#jeep wrangler Seats

[venkateshwheelsbingo]

Jeep Wrangler Facelift: New Interior & Exterior Features

Sleek Engine:- 

The Indian model of Wrangler is an India-spec pre-facelift Jeep Wrangler that comes with a 2.0-litre turbo-petrol 270hp and 400 Nm which is mated to an 8-speed torque converter automatic and its Selec-Trac full-time 4WD system. Wrangler upgrade, as a part of the new range of vehicles, will keep up with the previous option of this powertrain, which was sold in India.

Great Highlights 

The Wrangler facelift is equipped with an all-black grille, that is now slimmer than before and still bearing a 7-slot design. All over the world, Jeep Wrangler is produced with as many as ten different alloy designs that range from 17 to 20 inches with the tyre sizes going up to 35 inches.

For more information visit our website wheelsbingo.

[bsautosuppliess]

Find the Best Seat Covers for Your 2011 Jeep Wrangler Sahara Near Me

If you're searching for seat covers for 2011 Jeep Wrangler Sahara near me, you're in the right place! Protecting your car’s interior is essential, especially for a rugged vehicle like the Jeep Wrangler. Whether you're looking to keep your seats in top condition or enhance their comfort, there are many options to choose from.

When searching for best car seat covers near me, consider durability, material, and style. Options like neoprene, leather, and custom-fit covers are perfect for the adventurous lifestyle of a Jeep Wrangler owner. Not only do these covers add an extra layer of protection, but they also help maintain your seats against spills, dirt, and wear.

For the perfect fit, it's best to shop locally. A quick search for "seat cover jeep wrangler near me" will lead you to a variety of stores offering high-quality, tailored options. Local retailers can provide expert advice and immediate availability, ensuring you get the perfect cover for your vehicle.

[ask-bloodynhatred]

Best Car Seat for Jeep Wrangler

Best Car Seats For Jeep Wranglers: Compact & Safe! When it comes to transporting your child in your Jeep Wrangler, ensuring their safety is of utmost importance. With the compact size of the Wrangler, finding a car seat that fits properly and offers the necessary safety features can be a challenge. Fortunately, car seat manufacturers have recognized this issue and have designed car seats…

[mo0nfairy]

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

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

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 12.3k.

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, gender neutral reader, smut (not involving reader), murder, death, violence/gore, suic1dal tendencies, suic1de attempt, alcoholism, weaponry, panic attacks, ptsd, hallucinations, & sleep paralysis.

leon kennedy's yandere traits are . . .

clingy, heroic, & territorial

──── Leon Kennedy hates sunlight in his eyes. Yet still, he finds himself basking in the warm rays.

When the sun hits the window just right, ensnaring the room in its golden hues, he bathes in its light the same way he'd lay in a hot bath. The lulling warmth melts his muscles and eases his body. After he falls asleep in the office after another unsuccessful investigation, your sunset is there for him. When he passes out after a drunken night at the bar, your sunrise is there for him. You're looking down at him always, embracing him in splotches of sunlight.

For a while, Leon thought he knew what it meant to be alive. To touch the hands of guttural pain; to feel the jagged juts of his past nestle against him. But, after that horrid night six years ago, after the exposure to sunshine he did not know existed, he truly touched the scorching surface of rock bottom.

And it is killing him. All because of a singular person.

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

Leon remembers your exuberant eyes, your adorable mannerisms, the glimmer of your smile; he will never forget how you sparked the beginning of his life in Raccoon City.

He remembers the orange lights had swayed in his vision. How everything was stuck in a blistering sea of vertigo. Listening to the fire crackle and creatures groan, Leon coughs from the tickle caught in his throat. There is a weight pressed to his chest, something akin to a cushion. White. Artificial fabrics, a plastic touch. An airbag, maybe?

September 28th of 1998. The memories all return to him like a violent supercut. The yell of his name, the squeal of the brakes, the collision afterward. His precious Jeep Wrangler had now been flipped upside down and he was now caught in the savagery of the aftermath. The blood rushing to his head has the world swirling around him, lulling him into another state of unconsciousness. Leon touches the passenger seat with his red hands, terror ensnaring him upon realizing the seat was empty.

Something blurry in his trail of vision grips his attention. Through the shattered window, a figure stumbles through the brume of the flickering streetlights. Blue glares frame the dirt-stained "R.P.D" sign and the figure hastens towards its doors.

A whimper of your name is stuck on his tongue, as words get trapped in his congested throat. Don't leave me. In Leon's efforts to escape, his foot gets caught on the gear shift. He pulls with all his might, despite the twists and strains his ankle endures. Y/N, please don't. Shards of glass fall from his hair as he wrestles his way out. A few pieces manage to leave shallow nicks against his flesh. Come back to me.

Leon then plummets to the wet pavement, finally free of his demolished car. Frivolous debris and fresh corpses litter his path. His newly-purchased white sneakers (which he bought solely to show off to you) are splattered in the disgusting matter. Stumbling, he is able to persevere through all of this and he quickly trudges through the wreckage.

Leon barrels through the doors of the R.P.D. and surges through the police department. Bullets pierce through the skulls of pedestrians and coworkers roaming the building. Blood paints his body like rainfall. All while he is searching for the face that will end the torment reigning havoc through his mind.

The holding cells are inspected thoroughly while Leon's disposition is one of acute desperation. The adjacent areas are consumed with infected prisoners, all of which he promptly executes. Much to his dismay, however, the rookie does not find you sitting at a bench or clinging to the rusted bars. It is all empty, leading him to become more frantic in his search for you.

Something navy blue then captures his attention. Left on the floor of a cell is a name tag. Something small and wet with blood.

Leon takes the object into his fingers. His heart wrenches when he reads the name stamped on the plastic. The familiar "Mizoil Gas Station" is printed above "Y/N L/N".

A gasp fills the empty silence. Y/N... Where did you go? Why did you leave me?

"Hey.”

He jerks around to the intruding voice.

"Who is that?"

"Stay sharp."

Behind him is a rotting face with dead, paper-white eyes staring right through him. The zombie towers over him, growling for a bite. Leon yanks Matilda from his holster. The action is swift. Adept. Exactly the way he was trained. The echo of a gunshot permeates through the large expanse and fuses with the squelching sounds of brain matter oozing from the zombies' open skull. The corpse falls to the grimy floors with a thud and once more, silence returns.

The click of stiletto heels treads closer to Leon. On the threshold of the prison cell, a woman walks into his train of vision.

Ada Wong.

Finally, a human! Leon thinks to himself. He is quick to take advantage of the company of a normal, uninfected person. The pestering questions he has all tumble out out his mouth like an avalanche of blabbering nonsense.

"Please, you have to help me! I-I'm looking for someone!"

Her lack of articulation urges Leon to continue.

"My name is Leon Kennedy."

He takes a breath before continuing.

"The person I'm looking for- they, um- they're about... this tall." He holds his flat hand up to demonstrate your height. "Their eyes are Y/E/C. Well, maybe not like an exact shade of Y/E/C. It's more like a softer, prettier-"

She scoffs, cutting him off from his incessant rambling. Turning her heel, Ada begins to walk away from the pathetic mess she stumbled upon.

"Wait! Their name is Y/N!”

The woman halts.

“Y/N L/N! Please, you have to help me find them!"

Body tense, her eyes peer at him through the dark barrier of her sunglasses. Her arms weaken, once sternly folded over her beige trench coat.

"They're my partner... Please..."

Ada's lips part. From them, a sharp inhale.

Leon begs her with desperate worry, encompassed in a vehement frame of mind. His plead is spoken with such clarity, Ada can only assume it as truth. And the prospect of you belonging to someone else cuts like a dull knife. It is gross, it is nauseating. Unnatural. Like worms slithering around in her stomach, trying to escape the heart-shattering effect this information has on her.

Then, there is the anger. The betrayal is like a song too loud, the resentment like sheer alcohol on her tongue. Everything manifests into a spirit so overwhelming that Ada cannot find air to breathe. This blanket of rage stirs with her sorrow like two conflicting chemicals. The reaction sparks something iniquitous.

So, in turn, she does what she does best.

Lie.

"Y/N is dead."

A silence settles in the room.

Leon stares. That is all he does.

He stares at Ada and tries to scrutinize her to find some other truth. Anything other than this.

"Ambushed. No possible way of getting them out of that mess..."

Ada speaks with defective emotion. The words land mercilessly and hit with ruthless force.

A harsh ringing noise permeates around Leon. He covers his ears, blunt nails digging into his scalp. He shakes his head no, as though he merely disagrees with fact. It's not true. It can't be! Losing grasp on the only good thing in his life is something he will not accept. He refuses to.

You are his sun. What is existence without its warmth? What will happen to Earth without its necessity?

How can he possibly survive without you?

Ada rolls her eyes at the dramatic scene now playing out at her hand. She ignores her own hypocrisy, of course. If she had learned of your demise, only God knows what blood-curdling reaction she would have. When it comes to Leon, however, every blink of his eye and twitch of his muscle has her riddled with irritation. Does he not know how lucky he is? Ada would endure any pain if she knew she had the comfort of calling you her lover. It is a dream she would kill to make reality.

Leon soon collapses to the floor. A shot of pain courses through his knees from landing harshly on the cement. His hand clutches over his heart, absolutely gutted by the torment forced upon the organ.

Ada then leaves this lie where she puts it down. She struts out of the prison cell, thus continuing her search for wherever in Raccoon City you may be.

You do not need a boyfriend. Especially one as pathetic as Leon Kennedy.

The man in question has been rendered into a puddle of blubbering nonsense. Questions still fill the silent air. How, when, why? Why did it have to be you? The one person on this disgusting planet who did not deserve it. Why couldn't you have just stayed with him and let him devote his life to protecting the precious gem of your life? Why? Why? Why?

Leon has already lost so much, you were the very last thing keeping him afloat. You are his life preserver in the middle of the ocean. He has now succumbed to the thrashing waves, as he was always destined to be swallowed by the sea. Saltwater permeates his lungs and his limp body sways with the lulling current. As though this is what his life was always meant to be: crawling after happiness just to have it yanked away when he gets too close. In the end, his sugar-sweet delusions will always sink down to the ocean floor.

Tears do not escape Leon, no matter the weight of the pain. He does not care for anything but you. Now that you have left him, nothing else matters. Therefore, no emotion can be elicited from him anymore. He has been touched so violently by this intensity, it eradicated any surviving nerves.

His handgun had been left on the ground, a few feet away from him. Assumably falling from his grasp after his knees gave out. He takes the weapon and it shivers in his trembling grasp. It's blurry in his gaze, as his entire vision is overwhelmed with stupor. Should he? God knows he wants to. What is there left to experience in life without you there with him?

As he guides the barrel of his gun to his temple, the static ringing in his ears accelerates in volume. Somehow, though, Leon does not feel fear. He does not feel anything. No dread, no despair — just sheer, hollow nothingness. It infuses his entire body like a roaming virus, ensuring it does not leave any traceable fragments of emotion.

A quivering finger hovers over the trigger. One pull and he will be free.

Leon presses his finger down.

Click.

Nothing.

Click. Click. Click.

Nothing happens.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

"FUCK!"

Leon chucks the gun to the ground. His yell comes out guttural, a touch away from being a growl.

The clatter of Matilda's impact is not enough to appease him, as this swamped nothingness is more than he can endure. In a fit of defeat, Leon balls his fists and punches the cement floor. Agony surges through his entire hand and blood smudges his knuckles. The sound of his bones cracking still does not satisfy him in the slightest. Nothing can aid him now. Absolutely nothing.

With heavy legs, Leon stands to his feet. He holds his broken fist close to his chest and limps out of the empty prison cell. As he meanders through the station, he finds a set of car keys to a police cruiser on the corpse of his former co-worker. Despite claiming the title of "hero" when he first earned his badge, he does not intend to help anyone tonight. He couldn't save the only thing he ever loved, what kind of hero fails to do that?

The screaming of pedestrians and desperate pleas for help fall on deaf ears. The vehicle's engine rumbles and Leon's dead eyes stare at the road ahead. He leaves Raccoon City forever in his dust.

Six years have passed since the night you were taken from him. Leon wants to die, that much is for certain. The only thing preventing him from giving in is the fact that people need him. They all fail to see that he needs you, as he always will. Besides, he’s got some last few words he wishes to tell Umbrella before he bids this life farewell.

This is his life now. And in a morbid way, he thinks it is romantic. He read somewhere that if a swan dies, their surviving mate will fly into the sky and let themselves plummet to their death. Is that you and him? Should he put the final puzzle piece in your happily-ever-after and end it all? When the sun shines through the window and he wakes up without you again, however, Leon cannot romanticize the empty shell he is trapped within. He is desperate to know why you couldn't have taken his body with you on your way to heaven. Why death couldn’t have brought him eternal peace the very second you passed.

These several years have been spent drowning in alcohol. Leon has no preference for whatever booze he consumes, either. Anything that will make him forget it all will do the trick. At the bar with concerned bartenders or in his almost-empty liquor cabinet at home — he’ll take whatever he can get his hands on.

All his nights are now spent beneath the golden lights of the local bar. Dawn is spent crying on the kitchen floor with a queasy stomach. His days are all the same, too. Saving the lives of helpless citizens, he never forgets how the glimmer of gratitude in their eyes should have been yours.

This night in particular was no different. Leon has nearly drunk the entire bar's alcohol supply in hours. He imbibes a glass of whiskey and cringes at the cheap taste. Too sweet. Poorly made. He does not mind this, however, as anything that can ease the pain is satisfactory enough. And just like any other night, Leon is thinking of you. He watches the ice cubes dance in the cup, arms lazily resting on the sticky countertop. If only things were different, then he wouldn't have to be in this shit-hole right now. He could spend all his nights with you, instead. God, he misses you.

"You look lonely."

Leon didn't have to look up from his glass to know what was happening. At a place like this, it was inevitable.

He never took to heart whenever his coworkers teased him with names such as "pretty boy" or "Leonardo DiCaprio." It seemed to be a "chick magnet," as they so called it. So, when another stranger approaches him with that familiar glint in their eye, he knows what they want from him.

"I can fix that."

Leon looks to where the woman is sitting beside him. Like he does with every courting, he searches her for any remnants of you. If he were honest with himself, these people served as a good distraction. Enough bottles and he can delude his fuzzy brain into believing it was you standing beside him instead of another stranger.

The sight is blurred from his intoxicated state, but his judgment is clear as day. Her face shape and height contrast from yours. She is an inch or two shorter. Her smirk is sensual, not as toothy and adorable as your vivacious smile. Her body is entirely different, as well. Too bony, with wonky proportions that were nothing like you. The only similarity was her eye color. Your exuberant shimmer was missing, but the collection of hues shared puny similarities.

Eh. Good enough.

"Daddy! S-So big- fuck!"

The blaring sounds of heavy rock playing outside the motel room do not ease the headache Leon has, nor does the vociferous calamity of this woman. She doesn't sound anything like you. Too submissive, too goddamn insufferable. In his head, he can only imagine the dulcet sounds he could pull from your pretty lips. This woman was ruining that heavenly fantasy.

"I told you to be fucking quiet."

He uses his strength and pins her harder against the squeaking mattress. Insufferably irritating moans are muffled upon shoving that loud mouth into the pillows. Leon squeezes his eyes shut and puts all attention to the image he has painted in his mind.

You'd be different, much different. He can only imagine you beneath him like this. Harsh demands formed from your dulcet voice, commanding his every move and action. Telling your puppy dog to make you feel good with the promise of a reward — the thought alone never fails to send a shiver through his body. Leon is sure your golden voice praising him is all he needs to die happy.

