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megalony · 6 months ago

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Exploding Emotions

As promised, this is the new Evan Buckley imagine I have been working on, I am very happy with this one and I hope you will all like it.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: While out on a call, an accident gives (Y/n) flashbacks to the night her husband got trapped beneath the fire truck and what happened to her while he was stuck.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, what have we got?"

The team clambered out the truck one by one, each sorting their gloves and reaching for their helmets while they followed after Bobby. The Captain led them away from the truck and towards the scene they were here to assist.

(Y/n) could feel her legs starting to ache and she was beginning to lag behind. This was their fifth call and they weren't even halfway through their shift yet, and they had come here straight after their last call. They hadn't been back to the station for a drink or a snack or had a moment's peace.

Added to the fact that this was an evening shift, (Y/n) felt like dropping down here and now in the middle of the road.

She shrugged on her florescent jacket and stood near Ravi, looking out at the scene.

Each of them could feel their shoulders sagging and a grimace flooded their faces in turn when they looked around.

A lorry had crashed at an intersection. The large metal lorry was now on its side right in the centre, with a mangled up car resting in front of the bonnet. There were at least four other cars scattered around who had either crashed together, hit posts or swerved and burst a tyre trying to get out of the firing line.

"Hen, Chim, head for the lorry and the collision car in the centre, those drivers will be the worst off. Everyone else, fan out around. If anyone can walk, guide them to safety and get them off the scene."

Bobby's orders fell upon deaf ears when (Y/n) looked at the scene ahead of her.

The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle and stand on end as a cold shiver passed through her blood. She could feel her lungs tightening and closing up and her eyes zoned in on the lorry.

It was the same crimson shade as the fire truck. Those bright headlights were shining in her direction, they were calling out to her.

It looked just like the scene over a year ago that (Y/n) had to endure watching over the news.

The scene that tore out her heart and made her feel like she was witnessing the end of the world with no way of helping. Being a firefighter meant it was in (Y/n)'s nature to help people. She wasn't used to sitting back and watching from the sidelines, unable to do anything at all. And when it had involved the one person who meant the entire world to her, everything else had become insignificant.

Dread clawed at (Y/n)'s lungs as she felt herself beginning to shake. It felt like a decade had passed since that night, but standing here, staring ahead at that crumpled lorry in the middle of the road, in the dead of night, (Y/n) suddenly felt as if the last year had evaporated into dust.

She felt like she had been transported back one year with her wish of being able to be on scene and do something to help. To look after Evan and get him out.

Was he there? Was Evan laid out on the concrete with one leg practically split apart and a hundred tons of metal crushing down on him? Was he pinned to the floor, unable to move in any direction? Was he screaming until his lips were blue and his lungs were on the verge of giving out? Was Evan in mass agony, violently screaming for someone to do something to help him when no one stepped forward to save him?

"(Y/n)? Everything okay?"

A quiet round of "He's not here," murmured beneath her breath, so quiet that her dad didn't catch a word.

But he could see by the faint, distant look in her constricted eyes and the trembling that set in her body that she wasn't here. She wasn't on scene with them, not mentally. Her mind had gone somewhere else and although he didn't know where, he could see she needed a few moments to come back to the present.

His eyes widened when he watched her suddenly stumble before she crashed down to her knees. Her arms were pinned around her waist with her head lolled to one side, but Bobby could see her eyes were intently focused on the scene ahead of them.

They couldn't see any of the number plates from this far away and there weren't any casualties yet or anyone they knew here on scene. So (Y/n) couldn't be panicking about having family or friends meddled up in this collision.

He hurriedly crouched down in front of her, moving his hands to hold her arms while he leaned his head to try and get within her line of sight. But even when he was in her view, it was like she was looking through him rather than at him. She wasn't here, she was lost.

"Honey, talk to me. Are you okay?"

Relief overtook Bobby when (Y/n) managed to nod her head. She could hear him. She hadn't collapsed in pain or mass agony, she wasn't having some kind of stroke or seizure or some sort of episode. Something was clearly going on, but it didn't seem to be a dire emergency.

Bobby couldn't be doing with any more emergencies. Not after this last year with Evan and all his operations on his leg and him and (Y/n) struggling to cope with those and a newborn baby. (Y/n) had only just come back to work from maternity leave while Evan's return to work date was still to be determined.

His daughter and son-in-law had been through enough.

"I just… I need- need a minute." Her voice sounded distant even to herself and she kept leaning her head to the right until she could look around her dad and stare back at the lorry that was looking more and more like a fire truck to her hazy eyes.

"You sit this one out, get back in the truck. I'll be back in five minutes, if you need help, radio through."

Bobby looked like he was going to try and help her up into the truck behind her, but she shook her head. She wanted to stay where she was, knelt down on the floor. She was okay, but she didn't have the willpower or the energy to get up yet. She couldn't move. She had to stay here.

He seemed dubious about leaving her, but (Y/n) clearly didn't want help right now and they were two men down with Eddie being on holiday and Evan currently off work. And if (Y/n) was sitting this call out, Bobby needed to get back out there and control the situation and help so they could be back at the station as soon as possible.

(Y/n) barely heard her dad whisper that he would be back soon and she tried to lean closer when he kissed her temple. His touch lingered for a few moments, giving away how badly he wanted to stay with her and truly make sure she was alright. But the faint smile she tried to muster told him she might just be okay for a few minutes while he got this scene under control.

All she could do was lean her shoulders back against the truck and close her eyes, but the image was still there. Those beaming headlights were aimed at her. They were shining on her, blinking at her, flashing for her attention and the light shone through her closed eyes that were illuminated into bright red lines. With the image of Evan burned into her cornias until the day she died.

The image of Evan laid out on his stomach, gloved fingers desperately clawing at the floor. Nails splitting apart beneath the gloves, fingertips wearing down and the skin rubbing off as he tried to prize himself free.

His lips, sodden with sweat and dirt and the odd speckle of blood, screaming until he was froffing at the mouth and his throat felt drier than the desert.

His eyes, shedding so manny tears he could have had his own ocean named after him. Red circles beneath his eyes, veins prominent in the whites of his eyes, cheeks glistening with little white tracks where tears had wiped through the dirt covering his face.

(Y/n) could hear those screams. She could see the blood creating a puddle beneath him. She could see people moving to lift the truck and she could hear the agony in her husband's shrieks when their team finally dragged him from the wreckage and prized him free too late for (Y/n)'s liking.

Tears began to streak down her own face before she could stop them and she found her trembling hands rattling through her inside jacket pocket, searching for her phone.

She had to make sure he was okay.

She had to call Evan.

She had to know he wasn't in danger.

To stop herself from staring at the scene ahead that was only inflating her panic and agony, (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed. She closed them so tightly pins and needles flooded her face and had her squirming from the tight pain ebbing away at her eyes. It didn't stop the tears from falling, but they were only silent tears of fading panic and old anguish she was trying to push away.

The line didn't ring for long and (Y/n) was suddenly overwhelmed. Usually when it didn't ring for more than three beeps it meant Evan's phone was switched off or he rejected the call because he was busy on a call. And if the line had rung and rung with no answer, (Y/n) wasn't sure what her panicked brain would do in that scenario.

"Hey baby, everything okay?"

Evan's voice was the calm after the storm. (Y/n) could feel more silent tears beginning to stream down her face when she listened to his lulling voice with that slight rough edge that implied he may have taken a nap with Lilah at some point tonight.

He wasn't quite used to being at home while (Y/n) was at work. It had been the other way around when (Y/n) took early maternity leave and Evan had been the one to call her while he was at work. Just so he could hear her voice or listen to how her day had been to take his mind off a rough or an oddly quiet shift.

He didn't like being the one stuck at home, not able to do his job. But now he didn't have a pot running from his toes midway up his thigh, it was easier to be at home. No one had to be here helping him hobble about the house, he didn't need (Y/n) to help him wash or help him up out of bed and down the stairs.

He didn't need Maddie coming round to babysit him and now he could walk- although with a limp for now- he could properly care for Lilah.

It crushed Evan to not be able to carry his baby girl or bathe her or take her for a walk when he had been on crutches. Seeing (Y/n) or Maddie or even Bobby come round and help with Lilah had been killing him. But now, until he was signed off for work, Evan was spending as much time as he could with his baby girl.

"Babe, you there?" There was a slight chuckle at the end of his words as if he thought (Y/n) may have called him by accident or not realised she was now on the phone to him.

"Hm."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah… just- just wanted to hear your voice." Her voice sounded steadier than she had hoped and it made her relieved. She didn't want to worry Evan unnecessarily and make him panic or think something was wrong.

Because nothing was wrong, not really. A moment of panic had now been quenched by the sound of Evan's voice. (Y/n) could carry on, she could pick herself back up and get out there and try to actually do her job and hope none of the team had noticed her lapse in concentration.

"Why, what's going on?" There was a softness to his tone and (Y/n) could just imagine him sat there smiling.

She wasn't going to worry him. There was no point when telling Evan why she had worriedly called him would only serve to upset him. And there was no way to open up that conversation and tell him she had a brief panic at the thought of his accident.

"Nothing, just missed you."

"You're sweet." He tilted his head back, sliding further down the sofa he was reclined on with both legs hanging over the other side. And he shuffled Lilah who was laid on his chest with her head just beneath his collar bone. "Who's on the phone? Is it mummy?"

He got a little babbling response, a jumbled sound that was drowsy and showed that the toddler was about to fall asleep at any moment. But it was enough to have Evan smiling as he kissed her temple and ran his hand up and down her back, holding his phone closer to his ear with the other hand.

"So, you're missing me, huh?"

(Y/n) allowed a smile to pull at her lips. She felt better already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(One year ago)

Lifting her head, (Y/n) looked up at Athena through blurry eyes when they both heard a knock at the door.

She reached her hand out to give her mum's hand a tight squeeze and the calming smile on Athena's face did wonders for (Y/n)'s raging nerves. They both had the same thought in mind. They both prayed it was Evan at the front door.

Athena leaned over to peck (Y/n)'s temple before she got up from the sofa and hurried out into the hall to open the door.

Just as Athena dipped out the room, (Y/n) leaned forward with one hand gripping the arm of the sofa and her other hand clutching at her stomach. she hunched over as much as she could until her stomach was pressing into her thighs and her head was tilted down.

God, these contractions were going to be the death of her.

A quiet groan burned at the back of her throat and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes but she willed them away. She couldn't be crying yet, not when she wasn't even fully dilated or at the point of pushing yet. But she couldn't help it.

She wanted Evan. She wanted him to come home.

She was two weeks away from her due date and had gone into labour right when Evan was in the middle of a night shift with the rest of the team. (Y/n) had been extremely lucky that when she rang her mum, Athena hadn't been on shift tonight. She had come straight over and when neither of them could get hold of Evan or Bobby, Athena called the next best person.

She rang Maddie who was on shift at dispatch and they kindly asked her to get the message across to the 118 that Evan would have to end his shift early. He needed to come home and be here when (Y/n) had their baby.

When the contraction subsided, (Y/n) let out a groan and started to rub circles along her stomach in the vain hope that it would take her mind off the budding pains. And the ache in her heart from not having Evan here. He promised to be here. He had been subtly whispering to her bump, telling the baby to make an appearance when Evan was home and that they had to wait patiently for him.

(Y/n) had playfully told Evan off two weeks ago when he had been talking to the baby and asked them to arrive promptly last week so Evan wouldn't have to go to dinner with his parents for his dad's birthday. It didn't happen. They all suffered through dinner together anyway. If (Y/n) went into labour then, at least Evan would have been by her side rather than on shift like he was now.

"Is- is that him?" (Y/n) tried to look over her shoulder but she couldn't see Athena in the hall from where she was sat in the living room.

But she couldn't hear voices either. Athena was speaking in hushed tones with whoever was at the door. That must mean it wasn't Evan, if it was he would have burst through the doors and found (Y/n) immediately.

With pursed lips set into a deep frown, (Y/n) reached across for the tv remote and promptly changed the channel. The stupid sitcom that had been on in the background was steadily getting on (Y/n)'s nerves. The gag lines were silly, the jokes weren't funny and the audience laughing was irritating her to no end.

She flicked through three channels, about to look through a few more until a headline on the late night news caught her attention.

LAFD Bombing.

Her head tilted to one side and her eyes narrowed as she watched the camera zoom in, clearly live recording from a helicopter hovering at the scene.

Someone had tried to blow up a fire truck. They were sectioning off the street while the fire brigade talked to the bomber who was actually on the scene. a few people had been hurt in the blast. Someone was trapped. One of the firemen was still stuck in the fire truck that had exploded on-route.

"We can't tell her-"

Maddie lost her train of thought and whatever she was about to say when a horrifying, gut-wrenching scream shook the walls of the house. She clutched the doorframe, her eyes locking with Athena as the pair of them bolted from the hall and into the living room.

It was too late.

More tears streamed down Maddie's face, despite the fact that she had been crying for over twenty minutes now since the news reel first started and showed her little brother in peril.

She had come straight over to help Athena take (Y/n) to hospital and be here with her while Evan couldn't. She had tried to explain what had happened, she didn't want (Y/n) to know. She didn't want her sister in law to panic or be in distress, not when she was already overwhelmed and in labour. But it seemed too late now.

Both of them scurried into the living room to find (Y/n) down on her knees in front of the coffee table. One hand gripping the table while the other clutched the tv remote close to her chest. She turned the volume up until all of them were wincing at the abrupt noises of the helicopter and the news reporters.

She had seen. (Y/n) had seen her husband, lying there on the floor with the entire fire truck crushing down on his leg.

No wonder he wasn't here already. He wasn't going to be here. Evan wasn't coming home, he was stuck. He was pinned down to the road like a fly trapped in a spider's web. Her husband was being crushed while she was splitting apart, about to have their first baby without him. There was no way Evan was going to be here to hold her hand or be by her side.

Did he even know she had gone into labour? Had he been told before this accident happened or was he still oblivious? What did it matter? Labour seemed insignificant compared to the horror Evan was going through.

Why were they broadcasting his anguish to the world?

"(Y/n)-"

"Oh honey."

A gurgling sob left (Y/n)'s lips as she pushed forward until her forehead was pressing down on the edge of the coffee table harsh enough that it was going to leave a mark soon.

When she felt Athena and Maddie reaching out for her, she roughly shook them off, but it wasn't like she could move very far. Not when her aching knees were now glued to the carpet and her stomach was tightening with every passing second.

"He- he's hurt!" The urgency in (Y/n)'s voice took Athena by surprise and only made fresh tears pour down Maddie's face.

This is what she had been afraid of. She had been worried about (Y/n) finding out and sending herself into a state of distress which wouldn't do her or the baby any good. She had hoped to keep (Y/n) ignorant and try to tell her that Evan had been caught up in a situation at work. Maybe tell her there was a bomber out there and the team were trying to diffuse the situation. She thought it would be easier to tell (Y/n) once she'd had the baby or once Evan was taken to hospital, whatever happened first.

"They're going to look after him, he'll be okay." Maddie looped her arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders and gently reeled her sister in law into her chest. She pecked the top of (Y/n)'s head and tried to rub her hand up and down her back, but she could see she wasn't helping very much.

Sobs continued to wrack (Y/n)'s body that was now trembling and when she reeled up, she looked back at the tv which was now zooming in on her husband's peril.

Showing Evan in all his anguish and agony, bright red in the face, spit dribbling down his chin as he screamed. Hands clawing at the road to try and drag himself free to no avail.

"Why isn't someone helping him?!" The words tore past (Y/n)'s lips with a violent scream before she launched the remote in her hand far across the room. Watching with anger and disgust as the remote hit the wall, rebounded into a picture frame and knocked it to the floor.

The shattering glass somehow made (Y/n) feel a little better. Something else other than her and Evan was shattering.

Why wasn't there someone knelt down beside her husband, telling him everything was going to be okay? Why wasn't someone holding his hand? Why was no one trying to move the truck and free her husband? How could they just stand back and leave him there like that, allowing the camera to get a closer view than the rest of them? That wasn't fair. They couldn't leave him in agony like that.

"We have t-to help him. I need to be there- be there with him." Each word came out with a hitched breath until (Y/n) was barely breathing and reduced to panting and gasping instead.

She moved her hands to the coffee table and tried her best to push up from where she was knelt on the floor. But both her legs were shaking and the moment she was on her feet, a cry errupted from her lips and her hands cupped her stomach that was twisting in agony.

She felt Athena rush to grab her arm and steady her and she allowed herself to lean into her mum's touch, letting Athena hold up some of her weight.

"Honey, we need to go to the hospital, these contractions are getting closer." Athena shakily brushed her free hand along (Y/n)'s cheek and leaned over to kiss her temple. (Y/n) was like another daughter to her. Since the moment she married Bobby, she had taken (Y/n) in as her own like Bobby had grown close to May and Harry.

She hated to see (Y/n) in distress like this much the same as she couldn't look at the tv and see Evan be trapped beneath that truck.

"No. No, I w-" She broke off with another cry as Maddie reached out for her waist to stop her from going back down on her knees. "Evan! He needs us."

Maddie couldn't stop her lower lip from wobbling and she sucked in a deep breath, doing her best to stop from bursting into another fit of tears. How could any of this be happening? How could her little brother be stuck in peril like that? How could (Y/n) be in labour at the exact same moment? How could they be separated in a moment where they should both be together? When they had both been planning to do this as one since the moment they found out about this baby.

