#but all i know is that i’m here for the ride

[gojosconsort]

You're so good at the older bf! headcanons... how bout Mr. Should Kong? Much love x

OLDER BF!SHIU ♡ // HEADCANONS

⁀➷ CONTENT. you're shiu’s controversial younger girlfriend.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x older bf!shiu

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. added some x links. age gap, size difference, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), hair-pulling, spanking, public/semi-public sex, choking (with tie), degradation, praise kink, office sex, tummy bulge

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE. AHHHHHH i love older men

OLDER BF!SHIU who first met you when you were some witness in a case he was stuck handling. he drove you home after, saying, “you’re safe now, dove, don’t sweat it.” slipped his card into your hand with a lazy, “call if you need me,” and peeled off—didn’t think much of it ‘til you called a week later.

OLDER BF!SHIU who showed up immediately when you called because he found you interesting (and pretty). then talking turned into kissing and next thing you know, he’s got you pinned on your couch, fucking you so deep your legs are jelly. left you sprawled out, panting, dripping with his cum while he lit a smoke.

OLDER BF!SHIU who loves eating you out very sloppy, sprawled on the bed, cig still smoldering in the ashtray, your thighs slung over his shoulders. he’s slurping you up, tongue digging in sloppy and wet, growling, “fuckin’ soak my face, princess,” ‘til you’re yanking his hair and dripping all over his chin.

OLDER BF!SHIU who won’t stop after you cum once. keeps his mouth or fingers on you, muttering, “one more, dove, i know your slutty little cunt’s got it,” ‘til you’re shaking and sobbing and he smirks, “there’s my fuckin’ girl,” loving how fucked-up you look.

OLDER BF!SHIU who towers over you with his broad shoulders, thick arms, and a cock so big it’s a struggle every time. loves pinning you down just to feel how tiny you are under him, smirking, “look at you—barely fit me in that little cunt.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s obsessed with the tummy bulge—every time he fucks you deep, he presses his hand right there, feeling himself move inside you. “fuck, look at that—my dick’s stretching you out,” he grunts, pounding harder just to see it push up, loving how you whimper about it being too much.

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks about the age gap. he just smiles at nosy comments and slings an arm around you, “jealous i got her and you don’t?” later, he’s got you slammed against the wall, pounding you ‘til you’re screaming loud enough the whole damn block knows why you’re with him.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s always got a cig hanging from his lips, catching you staring and smirking, “want a hit, huh?” grabs your chin, blows smoke into your mouth, then crashes his lips into yours, tongue shoving in hard, “you’re too fuckin’ young for this shit.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who loves showing you off, you in some skimpy little skirt, him in his suit. pulls you onto his lap at a dive bar, hand creeping up your thigh, muttering, “let ‘em stare, princess—they’re just mad they ain’t fuckin’ you.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t care about kids but fuckin’ loves pumping you full. pins you down, growling, “gonna stuff you full, dove,” and unloads deep, and gets off on watching it spill out slow, “look at that—fuckin’ perfect, dripping with me.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s working late at the office when you get too loud—moaning like a slut while he’s got you bent over his desk. he rips his tie off, stuffs it in your mouth, and mutters, “shut the fuck up, dove—gonna get us caught,” then keeps fucking you raw, the muffled screams making him harder.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s a lazy fuck but loves watching you work—lounges back on the couch or bed, cig between his lips, hands behind his head, “c’mon, dove, bounce on this dick.” loves how your tits jiggle while you ride him, smirking, “fuckin’ tire yourself out—i’m just here for the view.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t bother with condoms half the time—slides in raw and rough, smirking, “shit feels better like this, yeah?” loves dumping his load deep, holding you still while he fills you, “gonna be leaking me all day, huh? nasty little thing.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s got that old-man stamina—fucks you hard and fast, flips you over, and keeps drilling ‘til you’re whining, “too much, shiu—fuck!” he just laughs, “tough shit, dove—you can handle it,” and pumps you full again, grinning as you collapse under him, a sweaty, cum-stuffed wreck.

OLDER BF!SHIU who grabs a fistful of your hair when he’s giving you backshots—yanks your head back while he’s slamming into you from behind, his other hand smacking your ass red. “take it, princess—fuckin’ love this tight little hole,” he growls, railing you ‘til the bed groans and your knees give out.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s hunched over his desk, scribbling notes for his work, when you straddle his thigh, needy and whining. doesn’t even glance up, just smirks, “go on, dove, rub that needy pussy on me—i’m busy.” lets you soak his slacks ‘til he’s done, then grabs your hips, bends you over the desk, and yanks your panties down, “couldn’t wait, huh? needy little thing.”

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

[secretlyazombi3]

let's get in the back of your cop car, officer .ᐟ₊˚⊹♡

 leon kennedy x afab! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count:  2.2k ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ NSFW, 2nd person, some fluff obvi ^_^, established relationship, re2r leon, subby leon kinda, unprotected (pls don't do that), riding, oral (m receiving)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: You stop by to visit your boyfriend in his cop car during one of his nightshift patrols :3

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n: uhhh i normally dont write stuff like this bc its not my thing, but oh my god my period has me FERAL man its not funny 😭😭 not proof read im too lazy ! also how do ppl write this without giggling lmao

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” Leon said as he rolled the window down as you patiently stood outside his police car. 

“You’re so jumpy.” you replied as Leon glanced around the parking lot anxiously. You knew Leon’s habits, you knew he always stopped at this gas station near your apartment before a night shift. “It’s midnight, forgive me for not expecting someone to knock on my car window.” Leon mumbled as he looked back at you. 

You wrapped your hand around the door handle and pulled it open, not caring to ask for an invitation into Leon’s car. He was your boyfriend after all, so why bother asking. “Hey, you can’t just-” Leon stuttered as you entered his car and sat down in the passenger’s seat suddenly. 

Leon glanced around the parking lot again. “You-you can’t just jump in my car like that, I’m at work, I’m on duty… It’s unprofessional.” Leon stuttered out. 

You looked out the car window and analyzed the gas station parking lot - it was empty, obviously, there was clearly not much demand to get gas at such late hours. 

“Nobody saw me get in, you’re fine.” You told Leon as you turned your head back to gaze at him. 

“I’m still on duty! I can’t let just anyone come in my car, I.. I need to focus on patrolling.” Leon protested. “Well, I’m not ‘just anyone’, am I?” you replied, batting your eyes at Leon and giving him big puppy eyes you knew he couldn’t resist.

Leon didn’t reply, simply staring at you, hesitating before beginning to drive the car out of the parking lot.

“You’re so stubborn,” Leon mumbled as he drove away from the gas station. “You’re going to get me in trouble.” 

“Only if we get caught. We just won’t get caught.” you replied as you looked out the window. 

Leon mumbled something incoherently, he furrowed his eyebrows as he continued to drive down a nearby highway, still pretending to be upset at you for forcefully joining him for a ride. 

“I just wanted to bring you some company, must be lonely driving all alone at night for hours.” you said quietly before you placed your hand on Leon’s thigh. Leon stopped mumbling and his expression reluctantly softened. He loved physical affection. 

Truthfully, he did get lonely on his shifts. It was painfully boring to just drive around the highway, park on the side of the road and keep an eye out for anything suspicious or any speeding. He didn’t mind you being here with him, he truly needed the company or else he’d go insane one of these nights. 

Leon pulled over onto the side of the road and parked where he normally parked when he patrolled this highway specifically. It was dark out and a pretty lifeless side of town, there were barely any cars driving down the road. The streetlight Leon parked under was old and the light flickered every so often.

“You just do this all night? Sit in your car all alone?” You asked Leon, sounding a bit shocked. 

Leon shyly nodded and shrugged. “I mean, yeah…”.

“I should really come visit you more often, then. You must be so bored.” you replied. 

“I-I can’t just hang out with you on my job.” “It’s not like you’re doing anything urgent. You just sit here all night. Nobody will know.” Your hand went up Leon’s thigh. “I can make your night more interesting, you know…” “Stop..!” Leon said, a twinge of whininess in his voice, clearly embarrassed. “That’s so unprofessional.” Leon added, his face turning a bit redder than normal as he desperately prayed you didn’t notice the twitching in his pants. 

“You’re such a rule follower.” You replied as you finally pulled your hand off of Leon’s thigh. 

Your gaze shifted from Leon to out the windshield. “The sky’s so pretty tonight.” you said as you looked up at the moon. It was a full moon tonight, the moon was resting in the sky just above where Leon had parked his police car. 

“At least you get to look at the sky every night.” you spoke softly, glancing back over at Leon. Leon was gazing up at the stars for a few moments before turning his attention to you. 

“It’s not as pretty as you.” he said quietly. You smiled - it was cheesy, but it was cute. Leon’s pink blushing face made it better. 

“Shut up,” you replied as you noticed Leon leaning in a bit closer to you with a soft expression.

You sat there for a moment, analyzing Leon’s pretty face, memorizing each mole on him before you allowed yourself to be pulled in by him for a kiss. 

You placed your hand on the side of Leon’s face as you kissed and used your other hand to take off your seatbelt so you could lean further into the kiss without being restrained. 

Leon pulled away for a second for air and quietly mumbled your name in a breathy voice. His hand rested on your cheek, he gently rubbed his thumb against your skin. “You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty…” he whispered gently to you.

You glanced down and finally noticed the bulge in Leon’s pants. “Oh, Leon..” you whispered. 

Leon looked away, seemingly embarrassed that he’d gotten hard over nothing, over a simple kiss. “It’s nothing.” he mumbled. 

“No, baby, let me help you.” You insisted as your hand moved to his zipper, slowly unzipping his pants. 

Leon was breathing a little harder as he watched you. “I-I shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathed as he felt you slowly slide down the fabric of his boxers, letting his hard cock free. 

“It’s okay, baby, nobody’s on the road anyways.” you assured him as you moved your hand to gently rub him raw, which immediately made him tense up. You spat on his dick to lubricate it before continuing to stroke him, feeling him twitch against your palm. 

“I guess so,” he replied. 

“Is it okay if I…?” you asked as you eyed his cock. Leon bit his lip a little, getting more aroused seeing your pretty face so close to his cock. He nodded. “Mhm, yeah, go ahead.” he replied. 

You parted your lips and wrapped them around the tip of his cock, which was glistening under the moonlight after he had begun to leak some precum. His face was flushed, he was embarrassed that he was so easy. One kiss was enough to give him a boner.

“Mph..” you moaned quietly, the sound slightly muffled by Leon’s dick being stuffed in your mouth, as you slowly began to lower your head.

 “Ah, fuck..” Leon moaned as he leaned his head back, feeling you begin to take his cock deeper, feeling the tip prod at the back of your throat. 

“So good, so good for me…” Leon whispered breathily as he gently brushed his fingers through your hair. He tried to keep himself calm and collected, he tried his hardest to keep himself under control but he just couldn’t. 

He gently gripped on your hair and tugged it, pulling you down, forcing your head up and down. Leon grunted as he felt you swirling your tongue around his length as he continued to force you up and down, nearly choking on his dick. 

Leon rolled his head back, turning into a whining and whimpering mess as you continued suckling on his dick. He couldn’t help but begin gently thrusting against your face, face fucking you.

 He eventually managed to control himself and he stopped the movement of his hips. You rested for a moment, dick fully down your throat, your nose resting on his happy trail. Leon finally calmed himself down, still whimpering as he felt you remove your mouth from his cock. 

“Baby, fuck..” Leon whimpered as he felt his cock, now wet from your saliva, touch the cold air of the cop car. You pulled Leon in for another kiss and began to rub him again. You flicked your thumb over his tip, which was dripping precum at this point. Leon could taste his skin on your tongue as you two kissed. 

“Let me ride you.” you whispered between kisses as Leon whimpered from the pleasure of your hand around his length. 

Leon nodded. “Do whatever you want to me…” he whispered. He leaned back in his seat, reclining it to give you some more room as you straddled him after slipping off your pants and your soaked panties. 

“Leon..” You whispered as you rubbed his tip against your entrance. You slowly grind your hips down, you enjoyed watching Leon’s reaction as he slowly entered you. His mouth never closed, his lips stayed parted as he slowly pushed his cock inside you. “Ah- ah..! Fuck, you’re….you’re so fucking tight…” Leon moaned as he watched you begin to slowly move up and down, riding him slowly as he held your hips. Leon’s thighs were trembling at this point, he was overwhelmed with pleasure.

Leon slid his hands up your body, pushing your shirt and bra up so he could see your tits. Leon was completely infatuated with your body, you could tell by the look in his eyes. 

He was still whimpering and moaning the entire time you rode him. Leon couldn’t help it, he was really noisy in bed, and he couldn’t help but moan like a whore every time his sensitive dick got the slightest friction. 

Leon groped your chest after watching it bounce with each movement for a while, playing with your chest as you continued moving up and down on his cock. 

“Fuck, Leon…” you breathed as you felt him rub his thumb against your nipple. You felt the tip of Leon’s dick slam against the spongy spot inside you that filled your body with pleasure. Leon clearly knew he’d found your spot by the way you gasped. 

“That feel good there…?” Leon asked, looking up at you through his eyelashes, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to keep them open. 

You desperately nodded as you felt Leon begin to thrust his hips upward, repeatedly slamming the head of his cock deep inside you, stimulating that spot. “Good boy…” you breathed before pulling Leon into another kiss. Being called that caused Leon to involuntarily thrust his hips harder into you. He loved being called that. 

Your hands traveled up Leon’s shirt, you felt on Leon’s abs as Leon gasped for air between each and every kiss. He was clearly getting closer and closer. Leon glanced up at you once you pulled away from another kiss, watching you bounce on his cock as he rolled his head back again, this time letting his eyes shut as he continued whimpering. 

“Baby,” Leon breathed as he continued thrusting his hips upward involuntarily. Leon gripped your hips tightly, digging his nails into your skin as he whimpered. 

“..’m gonna come, gonna come…” Leon whined between breaths. “Shh, I got you,” You cooed in response, placing your hand on his cheek as he rested back. Leon moved his hand down to rub his thumb against your clit in a circular motion without you even needing to tell him. 

“Fuck, good boy, such a good boy, Leon…” you breathed. Leon whimpered as he desperately thrusted his hips into you, pounding your pussy as you pulled him in for another kiss. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come…” Leon whined between kisses. 

Leon wrapped his arm around you tightly as he came deep inside you, his cock twitching inside you as your walls suffocated him. You slid your tongue past Leon’s lips as you felt yourself reach your orgasm as Leon desperately rubbed your clit. You moaned desperately into the kiss as you came, hugging Leon tightly back.

You pulled away for air after the kiss. Leon was still a whimpering mess after coming. Leon’s eyes were still shut as he rested back, desperately gasping for air as if he’d been underwater for hours. 

You slowly pulled yourself off of his lap, your pussy leaking his cum as you scrambled to put your panties back on, not wanting to leak cum all over the inside of his cop car. 

Leon was a panting mess, his dick raw and sensitive after cumming. He was leaning back with his eyes clenched shut, his tongue involuntarily hanging out like a dog. 

“Good puppy.” you whispered to Leon as you kissed his cheek. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Leon was resting against the window, sleeping peacefully until you poked his cheeks. “Leon.” you said softly, your tone slightly sing-songy as if you were trying to wake a toddler. The sun was beginning to rise in the distance. 

“Huh…?” Leon mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering open and shut. “Come on officer, your shift ends soon.” you told Leon. Leon rubbed his eyes before glancing around. 

“Shit, you’re right.” he replied as he pulled his seatbelt back on. He always got sleepy after cumming, he had been knocked out for hours now. His face was bright red, not only embarrassed that he’d fallen asleep but he was also thinking about what you two had done only a few hours earlier. “Can’t believe you fell asleep on the job Leon, that’s so unprofessional.” you teased him as he slowly drove back onto the highway. 

“Shut up…” Leon mumbled shyly, avoiding your gaze. 