"Fuck, 's too much. Daddy-"

The reverie shatters as quickly as it was formed. His calloused hands find the woman's hair and he forces her further into the pillows. She is not opposed to being treated roughly in the sheets, discernible in the way her moans and mindless babbles increase in volume.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

Leon would be different, too. Much softer than this. He would handle every inch of your skin like he's unmasking an archeological masterpiece. God, he couldn't treat you roughly even if he wanted to. Ruin every orgasm of his, leave his body littered with bruises and scratches. He would be a slave to your every whim, as pain at your hand would bring him bliss like no other. And in return, Leon would still touch your body with the same glass-like softness he is only ever capable of treating you with.

He buries his face into the stranger's shoulder and inhales the scent of their perfume. It is nauseating and nothing like you. Artificially sweet and too strong. Leon desperately fills the plot holes in his fantasy and imagines you dolling yourself up for him. Maybe after a tireless day at work, he would arrive home to you greeting him with a surprise. Where you got all dressed up for his eyes only and allowed him to indulge in your body again and again and again and again.

He can only imagine the look in your eyes when you call him your puppy, your husband, your good boy.

The thought sends him over the edge.

It is not a euphoric unfolding. It is sharp. Gross and weak. It is merely something to help him get by, even just barely. At least tonight Leon was able to finish inside a warm body instead of the plastic toy he keeps in his bedside drawer.

He doesn't even remember the name of this stranger. However, that doesn't matter when loud whines of your name jump out of his throat instead. The word tumbles from his mouth as though if he spoke it enough, you would materialize into this bed with him.

The unsatisfied woman does not overlook this. Another person's name shamelessly moaned by the man she thought she would have some late-night fun with, is he serious? She rolls her eyes and escapes from his sweaty hold. As she dresses herself, rehearsing how she'll tell this horror story to her friends, Leon stays on the bed. He does not try to stop her from leaving.

The afterglow is feeble, but he merely pretends it is as strong as he knows it would be with you. He wants to ensnare his body around yours and reaffirm just how deeply he loves you. He just wants to be with you again, no matter what the circumstances are. In the sheets after Earth-shattering sex with the love of his life or back in the grimy streets of Raccoon City, he will take anything if it means looking into your eyes again.

The door closes with a slam. Leon is now alone. But, then again, how could he notice? It is what the past six years have looked like, after all.

2,327 days and counting since he lost you.

If you asked him all that time ago where he thought he'd be right now, he would answer with the hope and happiness he only had then. He'd sit cozy in the little cabin in the woods you and he would occupy, he was sure of it. Summers would be spent in the sunlit lakes and Winters would be spent huddling for warmth by the fireplace. Years would pass like this. All laughter and kisses, snuggles, and healing hearts.

These fantasies haunt him like a horror-flick ghost floating around an attic, as it is what his life could have been had he not failed to protect you. He could have you in his arms this very second, but because of his God-awful driving skills, your body was left behind in the rubble of Umbrella's mistakes. It is what he devoted his entire career to now: tearing down that damned corporation. It is why he is in this motel room, to begin with, where he rots in these musty sheets and sleeps with people he can't remember the names of.

Images of you and him sharing smiles flicker through his brain and lull him. Your eyes are the last thing Leon sees before he falls asleep.

It is a light slumber. He does not dream, he is merely unconscious. When he wakes an hour later, it is like he has not slept at all. As if the short period of time passed in a sheer blink. This is what his sleeping schedule normally looks like nowadays, complemented by the heavy, storm-grey bags beneath his eyes.

The sheet draped over his waist leaves him cold. The Winter weather creeps into the room and engulfs his naked skin in goosebumps. When Leon tries to grasp more of the cheap blankets to drape himself in, he is at a loss when he finds himself unable to move. Almost as though a weight had forced him back onto the bed. He can't move even a muscle; he is wholly and utterly paralyzed.

There's a soft footstep that permeates. Leon's eyes dart around the room, but there is nothing to perceive in the dark emptiness. When he tries to open his mouth and question if that woman has returned, his jaw remains locked shut.

Another footstep. He searches for anything to defend himself from whatever monster lurks in the shadows.

Then, another step. There is no doubting someone is in this room with him. He tries to regain mobility of his body, scrambling to use his fists or to find his gun.

"Leon?"

Something blooms within him. A vibrant, healthy flower persevering through the fiery ashes.

"It's me..."

Home. That is the only word Leon could use to explain your voice. Like the swirling scent of oven-fresh cookies made by his grandmother. Like the imagination in his mother's voice when she read him a bedtime story. Like the scent of freshly mowed grass when he plays outside after school. The cadence and inflection of your words bring a sense of comfort like no other. Honey-sweet in the purest form.

Through the dust-ridden curtains, the hues of streetlight seep into one corner of the room. You step into the light, midnight shadows framing your features. You're dressed in the exact clothing he last saw you wearing, in the absence of all that blood and grime from that night. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes bore into him as you step closer. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, a smile grows on your lips and robs him of all coherent function.

Leon can't but wonder if this was it, if he had died on this disgusting motel bed and you were finally taking him back into your arms. He doesn't even mind losing all sense of mobility, as long as you keep looking at him like that. Neither his face nor his body can physically react to the rush of emotion that comes with your presence, but it is more than perceptible in his eyes. Sky-gray irises drowned in oceans of fervor. Baby blues overwhelmed with shimmering, flamboyant love.

"If only you had just heard me out, then I could actually be with you right now." Your words, as heavenly as they sound, confuse Leon.

You tuck some fallen wisps of blonde hair away from his face and he swears it is real. His heart hammers like a snare drum. This is real, it must be real, it has to be.

"If only you had just looked at the damn road instead of me. Then neither of us would be in this mess, would we?"

Something shifts in your gaze. That smile he loves so much is torn away and replaced with a scowl. There is now a perceptible rage in your expression, drowned in hollow emotion that clenches his heart.

"And look at you now! Cheating on me with someone you knew for three fucking seconds!? Like everything we have means jack shit to you!"

No, no, no, no, no! It's not like that! She means nothing, she is nothing! He only used her as a placeholder for you! There isn't a single redeeming feature about her that compares to you. Jesus Christ, how could he want anyone else when you exist?

Leon tries to respond, he really does. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, how badly he wishes he could go back six years and change it all. How many hours he has spent with his hands clasped in prayer, apologizing relentlessly to the sky and hoping you'll hear him from down here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.

You stand from the bed, hands balled into fists at your side. "You're not gonna say anything? Just lay there and look at me like I'm nothing but-!"

A figure then barrels at you from the shadows. Your infuriated rant was cut short with a gut-wrenching shout when you are knocked to the ground. Saturated flesh peeking from dead skin and groans of hunger plunging from their slack mouth — a zombie had leaped from the darkness and sunk its teeth into your shoulder. Blood spouts from your wound and cascades down your body. You plead for Leon to help you, that he not leave you behind like he did all those years ago. And so desperately, Leon tries to.

A scream is locked behind his closed mouth as he tries to wrestle his way back to you. It pries and fights to escape, as though the force of his shout would be enough to convince this brainless creature to leave you be. Eyes blown wide with dizzying panic, all he can do is watch. His toned chest, sheen with sweat, rises and falls with rapid movements. Muffled whimpers of horror escape from the subtle crease of his mouth.

With every beating second your life fades away, the more Leon latches to any vigor he can grasp. His efforts to save you are overwhelmed in sheer desperation. He cannot let this happen all over again; he cannot lose you a second time. It would kill him, he is sure of it.

Something twitches in his finger. Then his foot. And for a moment, hope flickers in his mind. He can save you and atone for what he failed to do before. When the squelching sounds of flesh torn asunder fill the silence, that hope wears thin.

Like a bag of sand, Leon is able to drag his limp body across the mattress. His jaw weakens, to where sounds of despair are granted the ability to escape in roaring fervency. Off the side of the bed with the speed of a slug, he hits the ground with a harsh thud. Hauling himself onto his stomach, a verbiage of your name leaves his mouth.

He begins to crawl helplessly to where you are, only to stop in his efforts when he finds nothing. The lights from outside still seep into the room and the racket sounds of rock music still play from a room over. But, you have vanished. Leon stares at where you had fallen, scrutinizing every detail for any resemblance of you.

Misery strikes like a gunshot through his chest. Why did he fail again? Why can't he be enough, even for just once?

Why do you always leave him in the end?

He is alone again. Sat by himself on top of the soiled motel carpet and used condom he had frivolously thrown across the room. But, once again, how could he notice? It is what the past six years have looked like. And now, it is what the rest of his life will likely be encompassed in — empty solitude and hopeless dreams of you.

Leon does not sleep for the rest of the night. He is far too restless from the stressful events, terrified of watching that scene play out all over again. The digital clock on the bedside table provided minimum light, where the vibrant red numbers tick away. All he does is lie in this mess, watching the hours drift away.

A dark blue soon ensnares the sky. Birds squawk and sing. Dawn has finally arrived and so does the sun, bathing the room in its glowing orange and pink hues.

Your sunrise welcomes him, once again. The warmth and its serenity fails to placate him, though. Sitting here, he realizes how much of a fool he was to believe it was you in some form. The very second you left, you took everything warm and bright with you. You left him cold and empty and lifeless. You nestled the sun behind your resting eyes when your life faded away.

Cuddling up with you in that imaginary cabin is the only thing that can vitalize him. Two cups of steaming tea, watching the wind sway through the trees from the porch. Oh, the things Leon would take to bring this fantasy to life. To bring you back into the warmth of his arms is all he could ever need, where you will be safe and forever alive.

6:02 AM on the clock, Leon is expected at work in the following hour. Without a morsel of energy left in his feeble body, the thought of standing on this grimy floor overwhelms him with disdain.

Despite how badly he wishes to beat all scientists involved with Umbrella to a bloody pulp, he must take a course of action that abides by legal standards. To do this, Leon must work behind the scenes, ensuring every nail and screw is fastened with flawless finesse. This slow journey toward his goal of tearing Umbrella to shreds has taken a toll on him. No punching bag to take his rage out and his anger nestles itself into his body. Once Umbrella is six feet under, only then will he grant himself permission to join you and let Earth reclaim his body.

Today, Leon is now a part of the Torrents: a Capture-Force team designated to take down Umbrella's rumored return and prosecute those working for them. He has been assigned to replace someone on the team upon their suspension for "severe mental issues,” or whatever that entails. Alcohol heavy on his breath and bags beneath his eyes, Leon arrives at work for the day. He walks through the doors of a sanctuary Umbrella was confirmed to have been located at but has since fled from.

"You're late."

Leon doesn't care to look at the voice, as he already acknowledged and dismissed the vibrant "7:39 AM" on his wristwatch. They should be grateful he was even here in the first place and not rotting in bed.

"Not exactly rooting for employee of the month. Do I look the type?"

Leon's comment causes him to let out a quick huff of laughter. This new guy is much more amusing than his previous coworker, after all.

"Tyrell. Call me 'T."

He takes his hand out for Leon to shake, which he ignores. Tyrell stuffs his hand back into his pocket upon his refusal to reciprocate. An awkward silence settles between them.

"Leon. But, you knew that already."

The blonde then walks away from his new acquaintance. He can't recall the last time he had one, no less a genuine friend. The only person he put honest effort into discerning was you. Everyone else was just painfully bleak background noise stood behind your radiant aura. There is no one in the universe he wishes to befriend anymore, not when you're gone.

Leon treads through the building in search of the office organized by the team. Working behind a desk provides him his wanted rest, but taking part in the action scene provides an acute distraction. With his hands covered in blood and his fingers reeking of gunpowder, it is the most peace he can feel. Punch after punch, shots upon shots — the thought of you is eased little by little. The memory of you still lives on, but it is ephemeral moments like this where Leon can forget it all.

Several workers walk through the halls with heavy boxes marked "EVIDENCE". Others photograph imperative scenery around them, while some are busy scribbling on their notepads. Leon passes all of them without a second thought. However, two of his coworkers in particular capture his attention.

They both guide a surviving patient through the hallway. A young man holding a file in his hands and a perceptible fear in his eyes. The man then swiftly, albeit pathetically, throws himself at Leon and the file is shoved against his chest upon impact. A few of the files' contents slip from the folder and splat against the tiled floors. Hands curled around the sheepskin hems of his jacket, the man begs Leon for his help.

"Please, you have to help me! I-I'm looking for someone."

Leon's stare is harsh. Cold and empty. Any living creature would surely keel over beneath that terrifyingly vacant gaze. The man, riddled with desperation, perseveres through this fear and continues to plead.

"They're my best friend... Please..."

The guards quickly shuffle over to the scene. Their hands grip the man's shoulders, but do not apply any further pressure. They look to Leon, waiting for the demand of their superior.

And without breaking eye contact, Leon speaks.

"Get him out of my sight."

They do as told, nearly shoving the man to the ground in their efforts to escort him out of the building. The hopeless gleam in his eyes should have sparked some form of guilt within Leon. Looking into that man's eyes, however, he feels nothing. Leon instead shifts his gaze to the ground. There, right beneath his boot, the sight of something causes his heart to quicken. Swiftly taking it into his gloved hands, his breath is then yanked from his chest.

In the polaroid is no other than you.

Snow engulfs the ground and you’re dressed in a large coat that practically swallows you whole. Pine trees blanketed in the white matter surround you. With chunky mittens on, you form a heart with your hands. Snowflakes descend from the sky, a few landing on your shoulders and knitted hat. Behind you, a stack of plastic sleds. You're captured with that smile of perfection on your face, the very smile that could rival the sun.

How...? 

How did he have this? Leon could've sworn he had every picture of you...

He crosses the hallway in several large strides and finds him in mere seconds. With every sliver of strength in his body, Leon tears the man from the grasp of the guards and shoves him against the wall.

"Where did you get this!?" His voice has been reduced to a gruff timbre. A horrifying whisper.

Gesturing at the Polaroid, the man looks at him in bewilderment.

"W-What are you talking about-?"

Leon's forearm pushes against the base of his throat, pressing harder and arousing choked gasps from his throat.

"I won't ask you again..."

"Me! Me, I-I took it! I took the picture!" The man, wide-eyed and terrified, desperately exclaims the truth. However, his answer seemed to be the exact opposite of what his interrogator wished for.

Calloused hands clasped around his collar, Leon pulls the man back before shoving him back into the wall. A blood-curdling crack, then a grunt pervades the air. The unmistakable scent of iron diffuses from the man's skull, inevitable from the force of the hit. Leon practically snarls through his heavy breaths.

"When!? When'd you take this fucking picture!?"

The man slurs out his answer, now rendered delirious from the strike his head endured.

"Jan... January... La-Last January..."

The world then shatters around Leon.

The tumultuous clamor of everything falling apart before his eyes robs him of any coherent, proper function. These past six years play out like another nightmare. Every sip of alcohol, every aimless nightmare, every mediocre hookup — it all crumbles and joins the rubble of the destruction.

This whole time... This whole time you...

His vision blurs as the revelation settles, swimming through a void of vertigo and devastation. A sharp ringing permeates around him. It complements the sound of his hyperventilating breaths and hammering heartbeat. The firm grasp he once held on the man weakens, to where he scrambles away from Leon and his violent antics.

This whole time you were... 

Alive...?

Leon turns his feet and stumbles away. Sweat seeps down his face and then his neck, staining the musk-stained clothes he had not washed in weeks. The sheer luminosity of the white lights, white walls, and white floors do not aid him in his attempts to soothe his sorrows. There's a sudden tightness in his chest. Leon brings his hand up to the painful ache, falling in his efforts to mend his affliction, once again.

"Are you alright, sir?"

The new voice could easily be spoken from miles away. Vanished and impossible to discern. Leon tries to clutch the walls to maintain his stability, but this inevitably fails him, as the shock derived from this epiphany sends his weak body to the unforgiving ground.

"I'm dying..."

He can hardly recognize his own voice. It is now a higher, fearful pitch than he is used to. The other person speaks once more, but he cannot perceive what was said. Their words are merely a quiet boat in a thrashing ocean.

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe."