"Buck has the team with him to look after him, and he wouldn't stand for you having his baby in the middle of the street, now would he?" The firm tone to Athena's voice made (Y/n) shiver and feel like she was a child being told the rules of the game.

Her head fell onto Athena's shoulder and a low whine passed her lips as she began to cry.

"Your dad is there with him, I'll call him when we're at the hospital to find out what's happening. And as soon as Buck is at the hospital with us, we can sort everything out. But we need to get you to the hospital to look after you and this baby."

"Buck will be taken to the hospital soon, better to be there waiting for him than stuck in traffic trying to reach him, hm?" Maddie's words made sense and seemed to calm down one of (Y/n)'s many erratic nerves.

The roads would be gridlocked. They had to get going now and it was lucky that Athena had sirens in her car so she could override the traffic that would undoubtedly be on the streets.

Rather than trying to get to Evan, by which time he could be transported to the hospital, they may as well get there first and wait for him. (Y/n) could be seen by the midwife, her and the baby would be safe and as soon as Evan was there, they would find out what was happening and get news of if he was alright or not.

They would wait for him at the hospital. And (Y/n) would try and hold on as long as she could. She didn't want this baby on her own, she wanted to know Evan was okay.

She wanted to see him before she gave birth.

***

"Why don't we sit down-"

"No."

Both (Y/n)'s hands planted down on the bed in front of her. Her lower back arched out and she leaned forward until her legs were ready to cave in beneath her and give way. Her knees were trembling. Her arms were rattling against the bedframe. She wanted to be sick.

She had shed so many tears she could have a river named after her. Both eyes were puffy and begging for rest, for a moment to sleep or fall closed and recover and to stop crying, but (Y/n) didn't know how. She didn't know how to stop crying when she could see her husband in dire distress, but she couldn't do anything to help him.

She didn't want to sit down, (Y/n) didn't want to be here in the first place. She changed her mind as soon as they arrived at the hospital. She wanted to turn round and go find Evan, she wanted to be there with him, to talk to him and tell him that she was here. She was nearby and she wanted him to know she wanted to help but she just didn't know how.

Another cry tumbled past her lips as her hands fisted in the bedsheets. She wasn't sure whether it was Maddie or Athena who was reaching out for her, but she didn't care. Their gentle touches and vain attempts to get her to move from her crouched position weren't working.

When the pain finally wore off, (Y/n) lifted her head and looked up at the tv in the corner of the room.

The news reel was playing. (Y/n) had been glued to watching any screen she could, looking at any monitor that was recording the live event and giving her a view of her husband in turmoil.

People had finally started to move to try and help him. Evan was no longer sprawled out on the floor on his own, in mass agony, with no way of getting himself free. The rest of the team had managed to pull themselves together and were trying to move the truck. As if any of them could lift that ten ton of steel and and equipment and oversized engine.

"How are we doing in here?" The same midwife who had showed them in peeked her head round the door. She had been doing regular checks and kept trying to insist (Y/n) try to sit and calm down because this was doing her blood pressure and the baby's heartbeat no favours. But (Y/n) wasn't in any fit state to listen.

(Y/n) didn't bother answering, she kept her gaze intently focused on the tv. She couldn't believe Evan hadn't passed out by now and she couldn't believe no one had gotten him free yet.

If they'd of gotten him out by now he could have been in the hospital. (Y/n) could have been with him, she could of held his hand and promised him everything was going to be okay.

She wished there was a way to pause her body and stop labour until Evan was in a fit state to be here, but that wasn't possible.

When another pain hit, (Y/n) couldn't stop her knees from giving out on her and she crumpled down into a squatting position. She thrust more weight onto her arms, quivering through the pain as Maddie tried to stop her from kneeling on the floor and Athena's hands held onto her waist to try and coil her up.

"If you're pushing, we really need to get you on the bed." There was a sense of urgency in the midwife's voice and she got as close as she could considering Maddie and Athena were crowding her like bodyguards.

(Y/n) didn't have the willpower to argue with them anymore.

Her hands clawed at the bed once the pain wore off and left her cramping and aching and splitting apart in dull infrequent waves. It didn't feel good to be sitting down like it did to be crouching or pacing around the room. Pacing kept her mind busy and gave her something to do.

And (Y/n) was fearful that as soon as she sat down, she would progress further and have the baby without Evan, although that seemed inevitable now.

"I think you're ready, let's get settled to push, shall we?" The sympathy in the midwife's voice did nothing to settle the anguish in (Y/n)'s heart.

Her head began to shake and her lower lip wobbled as a horrid sob wracked her chest. This wasn't how things were supposed to play out. She was supposed to be safe at home with Evan when she went into labour. He was supposed to time the contractions and take her to hospital and hold her hand and help her through this.

He was supposed to be here making jokes and kissing her hand and telling her all the random facts about labour and kids that he had learned to go along with all the pregnancy facts he had been telling her the last few months.

Evan wasn't supposed to be stuck with their entire damn fire truck crumpling down on his leg and people desperately trying to set him free.

"I c- I can't have this baby yet-" Her head began to shake and she tugged on Athena's hand as if her mum could somehow do something to rectify this situation.

"Honey, you don't have much of a choice."

Maddie sat down on the left side of the bed and let (Y/n) deadlock their hands together. She reached out with her free hand and gently ran her fingers through (Y/n)'s damp, matted hair, brushing the strands away from her face as she herself was in tears once again.

She hadn't expected to be here when (Y/n) gave birth, she had expected to have the most overjoyed, hyper phone call from her little brother telling her when (Y/n) went into labour. And then another call to ask her to come down to the hospital once her niece or nephew was born.

But when she came along to bring (Y/n) down here, (Y/n) hadn't let go of her hand and Maddie took that as a silent hint that (Y/n) didn't want her to go. And she didn't want to go either. Maddie didn't want to go home and wait anxiously in vain for news of both (Y/n) and Evan.

She had to be here, whether that was in the room right now giving (Y/n) support or just sitting in the hallway waiting for news on either her or Evan. Being in here made Maddie feel useful and it was a distraction.

"You can push on the next contraction."

(Y/n) didn't reply, but she did as she was told and started to push. Her knees coiled up, she pulled both Athena and Maddie's hands towards her chest and she leaned forward as much as she could to see if it would help.

But she stopped, every part of her body going rigid and becoming tense as her head snapped up to the tv.

A small 'oh' left her lips before a round of "Evan!" croaked into the air causing the other girls to look up at the tv.

Dozens upon dozens of passers by in the street were pushing the fire truck. Everyone was leaning against it, forcing all of their weight onto the structure to try and get Evan free.

(Y/n) ignored the next contraction, droning out the midwife's nervous instructions and she tried not to push as she put all of her focus on the tv. Silent sobs wracked her lips and had her trembling back and forth as she watched Hen and Eddie reach out for Evan to try and pull him free, while every other civilian there pushed on the truck.

What hurt (Y/n) the most was seeing Evan scrape his hand against the road. He was trying to help. He had hundreds of pounds of metal crushing down on his leg, pinning him to the road, he was in more agony than he ever had been in his life. And there he was, trying to help get himself free, trying to drag himself along the road to make it easier on everyone else.

The news reporter was close enough that Evan's horrid scream of terror managed to get broadcast on the tv and (Y/n)'s only response was to cry his name through wet lips as another contraction hit and she started to push.

"He- he's free."

"They've got him, they've got him honey."

"He'll be okay now." Maddie leaned forward when (Y/n) dropped her head onto her sister's shoulder and Maddie kissed the top of her head, weaving her other arm around (Y/n)'s waist.

(Y/n) coiled her legs up tighter until her knees were pressing into her stomach and she pushed. Unable to stop herself from muttering Evan's name on a loop as if it was the only thing she could understand. She was almost there, she was about to have her baby in her arms, and the one person she wanted here with her was nowhere to be seen.

The news reel changed to a wider angle of the whole scene and the reporter switched back to someone in the studio. Evan was free, they weren't going to record the team getting him into an ambulance and racing him away from the scene. But he was free. He was free from the constraints of the fire truck and now he would be here within ten minutes, all being well.

But he was still going to miss the birth.

***

"We're here! Buck, we're here." Reaching down, Bobby gripped Evan's arm and did his best to try and smile, but he couldn't manage it. Not when he could see the damage done to his son in law's leg.

He could see the dramatic sight where skin and muscle had been split apart and the bone was visible. He could see breaks in the bone and splinters of bone pushing out at odd angles. He could see through the gauze that was moulding into Evan's wound from soaking up all the blood that the strap around his thigh couldn't cut off.

It didn't look good.

Both Eddie and Hen had been doing their best to make him comfortable on the ride down here, but it was hard. They couldn't give him any morphine, not when he was going to need X-rays and scans and an emergency operation. Morphine and anaesthetic didn't always mix well and Evan had a bad track history with medications causing severe reactions.

All they could give him was the gas and air tube to breathe through and although it had done nothing to take the edge off, Evan had been breathing it in since the moment they got him in the ambulance.

"Let's get you inside, you're gonna be just fine." Hen's voice was soothing, but Evan couldn't believe her words.

He didn't feel fine.

He didn't feel as if he was going to be fine or make a swift recovery from this.

He felt like he was going to be put under anaesthetic and wake up with one leg. He could feel each piece of tattered skin desperately trying to cling to his leg. He could feel his leg pulsing and aching from where the blood supply had been cut off mid-way down his thigh. Evan felt like his body was on fire, his leg was disconnected and each breath was becoming harder to take.

When Eddie reached across to try and take the gas and air tube from his grip, a deep growl emmited from Evan's lips and he clenched his hand tight around the tube.

He pulled the strange looking mask back to his lips and inhaled three fast, choked breaths. The tubes were always switched and cleaned out after every use, but Evan had a feeling they would have to bin this one. He had chomped down so hard on the tube that he had left puncture indents in the plastic.

"No! It f-fucking kills-"

"Buck, you can have more pain relief once you're inside, I swear. Mate please, please we have to move you now." Eddie felt horrible when he had to prize Evan's fingers from the gas and air and as soon as he let go, they clipped off the breaks and moved the stretcher.

Bobby leaned down and took Evan's hand once they all climbed down and Chimney rushed from the driver's seat. He held Evan's hand high to his chest as Evan started to thrash around on the gurney.

His chest stuttered up and down and repeatedly pushed back to the point the gurney was shaking and about to unlock and lower down. His free hand curled into a fist and slammed into the metal frame harsh enough to split some of the skin around his knuckles.

He was in agony. He needed it to stop.

"(Y/n). Have- have you- fuck. (Y/n)." Evan couldn't get his thoughts in order, the only thing in his head and the one word that could properly be muttered from his lips was his wife's name.

They had been on their way back to the station when the bomb hit. They had been going back specifically because Maddie came through the radio and said (Y/n) had gone into labour. That was the call Evan had been waiting for and dreading at the same time. He had been anxious about when (Y/n) would go into labour and if it would happen while he was at work.

He had been ecstatic. He had been bouncing in his seat, riding shotgun in the truck for the first time in ages and he and Bobby had been debating whether it would be a boy or a girl.

Now, Evan had no idea what was happening. He didn't know who was with (Y/n) or if she was alone right now. He didn't know if she was still home or if someone had taken her to the maternity ward. He didn't know if she was in agony, if anything had gone wrong, if she was having complications or sailing through labour without him.

Bobby tightened his hand around Evan's and leaned down so he could talk to him better because he knew Evan was now having a hard time concentrating and taking things in. Who wouldn't in his state?

"Athena and Maddie brought her to the hospital, once you're inside I'll go find them. She'll be okay."

While waiting for people to help get Evan free, Bobby had answered the third phone call from his wife. All he knew so far was they had brought (Y/n) in and labour was in full swing, they were just waiting for her to dilate. But his daughter was here and she was safe, that was all Bobby needed to know for now while he focused on looking after his son in law.

"I wa- I want-" Evan broke off into an animalistic howl when the gurney jolted over the threshold into the emergency room and the shock sent his leg jerking. Shockwaves rattled up and down his spine and both legs shook as if he had been electrocuted.

He lifted his head and shoulders, doing his best to sit up although he wasn't sure what he was doing, he just wanted to move.

He wanted the pain to stop.

Tears flushed down his face and a broken sob left his lips when he locked onto a familiar frame stood anxiously by the reception desk.

He could see his big sister stood with a bright red face, puffy eyes and tears streaked down her features. She had both hands interlocked in front of her in that panicked manner where she would scratch her nails along the back of her hands until they were rubbed raw. The moment she looked their way, it was as if a light had come and gone in her eyes all at once.

She ran across the floor and grabbed Evan's outstretched hand, pulling it up so she could kiss the back of his hand. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm and her lips wobbled, unable to hold back a sob when she looked at her baby brother who had been more of a son to her at times.

"Oh, oh Buck."

Evan let out another sob while the team paused the gurney in the hallway and Eddie moved to flag someone down. This was a dire emergency, they needed a doctor here now and they needed Evan taken to theatre before he lost his leg.

"W-where's (Y/n)?" Evan had spent the last few hours wondering what was happening with his wife, if she was okay, if he could be taken to her at some point.

He had tried arguing with Bobby on the journey down here, asking if he could see (Y/n) before he went for whatever surgery he was going to need. Of course Bobby said no, that wasn't going to be an option. Evan couldn't delay any form of treatment, not for a minute or an hour. He had to be taken straight to theatre.

"She's on the maternity ward."

"Is she-"

"She's fine… oh Buck, you've got a beautiful little girl." Maddie reached her hand out to brush her finger down his bloodied cheek as a broken smile formed on her lips.

But her smile faded into an open-mouthed, hollow frown when Evan's entire face fell. His jaw loosened and slacked like it had become disconnected, his eyes glossed over and his nose crinkled making him look like a snarling dog.

"I m- I missed it? I- oh God- Bobby-" The most horrid scream any of them ever heard erupted from Evan's lips and shook the walls.

He ripped his hand free from Maddie's hold, slammed his fist down into the frame of the gurney and writhed until he almost toppled off the gurney. He fought and thrashed against all the hands that pinned him down and ignored their panicked screams for a doctor.

He missed it.

He missed his daughter's birth. He hadn't been there. He promised (Y/n) he would be with her from the moment she went into labour to the moment their precious baby would be in their arms. He said he would do anything he could to be there and that he wouldn't let her down, and now, he had broken those promises.

He couldn't see (Y/n), he couldn't hold his daughter. He couldn't cut the cord or hold her for the first time the moment she was born. He wasn't going to see her on her birthday, if he was going for an operation he wouldn't be conscious or lucid enough to see her for another day, possibly two.

A chorus of exploding emotions erupted to life in his chest and wailed past his lips but it didn't feel like anyone was listening to him. And Evan was too far gone into his despair to hear anyone try to comfort him. He didn't want comfort. He wanted a time machine. Evan wanted the chance to go back and make sure this didn't happen.

He wanted to rewind time and sit in the back of the truck with the rest of the team so he could scramble out without being trapped. He wanted to get out of that truck unscathed and rush down to the hospital and hold his wife's hand as she gave birth to their daughter.

This wasn't fair.

Tortured screams left Evan's lips and (Y/n)'s name spat past his lips on repeat as the gurney began to move and hands continued to pin him down.

But the pain in his leg was nothing compared to the agony overwhelming his heart.

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #pregnant! reader #bobby nash #eddie diaz

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thisapplepielife · 2 months ago

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Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Hell Has Officially Frozen Over

Prompt Day 9: Icy Roads | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Future Fic, Reconnecting in Your Hometown, Old Friends, Pre-Steddie

It's bad. It's really, really bad.

Eddie white-knuckles the steering wheel of his pickup truck wondering if he's ever gonna make it to Hawkins as he barely crawls along. Not only is it nearly impossible to see, but the roads are slicker than shit already. It's like this snuck up on them, and the state didn't even have time to salt the roads.

He should have left an hour earlier.

Hell, he should have left a day earlier.

It's heading towards being a whiteout. Which is pretty fucking gorgeous, honestly, but not when he's having to drive in these blizzard-like conditions.

Easing down the highway, not another car in sight, he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. A slight glow, off to the left.

As he approaches, he's pretty fucking certain that he's seeing the faint glimmer of taillights off in the ditch. A car probably missed that little curve, and slid off in the ditch.

Fuck.

He should stop. But he isn't exactly sure how or where he might be able to do that safely.

Fuck it.

He hasn't seen anyone else out in miles, so he stops in the middle of the two-lane highway. He'll check real quick, see if there actually is anything, or if it's just his eyes deceiving him after all this white.

He turns on his flashers, but he's not sure that'll help anyone see him in this near zero visibility.

Eddie pulls out his Maglite, and is thankful Wayne was always so adamant that he carried one.

He's pretty sure there is a car. Something covered in white, and lodged into the snowbank.

"Hey! Anybody in there!" Eddie hollers.

He stops to listen, and he doesn't hear anything — then. A dull pounding.

"Goddamnit," Eddie mutters, but slides down the ditch, and once he gets closer, he hears the pounding again. Hand against glass.

The passenger window is covered in snow, and Eddie starts brushing it away as fast as he can. It's fucking freezing, even through his gloves.

He gets the window cleared, and a face appears.

"Eddie?!"

It's Steve Harrington.

Shit.

Eddie leans down to get a closer look.

"You okay?" Eddie asks through the window and Steve nods.

"I'm stuck. I can't open either door, or the windows!"