[steven-g-rogers]

Steve nodded and squeezed her hand reassuringly.  “I used to be really good at that. I could make a choice in the heat of the moment, know it wasn’t a great one, and even if it led to something bad happening, I’d be able to remind myself if I’d have made no choice at all, it would have been worse.  I’d always try to learn from those decisions, so next time it wouldn’t happen, but I never let it freeze me in place.  It got harder to do.  Harder to carry the dead with me without feeling guilty about being alive.  Especially when it started to feel like I was being dragged into the same fight over and over, like I was learning lessons but no one else was.  But - I do believe that I did what I could.  There are things that went very wrong by some choices I made, and could have lined up so that future problems were less of an issue.  I know that.  But I also know that if I’d let those mistakes cripple me, the later thing would have been horrific.  So - yeah - I do try not to overthink.  And I love and appreciate having you here to support me and help guide me again.  Even if the decisions have much less riding on them now.”

He kissed her cheek.  “Thank you, Peg.  I’m happy that you think so.”

When they were back outside, Steve unlocked the bikes and they climbed on.  “I’m not sure.  What about we try and find a postcard and then, maybe a brauhaus?  Having some German Beer and food for lunch could be nice.  Germany is known for their beer.”  

@agentpeggycarterrogers

Peggy nodded. “But try not to overthink about things you can’t change.” She smiled. “It does help to have you with me, too. I’m glad I can be there for you through it all now. We were there for each other during the war, to a certain extent, weren’t we?” 

She didn’t want to be reminded of how they were apart for years and how she couldn’t be there for him in the future; now wasn’t the time to bring up the pain of the past. They were together again, and that time apart had made them appreciate this even more. They knew the alternative, they knew what it was like to be apart, and now they had each other. 

“I just need to say how proud I am of you - of all you’ve done, of how you’ve grown, of how you’ve settled back into this life with me. I don’t want to bring up something painful - but Dr. Erskine would be proud of you too, for all you’ve accomplished.” 

She leaned into his kiss, but it ended all too soon. She smiled and they explored a bit more of the beautiful church, and then went back out to the sunshine. “Where to next?” 

@steven-g-rogers

[misshuntereevee]

Synopsis: You look like the MC, and you actually remember bits and pieces of the myth (not all.) But MC finally shows up, with no memory, and Sylus can’t help but be drawn in. What will happen?

Note: I haven’t written anything in like a month so go easy on me 😅 I also am not beta-read, I just need Sylus simping and begging for forgiveness…

—

Two years ago. The little reminder flits across the screen.

But nonetheless, you sit in your shared apartment -- alone with a glass of wine. No missed calls, no texts.

You weren’t sure when it started. Probably the first time he saw her. She looked just like you. You — just like her. You didn’t think anything would shake how Sylus saw you. His princess. But she obviously did. He found himself torn -- were you his sorceress? Or was this woman?

When you do finally get a message from Sylus, it’s enough to make your heart drop. “I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”

No mention of the anniversary. Being sneaky, you decide to tap and see where he is. Linkon? Another few tabs and you see the feed of a sidewalk -- with him and Miss Hunter chatting. Your eyes close, your fingers rubbing the bridge of your nose. You feel your hands tighten around the stem of your wine glass until it shatters. You didn’t even feel the glass dig into your skin -- just the blood trickling down your wrist.

She’s wearing your smile. The smile that you give him. And he’s looking at her like she’s you. And as your doppelganger, she’s probably close.

As you treat your wound, you can’t help it. Tears overflow as blood washes out into the porcelain sink.

You’d promised yourself after how your father treated your mother that you’d never let yourself feel this way. Unloved. Don’t get you wrong -- if it had been this once, you probably wouldn’t have cared. But the fact of the matter -- this is the third time. You’d been keeping count.

So you call.

Once. No answer.

Twice. No answer.

By the third unanswered call, your hands tremble. The broken wine glass sits untouched beside you, the clock ticking in mockery. You stare at the phone screen, willing his name to appear, but nothing. Just silence. The kind that suffocates. The kind that makes decisions for you.

“If I’m not your little bird, then fine,” you say, grinding your teeth. You make one more call, this time to your best friend. She answers on the second ring and it’s not long before you’ve made your decision -- you’re leaving.

* * *

He’d call you as soon as he dropped her off.

He promised himself that. And while Sylus had a great memory, he suddenly had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. But he ignores the phone in his pocket as he listens to the woman next to him. Miss Hunter.

He can’t lie and say he doesn’t feel the attraction. But what happened? Why was she here if you were too? And which one was his princess? Which one was the one he was bonded to? He’d never had this linkage bond with you -- no, that only happened with this hunter. That…looked exactly like you.

The phone is ringing again, and Miss Hunter tilts her head. “Aren’t you going to answer that? Might be one of your henchmen.” She teases.

So he glances -- seeing your name, his fingers hover over the screen before pushing decline. “It’s not important right now.” And he shoots the simple text: Don’t wait up.

Walking her upstairs, Miss Hunter turns to face him. “Well, thanks for the ride… maybe you aren’t the monster everyone says you are.”

His lips stretch up in a smile. The words make him feel warm -- the way that for the longest time only you could do. “Careful, kitten. I might think you're softening up on me.”

“Never,” is all Miss Hunter says, before disappearing into her apartment.

He’s almost on his motorcycle when he gets another call. He answers it without looking, convinced it’s you again. “Hello, my little bird,” his voice says softly. The familiarity is settling in now that he knows he can talk to you -- something absent with Miss Hunter. In a way, he can recognize that Miss Hunter will never be able to give him that. But he has to know why she’s here. Why does she exist when you’re right there?

But it’s not your voice that replies. “Oh -- no, it’s Luke, boss. I thought you and the Missus were out on your anniversary date. I was calling --”

Sylus’ grip on his handlebars tightens. “What?” he nearly growls. The blood in his veins turns ice-cold. His knuckles go white, the rich and expensive leather groaning under the pressure. His breath catches in his throat, heart slamming against his ribs. He forgot. Fuck, he forgot. The realization crashes into him like a freight train, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Oh, I just saw the date on your calendar --”

“I’ll call you back,” he snarls.

Sylus knows as soon as he gets past the second ring that you aren’t going to pick up the phone. You never let it ring longer than that. But just in case, he waits until you let it go to voicemail. And then he calls again. And again. If he was a normal man, he’d be a little embarrassed to call so much -- but he wasn’t normal and he didn’t care.

By the tenth call, he’s gripping the device tightly. “'Pick up. Please, my little bird. Pick up.” The call goes to voicemail. Again. His chest tightens. He feels it now—the absence of you. And for the first time, he's truly afraid.

And for a moment, he wondered if he’d panic this much if it was Miss Hunter who was upset. Would he be upset if she was mad at him? Finally, he leaves a message: “Little bird, call me please. You know we need to talk about this.”

You’ll call him back with that. He was almost certain. But as he got closer and closer to your shared apartment, it became clear that you weren’t going to call. And all it did was give him time to think. And he came to the conclusion that you had every right to be pissed.

But he had no idea how pissed you were until he unlocked your shared front door -- and it’s all gone.

Not the furniture, no. But your favorite cardigan by the door? Gone. Your mail slot? Your name was ripped off, and only Sylus’ remained. The further he got into the apartment, the more he noticed was gone. Your brush, your blankets. Each missing item was a knife in his heart.

“Little bird?” He called out, holding onto a shred of hope before noticing a note on the bed. His red eyes narrow, stepping softly toward it.

And the words are enough to make him ball the note into a crumbled mess, and throw it against the wall with a snarling yell:

Sylus,

I don’t know how to write this. But as the weeks have passed since you met my doppelganger, I’ve realized there’s really nothing I can do to compete with myself. I thought our history was enough -- but I guess I can’t win against fate. My only wish is you would have let me know before I dug my claws in.

Like you’d know, my dragon, it hurts to pull them back out. And it hurts even more to see the open wound I left -- I am not sure if it will stop bleeding out.

Take care of yourself,

Your Little Bird

Y/N

The words you wrote echo in your voice in his head. He could see the teardrop stains marking the paper. Little scratch marks -- like you hesitated. And he’s hit with the feeling -- maybe if he’d just answered sooner, he could have stopped this.

And -- how stupid could he have been to pay so little attention that he missed your anniversary? And how stupid was he for still feeling conflicted about Miss Hunter?

But the strongest feeling was this: he needed to see you again. The possibility of not seeing you again… that was enough to make him never visit Linkon again.

* * *

It’s been two weeks since you left. You weren’t from the N109 Zone and you weren’t from Linkon -- so he’d crossed that off his list. But you weren’t in your hometown either. Sylus rode his motorcycle through your old stomping grounds -- and it brought him some comfort to be here. In your home -- since you’d fled the one you’d shared together.

His phone rings -- Miss Hunter.

And surprisingly -- he doesn’t answer.

Because a better notification comes up from Luke and Kieran.

“Hey, Boss! We’ve got sightings of Madam over in Brighton,” they say, happy to give him some sort of good news. Because the last few weeks -- Sylus has been downright vicious in his hunt to find you. To tell you sorry.

“Brighton? Interesting. Send me the coordinates,” he says. The location is a cafe. It’s filled with books, magazines-- all your favorites. That part made sense. There’s slight relief in his thoughts. Knowing where you were was better than not knowing. If you were in Brighton, then you were probably safe. Alive. And not under Ever’s thumb somewhere.

You’re safe. That’s what matters. That’s what he keeps telling himself as he watches you laugh at a cashier’s statement —like nothing is wrong, like the past two years meant nothing. You’re alive. You’re fine.

But the longer he looks -- it’s enough to make him murderous.

It’s the cashier you’re speaking with. You’re laughing…you’re happy. ayou hadn’t smiled like that at him since Miss Hunter arrived… Realistically, anyone could say it was innocent, but now --

He should be the one making you laugh. He should be the one paying too. Jealousy doesn’t come easy to Sylus -- but right now -- he’s understanding how you felt the last few weeks with Miss Hunter. But unlike you -- he thinks to himself as he puts the kickstand on his bike down -- he’s not afraid to step in.

If you thought two years would disappear like that -- you’re wrong. And he’ll prove it. (He has to.)

Please like/reblog for part 2! I am not sure how much I love this or not yet, so let me know if you do. Comments are appreciated but not required. 🫶🏻

[neonghostlights]

Leaky Pipes

A/N: a repost from my old blog. This one is one of my favorites.

Plumber!Eddie Munson X f!Reader

Warnings: unprotected piv, fluff, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

The knock on the front door had you jumping up from your seat. You smoothed the front of your sundress down, white with little yellow flowers. Your husband's favorite.

You took one deep breath, peeking into the mirror that hung by the doorway to make sure you were still put together. You quickly wiped at the lipstick smeared on the side of your mouth from when your husband had kissed you before he left the house earlier.

You opened the door to find the local plumber with his red metal toolbox clutched tightly between his hands. He had his dark curls pulled back into a low bun. His collared work shirt has the name Eddie on an ironed patch on his chest.

You didn’t know plumbers could be that cute.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m here to fix your pipes,” he said with a small smirk as you bit your lips and looked him up and down all the way from his steel toe boots to his big brown eyes.

“S-sure. Come in,” you said as he stepped aside for him to enter, fiddling with the ring on your left hand.

He let out a low whistle when he saw the inside of your home.

“Your husband must really love you to get you a house like this,” he commented.

“I guess,” you said shyly, twiddling with your hands in front of you.

Eddie hummed in response as he watched you.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you said, gesturing for him to follow you.

Eddie whistled as he climbed under your kitchen sink where the leak was. He laid on his back, his head completely disappeared inside the cabinet.

You eyed the way he laid with his feet pressed against the floor. From this angle you could see the bulge straining in his pants from where he was worked up already.

He really did look good.

And it gave you an idea.

You slowly back away, the flesh of your ass meeting the kitchen table. You slowly hiked yourself up to sit on it. Praying that it wouldn’t collapse underneath you.

When the table proved to be steady you slowly parted your legs slightly. The air met your pantiless cunt, making you shiver slightly in anticipation.

Your sundress hiked up your thighs, giving Eddie the perfect view if he would just look up.

“You been a plumber for long?” You ask sweetly.

“Not long. Actually just started,” you hear him answer without looking at you.

“What was that?” You asked.

He lifted his head to answer you again, just to be met with the sight of you exposed for him.

His eyes went wide as his hands froze on whatever he was working on.

The wrench clatters to the ground as he pulls himself out from under the sink. Instead of standing, he pushes himself to his knees.

You thought you were in charge of this, that you would call the shots. But all of that went out the window as you watched Eddie crawl towards you on all fours. His eyes never leave the place between your legs.

He looked up with you with blown pupils. His eyes were almost completely black with lust.

He took a finger, dragging it through your folds slowly. When he collected enough, he held it up in front of the both of you, your slick covering his long fingers, glistening under the lights.

He tsked. “Looks like you sprung another leak, baby? You want me to fix that?”

You nodded quickly, wanting him to hurry up and touch you again.

Instead of touching you like you wanted, he stuck his fingers in his mouth, licking off your wetness with a moan.

Your pussy clenched at the sight, his moan sending shockwaves straight through you without him even touching you.

He lowered his head slowly, teasing you. Some of his loose curls tickled the inside of your bare thighs.

“Stop teasing me,” you begged before he licked a big stripe up your pussy. Your hips jolted forward, pushing towards his face more.

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling your ass forward till you were nearly off the table. You gripped onto the sids tightly, holding on for the ride. Eddie attacked your pussy with his mouth, moaning from your taste.

“Taste so good, baby,” he muttered into your skin. “This what you do? Hm? Wait for your husband to leave for work so you can fuck the plumber?”

You couldn’t help the sly smile that grew across your face. You knew the answer he wanted to hear. But it would be so fun to give him the opposite.

“All the time,” you said with a grin, trying to hide the laugh in your voice.

Eddie looked up at you, pausing his descent back to where you needed him. He looked up at you, his eyes dark. His mouth set in a grim line.

It happened so fast you didn’t have the chance to see it coming. A quick slap followed by the burning pain right on your clit. You gasped, moving your hips closer to him again instead of pulling away. You were nearly falling off the table now. More than you had been before.

Eddie stood quickly, wasting no time wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you up. He marched quickly, carrying you to your bedroom and throwing you down on top of the covers.

He stood over you, making sure you watched him as he pulled his pants down under his ass, revealing just enough of him to do what he wanted to do.

His hands latched onto your ankles, dragging you to the end of the bed and spreading you wide. He glanced at your face, a silent check in. You nodded your head slightly. He pushed the bottom of your dress up to your waist while he pulled down the top for your tits to spill out. Eddie hummed in approval as he ran a thumb over your peaked nipples.

He positioned your ass right on the edge of the mattress, lifting your ankles and placing them on his shoulders. He rubbed your leg softly in circles, pressing a quick kiss to your right ankle. It was tender, until he was pushing into you. You moaned, arching your back.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned before pulling out and pushing back in until his balls were flush against your skin.

The sound of wet slapping filled the room as Eddie pounded into you, abandoning the grip on one of your legs to work your clit.

You felt like you were leaving your body and taking Eddie with you.

The burning desire in your gut grew with the intensity of it all. It felt like your body was on fire as he fucked in to harder. Your body shifting up the bed with each of his thrusts.

“Harder. Please,” you moaned, doing your best to rock your hips back to him.

“You feel so good. You always feel so good. You’re fucking mine,” Eddie babbled as he picked up his pace. You gripped the wrist of the hand that was working your clit.

His hair fell completely out of the bun, framing his face wildly.

You always came so quick when you and him did this.

“Eddie,” you whimpered. “I’m gonna…”

“Fuck. Me too, baby. Fucking come for me,” he said through is teeth, his body straining as he tried not to blow before you.

The thread inside of you snapped. Your back pushed off the bed without warning as you said his name over and over until you were hoarse. You pulsed around him, squeezing him tightly as he stilled, spilling inside of you.

You both stayed still for a second, catching your breath and thinking about what just happened. Eddie squeezed your thighs as he lowered your legs off of his shoulders.

“You okay, baby?” He asked you, still breathing heavily from his exertion.

“I’m great,” you panted with a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

Eddie pulled out of you slowly. Both of your releases dripped out of you and onto the bed.

Eddie climbed up the bed, reaching into his nightstand and digging around. He slipped his ring back on his finger, flexing his hand once it was on.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you crawled up beside him and laid your head on his chest.

“Felt weird not having it on,” he admitted. “Next time we do this I’m just gonna leave it on.”

You laughed, trailing a finger along the skin of his arm. He pulled you in tightly beside him.