This feeling of realization bubbles in his chest and infiltrates every inch of his form. His chest is overwhelmed with panicked breaths. Up and down, up and down. The stranger then sprints away from Leon. Their shouts for a doctor are distorted, now an echo Leon cannot discern.

Voices from his past speak to him from all directions. As though the very walls surrounding him were taunting him. Mocking every failure of his.

"Leon- LEON-!!"

"And look at you now! Cheating on me with someone you knew for three fucking seconds!?"

"I wanted to. I wanted to kill him."

"Ambushed. No possible way of getting them out of that mess..."

"If only you had just looked at the damn road instead of me."

His world has been torn to paper-thin shreds. Then, it all goes dark. Leon is left alone and unconscious in this vast abyss of nothingness.

Tyrell sighs in frustration. He wonders why this team has such a knack for hiring people with "severe mental issues".

A harsh cut to reality is what Leon was next met with. Inside this shoebox-sized hospital room, ragged belts are restrained around his limbs. Doctors rush in and out of the blinding-white room. A myriad of drugs course in his system, intended to ease the rampant panic pumping through his body. The aftermath of his panic attack was fresh, yet still, all Leon could think about was you.

How you, his sunshine, his sweet baby, have been alive all this time.

Leon thrashes and fights against his restraints, as though you were just outside the door, waiting for him to come scoop you in his arms and close the distance between you at once. For the umpteenth time, several nurses race into the room and sedate him. Again, he is forced into another fit of unconsciousness. This routine will go on to repeat numerous times. Knowing you are out there somewhere, alone, makes for a man inconsolable.

Several days pass before Leon is brought to a state of mediocre tranquility. His heart is still rampant, but with fear of more time wasted without taking proper action, he abides by the doctor's demands. He will do anything to get to you, after all. Kneel before God, succumb to the Devil. Face him with the most torturous, humiliating, gut-wrenching fate with the promise of your return and he will simply smile in response. Leon will lay with blood painting his teeth and purple bruises caked into his skin, unhinged with euphoria knowing you are the prize at the end of the tunnel.

Mere picoseconds had passed before he sprung into action. He is swift to return to his work. Fervently, he begins scouring through every detail Umbrella left behind to pinpoint the exact location you reside at.

The most valuable piece of evidence was security camera footage. A prominent clue that made Leon's stomach coil like a snake ensnaring itself around its prey. Outside of the window to your bedroom, the night-vision camera highlights the scene of two intruders. With careful ease, they pull your unconscious body through the room and flee to the adjacent forest with you in their arms.

Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira are their names.

Or, as Leon prefers to refer to them, two names that have now been added to his lengthy list of those who will face his wrath.

The team has theorized the two have been working for Umbrella and were assigned to sneakily escort survivors to a new location. Due to this, patients still in this present location are now being sent to a hospital guarded by the Torrents. A place where they will be kept far away from Umbrella's grasp. What the team can't piece together, however, is why the two never came back to take more survivors. They had plentiful opportunities, but you, Y/N L/N, are the only missing patient. Or, as the team has now assigned your code name as, "Baby-Eagle".

Now, Leon is coursing through Spain. Guns strapped in their holster, knives out at the ready, and a reveling rage in his eyes — he counts every second spent away from you. The chilling temperatures gust against his skin like sharp teeth as he practically tears the country asunder. All that matters is finding the face that has been stamped in every dream of his for the past six years.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He still can't believe it. You are alive.

If Leon grants himself permission to revel in this fact, he will lose what little control he still possesses over himself. God knows how much he needs the slivers that still remain. These feelings, despite all, have kindled strength Leon never recognized. A new spark; a fresh, riveting chapter. Emotions which only you, some sort of sorcerer, are capable of conjuring.

A day has now passed of his relentless search. More and more does fear cradle Leon. Like a warm blanket nestled around his heart, he is horrified by the silence that ventures through the land of Los Iluminados. The mere thought of potentially stumbling across you, lifeless, is enough to evoke a gag from the back of his throat. He cannot handle that. He cannot lose you again.

The dim light of dusk irradiates the loading docks. Every rushed step Leon takes causes the decrepit surface to moan weakly from the weight. He scrutinizes every shipping container, every nook and cranny, every barrel splattered with yellow paint. He becomes increasingly more ridden with desperation as his lasting hope begins to flicker.

Leon turns a corner and finds it: the sight he has been crying every night to see for six years. His mouth speaks before his brain can emulate these soul-crushing sensations.

"Y/N...!?"

You turn your head to the intrusion. Leon is shocked he had not died right there beneath your gaze.

You, his epic, undying love, rest there as though Botticelli painted you as the focal point for 'Birth of Venus'. Sat against some paper sacks like Venus stood on her scallop shell, Leon has never seen a sight quite as perfect as this. Strikingly similar to the pearl Venus resembles, you and her are pure and exquisite as you are brought to life. In a way, it is precisely the events which take place now. Six years wrestling with the burden of your death, only for you to be reborn before his very eyes like the natural, divine God you are. Absolutely, irrevocably perfect in your stance.

Leon stands frozen in place. Staring at this work of art, this utter masterpiece mere yards away from him. He is then taken aback when he feels something wet trickle down his cheeks. What he assumes to be rainfall is actually... tears?

All these years, he has begged the universe to feel his emotions. Or to feel anything, for that matter. It will not bring you back, as he wholly prayed for every night, but it would bring temporary, weak relief. Right now, as though you had some form of superpower, Leon cries. He cries like he has never before. His face twists into an ugly scrunch; he can feel the hot tears and stringy snot seep down his skin. He listens to the gut-wrenching sobs protruding from his chest and holds his hand over his heart, overwhelmed by the intensity the organ is enduring.

Despite the tragic scene, Leon has never been happier. The journey these six years have taken him on has been rough. Irrevocably soul-crushing. Seeing you here, beautiful as you always were, makes everything worth it — utterly, indubitably, and completely.

Then, someone else interrupts.

Ada Wong, a few years older, steps into view. Guarding you from the unwelcome intruder.

The epiphany strikes like a broken heart. It is not betrayal, as he has never trusted Ada. Rather, it is a flood of humiliation. It is absolute shame, unadulterated and pure. How could he have been such a fool?

All this time, Ada had kept you with her. She was the reason he was apart from you; she was the distance that stood between two soulmates. That must be the story, right? She sunk those acrylic claws into your pretty skin and took you away from him, spewing lies about your death and granting Umbrella access to you.

Leon is hit with this epiphany. Hit with what he perceives to be the truth. And it makes him alive with rage.

"It was you, wasn't it...?"

The silence is shattered by his voice. Sewn with fury and nestled deep inside him. His attention, once solely devoted to the love of his life, has now been shifted towards someone else. The one he believes to be responsible for these six years of sheer agony.

"This whole fucking time-!"

In one swift motion, Leon storms over with his fingers clenched to his holster. You stand from the paper sacks and use your body as a shield between Ada and him. Your hand ghosts over Leon's chest to prevent any more unwanted violence. And how unaware you are of the sheer impact your physical touch has on this man.

For a moment, just a fleeting second, Leon is able to overlook the context of the circumstances. Your hand barely makes contact with his body, and from them, he can feel your warmth. The same warmth he has been chasing after; the same warmth he has killed himself over and over to try and retrieve again. It is like a gentle breeze, like tepid bath water. Somehow, your simple touch has pacified his rage as though it were merely child's play to you. Something Leon never thought was feasible.

And just like always, Ada Wong is there to shatter yet another trance.

"Have you really gone so far off the deep end, that you think you could ever amount to being their boyfriend? You truly believe you deserve that title?" Ada laughs. A deep, mocking chuckle. "Are you really that delusional or just naturally blonde?"

You look at Ada and speak for the first time.

"'Boyfriend?'"

An expression of puzzlement is plastered on your face. In return, their heads whip to stare at you, brows furrowed while searching for confirmation.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Leon was never my boyfriend...?"

Their confusion deepens. Ada questions how she could have so foolishly fallen for a fantasy this dumb boy created. Leon questions why you are telling her such lies. You've been dating for almost seven years now, what are you talking about? 

"Y/N/N, you don't have to lie to her. You know I won't let her hurt you."

Now, it is your turn to be just as perplexed as they both are. What the fuck is he talking about?

As you're busy scrutinizing him for an explanation, Ada grasps hold of your forearm. Protectively and with softness, she guides you away from the deranged antics of Leon. You lean into her touch in response, as your trust in her is stronger than whatever you feel for him. Especially after the events you and Ada have both endured today.

The man in question, however, does not favor this action. With a swiftness that makes you dizzy, Leon shoves her off of you. Ada falls to the ground from the force of his strength but gracefully springs to her feet. Eyes narrowed and hunting knife in hand, she is ready for battle.

A shriek then falls from your mouth when Leon takes his pistol from its holster but is replaced with shocked silence when Ada kicks the gun from his grasp with her stiletto heel. A stab towards his chest is easily blocked by his meaty forearm, but she still manages to retaliate and surges a punch across his jaw.

Everything happens so fast that it is impossible for you to keep up with the speed of it all. When Ada drops to her feet, encasing her leg around Leon's ankles and sending him to the floor, the loud clamor of his harsh landing takes you back to a few days ago. That bang! is all too familiar. The fire of gunshots out of Jill's gun and the pounding of their fists against flesh — these memories return more harshly than before. Your heart hammers with dread and adrenaline, as though the same inner turmoil has returned yet again.

Once again, who do I choose? The clingy customer at Mizoil, the overly affectionate Superwoman, or myself?

In a state of pure instinct, you do what you predominantly fail at the most. Run.

You don't anticipate how close they may be behind, or if two of your past lovers may be waiting somewhere in the forest. You do not pay these thoughts any attention, for that matter. Focused entirely on the path ahead, you run like you never have before. And if it weren't for the rampant adrenaline coursing through your system, you could say you've become familiar with this forest. It is almost ridiculous how much you have raced past all these trees. Burning lungs, numb legs and all — oh, this is really getting old.

When a sudden force knocks you to your feet, you can feel yourself begin to succumb to lethargy. The relentless sprint and post-laser-induced pains have become too much for your body to endure. Shifting your gaze up, however, you are met with a burst of energy when you see that you have collided with... A person?

Thick gear is strapped to his strong body. Glasses are rested upon the bridge of his nose. This is the first stranger you have seen in months and you do not know how to handle it.

"Oh, shit. It's really you..." His concerned gaze peers at you through his foggy eyewear.

When his fingers ghost over your arm, you flinch away from him. You do not mean to do this, but your body, riddled with turmoil and trauma, reacts before your brain can.

"It's alright, it's alright..." His voice goes softer. "My name is Tyrell. I'm here to help you."

He reaches a cautious hand out to you, as though you were a feeble, terrified animal backed into a corner. Your trust has been worn thin, but whatever fight left in your system has entirely perished. You cannot run anymore; you cannot defend yourself. If this is death, then you will welcome it with open arms. At least you can say you've made it this far.

Lifting a shaky hand up, you let out a gentle gasp when you make physical contact with him. With tender encouragement, Tyrell brings you to your feet. Your tired legs wobble as though you were a baby fawn. Touch that does not inevitably follow with romantic expectations is something foreign to you. This level of kindness has almost become a stranger. Although you would never verbalize it, his touch feels good. It is a comfort; a softness.

Before you know it, your eyes flutter shut. Your body fails you and you collapse into Tyrell's arms. Now, unconsciousness comes as a solace, instead of that familiar trepidation.

And so engrossed in their own feral need for dominance, neither Ada nor Leon had taken notice of your sudden disappearance.

Fresh bruises and blood splatters permeate their bodies. What neither of them realizes about the other is that Leon fights hard, yes, but Ada doesn't fight fair. In a matter of several seconds, she takes the man to the metal floors, once again.

Leather heels pressed to his neck, she points his own pistol to his face.

"Now stay down."

Leon has never been one to back down. Even with death staring directly into his eyes, never once has he begged. However, with you here, alive, he can't bear to be torn from you again.

"Don't... Please, I-I'll do whatever you want. Just please don't take me away from them. Not again..."

Ada is nearly struck dumbfounded by this new side of him. Leon Kennedy, the savior of the president's daughter, one of the few survivors of Raccoon City, is begging for his life? What has she done to this man? Or, above all, what have you done to him?

"Tell me what Umbrella wants with Y/N."

Leon's eyes trail off behind her, seemingly searching for something with frantic movements. Her words had merely gone through one ear and out the other. His silence is only met with frustration.

"I've kept you away from them for this long." Her finger moves to hover over the trigger. "I can easily turn those six years into forever."

"Where did Y/N go?" Leon cuts her off.

Ada nearly snaps her neck with how fast she turns around. Dark eyes scanning the loading docks, her stomach sinks into a sea of dread when she cannot find you. Leon scrambles to his feet and searches alongside his nemesis. Shouts of your name echo into the gloomy skies; their hammering hearts could rival a war drum.

From here, yet another search for you begins. And between them, there is now an unspoken agreement, a newfound alliance. Although their plans rarely come to fruition, they have both found a conclusion together. The two are now wholly focused on the scheme they will achieve or die striving for.

Find you, ensure your safety, and keep you forever in their arms.

A warm, wet rag pressed against your forehead is what you awaken to next. The sudden shift into consciousness causes you to jerk back. Your eyes burst wide, scrutinizing as much of your environment as you can.

You're finally out of that dark forest. Now, you've been rested upon a dilapidated couch. Damp clothes are still stuck to your body, but a thick comforter has been draped upon you. The golden lamplight highlights Tyrell, who sits on the coffee table beside you. With a bowl of water and a rag in his hand, he looks at you with a concerned gleam in his gaze.

You are brought to a mild sense of ease once you comprehend your surroundings. You do not have it within you to trust anyone, but for some reason, this man has brought tranquility you cannot explain. Safety has become a rarity. And you gobble every breadcrumb of it you are able to garner.

"Welcome back." He jokes. His tone is still quiet, as it has been. Careful.

Your throat aches, but you still speak.

"Where am I?" You nearly cringe at how scratchy, how pathetic your voice is.

"My house." This does not calm you. Tyrell notices.

"Hey, no one can get you in here. You are safe, I swear it." His assurances help ease you. He, once again, takes notice of this before continuing.

"I'm sure you have a 'lotta questions for me, huh? I got some for you, too."

"Umbrella. What do they want from me?"

"That's a good question because I don't know either. It's what we're trying to figure out." You furrow your brow, to which he answers to your confusion. "I work with a team called the Torrents. We've been tasked with locating Umbrella and finding any survivors. You were top of our list, 'Baby-Eagle'. Now that you're safe and sound, my teammates can finally get some sleep."

Your smile grows at that nickname. God, when was the last time someone elicited a genuine smile from you?

"We think they may have been testing on some of the patients they have. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

Then, the dread settles with the realization. Jill and Carlos were right this whole time. When you would travel to the ends of the Earth to defend that corporation, it was all for a lie in the end. When Jill and Carlos saved you from them, you paid them back with cruelty and distrust. You left them both in the dust when all they wished to do was save you. Should you have ever left them?

"What about Carlos Oliveira? Jill Valentine? We know they had, um... taken you. If you're willing to talk about them, I'm all ears. 'Got all night, anyways."

There Tyrell goes again. The voice of reason in a bubble of incoherent regret.

"All I-um... All I remember is being at the sanct- er, Umbrella. I drank some tea and then I woke up in Jill and Carlos' house. The next several months, they-uh, they convinced me we were in a... relationship, of some sort. Matt- or Umbrella, found us in the end. They all hurt each other. Real bad. Then, I ended up here." Your words are quiet and broken, but Tyrell manages to pick up every cracked piece of your voice.

"Okay. I see..." He nods. "Do you think Jill and Carlos could have possibly been working for Umbrella?"

This question leaves you taken aback, evident in your dramatic reaction and scrunched face.

"God, no! They despised Umbrella. And I... I defended Umbrella. I thought they helped me, I thought they were the good guys. Every time Jill and Carlos talked shit about them, I would get so-" You interrupt yourself with a coughing fit.