"Want me to break in?" Eddie hollers, and Steve nods.

Eddie moves to the back window of the car, and yells back, "Cover your eyes!"

Steve leans forward, and Eddie bangs the butt of his metal flashlight against the window. It doesn't give. Fuck. Apparently it's gonna take more power than that.

He rears back and gives a really good whack this time, then another, harder, near the corner, shattering the glass into the car.

"Hey! Still okay?" Eddie asks, brushing glass from the window sill with his flashlight. It's safety glass, and not sharp, but he can't imagine crawling out over it would be a whole lot of fun, still.

The soft glow of the lights Eddie could see goes out, and then Steve's head pops back into view as he crawls over the console of the car, and into the backseat.

"I'm good, I think. Just thought I might freeze to death before I was able to get myself out."

Eddie holds out his hands, and offers Steve help as he tries to slide out of the now broken window. It's a tighter fit than seems comfortable with his heavy winter coat on, but together they pull him out.

"Sorry about the window."

"No, no. Thanks for stopping. I figured I was stuck until INDOT came out tomorrow."

They climb up the ditch and towards Eddie's pickup, to see if they can find something to at least cover the broken window.

After, Eddie can't get the traction to get going again. He looks around. He does have some gifts for Wayne, and unwraps one, dumping the contents in the seat, then with his pocket knife, cuts the box into four pieces, one for each tire.

It's enough. He's able to get them edging forward again.

Five miles to Hawkins.

But it seems like five-hundred at this rate.

"What were you doing out here?" Steve asks.

"I could ask you the same thing, Harrington?" Eddie banters back, and Steve laughs.

"Coming home from the airport-"

"That was a rental? Oh shit."

Steve laughs, but continues, "I promised I'd do Christmas at home this year," Steve admits.

"Oh, so this blizzard is your fault."

"Huh?" Steve questions, confused.

"Hell has officially frozen over," Eddie teases.

And Steve laughs. Eddie has missed him. It's been too long since any of them have gotten together. Once out of Hawkins, it's been really hard to return.

"Something like that," Steve says, but he's smiling at Eddie, "What brings you home?"

"Wayne," Eddie says. Wayne's the only reason he'll step foot into this town these days.

There are no other cars on the road. They're the only dummies out and about in this shitshow.

When they pull up in front of the Harrington house, Eddie turns to look at him.

"Thanks for rescuing me," Steve says, meeting his eyes in the dark.

"Hey, I definitely owed you one. You rescued me first."

Steve reaches over and squeezes Eddie's hand, "You didn't owe me anything. It's been good to see you, man. You look good."

Eddie flips his hand over so he can squeeze back, "If the parents get too stifling, come to Wayne's," Eddie offers.

"Expect me. How long you here?" Steve asks.

"A week, you?"

"Same."

"Let's definitely catch up," Eddie offers, and Steve's nodding, hard.

"Yeah, let's do that. You and me."

"The Hideout," Eddie laughs.

Steve grins, "All the shitty beer we can drink."

"Where's Buckley?" Eddie asks.

"She'll be here in two days, weather allowing."

"Let's gather up everyone who's home. Do something together again. We survived Hawkins once."

"Hell yes we did," Steve says, his blinding smile proof they can do it again.

This time, it's only Hawkins for Christmas.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #prompt: icy roads #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #christmas fic #steddie fan fic #steddie fic #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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spirit-lanterns · 1 year ago

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FAST AND FURIOUS 2

synopsis: you catch the eye of the infamous street racer (part 1 here)

featuring: jingliu, yukong, tingyun, himeko, natasha

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: (street racer AU) sub! afab fem reader (jingliu, yukong, himeko, natasha), dom! afab fem reader (tingyun). strap ons, fing.ering, lap s.ex, s.ex while driving, cunnilingus, dirty talk, mentions of car crash and injury (natasha), blood (natasha), some established relationships, illegal street racing, may be ooc.

art credits: initial D

JINGLIU

Street Racer Jingliu! Who is an urban legend in the street racing community, notorious for not caring about the safety of others, and doing whatever it takes to cross that finish line. She had taken a hiatus from racing a couple years back, but now she was back and ready to instill fear in the new generation of racers…

Street Racer Jingliu! Who is intimidating when she pulls up to the starting line. Many of the racers gawking at her in shock, as the infamous legend herself gets out of the car to scan the crowd. When she spots you in the midst of the watchers, her lips curve to a smirk, and she walks over to you to tilt your chin up at her. “Looks like I came to race on a good day…” she whispers, voice husky from years of retirement. “I hope to see you at the finish line.”

Street Racer Jingliu! Who proves to be a brutal competitor in terms of actually racing, as she’s fast, agile, but worst of all, dangerous. She knew what she was doing, potentially risking her life and others on the road, but she didn’t care. Her eyes are a burning, crazy orange that leaves you thinking of her while you watch, and you can’t help but silently root for her as she narrowly evades tumbling off a bridge and soaring down into a ditch.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who gets called crazy, insane, and absolutely psychotic. But you can’t help but fall in love with that as she screeches past the flags and stops inches away from where you were standing. Any longer and she would’ve run you over, but she wouldn’t let that happen, after all, you were too pretty to be killed <;3

Street Racer Jingliu! Who walks up to you and slides her sunglasses off, staring at you with those beautiful, burning eyes of hers. “You’re the only one who seemed to be rooting for me,” she hums, gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine, “What a…surprisingly loyal fan you are.”

Street Racer Jingliu! Who couldn’t care less about the way the crowd boos at her for almost injuring the other racers. Her eyes are solely focused on you, as she wraps a gloved arm around your waist. “I think I’m ready for another round, care to race with me?” She asks with a grin, pulling you into her car and revving the engine up until it sounded like a roar.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who has you in her lap as she speeds through the highway with your pretty legs draping over hers. Thick, rimmed, strap on plunging into your walls, as she tries to give you the ride of your life (literally). All the while driving at dangerously high speeds.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who has your heart hammering and your adrenaline pumping, fucking you with her cock as she multitasks driving and pushing you towards an orgasm before she reaches the finish line. She’s racing two races at the moment, and she intends on winning them both, eager to claim her prize of a second victory, and your cum staining the leather of her pants.

Street Racer Jingliu! Who soars past the finish line just as you cream all over the strap, one hand gripping your ass before she murmurs “Looks like I won again” into your ear and delivers a tiny spank. She groans at the way you rest so perfectly in her lap, and she can’t wait to take you home with her for the rest of the evening.

YUKONG

Street Racer Yukong! Who is a retired street racer that is greatly admired within the community. She is pretty much everyone’s role model, so when she pulls up to the starting gate in that memorable, yet legendary vehicle, everyone goes apeshit. Completely in awe at the sight of the legend before them, as many start to grab snacks to watch the race of a lifetime…

Street Racer Yukong! Who is a little rusty when it comes to racing against youngsters, but once she gets back into the rhythm of it, it’s like second nature. She’s so unknowingly charismatic that all the fangirls in the crowd seem to love her, yet there’s only one she has her eyes on, and that’s you. The cutest, sweetest girl she’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, as you were the one she used to screw in the backseat of her car back when she was a rookie.

Street Racer Yukong! Who’s maturity while racing is a dreamboat for many of her fans. They all admire how calm and composed she could be, as she narrowly avoids a crash on one of the busiest highways. Everyone is anxious for the safety of their beloved Yukong, but you know better. Instead, trusting that she knows what she’s doing, as you’ve ridden with her (and on her) countless of times.

Street Racer Yukong! Who sees you cheering her on in the stands and smiles softly at the sight. No matter how old you both get, you will always be her number one fan. Evident with how you always wore her old racing jacket, as it was the one she gave to you after a rather passionate night spent in the backseat of her car. (It always smelled like her whenever you wore it, so you’ve always kept it on you whenever the time was appropriate)

Street Racer Yukong! Who decides to greet you at the stands for old times sake, pulling you in for a winning kiss, and nearly lifting you off the ground with how happy she was to see you. “I missed you…” she says in that gruff, husky, voice of hers. “I want to celebrate with you for just a little while longer…”

Street Racer Yukong! Who is impossible to say no to as she drives you down to the hotel she was staying at with eagerness to see you naked again. It’s been…so long since she’s seen you naked beneath her, and she hopes to see more of you after this exchange as she is now back into street racing.

Street Racer Yukong! Who has you bent over her hotel bed with a strap on pounding into your insides. Where she stashed it, you had no idea, but you found yourself moaning in ecstasy, as the familiar pace of Yukong’s hips slamming mercilessly had you all nostalgic. Tears building up in your eyes, as you missed the feeling of her cock ramming so deep in you…

Street Racer Yukong! Who grunts like an animal in heat before lifting your legs up off the bed and slamming back into you brutally. “Goodness…you feel amazing…” she groans, already missing the feeling of being by your side for all those years. “I can’t leave you alone again… you’re mine. Mine.”

Street Racer Yukong! Who doesn’t leave in the morning this time, and instead stays curled up by your side by the time you wake up. Gruff, messy, bed head tickling your neck from behind, as she whispers “Looks like I’m staying with you, dear,” into your ear before kissing it affectionately.

TINGYUN

Street Racer Tingyun! Who is a rookie in the street racing community that looks up to her idol: Yukong. She’s a little inexperienced, somewhat cocky, but that doesn’t stop her from winning a few races before going up to the big leagues. She looks very out of place when lined up besides the other famous racers, but you can’t help but notice her as she just looked so cute standing there! So innocent and so…unprepared.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who almost crashes several times when the race begins. It’s a miracle how she managed to not get into any accidents, as Tingyun was definitely not prepared to handle the brutality of the other racers. You felt bad when you saw the panicked look on her face, but her panic eventually paid off, as through some miracle, she won.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who is stunned silent when she’s the one who makes it across the finish line. Her eyes wide with shock as the crowd cheers for the rookie who managed to outspeed the pro racers. It takes her a moment to recollect herself, blinking in disbelief before Tingyun leaps into the air with excitement. “I did it! I actually won!” She exclaims, suddenly getting her cockiness back. “That’s a legendary race for sure!”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who’s ego gets stroked even more when you walk up behind her with a bouquet of flowers in your hand. She’s stunned speechless at the sight of a cute girl delivering her flowers, so she gets half the mind to flirt with you a little (even though you knew she was bluffing) “Oh? Are these for me?” She giggles smugly, taking the bouquet from you with gratitude. “So cute, say…how do you feel about you and I getting out of here, hmm? I’m sure I can show a pretty girl like you a good time.”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who doesn’t catch the way you roll your eyes at her request, as you did not like how smug she got after winning just one race in the big leagues. You figured you’d have to humble her one way or another, so you smirked and agreed to her proposal. “Great!” Tingyun grins, holding you by the waist and leading you back to her car. “I definitely know how to show a girl a good time…”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who did not expect to have her legs spread over your shoulders, tongue lapping vigorously against that drooling of cunt hers, while pressed against the hood of her car in a parking lot. She was expecting her to please you, not the other way around! Yet here she was, a moaning, crying, mess, trying to hold in her sobs as she gripped your hair with her fingers.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who is panting so heavily while her clit gets pushed against by your nose. Feather light kisses causing her to scream, before wrapping her legs even tighter around your face. “Oh…g-god…!” She whimpers and tries to keep herself calm but to no use. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!”

Street Racer Tingyun! Who you can’t help but giggle at as you thrust your tongue into her walls to taste all that she could offer. She was so embarrassed at the way the tables turned, but you didn’t care, as you wanted more of her cum dripping down your chin and staining the leather of her pants.

Street Racer Tingyun! Who lets out a squeal as she squirts all over your face in ecstasy. She’s trembling and shivering from the way you blow on her clit, and pretty soon she’s begging for more. “Oh…please come home with me later. You’re really good at this…”

HIMEKO

Street Racer Himeko! Who is like a teacher to many of the younger street racers of this current generation. Known as one of the biggest rivals to Street Racer Kafka, Himeko is another legend amongst the community, due to her infamous races and ability to adapt to any situation quickly.

Street Racer Himeko! Who looks so effortlessly beautiful as she sits on the hood of her expensive, yet luxurious looking car. Everyone is taking photos and yelling for her attention, but she merely takes a sip of her coffee and ignores them while waiting for you. You’re the only girl in the world she would ever pay attention to, so you get treated like a VIP as you walk up beside her and join her by her car.

Street Racer Himeko! Who draped her large coat over your figure and opened the door for you like a gentlewoman. “Let’s go on a ride,” she says with a smile, treating the race like a leisurely drive as she was not at all nervous for the ride of a lifetime. “I promise to hold back a little for you, darling.”

Street Racer Himeko! Who keeps one hand protectively on your thigh while speeding at dangerous speeds down the road. She chuckles when you complain she’s going too fast, so she eases up on the speed now that she was so ahead. “Too fast for you, love?” She hums while squeezing your thigh. “I can always slow it down, we’re way ahead anyways.”

Street Racer Himeko! Who looks so ethereal as she rolls down the windows and lets the wind blow through her hair. She looked so…relaxed as she held you by her side, one hand on the wheel before completing the race on one smooth glide.

Street Racer Himeko! Who couldn’t care less about the praise she received from the crowd outside, as she only wanted to bring you home and claim her reward for winning yet another race. “Let’s go home, love. I’m exhausted and I want nothing more than to have you crying my name…” she whispers, pulling you away from the crowd and flash photography.

Street Racer Himeko! Who sees the needy look in your eyes and groans “fuck it” under her breath before pulling you back into her car to finger you. She uses her coat as a makeshift bed for you, and eagerly plunges her long, smooth fingers into your dripping cunt.

Street Racer Himeko! Who smothers your neck in kisses as the smell of new cars and perfume fills your nose with comfort. Himeko was always gentle and loving with you, despite doing something like illegal street racing on the side. She plants a crimson kiss on the side of your cheek, and thrusts two more her fingers into your walls. “It’s alright if you get my seats dirty,” she chuckles into your ear, “I wouldn’t mind any stains if it’s you.”

Street Racer Himeko! Who succeeds in her wants as she has your cum sliding down her arm and dripping all over her seats. She lets out a delighted hum and licks each digit clean, helping you slide up your panties. “Get your shorts back on, doll, I have reservations at a hotel across town. I’m not done with you just yet…”

NATASHA

Street Racer Natasha! Who is a retired street racer that now works as a medic for injuries, crashes, and anything dangerous that happens on the road. She used to be a racer that taught Seele how to race, but due to growing older and having other responsibilities to take, Natasha retired and led a life of healing and recovery.

Street Racer Natasha! Who may be old, but definitely still has some of that racer energy left inside her. She’s quick and efficient when dealing with injuries, and the first time you saw her, she was pulling you out of a crashed car and checking your face for any cuts. “Easy there, don’t worry…” she hums in a comforting tone, “You’re just a little shaken up, I’ve got you…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who suddenly hoists you up in her arms and carries you bridal style to her car to take you to the infirmary. You had no idea that the medic was so strong and jacked, but you figured she had to carry people out on a daily basis, so perhaps this was just another day for her.

Street Racer Natasha! Who speaks so gently and softly to you before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get that pretty face all patched up, hm?” She chuckles softly, placing you in the back of her car with ease. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor with quite the skilled fingers.” she says with a smile, completely unaware of the dirty implications she just implied…

Street Racer Natasha! Who’s fingers are so soft and tender as they rub some gauze against your forehead to clean the bloodied cuts. Her face is extra close to yours for maximum efficiency, yet you can’t help but think she’s staring at your lips despite cleaning the wound on your head. “Are you staring at my lips?” You ask in a hushed voice, Natasha casting you a smile before patting your head. “I am. They’re very beautiful.”

Street Racer Natasha! Who decided to screw it and place a tender kiss against your lips, caging you in on the patient’s bed. “My sweet patient deserves a reward for letting me bandage her so smoothly,” she hums, eyes growing dark with lust. “Let me spoil you, my dear…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who lets you cling onto her as she fingers your tight, needy hole with some lube. Her thumb presses your clit like a button, and you find yourself resting your head on her shoulder and whimpering against her neck. “Just like that…” she whispers, groaning a little when she feels you clench, “So tight…nngh…you like how I finger you, hmm? Naughty girl…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who slaps your clit with her palm and smirks at the way you suck her in the more she talks dirty. “Oh? It seems you get wetter the more I talk,” she chuckles, leaning in close to your ear. “What a good little racer you are…”

Street Racer Natasha! Who thinks your injuries are too serious to send you home just yet, even though they were just minor cuts and scrapes. She makes the decision to keep you resting in her infirmary for at least another night, resting in her bed while she stuffs her fingers up your cunt all night long. She has to make sure you’re well rested and healed for next week’s race after all...

#jingliu smut #jingliu x reader #yukong smut #yukong x reader #tingyun smut #tingyun x reader #himeko smut #himeko x reader #hsr natasha smut #hsr natasha x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader #star rail smut #star rail x reader #star rail women smut #star rail women x reader

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sanguineterrain · 2 years ago

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redamancy | steve harrington

Summary: redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings/tags: friends to lovers, 5+1 fic format, no use of y/n, FLUFF, PINING PINING, injured s4 steve, hospital setting, general vecna angst (eddie's alive bc i will never kill eddie in my fics), bed sharing, happy ending, and kissing. if that wasn't clear. :)

A/N: fun fact: this is the first time i've written a 5+1 fic! technically it's 4+1 but whatevs. if you enjoy this fic, please give it a reblog and support your local steve harrington tumblrina.

divider by firefly-graphics

i. the promise

"Would you ever get married?"