“Maybe next time I can be the plumber,” you said with a wink, picturing the same scenario with the roles reversed.

Eddie laughed, probably already imagining your next role playing adventure. Your husband's imagination was an endless void. Who knew what he would come up with next.

“Hey,” you said, sitting up in your shared bed. “How about you use those tools in there to actually fix the leak under the sink?”

Eddie rolled his eyes lightheartedly and slapped the flesh of your ass with his free hand. “Yes, dear.”

[rafedarling]

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐲

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: a headache sends you reaching for drew, but his phone goes unanswered as you struggle to get to the hospital alone. at the pharmacy, you find him there with odessa.

warning(s): english is not my native language. angst, mild language, jealousy and mistrust, mention of health a scare.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @issabellec7 @alexxavicry

notes: i actually write the reader’s emotions and behavior based on how i personally react when i’m mad. i tend to have this i don’t give a fuck attitude. hope all you drew!angsty hoes out there love this one-shot! goodnight :).

“Hey, Drew, it’s me again,” you say into the phone, voice strained as you clutch it to your ear.

Your head’s pounding, a vicious ache that’s got your vision blurring at the edges, and you’re pacing the living room, waiting for him to answer.

It rings, then cuts to voicemail. Again.

“My head’s killing me, and I need to get to the hospital. Please call me back.”

You hang up, staring at the blank screen, willing it to light up. Nothing.

The pain surges, and you wince, pressing a hand to your temple. You’d wanted Drew to drive you, to be there, but he’s MIA. With a shaky breath, you open the Uber app, fumbling to book a ride. The hospital’s close, but every minute feels like torture when your skull’s splitting open.

The driver doesn’t talk, and you’re grateful, slumping against the cool window as the streets slip by. You try Drew once more, just in case.

Voicemail.

“Whatever,” you mutter, shoving the phone into your bag.

You’re on your own.

At the hospital, the ER’s a chaos of noise and weary faces, but they see you fast. The doctor’s steady, jotting notes as you describe the headache, sudden, brutal, unlike anything before. Tests and a scan later, he calls it a stress migraine, writes a prescription for pain meds, and tells you to rest. It’s something, but the relief’s overshadowed by the sting of Drew’s absence.

You’re still unsteady when the Uber drops you at the pharmacy. The bright lights inside jab at your eyes as you head to the counter, prescription in hand. That’s when you see him, Drew. He’s by the cold medicine aisle, smiling faintly at Odessa, who’s holding a basket and saying something that makes him nod. They look comfortable, like this is normal.

Your chest tightens, a mix of exhaustion and something sharper. You don’t move until he notices you, his eyes widening slightly.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Drew asks, stepping toward you, his tone surprised but soft.

Odessa lingers behind, watching with mild curiosity.

You don’t answer, just hand the prescription to the pharmacist, your fingers trembling a little. The silence hangs heavy, and Drew shifts closer, frowning.

“Are you okay?” he tries again, voice laced with concern now.

“Almost died,” you say, clipped and cold, avoiding his gaze as you wait for the pills. It’s an exaggeration, but it’s how it felt, and you’re not in the mood to sugarcoat it.

He goes quiet, then exhales. “What happened?”

You turn, meeting his eyes briefly.

“Bad headache. Called you a bunch. You didn’t pick up. Took an Uber to the hospital instead.”

Your words are flat, matter-of-fact, but they land hard.

His face shifts, guilt flickering there.

“I didn’t know, babe. My phone was in the car. I was…”

He glances at Odessa, who’s now pretending to study a box of tissues.

“Helping Dess with something.”

You nod, just once, and grab the bag from the pharmacist with a muttered thanks.

“I need to go,” you say, heading for the door.

Drew hesitates, then follows, leaving Odessa behind.

“Let me drive you home,” he says, catching up outside. His voice is gentle, almost pleading.

You’re too tired to fight, so you shrug, letting him lead you to his car.

The ride’s silent.

You stare out the window, the pharmacy bag crinkling in your lap, the headache dulled but still gnawing. Drew grips the wheel, glancing at you every few seconds, but you don’t give him anything.

No words,

No looks.

Just the hum of the engine and the weight of what’s unsaid.

When you get home, you kick off your shoes by the door and head straight for the kitchen. Drew trails behind, closing the front door softly. You grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with water from the sink, and pop the pill bottle open, all without a word. The pill slides down your throat, bitter and cold, and you set the glass down, staring at the counter.

“Y/N,”

Drew starts, his voice low as he leans against the doorway.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that.”

You don’t look at him, tracing a scratch on the counter with your finger.

“You weren’t there,” you say simply, and it’s not loud, but it cuts.

“I know,” he says, stepping closer.

“I should’ve had my phone. I didn’t think… I didn’t know you needed me.”

You turn then, eyes meeting his, and the hurt spills out before you can stop it.

“Why is it always her, Drew? Why’s Odessa always around, and I’m the one who can’t reach you?”

He blinks, caught off guard.

“She’s just a friend. She needed a ride to the clinic today, that’s all.”

You laugh, short and sharp.

“A friend. Right. She’s always needing something, and you’re always there. Meanwhile, I’m calling you, scared out of my mind, and your phone’s in the car because of her.”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking down.

“It’s not like that. You’re my priority, Y/N. I swear.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?” Your voice rises, trembling a little.

“I needed you today, Drew. Not her. Me. And you weren’t there.”

He steps closer, hands out like he wants to fix it.

“I messed up. I get it. I’ll keep my phone on me, I’ll be there next time. Just… tell me how to make this okay.”

You shake your head, turning back to the counter, gripping the edge.

“I don’t know if you can. It’s not just today. It’s every time she’s around, every time I feel like I’m second.”

“She’s not more important than you,” he says, voice firm but quiet.

“You’re my girl. I’ll talk to her, set some distance. I didn’t see how much this was getting to you.”

You don’t respond, just stand there, the pill kicking in, numbing the ache in your head but not your chest. Drew waits, shifting his weight, like he’s hoping you’ll turn around, say something to close the gap. But you don’t. You grab the glass, rinse it out, and set it in the sink, moving past him to the living room.

“Y/N,” he calls softly, following a step behind. “Please.”

You pause, half-turning, but your eyes don’t meet his.

“I’m tired, Drew. I just need to lie down.”

He nods, slow and uncertain, hands dropping to his sides.

“Okay. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You head for the couch, curling up with a throw pillow, and he lingers by the doorway, watching. You close your eyes, pretending to rest, he doesn’t push. He just stays there, a shadow in the corner, and you’re not sure if he’s close enough to reach or too far to try.

[sai-int]

hihi i recently discovered your blog and i am in love with you writing!! it’s so beautiful and i wish i could wallpaper it to the insides of the brain tehe i’m super interested to see how you’d write daddy kink with either price or simon (or whoever else you see most fit)! i wanted to keep this req general/basic so you could really do anything you want with it but here are some dynamics/au’s/etc. that i find enjoyable, in general, in case it sparks anything: soft dom, leashes/crawling, wild west au (bonus points for boot riding 🫣), boxer au, butcher!char x florist!reader, and ballerina!reader. (sorry felt like that list was all over the place LOL.)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! And ooooou anon. The way I evilly rubbed my hands together when I read this... Also, if you're looking for price and boot riding, look no further.

Here's some butcher!simon x fem!florist!reader, plus a sprinkle of softdom!simon w a daddy kink

The bell over the shop door chimes, delicate and bright—a sound far too gentle for the man who steps inside. Simon's too big for a place like this, too heavy with the scent of blood and metal. The air, thick with lavender and roses, should soften him—but instead, he makes the space feel smaller, like the walls close in just for him.

You barely look up from the bouquet in your hands, carefully tying off a bundle of peonies. "You're late," you murmur, but there's no real scolding behind it, just soft acknowledgment.

Simon grunts, gently shutting the door behind him. His boots hit the wooden floor with their usual weight as he steps closer, watching you with an unreadable, steady gaze. "Had a long day," he mutters. "Some tosser ordered a full side o' beef last minute. Took me the better part o' the afternoon t'quarter it."

You frown, already wiping your hands on your apron, instinctively stepping toward him. "Oh, Si," you hum, reaching to brush your fingers over his forearm. "That sounds awful. You must be exhausted."

His fingers twitch, his gaze dropping to where your soft hand press against his skin. You always touch him so freely, without hesitation—like he wasn't too big, too rough, too covered in things you had no business being near.

Simon exhales, his shoulders shifting. "I can handle it."

"I know you can," you say, voice soft, warm. "Doesn't mean you should have to."

That makes him pause. He tilts his head, watching you carefully, his hands already finding their place at your waist, large and warm. You fit against him so easily, so naturally, like you belong right there.

Your eyes flick downward, catching the faint streak of something crimson near his elbow.

"Simon." You frown, taking his wrist between your hands, your delicate fingers turning it slightly. "You've still got—"

"Blood," he supplies flatly.

You swallow, your fingers smoothing gently over the stain. "You should've washed up more before coming here."

His lips twitch. "Didn't want t'keep y'waiting, dollface."

Your heart squeezes at that, warmth blooming in your chest. He's never the type to say much, but little things like this—small, quiet acts of care—spoke louder than words ever could.

You wrap your arms around him, looping them around his middle, pressing yourself against his broad chest. He's solid as ever, warm as always. You hold him tightly, sighing against the fabric of his shirt.

"You take such good care of me, you know that?"

His hands flex on your waist, his fingers spreading wide, like he's trying to feel all of you at once.

"Yeah?' His voice drops to something lower, something rougher.

You nod, rubbing your cheek lightly against his chest. "Mhm. You always make sure I'm safe— always there for me." You smile softly against him, letting yourself sink into his warmth. "So good to me."

His arms tighten around you, pressing you firmly against him, one hand trailing up your back, fingers tangling briefly in the little bow of your apron. "Course I am," he mutters, his voice thick with something deeper, heavier. "Gotta look after what’s mine, yeah?"

That makes your stomach flutter, your breath hitch.

Your voice softens, warmer, something meant just for him. "That's why I love being yours," you breath, your breath warm against his skin. You let the words linger, let them settle between you, before you add, in a whisper full of quiet, saccharine affection—

"Daddy."

Simon tenses in your hold, a sharp inhale cutting through the air. His hands tightens at your waist, fingers digging in, just shy of rough.

Posessive

"Fuck, dove" he rasps, voice strained. Then, in a rough whisper, like he was barely holding himself together— "Right here? In the middle of y'shop?"

You giggle, shaking your head. "No, not here," you hum, still teasing, still warm against him. "But I get off in an hour."

His grip stayed firm, his nose brushing against your temple, his voice dropping even lower.

"I could get you off in less."

Your mouth falls slack in shock before you huff, swatting at his arm. "Si!"

He chuckles, smug as ever, his grip on you unrelenting. "What?" His lips ghost the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Just sayin'"

You swat at him again, though it was weaker this time, warmth blooming in your chest, your stomach twisting with anticipation.

Simon leans back slightly, reaching into his front pocket to pull out a folded bill. With a casual ease, he slips it between his fingers, glancing down your shirt, his height making it effortless, before tucking the bill into your bra.

"F'the flowers," he said, voice rich with amusement. "Bring home somethin' nice, yeah? Something' soft."

His gaze drops to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes, dark and unreadable. "Not everything I touch has to bleed." He gently presses his lips to yours, savoring the taste of you until he can get you to himself at home.

And with that, he heads home, leaving you warm, breathless, and counting down every second until you can lock up for the night and let him keep his promise.

[sweet4rafe]

HANDS-ON LESSON ˎˊ˗

summary: your dad lets rafe help out around the farm, and he takes it upon himself to teach you how to ride. not just the horses. you’re inexperienced, all shy smiles and hesitant touches, but rafe is more than happy to guide you through it.

your daddy had always been protective, especially when it came to the ranch hands. "stay away from them boys," he’d say. "they ain’t nothing but trouble." but rafe cameron? rafe was different. at least, that’s what he made you think.

you’d never been much of a rider. you helped around the farm in other ways, picking berries, baking pies, tending the garden, but your father had decided it was time for you to learn how to handle a horse. and rafe? well, he took it upon himself to be your teacher.

"put your foot in the stirrup, sweetheart," rafe murmured, standing close behind you. his hands found your waist, calloused fingers pressing into the soft fabric of your dress as he helped you hoist yourself up. your cheeks warmed at the touch, but you did as he said, gripping the saddle with shaky fingers.

he climbed up behind you, his chest pressing firm against your back. "good girl," he muttered, voice thick like honey. his breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"i don’t know if i can do this," you admitted, gripping the reins a little too tightly.

rafe chuckled, one hand sliding down to rest against your thigh, the other covering your hands. "that’s what i’m here for, darlin’," he drawled, squeezing gently. "just relax. let me take care of you."

the words sent a different kind of shiver through you, one that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the way rafe’s fingers traced lazy circles against your leg.

the horse started to move, slow and steady, but your mind was no longer on the ride. not when rafe’s touch lingered, teasing. not when his lips brushed against your ear, whispering things you’d never heard from any other man.

"see?" he murmured. "told you i’d take care of you."

and somehow, you knew he wasn’t just talking about the horse.

the warm scent of hay lingers in the air, mixing with something headier, something distinctly him. rafe sits back on the haystack, his legs spread wide, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes as you settle between them.

"c'mere, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something darker, something that makes your stomach flip. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "you sure you wanna learn?"

you nod, too eager, too trusting.

his lips quirk into a smirk. "then listen real close, yeah?"

his voice is steady, guiding. patient in a way that has your skin burning. his large hand wraps around yours, leading it where he wants, slow and deliberate. "spit on your hand, sweets," he drawls, his tone teasing. "makes it easier."

your breath catches, fingers trembling slightly as you follow his instruction. he hums in approval, his head tipping back against the wooden beams. "just like that," he praises, voice roughening as you get bolder, more confident. "twist your wrist, there you go, baby, just fine."

his chest rises and falls, the warm glow of the barn lanterns casting shadows over his sharp features. he watches you the whole time, eyes dark, half-lidded, lips parting slightly as you pick up his rhythm.

"start from the base," he instructs, his voice barely above a whisper now, hoarse with restraint. "then work your way up—ah, shit, just like that."

his hand threads into your hair, not pushing, just guiding. his breath is uneven, fingers tightening slightly as he tips his head back against the wood, giving in to the pleasure, to you.

outside, the crickets chirp, the night carrying on as if nothing’s changed.

but in here, in the quiet hum of the barn, everything has.

[amyzworldds]

Hiii can i request for the 14th member where they sneak out again and they were caught maybe dispatch that would be so fun lol HAHAHAHA

Part Two: Midnight Adventure - New York Escape

Masterlist

During Seventeen’s 2017 Diamond Edge tour in New York, wild child yn convinces Dino, Vernon, and Seungkwan for a midnight adventure. What starts as a playful sneak-out for snacks and park shenanigans turns into a disaster. Pairing: Seventeen x 14 member Genre: Fluff, Humor

The New York leg of Seventeen’s Diamond Edge tour had just wrapped up, and the energy from the concert still buzzed faintly in the air—or at least it did for the four members who weren’t snoring their way through the night. While the rest of the group crashed in their hotel rooms, exhausted from the performance, yn, Dino, Vernon, and Seungkwan were crammed into yn’s room, a privilege she milked as the only girl in the group. Her solo room was a chaotic shrine to her personality: snacks littered the bed, a half-empty soda can teetered on the nightstand, and the TV blared some cheesy action movie none of them were really watching.

“Guys, this movie’s so bad it’s good,” Yn cackled, tossing a popcorn kernel in the air and missing her mouth entirely. It bounced off Vernon’s head, who didn’t even flinch, too busy scrolling his phone.

Seungkwan, sprawled across the foot of the bed, snorted. “You’re just saying that because the hero’s shirt keeps ripping. You’re not slick, yn.”

Dino, curled up in an armchair with a blanket pulled up to his chin, yawned. “Can we watch something less loud? I’m still half-deaf from the crowd tonight.”

“Psh, you’re no fun,” Yn shot back, but her eyes sparkled with something else. She sat up suddenly, the popcorn bowl tipping precariously in her lap. A wild idea had just sparked in her brain, the kind that always spelled trouble. “Wait. Guys. I just remembered something.”