Reaching to his side, Tyrell holds a plastic bottle of water in his large hands. The prospect of drugs floating through the liquid fills you with apprehension. However, with your throat on fire, you eagerly take the bottle and nearly down the entire beverage. Tyrell is one of the good ones, he wouldn't do that to you. You're sure of it.

"It's alright. You don't have to answer any more of my stupid questions, don't worry. All you 'gotta do is rest."

If you were more conscious and without the weight of fresh trauma, you'd make a joke of how he should be a voice actor with such a soothing voice like his. Tyrell's hand finds your shoulder and softly guides you back down to the couch. You ignore the unfamiliar, teenage-love-like bolt of electricity that flows from his touch and you follow his lead. When your head hits the rough fabric of the pillow, you let your heavy eyes fall.

When a door down the hallway bursts open, you cannot tell if you had been asleep for hours or if you had slept at all. Without Tyrell's presence, that all-too-familiar sense of terror returns. When you are barely able to discern his muffled voice through the walls, that terror is slightly diluted with ease. The context is what lies outside this room still has you riddled with fear.

Then, like every cheesy romance film you've ever seen, Leon Kennedy stands on the threshold of the living room entrance.

You are barely allowed a mere second to process his presence before he is barreling for you. His arms, thick and warm, ensnare around your waist. He exhales your name with a breathless tremor, burying his head further into the crevice of your neck. And you melt into him. After everything you've been through, a hug is something you are in dire need of. Leon croons in response, latching onto you tighter. Nestling himself closer against you like a touch-starved, needy puppy-dog.

"Oh, sunlight... I was so worried...!" Although this man has suffered drastic changes in the six years you've been without him, he never seems to have let go of that saccharine tone. Unbeknownst to you, you are the only one capable of summoning that side of Leon.

Although you feel safe in the comfort of Tyrell's home, there is still that stagnant terror fizzing in your stomach. A myriad of questions overwhelm your brain. What has happened? How much time has passed? Where is Ada?

You weaken your hold on him. He does not like that. "Leon. Please, I need to know-"

"Shh..." He interrupts, his hands trailing up your form until they grasp hold of your face. His grip on you, tighter than ever, shifts so he can gaze into your eyes.

"Just let me look at you..."

And that he does. Seconds, then minutes pass. All Leon does is stare directly into you. As though every inch of your irises were being studied to memory by him. As though he was pulling the depths of your soul to the surface of your eye, all for him to gawk and goggle at. It should make you blush and avert your gaze, as the characters normally do in those romance movies. However, you can't bring yourself to. You feel uncomfortable and scrutinized. As though you are restrained to a metal table for strangers and doctors to poke and prod at.

The doorbell then rings and the echo roams through the halls. You are broken from this entrance with Leon, but he is not. God, how could he?

With you here, all the cruelty he has been faced with is now wrapped together in a pretty bow. It was all a present, he now realizes. Everything that has happened led him to the personification of utmost, perpetual happiness. So, you must forgive him if he finds himself staring for too long (not that he even realizes, for that matter). It is impossible to fathom the flood of euphoria rushing through him, hence the dumbfounded, love-struck expression stamped on his face.

"Y/N..." He exhales, honey dripping from his voice.

Although he does not wish to close his eyes, Leon cannot imagine a better time to kiss you. Where the music swells, the candles glimmer, the moon gleams. It is what he has been dreaming about for six years, after all.

Just as Leon leans in, his intentions are cut short. Someone else, once again, interrupts.

Tyrell avoids the death glare from Leon and focuses on you, oblivious to how this action is the root of Leon's fury.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything. Someone was just here for you, Y/N."

Carlos and Jill are the first people who enter your mind, here to take you back to the affection-ridden toxicity of their humble abode. When Tyrell holds his hands out and displays what this stranger left, however, you're taken aback.

"She claimed to be your wife...?"

Tyrell informs you with uncertainty in his voice.

"And she left this."

What he then gives to you is a plushie, one you remember all too well. It is an opossum, the very same opossum you cuddled with every night during your time at the sanctuary. You've missed him very much whilst you were stuck with Jill and Carlos. Despite your expressed wishes, they never made the effort to retrieve your darling opossum. Why cuddle some measly fabric and cotton when you can cuddle them instead?

You let out a sigh of relief. Thank God it is not those two at the door.

The only striking difference in your fuzzy friend is the blood-red ribbon tied around the opossum's neck. Wedged between the silk and faux fur is a folded piece of paper. Both Tyrell and Leon watch as you open the letter, digesting the contents written on the surface.

In red ink, "Wait for me, petal..." is written with flawless, cursive handwriting. Beneath, a dandelion is drawn. The pappus drifts through the wind and scatters across the paper.

Ada?

Why is she here? Where has she been?

Or, more importantly, how the hell did she find your opossum?

A rough, sharp gasp sprouts from Jill's throat when she awakens.

A flickering light sways above her, the sight blurred in her tired gaze. Her body aches from the awkward position she was unconscious in. Lifting her weakened body up, Jill discerns several bodies, painted in blood and grime, that had been splayed in a frivolous mess. There are miscellaneous documents scattered amongst this violent disarray. Shifting her distorted gaze, she finds two metal doors that had been sprung open. How the hell did she get inside of a truck? What caused it to crash in the first place?

Using the dented walls for support, she stumbles forward. Black dots dance in Jill's vision for a moment, before returning to a hazy blur as she staggers out of the vehicle. With an abrupt grunt, she collapses into the mud. Her hands, stained with dirt, hold her ribs in an attempt to ease the stagnant pain.

For this simple moment, Jill is alone in the world. When the most important thing in her life finally flashes through her mind, the pumping of her heart accelerates.

Y/N... Where did you go?

Memories of her last encounter with you return, as well. It harbors terror like no other. She speaks your name and it sprouts from her throat in a desperate call.

Jill's breath quickens when she discerns a voice. The indubitable sound of someone crying for help echoes through the forest. She turns to the source with hope and worry shimmering in her eyes. Oh, it's her baby, her butterfly! You need her help!

"Y/N...! I'm coming..." Her voice is weak, but her attempts are the entire opposite.

Jill limps through the forest, clambering over wreckage with frantic effort. Averting her blurred gaze to the sound of cries, her face drops when she finds something entirely different.

That doctor you are evidently so infatuated with is stuck beneath a pile of rubble. His face appears as though it had been sunken in. Drowned in a mess of gore.

And sitting on top of the doctor is no other than Carlos Oliveira, whose fists are painted in that same gore.

His clenched fists plunge into Matt's face over and over and over again. His teeth are barred and bloodied like some sort of animal. His voice is several octaves lower than ever before, all guttural growls and grunts like some sort of rabid creature. It is something Jill has never seen before. Not in Raccoon City, not when they took you from the sanctuary, not even when she took you out for a ride on her motorcycle. He is now a monster in its absolute form.

However, Carlos is not something she is concerned with at the moment. She hurls herself over to the two and shoves Carlos off of Matt. He falls to the ground with a loud thump and a harsh curse. Jill ignores his dramatic reaction, before climbing atop of Matt and ensnaring her hands around his red-stained neck. Jill then proceeds to interrogate him of your whereabouts.

"What did you do to them? Where the fuck did you take them!?" Jill does not recognize herself, either. Her voice has morphed into a low, violent tone, an inflection she never knew she was capable of producing.

Matt does not respond to her pressuring questions. He chokes and gurgles on chunks of blood, teeth, and spit. His eyes, now puffy and swollen from the relentless blows they have endured, gape at her in confused terror. However, not that Matt could even be given the chance to respond. Jill glances at the sudden movement in her peripheral and is met with Carlos' fist striking her cheek. The force of the punch sends her to the dirt.

"This is all your fucking fault, Jill!" Her ears almost ring from the sheer volume of his shout.

Once again, it is a side of Carlos she has never seen before. She can take a punch, that's for damn sure. God knows she's handled worse. But fuck, is he out for blood right now.

"If you had never taken Y/N outside, they never would've wanted to leave in the fucking first place!" The tremble in the back of Carlos' throat jeopardizes his intimidation factor. Of course, he is crying, Jill sighs to herself.

Her lanky fingers press into the damp ground to stabilize herself. Before she can bring herself back to her feet, however, something catches her eye. A single document among the millions. She takes the closest one into her grasp and reads through the classified contents. With that damned Umbrella logo in the corner, Jill is fully aware of what evil, corrupt plans await her in the following passage.

As Carlos sobs like a child behind her, whimpers of "my baby" and "come back to me" filling the silent air, she scours through the information printed on the page. Three names are stamped in bold: Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira, and Y/N L/N. More survivors collected from Raccoon City, they claim. There are reports of your physicality and state of being, accompanied by their predictions on how you'll react to their new testing. "Las Plagas" is what they refer to it as.

At the very bottom of the document, most imperatively, is a series of coordinates to their new location.

With this newfound, fruitful information, Jill trudges over to Carlos for additional aid. When she finds him practically tucked into a ball, sobbing his lungs out, she cannot restrain herself from rolling her eyes.

"Get up. Get up, pussy, come on-!" When she tugs on his arm, he pushes her harshly away from him.

"You don't understand!” Brown eyes, overwhelmed with tears, glare at her in accusation. “I can't live without them..."

Jill is swift to counter back. "Neither can-fucking-I! And we will never see 'em again unless you man-up and fuckin’ listen to me!"

This grabs his attention.

"So, are you just gonna sit there and fuckin' whine about it or are you gonna help me?"

With a sniffle, Carlos nods in agreement.

"Good. Now get your shit together and find me a goddamn map."

Jill does not waste another second before springing into action. She begins with a thorough scrutinization of the scene of the crash, searching for any specific landmarks that will inform them of their current whereabouts. When all she finds is a street sign made of decaying wood that reads "Los Iluminados," she knows her luck is wearing thin.

When Carlos announces with a cracked voice his discovery, Jill limps with urgency to him. Nestled beneath the passenger seat is a map, crumbled and stained with filth. Jill yanks the paper from his hands and searches for the street they are currently stuck on, while also discerning the coordinates Umbrella had disclosed in their document.

Meanwhile, Carlos chokes out demands left and right. Asking her what all of this is for, and how this will help him in his efforts to reunite with his sweet bumblebee. Despite his irritating questions, she does not respond to him. She is too engrossed in her own head, manipulating her detective skills.

"There." Jill finally breaks her fit of silence.

Presenting the map to Carlos, she points to where the coordinates line up.

"That's where Y/N is."

A beat passes as Carlos, too, inspects the contents before him. Then, he snatches the map from Jill's hands. He storms off in the direction she advised with a desperate vengeance in his disposition.

When Jill takes a step to follow him, something clutches around her ankles. With a sharp gasp, she looks down to identify the sudden matter. When the hopeful fraction of her mind told her it could be you, she was met with disappointment when she finds Matt. Whining and pleading for her help, blood still oozing from his butchered head and seeping into the mud below.

Jill stares at the man with absolutely nothing in her eyes. She, instead, snatches a loose, sharp twig from the mess of detritus scattered around. Before Matt can obtrude another helpless plead, she drives the stuck directly into his eye. Blood squirts from the fresh wound like a fizzy soda. One last gurgle for air and his body finally goes limp.

She spits on his corpse. Then, Jill turns back to follow Carlos on his trail.

Wherever you may be, she will find you. Even if it kills her.

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

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ I TRY TO FALL FOR HER TOUCH,

BUT I'M THINKING OF THE WAY IT WAS . . . ❞

long wait but we back again babyyyyy

gif creds :: leon.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere sugar daddy made me giggle with him buying me a car 🚗 Cuz I can’t drive…This then led me to think how fucked I am in a relationship with any of your yanderes cuz I’m practically a sitting duck 🦆 What am I going to do if I wanna get away from them? Wait on the side of the road to take a public transport bus? 🚌 Or do I gotta bike my way to freedom? 🚲 😭

Speaking of vehicles though…for the yanderes that this question is appreciable…what’re the cars they drive vs. the dream car or car that you think fits their aesthetic? 🚗

Also who’s ok with me being their cute lil passenger princess? 👑

girl, it's so embarrassing but I can't drive either 😭

Atp, I think we'll need to Uber our way to freedom. Tip the drive 100% in case of damages caused by deranged exes.

Yandere boys and their cars

Yandere! Boyfriend definitely drives a Jeep wrangler. He's a big guy and he needs the extra space. I also see him as the more outdoorsy type, so a Jeep is perfect for all his hiking and climbing gear. He loves his car for the sole reason that you like sitting shotgun in summer, the roof down and your hair blowing in the wind. It makes for a damn pretty sight.

Yandere! State Trooper is assigned one of those State Police Dodge Challengers. All American muscle that thrums up through the seats. If there's ever a car chase or an evading suspect, he's first on the scene. On quiet nights, he'll head to the highway and gun it. V8 engine roaring even louder than the sirens. He's not supposed to, but he likes taking you for a drive now and then. He likes the way you cling to the dash and shake when he blows through the speed limit.

Yandere! Cop is a certified Ford pickup kind of guy. It's got space, it's got power but most importantly, it doesn't stand out. This is Middle America baby, they're everywhere. When he follows you, he knows for a fact you won't notice him. His only customization is the extremely tinted windows. Can't have you seeing his face when he takes all those pictures of you, now can he?

Yandere! Academic Rival has trustfund money to spend and his daddy's whole garage to choose from. For everyday, I can see him driving a BMW or Audi roadster. Sleek, sporty and modern. But on the weekends, when he's driving up the coast to his country house, he's definitely taking something vintage. He has a whole collection of luxury old money convertibles - every single one of them something you expect to see at St. Moritz.

Yandere! Mobster drives a Cadillac Town Sedan. It's got a powerful engine to outrun the pigs and plenty of trunk space to stash smuggled alcohol. He absolutely adores taking you on long drives. Windows open to catch the fresh air, picnic basket on the back seat, your head resting on his shoulder on the way home... What's not to love?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy is new money. And a tech nerd. So I see him mostly driving electric cars, maybe a Porsche Taycan for 'everyday use' (who the hell drives a Porsche like a regular commuter car? Your Croesus rich boyfriend, that's who). And something extra luxurious for weekends and date nights - probably something like the Yangwang U9. He loves messing around with the extra features and plugging the cars into his computer diagnostic system. Surprisingly, he's not that fond of actually driving. He much prefers you do it and let him enjoy the scenery.

Yandere! Werewolf drives a vintage cherry red Mustang. He bought it cheap off an older guy who hated the repairs, and spent all summer working on it. By extension, that meant you spent all summer sprawled across the backseat, thumbing through fashion magazines and listening to golden oldies on the radio. It's got plenty of space and if he was the kinda guy to make a move on a girl at the drive in, this would be the car to do it in.

[hallietblr]

Omg! I love your writing! You write Conrad so perfectly. Can I please request one with Conrad Fisher where the reader and Conrad are best friends but everyone knows that they love each other because they’re always touchy and affectionate with each other. They even have cute nicknames for each other and everyone else just wants them to get together already. Your blog is amazing ❤️✨

orange bikini, the marina, and ray bands | c.fisher x reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request love! i had a lot of fun writing it, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: fluff

—

summers were always unforgettable. maybe because you got to spend every moment of it with your best friends. as a local in cousins, you watched different families come and go every summer — only a few of them being regular summer visitors. for example, the fisher and conklin families.

susannah fisher was such a bright light to the lives of the locals, bringing charity events to cousins every summer along with invested a lot of money into the country club. as for her sons, they were just like her. both conrad and jeremiah were bundles of sunshine, like a warm hug, or maybe a refreshing glass of lemonade on a hot summers day.

i had immediately bonded with conrad when i first met him when i was eight and he was ten. we met at the beach and instantly clicked. i soon was introduced to his younger brother, jeremiah, and two family friends, belly and steven. although i spent just as much time with the rest of them as i did with conrad, somehow him and i were always the closest.

despite the small age gap between us, we were like two peas in a pod.

i always looked forward to june since it indicated the start of summer, when my best friends return back to their summer home. i do have close friends here at cousins who are also locals, but the conklin and fisher siblings bring a new sort of fun to my life.

now that i’m sixteen, i stand at the marina dock, working alongside my friend cam. we both got internships with the marine biology department for the summer. i was laughing as cameron shook his brunette curls dry from water from the dive we just came back from. the droplets of water landing on me and my orange bikini.