You open your eyes. The setting sun nearly blinds you through the windshield. Immediately, you stick out a hand to block it.

You're still reclined all the way back in the passenger seat, because Steve's fancy schmancy BMW can do that. He frequently lectures you about doing it while he's driving. Have I taught you nothing? Road safety!

"I mean, I guess so," you say. "If someone ever wants to put a ring on me."

You sit up and pull down the sun visor. Steve turns. His hair lightens in the summer, shades of reddish blond peeking through. He insists his hair has never been anything but brown, fiercely pledging his allegiance to brunettes. You coo at his highlights all the same.

"I want to," he says after a minute. "I wanna get married."

You're parked down the block from your house. You should've gotten out ten minutes ago, but there's never any rush when you're with Steve.

"The line to wed you will be out the door, champ," you say around a grin.

"Hm. I dunno." He stretches in his seat. "Maybe if I was the same guy I was a few years ago."

You wrinkle your nose. "I doubt that."

"But what can I really offer?" he continues. "I'm just some guy who can't get into college."

"That doesn't mean no one will marry you. Some people who go to college are dumber than dirt. They get married. College has nothing to do with it. You can go, if you really want to. One rejection doesn't say anything about you, Steve."

"I guess."

You pull the lever on the side. The seat shoots up with a brrrap! It clicks as you straighten.

"Where did all this come from, anyway?" you ask.

Steve shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiles. "I like to live on the edge."

"Contemplating marriage like the world's biggest sap. Definitely edgy."

Steve hums. His hands are in his lap. He picks at a cuticle, a habit he’s recently developed. You wonder why he’s so anxious.

"Two people from our graduating class got married last week."

Your eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Lisa Schell and Gary Brewer."

"Wait, didn't she cheat on him?"

"Yeah, but he slept with her sister, so I guess they called it even."

You shake your head. "That's insane. They're literally babies, Steve. That's like Dustin getting married."

Steve scowls. "He's not allowed to get married before me."

"Not even to his possibly fictional Suzie?"

"Not even to her."

You stare at the freckles on Steve's face and how his frizz kind of looks like a halo in the light. You imagine the feel of his hair in your hands, the warmth of his scalp.

"I'd marry you," you say.

Steve's eyebrows shoot up.

"What?"

"Like, if you were in a pinch."

He looks at you sideways. You flatten, then scrunch your hands over your knees. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth.

"I'm talking about spending the rest of my life with someone, you know. Not borrowing fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks is a lot of money for some of us, Harrington."

"That’s probably how much Lisa's wedding dress cost."

"I hope she kept the receipt."

Silence descends. A soft breeze blows through your cracked window. You want to search Steve's glove box for gum, but you've just told him you'd marry him, so you can't do anything except think about the fact that those words came out of your mouth.

"Are you…" Steve begins, then pauses. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you're worried, for some incomprehensible reason, that no one will marry you."

"I scoop ice cream for a living."

You level him with a look.

"Steve. We're kids. Cut yourself some slack."

His eyes turn hollow. They've been doing that lately. You wish you knew why.

"I don't really feel like a kid these days," he says.

Something about the way Steve sounds makes you want to climb over the console and curl into him, cradle his head to your neck. Which is crazy. You guys don't do that. Steve isn't yours to do that with.

"Let's make a pact," you say softly.

He meets your eye. "A pact?"

"Mmhm. Let's say if both of us aren't married by… thirty, then we'll get married."

"Well, I don't want a pity marriage."

You roll your eyes. "It's not a pity marriage, Steve."

"Thirty is so late! You really think I won't be married by then?" he asks.

"No, I don't think that. I already said folks will be lined up to marry you," you say.

"I can't wait till I'm thirty."

"Or you'll turn into an old maid?"

"Meh meh meh," he mocks without any heat.

You purse your lips so you don't smile. "Fine. We'll split the difference. Twenty-four?"

Steve considers that. Really considers it. It suddenly occurs to you what you're promising and who you're promising it to. You wonder if you'll both forget about it. Or brush it off. Oh, what did we know? We were kids!

Except Steve doesn't feel like a kid. And maybe you don't either, as much as you wish you do.

"Do you mean it?" he asks.

"Of course I do."

"No, seriously." He's serious. "I mean it, so if you don't…"

"Steve, I said I mean it. I do."

"You'll marry me?"

"I will."

"Swear on it."

You hold out your right pinkie out, waiting. Steve hooks his finger over yours. Impulsively, you kiss your linked pinkies. To show that you really, truly mean it.

You try to picture it. What walking down the aisle to meet Steve at the altar would feel like. You wonder if he'd keep his hair long, like it is now. You like it long. Would he keep it long for you?

"Will you buy me a ring?" you ask. "If we get married, I mean."

"Of course I'd buy you a ring," Steve says. "I'd get you anything you wanted."

"Okay." Your heart hammers in your chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Alright. Want me to pull up to the door?"

"No, it's fine. Walking is good for digestion. Those milkshakes were no joke."

Steve smiles. He has such a lovely smile. His Cupid's bow is shaped exactly like a heart.

"Same time tomorrow? It's movie night."

Right. Your movie night. A semi-regular occasion that includes you, Steve, Robin, and the kids, sometimes. You've watched at least a dozen movies this summer together. Only this time, you're watching a movie after promising to marry Steve.

"Sounds good," you say. "Will you pick me up?"

"Always."

Another promise. You hadn't realized how many Steve makes to you.

"'Kay. See you."

You get out. Steve waves as he pulls away from the curb.

Your ring finger feels bare. You rub it, hoping the feeling will go away.

ii. the wound

The plastic chair has turned your legs numb. Your butt is about to follow.

Can butts go numb? You're not sure. You'll find out soon, though.

You rub your eyes. God, you need sleep.

Across the room, you catch Joyce Byers' gaze. She smiles at you, though it's brittle. You try to smile back, feeling distinctly like you might break if you stretch your mouth too far.

She looks away, and your not-smile falls.

"They'll let us in soon," she says, like she knows. She does know. Better than you, certainly.

The hospital smells cold. It smells like a place people go to die.

Your heartbeat ratchets. You shouldn't think like that.

"You don't understand," comes Dustin's voice. He's at the receptionist's desk, flanked by Mike and Lucas. Dustin's face is red and blotchy, near tears.

"I need to see him. You won't let me see Eddie, so—"

The receptionist rears back, like she can't believe three children are daring to speak to her.

"Neither patient is cleared for visitors," she says icily. "Now, for the last time: have a seat."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joyce begin to stand, ready to herd the kids away. You beat her to it. Out of everyone in this room, you're probably the only person who has the strength to stand.

"Guys, c'mon. It won't be long."

They don't look at you. You don't take it personally. An hour earlier, you'd cornered Dustin and forced him to tell you what happened. What's been happening.

So he did. And now you're here.

You don't blame them for glaring at the prickly receptionist. But you know that won't do anything. It won't heal Steve quicker. And it won't make anybody feel better.

"Hey, Dustin." You lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you like you're not Steve. You wish it was you in surgery instead.

"Come sit," you say.

"I need to see him," he tells you.

"I know." Your throat tightens, threatening to trap your words altogether. You rush to get the rest out. "I do too. But this isn't going to make that happen faster. Come sit with me. Okay?"

"He'll be fine," Mike says quietly. "They don't wanna get sued by his asshole dad."

You nod, because yeah, good point. Quite possibly the first time Richard Harrington has brought anybody comfort. He's in Cancun, last you'd heard. You hope he chokes on a margarita.

Dustin follows you. Mike and Lucas sit next to Joyce. The five of you wait.

At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake up, it's to the contentious receptionist peering over you all.

"Mr. Harrington is awake," she says primly. "You may see him now, young man."

Dustin flies out of the chair, Lucas and Mike at his heels.

A part of you wants to go home, and you feel terrible for it. You feel terrible that Steve almost died, but you're the frightened one. You don't know if you can bear to see him tied to tubes and a heart monitor.

"Go on."

Joyce tracks you sleepily. Her hair is more knotted than before you fell asleep. She nods to the hallway.

"Go see him."

You can’t voice every thought, every fear. I don’t know if I can see him like this.

“It’s good he won’t wake up alone,” she says.

“He’s got a family.” You wave your hand weakly.

Joyce watches you for a moment. Then she gets up.

"Yes, he does."

She holds out her hand.

You don’t know Joyce Byers very well. This is probably the longest conversation you’ve had with her. You realize, then, that you're wrong—you’re not the one who’s strong enough to stand.

“Let’s go see him,” she says. "All of his loved ones should be there."

God, are you really that obvious?

You take her hand, and the two of you go down the hall.

Steve is nearly unrecognizable in the hospital bed. The kids are speaking to him, unusually quiet. They look up when you enter.

Steve’s eyes lock with yours.

“Hey,” is all you say.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough with disuse and getting choked by what Dustin had described as demon bats.

“Boys, come on,” Joyce calls. “Let’s make a cafeteria stop.”

You see Dustin about to protest, but Lucas tugs his arm like he knows, and goddamn, you really are that obvious, aren’t you?

You wait for the door to close behind you. Then you walk to Steve’s side.

The gnarled ring of flesh around his neck makes you queasy. The rest of him isn’t much better, red and purple smeared across any skin that’s not covered by the chalky hospital gown.

You sit in the chair. It’s the same plastic kind as the ones in the waiting room, but this one doesn’t feel so hard.

“Robin called me,” you say.

Steve closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Your voice cracks. “Can’t believe you went dimension-surfing without me.”

“You’re mad at me.”

Your breath is punched out of you.

“No,” you say softly. “My God, Steve. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand creeps to the edge of the bed. His fingers are scraped.

You take his hand and lace your fingers together. He slow-blinks. He’ll probably fall asleep in the next half hour.

“It’s okay if you are,” he whispers. “Mad, I mean. I’d be mad too.”

You know he wouldn’t be, though. You know Steve would forgive you in a heartbeat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, equally as quiet. “I just… I was scared."

He nods. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

You bow your head and close your eyes. When Robin had called, you'd run to the bathroom and coughed up stomach acid.

They say he’ll make it, she'd told you, and you'd realized with violent clarity that you love him.

But Steve doesn't need that right now. So you bury it.

You lean in and bring Steve's knuckles to your lips, taking care not to jostle him.

His eyes widen. Part of you hopes he won’t remember this conversation.

"Don't do that again," you say. “Not without me.”

"Okay,” he whispers. “I won't."

You wait until he falls asleep, hand in his.

iii. the brand

“There’s no way I’m getting in your death van, Munson!” Robin whines.

“Death van is an exaggeration, Buckley. If anything, it’s a life van. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Definitely not because of that heap of metal,” Steve murmurs to you. You snicker.

It’s nearly dark, but a summer dark, where it doesn’t actually turn to night until well after nine PM. The top two buttons of Steve’s dress shirt are undone, and you can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing, really. You’d nearly missed Eddie’s walk across the stage because of that damned triangle of tanned skin and dark chest hair.

“Why can’t we take the station wagon?” Robin asks.

“I think Nancy already left,” you say. “Sorry, Rob.”

“And I’ve put my car jacking days behind me,” Eddie announces, flinging his arms out. “So my van it shall be!”

Robin whips her head around to glare at Steve.

“This is your fault,” she accuses scathingly.

“Me?!”

“You just had to go and get a flat tire yesterday.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you add cheekily. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen the dreaded timeline where Eddie drives?”

“Et tu?” Eddie asks. “I’m hurt. I’m a great driver, y’know. Better than Steve, some have told me.”

“Dustin only told you that ‘cause you were high on morphine and about to burst into tears,” Robin says.

As they bicker, Steve draws closer, so your arms brush. You close the distance, crowding him.

“Y’okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you. He looks like he’s searching for something. You don’t know what.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a minute. “I am. Better than, actually.”

“‘Cause I’m here, right?” you ask with a gooey grin.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re here.”

He sounds honest, so you turn away, because you can’t handle that and his chest hair.

"I should get to choose where we go," Robin says as you arrive at Eddie's van. "Since it may be our last trip and all."

"Funny you were in Band and not president of the drama club, Buckley," Eddie says dryly.

"Pot, kettle."

"How 'bout Rita's?" you suggest. "Unlimited refills and no one will hassle Eddie."

"Aw, you care about little ol' me?" Eddie asks.

"If you get us there in one piece, yes."

Eddie huffs. "No wonder you and the Hair are like this." He crosses his fingers.

"Damn right," Steve says. "We even finish each other's—"

"Terribly cliche sayings!" you say.

Robin looks at you for a moment, unusually smirky. Then she looks at Steve.

"You match. Blue dress, blue tie."

"That's so if she gets lost, they know who to return her to," Steve says.

You scoff. "More like the other way around."

He pouts. "Hey."

"Hay is for horses," you sing, skipping ahead to Eddie's van.

"I'm sorry, are you excited to ride in the Hell Van?" Robin asks.

You shrug. "We could use some excitement around here, couldn't we?"

"No!" all three say.

"I've had enough excitement for ten lifetimes," Robin mutters.

Eddie pulls the door open. Your smile quickly drops.

"Uh, Eddie? Where the fuck are the seats?"

"Right, so, usually I only have Gareth and Jeff ride with me. Gareth always calls shotgun—"

"Shotgun!" Robin hollers, and races to the front seat.

You stare at the single backseat chair. There's no way it's big enough for you and Steve.

"Holy shit," Steve says, taking stock of the "backseat."

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah… listen, if I'd known we'd be taking her, I would've put the other seat in, swear! Usually we take it out for the equipment."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Lay down and pray? This is how people get head injuries, Eddie," you say, arms folded.

"Maybe we can call a cab," Steve suggests.

"At this hour?" You shake your head. "No way. This isn't Indianapolis."

"Oh my God." Robin groans. "The solution is so obvious. Sit on Steve's lap. Boom. Now come on, I'm starving."

You tense. Steve is tactile, sure, and you've become acclimated to that over the years.

But this? This is way, way beyond that.

"Uh…" Steve glances at you. "Do you… I mean, if you don't mind?"

You glance at Eddie, who's got the tiniest smirk. You glower and he clears his throat, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair.

"I don't mind," you say, more confident than you feel. "It's a short drive."

Eddie nods. "Definitely. I'll step on it."

"Please don't step on it," Robin calls. "We're already chancing fate by letting you drive in the first place."

Eddie huffs, walking to the driver's side. "Y'know, Buckley, you are just…"

You look at Steve. He smiles at you, sweet as always.

"This isn't gonna aggravate any injuries, right?" you ask. "Me… sitting on you?"

You wince at the wording.

"No, should be fine. My PT gave me the all clear a month ago."

You nod tightly. "Right. Okay. You go first."

Steve climbs in, planting his feet on the floor. You go next, stooping in front of him. You catch each other's gaze for a moment. Then you laugh, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Steve.

"Right, so I'll just…"

You slide onto Steve's lap, trying to hold some of your weight so you won't crush him. He splays an easy hand over your belly and leans over to pull the van door shut. Your heart thunders in your chest.

"You can sit back, y'know," he says, breath tickling your ear. "’M not made of glass."

"Didn't want your legs to go numb," you joke weakly.

Steve makes an unhappy noise and tugs you back so you're fully seated on him. You angle yourself so you can look at him. Steve looks up at you, lightly tracing a pattern on your hip. Like you do this all the time.

"Hi," you say, too jittery to crack another joke.

Steve smiles gently. "Hey."

His tone is fond. You feel sick.

"Everybody good?" Eddie asks.

He adjusts the rear view mirror and you watch his eyebrows shoot up in the reflection.

"You two look cozy."

"Shut the fuck up, Munson," you mumble. "Just drive, already."

Eddie giggles like a gremlin in reply and turns the ignition.

It’s not bad, at first. Eddie takes it easy driving through Hawkins. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to attract attention. The other part is that Hopper promised Eddie a night in jail if he caught him running the stop signs again.

You personally think it’s a bluff. Robin does not; she’s enthusiastically annoying about road safety, and points out every single sign and red light. This causes Eddie to start slamming the breaks in retaliation.

“Holy fuck!” you yelp when Eddie hits the breaks particularly hard. “Eddie!”

Steve is quick to tug you backwards, considering you’re not belted. You scramble to grab his shoulders and twist to look at him.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles, then leans away, glaring at the front.

“Really, Munson?”

“She started it!” Eddie insists. “Blame your BFF!”

“Can you drive like someone who doesn’t have a death wish?” Robin shoots back.

Steve’s hands are now on the small of your back and on your hip, respectively. Your legs hang over the side of the carseat, butt nestled quite firmly on his thighs.

God, you’re never living this down.

“Y’okay?”

Steve’s breath in your ear makes you squirm. You turn to look at him.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie breaks again, harder than before. You slip.

Steve reacts instantly, his hand grabbing the meat of your thigh. Your dress rides up, so it’s skin on skin.

The momentum is worse, however, because you jerk back. Right into Steve’s face.

Your nose mashes into his, which isn’t great. But then, your lips smush against his cheek. When you pull back, there’s a smeared lipstick print.

Maybe you’re the one with a death wish.

Robin is screeching incoherently but you can't focus on anything but the smudge of pink on Steve's cheek. Your chest feels tight.

He looks like he's yours.

"Yeah, we're fine, " Steve says, voice close enough to startle you back into the conversation.

