#storm pelt wc

[artaintfartwarriors]

[marmosetpaw]

[fern1eaf]

[fadedncity]

(blood)thirst

wc: 11.2k

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

cw: smut, supernatural!au, lycan!jeno, vampire!reader, natural enemies to lovers, a tad bit of a slowburn (i swear i ain’t mean for it to be this long 😫), injuries, blood, angst, mention of death and family loss, reader is technically older (physically the same age) so..age gap(?), flirting, sexual tension, teasing, pet names, oral sex, multiple orgasms, slight blood play (very minor), unprotected sex, pretty sure that’s it

song inspo: closer by nine inch nails | acquainted by the weeknd

a/n: i’m sorry for the wait, edits took longer than expected but ty for the patience 🙏🏽

TUESDAY [3:31 AM]

Rain pours in sheets, pelting against your skin. Your footsteps are silent as you sprint through the underbrush, hot on the heels of the Lycan ahead of you.

Even with his head start, it took you no time to catch up to him. Your pace matched his as you zeroed in on his steady breathing and rhythmic drum of his footfalls. Lycans are fast, and he hadn't even shifted forms yet. But still, you had no trouble keeping up with him.

All the while you closely trail the Lycan, you're cautious of your surroundings, keeping your ears peeled for any sign of a presence accompanying you both in these woods.

Just as you were about to fall in line with him, an unexpected sound sliced through the night—a whistle, followed by the unmistakable twang of a bowstring.

An arrow whizzed past your head, embedding itself in a tree trunk to your left. Stopping in your tracks, you tilt your head, seeing sparks and smoke emitting from the arrowhead now embedded into the old pine tree. But you aren't given any more time to investigate as you're tackled to the ground by the Lycan.

Before you could push him off, his body shields you from the explosion of blinding light so bright you could've sworn it was day for a split second.

He just saved you.

"Are you okay?" Jeno asks, rain dripping from the ends of his hair as he stands from the dirt.

"Yeah," you nod, hesitantly taking the hand he offers. "Thanks," you say, looking at the tree bark melting off the trunk.

The humans have UV explosives. Great.

Both you and Jeno hear the sound of cars approaching from the nearby road and take off running again. Without a word, you plunge deeper into the forest, your movements synchronized with Jeno's by necessity.

"How did they even find us?" Jeno asks, looking over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the rain.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."

The hunters were relentless, their shouts echoing in the distance, along with the pounding of their boots. You moved swiftly, navigating the maze of branches and roots with an ease born from decades of practice. The forest seemed to close in around you, the trees pressing in like silent sentinels bearing witness to your flight.

Then shots start firing off, the sharp cracks of bullets cutting through the air. It sounds like they were coming from every direction, the rain making it harder for both you and Jeno to locate where the hunters are.

A bullet soars past you and stops whistling in your ears when it hits flesh, tearing through skin and muscle. Jeno beside you roars out in pain and begins to slow down as the metallic taste of blood enters the air around you. You shoot him a look of concern over your shoulder.

"I'll be fine," he says. But when you see his hand pressed to his shoulder, blood seeping from an injury that should've already started healing, you know he's far from okay. "We need to get out of these woods," Jeno winces as he applies pressure to the gunshot wound.

"I know a place not too far from here," you tell him.

[6:37 AM]

The moon's silver glow was waning, giving way to the first light of dawn. The storm had passed, leaving the forest dank and muddy. Urgency rose as you were closing in on daybreak. You and Jeno raced through the forest, the scent of his blood and sweat mingling in the damp morning air.

Jeno's breath was labored, each step accompanied by a pained grunt as he pushed himself forward. The wound on his shoulder, though not fatal, was slowing him down.

"The sun's gonna be up soon," Jeno pants, his voice weary.

"I know," you raise your eyes to the sky, "But we're almost there."

As you ascend the mountain, you spot the entrance behind a thick curtain of ivy and moss. The camouflaged door was almost invisible against the rocky face.

The two of you approach the fortified door. But not before you start to feel the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles all over your body, a warning of the daylight's deadly approach.

The air grows warmer with the first rays of sunlight piercing through the treetops, casting long shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the ground, leaving you exposed. You scream out in pain just before you can reach the door, feeling the severe burns blistering across your body under the sun's relentless gaze.

Without hesitation, Jeno quickly removes his jacket and throws it around you, shielding you as best as possible from the searing sunlight.

You reach the door with trembling hands and enter the security code to unlock it. You hear the mechanism click and attempt to push the door open, but it remains stubbornly shut. The hinges, unused for so long, now rusted, obstruct your entry.

"It's stuck," panic edges your voice.

Using his good shoulder, Jeno presses his weight into the door, helping you push it open. The thick metal gives way with a heavy creak, welcoming you inside. The moment you both are through, Jeno slams the door shut behind him, enveloping you in the safety of darkness.

The flickering emergency lights cast long shadows across the walls, the only illumination source along the steps down to the bunker. As you descend further down, you can hear the sounds of the forest growing distant, muted, and distorted through the layers of earth and stone.

With the adrenaline from the chase already simmered down, the reality of your situation sets in. Here you are, a vampire, with Jeno, a lycan, forced into hiding together by humans hunting you both. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words only filled by the sounds of Jeno's steps behind you.

Your burns are already beginning to heal now that you're out of the sunlight. The cool, dim interior of the bunker feels like a sanctuary, the pain in your skin subsiding by the time you lead Jeno into a high-ceiling room.

"Thanks, again," you break the silence, returning his jacket. Even in the shadows, you can see Jeno's eyes examining your burns. "I'll heal," you assure him. "You, on the other hand, aren't for some reason."

"I'm fine," Jeno lies.

"You're not. You're still bleeding out. I can smell it."

Jeno stays silent, knowing there's no use in arguing with you.

"I'll go see if I can find the generator and a med kit or something," you say.

The underground facility is large enough to house an entire clan and well-equipped for emergencies—or at least it was once. The thick and impenetrable walls provide a sense of security, but the darkness within is oppressive, the silence deafening.

You move through the narrow corridors, blindly navigating yourself through the place. The emergency lights give off a faint glow, barely enough to see by. The bunker has an air of abandonment from years of sitting unused here. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and dust motes danced in the faint light.

Jeno isn't sure how long you're gone, as all he can focus on is the agonizing pain in his shoulder, further slumping against the wall to support his weight.

The lights finally flicker on, and you return with a med kit in hand, finding Jeno right where you left him. His breathing was shallow, face pale and drawn, sweat glistening on his brow. From where he stands, the light casts deep shadows across his face, highlighting the strain etched into his features.

"Sit," you say, opening the case of medical supplies on the table.

"I can do it myself," Jeno mutters, though his voice lacks conviction as he weakly pushes himself away from the wall.

"You look like you can barely stand on your own. You lose anymore blood and you won't be doing anything yourself anymore," your words are punctuated by the snap of latex gloves you slip on.

Jeno has no energy to protest. He drops his jacket onto a chair and peels off his shirt, sitting on the table before you.

You don't have much time to ogle over the Lycan's chiseled physique as your eyes are drawn to the discolored skin around the bullet's entry point. In all your years of existence, you've seen some pretty bad shit. But even this sight—Jeno's bloodied and seemingly infected shoulder, is enough to make even you wince.

"There's no exit, which is probably why you're not healing. Whatever specialized bullet hit you is still in there," you observe, examining the injury closely.

"Great," Jeno groans, throwing his head back. "Think you can get it out?"

"Sure, but it's not gonna be fun," you tell him.

"Let's just get it over with."

Using saline solution from the kit, you clean enough blood off his shoulder to be able to clearly see the entry point before you grab the forceps and carefully search for the bullet. Jeno clenches his jaw, deeply breathing through his nose with flared nostrils.

"I've almost got it," you tell him. You pick up the pituitary rongeur once you locate the bullet. Jeno grips the table's edge so hard you hear the slightest splintering of wood in his grasp. You pull the bullet out of Jeno's shoulder, his skin sizzling until you've got it out completely.

"Pure silver," you study the small piece of metal, holding it up to the light. "A few more hours and this thing surely would've killed you." You toss the bullet into a stainless steel tray with a clatter.

"Now it's my turn to thank you," Jeno grimaces, holding the piece of gauze against his shoulder as you silently asked. "Would've had second thoughts if I knew getting shot would be like this." he jokes.

"I don't have to tell you silver's poison to you guys but since it was lodged in there pretty good for so long your healing won't immediately kick in. But you should be good in a few hours," You wrap bandages around Jeno's arm, securing it with medical tape.

He gently grabs your hand, getting you to stop working and meet his eyes, "Seriously, thank you," Jeno says.

"You're welcome," you quietly reply, unable to pull yourself away or at least break eye contact.

A shrill sound echoing off the stone walls breaks the fragile truce. You glance at your phone and see Draven's name flashing across the screen.

You put some space between you and Jeno as you step away to answer the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "Draven."

"Are you alright?" Draven's voice is sharp, filled with concern and authority.

"I'm fine. It was the hunters. They knew about the meeting and ambushed us. Only Jeno and I got out." you reply.

"Where are you now?"