“cameron!” i squeal, pushing him away, “i swear to god i’ll throw you off this deck if you continue to shower me”

he laughs as he steals my beach towel to dry himself, “you know you love it.”

i roll my eyes before they land on a very familiar red jeep wrangler that parks by the dock. i lift my ray bands off the bridge of my nose and place them on top of my head, i squint harder to see if it was who i thought it was. as the driver door opens, my favourite 6’2 dirty blonde boy steps out — conrad fisher.

he sees me staring at him while standing in just my bikini before a large smile paints across his face. i don’t even notice jeremiah stepping out from the passenger seat as i start running sprinting towards conrad.

he meets me halfway, where the dock began. “oh my god!” i exclaim as i jump into his muscular football player arms. my arms wrap around his neck and legs around his waist as i hug him tightly. he smells like sea salt, coconut sunscreen, and a hint of weed.

conrad has his arms holding my torso as he spins us in circles, “hey beautiful, did you miss me?”

“more than anything” i tell him, lifting my head from the crook of his neck, “you know, nine months is too long to be away from you”

“you say that every year, sunshine” he chuckles, carefully placing me back onto my birkenstock covered feet. his green eyes flicker from my sunkissed face to my chest for a split second.

i feel myself blush at it. he’s grown up a lot since i last saw him in august. his shoulders are broader, his biceps are larger, and his hair is longer. i smile sweetly at him, “because it never changes.”

“alright that’s enough from you two lovebirds. you look great in orange, y/n!” jeremiah compliments me as he pulls me into a squeeze hug, “how are you?”

i hug him tightly, “i’m doing great! cameron and i have been busy since school ended with this marine biology internship — but we get to be by the ocean all day so i’m not complaining!”

jeremiah grind his infamous smile, “sounds like fun! you know, steven and i are working at the country club this summer. time to make some bank!”

i giggle before pulling the brothers into a group hug, “ugh, i’m so happy you guys are finally back! when are belly and steven coming?”

“tomorrow afternoon,” conrad says as we all pull apart. i motion them to follow me down to the dock,

“i want you guys to meet one of my best friends,” i explain as cameron looks up at us and offers a smile, “this is cam, well, cameron. he just moved here last september and we’ve been hanging out since. you know, he’s just as interested in marine biology as i am!”

little did i know, cameron having his arm hanging around my neck ignited a small spark in conrad’s stomach at the sight. conrad gives a weak smile, meanwhile jeremiah daps cam up,

“what’s good, cam cameron! i’m jeremiah” he laughs, “you know, you’re making my brother conrad jealous right now. you have your hands on his future wife”

cam’s eyes go huge, “oh shit! are you two dating? y/n, you never told me you have a boyfriend! that’s my bad, bro.” he quickly apologizes and removes his arm from my shoulders.

“fuck off, jere” conrad says to his younger brother.

i smack jeremiah’s shoulder playfully, “i do not have a boyfriend, i don’t know why jere is making up bull”

“you mind as well be married at this point, considering the amount of hours you two spend texting each other.” jeremiah shrugs as he picks up my colourful printed backpack, “let’s head back to our place, cam you can come too”

cam thanks jeremiah but turns down the offer due to being needed back at his home. the two exchange instagrams so they can make plans later in the summer. with that, cameron runs off to his bike and waves us all goodbye.

conrad and my eyes meet and i can’t help but feel my heart rate pick up at the eye contact. i know i’ve always thought conrad was cute and was more drawn to him, but this felt a lot more different compared to the previous summers together.

i called shotgun as we all raced back to the wrangler, jeremiah pouting as he sits in the back seats. i plug my phone in for aux and start playing my new summer playlist that i just started making.

what once was by hers starts playing loudly from the car stereo as the windows are down and rooftop of the jeep was removed. the sweet summer breeze flowing through the car and our hairs as we all sing our hearts out. conrad has a hand on my knee, massaging it with his thumb while he drives. i try to surprise the butterflies and the heat rising to my cheeks at his actions.

as he parks the car at the familiar white summer home, we all jump out as conrad exclaims to race to the kitchen. he claims that whoever is last is getting thrown into the pool first.

the two fisher boys had an unfair advantage because of their longer legs, thus being able to take longer strides. we make it into the kitchen where susannah stands, smiling her golden smile,

“y/n! sweetheart, look at you!” she coos, pulling me into a warm embrace. she smells like roses and fresh laundry as i hold her tightly, she whispers into my ear, “so when are you and connie making it official? i know how you two feel about each other and he speaks of you so often at home.”

i flush at her comment but smile on response, “it’s so good to see you, susannah.”

she caresses my cheek, “i swear, you get more and more gorgeous every time i see you. plus, that orange bikini top looks absolutely fabulous on you.”

“i look just the same as last summer,” i laugh, “and the summers before that.”

she rolls her eyes playfully, “oh sweetie, don’t brush off my compliments. i mean it, you are glowing! don’t you think, connie?” she asks, looking over at her older son who already has a slight blush across his cheeks.

he smiles, “yeah, yeah you do.”

jeremiah grabs my wrist and pulls me away from his mom, “stop trying to avoid you fate, y/n! time to get thrown into the pool!” he grins, tugging me towards the sliding glass doors.

i squeal as the two both have grips on my arms as i try my best to free myself, “oh, come on! at least let me take off my shorts and ray bands!”

they surprisingly allow me to do so, before conrad grabs my wrists and jeremiah grabs my ankles.

“1…” they count together, starting to swing me back and forth by the edge of the pool.

“2…” i squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself for the cold pool water.

“3!”

i scream as i’m thrown into the air before splashing into the chlorine water. i swim to the surface of the water with a cheeky idea in mind, i grab a hold of my left ankle and distort my facial feature in discomfort,

“shit!” i cry out, taking a breath from being under water for a moment too long.

conrad immediately straightens up at the sight, “baby, what happened? are you okay?” he panics.

“y/n, are you good?” jeremiah asks, the two having obvious concern laced in their facial expressions.

i shake my head and fake a sob, “i think i sprained my ankle at the bottom of the pool.”

in seconds, conrad removes his burgundy tee shirt in one swift movement before diving into the water. his strong arms lifting me and bringing my legs to wrap around his waist, “fuck, i’m so sorry, pretty girl.” he breathes out, planting two kisses on my forehead, “let me see it.”

he swims us over to the edge of the pool where jeremiah once stood before he left to grab towels and an ice pack. conrad lifts me up effortlessly onto the pool side, beginning to inspect my left ankle,

“wait,” he pauses, noticing no swelling nor bruising.

i couldn’t hold in for much longer before i broke into laughter, “i’m sorry! you should’ve seen the look on your pretty face!”

his worry drops before splashing me with water, “you’re so lucky that i love you.”

i stop laughing and wipe my face dry from water before looking at him, “w- what?”

conrad’s eyes widen at the accidentally confession, “i mean… as a friend of course!”

my heart feels a slight tug at the correction but i smile weakly. why would he love me in the way that i feel towards him? i awkwardly laugh before kicking water back at him, and jumping back into the pool.

“ok good, i got worried for a second” i lie, swimming towards him. his hands subconsciously hold onto the curves of my hips, his green eyes looking deep into mine.

i known him for what feels like forever and i can read him like an open book, well typically. but right now, his expression is unreadable. i’m distracted by him, his hands on me, the explosion of butterflies in my gut, and my heart beating loudly in my ears.

his hand cups my cheek, both of our eyes fluttering close as he pulls me closer to his face. i can feel the slight minty feeling of his breath on my lips before,

“i got the ice!” jeremiah yells, with a loud slam of the glass door which caused conrad and i to jump away from each other.

we almost kissed.

i cant even look at my best friend right now, embarrassed with the bright pink colour of my cheeks as i swim over to jeremiah, “thanks” i say quietly, pretending to ice my ankle.

i watch conrad get out of the pool and dismiss himself to his room,

“did something happen?” jeremiah asks, completely lost and confused of the situation.

[themareverine]

Subaru, It's You | worst!Logan x nameless!femOC

warnings: fluff, domesticity, absolutely self indulgent, mentions of a car accident, based on some limited Googling I’ve placed Logan and Deadpool in Hoboken, NJ.

a/n: car shopping with Logan torturing the salesman and being sexy, lol. can only imagine. absolutely no idea where this came from, took me 20 minutes on my phone. Enjoy.

“I just wanna know if the heads have been done, baby.”

Nervously twisting her foot against the stones and other used-car lot gravel has done little to sway Logan’s insistence on forcing the underpaid salesman to answer earthbending questions just short of torturous. Twice already the man had left back into the office to retrieve records—hasn’t been smart enough to just keep the file on hand. Kids these days, is all Logan had muttered. The man was no less than 55, at a wild hair guess—gray mottling his beard and once-copper hair was evidence.

Attention welded firmly to the top the motor humming quietly in front of him, Logan’s hands slip into his pockets as he studies. He’d been taking her to car dealerships all afternoon, for nearly five weekends in a row—money burning holes in the pockets of his Wranglers, no doubt.

Unable to find anything remotely worth his time, Logan had been nitpicking since she’d proudly waved the check from Geico proudly overhead. Like a battle flag staked in the survival of a car accident, it wasn’t a life changing amount of cash—meager, actually, considering the vehicle lost. She’d trashed the Tuscon on the backroads of Tennessee valley country, a tried and true companion with well over two hundred thousand on the dash and the Midwestern rust to prove it.

A wreck she’d walked away from. Logan had all but flown to her aid—he hadn’t slept the thirteen hours and thirty eight minutes it had taken to rescue her from hill country. With little warning, he’d packed a backpack, punched out of Jersey with his Jeep. Gas station coffee, cigars, and a stashed bottle of Jack Daniel’s under the front seat had found her, swept her up in a kiss and concern, and whisked her back to Hoboken.

And in true Logan fashion, he’d kept under wraps his intentions until that check hit the mailbox. Or, rather—a Snapchat had showed up on his phone. Ecstatic, a heavily filtered and stickered snap had made him smile—and she’d almost dropped her phone. Hadn’t been not a walking mess of flustered and flattered, doe-eyed and dreamwalking since he’d announced he would not only be helping her scout out her new rig, but paying the difference for whatever pink slip she came to acquire.

“It’s just money, darlin’—I got plen’y.”

Mistruth, she knew—Logan worked hard on a barely-livable wage working logs, but, despite any attempt to argue over shared chili cheese fries and rootbeer floats, she’d relented. Hands tossed in the air. He, after all, had money saved. Couldn’t think of a better investment.

“Gotta get my girl into something safer than a fucking Hyundai Tuscon.”

“Logan. I really think it’s fine—“ Hunger burns at the base of her spine. Her feet are near bleeding in wedge heels, and it may as well be sun surface degrees standing on the blacktop in jeans and a Greatest Showman Lip Sync t-shirt. The turquoise squash blossom necklace around her neck is heavy and slick with perspiration from the back of her neck—also a gift from Logan, for Hanukkah. Presented before her family as a grand gesture of vested interest and traditional courtship, it was as real as God. Expensive. Heavy.

His look is hard, wrinkled as his eyes scale over her. “You got somewhere to be?” Nodding to the phone in her hand, “You’re checkin’ the time like it’s your lover, honey. Secret boyfriend I don’t know about?” His brows wag teasingly for a second, pink flashing to life on her cheeks.

“I just think if we’re not gonna buy the car, we shouldn’t be making poor Phil run back and forth,”

They’d already discussed this on the test drive. Phil was two things, if not honest—a jackass, and completely incompetent when it came to the issue of Subaru Outback’s with the 3.6r. Logan and his copious amounts of obsessive access to Google, married with over 200 years of tinkering on anything with wheels, had determined every single known mechanical complaint about these damn wagons—and, once she’d decided which direction to go, had made it his life’s purpose to plague every single online forum to know. He’d asked questions. Googled schematics and blueprints. Had test driven no less than six vehicles, finding faults with all of them. Salespeople aside.

His nose wrinkles, snorting dismissively. “The fuck I won’t,” hands fall from his pockets to the frame of the Outback, Logan bending over the motor to consider the hum of the serpentine belt, “ain’t gonna kill him to make some steps when his ass is gettin’ fat in an office chair, darlin’. B’sides, haven’t decided if we’re buying this or not—not fully.” In other words, I’m having fun pullin’ his chain, baby.

Sighing, she drops her purse off her shoulder and reaches to unclasp the necklace from off her neck. Logan clocks her shift, brows furrowed—moves behind to undo it himself, thick fingers warm and calloused as they gently brush the curls on the back of her neck. Heat ebbs from him like a long black train, breath warm and heady on the back of her neck.

Handing the necklace over her shoulder, his arm snakes around her waist. Tugs her close. Smiling against her flittering pulse, his hand covers the necklace in hers as a low hum of approval rummages around the adamantium in his chest.

“You’re hot,” he hums. And she isn’t sure if he means overheated or otherwise, but opts into the adjective game.

“It’s a hundred degrees,” and that’s no lie. Gently tipping her head to the side, she smiles as his tongue gently lathes the spot behind her ear, “I’m in jeans and heels, Wolvie honey.” Her hand reached to brush fingers through his hair, tempted to pull. “And I know for damn sure you’re not buying this Outback. You don’t like Phil.”

Gut punched and pleasured, his growl is animalistic. Bestial. “How’d ya know that?”

Her lilt is light, teasing as her hips cant back against his pelvis. “You didn’t like him the second he slapped eyes on my tits in this shirt, that’s how,” her sigh is exaggerated, “and—for a guy over two centuries old, you don’t exactly have a poker face, Logan.”

His laugh is hard, rough around his chest. She can feel it rattle down her spine, chasing the heat that pools in the cradle of her womb. Every nerve is alive as he snugs up his arm around her waist, fingers tracing the buckle of her belt. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gently sways her back and forth.

She continues, “I am also waiting for you to cash in on that promise for lunch,” glancing down, “you can obviously see I’m withering away here, Wolverine.” Trying not to giggle as his hands move to her hips, nipping at her skin, his fingers gently slip into the pockets of her jeans as he angles his head to brush his nose against the shell of her ear.

“Got a better idea, sunshine—how about we screw Felony Phil and his clunker of an Outback, and I take you outback for some product research, huh?”

She didn’t have to be asked twice. Sold.

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[bitbugbites-cod]

𝙹𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜, 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 | 𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Ghost's car sucks -- always breaking down at the worst times. This time, it broke down on Valentine's Day -- right as you were about to leave the house.

ao3 link

word count: ~1.3k

gender: fem! reader

cw: (light) ANGST, FLUFF // arguing lol

a/n: this was going to be longer and include smut, but I'm tired and going to bed so I might make a part two and post it tmr -- but who knows!

p.s. -- screw valentine's day i HATE being single

You said nothing. He said nothing. The two of you just sat.

You shifted in your seat, the leathery seat of the car sticking to your wet thigh, begging it to stay where it was placed. You didn’t comply. 

The man next to you in the driver’s seat, Simon, tapped the wheel, his chest puffing up, then down, with a repressed sigh. It annoyed you the way he never had anything to say – and it annoyed you even more the way he looked so fucking good while doing it.