He looks up at you. Your hand lands on the lipstick, like if you cover it, it'll go away. Steve tilts his head, mouth open in a question.

"Sorry," you rush out before he can speak. "I got some of my, uh, lipstick on you."

He relaxes.

"Oh. Thought I was bleeding or something," he says with a slight laugh. "'S okay, I can wipe it off when we get there."

"Uh-huh."

You drop your hand. You can't stop staring. Stop staring.

The print isn't exactly in the shape of your lips, but it's close. You can see the divots and where your lips parted. If someone were to see you two, they'd assume a lot of things you're not.

Steve's collar is wrinkled from the van ride from Hell. His neck is flushed. You wonder how your lipstick would look there.

Eddie presses the brake, softer this time. Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your thigh anyway. More marks.

"Alright, relax, gang," Eddie says. "We're almost there."

You touch Steve's cheek again and hope he'll forget to wash you off of his face.

iv. the secret

It's raining. You're in Steve's bed.

Thunder shakes the sky. You curl further into your—Steve’s—pillow. It smells like his soap and detergent.

You used to like the rain. Not so much these days. Rain makes you think of blood on asphalt and being alone at twenty-four. Rain silences you.

"Do you think he'll come back?"

You've never dared to ask anyone. Not even Joyce. She'd know. She wouldn't tell you the truth, though.

Nancy Wheeler probably could. She'd face you with that steel brow of hers and give it to you straight.

Yes. The monster's back. You're not getting married.

You slip your hand into Steve’s. He squeezes your fingers. Outside, the rain roars.

"I don't know," Steve says into the darkness.

You can't see him like this. It makes you mildly claustrophobic. Maybe you should turn on the hall light.

"Hopper said he was dead. So did that other guy—uh, Murray. And like, Eddie's okay. And Max. El would tell us if she sensed something. It's not like he could come back without making a sound. I mean, from what she told me, she basically, like, unraveled him from the inside out. Which is pretty gross, but also a good way to keep someone dead."

He's rambling. He's rambling to distract you.

God, what the fuck are you going to do when you're twenty-four and unmarried and Steve's forgotten all about you?

"I don't want anyone to die," you whisper.

Steve squeezes your hand harder.

"No one's gonna die."

You shift closer. You can barely make out Steve's silhouette. The ends of his hair tickle your knuckles.

"Hey," he says, and you try to find his eyes, but you can't. "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?"

"Yeah," you say, even though something did happen, something that almost took him away from you, and you don't know if you can handle that again.

"You can stay here as long as you want," he says.

"I can go back to my room."

Steve threads his fingers with yours. You can't see his eyes but it's okay.

"Don't," he says.

"Okay."

You scoot forward, closing another few inches between you two. Now, you feel Steve's breath on your face. He smells like minty toothpaste. He is alive.

The rain batters against the windows. You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now, and no one would know except for you and him.

His breath has begun to even out. You lean in blindly. Your lips land on his hair.

It's hardly a kiss. It’ll be your secret anyway.

+ and, finally, the first.

"Dustin wanted chocolate milk," you say, not looking up from the tub of yogurt you're searching the date for.

"Yeah," Steve says, parking the cart to the side. "Kid's addicted."

He opens the giant fridge door and a burst of cold air nips at your arm. You shy away.

"Six dollars? Jesus, does it come from gold cows?"

You snort, finally putting the yogurt in the cart. You stay at Steve’s house more often than not these days, so there’s no point in getting a separate cart.

"What?" Steve asks, looking at you.

"You're funny, that's what."

"I am?"

"You sound like somebody's grandpa."

"I do not!"

"Do too," you say sweetly.

"Do not."

"Do too infinity."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm a grandpa 'cause I don't wanna spend a leg and an arm on chocolate milk for the little shit? So be it."

"Steve," you begin, eyebrows drawing together. "It's his birthday. Have a heart, old man."

"Oh, good grief," he mumbles, but he takes the carton and puts it into the cart.

You smile. Steve shakes his head.

"This is why I don't go shopping with you. You're an enabler."

"I am," you say happily, walking alongside him as he pushes the cart.

"And you don't push the cart."

You tut. "Pretty girls don't push shopping carts, Steven."

"Oh, they just find some poor sap to push it for them, huh?"

"I'm so glad you're on board," you say, skipping ahead to the chip aisle.

You look through the shelves and land on two types of Doritos. Cool Ranch and Original. It’s a tough decision.

“Steve, what do you think?” You hold up the bags. “Which do they like better?”

“Ranch. According to Mike, liking the original flavors of snacks is lame.”

You snicker and take three bags of the Cool Ranch. Steve pushes the cart to you.

“I feel like we’re shopping for our kid,” you say. “We’re the awesome house everybody wants to visit because we have the best snacks and the biggest pool.”

You look up when Steve doesn’t reply. He stares at you, expression unreadable. Your smile dims.

“What?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“Steve, seriously. What is it?”

He shakes his head again.

“Nothing, really. Just zoned out for a second.”

He continues to push the cart down the aisle. You watch him for a moment, then follow. The two of you quickly check off the remaining items on Steve’s list (yes, his actual, physical grocery list), and then you check out.

The cashier smiles at you both in line. She’s an older woman, with the typical poofy blowout nearly every woman over fifty gets at Brenda’s Salon in downtown Hawkins. You busily put the items on the conveyor belt while Steve takes out his wallet and makes conversation with the cashier. It’s a good routine you two have established.

When the cashier’s done, you squeeze past the cart and grab half of the bags. Steve takes the receipt and the rest of the bags.

“You two are very sweet together,” the cashier says, her round cheeks blush-red like apples. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve replies, and heads to the exit.

You’re frozen for a moment, startled until Steve calls your name. You heft the bags in your arms and hurry after him.

Steve stops and takes two of your bags before crossing the parking lot.

“Steve,” you say, and huff. “I can carry them.”

“Pretty girls don’t push carts or carry bags. It’s the rule, remember?”

You watch, unimpressed, as Steve then proceeds to try and get his car keys with an armful of grocery bags. When he almost drops a bag for the third time, you sigh and take pity.

“Which pocket?” you ask, snaking your arm around.

“Back left,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, feeling disgustingly fond. You shove your hand down Steve’s back jean pocket. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Take me out to dinner at least,” he says.

“Pretty boys don’t get taken to dinner until the pretty girl has been asked out properly,” you shoot back.

Steve smiles, but the joke doesn’t land like it usually does. You step away as soon as you get the keys, clearing your throat.

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about carrying all the bags, Popeye.”

You open the trunk for him, then go to open the passenger side door.

“If I don’t carry all the bags, how else am I meant to show off to the ladies?”

You pull the handle on the driver’s side for Steve and he gets in, beaming cheekily at you.

“The only person who’s watching you make a fool of yourself is me, big guy,” you say. “So, mission failed.”

You open the glove compartment and start fishing through for gum. You find a Juicy Fruit packet but it’s empty.

“Damn, that’s what we forgot,” you say, defeatedly crumpling the cardboard. “Gum.”

You start to turn to Steve. “Do you think we—”

You’ve wondered, probably more than you should, about how Steve Harrington kisses.

Now you know: tenderly.

He cups both sides of your face, and you have to brace yourself on the center console for balance. Your other hand tangles in his hair. It’s as soft as you imagined, free of product, and you scrunch the baby hairs at the base of his scalp. Steve makes a quiet noise.

You kiss until you need air. Even then, Steve doesn’t let you go far. You part with only an inch or two between you.

“There’s gum in the middle compartment,” is the first thing he says.

“Huh?”

“In here.” He pats the compartment between the seats. “Hubba Bubba. I got it last week.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s face with both hands. His hands slip to your arms and he squeezes, smiling gently.

“What?” he asks.

“Fuck, I’m glad I know you,” you say.

Steve kisses you again. Two. Steve Harrington has officially kissed you two times.

You hope you’ll lose track at some point.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things x you

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writersblockedx · 1 month ago

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Winter's Protection: Chapter Two

Pairing - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader Summary - Your bodyguard takes things a little too far when you're threatened at a party. Warnings - Reader experiences sexual assault, violence, drinking Words - 2.4K

Read Part One Here Masterlist

It was a strange norm to get used to. Coming down to the solider cooking, reading, living a life in your own room - without any invitation. You barely spoke. Odd bickering moments when you begged for privacy, but he always won such with the threat of your father.

But of course, the time came when you were once again invited out for drinks with your friend group. A time when you would usually let loose, leave any kind of security and escape into a free city. Alas, you highly doubt the winter soldier was going to let you go so easy. You did as you always did. Getting ready without even mentioning the fact you were leaving. Maybe then he would let you slip away, maybe.

Though, it hadn't taken him long to realise what was going on when you wandered downstairs with your hair in rollers and your glamour makeup glistening. "You're going out." The soldier observed, taking in your frame for just a moment before he stood from the sofa.

You pulled your handbag over your shoulder as you faced the man, "Is that a problem?" His head shook. He stayed silent; how predictable. "And, let me guess, you're coming with." Another silent nod of recognition that he had heard you.

A sigh fell from your lips as you headed for the door, the soldier trailing behind you. "If you've got to join, will you at least drive me?" You turned to him, uncertain of his response.

He gave no nod or shake of his head. He took a moment, and thought on it, before speaking, "Sure."

The soldier slipped into the front seat, slowly revealing his metallic hand that was once hidden beneath the safety of his leather glove. You watched him carefully, placing your bag at your feet in the passenger's side. "Where to?" He requested, switching on the engine, barely glancing at you.

"Roxie's." Your eyes followed him cautiously like he couldn't be trusted. The truth was, none of your bodyguards had ever driven you anywhere. Most of them didn't care to do so, some of them too incompetent. "It's downtown area, near the east quater-"

He cut you off, "I know where it is." He answered ever so bluntly.

So you kept your lips shut as he drove, taking all the back roads and shortcuts. You pretended as if you weren't wondering about how the Winter Solider knew where everything was, how he knew the bar you and your friends attended religiously every weekend. Each thought you had seemed tainted with blood. That seemed your only answer as to why the Winter Solider would ever attend anywhere you had been. He didn't have his freedom, he didn't have weekends, he didn't have nights off, he just had orders. Orders to kill. Or, in your position, to protect.

Even to your surprise, he was able to grasp a spot right outside the front doors of the bar. You didn't move until the engine was switched off. From there, you threw open your door, heel grazing the concrete pavement as you grazed over the neon light which seemed ever so inviting at this time of night. You took one step to the right as to join the queue which waited behind a red rope.

And then a firm grip took a hold of your forearm, forcing you to a stop. "No." He stated and guided you towards the front door.

He ignored your resistance. "What are you doing? You can't fight your way in." Your words were hushed but angered nonetheless. "It's fine, I don't-"

Your words became silenced as you faced the security of the bar. "What can we do for you?" One of them asked, obviously irritated at the pair who had stopped her from doing her job of letting in the crowd of customers.

You could only watch as the soldier placed his metallic hand on the woman's shoulder. It wasn't so much of a threat, it was an introduction: he was the Winter Solider. She quickly sucked in a breath and nodded, "Just through this door." She pointed behind her before stepping out of the way for yourself and the Soldier to walk through.

The two of you slipped into the sea of flashing lights and booming house music. One of which should have helped you ease. Alas, you found yourself in the mix of drunken youth, glaring back at the man. "What the hell was that?" You snapped at him, fury building up within your pupils.

"You wanted to party," He said, nonchalantly. "You're welcome."

You bit your tongue as to not let more anger fall from your lips. You didn't know what might happen if you were to fight back against the Winter Soldier. For now, you were happy not knowing, not testing the limits.

"Y/n!" Came a booming voice from behind the two. You turned, facing your friend once again, she smiled your way until her lips snuck into a smirk at the sight of the bodyguard once again. She gazed him up and down like she about to bite her bottom lip. If she wasn't your friend, you might rolled your eyes. "See you've brought your bodyguard, once again. What's your name, pretty boy?"

The soldier didn't reponce, barely seemed to even have it in him to look down at the girl. "Where are we sat?" You interjected, sensing the irritation that your bodyguard suddenly extruded. Though, it did have you wandering what the Winter Soldier name truly was, if he even true, if he even cared to remember a past memory.

At such question, your friend interlocked your arm with her own. "This way." She pointed to a back booth where old money kids and inspiring lawyers mingled. Also known as your only group of friends. "Oh, and you should know," Her voice became hushed before she continued, "Ryan's here."

The soldier must have sensed the way your chest tensed at the name drop, before you knew it, he was right at your side. You swallowed, "What-? What do you mean? I thought we all agreed to stop inviting him." You protested against the thought of such a touchy man slivering his way back into your life.

"He sort of just invited himself." She shrugged before tugging you along. "Come on,"

The two of you, with the Solider right behind, wandered up to the booth. It was already littered in empty shot glasses, glitter and vapes. Your friends all invited you in, even Ryan passed you a smile which you didn't return. One of the boys, one which came from a famously wealthy family, smirked at he gazed at the bodyguard. "Whose this? New boyfriend?" The soldier didn't move an itch but you still caught the way Ryan seemed to grit his teeth.

"New bodyguard." You answered, taking the glass of champye which was offered.

One of your other friends scoffed between her red lips, "Thought you were ditching all that?"

You gulped at your drink, "Can't upset Daddy dearest anymore, think he'll throw me in a cell if I run away from any more bodyguards." You explained, intending to leave out the part where said bodyguard was in fact a nortious assian for the taskforce your father ran.

Ryan drew forward towards the soldier, a firm hand landing on his shoulder. A movement of which was returned with a harsh glare. "Well, I hope you no how to have fun." He was silent. You watched carefully, wandering if he was about to snap. A moment passed. Ryan let his hand drop from the shoulder and grazed past your figure. "What great company you've brought us, Pierce." He laughed to himself. "Why don't you entertain me on the dance floor?"

There was a sick tone in his voice that made you want to throw up. "Never happening." You snapped back.

"Really?" Ryan smirked to himself. "I recall you having quite the night last night we danced together."

The memory flooded your brain in blurs. It was still disconnected after the month which had passed, still parts missing, yet the thought of what you did remember made your skin shiver. "I was drunk." You seemed to have to remind him - not that he seemed to care.

"Sure," He replied before returning to seats in the corner of the booth.

What you hadn't realised was that the expressionless soldier, had been listening to every word. He was smart like that. Trained to be an eavesdropping, trained to gather information. He watched as you tugged at your friend's arm, dragging her away from the wanna-be lawyer. "Hey, can we go somewhere else?" You begged.

"Bar?" With your nod, the two of you practically rushed away from your group, towards the back of the bar where you placed an order.

For a second, the solider lingered, his eyes trained on Ryan and then way he seemed to be flirting with every girl sat at the table. When he had enough of watching such, he returned to your side. "I want to punch him." He heard you say.

"I know." Replied the friend before offering you a shot of something alcholic. "Here."

You sucked in a breath, chugging the substance as it burned your throat. "I still want to punch him."

And so, another drink was handed your way. This time, with mixer. "It's a double, don't worry." Your friend assured.

Sipping at your drink, you leant your back against the bar, staring across at the crowded booth. "I can't go back up there."

"Okay, so don't." Your brow raised at her comment. "Come here." She extended a hand out for you to take. When you did, even with reluctance, she dragged you towards the sea of flashing lights and intoxicated customers.

From there, the two of you sipped at your drinks while letting yourself sway to the music. Smiles gracing at your lips, focused on nothing but each other. A while back, the two of you would have been on the hunt for someone to make your night worth wild. Alas, for this night, all you needed was one another. And the solider that still watched from afar, not seeming to dare let his eyes from your body.

But such bliss was short-lived. The booming chatter of voices your recongised soon came into earshot. Your entire group had moved from the booth onto the dance floor, Ryan included. Your eyes glanced to your friend, worry written in your pupils. You preyed he kept his distance. But that wasn't ever in Ryan's nature. For the first couple of songs, he kept his distance. For a second, you even relaxed. Maybe he wasn't about to try anything.

"I'm gonna get another drink!" Your friend yelled over the far to loud music.

Even when you shouted back, "What?" She didn't hear. Before you knew it, she was walking away, leaving you seemingly unprotected.

It didn't take him long. He clocked on to your vulnerability the moment your friend left. And like that, he swooped along side you. "You don't seem to want my company tonight?" Ryan observed, his words whispered against your ear.

"No, I don't." You thought you had made it abundetly clear. Maybe he was just dim-witted, or maybe he thought you we're playing a long game of hard to get. Knowing the size of his ego, you were betting on the latter.

"That's just too bad." He continued to speak into your ear. As his words left his lips, you suddenly felt the presence of his hand on your hand. You wanted nothing more than to swat it away, but your body seemed to bretay you; you froze in the same way you did whenever you thought of your last night out with the boy.

Your breath hitched. "What are you doing?" Seemed to be the only question you could muster, despite the desperation to yell at him to get his sticky fingers away from your body.

"Nothing." His smirk returned, as did your sudden want to throw up.

Such only worsened when his hand slipped further down. And it kept going. "Ryan don't-"

"What?" He acted smug, like he wasn't making your whole body crumble from the inside out.

When you felt his hand on your arse, you forced yourself to snap out of it. "Ryan." His name said with a stern snap. He didn't stop, we you felt him pinch, you shoved him away from you. "Ryan!"

Even with your words, he wasn't giving in. His smug expression never left his eyes. "What? Come on, I'm just having fun." You wanted to scream, and you wanted to punch him now more than ever. But God forbid a woman make a scene.