"We're at the old Valor safe house."

"We? You're still with the Lycan now?" Draven asks.

"Yes," your eyes flicking over to Jeno, who's having a similar conversation with his father, "I trust him. He saved my life."

"You're mother's daughter you are," Draven mutters on the other line.

"And what about it?" you ask, an undertone of malice in your voice at the mention of your mother. "How the fuck did they find us, Draven?"

"This is no time for that conversation," Draven lowers his voice, "I will say you might be better off where you are right now."

"What happened? Is everyone alright?"

"Seems the humans had planned a coordinated attack. We've been taking in vampires all night from all over the city. People are shaken up, scared, angry," Draven says. "It might take us a while to come out there and get you. Are you sure you'll be okay until then?"

"Haven't really had a chance to settle. Don't know what's left around here, not sure if there'll be much left to find."

"We'll try to get out there as soon as things calm down. It's getting late and after the night we've all had we ought to all get rest. Take care of yourself."

"Take care of yourself too, Draven."

You turn to find Jeno already having ended his call with his father.

"Everything okay?" you ask.

"My father said we should stay put," he says, clenching his phone so tightly in his hand that you worried he might break it.

"Draven said the same thing," you can practically feel Jeno's anger broiling from across the room, "But something else happened?"

"A few members of the pack got attacked last night. They're okay but they barely made it out."

"A few of our nests got raided too."

"And we're just supposed to stay here? They attack us unprovoked and we're just supposed to take it? Do nothing?? How can you be so calm about this right now? I mean aren't you angry?" Jeno asks.

You furrow your brows, "Of course I am. But there's nothing that we can do about it right now. We are miles away from the city, our people, reinforcements. And everything that happened last night was proof enough that we are severely out of league here on our own, okay. And let's also not forget to mention that it is daytime and I quite literally can't do a fucking thing right now," you say, "So we take a minute. We recuperate here. Heal," you nod toward his arm, "Rest," you tiredly sigh, rubbing your temples.

At this moment, Jeno was envious of how you seemed to keep a level head, now slightly ashamed of his outburst.

Jeno's resolve softens. "You're right, I just-" his words abruptly stop once he looks at you, "Shit, are you okay?" he asks, concern etched into his features.

Your brows furrow at his question before you feel the blood dripping from your nose. Somewhat embarrassed, you curse under your breath as you wipe the blood from your face.

"Yeah, it's just my body telling me I'm overdue for sleep." With not enough time to explain much else to Jeno, you say, "Doesn't matter which room you choose. Showers should still work and clothes should still be in the closets. Take what you want" before rushing out of the room.

He nods, "Thanks—" Jeno can barely get a word out before you've already disappeared down the hallway, locking yourself away in your own room, "…Goodnight, I guess."

[6:42 PM]

Lukewarm water sputters out of the showerhead, and you take note of the poor water pressure, silently cursing the antiquated plumbing. The water drips down your body in an inconsistent stream, making it a less-than-satisfying experience. You scrub away the remnants of the previous day, feeling the grime of dread and tension wash away.

In a new change of clothes, before you did anything else, you knew you needed to scour this place for a charger since you woke up to find your phone dead.

On your way toward the kitchen you find yourself stopping in front of a half-open door, peeking inside to find Jeno still asleep. He's sprawled on the bed, his brow furrowed even in his sleep, a testament to the strain of last night and this morning's events. The sight of him stirs a mixture of emotions as you watch his chest slowly rise and fall—relief that he's safe and a flicker of something deeper that you quickly suppress.

With your luck, you were able to find a charger as well as additional supplies to help sustain you and Jeno while you're staying here. It's not much but you'll take it over nothing.

You open the fridge door and to your disappointment, only find one bag of o-negative in there. You didn't even get a chance to feed yesterday as you were planning to after your meeting with Jeno. And we all know how that ended.

You don't dwell for too long, your attention immediately going to your buzzing phone on the kitchen counter.

"Hey," you answer.

"What the fuck?? Draven told us what happened, are you okay?" Tyra asks.

"Could be better. All I have access to right now is O, and there's barely any of that but the hunters are off our trail, so hopefully Jeno and I won't be stuck inside this ancient tomb much longer."

"You're with Jeno? Like Jeno Lee?"

"Do you know any other Jenos?" you ask.

"Draven didn't say you were cooped up with a Lycan. And him? He's like the hottest Lycan to ever grace this earth. Maybe he can help you break this dry spell after two centuries." Tyra lighthearted jokes.

"First of all, fuck you. Second, I wouldn't say all that."

"Are you telling me he's not hot?" she questions.

"He's…" you trail off, "Alright."

Tyra scoffs on the other line, "Why do things like this never happen to me? If I were you, we'd be settling more than just a peace agreement."

You laugh, "Yeah, I need a break from you. Maybe being stuck here ain't too bad."

"You sure ain't wrong about that. It's a fucking shit show here—just a second!" Tyra yelled to someone in the background, "I gotta go, I'll talk to you later though."

"Talk to you later, Ty."

Just as you hang up the phone, you hear the faint creak of a door opening. You look up to see Jeno emerging from his room. Now adorning loose dark grey sweatpants and a white button-up with about only two buttons fastened.

"Evening," he greets you, his voice husky from sleep.

"Good evening," you clear your throat, "How're you feeling?"

He shrugs with only one shoulder, "Like I've been shot. Took damn near half the morphine in the med kit for me to sleep a wink."

"You definitely slept more than a wink," you mumble, beckoning him over to you, "Do you mind if I....?"

"Be my guest," he effortlessly undoes the couple of buttons with one hand, letting the shirt fall off his shoulders.

You carefully unwrap the gauze, allowing the bloodied bandages to fall to the floor. Jeno watches you examine his wound.

"What is it?" he asks, seeing your brows stitch together.

"You should've started healing by now," you frown, seeing as his shoulder doesn't look any better than before. Instead, it seems as if the infection is spreading. And in your predicament, your options are pretty limited. "Do you trust me?" you ask.

"Do I really have much of a choice?"

"Not really, no," you say, grabbing his forearm with both hands, "I'm sorry about this."

"What are you-" But before Jeno can finish, you snap his radius in a clean break. Jeno's angry howl bounces off the aged stone walls.

"Jen-"

He growls, pushing you away, "Get the fuck back," Jeno glares at you with black beady eyes.

You keep your distance and watch as his shoulders heave and the muscles in his back ripple under his skin. Claws start to grow from his nail beds, and his ears stretch until they're pointed. You can hear the fabric of his clothes tearing as Jeno grows twice in size before your eyes. Roars of pain continue to rip from Jeno's throat with his transformation completely overcoming him.

Standing across from you is no longer the man you had gotten yourself acquainted with over the past 24 hours. Instead, this half-man, half-beast towers before you, baring sharp canines and a senseless predatory hunger behind his eyes, absent of his humanity.

You glance at the dining table, spotting your desert eagle where you left it this morning, and try not to make any sudden movements that could possibly aggravate the Lycan.

"Now, you know I was just trying to help," you say, your voice steady but soft as you slowly inch closer to the table.

Jeno's growl reverberates through the confined space, a guttural warning before he lunges at you with alarming speed. Instinct took over. You dodge Jeno, vaulting yourself into the air, flipping over him, and landing on the table gracefully.

Your fingers curl around the grip of your pistol, aiming your gun at Jeno before he can even think about charging at you again. Your finger hovers over the trigger, the metallic click of the safety being disengaged echoing loudly in the tense silence.

"Jeno, you've saved my life and now I'm just trying to save yours. Do not make me shoot you," you warn, your voice a low, deadly calm. You aim at his leg, sure to temporarily debilitate him instead of shooting to kill.

A beat of silence passes before Jeno's breathing begins to normalize. The wildness in his eyes gradually softens as his shoulders drop and his posture straightens. His transformation recedes, muscles shrinking and claws retracting until he is once again in his human form. You watch his eyes change from feral black to their original deep chestnut brown, now filled with exhaustion.

"Sorry," Jeno apologizes, his voice rough with lingering regret.

You wave off his apology, "Don't sweat it," With a click, you reengage the safety and lower your gun as you hop off the table, "It worked," you grin triumphantly, noting the lack of any wound or scar on his shoulder.

Jeno looks down at his shoulder and arm, flexing both experimentally. "That was extremely stupid of you, you know," he says, shaking his head,

"The moon isn't the only thing that influences your transformation," you shrug, "If you transform, your healing factor kicks in and it did. Besides, it's not like you'd be the first Lycan to try and attack me," you say with a faint, wry smile.

WEDNESDAY [9:18 PM]

"They wouldn't be able to find this place, right?" Jeno asks in a hushed tone like he was afraid to break the silence.

"I highly doubt it. Many vampires don't know about this place, I only do because I was brought here when I was younger," your eyes are still trained on the monitors in front of you, "However considering they shouldn't have been able to find out about our meeting, I wouldn't put anything past them," you tear your attention away from live surveillance footage to give it to Jeno.

"How do you think they found out?" The light of the computer monitors cast an artificial glow across Jeno's features.

"That's what I've been wondering since," you say, with a suggestive glance.