It was a loud sigh, though. You were surprised you were even able to hear it – rain was thundering down, making loud thunks as it collided with the tinted glass that shielded you from the weather outside of Simon’s Jeep. Which, to note, is a busted-up, no-good piece of junk. It was originally a 2013 Wrangler model that he bought used, and no matter how many times it broke down, he always refused to buy a new car. You can’t begin to count how many times you’ve watched him grumble about it making a funny noise or not starting up before rolling up his sleeves and putting himself under the hood. 

He never understood why you hated it so much – and to be honest, you didn’t either. Your closest hypothesis was that you were sick of finding oil stains on all of his clothes – or that you were tired of trying to go on dates, only to find that his car had broken down. Once again.

This was the case for tonight, at least.

Finally, he spoke, his voice sounding a dry kind of deep. It was what attracted you to him in the first place, but right now, you swore it was the most aggravating sound on earth.

“Another night, then, ‘love.”

Your heart dropped in your chest, your eyes hardening as your emotions bubbled. You felt so angry, so sad, you couldn’t speak. You could barely even breathe. 

“Another night?” you repeated, a scoff threatening to escape your throat.

He paused for a moment, before speaking again. “What do you want me to–”

“It’s fucking Valentine’s Day, Simon.” 

He let out a frustrated laugh, his calloused hands slapping against the wheel. “Fuckin’ hell, I know that–”

“Great. You know that. So then you should also know that ‘another night’ is–”

“What do you want me to do? ‘Huh? What should I do, ‘love? get out the car, pick you up ‘an carry you to the bloody place m’self?”

Adrenaline shot through your body, your blood racing through your veins as your eyes began to water. All you wanted was to go out for Valentine’s Day. To feel cared about. To know he loves you.

Grabbing the car door handle, you thrust the door open. The rain got louder, and without skipping a beat, you threw yourself out into the cold, wet atmosphere, slamming the door shut. You heard him yell after you, but you didn’t stop. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, trying not to slip as your heels collided with the slippery concrete. You were going back to the house, inside, where you would foreseeably spend the rest of the night in bed, sobbing, with him on the couch.

You fucking hated this. You hated how disappointing this was. How disappointed you were.

As you reached the front door of your shared home, you held the freezing key in hand, shaking as you attempted to unlock the lock. You regretted dressing up for tonight, wishing you spent your time on anything else instead. Anything.

You heard another Jeep door slam shut, small sloshes of puddles being brutally murdered by aggressive stomps, and you knew Simon and his stupid, heavy-ass boots were making their way toward you. 

God, him and his walk. Even that was driving you up the wall now.

“Y/N.” his voice boomed, fighting the thick, infuriating volume of the rain.

Believing in communication, you ignored him again. 

Nothing good would come from your mouth right now, and god forbid you opened it, he would learn so many new things about himself.

You would save it for later – when you didn’t want to verbally rip him limb by limb.

But then you felt his drenched hand on your shoulder, droplets of water flowing down your jacket sleeve.

“Y/N,” he repeated, and suddenly, something inside you snapped. 

You started to speak, anger coating your words, but you weren’t able to finish. “The ‘fuck do you want, Simo–” 

Within a millisecond, you watched him lean over, scoop you up by the legs, and start carrying you bridal style down the street. 

You paused, saying nothing as he carried you. He said nothing, too. The both of you said nothing together.

It was like something had reset in your brain – you went from being angry, to confused, to shocked. You had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he was thinking. Hell, you had no idea what you were even thinking – you were so taken aback, that you weren’t even sure you had any thoughts left in your head. Which, is a miracle, considering how many new adjectives you came up with about two minutes prior, for this situation alone. 

You felt the rain soak your skin and outfit, some of it landing on Simon first, sliding down his broad, suited shoulders before coating you. His walk was rough and rugged, you bouncing slightly in his arms as he moved the two of you down the sidewalk. Despite how angry you were a couple of minutes ago, you were being calmed by the second just feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the pumping of his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing.

“Simon?” you spoke, sounding cautious.

He said nothing, only looking down, his brown eyes meeting yours as his wet, blonde hair messily stuck to his forehead in small strands. He looked as dead on the inside as usual, but there was something about his stare this time, that let you know he was sorry. It was almost sheepish, in an intimidating way. 

He is a confusing man.

Nonetheless, you went on with what you wanted to ask. “What…are you doing?”

“I’m walkin’ us to the date.” he said in a gruff, matter-of-fact way.

…

Silence passed between the two of you once more, before you started to crack a small smile, softly laughing at the man’s resolve to solve the problem. 

“I don’t think we’re ‘gonna make it there in time, ‘Monnie.” you said, playing along.

“I said another night, did’n I? We’re gonna get there – ‘just another night.” he quipped. 

You hid your face in your hands, trying to hold back your amusement. It was safe to say that you weren’t angry anymore, at least.

“We’re ‘gonna get hypothermia by then, I think, love?” you replied.

You watched him grin a little, his head moving back up to watch the area in front of him as he walked. “We’ll make a stop at the clinic after, then.”

You laughed, sighed, then laughed again thinking about the stupidity of the situation you were in right now. Simon laughed a little, too.

You started slapping his soaked dress shirt playfully, listening as it made a squelching noise before speaking. “Alright, alright, can we have the date at home instead so that we can skip the whole hospitalization part?”

“I suppose.” Simon replied lightheartedly before slowing to a stop, glancing down at you, changing directions, and walking back towards the direction of the house.

A grin was stuck on your face as the two of you passed by the glowing streetlamps and houses, all while the rain continued to pour down. Suddenly, you weren’t feeling as cold anymore, either – you were glad to be in Simon’s arms.

“You make things really fucking complicated, you know?”

“I know,” he answered.

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Five - The Emerald City

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous chapter.

The library is drab and dreary as usual. It is quiet except for the usual sneeze or cough that comes out of studying students. 

Dina and Jesse sit in the chairs across from you, their brows furrowed as they try and understand their homework. They’re taking AP Physics together which they both agree was a mistake. 

You, on the other hand, are still struggling with your math homework. No matter how many times you did the equation, you still got the answer wrong. It’s gotten to the point where you’ve had to switch the paper you were writing on. The old one had gone gray with how many times you erased and wrote over it. 

The doors to the library swing open, giving you a glimpse of the free souls roaming the hallways. 

Abby and Ellie pull up chairs and sit at the table with you three. Their faces are slick with sweat dirt, they’re wearing their softball uniforms, and they have their bags in hand. They drop their bags with a thud and place their sweaty foreheads on the table.

“Long practice?” Dina asks, looking up from her physics homework for the first time. 

Ellie grunts, giving you all the answers that you need. 

Your parents were always too busy with work to put you in anything recreational. The closest thing you did to a sport was ride your bike everywhere. Now that your bike is gone, all that there’s left to do is walk. 

Ellie lifts her head, “You know what would make me feel better? The Crab Pot.” 

Abby sighs at the thought of seafood. She likes it but less than she likes Mexican food. 

“That touristy place in Miners Landing?” Abby asks. 

Ellie nods her head with a smirk on her face at the thought of seafood. 

“I don’t think they doordash,” Jesse sighs. He too would like some seafood. 

“I’m not using doordash. I’m driving down there.” Ellie waves her keys at the group

Dina looks at Ellie, confused, “I thought your dad took your keys away because you threw a party again?”

“One car ride with me in the morning and he practically begged me to take my keys back.” 

“Road trip?” Jesse suggests, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Ellie’s keys.

“Road trip,” Ellie nods.

Ellie's car is a bright red Jeep Wrangler with an extra row of seating. It’s the perfect vehicle for a family of six or in this case, five teenagers on their way to Seattle. 

Jesse turns to you. “You better buckle up. Ellie’s a bit of a-” he’s interrupted by the jolt of the car. 

“Sorry!” Ellie exclaims. “I didn’t see the curb!” 

“A scary driver,” Jesse finishes his thought before he’s sitting up right in his seat. 

Lakeview becomes a blur the farther away the five of you ride along. You don’t have room to comment on Ellie’s driving as you don’t have a license or a car. She narrowly avoids running over a few trash cans and parked cars but soon enough you make it on the freeway. 

Cars honk and pass Ellie as she tries to get over a lane. You feel bad for her. You can tell that she’s trying by the way she keeps checking her surroundings but cars around her aren’t giving her any grace. Dina’s got one hand on Ellie’s thigh, a reverse of what people usually expect. Dina’s trying her hardest to calm Ellie down and by the looks of it, it’s working. 

Ellie merges off the freeway and you’re taken aback by the beauty of Seattle. The greenery that surrounds all the skyscrapers and modern buildings is mother nature’s way of saying that she is ‘still here.’ 

Ellie pulls into the parking lot of Miner’s Landing and sighs with relief. “We made it.”

You notice that Abby hasn’t said anything the entire drive. She throws a hoodie over her dirty softball uniform and you nearly roll your eyes. Owen’s name is sprawled across the back in gold letters. 

You get out of the car and follow the Seattle experts onto the pier. Being here almost reminds you of home. If you just close your eyes, the salty air in and creaking wood under your feet could transport you back to those countless beach days. 

Abby grabs your hand and pulls you along with them. Your day dreaming of home has led you to be a bit behind the group. 

Your mind goes blank and for a split second you can feel your heart give a jolt at your skin on Abbys. This doesn’t mean anything, right? She just didn’t want you to get left behind. 

The two of you catch up with the rest of the group already waiting for the next available table. Ellie and Jesse are talking about the latest comic book Ellie bought with her allowance while Dina braids a few strands of Ellie’s hair. 

Abby let go of your hand a while ago but you can still feel the way her soft skin felt upon yours. You sit there, in silence as you watch her leg bounce up and down. Somethings wrong, it’s been evident ever since she made her way into the library but you haven’t had the chance to ask her. 

“Hey,” Dina waves her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention. “Isn’t this your first time at Miners Landing?” 

“This is my first time in Seattle actually. I saw a little bit as we drove in, but I haven’t actually had the chance to explore.” 

Dina’s eyes widen and a smile grows on her face. “We have to show you around!” 

The hostess calls Dina’s name and escorts you all to the back of the restaurant. It’s illuminated by the light outside and the yellow lights above. The table is covered in a red and white gingham tablecloth and a smaller white tablecloth for extra protection. 

Menus are placed on the table and the hostess leaves, saying that your waitress will be out in a few. As promised, a waitress with a blue pixie cut comes out with a smile on her face. 

After you order your food and drinks, the waitress collects your menus. An old jazz song is playing softly in the background while other patrons enjoy their food. You observe the people walking through the big windows in the front of the restaurant. A little girl drops her ice cream, an old man almost trips but is saved by his grandson, a mom uses her kids forward, and a man that almost looks like a famous actor trips his untied shoelaces. 

Abby’s phone starts ringing and she sighs as she takes it out of her pocket. Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and you all peer at Abby nervously. 

“Hello, Owen,” Abby says enthusiastically. 

Abby excuses herself from the table and walks outside. As soon as Abby’s foot is out of the door, your food comes. You could care less about your clam chowder as you watch Abby through the big windows. The blue and gold hoodie she’s wearing makes her stand out of the crowd. 

Her brows are furrowed and she’s talking with her hands as if Owen can see her right now. Parents shield their children's ears as they look at Abby with a mixture of concern and caution. 

“I fucking hate Owen,” Ellie shakes her head as she breaks apart a crab leg.

“Don’t we all,” Jesse sighs. 

This catches your interest and for the first time this evening, you pay attention to the conversation happening around you. 

“You guys don’t like Owen?” you ask. 

“Who does? He’s an asshole and he’s a horrible boyfriend,” Dina jabs her fork into a potato. 

“Then why don’t you guys tell Abby that? Maybe that’ll wake her up a bit.”

“Don’t you think we’ve tried? They’re that type of couple that’s on and off again. I thought the last time that they broke up it would be for good but I was mistaken. They were back together two weeks later and they’ve been dating ever since.” Ellie shared with you as you leaned in closer. 

“The point is that we’ve given up on them breaking up for good,” Dina leans back in her chair, a look of pity on her face. 

You let this information sink in as you play with the vegetables in your clam chowder. You knew that Abby and Owen’s relationship was a bit odd from what you’ve seen, but you never knew they were one of those couples. 

You pitied Abby right about now. If you could, you would switch places with her in a heartbeat. She looked like she needed a break from whatever was going on. Her hair was a bit messy, partly from practice but also from pulling her hair out of frustration as she yelled into her phone. Before your mind could process what you were doing, you got up from the table, but Jesse put a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s better if we let them yell at each other. Trust us, we’ve tried everything,” Jesse says. 

Abby hangs up the phone and sighs, looking at herself in the window, she sighs. She undoes her braid and ruffles her hair, trying her best to make it look more presentable. 

The food on the table has now gone cold as Abby walks back in and takes her seat next to you. She takes a bite of her food and shudders as it goes down. She doesn’t say anything as you all look at her. 

She looks up, ignoring your stares, “We should go on the Ferris wheel. I’ll pay.” 

Abby takes out two one hundred dollar bills and places it on the table and gets up, not waiting for you to join her. You look at everyone, puzzled. It’s like staring at a mirror as they too look puzzled. You grab your stuff and get up, following Abby out of the restaurant and to the huge Ferris wheel. 

Its lights flicker on as the sun sets, emitting a green and red glow across your face. You say ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ as you cut through people to catch up with Abby at the front of the line. 

The five of you sit in the gondola. The caged windows provide an obstructed view of Seattle on one side and the bay on the other. Abby peers out of the window, her nose almost touching the metal, and for a split second, you see a smile wash over her face. You blink and then it’s gone.

Next Chapter.

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!

[bsautosuppliess]

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[inky-writing]

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Read Book I here!

Warnings: hospital, sickness

Word count: 2,811

Book II - Chapter 1: Whispering Nightmares

The first week of september arrived with the soft chill of autumn, the morning dew clinging to the grass as the sun rose over the small city of Forks. Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her room, adjusting the strap of her shoulderbag. She smoothed her long black skirt, already feeling a touch of nervousness creep into her chest.

“First day back,” she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath.

Downstairs, the smell of Charlie’s coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint sounds of the radio playing in the kitchen. The familiar rhythm of the Swan household was comforting, a welcome distraction from the day ahead.

Bella was already at the table when Y/N came down, nursing a mug of tea and still looking half-asleep.

“Ready?” Y/N asked as she grabbed an apple from the counter.

Bella shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I don’t expect senior year to be much better than last year.”

Y/N chuckled softly, biting into the apple as Charlie walked in, his police uniform neatly pressed. He gave them both an encouraging smile and a thumb up.

“You girls will do fine,” he said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“Thanks, Dad,” Bella muttered.

As they stepped outside, Y/N glanced at her forest-green Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway. It still felt surreal, driving the car her uncle and late father had worked on together. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she started the engine and waited for Bella to climb in beside her.

The drive to Forks High School was quiet, the familiar roads lined with towering trees. Bella stared out the window, lost in thought, while Y/N focused on the road ahead.

The high school parking lot was already buzzing with activity when they arrived. Y/N parked the Jeep near the edge of the lot, and the two girls stepped out, greeted by a breeze.

“Here we go again,” Bella said with a sigh.

Y/N spotted Angela and Jessica near the entrance and gave them a small wave. Angela smiled warmly and waved back, while Jessica was already too engrossed in telling her about the last gossips to notice.

The day passed in a blur of new schedules, and the low hum of gossip that filled the halls. Y/N tried to focus on her classes, but her mind kept wandering. She again couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though every time she turned around, no one was there.

During lunch, she sat with Bella, Angela, Eric and Mike, the latter was overly enthusiastic about recounting his summer adventures. Y/N half-listened, her attention occasionally drifting to the Cullen table, though only Alice and Edward were present. She hadn’t seen Carlisle since the end of summer, and the thought of their conversations during those warm months brought a small smile to her face.

Later that day, Y/N had an appointment with the school counselor, Mrs. Hollis. The small office smelled faintly of lavender, a diffuser humming softly on the corner desk. Mrs. Hollis was a kind woman in her early fifties, her short, blond hair framing a face that always seemed to radiant empathy.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Hollis began, folding her hands on the desk, “it’s your senior year. Have you given much thought to what comes next?”