You put a firm hand at his chest, pushing him away with enough force that his hands finally let your skin. "Yeah, well I'm not." You snapped back at him.

You barely had a chance to take another breath before Ryan was suddenly bleeding. A harsh punch to his chin, enough to cause a brusie in the morning. Everyone stopped, staring at the soldier and his metallic hand, now tainted in spots on red. No one had time to do anything before Ryan was thrown onto the floor, alerting the fellow dancers of the scene. Several punches in and more blood casted against Ryan's sickly pale skin.

It wasn't long before a sea of the bar's security crew rushed in. But either their attempts to prey the soldier off were futile. So you found yourself stepping forward, "Stop!" Your hands gripped at his arm, yelling once again, "Stop."

When the soldier raised his hand for the next punch, he slowed. His furious eyes turning to yourself. They seemed to ease. "I'm going." You tugged at him further, a silence instruction that he needed to follow, because they were his orders, not to continue punching some egotistical dick. "Leave him." Suddenly, you felt a rush of power. Oneof which always made you feel sick. Having a human at your will, for whatever you needed, to obey anything you requested. A role you dad had seemed to take on effortlessly in the past.

And so, with the winter solider at your side, you slipped away from the scene. Your body still shaking. Though, you weren't sure if that was at the fault of Ryan's behaviour or watching how easily the Winter Solider could have broken the man in two for you. You wondered what else he had done to men. How easily he seemed to let his hands turn red, dripping with blood. You wondered how you would sleep at night knowing that was the man who now lived alongside you for every breathing moment.

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stormz369 · 2 months ago

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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 33

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: NSFW, MDNI, brief mention of trauma, public teasing, daddy kink, mommy kink, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, fingering, female orgasm, male orgasm, blindfolding, praise kink

wc: 3.55k

Chapter Selection

I decided to take Jason up on his offer to teach me to drive a motorcycle. He was simultaneously excited and anxious about it; he loved the idea of me on his bike, but he hated not being in control of the situation. We went over the parts of the bike, road safety, and the basics of how to start and stop the bike. He let me sit in the driver's seat for the first time in an empty parking lot, and when I grinned up at him I saw a brief flash of panic in his eyes.

“... Are you sure you're ok with this babe?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “You're going to do great, ma~”

I chuckled softly, kissing his cheek before putting my helmet on. He stood back, gesturing for me to start the bike. It roared to life under me, and my first practical lesson began.

We spent an hour going around the parking lot before he hopped on, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Alright, now you're gonna drive us home.”

“Really? … I don't even have my permit yet…”

“If we get pulled over, my name will fix any trouble faster than a permit would.”

I blinked a bit, leaning back against him. “... Is it bad that I kinda like the sound of that?”

He chuckled, stroking my hips. “Hm … maybe a little…” His voice purred through the headset in my helmet as one hand slid down to squeeze my inner thigh; “are you my bad girl?~”

I squeaked sharply, gloved hands forming fists on my knees. “J- JASON! You can't just say things like that to me! We are in public!”

He laughed softly, holding me close; “no one's around, baby girl~ I wouldn't do anything to embarrass you.”

I whined softly, blushing bright red. “... Y- you still can't do things like that … I won't be able to drive with that in my head!”

His hands slowly slid back to my waist. “Alright, I'm sorry princess~”

“No you're not…” I groaned softly, squirming a bit.

He chuckled; “... should I drive?”

“... Yes.”

He got off the bike so I could slide back to the backpack seat. When he got situated I smirked and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my breasts against his back. I purred softly; “You got me all hot and bothered … I hope you intend to do something about this, daddy?”

He jumped at that, sputtering as he spun around to stare at me; “wha- what … what?!?”

“See how cruel that is??”

He stared at me for a long minute. “... Doll?”

“Uh-huh?~” I giggled.

“... What did you just call me?”

“You heard me, daddy~” I purred, smirking. His hands trembled as he groaned softly, turning back around to drive. I wrapped my arms around his waist again as we flew out of the parking lot. “Woah! Jay??”

He grunted softly, driving faster than he usually did with me on the bike. “You are such a little tease. You do this to me on purpose, don't you? Getting me all worked up when I can't …” he growled softly, sending a flood of heat straight to my core; “… just hold onto me, baby girl~ daddy will take care'a you~”

I blushed bright red, giggling, and leaned against him. “Is that a promise, or a threat?~”

“Oh, I’m gonna take good care of my girl~”

I moaned softly, sliding a hand up his chest slowly. He growled, driving faster and faster. I clung to him as we spun around corners, and finally flew into the parking lot at home. I was thrown forward into him as he suddenly parked. In one fluid motion, Jason threw me over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding my knees against his chest so I couldn't kick. I blushed bright red, giggling like mad as he carried me up the stairs.

He spun around so I was facing the door; “unlock it.” I carefully pulled my keys out of my pocket, slowly finding the right one. “... Don't tease me, woman. Unlock the door, or I might just have to have you right here.~”

I blushed bright red, squeaking softly, and threw the door open. He stepped inside, locking it quickly, and carried me into the bedroom. I thought he was going to toss me on the bed, but instead he sat down, sliding me into his lap.

I dropped my keys, fumbling to remove my helmet. Jay tossed his own aside before squeezing my ass firmly with one hand; he used his teeth to remove the glove on his other hand, a cocky smirk on his face. Once his gloves were off he gently cupped my cheek. Mine came off as well and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he pulled me into a passionate kiss. He growled softly against my lips, drinking up my desperate whines. His hands slid across my ass before stroking down my thighs. “Want you~ want you so bad, baby girl~”

His lips began trailing down my throat, nibbling gently. I moaned sharply, pressing against him; “yesss~ want you too~ my Jay~”

He slid his hands up and under my shirt, fondling and gently squishing my sides. “God, you're so sexy~”

He pulled back a bit as he tugged my shirt and bra off. The second my breasts were exposed he buried his face between them, squeezing gently and rolling my nipples between his fingers. I whimpered softly, running my fingers through his hair as he kissed and licked. I pressed down a bit, delighting in the soft moan that bubbled past his lips.

His hips jutted up against mine, pressing his hard bulge against me. I groaned softly, rocking against him. “Ah~ Oh god, Jason~ is that for me?~”

He chuckled breathlessly. “All for you, baby girl~ gonna take such good care of my princess~”

He spun us around, laying me on the bed, and kissed down my chest. His hands slid down to the waistband of my pants, and he watched my face as he slowly undid them. I giggled softly, squirming out of my pants. His thumbs hooked under my panties to tug them down too.

“I love you~” he purred, almost reverently as he kissed my tummy.

I could feel my cheeks getting hotter as he stared up at me, slowly kissing lower. “Ah~ I love you too, Jason~”

He grinned, wrapping my legs around his head as he kissed my folds. I sighed happily, relaxing against the bed as he began licking and sucking. When his tongue found my clit, I gasped sharply, whimpering. “Hhhnnn~ y- yes~ right there~”

“Already so wet for me~” His tongue pressed firmly against it and my hand flew into his hair of its own accord, pulling him in closer. He moaned softly, gripping my hips firmly as he pressed his tongue inside to explore. My breaths came in sharp pants, and I was soon clinging to the sheets, desperate for anything to keep me grounded. It briefly occurred to me that I didn't understand how he kept going; he just did not let up for an instant. But as quickly as the thought came, it was overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure. Jason seemed spurred on by every little noise I made, pressing in closer, licking and sucking more until I cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as I came.

I collapsed against the mattress as he pulled back, grinning. I blushed brightly as he licked his lips. “God, you taste amazing~”

“W- weirdo~” I giggled breathlessly as he stroked my thighs. “Mhh … come ’ere~”

I reached toward him, whining softly, and he crawled between my legs, letting me pull him into a deep kiss. I stroked down his side, moaning softly. “You're still dressed…”

He chuckled softly, pulling back to take his jacket and shirt off. “Is this better?~”

“Mh~ it's a start~” I grinned, sliding a hand over the swell of his bicep.

He kissed my neck, stroking my sides. “Mh~ just a start?”

“Well, this is the … third time you've done something like this for me, but I haven't done anything for you yet. Do you want me to…?”

He blushed brightly, nuzzling my neck. “You don't have to do that, baby girl~ just want you to enjoy yourself~”

“I wouldn't be offering if I wouldn't enjoy it, Jay~” I smiled softly, stroking his hair. “... It's ok if you're not ready, or if you don't want me to, but … do you not want me to?”

He held me close, stroking my side gently. “... I … I don't know … I didn't think that was the kind of thing women wanted to do?”

“... Do you enjoy going down on me?” He blushed brightly, nodding sheepishly. “So why would it be so impossible for me to enjoy doing that for you too?”

“... I … I dunno … everything I've ever seen or heard about it is so … aggressive.” he frowned, looking up at me; “I never want to make you do anything you don't wanna do, especially like this…”

I stroked his hair gently. “I know, baby~ you're so hyper aware of that kind of thing. But you are allowed to want things for yourself too. If I don't want to do them, I know you wouldn't force me.”

“... You really want to do these things too?”

I nodded, kissing him gently. “I wanna make you feel good~ if you'd like to experience that, I want to do it for you.”

He nodded slowly. “... I … I've never … oh god …” he frowned, sitting up. His eyes clenched shut and he took deep, careful breaths.

I sat up beside him, holding my hand on my knee for him to take if he wanted it. “I’ve got you, Jay. You're ok. We're just talking right now, we don't have to do anything.”

He gripped my hand, pulling it to his chest. He shakily kissed my knuckles, breathing deeply. “I … I know … I just … It’s like … there are three voices in my head, and they’re all screaming…”

I gently squeezed his hand. “Well … are any of them screaming that you don’t want to do this at all? Cause that is allowed - we don't have to have sex. I will still love you and want to be with you, even if sex is never going to be an option.”

“No! God no, just … Well, the loudest one is just screaming. Like … ‘wait, is this actually happening?’ kind of screams …” His ears were turning pink as he looked to the side. “I’ve never done anything like this … not with another person, so … it’s scary, but exciting?”

“Yeah, makes sense. What about the other two?”

“... The second voice is screaming that if we do this … I’ll just end up hurting you. … I still don’t always have control over my own strength, I … I would rather die again rather than hurt you … especially like that…” He whispered, clenching his jaw.

I gently squeezed his hand. “Ok, we can work around that. There are plenty of options-”

“I know. I … I thought about that. That voice started screaming one day, and I said to it ‘well, that’s what handcuffs are for! That’s supposed to be fun, right? That could be hot even’ but … then …” He shuddered, shaking his head rapidly.

“Ohhh no, you are not ready for that kind of thing.” I pulled his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “It’s ok, you don’t have to explain. … What’s the last voice screaming, baby?”

“... This … sex requires … vulnerability. … I can’t be vulnerable. … I- it’s dangerous, … I … I know, … logically I know that you’re not going to hurt me, I don’t think you would hurt me, so please … please don’t think that that’s what I’m saying, I just …”

“The idea of being so vulnerable sends you to a bad place.”

He nodded slowly, clenching his jaw. “... I want to do this, I just … I get so scared…” he whined softly.

“Is there anything you think would help?”

“... I … can I cuddle you and think about it?”

“Of course you can~” we laid back; Jason's arms wrapped around my waist, his head resting on my chest.

I wrapped my arm around him, lazily running my fingers through his hair. He sighed, kissing my cleavage, and cuddled against me; “... so much for ‘daddy’ being able to take care of you…”

“You are taking care of me, Jay. By making sure we proceed in a way that won’t send you back to a bad place, you are making sure we’ll both be able to enjoy this.” I kissed his forehead and he whined softly, snuggling against me more.

We laid there for a while, almost dozing, until he looked up at me; “... Ok, I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“... Lights off, and … maybe we could just sit for a bit? And then I'll take my clothes off? No touching, just …”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Get used to the idea?”

“Yeah. Is that ok?”

“That's absolutely ok. You wanna do that now, or do you want to do it another time?”

“... Wanna do it now.” He nodded.

“Ok.” I kissed him gently. “I'll get the lights. … I'm so proud of you~”

He kissed back, blushing brightly. “Proud?”

“Of course; I know these are hard steps for you to take, and you're finding ways that you feel safe to try anyway.”

“Oh…” he smiled shyly against my chest, nuzzling into me. “... Thanks.”

“You're welcome, baby~” I slowly disentangled myself from him, getting up to turn the lights off. I sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. “Ok, I'm facing the door. You do whatever you want, at whatever pace feels right to you. Ok?”

His hand found mine on the sheets, and I felt him sit behind me, back to back. He was so warm, and he made me feel so small. I sighed happily, gently squeezing his hand.

“... You're really proud of me?” He whispered.

“More proud than words can say. You are so kind, and gentle, and strong, and brave, and you make the hard things your bitch.” He giggled as I rambled, leaning back against me a bit.

“... thank you … I know it's taken a long time to get here, but … you make me feel so safe, and I … I see a light at the end of the tunnel. … I'm still worried I'll trip in the dark, but … I'm not lost anymore.”

I bit my lower lip, tearing up a bit. “... I love you, Jason. I'm so happy to get to be someone you feel safe with.”

He shifted, lifting my hand, and kissed my knuckles. A moment later he set my hand down and climbed off the other side of the bed. I heard his zipper, the fabric of his pants crumpling around his ankles, and felt the bed dip behind me as he sat down again. Slowly, his fingers found mine.

“... I wish I could see you.” He sighed. “... I think it would help.”

“... I've got a scarf in the top drawer of my dresser. I could be blindfolded.”

There was a long silence. “... That … could work. … You're really ok with it?”

“Sure. You want to grab it?”

“Yeah…” I felt him move off the bed, and closed my eyes. He eventually sat behind me, tying the scarf around my eyes. I adjusted it a bit while he got the lights, making sure it was tight enough to stay on.

“... Can you … open your legs a bit?”

“Yeah?” I shifted my feet, and Jason sat on the floor between my knees. He rested his head against me, kissing the soft skin of my inner thigh. After a moment, he took my hand and brought it to his hair. I ran my fingers across his scalp, smiling softly. He sighed happily, nuzzling my leg.

“... Mh~ you're so beautiful, ma~ so soft, and warm, and cuddly~”

I giggled softly, stroking his hair more. “You're the beautiful one here, pretty boy~”

He chuckled softly, stroking my thighs gently. “Mh … can … can I …”

“Anything you want, baby~”

He paused before slowly stroking up my thigh, sliding his fingers closer and closer to my core. I got the sense that he was watching me, probably waiting for me to say no. I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my cheeks as his fingertips caressed my folds.

“... L- lay back for me, doll?” He whispered huskily.

I slowly moved to lay back, spreading my legs further. He shifted between my knees, pulling my hips right up to the edge of the bed, and slowly stroked my slit. I could feel and hear his ragged breathing against my thigh as he spread my folds. Slowly, he pressed one thick finger into me. I groaned softly, biting my lower lip as he wriggled in, far deeper than my own fingers went. I whimpered softly at the slight stretch as he added a second finger, and he froze.

“... Is … is that a good noise or a bad noise?”

“Good noise~” I moaned softly.

“... You'll tell me if that changes?”

“Promise.”

He nuzzled my thigh more, pressing his fingers in slowly. I sighed happily, rocking my hips a bit to guide him where I wanted his fingers. “... T- talk to me, baby. I … I'm really not hurting you?”

“Not at all, Jay~ god, your fingers feel so good in me~ c- can you curl them just a bit?” He did and I whined sharply; “ohhh~ yeah, just like that!~”

He continued slowly pumping his fingers in and out. After a moment, he started making soft sounds, like he was having trouble catching his breath. I whined softly, mumbling praises as he thrust his fingers in more.

“O- oh god, baby doll~ … I … fuck, it feels so good…” he groaned, kissing my thigh. “... Tell … tell me I'm good? …”

I grinned; “yes, you're so good, baby~ my Jay, my good boy~ taking such good care of me~”

His soft whimpers filled the room, just covering the rhythmic sound of skin rubbing together. “Y- … yes … please …”

“My Jason~ are you making yourself feel good for me, sweet baby?~”

“Y- yeah, … i- is that ok?” he nearly whispered.

“Of course it is, my good boy~” I grinned, spreading my legs a bit more. “Fuck, yes~ wanna hear you feeling good~”

He whined softly, and the soft slapping sounds sped up. His fingers curled inside me as he leaned forward, licking and sucking my clit. I gasped softly, moaning loudly. My hand flew to his hair, tugging firmly, and he groaned against my folds.

“Yes~ please ma~ wanna make you cum~ pleeeease~” he muttered eagerly, voice muffled against my mound. His fingers curled and wiggled like he was trying to pull my orgasm out of me. “Please, baby~ wanna drink you up~ wanna taste it~”

I cried out, tugging more. “Yes~ yesss baby, take it~ take what you want~”

His fingers pumped in and out, and soon he slid a third in. The delicious stretch made tears spring to my eyes and I cried out louder. He shuddered, whimpering softly as he licked up my slick. The sounds of his hand on himself sped up, falling out of rhythm as he desperately sought more. He whined sharply, sucking on my clit.

“Ohhh fuck!~ Jaaaayyyy~” I cried out loudly, my entire body shaking. He choked on a groan as he eagerly lapped at my folds, taking away every drop of my orgasm. Slowly, he pulled back, panting hard.

“O- oh fuck~ ma, that … that was … oh my god~” he chuckled breathlessly, tilting his head to rest against my thigh.