"What are you insinuating?" Jeno turns his chair toward you.

"I'm insinuating nothing. It's just interesting. Your father and Draven were supposed to meet but something happened last minute and neither of them could attend so they send you and me instead? And then we get ambushed. It's just not a coincidence is all I'm saying."

A beat of silence passes as Jeno thinks over your theory, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights from the halls filling the space.

"Are you saying that they knew?"

"I don't know your father much so I can't speak for him. But Draven..." you wince, "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Why would Draven risk your life if he thought it was a setup anyway?" Jeno furrows his brows.

You shrug, "He knows I'd be able to handle myself, and I did." you pursed your lips. "I'm not saying he knew what exactly was going to go down but Draven is pretty paranoid. He doesn't trust many people. So if he got a feeling he was being betrayed, especially by one of his own, he'd hold his card pretty close to his chest."

"He didn't tell you he was thinking any of this?"

"Draven doesn't necessarily have to tell me anything. I just know. He was suspicious of a mole within the coven, which is why I didn't ask any questions when he requested I go in his place."

"You're making it seem like this isn't the first time something like this has happened."

"Well not this particular situation, but close enough. I mean, you've met Draven. This ain't the first time someone would've tried to take him out," you smile, "Why do you think there are so many security cameras around this side of the mountain?" You leave Jeno to keep monitoring the cameras if he wishes as you go to take a shower.

. . .

Stepping into the library, your eyes adjust to the dim lighting as you find Jeno seated at a table. His expression is one of deep concentration and fascination, absorbed in the pages and pictures laid out before him.

"Keeping yourself entertained?" you ask, your muted footsteps shuffling into the room.

The glow of the old chandelier shines a warm, golden light from overhead, casting a soft halo around Jeno, "Yeah, actually," he chuckles, "Is this you?" Jeno asks, holding up a photograph. The sepia tones capture you and Draven in a snapshot of joy, the two of you laughing amidst a gathering of friends, your clothes reflecting the exuberance of the roaring 20s.

"Yeah," you murmur. Taking the photograph gently, a wave of nostalgia washes over you, "That was a long time ago."

It was almost adorable, the curiosity that glimmered in Jeno's eyes, thousands of questions swimming behind them. You roll your eyes, pulling the chair next to him out.

It was unexpected of Jeno to be able to draw you out of your usual reserve. It doesn't even register to either of you that minutes turned into hours stretching into the early morning.

"How long have you known Draven?"

"Too long," you laugh, "He knew me when back when I was still human. He's been around longer than almost anyone."

Too enamored in the pages before him, your eyes steal a few glances at the man next to you. You study Jeno silently as he carefully picks up each photo. He is handsome, and undeniably so, it's evident he's been blessed by Aphrodite. The way the light plays across his features only accentuates his striking looks, and you can't resist your admiration.

Trailing your eyes up his neck, your mouth waters, watching the beat of his pulse throb beneath his skin—Damn, I'm gonna need to feed again soon. You snap out of it.

Jeno's voice pulls you back to reality, "I recognize this picture. Who is this?" Jeno asks, sliding another photograph across the table toward you.

Your eyes flicker from the photograph to Jeno, "Where have you seen this before?" you ask, your voice tinged with surprise.

"In my house," Jeno replies, pulling out his phone, "My mother has the full picture." He shows you a family picture taken in the living room of his house. "She's standing right next to her," he says, zooming in on a framed photo behind his sister's head.

Surely, it's the full photograph. Your mothers, standing side by side, their smiles as radiant as ever.

Jeno watches the sadness fill your eyes as you give a small smile, "It's my mom," you say.

Sensing the shift in your mood, Jeno quickly apologizes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay," you stop him, "I just...don't talk about her much." The room feels heavy with unspoken emotions.

Jeno nods, not wanting to push further. "I understand, I'm sorry. I didn't know, I wouldn't have-"

You stop him firmly, yet gently, "No, Jen, it's fine, seriously," you rest your hand atop his, "It's not that I don't want to talk about her. It's just I have a hard time doing it sometimes."

Despite the somber turn in conversation, Jeno's presence is a comfort as he closes his fingers around yours. You weren't expecting to feel the warmth of his hand in yours, but it offers you solace. The silence returns, but this time, it feels more like a shared moment of understanding rather than discomfort.

"What was she like?" he asks quietly.

Flipping through the weathered photo album you thought had been lost all these years, a warm smile takes over your face. "She was beautiful. And funny, and smart, and full of love," you say, your voice tinged with pride and sorrow. "She was raised by witches, so she was no stranger to any of this," you wave your hand, indicating the room filled with arcane books and artifacts, "That's how she met Draven and probably how she knew your mom."

"I can't believe my mother never said anything about her."

"I'd understand why. Her death hit a lot more than just me pretty hard."

You knew it was coming sooner or later and waited for the question to fall from his lips. "What happened?"

"We were attacked by Lycans," you say, and Jeno's face is immediately taken over by guilt mixed with empathy. "They were infected with vampire venom." You begin to explain, "Usually it's harmless. The humans even have found ways to use it as another means to get high. But in large enough doses, our venom for you guys-"

"Turns us into rabid animals. I know, my father has told us the stories," sorrow and compassion are etched into Jeno's features, "I'm so sorry, y/n."

You continue, "My mom didn't care about surviving herself. She used her last breath to make Draven promise to save me at all costs. Next thing I knew, I woke up completely healed with a fatal allergy to sunlight and an insatiable bloodlust."

A heavy silence settles between you two as Jeno carefully chooses his next words.

"Do you know what happened to the Lycans?"

You shook your head, "Draven and a few others had tracked the pack across a few states but by the time he caught up with them they were dead."

"I'm sorry-"

"Please, Jeno, once was enough," you squeeze his hand, still unable to look him in the eyes, "I don't blame you or any Lycan for that fact. All that anger and pain," you let out a shaky breath, "I'm holding it for the right person."

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Lycans know the risk of vampire venom so they couldn't have willingly taken it. And I mean a whole pack?" your brows furrow, "Someone purposely infected them. We just don't know who or why."

"You know I could ask around see if anyone in the pack knows anything."

"Draven would've already thought to do that years ago already. Every trail went cold. A part of me has come to terms with the fact that we'll probably never get those answers."

Jeno nods, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I'll still keep an ear out. Maybe something new will come up."

You nod, a small but genuine smile touching your lips despite the heaviness in your heart. "Thank you, Jeno."

Jeno nods in understanding, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, a shared understanding passing between you. The library feels smaller now, filled not just with books and memories.

THURSDAY [8:19 PM]

This is gonna be a problem.

Each moment without feeding stretches into an eternity as you stare at the empty shelves of the fridge.

"What was that?" Jeno's voice echoes across the room from his spot on the couch.

Fuck, he heard me? "Nothing," you reply, closing the fridge quickly.

Your stomach growls insistently, hunger gnawing at your insides, and you begin to reminisce about that last bag of O-neg you had.

The thought of descending from the safety of the mountain to seek sustenance in the nearest town flitted through your mind, but the ever-present risk of hunters finding you keeps you rooted in place. You decide against burdening Jeno with your dilemma, as there was little he could do to remedy the situation without endangering both your lives anyway.

When you turn around, you nearly collide with Jeno's chest as he had moved across the room faster than you anticipated. He's standing close enough you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You keep your shoulders square even as Jeno's intoxicating scent invades your space once again.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Nothing," you repeat, attempting to sidestep him, but he blocks your path, his expression unwavering.

"You're lying," He narrows his eyes, scanning your face as he takes a step forward.

"No, I'm not," you counter, backing up until you feel the refrigerator door against your back.

"Then move," Jeno presses, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Why must I?" you challenge, crossing your arms defensively.

"You always this stubborn?"

"Since the day I was born," you grin proudly.

"Must I demonstrate how easily I can move you, sweetheart?" Amusement tinges Jeno's tone.

Sweetheart? Oh, we're going there?

You smirk involuntarily, unfolding your arms. "That's cute but you're just a pup, Jen. Let's not get too ahead of ourselves now," you teasingly pout.

Jeno pokes his cheek with his tongue at your comment and accepts your challenge. He starts by attempting to move you aside, but you catch his wrist in your hand before he can lay a finger on you. He tries to grab you with his other hand, but you're still faster, blocking his arm before you hit him directly in the middle of his chest, making the Lycan stumble back.

Jeno laughs.

You haven't moved from your spot, waiting for his next move before he launches himself into a series of swift strikes aimed at testing your defenses. You retaliate by throwing your fists almost faster than he can block, aiming for his midsection, and landing a hit. Jeno's knocked back a few steps, putting enough space between you both to give him time to catch his breath.

"Draven's right, you really do know how to handle yourself."

"Of course I can, that's how I saved your ass remember? Now we gonna keep talking or are you gonna show me something worth my while?"

The rhythm of this spontaneous spar intensifies as you both circle each other.

The kitchen area echoes with the sound of your footsteps, grunts of exertion, and the occasional light laughter as your movements adapt to one another's.