The three boys groaned in unison, already sensing the chaos brewing. “Oh no,” Vernon muttered, not looking up from his phone. “Here we go.”

Yn ignored them, hopping off the bed and pacing like a general about to unveil a battle plan. “When I was a kid—before all this idol stuff—I used to dream about traveling the world. Walking through cities at night, eating weird snacks, riding bikes in random parks. And here we are, in New York, and I’ve never done it! We’re always stuck in hotels or venues!”

Seungkwan squinted at her. “You’re not stuck. You’re on a world tour. That’s literally traveling.”

“Not the same!” Yn huffed, flailing her arms. “I mean real exploring! Sneaking out, feeling the vibe, living a little dangerously!”

Dino’s eyes widened, his blanket slipping. “Yn, no. Don’t even say it—”

Too late. She darted out of the room without another word, leaving the door swinging behind her. The boys stared at the empty space, then at each other.

“She’s just checking something, right?” Seungkwan said, voice tinged with hope. “She’ll be back in, like, two seconds.”

Two minutes later, yn burst back in, standing triumphantly in front of the TV with her hands on her hips, blocking a crucial explosion scene. “Coast is clear! No staff, no hyungs, no one’s awake. It’s go time!”

The boys erupted in protests.

“Yn, move! The helicopter’s about to crash!” Seungkwan wailed, clutching a pillow.

“Are you insane?!” Dino yelped, pulling his blanket up like a shield. “We’re in New York! We don’t even know where we are!”

Vernon just sighed, finally putting his phone down. “She’s lost it. Officially.”

Yn didn’t budge, her grin widening. “Listen up, losers. Here’s the plan: we sneak out, hit the streets, maybe find a park to wander through, grab some snacks at a convenience store—ooh, or rent bikes if we find a shop! It’ll be epic! No one knows us here; we’re just random teens!”

The three stared at her, jaws slack, as if she’d suggested skydiving without parachutes.

“Random teens?!” Seungkwan sputtered. “We’re on a world tour! If we get caught, the managers will skin us alive, and Coups hyung will bury what’s left!”

Vernon nodded grimly. “I was born here, sure, but I left when I was five. I don’t know New York. I could get us to, like, a hot dog stand, maybe, but that’s it.”

Dino whimpered, sinking deeper into his chair. “I’m not doing this again. Last time, we cleaned the dorm for two weeks. My hands still smell like bleach.”

Yn waved them off, undeterred. “You’re all so dramatic. It’s fine! No one’s gonna recognize us in pajamas and hoodies. We’ll be back before anyone notices. But if you’re too chicken…” She paused for effect, grabbing her camera from the dresser. “I’ll just go alone. See ya, suckers!”

She marched out, still in her bright pink bunny pajamas, camera slung around her neck like some rogue tourist. The door clicked shut, and the room fell into stunned silence.

Seungkwan blinked at the TV, where the movie’s hero was now wrestling a villain mid-air. “She… she didn’t actually leave, right?”

Vernon rubbed his temples. “She did. I can’t believe it. She’s really out there.”

Dino groaned, flopping back in his chair. “This is my life. Every time. Every single time.”

Vernon suddenly sat up straighter, his chill facade cracking. “Wait, hold up. She’s alone. In New York. At night. If something happens to her, and we’re just sitting here, the managers will think we let her go. Coups hyung will think we’re accomplices!” He turned to Dino, wide-eyed. “So this is how you feel when she drags you into stuff?”

Dino threw his hands up, blanket flying. “Yes! Now you get it! Welcome to my personal hell!”

Seungkwan leapt to his feet, pacing frantically. “We can’t let her wander out there alone! She’s probably gonna try to pet a raccoon or something stupid and get rabies! Then we’ll all be in quarantine, and the tour’s canceled, and I’ll never forgive her!”

The three exchanged a look—panic, resignation, and a tiny spark of curiosity mingling together. “Fine,” Vernon muttered, grabbing his hoodie. “But if we die, I’m haunting her first.”

Dino yanked on his sneakers, muttering, “I hate my life,” while Seungkwan stuffed his pockets with leftover popcorn, “for emergencies.”

They bolted out the door, whispering prayers under their breath—“Please don’t let Coups wake up, please don’t let Coups wake up”—and skidded into the hallway just as the elevator dinged. There stood yn, still inside, holding the doors open with a smug grin. Her bunny pajamas glowed under the fluorescent lights, and her camera dangled like a trophy.

“Took you long enough,” she chirped, stepping aside to let them pile in. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“You’re the worst,” Seungkwan hissed, jabbing the lobby button. “If we get caught, I’m telling everyone you blackmailed us.”

Vernon leaned against the wall, deadpan. “I’m only here so I don’t have to testify against you later.”

Dino just stared at her, betrayed. “I thought we were past this, yn. I thought we’d grown.”

“Nope!” she sang, snapping a photo of their grumpy faces as the elevator descended. “Adventure awaits, boys! Let’s make it a night we’ll never forget—or at least one we can laugh about when we’re old and retired.”

Yn led the charge, her wild energy uncontainable, while the boys trailed behind, muttering curses and plotting how to blame her if—when—this all went south. Little did they know, the streets of New York were about to get a taste of seventeen’s chaos, whether they were ready for it or not.

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

The streets of New York at 2 AM were quieter than the four had expected, a stark contrast to the chaos of their concert earlier that night. Yn led the pack, her bunny pajamas practically glowing under the streetlights, while Dino, Vernon, and Seungkwan trailed behind, clutching their convenience store haul like it was their lifeline.

Vernon, the designated english speaker, had bravely asked the cashier—a bored-looking guy with a nose ring—if there was a park nearby. “Yeah, like, two blocks that way,” the guy had mumbled, pointing vaguely. “Got a playground too, if you’re into that.” And so, off they went, yn skipping ahead while the boys shuffled behind, their nerves slowly easing.

“See? Told you this would be fine,” yn chirped, popping a gummy worm into her mouth as they reached the park. It was a small, empty patch of green with a creaky playground—swings, a slide, and a rusty jungle gym. “No one’s around. We’re basically invisible!”

“Famous last words,” Dino muttered, but even he couldn’t resist the lure of the swings. Soon, the four of them were acting like overgrown kids, chasing each other around the playground like they’d escaped a prison sentence instead of a hotel room.

“Bet I can swing higher than you!” Seungkwan challenged, pumping his legs furiously while Dino tried to outdo him, nearly launching himself into orbit.

Vernon, perched on top of the slide, snapped photos with yn’s camera. “These are going straight to the burn pile,” he deadpanned, zooming in on Seungkwan’s mid-air flail. “If Coups hyung sees this, we’re toast. Evidence of the crime.”

Yn, dangling upside down from the jungle gym, cackled. “You’re all so paranoid! Look at us—living the dream! No one’s gonna know!”

They regrouped on the grass, passing around snacks and bickering over dumb hypotheticals. “Okay, who’d win in a fight: a lion or Hoshi hyung?” Seungkwan asked, crunching a chip.

“Hoshi says he’s a tiger, so obviously him,” Dino said, dead serious. “He’d just… claw it or something.”

“Lion’s got raw power, though,” Vernon countered, sipping his electric-blue soda. “Hoshi hyung would just yell ‘Horanghae!’ and get eaten.”

Yn snorted so hard she choked on her candy. “You’re all wrong. I’d win. I’d just charm the lion with my cuteness and ride it into battle.”

The laughter echoed through the empty park, their voices bouncing off the trees as they scrolled through the ridiculous photos—Seungkwan mid-swing with his mouth open, Dino clinging to the slide like a koala, Vernon accidentally photobombed by a pigeon, and yn striking a dramatic pose like she was auditioning for a superhero movie. “See?” Yn said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Safe as houses. No one’s recognizing us out here.”

They decided to stroll back toward the hotel, walking side by side, still giggling at the pictures. The night felt perfect—until it wasn’t.

Click. A flash lit up the darkness, blinding them. Then another. And then—screams.

“SEVENTEEN! OH MY GOD, IT’S SEVENTEEN!”

The four froze, heads whipping around to see a group of about ten fans—teenagers, mostly—barreling toward them, phones out, voices shrieking. “DINO! YN! VERNON! SEUNGKWAN! I LOVE YOU!”

“RUN!” Vernon yelled, dropping his soda can as the group bolted like startled deer. The fans gave chase, their shouts growing louder, drawing more attention. “SEVENTEEN’S HERE! IT’S THEM!”

“This is YOUR fault, YN!” Dino wailed, sprinting beside her, his sneakers slapping the pavement. “You said no one would recognize us!”

“Why didn’t you STOP me?!” Yn shot back, clutching her camera as she dodged a street sign. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one!”

“ME?!” Dino screeched. “Since when?!”

Seungkwan, flailing behind them, was practically hyperventilating. “I can see Coups hyung’s face now! He’s gonna ground us ‘til we’re 30! I’m too young to die!”

Vernon, somehow keeping pace despite his chill vibe, muttered, “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it. Why do I keep following her?”

The fans multiplied like gremlins after water—ten turned to fifteen, then twenty, a swarm of screaming carats closing in. “THEY’RE IN PAJAMAS! IT’S SO CUTE!” one yelled, snapping photos. “SEUNGKWAN, MARRY ME!”

“NOT NOW!” Seungkwan howled, nearly tripping over a curb. “I’M RUNNING FOR MY LIFE!”

Yn, still leading the pack, darted into an alley, waving them after her. “This way! We’ll lose ‘em!” But the alley was a dead end—a brick wall loomed ahead, and the fans were hot on their heels.

“Great plan, genius!” Vernon snapped, skidding to a stop. “Now what? Climb the wall like Spider-Man?”

“I’m working on it!” yn hissed, scanning for an escape. She spotted a dumpster. “In there! Hide!”

“NO WAY!” Seungkwan shrieked, clutching his hair. “I’m not diving into trash! I’m an idol, not a raccoon!”

“We don’t have a choice!” Dino yelped, shoving him toward it. “It’s that or face the mob!”

The four scrambled into the dumpster, tumbling over each other in a tangle of limbs and snack bags. Yn landed on Vernon, who groaned, “This is the worst night of my life,” while Seungkwan’s elbow jabbed Dino in the ribs, earning a muffled “Ow, watch it!”

They yanked the lid shut just as the fans rounded the corner, their voices echoing. “Where’d they go?!” “I swear I saw YN’s bunny pajamas!” “Dino, come back!”

Huddled in the dark, reeking of old takeout and regret, the four held their breath. Seungkwan whispered, “If we survive this, I’m never speaking to you again, yn.”

“You love me too much,” she whispered back, grinning despite the stench. “Admit it—this is kinda fun.”

“FUN?!” Dino hissed. “We’re in a dumpster! In New York! With fans hunting us like we’re Bigfoot!”

Vernon, squished against the side, muttered, “At least Bigfoot doesn’t have to deal with Coups hyung.”

The fans lingered for what felt like hours (really just ten minutes), snapping pics of the alley and debating where their idols had vanished to. Finally, the voices faded, and the four peeked out, disheveled and smelling like a fast-food graveyard.

“We’re alive,” Seungkwan gasped, climbing out and brushing off a soggy fry. “Barely.”

Yn hopped out last, still clutching her camera triumphantly. “See? Told you it’d be an adventure! We’ve got stories for days now!”

“We’re lost,” Vernon suddenly whispered, peering out from behind. “I don’t even know what street this is. Is this still New York? Are we in New Jersey now?”

Dino hugged his knees, his voice trembling. “I just wanna go home. I’m 18. I shouldn’t be hiding in alleys like a fugitive!”

Seungkwan, on the verge of tears, clutched a soggy candy bar he’d salvaged from his pocket. “This is it. We’re gonna get kidnapped or eaten by rats, and it’s all her fault!” He jabbed a finger at yn, who was fiddling with her camera like they weren’t in the middle of a crisis.

“Relax, drama queens,” yn said, rolling her eyes. “We’re fine! We just need a plan.” She paused, then grinned. “We call Manager-nim. The nice one—Minseok oppa. He’s chill. He won’t snitch.”

“Are you insane?!” Seungkwan hissed, his voice cracking. “He’ll tell Coups hyung, and then we’re dead!”

“We don’t have a choice!” Vernon snapped, snatching yn’s phone. “We’re lost, it’s 3 AM, and I’m not sleeping in this alley with whatever’s crawling over there.” He pointed at a shadowy shape that might’ve been a rat—or a really big roach.

Dino nodded frantically. “Call him. I’ll take the lecture over dying out here.”

Yn sighed, relenting. “Fine. But I’m doing the talking.” She dialed Minseok’s number, and the four held their breath as it rang.

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

Back at the hotel, Manager Minseok was dead asleep, sprawled across his bed with his phone buzzing on the nightstand. The screen lit up with “YN” in bold letters, and the time—3:02 AM—glared accusingly. He groaned, sitting up with a sigh that could’ve powered a wind turbine. “This girl…” he muttered, already grabbing his wallet and jacket before answering. He knew trouble when he saw it. “Okay, where are you?”

On the other end, yn blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?? How’d you know I’m not in the hotel??”

Minseok pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yn, I’ve been your manager for two years. I’d be shocked if you were in the hotel. Just tell me where you are.”

Dino snatched the phone, his voice a panicked squeak. “Can you please just say it, yn?! I’m freaking out, Seungkwan’s crying, and I don’t wanna die in an alley!”

“Dino?!” Minseok’s tone sharpened. “Who else is with you?”

The bickering erupted—Seungkwan wailing, “She dragged us out here!” while Vernon muttered, “I’m never leaving my room again,” and yn protested, “I just wanted snacks and a walk!” Minseok sighed again, louder this time. “Where. Are. You.”

“We’re… uh…” Yn squinted at a faded street sign. “Somewhere near a park? There’s a playground and a really smelly alley?”

“Stay put,” Minseok ordered, already heading to the hotel garage. “I’m coming.”

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

Half an hour later, Minseok’s car rolled up to the alley, headlights illuminating four guilty, disheveled figures huddled behind the boxes. Yn waved sheepishly, still in her bunny pajamas, while the boys looked like they’d aged ten years. They piled into the backseat, a tangle of limbs and snack wrappers, and Minseok launched into a lecture before the doors even closed.

“Do you have any idea how reckless this was?” he said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “Sneaking out in a foreign country, in the middle of a tour? What if you’d gotten hurt? Or lost forever? Or—”

“It was yn’s fault!” Seungkwan blurted, pointing at her like she was a wanted criminal.

“Yeah, she said no one would recognize us!” Dino added, sinking lower in his seat.

“I was right until it went wrong!” Yn shot back, crossing her arms. “And you all followed me, so who’s really at fault here?”

Vernon just stared out the window, muttering, “I’m blaming everyone. Including myself.”

Minseok shook his head. “I’m not telling the other managers—or the members—as long as this never happens again. But you’re lucky I’m the one who picked up. If this gets out…” The four nodded like scolded puppies, too tired to argue. By the time they stumbled back into yn’s hotel room, they were still bickering over an escape plan—“We say we were sleepwalking!” “No, we blame jet lag!”—but exhaustion won out. They collapsed in a heap on her floor and bed, snoring before they could finish plotting.

Fast forward to their return to Korea. It was a quiet morning at the dorm, the tour finally behind them, when the internet exploded. Twitter lit up with blurry photos and shaky videos: “Idols Caught Running in New York!” “Seventeen Members Spotted at 3 AM!” The captions were wild—fans speculating everything from a secret mission to a zombie apocalypse. The pics showed yn’s unmistakable bunny pajamas, Dino’s flailing arms, Seungkwan’s panicked face, and Vernon’s resigned jog, all chased by a screaming mob.

The members crowded around Jeonghan’s phone in the living room, jaws dropping. “What the hell is this?!” Hoshi yelped, zooming in on Seungkwan’s mid-scream expression.

Joshua squinted at the screen. “Is that… yn? And Dino? And—wait, Vernon and Seungkwan too?!”

Seungcheol’s face darkened like a storm cloud. “They did what?”

The managers stormed in, Minseok trailing behind with a guilty look. The head manager glared at the four culprits, who’d just walked through the door, oblivious to the chaos. “Minseok says he picked you up that night in New York. Said you got ‘lost.’ Care to explain this?” He held up his phone, the video playing on loop.