I giggled, stroking his hair gently. “Yeah~ god, you're incredible~”

“Nah, you're the incredible one~” he kissed my soft inner thigh, sighing happily. “Mh~ you stay there, I'm gonna get us cleaned up, and then … maybe we could cuddle?”

I nodded, grinning. “Please~”

He stumbled toward the bathroom while I stretched a bit. After a minute, I heard him almost whisper from the doorway; “tell … tell me again? Please?”

I smiled softly; “you are so good, Jason~ you’re my good boy, you take such good care of me, and I love you~”

A soft shuddering exhale later he was at the foot of the bed, carefully running a damp, warm washcloth across my oversensitive folds. “I … I love you too. …”

I reached toward him and he took my hand, kissing my palm. “Can I take the blindfold off soon?”

“Oh, yeah! Let me just …” He moved away, and by the time he was sliding the blindfold off my face he had put on a pair of gray sweatpants.

“Mh~ There’s my pretty boy~” I grinned, pulling him down to cuddle me. “How do you feel?”

Jason’s cheeks turned bright pink as he held me close. “Mh … sleepy.”

I giggled softly, kissing his pec; “sleep then~”

Next -> Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11 @bunniboo0015 @bibibusinessman

#fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd #dc fanfic #jason todd x reader #dc #red hood x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #chubby reader #multichapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

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malestransforming · 21 days ago

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That Time I Became a Firefighter

The screech of the sirens damn well nearly deafened Lucas. Two firetrucks careened passed him, pulling up to the smoking house just up the road he was walking along.

Ahead he saw a bright red engines stop in the middle of the road, and a dozen firefighters jump out and go to work. They were all dressed in light brown clothing, with orange and silver reflective stripes around their wrists, chest and angles. Amid the chaos, they ran around carrying ladders, hoses and other equipment. They seemed cool and calm under pressure: totally in control of themselves and without worry. Admittedly it was hard for Lucas to truly know how they seemed as many of the firefighters had their faces covered by a breathing mask, but still it was nice to imagine.

Lucas found himself paused now, standing on the sidewalk, and staring at the commotion with his jaw slightly agape.

“Pretty cool, right?” A voice called out from beside him. He turned and saw a row of firefighters standing together watching him.

“Yeah… It is,” Lucas stammered a reply. The whole scene really did feel alive with emotion, and while “cool” wasn’t exactly the best description of someone’s house burning down, being a firefighter certainly beat the excitement of Lucas’ job at the Apple store.

One of the guys stepped forward, away from the rest of them, towards Lucas. He approached with a sooted hand outside. Lucas saw he had a heavy looking metal cylinder strapped to his shoulders.

“I’m Dave,” he said.

“Lucas,” Lucas replied, shaking his hand.

Dave gestured to the people running around them. Lucas saw they were dousing the house with water. Several of them carried large, pointed poles. The damage was extensive, and the situation was dire, but all Lucas could focus on were the firefighters with their awesome equipment, incredible physiques, and amazing jobs.

“Wanna give it a go?” Dave asked.

Lucas simply nodded. It was all he had ever wanted. He wanted to be a firefighter more than anything.

The changes began instantly. Lucas’ muscles grew stronger and thicker. His jeans became tighter as his spine cracked and lengthened. Powerful biceps grew onto his arms, replacing the weak noodles he had before. All the better, considering how much weight he would need to be pulling around. The rest of his frame filled out, creating a wider, huskier and more muscled build. He was bulky and wide but he was still able to move quickly and with purpose.

In his mind, Lucas gained new knowledge about fighting fires and fire safety. Exercising and working out became the most important action in his life.

Dave stood in front, proud of the man Lucas had grown into. “You feel okay, brother?”

A dopey grin spread across Lucas' face. He absentmindedly flicked a tangle of hair out from his eyes. “Hell yeah, Cap!” Lucas responded, his voice lower and huskier now.

“Good. Go get your gear and help the guys air out the second floor.”

Lucas ran over to the truck where he knew his bunker gear was. He kicked off his shoes and shoved his feet into the black boots before pulling up the pants and hooking the suspenders over his shoulders. He tossed his bunker coat over his beefy arms and zipped it up. He grabbed his air pack and strapped it to his back, putting the shoulder straps down with a hard tug.

His SCBA air mask hung down by his legs. Lucas grabbed it and shoved it down over his head. He snapped his helmet on top and clipped his air supply into the front of the mask, breathing the oxygen with a sharp hiss from the tank on his back.

A voice came over the radio telling Lucas to join the rest of the crew at the front of the building and start pulling down debris with a pike pole. Lucas grinned, relishing the excitement of his career. He looked down at himself dressed in brown bunker gear, and ran his gloved hand up and down the rough fabric. He looked fucking amazing and he felt even better.

#male tf story #reality change #muscle transformation #jock transformation #male tf #male transformation #racial change #firefighter tf #firefighter transformation #firefighter

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starry-bi-sky · 2 years ago

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This is very inspired by @minnesota-fats post about Danny being Bruce Wayne's clone (which has been rotting in my brain for two days) but an au where danny isn't just Bruce Wayne's clone, but also not fully a ghost.

both ideas can be used separately honestly, the idea just came to me while thinking about the bruce wayne clone idea, and a lot of this idea is just "danny without his ghost powers. i might probably make a part two that delves into him being bruce wayne's clone.

Hear me out.

A Danny Fenton who has the ghost sense and the fangs and the pointed ears and the scary eyes and an increase ecto-essence, but does not have the ability to "go ghost". His accident occurred when he pressed the "on" button on the outside of the portal, and the button electrocuted him due to faulty wiring. He ends up miraculously surviving but not without some new additional abilities (and electricity-based trauma).

Since Danny no longer has a built-in alter ego with the invert wardrobe to match, he doesn't see the point to take ghosts back to the ghost zone. What the hell can he do anyways? All he has is a cosmetic add-in, a lower body-temperature with an impressive ability to hold his breath longer than a human realistically should, and a built-in ghost detector. Not very helpful if you ask him.

That is, up until he goes into the lab after his parents catch a relatively harmless ghost and sees them vivisecting it. He's horrified. He thought his parents were using hyperbole when he said they'd tear them apart molecule by molecule.

(Granted, he also believed that ghosts were unfeeling up until he saw this random ghost being absolutely terrified for its existence on the table.)

After an argument over his parents harming the ghost, Danny goes back up to his room and refuses to leave, not even for dinner. Later that night after his parents went to sleep, Danny steels his resolve and sneaks back down into the lab and releases the ghost back into the ghost zone.

This happens a handful of times, until, finally, frustrated, Danny tells the latest captured ghost to tell anyone inside that if they even think about coming through, he'll capture them and bring them back to the zone himself. It's for their own safety.

The ghost agrees, and goes back inside. Danny steals a "failed" thermos from his parents' stash of weapons. The next time that a ghost shows up, its the lunch lady from episode one. Danny manages to defeat her without being seen, but knows that if there's gonna be consistent daytime ghost attacks then he can't base his luck around fighting without witnesses.

So he fashions himself with a makeshift outfit. This really only consists of an old, nondescript hoodie and a plain black face mask. Its the best thing he can do at short notice, however. Later, for his nighttime ghost fighting, his outfit is only slightly better.

He considered using one of his parents' lab suits. But white sticks out at night and the material doesn't protect you from road burn. His outfit is pretty homemade, with knee and elbow pads under his clothes and multiple layers. A long sleeve shirt over a hoodie over a black denim vest he found on sale. He later on manages to make brass knuckles ghost-proof and manages to stitch them into his gloves. (he gets very good at sewing).

His favorite part of the entire outfit, is a Casey Jones-style full-face mask he found while thrifting. It allows him better breathability than the face mask he was using (calling Rule Of Cool law here), and he can use his scary eyes to make him look more intimidating. His gloves, his mask, and his thermos are the things he carries around with him constantly, and, later on, wears baggier clothing to hide the fact that he's wearing knee and elbow gear under his clothes.

Did I mention he has long hair? Danny has long hair (because GNC danny ftw, it goes past his shoulders) that he braids back. it's a bit sloppy but it keeps his hair out of his face well enough. He takes the fenton creep stick with him.

(He and Bruce have, ultimately, a more lean build than a bulky one. It helped Bruce with his Brucie Wayne persona big time when he had to look like a pretty skinny boy, he uses body language, optical illusion, and body armor to make himself look bulkier as batman)

He still goes by the name Phantom. He still has a bitter rivalry with his parents, who have no idea that its him. They think he's probably some other ghost with beef with the other ghosts (he still triggers their ghost sensors), and still want to capture him.

He doesn't talk around the living. He doesn't have any fancy voice changer and dropping his voice hurts and ultimately, he just uses ASL if he ever has to talk in front of people. The ghosts know his voice at night, but not during the day.

He hardly talks to the living. He avoids them like the plague actually. When he defeats a ghost and there's an audience, he barely sticks around to have a nice friendly chat. He tries to get away as soon as possible. He's paranoid over people finding out who he is. He doesn't have that ghost form to fall back on here.

Oh god this is getting so long, so i'll post another part soon.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dc x dp #dp crossover #danny fenton is a clone #dpxdc #his mask is casey jones inspired because i think its sick as fuck #it looks like a skull kinda and i think it plays into the whole 'ghost fighter' thing #his jacket has some kind of stitching on the back that's ghost like #he has a cartoon ghost stitched into his breast pocket

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leonw4nter · 2 months ago

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Warmth For The Winterfall

ID!Leon x GN!Reader ; roommates/house decorating || Leon Secret Santa || 🎁: @uhlillie 🎄: @leonsecretsanta <3

Leon's operations always proceed as follows: infiltrate, carry out, and slip out covertly. It's always that easy in principle, but in practice, things never turn out the way he had hoped. He's tired of it all; it's the holidays, goddamn it, but work won't let him take a break for even a moment. A gloved finger releases the safety catch as a far-off, rhythmic vibration brings him out of his reverie. He is driven insane by the absence of any other sensory cues than touch, sound, and sight, as well as the darkness trails behind him where his flashlight isn't focused. The experienced agent feels as though he is heading down a path with no assurance of return since the tunnel seems to go on forever in front of him.

“Hunnigan, are you sure this is the right one?” He asks into his comms, voice low. “I’ve been walking for 30 minutes but I did hear a noise earlier.”

He hears her type into a keyboard and click a mouse before she responds back to him. “Yes, I’m tracking you now and you’re exactly where you need to be. The tunnel is purposely long to throw any wanderers off; years ago, there were functioning gate systems for every kilometer walked but it appears that they’re not employed anymore and haven’t been for a few years now. Stay vigilant Condor One, I’m picking up a heat signature somewhere in the system. Stay safe.”

“Copy,” he responds before turning it back off to listen to his environment better. He sighs before he continues forward, unable to speed through things and wrap it up for the year– he can’t afford to do that.

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches a seemingly unassuming manhole in the ground and after receiving instructions from Hunnigan, he opens it with some effort and descends down the narrow opening. Before he can totally reach the ground, something grabs him by his ankle and yanks him down with enough force to smack him down; the impact forces air out of his lungs, stunning him for a moment as he tries to take in large amounts of air. He recovers quickly though, retrieving his loaded gun and aiming at his beastly assailant: an alligator as tall and long as a double-decker tour bus in the roads of LA, its scaly body covered in green grime and some sort of slime mold. The BOW lunges at him, its hideous maw wide open as it charges but Leon dodges the charge, aiming expertly at fatal points but his bullets do little damage to its thick hide; he realizes this, also recognizing that using a grenade in this space would kill him as well, opting to run to safety to avoid the gator as much as he can. Luck not being on the agent’s side, the alligator is a lot more intelligent than he thought it was, using its tail to slam Leon and send him flying into a wall, landing awkwardly into his forearm before a particularly nasty fall. Pain struck through him like a thunderclap, a resonant ache too powerful for Leon to ignore, amplifying the sickening awareness that something had been horribly misaligned. His consciousness was ebbing, bending to the will to cave into the fresh surge of torment, yet he managed to retrieve a grenade from his gear. With his good hand, he pulled the pin and sent it to the gator’s direction. Right before it explodes, he gathered whatever strength he had left to find the most secure spot around to duck in. A white-hot brilliance is followed by a roar that interrupts the air, from the grenade or the BOW Leon isn’t sure but he’s relieved that the damn beast is in chunks and bits now, turning on comms again to relay information back to HQ.

“Mission cleared,” he grunts. “Request back-up… broken arm…”

“Report your status agent,” Hunnigan asks to repeat.”

“Just said my arm’s broken,” Leon repeats with a slight edge of impatience. “Rat bastard flung me against the wall… goin’ to fucking pass out…”

“Copy,” she responds. “Hang in there Leon, I’ve dispatched a rescue team and they’ll be there in 20. Stay with me.”

“I’ll… try…”

He groans a little more, trying to limit movement in his bad arm as he props himself up from his previous ball curl position. Such a simple injury shouldn’t render him this weak but that hit was just too strong for him to make it out unscathed, his consciousness beginning to give way to a creeping desire to fall asleep. The world began to darken around him, vision unfocusing but he kept his resolve steadfast: if he could make it through this one, he won’t let the holidays pass without him letting you know your laugh, your kindness, and your mere presence had kept him fighting. He’d trade his silence for vulnerability because if he could survive this madness, he’d be able to survive the terror of telling you that he’s loved you from the start. He admires your mind, how your thoughts could dance between profound and playful, how you could say something so wise and crack him up with a stupid joke at the same time; he adores the way you make him feel understood and be his truest self, and how enchanted he is with the way you can be fiercely independent and also nurturing– your existence is proof that the universe fought tooth and nail to bring such a blessing in his dark life.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The scent of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, and a soft pillow supporting his head greets Leon as he stirs awake from his unconscious state. The blinds are drawn around his bed and his bad arm is now in a black sling, taken care of by the doctors who tended to him. He quietly groans, running his hand through his face and feeling the prickly stubble that’s begun to grow on his cheeks and chin. Somewhere in the room, he hears Hunnigan’s faint voice conversing with someone and since it sounded like she’s the only speaker present, it must be over a call. He doesn’t have the energy to eavesdrop, preferring to close his eyes and fall back asleep for a little longer but his FOS agent interrupts his plans, pushing aside the curtains and greeting Leon.

“You’ve been out for nearly an entire day,” she points out. “How are you feeling?”

“Crusty.” He deadpans, earning a nod from her.

“Makes sense.”

Silence fills the room again before the FOS agent speaks up again. “Called HQ today and field for a 2-month rest and recuperation period for you. You deserve it after 7 years of non-stop work. They’ll still need a written report from you though but I told them to cut you some slack since your arm’s broken and the holidays are right around the corner.”

She purposely leaves out the part where she nearly instigated an argument because her and Leon’s higher-ups refused to let him off, standing her ground fiercely and convincing them to let the man off the hook otherwise she’ll personally email the President herself and send in documented reports of over fatigue, violation on ethics, and liability regarding an overworked employee being denied a recuperation period; Leon certainly wouldn't like hearing about her nearly getting nasty with his boss so she decided to keep this to herself.

“Thanks, Ingrid. I appreciate it,” he says with a closed lip smile. “So, uh… when do I get discharged? And the hospital bill?”

“You’ll be discharged in about… 4 hours and the agency’s got your bill covered, just focus on getting better soon. Anyway, how’re things between you and them?”

A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lip though briskly concealed carelessly with a clear of his throat that gave away the simmering nervous excitement beneath his nonchalant exterior.

“I’ll do something about it soon,” he carefully responds, it being his tender affections kept lock-and-key in his heart. He looks up at Hunnigan whose arms are crossed, looking down at him with a look that shows that she doesn’t quite believe that that is all he has to say.

“What?” Leon asks with a shrug. “You look like you want me to say more.”

“Because I know there’s more than just that,” she points out. Leon looks down and stays silent, remembering the promise he made to himself moments before he passed out. “Don’t act like you don’t spend your work break talking to me about them and texting me at ass-scratching hours of the night because Jill and the Redfields are sick of you not doing anything.”

“Guilty as charged,” he says with a half-smile. He took a moment to collect himself internally, to shift in his hospital bed that will display a convincing feigned indifference that will redirect attention away from the telltale crimson burning in his ears. “But I… I promised myself that I won’t let the holidays pass me by without letting them know that I’ve loved them for so long, so that's something, right?”

“Mhm.”

“They deserve to know how incredible and precious they are to me but there’s this voice that tells me they’re better off not knowing, and I hate how much I listen to it. It sounds selfish of me but I don’t want them to walk out of my life just because I couldn’t keep myself in check.”

“Why do you think that they’re better off not knowing? Sometimes we assume that silence is safer but it can create a distance when there doesn’t need to be any,” Hunnigan begins. “It’s okay to feel scared but don’t let it rob you and them of a chance to experience something genuine. Do you trust them to treat you well, Leon?”

“Yes–”

“Then trust that they’ll handle your feelings with care. Certainly you’ve got reasons on why you trust them and I’m sure that it’s because you’re treated kindly and valued so why not trust them with your feelings? With your heart?”

Chapped lips parted with the intent to say more words but instead, a soft sigh of resolution is released. Hunnigan gave him an encouraging pat to his shoulder before walking to the other side of the bed, letting the nurse who came to do their rounds in. “Good to see that you’re back with us, Mr. Kennedy. How are we feeling?”