But it all comes to a stop in a silent blink of an eye, your back lands on a flat surface as you're pinned to the dining room table. You underestimated his speed, unable to leg sweep him as you planned, now your faces only inches apart.

Jeno gives you a lopsided grin as he looks down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes dark as they peer through silky curtains of hair. The tension between you crackles in the air as you have him trapped between your legs. The room's atmosphere seems palpable and charged with you both unexpectedly in this vulnerable position, but you neither move as the seconds stretch on.

Jeno seemingly snaps out of the trance first, letting go of your wrists and weaseling his way from between your legs. When he swings open the fridge door, the triumphant smile on Jeno's face drops as he stares at the empty shelves. "There's nothing in here."

"Exactly," you sit up, swinging your legs over the table's edge, "There're no more blood reserves," you say.

"And you weren't going to say anything?" Jeno's concern turned to incredulity.

"What's the point? The closest blood bank is 50 miles that way," you gesture vaguely, "And in case you forgot, we're down here hiding from humans who want to kill us."

"And what's going to happen to you if you go too long without feeding?" Jeno presses, his voice softening with worry.

"I'll start decomposing from the inside out," you reply bluntly, "But it'd be a while before that happens."

"So what, you were going to hide this and just suffer in silence for god knows how long we're stuck here?"

You shrug, "It could be worse," you murmur as if it would lighten the mood, "But what exactly could you do to help me in this situation?" you retort, a note of resignation in your voice.

"You could feed from me," Jeno suggests quietly.

"Jeno, I'm not drinking your blood," you shake your head.

"Why? Because you're above drinking Lycan blood, princess?" Jeno's tone is gentle but insistent.

You narrow your eyes at the use of the pet name, "I never said that. Blood from banks is processed and centrifuged, so it's essentially watered down compared to drinking from a live...donor," you explain, your words measured. "When vampires directly feed from someone, we get some of their memories, feelings, and thoughts. It can get pretty intense and somewhat very intimate. Something similar would happen if you were to consume my blood as well. Which is why I wasn't sure whether to give you any when you weren't healing, so—"

"So you broke my arm to trigger my transformation to heal me instead," Jeno interjects, his voice tinged with understanding.

"Yeah. I am sorry about that, but like I said, I had faith it'd work," you admit, your tone apologetic yet resolute.

"Do you not trust me?" Jeno's question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be refusing," you reply softly, "My bad I consider you a friend rather than food," your tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Friends, huh," Jeno muses, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

"Don't push it," you warn with a small smirk.

"When was the last time you fed?" he asks.

"Two days ago. It'll be enough to hold me over for another few days. So let's just hope we're saved by then," you say.

FRIDAY [7:50 PM]

"Jeno?" you call out, stepping into the common area.

Still no answer. You woke up to find the bunker suspiciously quiet. You already checked his room, and the lights in the library were still off. No TV was on, no shower being run, not even a creak of a floorboard. The usual draw of breath Jeno's lungs take could no longer be heard by your ears that had grown finely tuned to the Lycan.

If he's still here there's no way you wouldn't be able to detect him.

You reach the security room, your eyes bouncing around the screens, searching for any sign of Jeno. Your worry is quickly replaced with fury when you spot a shadowy figure approaching through the trees.

Jeno calmly strolls along the path that leads up to the main entrance with no sense of urgency in his stride. With his hands in his pockets—it even looks like he's whistling. He can't be serious right now.

When Jeno returns to the bunker, he finds you waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, your arms crossed over your chest.

Jeno flashes you the sweetest smile when he sees you, "Hey-"

"What the fuck?" you ask, brows stitched together.

He looks around, confused, "What?"

"What? Where were you?"

"In town," Jeno answers simply.

"You went into town?" you narrowed your eyes.

"Yeah," he mocks your tone as he drops his bag onto the counter with a heavy thud, beginning to unload its contents, "You needed blood. And since you weren't going to drink mine, I just got some more for you," Jeno opens a mini cooler, placing a blood bag in your hand, "Plus I was really starting to get tired of beef jerky and crackers, and decided to grab a few things for myself since I was already out."

You sigh, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions, as you hold the bag of AB blood in your hands. He got your favorite type without even asking. "That was extremely stupid of you, you know," you say, fighting a smile threatening to spread across your face.

"It was worth the risk. I'd rather have another run in with those hunters than let you die of starvation on the hope that our families will come get us in time."

"Seriously, Jeno, if anything had happened-"

"And as you can see, nothing did. I made it back home safe and sound, making sure I didn't leave a trail that could compromise us. You do know I am capable of handling myself right?" he says, "But if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were worried about me, sweetheart," he tilts his head at you.

"You're young, of course you don't know any better," you scoff, teasingly rolling your eyes, "What I'm saying is, I hope whatever else you got was worth it."

"It definitely was," he grins, pulling out a bottle of red wine. "Join me?"

"I don't drink ," you tell him.

"I know. I still like your company," You don't know why you feel fluttering in your chest, your heart doesn't even beat. "I mean with all this, I really don't wanna dine alone."

The corners of the lips curl upward, "You're asking me to have dinner with you?"

"Yes," he answers without missing a beat, "I mean it's Friday night, neither of us is going anywhere. What's the harm in a little normalcy role play?"

"Role play? We haven't even made it to dinner yet," you joke. You lean closer, "On one condition."

Jeno leans in as well, a curious smirk playing on his lips "And what might that be, princess?"

. .

The kitchen was filled with a mouthwatering aroma of sizzling meat, rich herbs, and melted butter. It was dimly lit, the only light from the soft under-cabinet lights casting a warm glow over the countertops. One of Draven's old jazz records you found plays softly in the background, its sultry notes weaving through the air.

You sit perched on a barstool by the island, wine glass in hand, watching Jeno concentrate intently on the stovetop. His hair's slightly tousled, a few loose strands falling over his forehead as he focuses on the skillet before him.

"Make sure you sear it evenly on each side," you call out, "You want that perfect crust to lock in the flavor, otherwise, you'll end up with a dry, sad piece of meat."

Jeno turns his head slightly, giving you a sideways look. "Yes, chef," he drawls sarcastically, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Anything else, or are you gonna go back to sitting there looking pretty, silently criticizing my every move?"

"I'm also simply admiring the view," you reply, meeting his eyes and holding them for a beat longer than usual. Jeno's smirk widens, and for a moment, the sizzling of the steak seems louder in the charged silence that follows.

"Where'd you learn all this stuff by the way?" Jeno asks.

"When you've been around as long as I have, you're bound to pick up a few things."

"Wouldn't have taken you for such a food connoisseur."

"Why, because I don't eat?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Well I don't eat anymore. I used to love cooking, when I did though. I loved the satisfaction of a good meal, good wine. It's almost better than sex." you reminisce.

"Almost?"

You laugh, "Let it rest for a few minutes when it's done. Don't rush it. The juices need time to settle."

Jeno nods, stepping away from the stove impatiently hovering, however.

The corner of your mouth lifted. "Patience not one of your strong suits, Lee?"

He scoffs, "I have plenty of patience," he counters, turning off the burner and setting the pan aside. He wipes his hands on a towel, moving closer until he's standing directly in front of you, a playful glint in his eye. "Especially when properly motivated."

You raise an eyebrow, "And what exactly motivates you, Jen?"

"A lot."

"Like?"

Jeno leans in slightly on his elbows, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of the wine on his breath mixed with the aroma of herbs and spices wafting in the air. "Proving you wrong is one thing," he murmurs, gaze locking with yours. "But maybe it's just the way you look at me when I do something right."

You somehow manage to keep your composure, "Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you're doing all this to impress me."

"Is it working?" he asks, eyes hopeful.

"And if it is?"

Jeno steps back, giving you a wicked smile as he turns to plate the steak.

.

Jeno had finished eating nearly two hours ago, but you two had still not moved from your seats. His empty plate sitting between his second glass of wine and your fourth of AB.

The low hum of the jazz record is now barely noticeable beneath the sounds of your laughter mixed with Jeno's.

You notice his gaze lingering just a little too long every time you meet his eyes, and the way his lips curve into a subtle smirk when you catch him.

Every time his knee brushes against yours under the table, a subtle but deliberate touch, your skin prickles with awareness. You felt the weight of his presence adjacent to you, the air between you simmering like the heat still rising from the abandoned stove.

Jeno's leaning back comfortably in his chair. His eyes study your lips as you take a sip from your glass, watching as you catch a drop of blood from the corner of your mouth with your thumb before licking your finger clean. Jeno holds onto every word that comes out of your lips, and his wavering eyes give him away.

You shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, but each movement brought you closer to him, your leg brushing against his, and that simple contact sent a jolt of heat through your body.

"Sorry," you softly apologize, already pulling away. You don't get too far before he's bringing you back.

"Don't be," He gently tugs your leg into his lap. His eyes never leave yours as his hand circles your calf, his touch soft yet confident as he begins to massage your flesh. "Continue," Jeno tells you.

You couldn't even remember what you were talking about. Jeno's eyes bore into yours like he was gazing into your soul, leaving you breathless, your nerves seemingly burning beneath his palm.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by the mounting tension, you stand. You think about clearing the dishes from the table so you can distract yourself from Jeno's eyes quietly undressing you or ignore how good it felt to have his hands on you and how you desperately yearned for more. But just as you're on your feet, Jeno takes your hand, and you let his fingers close around yours.