Y/N hesitated, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “I have, sort of. I’ve been thinking about medical school.”

Mrs. Hollis raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “That’s a big decision. Any particular reason?”

“I guess I’ve always been interested in helping people,” Y/N said. “And after everything that’s happened… I feel like I want to do something meaningful.”

Mrs. Hollis nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a noble path, but also a challenging one. Have you thought about where you’d like to apply?”

“I’m not sure yet. Carlis…, uh, Dr. Cullen. He’s been helping me look into some options. He’s been really helpful.”

“Well, it sounds like you have a solid start.”

The conversation continued for another twenty minutes, with Mrs. Hollis offering advice on college applications and scholarships. By the time Y/N left the office, she felt a little more grounded.

Evening

Y/N joined Bella and Charlie at the diner, a cozy spot they frequented for its simple yet comforting meals. The chatter of other diners filled the air as the three of them settled into their usual booth.

Charlie was in a good mood, recounting a humorous story from his day at the station. Bella listened with a faint smile, while Y/N picked at her fries, her mind still lingering on her conversation with Mrs. Hollis.

As they ate, Y/N glanced around the diner and caught sight of Carlisle walking in, his coat neatly folded over his arm. He exchanged a few polite nods with the staff before approaching the counter to place an order.

He looked over his shoulder and met Y/N’s gaze, offering her a warm smile. She felt her cheeks flush slightly as she returned the gesture.

As Carlisle left the diner, coffee in hand, Y/N found herself wondering if their paths would cross again soon. Something about him always made her feel… steadier, like a lighthouse while she was lost at sea.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, but as Y/N lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this year would be different.

That same night

The clock on Y/N’s nightstand read 3:07 a.m. when her eyes flew open, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drumbeat in her ears. Sweat clung to her skin as her gaze darted around the dimly lit room, her body trembling from the aftershocks of a nightmare that felt too vivid, too real.

She had been standing in a forest shrouded in mist, the trees towering above her like sentinels. A low growl reverberated through the air, and when she turned, she saw glowing red eyes staring at her from the darkness. Shadows twisted and contorted, forming shapes that lunged at her with outstretched claws. She tried to run, but her legs felt attached to the ground.

And then, suddenly, the scene shifted. The forest melted away, and she found herself in a circular stone chamber, cold and oppressive. Figures in dark cloaks surrounded her, their faces obscured, save for one man with piercing, almost hypnotic eyes. He reached out, whispering words she couldn’t understand, and as his hand touched her forehead, a searing pain shot through her skull, white-hot and unbearable.

That was when she woke up.

Her body jerked upright, but the disorientation only grew worse. The room was in chaos, her desk chair was overturned, books scattered across the floor, and the curtains billowed inward as a cold breeze swept through the open window.

The pain in her head was excruciating, a sharp, stabbing sensation that felt like it was splitting her skull in two. She cried out, clutching her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Stop, please… stop,” she whimpered, her voice breaking.

The noise must have startled Charlie and Bella awake. Moments later, she heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs, followed by a frantic knock on her door.

“Y/N?!” Charlie’s voice called out, laced with panic. “What’s going on? Open up!”

Y/N couldn’t answer. The pain was too much, her body curling in on itself as she buried her face in her hands.

The door swung open, and Charlie rushed in, with Bella close behind him. His face paled when he saw her on the floor, trembling and sobbing.

“Oh, God, Y/N,” Charlie breathed, dropping to his knees beside her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Bella stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the overturned furniture and the eerie chill in the room. “I—I’ll get her some water,” she stammered, disappearing down the hall.

Charlie gently placed a hand on Y/N’s head, but she flinched at the touch. “Kiddo, it’s me,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’re gonna fix this.”

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled sob.

Bella returned with a glass of water, but Charlie shook his head. “This isn’t normal. We need to get her to the clinic.”

Carefully, he lifted Y/N into his arms, cradling her like a child as she continued to clutch her head. She felt fragile, as if the slightest jostle would shatter her entirely.

The drive to the clinic was a blur. Charlie’s police cruiser sped through the empty streets of Forks, its sirens cutting through the silence of the early morning. Bella sat in the backseat with Y/N, the later’s head on her knes, though she wasn’t sure if Y/N even noticed.

When they arrived, Charlie carried Y/N inside, calling out for help. Dr. Carlisle Cullen appeared almost immediately, his expression shifting from calm professionalism to genuine concern when he saw Y/N’s state.

“What happened?” Carlisle asked, motioning for Charlie to place Y/N on a gurney.

“She woke up screaming,” Charlie explained, his voice tight with worry. “She’s been complaining about headaches for a while, but this… this is something else.”

Carlisle nodded, his sharp eyes scanning Y/N as he gently checked her vitals. She was barely conscious now, her body limp except for the occasional twitch of her fingers.

“I’ll run some tests,” Carlisle said. “She’ll need to stay here for observation.”

Charlie hesitated, glancing at Bella. “You stay with her,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I need to call her school and let them know she won’t be there for a few days. And… I’ll call Harry and Sue. They should know about this.”

Bella nodded, her throat tight as she watched Carlisle wheel Y/N away.

A few hours later

Y/N woke hours later, the sterile white walls of the clinic room slowly coming into focus. Her head still throbbed, though the pain was duller now, like an ache settling in her bones.

“Y/N?” Bella’s voice was soft, pulling her from the fog.

She turned her head slowly, her gaze meeting Bella’s. For a moment, Bella froze, her heart skipping a beat. Y/N’s eyes were a deep, unnatural purple, almost black, their color shimmering faintly in the dim light.

Y/N blinked, confusion etched across her face. “Bella?”

Bella forced a smile, pushing aside her panic. “Yeah, I’m here. How are you feeling?”

“I… I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, her voice hoarse. “What happened?”

“You had a really bad headache,” Bella said, carefully avoiding any mention of her eyes. “Carlisle said you’ll be okay, but he wants to keep you here overnight to make sure.”

Y/N nodded weakly, her head sinking back into the pillow. “Thanks for staying.”

“Of course, anything,” Bella said softly.

As Y/N drifted back to sleep, Bella sat beside her, her mind racing. She didn’t know what was happening to her cousin, but one thing was clear—this was far beyond anything they could explain away.

Two days later

The morning sunlight felt almost too bright as Y/N stepped out of the clinic. She leaned heavily on Charlie’s arm for support, her legs still shaky after two days of rest and medications. Each step felt like a monumental effort, but the cool breeze on her face was a welcome reprieve after the atmosphere of the clinic.

Behind her, Carlisle stood at the doorway, watching her leave with an unreadable expression. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his white coat, but they were shaking, and his mind was anything but calm.

He had felt her pain. Not just seen it in her expression or read it in her medical vitals, he had felt it deep within himself. The memory of that connection gnawed at him, even though it had been fleeting, disappearing almost as soon as he’d acknowledged it.

Carlisle’s jaw clenched as he tried to make sense of the sensation. It was unnatural, inexplicable. Yet the moment he had begun to dwell on it, the feeling had vanished, slipping through his mind like water through his fingers. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping the clinic’s empty hallway, and a wave of unease washed over him.

When they arrived home, Charlie opened the front door, leading Y/N inside as if she were made of glass. She offered him a weak smile, trying to assure him that she wasn’t as fragile as she seemed, but even she wasn’t convinced.

“Go straight to bed,” Charlie instructed, his tone kind. “I stocked your room for now, stacked everything up so it’s out of the way. You can organize it later. I didn’t know where you wanted everything.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating the effort despite the exhaustion clouding her mind.

“I’ll go grab dinner,” Charlie added, already reaching for his car keys. “You want the usual?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading out the door. Y/N climbed the stairs slowly, gripping the banister for support. When she reached her bedroom, she was relieved to see it had been tidied to the best of Charlie’s ability. The furniture was back in place, and the scattered books and objects had been piled neatly against the walls.

She sank onto her bed, letting out a long breath as she laid back against the pillows. For a moment, she let her eyes close, hoping the rest would quiet the faint ache still pulsing in her temples.

And that’s when she heard it.

A whisper.

At first, she thought it was her imagination, a remnant of her nightmare or a side effect of the medication. But the sound persisted, faint but distinct. It was a language she didn’t understand, the words smooth and rhythmic, like a chant.

Y/N opened her eyes, sitting up slowly as her heart began to race.

“Hello?” she called out hesitantly, her voice shaky.

No response.

The whispers faded, only to return seconds later, more insistent this time. She clutched her head, wondering if it was just another trick of her mind. But the sound wasn’t coming from inside her head, it was coming from somewhere in the room.

Pushing herself off the bed, Y/N scanned the space, her eyes darting from corner to corner. The whispers grew louder, almost guiding her movements as she checked under her bed, behind the desk.

Finally, her attention landed on her wardrobe. The large piece of furniture stood against the far wall. Kneeling down, Y/N hesitated before reaching underneath it, her fingers brushing against something cool and metallic.

She pulled it out carefully, holding it up to the light.

It was a necklace, unlike anything she had ever seen before. The chain was thin but sturdy, crafted from what looked like tarnished silver. At the center hung a pendant with an intricate design, its edges adorned with tiny, delicate engravings that looked almost like runes. The centerpiece was a purple stone, an amethyst, that glinted softly in the light.

Y/N stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. It didn’t look like Bella’s birthday gift; this was much older, almost ancient. Her fingertips brushed the amethyst, and for a brief moment, a strange warmth spread through her chest. The whispers stopped, leaving a deafening silence in their wake.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the necklace, but the sound of the front door opening jolted her back to reality.

“Y/N?” Bella’s voice called from downstairs.

Panicking, Y/N stuffed the necklace into the pocket of her hoodie and quickly climbed back onto her bed, pulling the covers over herself just as Bella knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Y/N said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Bella peeked her head in, her brow furrowing. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Y/N lied, her fingers brushing against the hidden necklace in her pocket.

“Charlie’s got dinner downstairs,” Bella said, stepping further into the room. “You want me to bring you a plate?”

“No, I’ll come down,” Y/N said quickly. “I just need a minute.”

Bella nodded, though she still looked concerned. “Okay. But don’t push yourself, okay? You’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N managed a small smile as Bella left the room. Once she was alone again, she pulled the necklace out of her pocket, staring at it with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Where had it come from? And why did she felt like it belonged to her?

Book II - Chapter 2 >>>

Tag list: @inky-bonnie

[faun-the-fawn77]

Prologue - "𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀"

"True that I saw her hair like the branch of a tree A willow dancing on air before covering me" ☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆ Word Count: 1.5k Chapter Warnings: Blood, swearing Note(s) at the bottom! <Next: Chapter 1>

It was a rare sunny day in the little town of Sitka. While the heat barely reached 65 degrees, it was still hot enough for the residents to feel sweat accumulating amongst their skin. The seagulls were circling above, screeching with annoyance at the lack of fish surfacing. Boats heading in to unload and others heading out to set gear and bring back what they can get. Sitka was a small town with a population of a little more than 8,000. Sadly, it was tourist season so all of downtown was crowded with out-of-state people looking for souvenirs to bring back. Since everyone was busy, that meant most trails(besides Totem Park) were more open.

Y/N was busy putting together her hiking pack for her trip up Thimbleberry. She wanted to make it up to Heart Lake for lunch and rest for a bit before coming back down for the day. The essentials she usually has on her were:

Phone, battery pack with charging cables, headphones, water bottle with more ice than water, protein bars, bug spray, bear spray and whistle, a speaker, a pocket knife, a first aid kit, and a change of clothes.

This time, since she was going to be gone for longer than normal, she had also added her iPad with the stylus, a lunch box that had more than just the protein bars, one more set of clothes, an extra pair of shoes, a hoodie and a blanket big enough to sit on.

She made sure to tie a rain coat around her waist in case it decides to rain(it usually does 360 out of 365 days a year). While the weather app on her phone did say it was going to be cloudy with sun all day, rain has a tendency to show up when unwanted. She sprayed herself with the can of bug spray to avoid any pesky mosquitos from biting her, making sure her hair was out of the way.

Her outfit for today was a thick strapped tank top and sports bra, thermal leggings underneath cargo pants, thick socks, and chunky hiking boots. She double checked her pack, making sure her pocket knife was in a pocket on her pants, and that her water bottle and the bear spray were easily accessible. Her bluetooth speaker was hooked onto her backpack and fully charged.

She huffed as she picked up the pack and lugged it out her front door. She made sure her cat was fed and had plenty of water before she took off for her day trip.

"I'll see you later, stinker." Petting the feline, shestepped out and locked the door to her house.

The house itself, while not that amazing outwardly, meant everything to Y/N. It's been standing from the early 1800's and passed down throughout generations in her family. Making sure the knob couldn't turn, Y/N picked up her gear and headed towards the Jeep Wrangler sitting in the gravel driveway. She unlocked the vehicle, stuffing the pack into the passengers seat, and closing the door.

The drive to Thimbleberry was bit long for a town that only had 14 miles of road from one end to the other. The scenery passed by in a blur of green and blue, the trees swaying and the ocean waves crashing against the shore. The concrete structures of whales in Whale Park were being climbed upon by kids and finally the lot for Thimbleberry was seen. Two other cars were parked closest to the entrance which Y/N paid no mind to.

Walking around the front of her car to grab her pack, Y/N unpocketed her phone to connect it to her speaker. Usually playing something loud was enough to scare off any of the bears who decides to wander too close to the trails. Putting on her 'Classic Rock' playlist, she grabbed her pack and hoisted it up on her shoulders, making sure to tighten the straps.

The walk through Thimbleberry was scenic and relaxing. Y/N stopped a few times to take pictures of whatever she found interesting and what she'll probably draw later. She picked a handful of salmonberries to munch on as well. Finally, Heart Lake was in her sights. It was a huge lake surrounded by evergreen trees. The water was clear and you could see the bottom full of colored rocks. A wooden dock was built out a few feet from shore and a two person boat with oars was tied to a pole on the dock.

Y/N walked a bit more till she found a small grassy area near the lake shore. A giant spruce tree was at the edge of the small grass area and that is where she shucked off her pack and crouched down. Unclipping her blanket, she rolled it out to sit on.

"Maybe I can nap for a bit before heading out..." She mumbled to herself. She kept an arm looped through one of her pack's straps and settled against the thick trunk of the tree. The speaker was blasting out the song 'Highway to Hell' as she fell into a deep sleep.

The feeling of falling was what abruptly woke Y/N up. Her brain didn't seem to register the fact that she was free falling through the air until she tried to sit up. A scream tore through her throat as wind whipped by. Her arms immediately clutched the closest thing to her, her hiking pack. Closing her eyes, she hoped this would be a quick and easy death. Unfortunately for her, she didn't die. Her back was cut up by the smaller branches of the trees she is currently crashing through.

Her spine made contact with a thick branch and she could feel the wind get knocked from her lungs. Letting the hiking pack go, she curled up and landed roughly on the forest floor.

Breathing was difficult, but she pushed herself up to sit. She looked around to see if she could identify where she was, assuming she was still in her small town in Alaska.

It was dark. Looking up, she could see the full moon glaring back down. The stars were a lot clearer and twinkling against the dark blanket of the sky. The forest she was in was quiet. Actually, it was suspiciously quiet for someone who grew up surrounded by the woods.

Reaching for her pack, Y/N dragged it closer towards her and opened it. She grabbed the green kit full of medical supplies, opening it, and grabbing the bundle of bandages. She could feel the blood from the cuts on her back drying against the tank top that was surely shredded to pieces.

Taking off the piece of clothing was a chore itself. Her arms and torso were screaming in pain as she slid the torn up fabric off of her. She wrapped the bandages around her as best she could, stuffing the tank top into her pack for extra bandages in case.