Yn froze mid-step, her cute smile faltering. Dino paled. Seungkwan whimpered, “We’re dead,” and Vernon muttered, “I knew those pictures would haunt us.”

“They didn’t tell me fans chased them!” Minseok protested, throwing his hands up. “They just said they got lost after sneaking out for snacks!”

“Lies!” the head manager barked. “You’re all in deep trouble. Lecture time—now!”

The four sat through an hour of managerial wrath—phrases like “irresponsible,” “tour reputation,” and “what were you thinking?!” raining down like hail. Back at the dorm, Seungcheol was waiting at the front door, arms crossed, steam practically pouring from his ears.

Yn, ever the optimist, tried her charm. “Coups oppa!” She threw her arms around him in a big hug, batting her lashes. “We’re so sorry! It was an accident, I swear—”

“Nope,” Seungcheol said, peeling her off like a sticky toddler. “Enough is enough. You four are cleaning the dorm for two months. Room by room, top to bottom. And laundry duty—every sock, every towel, every sweaty practice shirt. Don’t even think about whining.”

“Two MONTHS?!” Seungkwan wailed, clutching Dino for support. “I’ll never survive!”

“And yn,” Seungcheol added, pointing at her with a glare that could melt steel, “you’re getting a tracker. I’m done chasing you around the world. Next time you sneak out, I’ll know exactly where to drag you back from.”

“A tracker?!” yn gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been betrayed. “That’s dystopian! I’m not a dog!”

“You’re worse,” Vernon deadpanned, slumping against the wall. “Dogs listen.”

Dino groaned, already envisioning endless mop buckets. “I’m never leaving my room again. Ever.”

Seungkwan sniffled dramatically. “My career’s over. I’ll be known as ‘the running idol’ forever!”

The other members snickered from the sidelines—Hoshi reenacting Seungkwan’s sprint, Mingyu plotting to hide extra laundry for them to find—while the four culprits trudged off to start their punishment. Yn, still clutching her camera, muttered, “Worth it,” under her breath, earning glares from the boys.

“Say that again when we’re elbow-deep in your dirty socks,” Dino grumbled, but a tiny smirk betrayed him. They’d survived New York—barely—and though the punishment loomed, they knew this would be another legendary tale in Seventeen’s chaotic history. Assuming they could dodge Seungcheol’s tracker plan, of course.

And so, the saga ended with brooms, laundry baskets, and yn plotting her next escape—tracker or not—while the boys vowed (again) to never follow her lead. Spoiler: they totally would.

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

an: okay, this is long—like, ‘I need a snack break’ long. I’m pretty sure it’s the longest au I’ve ever made up, but here it is, served fresh! Hope you like it! I forced myself to make it as short and funny as I could, though my brain was like ‘MORE!’ Also, I was laughing like a mad scientist the whole time—my imagination went full clown mode, AHAHAHhAHA!

[neeeooon]

shut me up ;

10 | y/n and the groupies

you thought the boys might be a little shy with you in the car, but if they were, they definitely didn't seem it.

your hand was glued to the door handle for support with bachira behind the wheel. he had a lead foot, pressing down on the gas when there was no one in front of him and slamming on the brakes when someone was. some rock song you weren't familiar with was blaring from the speakers, yet it did next to nothing to drown out the loud chatter coming from the backseat.

"i didn't even know hedgehog bites could hurt so bad! something so small shouldn't cause so much pain." isagi looked at his pointer finger and shivered. you smiled when shidou teased him for getting on pocari's bad side. when bachira caught the way your brows scrunched, he leaned toward you and said, "pocari is isagi and his roommate's pet hedgehog. well, technically, he's all kurona's, but isagi likes to play step-daddy—ow! hey, don't hit the driver!" you can’t miss the scowl isagi shoots at his friend. it sends you into a short fit of laughter.

“we’re almost there,” you hear shidou say from the seat behind you, and nod while flashing him a thumbs up. “sweet! my friend said he’ll be waiting outside for me.”

you’d asked the boys in advance if reo could join, and they were pleased to hear that they had some fanboys willing to show their support front row. bachira shook his head when he processed your words. “nah, have him park around back so we can all go in together. you said he’s a fan, right? maybe he’ll want an autograph!”

“jeez, humble much?” isagi groaned, ignoring the glare bachira sent him through the rearview. you smiled. “he would lose his mind if he saw you guys up close, let alone talk to you.”

“i’m not gonna lie, y/n,” shidou began, hand gripping the back of your headrest. “the effect this has on my ego is not good. it’s such a turn-on.”

“ew!” isagi pressed himself against his car door to get as far away from shidou as possible.

the rest of the ride was fairly peaceful, with bachira filling any silences with mindless chatter. you now know more about the history of dolphins than you'd like.

"we're here!" bachira cheered, pulling the car to a shuddering stop before parking. looking around, you spotted a bar a few buildings away and gasped when you realized it was chigiri and kunigami's. "hey, my friends work there!" you beamed, pointing pridefully at the little bar.

shidou stepped out next and appeared at your side. "i think we played there a few times when we were just starting out. cool place." you flashed him a smile and let the trio lead you into the club.

there were two men already backstage, and you quickly recognized by their matching teal eyes that they were the itoshi brothers—the drummer and bass player. they greeted you with matching, bored looks, but you waved anyway. "nice to see you again, sae. doing well?"

his lips quirked. "doing well. how's the apartment treating you?" you nodded, inviting him and his brother rin to movie night when the door slammed open once more, and a blond appeared. you raised a brow, but the second you spotted the smear of lipstick on his neck, you knew who this was. you fought the urge to sneer. "michael kaiser! it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

he looked you up and down in a way that made you feel scandalized, but once sae introduced you as y/n, he let out a chuckle. "the one who threatened to beat me with a broom, right?"

"i did not!" you totally did and shot a quick glare at isagi, bachira, and shidou for tattling on you to their bandmate. whatever else you wanted to say was wiped from your mind when your phone buzzed with a text from reo, informing you he'd arrived.

"my friend's here!" you announced to the group as you slipped between bachira and shidou to reach the exit. "good luck performing! i'll be cheering you all on." you didn't give them a chance to reply before darting around the corner to see reo.

masterlist // previous (ch 9) // next (ch 11)

notes -> poll will be out today ;)

tags -> @x3nafix @n0tbelle @nensi @ohagiyo @tired-child00 @melinana @chaoslibra @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @miss-aesthetic-13 @ihsoti @arwawawa2 @lonigiri @realrintaro @mivqko @sorasushik1 @pookalicious-hq @higuchislut @tofumiarchives @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @rainychi2 @ch4rstxr @sapph1r3x @sagging-saging @5-laska @tuna-toes @seinuis @sindulgent666 @evilari111 @newinhalerpls @kisses2kanao @sugacor3 @meizumi @90s-belladonna @meowstertruck420 @kyutiipie @ranzess @cookiesandcreammy @nevvynev @stwberri @mikeymyfav @dontmindtheevie @kaikaidenkai @mizukiblogs @ravenbc @beoms-sugar @cyberasterrr @lily-isalittlegirl @yourlocaleffy @hanamatopoeia @silverwings920 @ihe4rtme @sharks31

© neeeooon, 2025

[sturns-mermaid]

GOOD BOY .ᐟ

"everyone knows I'm a good boy officer."

WARNINGS: sub matt, rough dom reader, mentions of anxiety, matt gets overstimulated, reader helps calm him down, handcuffs, hand job, pet names, smearing cum on lips, officer reader x citizen matt

wc:967? | more here | not proofread sorry :(

not my divider

You were on your night shift, running on three cups of coffee and a breath mint you had popped in your mouth after you and your partner had gotten burgers at a local diner. LA was always bustling at the hour, plus it was a Friday night, and people were out clubbing and getting wasted. You dreaded nights like these, all the sketchy people wandering the streets. You had worked for the Los Angeles police department, tonight you were training some rookie on how to handle drunks. The same rookie who was still nowhere to be found after you sent him on a coffee run twenty minutes ago, leaving you standing on a corner by a nearby club. The cold night air nipped at your skin, and even though you had worn your heavy jacket, a shiver still went down your spine.

Rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm yourself up, your gaze wandered to a guy staggering out of the nightclub, the loud music echoing through the quiet night. The door slammed shut behind him causing him to jolt and lean against the brick wall of the building, his chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You didn’t think he posed any threat but he did look like he was going through something, his hands shaky and breathing ragged. Inching closer you saw the way he was squirming all antsy and anxious, he didn’t notice you at first.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask, resting a hand on his shuddering shoulder. “I-It started to get overwhelming in there…” he trailed off his body, tensing at your touch, eyes wandering between your face and the hand that rested on his shoulder. The air around you both was thick with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on, his chest continued to rise and fall a sign he might be having a panic attack. You nod your hand dropping to gently caress his arm, giving him a small smile. “Hey, it’s okay. Why don’t you do some jumping jacks for me?” you suggest watching as he scoffs and shakes his head. “W-Why would I do that?” he stutters his hand moving on his chest as he tries to catch his breath but ultimately fails causing him to panic even more.

“Just do it,” you sighed knowing it would help him to stop freaking out. He stepped back brushing off your touch, even though he’d hate to admit it was soothing him. “What no..” whispered his eyes growing wider as he gnawed on his bottom lip. You stepped closer crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him, something in your gaze told him he should comply.

“Count,” you say nodding as you watch him start to do the jumping jacks slowly counting. “Four, Five, Six…” he started to feel better, gaining the normal rhythm of his breathing again. His arms dropped at his side taking a deep breath, before his gaze met yours. “See I told you, it would help” You smile uncrossing your arms as you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“Do you feel better, baby?” you ask to close the distance between you both. His breath hitched once the pet name fell from your plump lips, his face instantly reddening. He nodded nuzzling into your touch like a touch-starved puppy, you’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t go straight to your core. “Do you need a ride home sweet boy?” you asked, whispering in his ear cold breath fanning over his hot skin. 

“How dare you try to make a move on me?” you growled pushing him up against your police car pinning his hands behind his back. “I-I’m sorry please,” he whined trying to get away from your grip. He was so out of it when he went to walk back to your patrol car his hand ‘accidentally’ grazed your ass.

You wanted some alone time with him, calling for someone to pick up the rookie so you could finish your shift alone. “Think I need to cuff you…” you teased, tightening your grip on his hands. “N-no please…” he begged, stomping his feet like he was throwing some kind of tantrum. In an instant, you pulled your handcuffs from your pocket and tightened the metal cuffs on his wrists.

“Much better, keeps those wandering hands at bay,” you spun him around his back pressed against the side of the car. “Please officer, everyone knows I'm a good boy” he pleaded, trying to convince you, making a chuckle slip past your lips. “Prove it.” 

His cock twitched in your hand as you roughly stroked him, his angry red tip leaking with pre cum making it easy for you to slip your hand over his length. “Officer…please” he whined bucking his hips into your palm. Your free hand moving abruptly stops his movements, fingers digging into his flesh. “So pathetic, and needy” your words ghost over his lips as you kiss him, your tongue exploring his mouth. He could come right then and there but he wanted to be good for you, his breath hitching when you took his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm, comin'-” he started causing you to bite down harder on his lip, tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t remember giving you permission to come,” titling your head your voice with faux sympathy. “I’m sorry…” he whimpered, squirming under your serious gaze as you moved back slightly, running your thumb over his sensitive slit. He tried hard not to come, but he did come spurting all your hands and uniform. “Aw, look at you making such a mess,” you coo, wiping his sticky release from your uniform and bringing it to his mouth, smearing it on his pouty lips. “You're mean,” he muttered under his breath. 

a/n: hopefully this isn't too much...

tags: @itsmaddielouis @oliviasthatgirl @brianna-grace12 @scorpio1205 @submattenthusiast @courta13 @mattsplaything @conspiracy-ash @anyaa2s @hazedsturns @eclipsturns @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @immaqulate @t0riiiis @heartsonlyforchris @blushsturns @hearts4werka @mattsbows @sweetshuga @leoslaboratory @pair-of-pantaloons @riasturns  @lezleeferguson-120 @sturnsflirt

[gregheiferly]

LOVEY-DOVEY

first comes love

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. established relationship, hurt to comfort, angst, fluff, leon’s mental problems, future smut, ddlg

note. the first of hopefully 3 chapters?!! i have lost the ability to write im ngl,,, i promised this fic over a year ago and never got it out but i forced myself thru it bc it’s been sitting around like unfinished for a year LMFAO so it’s clunky.. doesn’t make sense… and also i do want to make clear this isn’t supposed to be a baby and marriage = happy marriage sort of fic i just see that ending for this couple in particular.. anyway ignore typos,, ignore any mistakes and pretend it makes sense. feedback / rbs always appreciated!

i would also appreciate if you read this post about plagiarism by a user on both tumblr and ao3

lovey dovey

“I used to hear Hola! and jump—Oh, gosh, I’m not racist or anything, I voted—“ Ashley adjusts her monogrammed scarf, looking at him with her new face. It’s the same, but different. Tighter, brighter, when her eyes widen her brows don’t raise and when she pouts her chin doesn’t dimple. 

“Ashley.” Leon interrupts to get her back on track before it gets any worse. 

D.C. does its best to dampen his mood, torrential rain soaking him to the bone, but you’re wearing these tiny winter booties that make his day a little better. 

“I just bet, I mean I know Leon never tells you anything about Spain, or anything at all.” She waves her hands in a flourish, not a hair out of place. “I signed an NDA, I don’t know how long they last, but I’m sure it must be over by now, I don’t really believe in them to be honest–What is a piece of paper going to do? I mean, it’s not like the piece of paper knows who I’m telling.” 

“She’s too little to know,” Leon says out of instinct. He takes the role of Daddy very seriously these days. 

“Leon.“ You frown at him, it’s so cute he’ll think about it for hours. 

“Sorry.” Is all he can come up with. 

“Anyways, I wanted to ask about plans,” Ashley says, the exchange going unheard by her. 

(If she’s not talking she doesn’t really seem to care about the conversation at hand.)

“Plans?” Leon doesn’t follow, and neither do you.

“Oh, you know.” She dabs at the corner of her lip with a handkerchief that matches her scarf, her lipstick leaves a pink smear on the edge of her cup. It’s heart-shaped. Fucking Cupid over here. “Haven’t you ever thought about babies, Leon? You’re pretty old now.” 

That’s not her card to play. Shouldn’t he be asking her about babies? She’s only getting older, not many eggs left in her basket. But, y’know, that’s not very PC, and Leon really isn’t that bad. He’d like nothing more than for her to move at her own pace - it was hard enough seeing Sherry grow up, passing her off to a guy nearly ten years younger than her—And Leon is in no place to talk about age gaps, but guys are immature and stupid, he would know.

“Ashley,” he interrupts once more, though he has nothing to say at all. Marriage. Babies. Jesus Christ, you are the baby. He’s got jackets older than you. 

“We haven’t thought about it—I mean, I ask him about it sometimes, but nothing serious,” you tell her honestly, the corners of your mouth drooping downwards in a frown.

You are one unhappy little girl and he is in for one hell of a ride back home. 

“I never make plans that far ahead,” he says, rehearsed, before your soured mood runs off the edges of your face and into the rest of the room. Distemper in a dogfighting ring. 

“Hm.” You make a noise beside him, knee bumping his under the table. It’s a touchy subject. An untouchable subject, actually, because he refuses to sit down and talk about it, he shuts it down immediately. You can’t make babies with a baby, that’s just plain wrong. 

(But you can fuck said baby every which way. You can spit in the baby’s mouth and spank her raw. That’s perfectly normal.) 

“The next time I see you, Leon, it better be at your wedding,” Ashley warns him, a burnt orange blazer draped over her slender shoulders as she primps herself up enough to face a camera or two. “I’m happy to help with, well, with everything, I have a lot of time and money to waste so don’t think you’re bothering me. Oh and another thing—Leon?”

“Yeah?” He shifts from foot to foot, the arm circling your waist drops to his side limply. 

“You can call me anytime, you know that, right?” She stares at him, right through him with her big brown eyes. “And you know I can see when you’ve read my texts, right?” 

Leon nods stiffly, he stands there like a fucking scarecrow when she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I know,” he mumbles into perfumed hair. 

When you ask him, “Why didn’t you hug her back?”

He tells you, “I didn’t want to make you jealous.”