"You know what you're doing," you murmur accusatorially.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks.

"No," you sheepishly answer unable to look at him.

"Then why are you running, princess?" he asks, getting you to meet his eyes.

"I'm not," you protest.

"You are," he retorts, "Cause you only think it's fair for me to be the flustered one here, huh?"

You roll your eyes, all but verbally confirming his verdict, "You're enjoying this way too much."

"You have no idea," Jeno grins.

You hike up your dress with your free hand and straddle his lap. The space closing between you feels electric, charged with unspoken desire.

You cup his cheek as he snakes an arm around your waist. His skin is warm compared to yours, your fingertips feeling like an icy cold kiss on his cheek. You catch his eyes darting down to your lips once again.

"Do you want something, Jen?"

"Yes," his hand inches up your thigh.

"Then why haven't you asked?"

"Can I ki-" you don't let him finish, crashing your lips into his.

The kiss starts soft and exploratory but quickly deepens as the tension that's been building between you both finally finds release.

His hand travels up your back, sending shivers through you while your own hands take hold of his face, deepening the kiss. The world beyond the two of you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

You taste the sweet bitterness of the red wine on Jeno's tongue as it pushes past your lips, dancing with your own. His hands on your thighs set your skin aflame as they inch up higher and higher. You hum into Jeno's mouth when his hands cup your ass, softly squeezing.

Your hands travel down his chest, and you feel the contours of his muscles beneath his shirt, now wanting it so desperately out of the way. Your hips move on their own accord, dragging against Jeno's, allowing you to feel the outline of his cock through layers of clothes. Jeno comes up for air, heavily panting with swollen lips, staring up at you with lust-drowned eyes.

You barely process the time you spend in the air as Jeno lifts you by your thighs from his lap onto the dining table.

"Has your appetite not been satiated enough Mr. Lee?" you lightheartedly ask, hooking your finger in the belt loop of his jeans, pulling him close, and locking your legs around his hips.

"Not if you think I'm skipping out on dessert," he softly grips your thigh, hungrily attacking your lips once more.

Jeno's lips leave yours, traveling lower. His teeth graze your neck before latching onto the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Jeno," You moan, craning your neck to give him better access while your hands thread through his hair.

Jeno continues his journey south, his tongue flicking out to taste the delicate skin of your collarbone. You shiver, the sensation both ticklish and tantalizing. His hands familiarize themselves with your body, roaming every inch. Cupping your breasts in his large hands, Jeno litters kisses across your chest, gently tugging the neckline of the dress down.

Jeno's eyes darken as he takes in the sight, kneading your flesh, thumbs circling your nipples until they tighten further.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispers into your hair.

"You are," you mewl, your head lulling back.

"You know there's more I could give you."

"What else do you want, Jen?"

"To taste you."

Your words are cut off by a gasp, feeling his warm wet mouth enclose around your areola. The sudden suction sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He alternates between sucking and nipping, his teeth sharp enough to elicit cries from you, not of pain but pleasure.

You squirm on the surface of the table, wanting desperately to close your legs and relieve the pressure built between your thighs. Jeno seems to sense this. A plea falls past your lips when Jeno's fingers press into your throbbing clit through your panties.

"I can already smell how wet you are, sweetness." his voice grounds you back to reality, "I need to hear you say you want it."

"I want it," you say breathlessly.

"What?" Jeno questions with a smirk.

"You—god, Jeno, I want you," you roll your hips into his hand, "Please," you couldn't care less about how pathetic of a whine your voice comes out as.

The sounds of dishes and silverware clattering and crashing to the floor don't phase you as you lay down on the table, Jeno silencing your impatient whines with his lips on yours. Jeno then lowers himself between your legs, slowly kissing his way up your inner thighs.

He wastes no more time, not even bothering to properly remove your underwear, only pulling them to the side before kitten-licking your clit. You practically melt, feeling his warm tongue on your pussy. Jeno weakly groans as you entirely overwhelm his senses. He pushes your knees to your chest, his hands on the back of your thighs to keep you right where he wants you.

"God, I can sit here and eat you all night," Jeno darkly chuckles, savoring your essence covering his lips.

Spit dribbles from Jeno's mouth onto your pussy, his saliva mixing with your arousal before he parts your folds with his tongue. He tugs your clit between his lips, making you loudly moan. The sound was music to Jeno's ears, and he'd give anything to hear it again. He buries his face into your cunt, lapping up all the sweet juices flowing into his tongue.

"Fuck—don't fucking stop," Your eyes roll back into your head, every nerve in your body sparking with ecstasy.

Your hand finds its way into Jeno's hair again, curling around the dark locks, gently tugging. He flattens his tongue, vigorously moving his head side to side. You already feel the knot in your lower stomach tightening, too enamored in the pleasure you're getting from Jeno's mouth alone.

His skilled tongue slivers down to your slit, weaseling inside of you. The wet muscle explores you intimately, curling against your soft walls. Jeno hums approvingly, feeling the way your pussy pulses around his tongue. The vibrations from his mouth reverberate through your entire body, ascending you higher to your climax.

Jeno pulls you closer to the edge of the table, laying his arms flat across the backs of your thighs to keep you from writhing any more than you already have been. He gently pulls the hood of your clit back, swirling and flicking his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You cry out, your legs attempting to push back against Jeno's arms. But his strength doesn't allow for it, and he continues to eat you out like you'd be the last meal the man ever has.

"God, you're too good at this."

"What makes you say that?" he chuckles between shallow breaths.

"You're gonna make me cum."

"Duh, that's the point," a drunken grin stretches across his face, "Come on, I can take it, baby," he tells you before going back to tonguing your clit.

"I don't know, can you?" you tease.

A half-smirk stretches Jeno's face when he finally decides to add his fingers to the mix. Your back arches away from the table, two of his digits stroking your sweet spot in a come hither motion while he tongues your clit.

You cum with a loud curse of Jeno's name. You whimper and writhe atop the dining table, your legs closing around Jeno's ears as he's too concerned with lapping up your juices.

With a whine, you tap Jeno's shoulder, getting him to let up before overstimulation overcomes you. Jeno sat back, licking his lips of remains of your slick, wiping the rest of his face with the back of his hand. He gently rubs your thighs, helping you sit up, one hand holding your waist, the other cupping your face. Jeno's lips reach yours with the taste of you still staining them.

The high of your orgasm simmers down, the euphoric fog lifting. You slip your hand under Jeno's shirt, sliding your hands up his torso until he pulls it off, mindlessly discarding it. Your eyes fall from his face to his defined muscles, subconsciously tugging your lip between your teeth.

You palm Jeno over his jeans, grinning when you feel his semi-hard length in your hand even through the various barriers of clothes.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he groans, slowly rocking his hips into your hand.

Jeno shivers, feeling your tongue run along the side of his neck before you nip his earlobe, "You're one to talk," you say.

"Oh? So has your opinion of me being the hottest Lycan to grace this earth changed now?" he teases.

Of course he heard that.

You poked your cheek with your tongue. "Eavesdropping, were we?" you tilt your head.

"Technically, no. I can just hear everything," Jeno says, "Was kinda hurt though, when you said I was alright."

You laugh, "I'm sorry, babe," you kiss the put on his lips, "But I only said that cause I knew you were listening," you pull him closer, your hands roaming the contours of his body, "I couldn't let you know then how badly I wanted you to fuck my brains out the second we met."

"That makes two of us," Jeno darkly laughs.

Jeno picks you up, barely giving you time to process how fast he moves over to the couch. His hands snake up your thighs, reaching beneath your dress to tear your underwear off your hips. All the while, your fingers swiftly undo Jeno's jeans, pushing them along with his underwear down far enough to let his cock spring free.

"I've barely even touched you. All this just from eating me out?"

A growl deeply reverberates in Jeno's throat when you pump his cock in your hand. You swirl your thumb around the head, smearing his precum around the pink tip.

"Fuck, yeah. You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"And what exactly am I doing, baby?" You tighten your fist around his dick, and a broken whine falls from his lips as you swivel your wrist.

"Fucking killing me," Jeno throws his head back against the couch, "I need you," he desperately claws at your dress.

"I'm right here."

"I need to feel you. Be inside you—for fuck's sake, please." you silence Jeno's pleas with a kiss.

You lift your hips, Jeno assisting you as you guide his cock to your entrance. Your head falls back as you fully sink down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt. Your pussy hugs his length in a vice grip, gently pulsing, slowly sucking him further in.

"Holy shit," Jeno says, his eyes fluttering shut. "you feel fucking amazing,"

You don't even realize that you've moved from the couch until you feel the hard surface of the refrigerator against your back. Your head lands against the door with a soft thud, feeling Jeno deeper inside you in this position. He sets a steady pace, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. You cling to him, your nails digging into his skin, leaving angry red streaks in their wake.

Your face twists into a flustered scowl, "Faster," you demand.