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In the meantime, he will have to accept rides from friends or use public transit a bit more frequently; his beloved XDiavel will have to spend the next six months gathering dust in the basement parking of his apartment complex. It will take some time to get used to using his left arm, and asking for help from others will make it even more difficult. He is unsure of how he will handle this aspect of his life for the time being, but he is aware that he will need to practice putting on shirts with his less dominant hand, especially sweaters and button-ups now that the weather calls for layering clothes. He will definitely miss the thrill and breeze that riding his bike brings him, but it's a welcome change if it means allowing his arm to heal properly.

The car ride to Leon’s apartment is filled with comfortable silence, neither agent energized enough to start small talk, especially at 2:17 AM. As he looks out the car window, blue irises meeting the sight of ice white like the sclera of eyes, he internalizes the fact that he’s lucky to make it to the end of the year, still alive to see another Christmas; the year has been rough, like last year and the year before last year, but he’s amazed at how long he’s kept going despite it all. Instead of the weariness and stench of his line of work sticking to him, it’s the stingy scent of hospital disinfectant that clings to him like a distant memory. He leans his head against the window, the coolness of the external environment oddly grounding as he thinks of his dear roommate and a clandestine focal point of his most tooth-rotting indulgent domestic dreams– you, who unknowingly filled in the cold and empty spaces of his life. Even when he’s out in the field, hyperfocused on the mission objectives, his thoughts always find a way to circle back to you: he swore to protect you from the horrors he’s faced, even from afar, yet he’s too terrified to ask for more of you. For the longest time, as a man who is no longer a stranger to losing people he cares about the most, the idea of being your trusty roommate was enough for him.

“Catch some sleep, Leon.” He cranes his head to look at his coworker from the corner of his eye.

“We’re still a few minutes away. I’ll wake you up once we’re there.”

Leon mumbles a faint ‘thanks’ before settling cozily into his seat, succumbing to the bone-deep exhaustion and dozing off to a light slumber.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He tries to keep his footfalls as light and muted as possible, a conscious effort to make the pads of his heavy combat boots lighter. Now, he stands in front of the door; he’s sure that you're fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the world around you as you’re somewhere in dreamland. Carefully, he unlocks the door and steps inside a dark home before locking it once again behind him; everything is neat and in order, just like how he left it 3 months ago, though the couch definitely looks a lot cleaner, the throw pillows have cases he’s never seen before, and the air smells faintly of mistletoe room spray. He walks down the hall, careful to avoid bumping into anything, and turns the corner where the bedrooms would be– yours to the right and his to the left. He doesn’t mean to be creepy or unsettling but as he stands near your door, he listens closely for any noise and to his relief, he only hears soft snores which ever so slightly tilts the corners of his lips skyward. Once he realizes that he’s grinning fondly, he brings a hand to rub at his stubbled chin as he chastises himself for foolishly folding for something as simple as a soothing slumber of the one person who unknowingly occupies all 4 chambers of his heart.

“Mushy,” he inaudibly scolds himself while still sporting a stupidly-in-love grin.

Shaking his head to rid his mind of such soft thoughts, he decides to head into his room and have the first proper sleep he’s gotten in months. He forgoes a shower– too tired to have one, fuss around with his sling, and wait for the water to run warm. Grabbing a clean blanket from one of the cabinets inside his bedroom, he kicks off his boots then lays down on his bed and drapes it over himself, laying on his bare mattress in his Levi’s and the same black shirt, his leather jacket now on the ground somewhere near his boots.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Morning comes, prompting you to start your day a minute before your alarm disturbs the tranquility. After your morning rituals, you cook yourself a packed lunch to bring to work in order to save up for a gift for Leon– that is, if work won’t hog him until Christmas. You’re not even sure what he likes aside from sleek watches and neat jackets, something within the bounds of your salary. A shaving set? Premium leather cleaner? A gift card to a popular barbershop in town? Something for a grill? Does he even own a grill?

“I swear, Leon, you’re so going to get Vaseline lip balm from me because I don’t know what you want that I can afford,” you tell yourself as you flip the food over to thoroughly cook the other side. “What the hell do you even do for a living to earn 6 figures? How are you still living in an apartment and not in some mansion at a mountain overlooking an ocean, seriously. Might just be a man thing.”

“Not really a big fan of huge houses,” a raspy and baritone voice coming from behind you responds.

Your heart leaps and lodges into your throat, turning quickly as your breath hitches while you come face-to-face with the owner of that voice with your eyes wide. A soulful, honest-to-god scream coming from the depths of your chest crawls its way out of your chest and it’s now Leon’s turn to be wide-eyed and off-guard, his face nearly mirroring the same shock from your own face.

“Easy, it’s just me!” Leon explains, voice tinged with his own nerves– too much for just having woken up in the morning.

“You scared me! Why are you freaking out?!” You say with a flinch. “What the hell, Leon?!”

“Smelled something good cookin’ so I got up,” he begins to explain as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Missed your cooking.”

Unable to form coherent words with the overwhelming blend of emotions, you opt to go in for a hug. In your haste, you don’t notice the black sling that nearly blends in with his shirt. To your confusion, he steps away an inch and politely extends a hand to place some distance between you both.

“Arm,” he points to his injured left arm. “I just got it treated yesterday so uh… we’re gonna have to find an alternative to the usual hugging.”

With the dramatic overload of information dumped on you all at once in under a minute, you end up sobbing instead and you’re certain you don’t look a single bit attractive which definitely won’t work in your favor if you want to woo your roommate.

“Don’t scare me like that again!” You sniffle as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand. “And your arm too, that looks like it hurt like a bitch.”

He chuckles and steps closer to you, bringing you into a one-armed hug as you press your face to his chest and cry a little more at him being back home safely, at the injury he sustained, and at the unintentional scare he gave you.

“It’s so good to see you again, Leon. I was wondering if you’d even be back for the holidays,” you say as you begin to calm down.

“Yeah, me too. I’ve missed seeing you,” he regrets his words when he sees your eyes subtly widen at his phrasing. “And uh… I’ll be here until March so you can have me as long as you want. Feels good to not be bothered for a couple of months, y’know.”

“That sounds great. You’ll finally be able to watch the DVDs you have stacked,” you motion to the neatly kept stack on the center table beneath the wall-mounted TV.

“You can watch them with me if you want,” he instantly offers. You’re not sure if his cheeks have always had that subtle flush in them or if his pupils are normally large, but you agree to take his offer anyway.

You finish up cooking your miraculously unburnt lunch, packing it in tupperwares as Leon watches from the dining table while he nurses a mug of instant coffee; it’s a little sweeter and creamier than how he usually has his but he doesn’t mind, you cared enough about him to even share some of the sugary coffee you enjoy. You chatted about whatever happened in your life while he was gone– being a contender for a promotion, a plan on adopting a kitten around the new year, unproductive coworkers making workload heavier, and other random things that come to mind. Leon chuckles and offers his own commentary, missing your voice more than he previously thought; he notes how your hair is now a little longer, there’s slight bags under your eyes, and you’ve got a new bracelet; he wonders from who.

“Sorry but I’m going to cut my yapping short, I gotta clock in to work now.”

He nods, getting up to place his mug in the sink before walking you to the door.

“I’ll be here waiting, it’s not like I can go anywhere with this arm.”

You smile and give him a kind pat to his right shoulder. “Right. Welcome home, Leon. Feel free to grab some sweets by the way, they’re in the left cabinet.”

He nods and watches you leave, only shutting the door once you’re out of his sight. Looking down at himself, he decides to take a shower but first: he’ll have to figure out how to put on the waterproof cast by himself and thoroughly clean himself up.

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In the days leading up to Christmas, your routine merges with his in order to help him out; frequently seeing Leon shirtless becomes the norm along with helping him put on button-up shirts, slip his arms into cozy sweaters, changing his slings, and cooking meals for two… almost like how couples do. Despite how often you see his chiseled midriff, fingers cautiously ghosting over scar tissue and lean muscles, you always require a breather afterwards in order to rid your face of that telltale redness. Just hours ago, your cheek brushed against his and you swear you felt him rein in a sigh from escaping his lips; you wished that he was feeling just as clammy and nervous as you were, hearts synced in beats and powerful emotions. His eyes trailing your movements as you secure his sling doesn’t help your confusion too, causing you to frequent ‘signs that he is in love with you’ articles each night. On a more surely positive note, his fast food intake has been reduced and he’s been enjoying healthier meals that you cook: constantly giving you compliments and his detailed praises for each dish and technique. You cringe at yourself whenever your mind automatically drifts to your wild imaginations at being happily married to him.

Leon finds himself unable to fall asleep; he’s tried everything– white noise, a sleeping mask, and getting off of his phone but to no avail. Each time he sleeps a little deeper into his slumber, images of the grotesque and macabre dance through his mind and drive him mad. It’s not like he can even get into his usual sleeping position due to his arm, preventing him from fully getting comfortable, so he sits up with a groan before slipping out his room and into the living room; christmas decorations are half-up, some adorning the room in festive reds and greens but there are some that appear as if they were placed there without a care, a little more of the decorations still in boxes. You did note that you’ve been busy covering shifts and working overtime, leaving no time and energy to finish furnishing the house in time for Christmas. Struck by a brilliant idea, he takes the initiative to complete the rest of the decorations so you’d wake up to a Hallmark movie dreamscape in the morning… and it’ll all be thanks to him and you’d smile real wide and call him charming– he’s getting ahead of himself, a mindless smile once again gracing his features. He gets to work on what he can, finding little to no trouble on using one hand for this task.

He shocks himself with how good and fitting his pairings are: the decorations, tinsel, wreaths, and holiday charms complementing each other a lot better than he expected. Maybe he should come over to the Redfields and help them put up decorations, Chris could seriously use some lessons on coordinating and matching. One break per hour turns into two then three and eventually, he’s conked out on the couch with a box of christmas balls on his lap and tinsel on his free hand; his mouth his open, head thrown back and some brunette fringe curtaining an eye. You’d love to spend the entire day giggling and describing the state you found your endearing roommate, teasing him to no end– the poor man woke up confused, seeing the first rays of daylight filter in and hear your muted chuckles as you took pictures of him.

“Fell asleep decorating?” you ask, though it’s a little pointless to ask: you know the answer.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck before setting aside the box and standing. “I couldn’t sleep last night so I decided to get busy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I seriously don’t mind. I could use some help since I’ve been so busy and tired so you’re heaven-sent for putting some of it up, thank you again. You’ve done so much for me already–”

“No, you’ve done so much for me already. Don’t give me all the credit,” he says with a timid grin.

You walk around, stopping around the walls and tables and in front of the tree. “You’re really good at this! You even swapped out some of the things I already put up– no biggie though, it looks even better now. Who knew Leon Kennedy could make a–”

“Hallmark movie dreamscape?”

“Yeah!”

The entire thing isn’t particularly funny or the pinnacle of comedy but you both find yourself sharing a fond chuckle and you feel your hummingbird heart rattle against its bone-cage and Leon already knows he’ll be obsessing over this moment all day long.

“You’re great at this, Leon– genuinely. It’s so… pretty and magical and basically the stuff of dreams. I love the arrangements, I don’t know what’s better to keep staring at: you or this Christmas wonderland.”

He’s sure to yap Hunnigan’s poor ear off all afternoon while you’re out.

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From that day on, he spends most of his days (and sleepless nights) planning the perfect confession: writing it down on paper, pacing around the room acting it out, and mumbling the words he’ll use. He knows he’s acting and treating this like a silly teenage boy with an out-of-league crush and in a way, he thinks you are: you’re heaven-sent, God’s apology for all the evil and scum in this world. He giggles and chuckles at the prospect of confessing to you, getting all wiggly until an ache in his bad arm cuts it short and causes him to wince for a moment before getting back to where he left off. Claire calls him delusional, Leon thinks he’s being a romantic visionary.

The sight of Leon’s brightened, reinvigorated puppy eyes stuck with you until you reached your workplace; those bedazzled eyes, coupled with his perfect smile, is the kind of thing that belongs to someone who has it all: charm, looks, and confidence. If there were already others interested in him, surely you can’t compete: he deserves someone bolder and more upfront, not just someone fumbling with half-hearted attempts to be seen by their secret darling. Every attempt to flirt and hint at your affections seemed to go unnoticed, his responses always polite but never suggestive of anything more; maybe you weren’t clever enough to capture the attention of someone as effortlessly suave as Leon Kennedy

“It’s not his fault,” you bitterly thought to yourself as you bit on the edge of your pen. “I’m just not that outstanding for him to leave an impression…”

“Who’s fault?” your coworker asks, peeking over their cubicle.

“Nothing,” you quickly dismiss the slip-up. “Work must be getting to me, I’m talking to myself now, haha...”

There’s already an ‘incident’ wherein you took the time to shape the foam in Leon’s coffee into a heart. “Thought I’d sprinkle some love for your day.”

“Lattes aren’t really my preference but thank you,” he responded that one embarrassing morning. “Mm, this is really good.” Despite him enjoying the coffee enough to take it to work, it still left you red-faced and ashamed of yourself.

Unwilling to let other embarrassing memories like these get the best of you, you push those thoughts down before they have a chance to simmer up and bother you so you occupy yourself with work.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I can do it myself,” Leon mutters half-heartedly though his predicament betrayed his words: the remaining sleeve of his favorite sweater dangling around his neck like a sad scarf.

You ignored his stubbornness, hands gentle as you fumbled with his sweater as you fixed it up for him before slipping his bad arm inside with tender care.

When the sleeve finally aligned, it’s as if your heart overrode your ability to logically reason with yourself and so, you placed a hand on his stubbled cheek to steady him. The touch lingered for a little longer, the seconds stretching on a little longer. Leon’s breath camps out in his throat, too terrified to make a little move and shatter the magic. Unfortunately for him, you took your hand back as if his face was a cup of hot cocoa too hot to hold.

“Sorry,” you whisper before backing off, leaving an achy emptiness in the blue-eyed agent’s heart. “Is it all okay now?”

“Huh? Right– yes, it’s fine now. Thanks, by the way.”

You nod, excusing yourself from his presence to occupy yourself with something else, the awkward void palpable than ever though you both know that you felt a shared crackle of something precious.

The night is all so perfect and cozy– a delectable Christmas feast, soft Christmas sweaters, and a comforting atmosphere settling over your shared apartment with Leon. You don’t want this night to ever end, for this feeling to dissipate come morning time. It’s now or never, so you direct Leon to stand with you in the arch of the doorway. Taking a deep and steadying breath, you let your feelings be known before the fear can ruin everything again.

“I know you probably think that this is sudden,” you carefully begin. “But it’s not. It’s been simmering for a year and 3 months now– each time you come home from some work-related thing or when I make you smile or when I help you out with your sweaters and shirts, there’s this feeling that threatens to crumble me deliciously and it’s all because of you.”

Leon tilts his head, unconsciously mimicking a confused puppy. “What do you mean…?”

“Under this stupid mistletoe that I placed while you were taking the pies from the neighbor, I can’t let this moment pass without me being honest to you: you mean so much to me– so much that if I lost you, I’d go insane. I’m completely, overwhelmingly, and all-consumingly in love with you and honestly, it’s impossible not to.”

Your voice trembled and if even the slightest thing didn't go your way, you’re certain you’ll cry from the immense pressure on you. You laugh softly, trying to soothe yourself as a nervous warmth flows through you.

“You’re not the only one,” Leon speaks up, voice thick with emotion, “who’s been thinking about this moment.”

He steps closer, cautiously perching his right hand on your hip.

“I was going to say something first but you beat me to it first,” he adds while sporting a tantalizing smile. “I planned on telling you later tonight but guess I’ll have to let you win this time.”

Your eyes locked with his, the weight of formerly unspoken feelings suddenly lifting and giving way to something charged. Taking a tiny step closer, you cup his face in your hands again and you sigh at how perfect the fit is.

“So… what did we learn?” You jokingly ask.

“That we both suck at keeping secrets?” He jokes back.

A shared and equally shy giggle erupts between you two like you’re both teenagers new to the whole shtick of love.

“So… you do know what being under a mistletoe requires us to do right?” he softly asks.

Beneath the mistletoe, time seemed to stop and the seconds that flowed were tinged with genuine nervousness intensifying as your faces drew ever nearer.

“I love you,” Leon says before meeting your lips with his, gentle and feather-light with hints of hesitation. It was slow yet sweet, sweeter than all the combined holiday treats you both had. The shared warmth and affection blurred the rest of the world into insignificance; each brush of lips were delicate like falling snowflakes. As you both pull away to catch air, you rest your foreheads together and share a giggle in the tingly aftermath of your first kiss.

NOTE - Happy holidays everyone <3 I would like you to give yourself either a tight hug, a pat to the shoulder, or both for making it to the end of the year. The year certainly wasn't smooth or easy for some of us but I'm proud of you for ending the year with me and the rest of us who deeply care about you. I hope that every single one of you are warm and cozy in your homes, with stomachs happily full from a tasty dinner, and content with your lives right now. If you're currently going through something, please hold on and stay strong: things will all be okay in the end and if they aren't okay right now then it's not the end just yet-- rest and slow down if you must but never give up <33 You got this and I know you do because I believe in you, sending virtual hugs and kisses to every single person who sees this post on their dashboards *<]:D !! If you're seeing this, thank you for taking time to read and interact with this post :3 I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune (the moving red line divider), @bernardsbendystraws (the Christmas lights divider), and @wcnderlnds (the red and blue snowflakes) + the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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