“I don’t get jealous.” That’s right. You’re a very self-assured little girl with your head screwed on right, he can’t go around telling such obvious lies. 

“Dunno, just felt weird,” Leon admits, plucking the fuzz off your sweater to keep his hands busy, “haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“That’s your fault.” You walk ahead and he knows you’re pissed. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

The air crackles with tension, heavy enough to shift the layout of Leon’s home a little to the left—Or maybe you really have gone and done that without telling him, taking over his world with parts of your own - it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. That’s got to be some form of gaslighting. He can’t even see the TV from this angle. 

“Baby?” Leon calls out.

You poke your head out of the kitchen. 

“Did you move my chair to the left or am I losing it?” He shifts in his seat, moves from left to right, leans back to try and understand what has gone on. 

“You’re losing it, I moved it to the right.” You wipe your wet hands on your skirt, it borders on frumpy, makes your hips look even wider. He pretends that he hasn’t ever thought about knocking you up. 

“Why, baby?” You’re testing his patience, being short with him, huffing and puffing and sticking your nose in the air.

“Because it looks better, but I can’t do it when you’re home ‘cause you never get up.” Carefully, you edge towards him, skirting around the room until you find yourself in daddy’s lap. 

The weight is grounding, his hands find your hips in no time, fingers dimpling the fat as he squeezes down to ease whatever is going on inside of him. “You can’t stay mad at me, baby.”

“Yes I can.” 

“Who’s gonna take care of you then, hm?” Leon asks, sliding his cold hands under shirt to grope your heavy tits. He pretends that he hasn’t thought about running his fingers over your lace bra to find milky wet patches. That he hasn’t thought about you, glassy-eyed and in desperate need of daddy’s help, pushing your leaky tits against his chest and begging him, pleading with him to take on the role of dairy farmer for the day.  

“I can take care of myself.” You shrug. So cold, so cute. “But you, daddy.” You kiss his nose. “Without me, you can’t even remember to take your meds.” 

That’s right. You did well without him. You didn’t need a daddy until you found the right daddy. You wanted a daddy so dearly, but you can take care of yourself just fine. You can pour your own juice and you can tie your laces and fix your hair just fine, it’s just better when daddy does it for you. 

“True,” Leon mumbles, he kneads your breasts contemplatively,  “but it’s good to ask daddy for things, I don’t want you getting hurt doing it on your own.” 

“I have bandaids.” Comes your rebuttal. 

“Baby, you’re being mean.” Leon’s voice verges on a whine. 

“I’m not being mean, Leon.” You let yourself melt into him, fat tits spilling through the gaps in his fingers. His hands are small and there’s too much of you to contain. “Why don’t you want to marry me?” 

That’s a loaded question. One he can’t quite answer because there’s no real answer and he doesn’t really want to answer it.

“You’re too good for me.” 

“Oh my goood,” you groan, rolling your eyes so hard you age backwards, and it really makes you look like a teenager—A little girl—It makes him feel like your father. Not your daddy, but your father. And hell, he’s old enough to play the part. 

“What?” 

“It turns me off when you say shit like that, like ohhh I’m such a old loser, I can’t even get it up, baby, why are you even with me?” You do your best Leon impression, it almost makes him smile. “You literally want everyone to feel bad for you all the time, and you know what, Leon?”

“What?” Leon says again. He’s feeling parched. Lightheaded. Sick. Psychotic. Bad. Just fucking bad. Everything gets so bad when you’re not smiling at him.

“I can’t feel bad for you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—You don’t tell anyone what’s going on so nobody feels bad for you.” You stand up, his hands are left cold and empty. “Only you feel bad for yourself, you literally sit around all day drinking and feeling shitty about sitting around and drinking—You don’t even want to do anything anymore, you didn’t even want to see Ashley today! She loves you so much, she’s your friend and you can’t even text her back because, because… Well, I don’t even know!”

“Baby—“

“You don’t go to therapy and you forget to take your meds, and, and I have to remind you all the time and—“ You take a breath, your lips moving soundlessly as you count to ten. “I don’t mind doing that for you, I like taking care of you and I like when you take care of me—It makes me happy that you let me y’know do that…” You gesture to a stray pacifier on the coffee table. “And I love you, Leon, but it’s just like you never want to fix anything, you just want to stay like this and I don’t want that, Leon—“

“Babe–“

”I told you that I wanted to get married, I told you that it would be a problem for me if you didn’t want kids, Leon—I don’t want to be with you if you don’t want that with me, I told you that before we got serious and you said yes and now—“ You throw your hands in the air, cutting yourself off with a half-aborted sob and splitting his heart right down the middle.

“It’s not like that, baby,” Leon starts gently, pushing up out of his armchair so he can hold you like you need to be held, “I didn’t… It’s not you, you know that don’t you? You’re perfect, you’re a good girl, it’s just…”

“What?” You press your face into his chest, searching for comfort as you run your hands over his back. “It’s what?”

“It’s me.” 

“Oh my god, Leon.” Your voice breaks, and you look up at him. For a minute it’s like you’re in soft-focus, like you’re a love letter gone yellow with time, sepia-stained and unspeakably tender and—and the reel is burning away because you’re too beautiful to last forever. You’re the most fragile little package, stamped to handle with care and he’s tossed you onto someone's lawn and you’re going to be plucked away by a porch pirate and—God, he’s such a fuck-up. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

Might be cliche, but it’s true. It’s him, not you. It’s always him. It’s why he’s been alone for so long. It’s not work, it’s not what happened in Spain or Talk Oaks, not even Raccoon City—Not mom, not dad, not Ada or Jack or Ashley or the fucking President, it’s not some grand, tragic circumstance—It’s just him. 

“If I marry you…” Leon’s mouth dries up while he flicks through a mental Rolodex of excuses. 

I drink too much. I’m depressed and probably bipolar. I’m infertile. You’re a baby, I can’t have babies with a baby. You’re too young. I’m too old. Especially for kids. I look like I could be your dad. I’m suicidal and needy and if we have kids what if you like them more than me? I work a lot. What if I put our kids in danger? What if I put you in danger? What if I’m a shit dad? What if you stop liking me after we tie the knot? You’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you and you want to marry an old man? You should leave me for someone younger. Please don’t leave me. 

All of it is true, although none of it is an honest answer to your question—The answer is quite simple really—Leon won’t marry you because he refuses to be happy. 

“If I marry you,” he says again, eyes flickering from your eyes to your pout, “what will Sherry think?” 

Your hands are in tight fists by your sides, bottom

lip trembling as you struggle to remain impassive—And he knows you like the back of his hand, like the veins in his dick—That wrinkled nose could only mean one thing. You’re not about to cry, you’re mad at him. 

“Leon.” Your jaw tightens, grinding your teeth into a fine powder. “You know Sherry isn’t thinking about you, right?”

“How could you say that?” He asks, somewhere between hurt and confused. 

“I’m just… Like, fuck, Leon!” You angle your face away from him, cycling through every stage of grief as you gather your thoughts. “It’s not about what Sherry wants or what she’s thinking or whatever, it’s about what I want and what you want.” 

“But—“

“She isn't a part of our relationship, Leon, nobody is.” You tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling and squeezing your eyes shut. Praying or doing a breathing exercise. “Like… Like you don’t like Jake and she still married him because he makes her happy, Leon—Why don’t you want to be happy with me, Leon?”

“I am happy,” he lies. 

“Don’t lie to me, Leon—Do I not make you happy, is that what it is?” You look at him helplessly and he stands there with nothing to say. 

“You do make me happy,” Leon insists softly, you’re the only thing that makes him happy. Light of his life, apple of his eye, the centre of his whole entire world.

“I just don’t get it anymore, Leon.” 

Oh, god.

“I don’t… I made it clear that I wanted something serious, I want to marry you and I want to have kids with you—I don’t get why you would lead on me like that.” You cross your arms over your chest, bracing for his answer. “Has all of this been for nothing?”

To be entirely frank - Leon is being selfish. 

He’d rather keep you in limbo than let you move on with someone else. He doesn’t want to think about you in bed with someone else, calling someone else daddy, letting them touch you and take care of you—It makes him dizzy, he’s getting jealous of a guy he made up in his fucking head. You’re the only good thing in his piece of shit life and he has no intention of letting you go—He really should, and he probably would if you asked him a year ago, before the D word but now—

Leon feels out of place. 

If he’s not your daddy, then who is he? 

“You’re just… You’re just freaking out ‘cause Ashley put it in your head,” Leon retorts childishly, “we don’t need a baby to be happy.” You’re the only baby he needs to be happy. 

“Are you kidding, Leon?” Your nose is running and you wipe at your face with balled up fists. “Don’t make this about Ashley, you know that isn’t the problem—I really can’t believe you, if you're not serious about me then why are you still with me?”

Truthfully, he didn’t mean for all of this to go so far - then your toothbrush joined his, your Sylvanians found a nice spot on his mantle next to the potpourri, the whole daddy thing happened—

And all of that means that this is not a midlife crisis or a fling or a distraction. 

It means that you’re his girlfriend, the woman he loves.

“I am serious about you.” 

We just want different things, would be the right way to put it. It’s not entirely true, but Leon doesn’t know how to tell you that peace is unrecognisable to him. He doesn’t know what it feels like, it scares him, the finality of marriage and kids and all of these childish dreams he had so long ago—It’s scary, and it takes a lot and Leon could shoulder the whole fucking world if he had to and the whole fucking world is a lot. He’s done it before. Jesus Christ, he’s fought creatures that go beyond the scope of human understanding, but all of it comes to an end. Fights end. Missions get completed. Damsels are saved and monsters are slain and Leon gets home okay as he can be. 

But this… Marriage. There’s no way out—Like, there’s divorce, obviously, but something about marriage is permanent. He can’t shoot a gun and get out of a marital dispute, and he can’t outrun a missed birthday because ultimately he has to come home to you.

Coming home to you sounds good. It is good. It’s the reason he bothers coming home after work instead of bumming around in bars like he used to. But, but, but it’s about trust and working together and while nothing will really change you’ll legally own him and he’ll legally be yours and that’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young to take on and technically you’re already doing all of these responsible things for him and—Marriage is just different, okay?

“I don’t think you are, Leon.” You blink at him slowly, sadly. 

“I am,” Leon insists because he is serious about this. About you. He loves you and he knows that, but he’s fine with what you have now. Girlfriend-Boyfriend. Daddy and baby. “I am, baby, but don’t you think that we're moving into this too fast?”

“It’s been two years, Leon.” Another slow, sad blink, you look off to the side. “I told you I was dating to marry, Leon, I told you what I wanted, I want kids with you—And I’m sorry but you’re not getting any younger, if you’re just wasting my time—“

Something sharp and ugly takes hold of his chest. ”You just think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a baby, that's all you want from me.” That isn’t what Leon wanted to say, but the room is getting too small and that struck a fucking nerve. 

“Excuse me?” 

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A rotten sole-crushed peach, that's all he is, it’s true. And he doesn’t deserve you, but he doubles down selfishly. “You think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a kid,” he repeats, “that’s why you’re freaking out about this now.” Leon’s so very talented at fucking things up. Paperwork, his liver, his entire fucking life. 

“No… That’s not—Are you kidding me? Is that all you got from this, Leon?” You’re looking at him with these accusatory eyes and you’re not calling him daddy or tugging at the back of his shirt for attention. “How could you say that about me? Is that what you think of me?”

Leon would like to say no and he’d like to apologise, instead he fumes silently, teeth clenched so tightly they’ve started to ache. “C’mon, use your big girl words and tell me the truth.” He’s not very tall, but he’s taller than you - he looks down his nose at you. 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Leon.” The shift in his behaviour is new, you’re used to his self-loathing, his laziness and reluctance and his general unlikeability, but this—Leon has never been mad at you, and he doesn’t want to be mad at you and he’s more mad at himself than he is you—But still, like, he looks mad at you and he can see the way you’re trembling, puffing out your chest and standing your ground to appear so much bigger than you are. It breaks his heart, he’s the worst daddy ever. The most dick-headed jerk of a boyfriend and you’re still here. Fighting for him, well, with him, you’re here and you’re fighting with him, that’s still something. 

“Why not?” Leon tilts his head to the side, his face softening in faux confusion. “You like it so much, don’t you?”

God, maybe he’s not so normal after all, and you haven’t fixed him, and bad thoughts always come back, and if he was normal he wouldn’t be wanting to jump off every balcony and walk into every main road and disappear into bodies of water.

Leon isn’t normal. Big surprise.

He’s just starting to realise that it doesn’t matter how many people love him, it doesn’t matter how many medals he’s awarded, it doesn’t matter that he’s a treasure to some degree, an old gun worth keeping—None of it matters, Leon realises, none of it will ever fucking matter because he is who he is. 

Leon is going to lead a miserable dogshit life because he can and he will and it doesn’t matter how many good or bad things happen to him, it doesn’t matter who he falls asleep next to - he’ll still feel shitty in the morning. 

(At the end of the day, he’s a Kennedy, and no Kennedy has ever been particularly lucky.) 

“I’m trying to be serious, Leon, and you’re acting like a child!” Your bottom lip quivers, and you’re probably wondering where your daddy has gone. “I can’t… I can’t believe you’re talking to me like that right now.” 

Neither can Leon. 

Guilt coils in his gut like a snake, constricting and hissing in the back of his head that he should know better, he’s so much older, he’s your daddy, and he’s meant to take care of you. That’s what daddies are for.  

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to force you into this, Leon, I don’t want to make you marry me if you don’t want me—“ He does want you. He wants you so bad. “—I don’t want to force you to have kids with me if you’re not ready, I just wish you had told me before I moved in with you—“ The hurt that crosses your face strikes him right in the heart, teardrops beading your gossamer lashes. 

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, quietly, earnestly, not daring to take a step closer because he doesn’t deserve to feel you or smell you or touch you, “I want to be with you, I love you.” 

“I don’t know anymore, Leon.” You look to him helplessly, blinking up at him with these big doleful eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, equally as helpless, “I don’t know.” 

He’s your daddy, he’s meant to know, but he doesn’t, so he just stands there like an idiot. 

“I’m sad,” you tell him honestly, “I’m going to go upstairs now.”

Leon goes to follow you.

“Don't follow me.”

Leon goes back to standing there like a fucking idiot. 

[bktempted]

Last train. The bass from the party still thumps dimly in your ears as you stand on the near deserted platform. It's late, much later than you intended, and the chill night air prickles against your skin, a stark contrast to the sweaty crush of bodies you just left. Your ride ditched you, and now, this train is your only option.

You check the schedule again on your phone, screen glaringly bright in the dim station. Yep, the last one. The one the old station attendant just warned you about.

"You sure about this one, miss?" he'd asked, polishing the already gleaming ticket counter. "Got a bit of a... reputation, that last train. Folks say strange things happen on it." He lowered his voice. "Especially for a lone women. Heard whispers... probably just talk, mind you, but..."

You'd waved him off with a smile, buying your ticket. "It's my only way home. Besides," you added, a spark of something reckless igniting within you, "I’m sure I can handle it."

He just shook his head, muttering about foolish youth. But he didn't know the half of it. You had heard the rumors. Vague, dark whispers online, late night forum threads, stories dismissed as urban legends. A train where rules didn't apply, where inhibitions vanished, where... things happened. Things you usually only read about in the anonymous corners of the internet.

Most days, you'd dismiss it too. But tonight... tonight was different. The party, the drinks, the lingering buzz of adrenaline — it all combined into a heady cocktail of boredom and curiosity. A dangerous little voice in the back of your mind whispered, what if it's true?

The distant rumble grows louder, headlights cutting through the darkness. The train slides into the station, brakes hissing. It looks ordinary enough, maybe a bit older, a bit more worn than the usual commuter carriages. The doors slide open with a pneumatic sigh.

You hesitate for only a second. This is it. The point of no return. Turn back, call an expensive cab, wait an hour in the cold? Or step aboard?

A thrill, sharp and illicit, courses through you. You want to know. You want to see if the rumors hold a grain of truth. With a deep breath, you step over the threshold.

The doors hiss shut behind you, the sound unnervingly final. The carriage isn't empty. Far from it. But as your eyes adjust to the low, flickering light, you notice it. Only men. Seated, standing, leaning against the poles – a dozen or so, maybe more. And they're all looking at you.