Jeno dryly laughs, "Uh ah, I want you to feel it all, feel what you're doing to me," he slowly draws his hips back before sinking back into your heat even slower, "S'all for you, princess," he rasps.

Jeno takes time to revel in the feeling of your warm wet walls snuggly hugging his cock like a perfect sleeve. You feel every inch of him leave you empty before filling you back up to the hilt. It's torturous how agonizingly slow he's fucking you, and your patience is wearing thin.

"Jeno, please," you cry.

Jeno complied, the corners of his lips turning upward as he drew his hips back before slamming back into you, making your toes curl. The room becomes blurs of motion in your peripheral. The world fades away, leaving only the two of you locked in this primal dance.

You don't notice Jeno's brought you to one of the bedrooms until you're placed on top of a vanity. The sound of the mirror banging against the wall is drowned out by your sensual moans.

Jeno then stops, slipping out of your heat. You shudder now feeling empty, biting your lip to silence a whine.

Jeno takes a step back, never taking his eyes off you. He pushes his jeans down his legs the rest of the way letting them pool at his feet along with his underwear.

The tension is stifling. You let your eyes fall from his face, drinking him in in his entirety. You watch Jeno take his cock into his hand and begin stroking his length.

"Get on the bed," he instructs.

Your lips curl into a mischievous smirk. You slip your dress over your head, throwing it to the floor along with Jeno's clothes.

Jeno already heard the words before they came out of your mouth, "Make me."

He rolls his eyes before throwing you over his shoulder and tossing you onto the bed. You land on the mattress with a soft bounce, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You teasingly turn away from Jeno to crawl your way up to the pillows but before you can get too far, Jeno grabs your ankle pulling you back to the edge of the bed.

You arch your hips into the air as Jeno trail his hand down your spine. Jeno runs his fingers between your folds, coating his fingers in your arousal. "God, look at how wet you are just for me, princess," Your jaw drops, feeling one, then two of Jeno's fingers curl against your walls. You push your hips back against his hand, your head falling to the sheets, muffling your low groans.

He parts your folds with the tip of his cock, teasing your clit. You see stars behind your lids, feeling the delicious stretch of your pussy accommodating his size. Jeno's fingernails leave crescent shape impressions on your ass as he spears into your drooling cunt.

Jeno cages you in beneath him with his arms. You feel his chest against your back every time your hips meet. Jeno grabs onto the headboard for leverage. His hips snapping back and forth with a speed and power that leaves you gasping for breath.

Each thrust is deeper than the last, filling you completely and making you feel utterly possessed.

Jeno snakes his arm around your waist, reaching between your thighs. His fingers quickly find your clit, pinching and rolling your bundle of nerves between them. You squirm in Jeno's arms, your body involuntarily twisting and jerking as you feel heat blooming in your abdomen.

Mindless blubber stumbles out of your lips as Jeno kisses the side of your neck.

"What was that, beautiful?"

"Good. So good—god, Jeno," your head falls back into his shoulder.

His arms flex, keeping you flush against his chest. Jeno lowly moans in your ear, feeling your walls flutter around his cock.

"You close, baby?"

"Yes m'so fucking close," you pant.

"Cum for me. Let me feel your pretty pussy cream my cock, sweetheart" he smiles, feeling the way your body reacts to his words.

Your body tenses, preparing for release, and Jeno senses it. With a deep grunt, he doubles down on his efforts, his thrusts growing nearly ferocious in their fervor.

Your fangs grows on the their own volition, triggered by the euphoria coursing through your veins.

"Jeno—fuck!"

Your hips rock along with Jeno's chasing the high of your orgasm. Your nails lightly scrape Jeno's scalp as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your nails dig into Jeno's forearms, just breaking the skin barely drawing blood. The wounds close just as fast as they appear. Jeno deeply grunts, his hips stuttering against yours as his cock twitches from the pain of your nails in his skin. He releases his load inside of you, pumping you full.

"Fuck," Jeno gently pants into your ear.

Jeno's damp skin clings to yours, regardless of the discomfort, you keep holding him close. The steady drum of his heart beating in his chest against your back soothes you out of your post orgasmic stupor.

Your pussy continues to gently flutter around his cock. Jeno pulls out before he's too overstimulated but he's quick to replace his cock with his hand as you slump against his chest. He swallows your moans, your thighs clenching around his hand.

"I'm gonna need a minute," he tells slowly circling your clit, "But my god, you're insatiable. I'd do anything to see those cute fangs again," he teases.

Your lips meet again, and Jeno sucks your bottom lips into his mouth, sinking his teeth in and drawing blood. He smears the blood on your lips before grabbing your jaw and initiating a passionate kiss, the taste of copper staining both of your lips.

"Don't start something you can't finish." You lick the few drops from Jeno's lip, quickly healing the wound before pulling away.

"Oh you know I'll do more than finish it."

SATURDAY [7:29 PM]

You and Jeno both hadn't gone to sleep until the sun had risen, so it's no surprise you find him still sound asleep beside you when your eyes first flutter open. You snuggle closer to Jeno, stealing his body heat as you find it comforting enough to put you back to sleep.

But the sound of a blaring alarm jolted you both out of bed. Jeno had no time to ask any questions as you had exited the room already, without a word. He follows your silent, hastened steps down the hall to the surveillance room.

"What is it?" Jeno asks, eyes bouncing around the screens as you search for what tripped the alarm.

Then, you see four escalades ascending the dirt road. Oh fuck.

[8:39 PM]

The words exchanged between the three men you're watching from afar fall on deaf ears even though you can hear them from this distance. Jeno glances over his father's shoulder at you before reverting his attention back to whatever words coming out of Draven's mouth.

"You two fucked, didn't you?" Tyra asks in a whisper.

"What makes you think that?" you snap your head toward her.

"You almost let your disappointment show when we pulled up," she answers, "Plus, I can smell him all over you."

"I'm not disappointed," you scoff, "I'm just thinking."

"About?"

"Not many other people knew about the meeting Draven set up with the Lees. Four of them are dead. The rest are all standing right here."

Tyra's eyes scan the vampires and lycans standing in the underbrush. "Are you saying it's someone here who's working with the humans?"

"It's only a theory. But how else could the humans have known when and where Jeno and I were meeting?"

"Have you shared this theory with your lycan lover?"

"No," you glare at her, "And he's not my lover."

"You don't think he's..."

You shake your head, "No, I don-"

"Think I'm what?" Jeno asks.

You know he was listening to the conversation, "Old enough to be in grown folks business," you tease.

"Haha," he deadpans.

You shoot Tyra a look, and she pretends to find something else to occupy herself with, leaving you and Jeno alone.

"I guess this is it," he sighs.

"No need to shed tears. You'll see me again," you say.

"If that's the case," Jeno slips a piece of paper into your hand, "Call when you start missing me," he smiles.

"As if," you laugh.

You watch Jeno retreat back to his father's car. He looks back at you one last time, shooting you a wink before ducking his head to climb into the vehicle.

"You seem to be extremely fond of the lycan," Draven says.

"He's not bad company," you reply.

"And an even better fu-" A cough interrupts Tyra as you elbow her in the ribs.

"Shall we go home?"

tagged <33: @peachesmilk @doyotint @jaehyunpeachyy @hyuckiegirlfriend @mrsjohnnysuh @binniesbabe @imwutim @marsoverthestars @everything-fine-n-peachy @yukisroom97 @stqrgr7

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long i really thought it would be ready early october but life and shit yk. ty for reading. feedback is appreciated!!

[spiritsdiary]

— FIRST DATE with TYLER OWENS

wc: 788 | content: description of intense weather (??)

you had made the mistake of issuing a challenge to tyler owens: “impress me.”

and tyler owens would be damned if he backed down from a challenge.

so he got you flowers and brought you along to thursday rodeos with his crew, and he must have talked to your mama too, because how else he could’ve figured out where to get your favorite pie was beyond you.

“nothing ever throws you off, does it?” you asked him the fifth time he showed up at your door, armed with a box of pie and that damn smile.

he had simply shrugged before reciting his stupid mantra at you. “if you feel it, chase it.”

he laughed when you shut the door in his face. you’d be lying if you said weren’t laughing yourself when you opened the box, grabbed a fork, and dug in, the dessert tasting a little sweeter than usual.

while it was nice, you’d grow bored of this routine eventually, and tyler seemed to know that, too. but he had an idea, and while it was stupid as all hell, he was willing to take his chances.

you barely pulled the door open when he spoke.

“i wanna take you out tonight.” well. that was new.

“it’s not thursday,” was all you could think to say in response.

“i know a spot,” he’d said, completely unfazed, with a cheeky wink and a tip of his hat, and really, you should’ve known what he meant.

because why wouldn’t you now find yourself in the passenger seat of tyler’s truck as he veers off the road directly towards a tornado?

“tyler owens, are you crazy?!” you exclaim, the only response being a bout of wild laughter as he throttles it even faster. “you better not be filming this!”

“you kiddin’?” he gestures to the cameras mounted above the windshield. “don’t worry, this’ll be just for us. we can look back on this in ten years and laugh.”