Armed with only her pocket knife and gear, Y/N got up. Grunts of pain escaped her chapped lips and she could taste metal in her mouth, whether that was from blood or her tongue piercing, she did not know.

The song 'Paradise City' was now playing through her speaker. She almost forgot that she was supposed to be at Heart Lake. No sign of water nearby and no critters making noise was heard.

Y/N huffed, dragging her feet through the broken branches on the ground. Her brows furrowed as she listened intently for any kind of noise. The lack of forest fauna was concerning to her. There wasn't even any buzzing from mosquitos. Walking further into the dark woods, a faint screaming could be heard.

That was definitely human. Y/N picked up the pace, gripping her pocket knife tightly in one hand and the other was holding onto the strap of her pack.

The yelling intensified as she got closer. A spark of hope burst into her chest and now she was running. Closer and closer she finally broke through the trees into a clearing where a boy with burgundy hair was on the ground covered in wounds and a child, no older than 12, was glaring at the boy.

"What the fuck."

The two turned towards the foreign voice. Y/N stared back as she took in the scene. That's when she noticed the appearance of the 12(?) year old boy who was definitely not human. Everything about him screamed supernatural. Looking closer, she could see something printed in his eye.

"Sorry to interrupt but, do you two know where the fuck I am?"

The two slow blinked and, faster than Y/N could see, the white haired boy shot his arm out at her. She could feel something wrap around her. Her body was now hanging upside down with the blood rushing to her head.

"Your fight is with me! Leave her out of this!" The burgundy boy lunged at the kid, katana drawn and ready to hack the kid's head off in one swipe. Y/N almost passed out from shock. What language was that? And katana's?! Why is he attacking that kid?!

Wait...

Squinting her eyes, she took in the faces of the two.

Well, shit. She fell into Demon Slayer.

PROLOGUE IS DONE!!!! Hope you guys like this! I'm looking forward to writing this story!

TAGLIST:

@eris-rose-86

[octuscle]

Fuck man using this app whilst I'm currently so horny might be a mistake but please tell me this thing has a forced growth feature. I'm so bored of being small already I just want to become so fucking huge the only thing I can fit in is under wear, skin tight gym shorts at the most. I want my stench and B.O to instantly fill up a room and make lesser men fall to their knees.

I just wanna be forced to become a young insanely huge freakshow of a bodybuilder.

RIPPPPPP! In the middle of lunch, the seam of your jacket rips open across your back. The whole restaurant is looking at you. You barely look up from your plate, on which instead of a coq au vin there are now six boiled chicken breasts with rice. You struggle to free yourself from the shreds of your jacket without stopping to gulp down your food.

RIPPPPPP! Your biceps burst the sleeves of your shirt. With your mouth full, you mumble something like "sorry" and just rip the remnants of the sleeves off the rest of the shirt. You eat your food like a pig. The glass of Merlot is now a canister of protein shake. Your colleagues and business partners stare at you with open mouths. You pause for a moment and do a double biceps pose. Fuck, the bushes under your armpits stink like a horse stable. You take a deep breath and grin. PIIIIING! Two of your shirt buttons can no longer withstand your pectoral muscles as you inhale and fly through the air like projectiles. You stand up with difficulty, apologize again with your mouth full and spit food scraps around. On the way to the toilet, you let loose a huge protein fart. A quick look in the mirror… You can throw away the shirt. For the rest of lunch it must still hold out with torn sleeves and unbuttoned. While you first fart and then burp even louder, your boss comes in. Holds you a telling off, what that was for an impossible behavior on your part. He asks you to leave the restaurant discreetly through the back exit. And to report to him in the office tomorrow morning.You put your hand to your temple in an "Aye Sir". And you fart again as a farewell.

Your fancy Porsche convertible groans as you squeeze your body into the tight seat. Fuck, the car is much too small for you. The remnants of the clothes you're wearing on your body are much too small for you. You desperately need a change of clothes. In your gym there is a small corner where they sell fitness clothes. And the gym is nearby, so you drive the car there. The receptionist stares at you. This is actually a posh place for yuppies and influencers who want to keep fit. Not for the big lads like you. You ask if they have anything to wear in your size. The lady asks you if you speak English. You repeat your question with a heavy Russian accent.

The only thing they have here in your size are shorts that are frighteningly tight on your thighs. At least there are shoes and socks in size 14. You look good. You do another pose in front of the mirror. The passing visitors of the gym hold their noses. You smell your armpit again. Good honest pumper sweat. You want to go to the training area when you are asked for your membership card. You search for your wallet in the rags that used to be your suit pants. There it is. But Anatol Ivanovich is not a member here. Anatol is a member of Gold's Gym.

You love your Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. A car like you. Massive and bursting with power. And fortunately well ventilated for any passengers. As you roll into the parking lot in front of the gym, you and your car stick out. This is certainly a place for the big guys. But you're the biggest of them.

After the third set on the leg press, you take a deep breath. Yes, this is what a gym must smell like. Like burps. Like protein farts. Like sweat. Like testosterone. Just like you!

Found the pic of your new you @muscleaddictza

[erosmutt]

/ thinkin' bout﹒☆

﹒twilight baseball scene w/ ani﹒⌅

𖦹 accompanied by Supermassive Black Hole ⋆ Muse

his white jeep wrangler was splashed and streaked with mud as he pulled up to the empty field. you wondered how the hell you'd be able to play ball out in this. it wasn't raining (for once, considering you lived in Forks), but it was nasty from the storm that happened the night before. after coming to a stop, you wait patiently.

your door opened and your boyfriend, Anakin, had an excited grin on his face. "come on princess," he reaches over and unclicks your belt, then lifts you out of your seat, placing you on the muddy ground. "it's not that bad, trust me." he slams the door closed, then takes his baseball cap off and places it onto your head before walking off to the trunk.

you look down and step in place a few times, the squish of the mud making you grimace. the sound of metal clinking together was heard as Anakin retrieves the bats and balls out of the trunk, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "lighten up princess!" he says, a heavy hand coming down onto your shoulder, pulling you into him. "it's a good day to play ball."

"you and i have different ideas for a good day to play ball, i think." you mutter, walking with him. he chuckles. "get rid of whatever crawled up your ass, it's gonna be fun babes, i promise."

it was a wonder he wasn't cold in this god awful weather - wearing only a white pinstripe jersey and some jeans, not even an under shirt. mist gathered in tiny pricks on his arms as the two of you made your way to the middle of the field, his jeep fading out of view due to the fog.

once at his desired spot, he drops the bag and takes out a bat and ball, then walks to you. "about time i teach you how to pitch, princess." he smirks, positioning himself behind you and dropping a baseball into your hand. getting a feel for the weight of it, you make a face of disdain. "i don't think i'll ever get good at pitching, Ani."

Anakin just laughs and gives your hip an affectionate pat. "you got this baby." he urges. "just reel your arm back, and chuck."

you follow his instructions, but the ball doesn't go nearly as far as you hoped. he grins, then wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. "no worries princess, you'll get better at it soon." he leans down to press a kiss just below your ear. "mm, right?" he murmurs, lips soft against your skin. "what do i always say?"

leaning back into his touch, you smile a little, closing your eyes. "practice makes perfect." Anakin hums in response. "yeah it does baby, yeah it does." he smiles against your skin, lips moving further down your neck. "so let's get to it."

[little-star-bun]

Abby who pulls the seat out in the back of her jeep Wrangler that she loves almost more than you, forcing you to lay down as she spreads your legs, looking at the soaking wet spot on your crotch. Palming your pussy through your pants, soaking in all those moans and please for more. Kissing you til you can't breath before she unbuttons your jeans, pushing her hand down inside and rubbing you through your panties, watching your eyes rolls back as the windows fog up.

[hallietblr]

the after party is better than the party | j.fisher x reader

request: hi im new here and do you any imagine requests at this moment? and if you do can i request an jeremiah smut if you are okay with it btw i love your blog page and your writting thanks girl🥰🫶🏻

a/n: hi babe:) i was so excited to write this one, so thank you for the request! lots of love xx

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI!), oral (fem! receiving), mentions of alcohol consumption, swearing.

—

the loud music and the colourful led lights around the house with the red solo cup in my hands all were factors to the buzz that i was feeling. i giggled as i danced with a few girls that i just met.

my eyes travelled across the room to the wall where my golden retriever boyfriend stood with steven. steven was clearly drunk which was making jeremiah, who was the dd, laugh. our eyes connect and he offers his iconic sweet smile, he lifts the cup of water in his hand towards me as a cheers with a wink.

even though we’ve been dating for over a year, jeremiah fisher still makes my heart race and my cheeks flush with his pretty smile. i pull away from the dance floor and walk towards jeremiah and steven, stumbling slightly over my feet.

“what are you two doing?” i giggle as i approach them, jeremiah’s empty hand pulls me by my waist and holds me close to him, “hey gorgeous, we’re just chatting”

“it’s a party! you guys should be dancing with me.” i exclaim, before bringing my drink to my lips to take another sip.

the two laugh at my comment before jeremiah leans down to plant a soft kiss on my forehead, “what are you drinking?”

“probably something girly like a white claw” steven snickers while crushing his empty can and tossing into the nearby trash can. his eyes land on shayla before quickly excusing himself to go see her.

“it’s just some vodka cranberry” i answer before resting my chin on his shoulder, “you’re like really pretty.”

he smiles at me, “that’s all you, lover”

i shake my head at him before finishing my drink and throwing it out, “no, like you’re model level pretty. you know, i am so lucky to have you as my boyfriend!”

jeremiah places his hands on my hips and connects our lips. my arms subconsciously wrap around his neck and my fingers gently playing with his curly locks. his lips slowly start to travel towards my flushed cheek, then to my ear and then down to my jawline. i sigh happily, relaxing into his touch,

“do you wanna get out of here?” his whispers into my ear, “i promise the after party is better than the party”

i look up into his blue orbs, there’s a slight glimmer of lust in them and i nod, “yeah”

he grabs my hand and we walk away from the crowd of drunk teenagers. jeremiah squeezes my hand as we walk towards his red jeep wrangler. he opens the passenger door for me,

“alright, get in, my sweet girl” he tells me as i carefully climb into the seat. he pulls the seatbelt and leans over my lap to lock it in. as jeremiah straightens up, his thumb caress my cheek before pulling me into a kiss.

his soft lips make the butterflies in my stomach go into a frenzy and the slight pool in thong makes sitting uncomfortable. i shift in my seat and he notices before chuckling,

“soon baby” he promises before getting into the drivers seat.

the car ride feels like a life time as he drives us to my house, which was coincidentally across from his. his hand never left my upper thigh, his fingers drumming slightly to the music playing off the stereo,

“seems like you were having fun tonight,” jeremiah grins, “saw you dancing it up on the floor”

i laugh, “music is made for dancing, babe.”

“we also have that vodka cran to thank.” he mentions as he pulls up on my driveway.

the two of us walk into my house through the front door and head towards my bedroom on the second floor. luckily, both of my parents were away for the weekend due to needing to head back home briefly for a business meeting.

“are your parents home?”

i giggle, “no, they’re away for the weekend. so we can be as loud as we want.”

he smirks at me, “good.”

jeremiah opens my door and motions for me, i smile at him

“always a gentleman,” i say to him as he closes the door behind himself,

“anything for my girl.”

i sit on my bed and pull his wrist to sit next to me. i pull him into a kiss which quickly turns into a heated make out session. he carefully lays me down and situates himself to hover over me. our lips never disconnecting in the process.

my hands travelling from his large biceps and shoulders to his hair which i tug at, causing jeremiah to release a low moan,

“fuck that’s so hot.” i mumbled against his lips, he pulls away to remove his shirt and i quickly do the same. his eyes following my every move,

“fuck you’re so hot” he says back to me, reciting what i had just said moments ago before leaning down to kiss my neck and throat area. my hands stay busy in his locks as he sucks on a sensitive part, making me moan and buck my hips.

he licks the spot that he proudly marked me as his, “now everyone will know that you are mine.” he breathes out before continuing to kiss me down to my chest. jeremiah has one forearm supporting his weight above me, while the free hand effortlessly unclasps my yellow laced bra.

“is this okay?” he asks sweetly

no matter how many times we’ve had sex, he always makes sure that i’m okay. i nod quickly, his lips litter kisses across my chest and kisses my nipples, making me shudder from the pleasure. he eventually makes it to the waistband of my shorts, i lift my hips up so it’s easier for him to pull them down.

jeremiah plays with the edge of my matching yellow thong as me kisses my inner thigh, “fuck, baby, you’re so wet. is this all for me?”

i nod at him, pulling at his curls, “it’s all for you, jeremiah. please stop teasing.”

he chuckles, “always so needy for me.”

with that, he pulls down my thong and places a single kiss on the bundle of nerves making me moan loudly in response. i can feel his smile against my skin before he licks a long stride up my centre,

“you always taste so good,” he moans as he continues to eat me out. his tongue works his magic, sending my body into a bliss as he traces figure eights and sucks on my clit.

“jeremiah,” i cry out, tugging harder at his hair, “fuck, i’m close”

the knot in my stomach tightening as he moves faster to help me reach my orgasm, i let out a pornographic moan as he inserts two of his fingers into me. his fingers thrust quickly and harder into me making me pant.

“come on my tongue, baby.” was all that was needed before my legs started to shake and the knot inside releasing the waves of constant pleasure.

jeremiah continues to finger me through my orgasm as i slowly come down from the high. i breath heavily and brush my fingers through my hair, he smiles at me with evidence of my orgasm glistening on his lips.

he fiddled with his shorts before pulling them down with his boxers. his erection slapping his six pack, he sighs from the relief of his tight boxers. he grabs a condom from my nightstand drawer before carefully rolling it onto his length.

my heart rate and breathing patterns regulate by the time he returns back to me. he hovers over me with support from his hands that are next to my head, “ready, baby?”

“fuck yeah,” i breath out, he kisses me quickly before lining himself up. i open my legs wider for him to give better access, jeremiah lets out a low groan as he enters into me,

“holy shit, y/n, you feel so good.”

my back curves upwards in reaction to his thick cock stretching my inner walls out, “fuck, jeremiah!”

he slowly starts to thrust into me, the two of us in a panting and moaning mess. jeremiah lowers himself to get more contact with my body, our sweaty chests touching each other. he connects our lips before quickening the pace of his thrusts.

i grab onto his shoulders before slowly clawing his back, making him throw his head back in pleasure. his necklace dangles over me, this moment needed to be engraved in my memory forever.

jeremiah fisher, his built body with defined shoulders and chest muscles shining in the moonlight from my window, his head throw back which showing the small veins in his neck, and his necklace hanging in front of me.

“i’m close,” he moans out as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. i squeeze his shoulders, feeling close to my second orgasm. i can feel him feeling open mouthed kisses on my neck and his thumb rubbing harsh circles on my clit.

he kisses the edge of my lips, “fuck, i know you’re close, baby. i can feel you squeezing on my cock.”

i feel my legs starting to shake, “harder, jere”

his hips move slower but snap harder, the tip of his length hitting my sweet spot harder than before.

“that’s it, baby” he pants, “fucking come on my dick.”

i let out a high pitch moan as my toes curl, fingernails scrapping down his muscular back, and my back arching in pure pleasure. i feel myself squeezing harder around him which resulted in him also releasing into the condom.

he slowly thrusts into me while his hands brush out the hairs from my face, “you’re so amazing, y/n, truly.” he whispers before pulling out.

my muscles relax and my eyelids start feeling heavy, jeremiah soon gets up to throw out the condom while also pulling his boxers on.

i raise my head up from the pillow as he leaves my bedroom, in confusion, i call out, “jeremiah?”

within seconds he returns with two glasses of water and a warm towel. he hands me a cup and tells me to relax as he slowly cleans me up.

we both crawl under my blanket, his arm instinctively wrapping around my waist to pull me closer, “i love you, my sunshine.” he mumbles into my hair and kisses my bare shoulder,

“i love you too, baby”