No one speaks. The air is thick with unspoken tension. It's not overtly threatening, not yet, but it's undeniably... predatory. Eyes trace the lines of your body, lingering. You feel stripped bare, even fully clothed. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels on the tracks.

You expected something, but the reality of being the sole woman, the focus of so many intense, male gazes, is overwhelming. You grip the cold metal pole near the door. You told yourself you wanted this, wanted to tempt fate. Well, here it is.

———

The silence stretches, broken only by the steady clack-clack-clack of the wheels on the tracks. It’s a hypnotic metronome, pulling you deeper into the strange reality of this carriage. Their eyes are still on you, a collective weight you can feel pressing against your skin. There’s no conversation, no pretense of normalcy. It’s raw, stripped down to the base awareness of male and female, predator and… well, you’re not entirely sure you’re prey. Not when you walked into this willingly, a dangerous curiosity burning brighter than any fear.

Your breath hitches as one man detaches himself from the group near the connecting door. He’s tall, dressed in dark clothes, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He doesn’t hurry, his deliberate steps echoing slightly in the tense quiet. He stops a few feet away, simply watching you. Waiting.

You meet his gaze, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. This is it. The moment the fantasy becomes real. You chose this. You wanted to know what happened on the midnight train. You lick your lips, a nervous gesture that feels amplified, almost performative, in this charged space.

His eyes track the movement, a flicker of something dark — hunger — crossing his features. He takes another step, closing the distance. He reaches out, not fast, not threateningly, but with undeniable intent. His fingers brush against the side of your neck, tracing the line of your jaw. You don't pull away. You can’t. You won't. This is the price of admission.

His thumb sweeps across your lower lip, and you gasp softly. The sound seems deafening. Another man moves closer then, from your other side. You feel the heat of his body before he even touches you. A hand settles on your waist, firm and possessive. Your breath stops in your throat. It’s happening.

Slowly, inevitably, others begin to close in. Not rushing, but surrounding you, a tightening circle of male presence. Hands ghost over your arms, your back, your hips. Each touch stripping away layers of inhibition you didn't even realize you still possessed. The air grows thick with the scent of cologne and sweat.

Someone tugs gently at the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the bare skin of your stomach. You shiver, arching slightly into the touch. Another hand slides into your hair, tilting your head back. You find yourself looking up into a pair of intense, dark eyes. He doesn't speak, just searches your face, as if gauging your reaction. He sees the flush rising on your cheeks, the slight parting of your lips, the way your breathing has quickened.

A low murmur ripples through the men, a collective understanding passing between them. The energy shifts, sharpens. The initial tension breaks, replaced by a palpable wave of lust. His mouth descends towards yours. Just before contact, you hear the train horn blow, long and low, a mournful sound swallowed by the night. But the train doesn't slow. It barrels onward, faster now, it seems, deeper into the darkness.

His kiss is demanding. It’s not gentle, not tentative. It’s a claim. And you meet it with equal force. The fear is melting away, consumed by a burgeoning heat pooling low in your belly. This is overwhelming, terrifying, and utterly, intoxicatingly exciting.

More hands are on you now, bolder, more intimate. Sliding under your clothes, exploring curves, eliciting gasps and moans that you barely recognize as your own. You feel yourself being pressed back against the cool metal wall of the carriage, the vibrations of the train mingling with the tremors caused by exploring fingers.

Eyes closed, you give yourself over to the sensations. The scrape of stubble against your cheek, the heat of breath on your neck, the surprising tenderness of one hand cupping your face while another explores more boldly. It's a dizzying kaleidoscope of touch and pressure. You're surrounded, engulfed, the center of a vortex of attention you secretly craved.

Someone lifts you effortlessly, setting you onto one of the worn vinyl seats. Clothes are being pushed aside, buttons undone, zippers lowered. Your own hands become bolder, reaching out, touching firm chests, strong arms. You're no longer just receiving; you're participating, driven by a desperate, rising need. The warnings, the rumors — they didn't prepare you for the sheer intensity of this, the complete surrender of control, the raw, primal energy filling the carriage.

The clatter of the train is the only constant, a driving beat beneath the sounds of heavy breathing, rustling clothes, and your own increasingly vocal pleasure. There's no turning back. The train speeds on, taking you further and further into the night, and deeper into the fantasy you dared to chase.

———

Things are getting rougher now, teeth clashing, tongues demanding entry. It’s a raw claiming, and you meet it head on, a groan vibrating in your chest. Hands are tangled in your hair, holding you steady as another man’s mouth finds the sensitive curve of your neck, sucking a mark onto your skin that you know will bloom dark tomorrow – a souvenir. You gasp, arching into the dual assault on your senses.

Your top is gone now, pulled away impatiently, followed swiftly by your bra. Cool air hits your bare skin for only a moment before warm hands cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples with exquisite pressure. You cry out, the sound swallowed immediately by a kiss. Fingers pinch and pull, sending bolts of pure pleasure straight down to your core, where a frantic heat is building, demanding attention.

You feel hands at the waistband of your jeans, the button popping open, the zipper sliding down with agonizing slowness. Rough denim scrapes against your thighs as they’re pushed down your legs, taking your panties with them. Kicks send them somewhere into the dimly lit carriage. You’re completely exposed now, laid bare on the worn seat, the slightly sticky vinyl presssing against your back.

A hand slides between your legs, fingers finding you slick and ready. You gasp, hips bucking instinctively off the seat. He groans, a low, appreciative sound, as his fingers dip inside you, stretching you, learning your shape. Another man kneels on the floor before you, his face buried between your thighs. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, tracing patterns that make you writhe. The combination is electric – both invasion and worship all at once.

You reach out blindly, hands finding hard muscle, belt buckles, the straining fabric of trousers. You want to touch them, feel them, return some measure of this overwhelming sensory input. Your fingers fumble with a button fly, freeing hot, hard flesh. The man whose cock you now hold groans your name, or maybe it’s just a guttural sound of need, pushing himself into your hand.

The man kissing you pulls back slightly, lips swollen, eyes dark with feral hunger. He looks down at the other man pleasuring you with his mouth, then back to your face, a possessive glint in his eyes. More hands are on you, stroking your legs, your stomach, your arms. You feel utterly consumed, adrift on a sea of sensation. Every nerve ending is on fire, overloaded.

The man kneeling before you increases his tempo, his tongue relentless, driving you higher and higher. Your moans become louder, less inhibited. You hear the rustle of more clothing, the low murmurs of the men watching, waiting. The air is thick with the scent of arousal, yours and theirs.

Just as you feel the first ripples of climax building from the insistent pressure between your legs, the man above you positions himself. You feel the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, nudging past the fingers still buried inside you. He pauses, letting you feel his size, his heat. You meet his gaze, a silent question asked and answered. You nod, almost imperceptibly, lifting your hips to meet him.

He thrusts forward, filling you completely. A sharp cry escapes you, a mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure. He’s thick, stretching you wide. He stays still for a moment, buried deep inside, letting you adjust, letting the men surrounding you watch. The man at your thighs hasn’t stopped, his tongue now working in rhythm with the pulsing pressure inside you.

Then, the first man begins to move. Slow, deep thrusts that rock your whole body. The rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the train wheels re-emerges, a primal beat driving you both. Another man takes one of your hands, bringing your fingers to his mouth, sucking on them gently. Someone else strokes your hair back from your sweat-damp forehead.

It’s too much, yet not nearly enough. Every touch, every thrust, every lick sends shockwaves through you. The climax that was building before surges back, stronger this time, fueled by the friction inside and the relentless attention above and below. Your vision blurs. The faces around you become indistinct shapes in the flickering light. All that exists is the pounding within you, the slick slide of flesh on flesh, the hot mouths, the grasping hands, and the relentless, driving motion of the train carrying you deeper into the debauchery you craved.

You cry out again as the orgasm hits, intense and shattering, arching your back off the seat, your body convulsing around the man buried deep inside you. But it's far from over. Even as the waves of pleasure begin to recede, you feel him continue to thrust, and you see another man positioning himself, ready to take his place, or maybe even join him. The train shows no signs of stopping. And neither do they.

[meathunt]

LittleLamb

Yandere sheriff

TW none i think :]

-------------* . ` ✧*˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♤  ꒱ ˎˊ˗  * ✧`.  *------------- You closed the hood of your rented car with more force than it was needed, you give up, you can say in your expert opinion that your engine is completely dead, no matter what you tried it didn’t work.

Squatting you took out your phone, the same black screen that has been there for the last hour was looking back at you. You knew that you had low battery before you started this road trip but you guessed you would just charge it in your car, to then find out 2 hours in that you somehow took the wrong cable when packing, but even then you decided that it was no biggie, just buy one on the next gas station you come across right?

WRONG

Now look at you, on the ground in a complete deserted road, with a dead car, the night and cold fastly approaching, and no way of communication to get help. You were deciding if it was worth it to walk back on your own and hope for the best.

You could only guess one to two hours have passed, no other car appeared on the road, and the darkness has fallen around you.

Deciding at last minute to not leave your car you huddle up inside it, opening your bag and bundling up as it started to get rather cold inside. You won’t even lie, you are very scared, not knowing what will happen to you, or if someone is even looking for you, after all you were going to meet with some friends, but to reach their city it would be at least a whole day more of travel on car.

Curling up inside on the back seat, you hopped tomorrow would be a better day, or to at least wake up with a better idea of what to do.

A knock on your window startled you awake, making you sit up in a second, and then feel that your back was killing you, if you can help it you won’t ever sleep on a car again.

Another knock got your attention, and turning to the window you freeze in place.

An intimidating man towers over your window, salt and pepper beard framing his face, he motions for you to get out and you follow suit.

Now outside you can get more details about him, he has a brown hat, a little bit old but it adds personality, he seems to be in some kind of uniform, and his car confirms that he is in fact a sheriff.

“So?” he straightens up, towering above you “Can I ask what a child is doing alone sleeping in a car? Are you runnin’ away from somewhere kiddo? Stole your Dad's truck on the way out?”

Relief flows in you as you crane your head to look up at him “No sir! I actually was on a trip to X city” You tell him with a smile “But I got stranded out here with no signal”

He looks you over with a frown, making you nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt “¿On a road trip alone?” You nod, and you could have sworn that his frown deepens, but before you can really see he goes near your car “Then, what’s the problem with this thing?” He looks at your car “Don’t think you slept there for fun “

You give him an embarrassed smile and launch onto an explanation of what you think is wrong, after all you have almost no experience with fixing cars so you really are taking shots in the dark, and by his amused expression on the solutions you tried, you most likely were making a fool of yourself.

The sun still wasn’t waking up, how early was it? You yawned when you finished the explanation “You know, you most likely will have to pay an arm and a leg to tow it to the closest mechanic” He looked over your car “I can give you ride into town, let you crash in my place, after all is way too early for anything to be open. The town is a little bit out of the way from the road, but I’m guessing is better than staying out here, ay?”

Still feeling the pain of sleeping in your car, and the relief of seeing someone else you don’t even take a second and accept his office.

The drive is filled with your excited talking about any and all topics, talking about your trip, and the stress of your day to day, about how happy you were about taking a vacation. His responses aren’t cold, but they are short and to the point, but not in an unfriendly way, you feel heard and when you push it, he actually engages with you, telling you about the town and the people that live in it, what he does and what not.

You two finally reach his home, after the trip where you saw some crops and barns on the way, you arrive at a small property, small may be a stretch, but comparing it with the neighbors it qualifies as so, he helps carrying your bag even when you assure him you can do it, and he brings you to a guest room. You sit at the bed, jumping a little bit on it, it’s surprisingly comfortable for a guest room, tempting you to just plop down on it and sleep for a while, when the man, Elijah you learned on the way here, enters the room again, giving you some clothes “Don’t think I have something that will fit you Kiddo, but this will do”

You try to deny it, not wanting to give him more trouble than you already have, but he insists, giving you that fatherly look that means he will not back down, so at the end you accept it and the hot drink he later brings you. You promise yourself that you will rest for a bit and wake up tomorrow so you can help out and try to give back some of the kindness he is showing you.

20 minutes in and you are absolutely knocked out, Elijah enters your room to ask you if you need anything else but when he sees you he smiles, turning off the light and covering you with the blankets. You really can’t take care of yourself on your own huh?

-------------* . ` ✧*˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♤  ꒱ ˎˊ˗  * ✧`.  *------

[one-sunny]

Cabin by the Lake | Bonfire

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader, Modern AU

04- When Luffy’s birthday turns into a group get away to a small cabin by a lake, you cannot deny his own brothers an invitation. Surely the week long get away would leave a lasting impression with his eldest sibling.

notes: sorry to yall that don’t know card games bc they keep coming up and i for some reason know a ton. also, fun fact, s’mores and marshmallow toastiness is a weirdly controversial subject in my family.

Monday: Bonfire

Loud music flows from the kitchen and a low murmur of voices catch on the down beat. You enter the kitchen to see Ace leaning on the counter across from Sanji, the latter focused on stirring something in a white mixing bowl.

Sanji’s head snaps up from his work and a smile pulls to his lips. “Y/N, darling! How did you sleep?” He clicks the speaker lower as Ace watches him close.

“Slept okay, Nami kept me up most of the night.” You grumble, eyes narrowing at the look that crosses over Sanji’s face. “Yeah, don’t think too hard on that, got it?”

Sanji clears his throat. “Right.”

Your gaze shifts to Ace. “You helping Sanji out or just watching him work?”

“Well,” Ace tips his head to the side. “I tried helping out-“

“And he was horrible at it.” Sanji shakes his head dejectedly. At this, you’re suddenly aware of the slight burnt smell disguised by Sanji’s more aromatic cuisine. “He did wash a couple dishes though, so I do have to give him some credit there.”

“Yeah,” Ace sighs lowly. “So now i’m just here for moral support.” He laughs to himself, tapping his fingers against the counter to the beat of the song. “Oh, and to play DJ.”

“Well do you need some real help, Sanji?”

Sanji seems taken aback by this, “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” His gaze softens as he looks over at you, but you simply shrug.

“I’ve got nothing important to do.”

He quickly abandons his task to collect another cutting board, placing you at the other side of the kitchen island, a bright smile on his face. A bag of tomatoes and bell peppers are then placed near by. Lastly, a sharp kitchen knife is placed delicately atop the board. “You can dice them all up, if you’d like.” Sanji then pauses. “You know how to do that, right?”

You scoff a laugh, “It’s pretty straight forward.”

Heat rises to Sanji’s cheeks in the form of a blush and he quickly shakes his head. “I’m not doubting you in any way, mon amor, but it seems like some people don’t understand simple tasks in the kitchen.” His eyes turn to Ace who is already glaring at him. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t need me to show you.”

“I’ve got it, Sanji.” You chuckle as you open the bag, a playful smile on your lips. The general store offered more than fresh produce, the tomato juice seeping onto the chopping board and filling your senses. The song switches as Ace turns the speaker back up and you immediately recognize it as what you had played on the car ride. You glance up at Ace but his focus is trained on his phone as he queues up something else.

You go about the rather simple task, enjoying the repetitious nature of it.

“Uh, Y/N.” Sanji leans a hip up against the counter beside of you as he looks over your work. “You, uh, you’re holding the knife wrong.”

Your motions cease as you stare down at your hand in confusion, wrist tilting. “What am I doing wrong?” You prompt. Sanji smiles as he moves a little bit closer.

“Your finger, you shouldn’t rest it on top of the blade. Less control and you could end up cutting yourself.” He gestures to your index finger that is extended over the steel.

“That hasn’t happened so far.”

“Well, yeah, but it could.” He gently takes the knife from your hand, fully in your space as he grips the knife properly in his own hand. “Do it like this instead, that way you’re being safe. Don’t want you cutting your precious fingers under my watch.” Sanji helps you in adjusting your grip before he is stepping back to his own work space.

Your nose crinkles as you look back to Sanji, “This feels weird.”

“It might right now, but you’ll get used to it.”

You hum in thought as you glance back down at your half cut tomatoes. “So, did you make it this far before Sanji demoted you to dish duty?” A playful smile is on your lips as you glance back up at Ace, only to find him staring into the empty space beside of you. “Uh, Ace?”