“if we live,” you mumble to yourself, glad of the wind, rain, and tyler’s blaring radio.

he looks at you for a moment, though, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “you ready?”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. “hell yeah, tornado wrangler.”

“‘s what i like to hear, baby,” he says, rolling to a stop in the middle of the field. “and now… we wait.”

“next time, just say you wanna drive me into a tornado.”

“next time?” he raises his eyebrows at you as he flips a few switches and anchors the truck.

“you’re insane,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“i’m startin’ to think that you like that about me,” he replies, nodding to the tornado only feet away as he makes sure your harness is secure. “better hold on to somethin’.”

you should be scared, but when you grab on to tyler’s hand, fueled by adrenaline and exhilaration, you just feel a sudden calm. like you belong here, with him, in his truck, getting hit head on by a tornado.

and maybe that’s why you let him kiss you.

the tornado swirls around the truck, the wind screaming so loudly you can barely hear his music, and you lean into him even though the harness digs into your shoulders. his kiss is gentle, respectful, and you can feel him smiling as you kiss him back, only pulling away to touch your forehead to his.

the winds of the tornado rock the truck, debris pelting the outside, but you’re too wrapped up in tyler to even care. you breathe him in until the sound of the storm begins to dissipate and the beating of your heart fades in your ears.

“you can open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching as you lean back into your seat.

his voice spurs you into action, laughing as you undo your harness and jump out of the truck. he’s quick to follow you, smiling proudly as you let out a loud whoop.

“told you i knew a spot.”

“tyler owens…” you say his name again, slowly turning to look at him where he leans against his truck, arms folded across his chest.

“yeah?”

you could blame his tight jeans, or his backwards cap, or that damn smile of his for what you do next, but in the end you do it solely because you want to.

because you want him.

you run up to him, your hand bumping against the brim of his cap as you throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him, pressing him back against the hood.

and when his hands take hold of your hips, his mouth insistent against yours, you know that however you challenge him, he’ll always be crazy enough to impress you.

good evening twisters/tyler owens nation, i am officially throwing my hat in the ring 🥰

m.list

© qimirdiary 2024. do not repost without permission.

[wyvernest]

cregan stark x f!targaryen!reader

previous(first) part - next part | all chapters list

>Queen Rhaenyra has sent you away from the brewing war to safety since your brother, Jacaerys, has secured the Pact of Ice and Fire. You have to honor it by marrying Lord Cregan Stark.

cw: slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, angst, follows book events with slight deviations, im planning to let jacaerys live! every chapter is around 2k wc

chapter cw: tension, fluff, a little angst, they are starting to fall for eachother

“The ceremony will be held tomorrow.” Cregan’s deep and steely voice rings with an imposing echo onto the stone walls of the great hall of Winterfell. “My lady is worn from the journey.”

Although the order seemingly held some benevolence to your sore legs and southern blood barely adjusting to the newfound cold, his voice feels so detached that you find yourself wondering whether he truly did care for your spirits, or if he only wished it as a polite formality.

“I will take my leave before sundown, sister.” Jacaerys places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I must be back at Dragonstone before the new moon.”

“Ill news?” you ask, already troubled and feeling incapacitated from protecting and helping your family.

“Ser Criston Cole marches on Duskendale lands. I must be present at the council to take action.”

“What about me?” You worry, and only after speaking do you realize how stupid the question was.

Jacaerys takes a moment to reply, evidently not wanting to make you feel more secluded than you were.

“I will not make any decision that you wouldn't have in my stead.” He decides, “I will send you ravens to inform you, and represent you.” a pause, “unofficially.”

There is nothing more to be said. Any words he could sweeten end with the same inevitable finale. No raven could fly fast enough to deliver your ideas soon enough for the Greens not to gain an advantage over the reluctance of your team.

You are a pawn. Your dragon is a pawn. And you will only read about the war as if it were history before you could contribute.

“I understand.” You manage to let out without showing how disturbed you are and possibly making the northern lords think that you were terrified to marry their leader.

With a hug too frail to even begin to express how much you will miss him, your brother mounts his dragon after the welcoming festivities in the great hall and takes off with a blow of wings that normally would have had you taking a few steps back from Vermax.

But now it didn't matter anymore. You watch as your only friend dissolves into the skies thick with white clouds, becoming nothing but a raven in the distance.

Suvion cries out, a sharp, strained screech that only pain as great as yours could have caused, and the clouds answer, though you cannot see him anymore.

You are taken aback at the feeling of heavy pelts placed upon your shoulders, and only then you realize how cold you are. Your frigid fingers reach around your own neck to grasp at it and keep it from falling.

“The cold is treacherous. One moment you may think you're warm, and the following, your heart stops.” Cregan comes to stand next to you, looking away to where Vermax had disappeared.

“Thank you, my lord.” You speak coyly, quietly, so he wouldn't catch the crack in your voice and think you weak and soft. Perhaps in a different situation, you would have blushed at his kindness, but the ice wall you felt between you and him was now more palpable than ever. Alone, with a stranger.

“You should come inside.” He insists, but it is not advice, it's a courteous command.

Without a word, you turn and listen. You are escorted to your chamber in the castle, and as you pass through the halls, you look around like a lowborn in a dragonpit. At least that's what it must look like, but in your heart it was storming; how different the place was from what you have known your whole life, the people, the sounds in the yard, the very air of the keep.

He stops in front of your door, beckoning you inside.

“Send for me should you need anything your handmaiden cannot provide.”

His voice is softer, as if trying to indulge you and your loss. As if he understands.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Cregan.”

You do not know for certain if there truly is a gleam of affection in his eyes as he says it, but you do know that you held yourself back from leaning forward in his arms.

Oh, how you wanted to just let it out, and how you wanted him to hold you through it. To offer some comfort that, at least, he cared for you. That he wasn't a cold hearted man with nothing warmer than diplomatic skills. Whom you would have to learn how to love the hard way. Only you know how your heart briefly yearned for him to offer you strength.

But alas, it was not proper. Too soon.

“Cregan.” You accept, and he barely hears it. Your heart sinks when he nods politely and slowly shuts the door, and it sinks further at the sound of his boots on the cold stone outside your chamber, walking away.

A terribly tragic thought slips into your tired mind; that he is betrothed to you, yet his heart belongs to another. Northerners love northerners, and the Stark men have mostly married into vassal houses of the north in the past.

No matter how loyal he is to be from now, his thoughts will always be about her, the people will always know about her.

Suvion's head appears at your window, blocking out the moonlight.

“Oh, you,” You whine, opening the windows and laying your upper body on his snout.

You hear someone gasp and scream in the courtyard, no doubt because of the dragon clawing at the walls of the castle.

“We should find some place good for you. Somewhere safe and warm.” He growls sorrowfully, as if aware.

But it doesn't last long. As quickly as he came at the window, Suvion rips away from your touch and carefully leaps out of the castle yard and up into the night sky. His otherwise white scales now partly reflect the dark of night in their shine, making it impossible for you to even tell how high up he was.

Alone again. You knew he wouldn't go far, that he only needed to hunt and come back, but you wished for leverage that was now gone.

Restless and troubled, you decide to take a stroll around the keep that is to be yours in less than a day.

You follow your curiosity back to the great hall, from where you hear whispered voices and see glimmers of lit torches.

“...of the beast. Food is scarce.”

“It will set eyes upon us.”

“Lord Glover, this is necessary. I do not wish-”

The lords at the table turn abruptly at the sight of the shadow you cast into the obscured hall.

“My lady. Is everything alright?” You hear Cregan's voice, his face away from light.

You feel embarrassed and stupid, interrupting a clearly important talk of resources that did not yet concern you and making the impression of a spoiled, uneducated woman.

“No- I didn't mean to intrude.”

“You could never be intruding on talks of our domain.” He attempts to soothe your nerves, although the implication of responsibilities is indomitable in his tone.

You approach them, carefully eyeing the other lords, feeling quite literally akin to a lizard slithering into a den of wolves. You cannot read anything on their stern faces, and it doesn't fail to make you uneasy and put your guard up.

“The dragon, my lady,” one of them starts, a man well past his youth, “he is a welcomed weapon in the North, although -”

“Although it is true that war has brought us both here, my lord, a dragon is not a weapon.” You warn with a poised expression, as respectfully as you could, yet fire dripped from your words.

The other men frowned in surprise and disapproval, but said nothing. You glance at Cregan, by your side, hoping to be faced with kindness, but instead your heart skips a beat at the sight of a cutthroat look he was throwing at the men, protective of your contribution.

“-apologies. The dragon is a welcomed ally. But livestock is barely enough to get us through what's to come. What are we to offer? Sheep?”

“We have endured harsher winters with lesser than we have today.” Your betrothed reassures, despite the evident growing concern.

“Suvion is big enough to hunt for himself, I dare say. The cold doesn't seem to burden him. There is absolutely no need to thin out the herd for him, my lords.”

You struggle to conceal a sharp gasp when his hand runs up your lower back. A way to show approval of your input, no doubt, yet you find that every crumble of affection he grants you is more than enough to spark fire in your body. Is that what you have come to?