His head snaps over to you and he offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You better hurry it up before Luffy wakes up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave the knife in dismissal before focusing back on your task. Slice after slice, you make your way to the very end of the bag, calling out to Sanji once your work was done. It was no where near perfect and the dices were without a doubt uneven, but Sanji seems grateful anyways.

“Absolutely wonderful darling.” Sanji grins as he collects the cutting board from you, sweeping the diced vegetables into a pot on the stove.

You hear a scoff over the running water.

“What? Think you could do better.” You grin, crossing over to Ace’s side where he is scrubbing a bowl full of suds. His focus is solely on the task at hand as you bump his hip.

“Tch, probably not.” He mutters.

Your brows pull together at the frown on his lips. “Hey, you okay?” You lean in close enough to graze his elbow as he rinses the bowl.

This seems to snap him to and Ace straightens. “What? Yeah, i’m all good.” A smile pulls to his lips as he finally focuses on you. “We all have our strong suits and mine clearly includes dishes.” He raises a finger to wipe soap suds on your nose before you can stop him.

As you blow out a laugh, the bubbles fly off your face and land unceremoniously back into the water. This causes you and Ace to break into your own fit of giggles. The warmth seems to fill back into his cheeks and his shoulders ease.

You settle in with the two as Sanji works in an easy flow and Ace occasionally pops over to the sink to scrub the dishes. Music flows between the conversations and the room seems entirely at ease. But nothing that serene could ever last long,

“Sanjiiiiii! Is breakfast done yet?” Luffy’s loud voice carries down the stairs as he walks into the kitchen. A frown falls on his face to see Sanji standing over a sizzling pan.

“I’m finishing up.”

“Blame Ace.” You grin at the man as Luffy turns his pouting to his brother.

“Y/N!” Ace groans as Luffy practically rockets himself over to pester his brother. A light hearted argument sparks between the two, which results in Luffy snatching up Ace’s phone to switch the music.

The others begin to flood into the kitchen with an ease in the air. After the thousand mile hike- or so it seemed- everyone decided that today was the best time for a rest day. To truly enjoy your vacation and not pack it full of activities. To just chill out for once.

“Breakfast is ready.” Sanji calls out, mostly in effort to shut Luffy up. “Y/N helped, so everyone make sure to thank her today.” He beams at you and presents you with your plate first. A chorus of thanks soon follow as everyone eagerly awaits their meal. “Oh, and Ace i guess.” He adds as the man glares at him.

↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟

The wind blows a gentle breeze, the birds chirp in the air, and the sun cast rays of bright sunshine over the cabin. All is calm and restful…

Except for the rather intense game of Speed occurring on the porch of the cabin. You sit across from Ussop, cross legged on the wooden planks, fingers twitching in anticipation. The game was far more intense than need be as competition sparks in the air.

Cards fly into their respective positions in almost a blur as you stick true to the game name and move as quickly as possible. Then, there’s a standstill and you both stare at the two stacks of cards unmoving. “Ready?” Ussop prompts, hand placing on one of the small stacks that remains face down. You nod as you grab the other, flipping your cards at the same time.

Ussop gasps as he slaps his final card on the pile and you nearly fall back with a groan.

“You’re on a losing streak today.” Ussop tuts as he collects the cards to expertly shuffle them.

“I’m not fully convinced you’re not stacking the deck.” You roll your eyes dramatically as Ussop sighs. He places the deck on the floor and makes a gesture at it. A grin pulls to your lips as you cut the deck into four separate stacks, which Ussop collects with an equally as dramatic eye roll, before passing them out.

He sets the two small decks up for the game as you collect your own cards, face steeling as you try to focus in on the task at hand. Ussop glances up at you in a silent question and you both flip a card. You’re moving fast. Faster than Ussop, much to your delight. Your own deck of cards is dwindling and you’re about to win.

That’s when the door flies open behind you and almost smacks in to you. You yelp out in surprise, dropping a couple of your cards in the process, and watching as Ussop slams down his final card triumphantly. He throws his arms up in the air to gloat in your face.

“No!” You groan, looking towards whoever almost knocked you out and lost you the game.

“Oh! Sorry bro.” Franky has an easy grin as you glare up at him from your spot on the ground.

“I almost won!”

“You’re never gonna win, Y/N.” Sabo pops out the open door with a laugh. “Your friends have a serious cheating problem, i’m sure of it.”

A smile pulls to your lips as Ussop places a hand to his chest in offense. “I think Sabo’s onto something.” You give a decisive nod.

“Awh, don’t be a sore loser, doll.” Ace follows the two men out the door, a teasing grin on his face.

“I am not!” You pout.

Ace stops before the steps to look down at you, bottom lip poking out to match your pout. His mocking pout soon turns into a grin at the glare you’re sending him. “C’mon. We’re gonna have a bonfire, you two wanna help set up?”

“Sounds good to me.” Ussop stands, dusting off his hands, before following after the other two men. “Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the woods and had to build a giant bonfire just to keep the rabid wolves away from me.” His voices carries off with him as Franky and Sabo laugh at the man’s wild story.

Ace watches as you collect the playing cards left lying carelessly around, shoving them back into their box. Once they’re all packed away, Ace offers a hand out to you with a smile on his face. You take the offer and he easily pulls you to your feet, hand lingering in yours for just a moment as he guides you down the stairs.

Heat fills your cheeks at such a casual action.

At the sound of the front door slamming open, Ace gives a gentle squeeze to your hand, before dropping it. You clear your throat, “So what exactly are we setting up?”

“A bonfire.” Ace grins at the obvious answer.

“Well yeah.” You roll your eyes.

“Setting up the deck chairs and getting the fire started” Ace bumps his shoulder against yours as you approach the rock built fire pit. “There’s enough wood to get it going, but the others went to grab some from the woods to feed it.”

You hum, “So what do you need me to do?”

“You can help me get the fire started.”

“Alright. Are we rubbing two sticks together or what?” You smirk as Ace pulls back a tarp to observe the small case of fire wood.

“While I would love to see you try that one out,” He turns, tugging a golden zippo from his pocket. “We live in a modern age, doll.”

“Ah, okay. The easy way out.” You nod as the man laughs.

“Ever done this before?” Ace prompts. You shake your head with a skeptical look- weren’t you just setting some logs on fire?- before he is beckoning you to his side. “Let me teach you.” Your feet move faster than your mind and you’re suddenly crouching down beside of Ace. He guides you through utilizing timber and kindling to spark up a fire, as well as building a teepee with the wood in order to make the fire last. Then he hands you the lighter and instructs you to spark it up.

You flick the lighter, only for it to quickly be extinguished by a gust of wind. Trying again has the same results.

Before you can complain, Ace’s warm hands cup around yours, a jolt shooting down your spine at the unexpected contact. “Try again, just gotta block the wind so we can start it up.” He seems nonchalant as ever as he prompts you to strike the lighter. This time you’re successful and a fiery warmth spreads through your fingertips as the timber catches. “Good job, doll.” The praise makes heat creep up your neck despite how little you truly did.

The flames spread to the kindling and eventually the fire burns bright.

“Awh, nice bros!” Franky booms as the group returns with a heafty stack of fire wood. “We can make some proper s’mores in this thing.”

Franky runs inside to gather the others and soon returns with a pink guitar to truly set the mood. The group settle into the deck chairs around the fire as Franky begins tuning, plucking the strings delicately, until he is able to strum in-tune.

He begins to strum a familiar series of notes and Luffy is quick to jump in on leading the group through an only slightly off key melody. An ease falls about everyone. Laughter soon flows as Franky, Ussop, and Luffy go about making up their own songs on the spot.

Eventually, the idea of s’mores is brought back up and Sanji prepares the three components on a platter for easy access. Luffy is the first to grab a marshmallow, stabbing it onto a metal stick, and shoving it right into the middle of the flames. It soon catches fire and he quickly pulls it out, watching as a dark coating covers the sugary surface.

“Blow it out!” Nami snaps at him as he attempts to wave it in the air. “You’ve already ruined it by catching it on fire.”

Luffy huffs a breath and the marshmallow dies out. “Nuh uh.” He shoves the crispy marshmallow directly into his mouth, huffing out breaths to attempt cooling his mouth down. “Perfect.”

Nami sticks her tongue out as she readies her own marshmallow. She holds it barely over the fire, “A perfect marshmallow is always a nice golden brown.” As she declares this, Robins marshmallow catches on fire and she swiftly blows it out. “Not you too.”

“You should try it.” Robin chuckles as she goes about preparing her snack.

Nami simply rolls her eyes as she takes her perfectly golden brown marshmallow to make her own s’more.

The group runs through a good chunk of the s’mores ingredients, before everyone is lounging back in their seats. Night has fallen and everyone’s faces are lit in an orange glow. Ace takes it upon himself to properly feed the flames, and you have to give him credit for the strong fire that certainly was lasting.

Ussop leans forwards in his seat as he tells a ghost story, movements exaggerated, and voice a bit pitched at the scary parts.

Staring into the flames with an easy smile, mesmerized by the flickers of light, you allow the stories being shared to be the only thought on your mind. You then start to feel eyes on you, before Ace bumps his knee against yours from his seat beside of you. Pulling your eyes away to look at him was strangely difficult at the trance you were in, but you were thankful for the break at the sight of the flames flickering in his warm eyes. You consider for a moment how captivating he truly was, before soon shaking the thought away. It was nothing.

“You okay?” He prompts, voice low to not alert any of the others.

“I’m great.” You smile at him.

Ace finds himself easily mirroring the expression, your eyes locked together for a long moment. His hand twitches at his side, until he eventually drums his fingers along the arm rest and forces his eyes away. You watch him for a moment longer, ready to ask him the same question, before his eyes flicker back to you. He raises his eyebrows with a teasing smile on his lips, and you somehow know exactly what he’s conveying in that look, teasing you for staring at him without even speaking it.

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at him and he laughs. The thought lingers in the back of your mind, a silent question that you refuse to acknowledge in the moment of exactly when you started being able to communicate with him through a simple look.

Franky begins to play again and is seems as if the gentle strumming is enough to lull some into sleep. Luffy yawns loudly, Zoro almost dozing off in his seat, and Nami snuggles up close to the blanket wrapped around her body. She is the first to declare that it was time for bed, and the rest soon trickle in after her, one by one.

Until you’re eventually alone with Ace.

No words pass between you, there doesn’t truly need to be, a comfort settling in the air. You both watch an ember shoot out and die quickly against the stone pit. The night air remains windy and you feel a shiver shoot though you.

His knee bumps into yours once again and you find yourself leaning into the simple touch at how warm his skin is. “Get closer to the fire.” He nods towards the flames of your hard work. “Winds cold.” You quickly shake your head and Ace narrows his eyes. “Suit yourself.” He huffs out before he’s standing, holding his hands to the fire in effort to warm his fingers.

The space his leg was once touching quickly turns ice cold.

You slowly stand to join his side, mimicking his hands and trying to ignore the look he gives you. As if he knew you would only come if he got up first. Yet he doesn’t speak on it. Standing side by side, warming yourselves by the fire, and letting the crackling flames be the only sound between you.

The fire is soon dying out, bright flames reduced to muddied flickers that try to catch onto already crisped logs, and you find yourself drifting closer to Ace in effort to seek out some warmth. Your arm touches his, a warm contrast against the night air, and your hand grazes past his. Ace continues to watch the flames but you feel his pinky graze over yours, a hesitant touch, before linking with yours.

You silently curse yourself as your heart begins to pound at such a simple action.

Ace finally turns to look at you, eyes half lidded and lips parted. You’re almost certain you’re offering the same look. He shifts a little bit closer to you and takes a breath, as if wanting to say something, but he stops himself. Ace turns to watch the trail of smoke emitting from the dying flame. “I should probably go to bed.”

“Why?” You find yourself asking, not wanting the moment to end so soon.

He takes in a deep breath before leveling you with his eyes. “Might do something stupid if I don’t.” His voice is barely a whisper as he gauges your reaction.

Anticipation buzzes at your skin and warms you better than the fire could ever. Your lips part to speak but the words catch in your throat. You want to protest. To tell him to stay. That part of you needs him here to explore this moment. Something. Instead you stare back at him with brows furrowed.

Teeth graze over his bottom lip before he tips his head towards the cabin. “C’mon, it’s gettin’ cold out. Let’s both go to bed.”

“Ace,” You try again to speak your protest but the words won’t form. He turns to look at you expectantly. Drawing in a shaky breath, you simply smile, “Goodnight.”

“G’night doll.”

Series Masterlist

tag list: @flooofity @certain-tragedies @zzzzzoey @stuckinmymind22 @kanekisheart @lxpofthegods @weirdothatreads

(if you wanna be added to the tag list, just let me know! and if you’ve asked and i missed you, just yell at me and i’ll make sure to put you on there next time)

[melwsnt]

────── ⋆⋅☆DEAR GHOST, DEAN WINCHESTER

summary. Dean’s death left a stain on your life.

word count. 749

this basically talks about grief so if you think that’ll affect you, you don’t have to read it!🫶🏼 I did cry while writing this.. please interact<3

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Dean’s absence felt like all the stars fell from the sky and then the world had no meaning without him in it.

Dean’s absence made you feel like, for once, death wasn’t so scary. It meant you could reunite with him- maybe soon, maybe not, but you’d see him again, you fully believed that.

You couldn’t touch baby for a while. Sitting in the driver’s seat made you feel like you belonged anywhere but there. Sam helped- and the first time you sat in that seat- you knew Dean was right beside you, probably making a joke about you being the only person allowed to drive baby.

You felt him- it’s like he was right there. You could hear his voice singing over the cassette you played that he loved so much.

Your body went cold and your arms covered themselves in chills.

Dean would make fun of you if he saw you right now. Looking so miserable over him. That’s what makes you sad. It’s knowing- that even in death he would think so little of himself- like he’s not a loss.

Except he is. He is a loss to you, to his little brother, to every single person he’s helped in his life, even though they don’t know that he’s gone.

He’s a loss to the world. The world was a safest place with Dean. Now it’s only half of it that’s safe, because half of the Winchesters is gone.

You know the drill, you’ve lost too many people already, but this loss feels different.

On the drive, you laugh. And then you start crying. Hating Dean was easy- but loving him was probably the worst thing of all. Because loving him meant worrying about when his or your last day would be. What last words you’d say to each other, what thing you could do or say to prevent it from happening.

You can’t prevent death, especially when hunting. You couldn’t prevent Dean from dying, and it doesn’t matter that his last words to you were I love you. What matters is that you felt his heart stop, saw his eyes close, his body go limp, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

You knew the vision would haunt both you and Sam forever, so you couldn’t prevent that either.

What you could do, was talk to Dean, because you knew he’d listen.

You’re not sure where you’re driving, it doesn’t matter what direction you go in, Dean would follow you to the ends of the world.

Even if you don’t see him, you can tell he’s waiting for you to say something. You can see him waiting, drumming his fingers on his leg, looking at you like you’re the only good thing left in this world besides his brother.

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ You whisper under your breath.

‘Okay, so. Updates? Sam’s doing well, you can probably see that. He’s found someone, I think that’s gonna work out, he deserves it. We share baby, I’m sure you’d hate that.’ You laugh and take a deep breath.

‘I’m here talking to a ghost, so maybe I’m insane. I just- I need to know if you’re here, Dean. Give me a sign, anything. I just need to know that I’m not crazy.’

Then the cassette stops working.

A new song starts playing,this time on the radio and your heart stops.

It’s your song. You and dean’s. The song you’d belt on every car ride together. The song Dean once said made him realize how in love he was with you.

‘Thank you.’ You whisper again, a hand over your heart, because you know that he’ll hear it.

You’re sure Dean is smiling in the passenger seat, maybe has tears in his eyes.

Because you do. You wipe your nose, you cry, and you laugh. Because if you are going insane- you still can’t explain that.

Dean is definitely here. You feel weight on your arm, something is squeezing it. He is- as to tell you everything is going to be okay. Because even though he’s not here anymore, he still is, with you. And he’ll never leave- at least not until you join him.

Maybe that was the cruel plan the universe had for you two- but even in death, Dean was still here- wouldn’t leave your side, still loving you- so much you could still feel it.

Because he’s still Dean Winchester- even if he’s not part of this world anymore.