You were worried enough that the rough stoicism of the north man wouldn't provide half the love you dreamed of, yet now you falter on that thought. If such a touch is already setting you alight, what would more do?

“A good omen. Prince Velaryon’s first visit wasn't as uneventful.”

“It is settled then. We will discuss other matters after the wedding.” He commanded, and your stomach flipped at the mention of your union.

With the lords out of the room, Cregan turns to you.

“I thought you would be resting. It's near the hour of the ghosts.” He speaks gently with a warm vibration in his voice, as if you have been wedded for years and he knows all about your practices and nature.

“I couldn't. The more I lay there waiting, the more it felt like I would never find sleep again.”

A faint smile lights up your tense visage, an instinctual way of wanting to see him soften as well.

He looks intently, clearly understanding of your friendliness, but it does nothing to soothe his brow further.

“Come. I wish to speak with you, since neither of us cannot find slumber.”

Neither of us? What is that supposed to mean?

You once again hook your arm around his, his body heat immediately warming you up and putting you at ease. He leads you into his chambers, a strong fire already lit in the hearth.

“Is this proper?”

“Whoever shall dare speak ill of my wife will never speak again.”

A shiver runs up your spine. Whether it's a pleasant or a distressed one, you cannot tell anymore.

“I know how you must feel, although it may not seem like it.” He begins, beckoning you to sit on the edge of the bed. “It's the duty that comes with the name.”

“Yes.” You agree, wanting to hear more of what he wishes to tell you. “Although my biggest concern lies with my position. I feel…” You cease before you could say something like “trapped” or “exiled”. He has been nothing but good to you since you arrived and you do not want to seem ungrateful or hostile. You do like him.

But before you could find the right words, he kneels in front of you on the floor and takes your hands in his. Your heart stops. Your brain shuts down. Gods.

“-powerless.” He untangles your mind and finishes your thought. “But you aren't. We will offer help, I do not intend to trample the oath I swore to your brother. The oath I am to swear to you.” He adds, his tone is soft and tender yet his words so meaningful and heavy, you hear them as though their echo reverberated in the entire room around you.

His thumb delicately rubs over your knuckles, his expression as stoic as ever, only his actions speak differently. He leans forward and places a kiss on the back of your hand, assuring and loving.

You draw in a sharp breath, as if you haven't felt affection before in your life.

“Cregan.” is all you manage.

“It is true that this union was made with interest. But you are not unwanted, my lady. I believe we will find more than allies in each other.”

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡In the Blood｡⋆.

Alfie Solomons x plus size reader

The youngest Shelby sister was supposed to be the good one, the innocent one, but apparently she’s got some secrets of her own

Warnings: shelby!reader (unspecified as to whether she was adopted or not), nudity, protective Tommy, getting caught in the act (sex, sex is the act), mentions of unplanned pregnancies and castration WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Ada knew something was wrong with her little sister- she was skittish, hiding her eyes beneath caps and behind her hair, and most telling of all, she stopped coming to family meetings. The final straw came when the elder Shelby sister sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a cold cup of tea as Karl slept in a small bassinet by her chair. He had been a pain all night so Ada had resorted to staying up, gently rocking him with her foot.

Dawn was just starting to break when the front door opened. Ada was perfectly positioned at the kitchen table to see her little sister, who had just turned 21, walk into the house dressed in a coat that was far too big to be hers with her shoes in her hands. The grin on her face was wide and dazed- Ada knew that look well. She smiled and went back to her tea.

When Y/N finally did stumble down the stairs, 10 minutes past noon, Ada and Pol lay in wait. “Good morning princess.” She groaned in reply as she took the offered painkillers from her aunt. “Have a good night?” Ada teased.

“Was fine, just had some drinks with the girls.” Pol raised a dark eyebrow at her niece. 

“Oh really. And I suppose it was one of your ‘girls’ that gave you that bruise on your neck.” Y/N’s eyes widened comically and her hand flew to her throat in an attempt to hide where her skin was discoloured. But after a moment, she sagged into one of the kitchen chairs, knowing that she was caught.

“You won’t tell Tommy will you?”

Pol patted her hand lovingly. “Tommy won’t know until you’re ready to tell him but he will find out eventually. I think you’re old enough to have a couple secrets of your own.”

“It won’t be a secret for long if you get pregnant.” Ada murmured under her breath. Y/N’s head whipped around. Her eyes had that same dangerous gleam that Tommy’s got when he was planning something big.

“I actually know how to pull out Ada.” Pol choked on her tea, giving a very undignified snort that made her youngest niece beam. 

Ada rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Accidents happen.” Y/N’s smile grew wider, her eyes scrunching with its size.

“Speaking of, where is your little accident?” Her chair clattered to the floor as Ada shot up and dashed to her little sister. Anticipating this, Y/N darted away at the last second. She bounced on her toes like she was contemplating some big decision and, flipped off her sister. 

——————

One of the few freedoms that Y/N was given in her adulthood was her own apartment, though until recently, she had not spent much time there, favouring the family home on Watery Lane. But whenever she was at her own place, there was the tiny little condition that her siblings and her aunt each had their own key, for emergencies as John and Arthur claimed. Yet they respected their sister enough not to make use of these keys, until today that is.

Tommy shuffled up to the front door, hat low on his head as the freezing rain pelted him. It had been a stupid idea, a walk to calm the storm in his mind as black clouds descended over Birmingham. So he found himself here, at the door of his youngest and arguably favourite sister. 

He jammed his finger into the doorbell, distantly hearing it ring from the partially open window above him. Yet, there was no movement inside. Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder, it was at least another hour to walk back to the Garrison, there was no way he was going home to face Pol without at least one drink. The cold metal of his keys stung his palm as he fished them from his pocket; Y/N wouldn’t mind the intrusion, in fact she’d probably feed him before sending him on his way.

His cheeks burned with the change in temperature as he stepped into the hallway. A heavy thump and then a loud groan of pain came from somewhere above his head. “Y/N?” He called out, but received no reply. 

Tommy didn’t even bother to hang up his coat, taking the stairs two at a time he reached the landing in no time and with no hesitation, he threw open the front door, hand on the butt of his gun, fully prepared to deal with whatever situation his little sister had been thrust into.

But maybe not this.

His sweet baby sister was kneeling on the floor, stark naked, her back facing him (thankfully) with an equally naked man laying between her legs, hands on her hips and an obviously broken couch behind them.

“Tommy!” She yelped, her arms darting up to cover her chest as he instinctively spun around and faced the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s raining. Who’s the man?” A deep chuckle soaked into the wallpaper, its familiarity almost mocking the gangster as his mood turned even more sour than it had been only minutes before. A soft slap followed, then the man’s heavy footsteps vanished into the bedroom.

“No one Tommy, just a boyfriend. You can turn around.” A greatly oversized men’s shirt concealed her body, the horrified expression on her face almost tugged at his heart strings, almost.

Tommy glared at her. “A boyfriend?” His words came out as more of a growl, his anger mounting. It was one thing for Y/N to have picked up a boy from the Garrison or at the market, as much as he hated the thought of anyone even looking at her, but to have hidden a boyfriend from the family? From him? 

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her older brother. “Yes. A boyfriend. You know, like most girls my age have.” 

“Not without my permission.” Her gaze hardened.

“I’m a grown woman Thomas.”

“Not when you keep secrets from me.” 

“Now that’s rich coming from you.” She scoffed. Tommy’s eye twitched. “I think more than half of the things you have said to me my entire life have been you lying to keep some secret or another. Why am I not allowed to have some of my own?” Her arms crossed over her chest, unwavering in her determination.

Tommy reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it. “That was business.”

Y/N opened her mouth to undoubtedly hit back at him with something clever that he would blame Polly for but before even a single sound had passed her lips, another voice rumbled through the small apartment, making his blood freeze. 

“Well it’s a damn good thing this was a business meetin, wasn’t it darling?” And suddenly, in his little sister’s living room, wearing only trousers and with a cigarette hanging from his lips, was Alfie Solomons. 

Tommy’s head whipped over to Y/N who now had her head in her hands. “Him?” Was all he could manage around the bubbling anger building in his throat. Alfie laughed and as if to add insult to the injury, wrapped a large arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. She refused to look at her brother, fixing her eyes firmly to the floor like she used to do when caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Alfie was practically beaming, gloating. “She’s done a very good job at keeping me secret from you. Even got me to hide in a fucking supply cubbord once.” A vein in Tommy’s head throbbed as he laid a palm over the butt of his gun.. “But ey, you must be proud, passing on those strong genes. She’ll be runnin circles around you in no time.”

“Alfie, I will fucking kill you.” She pleaded.

“It’s in the blood ain’t it? Can’t even imagine how sneaky our kids are gonna be considering our tendency to tell a little fib.”

“I’ll castrate you before that ever happens.” Tommy growled and finally pulled his gun clear of the holster but Alfie didn’t even flinch. In fact the man’s eyes sparkled with vindication.

“See, all in the blood.”

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[eclipseslayer]

HOW TO KILL A VAMPIRE

MASTERLIST | I. YOU | NEXT PART

WC: 1k

It's a dark and stormy night—thunder rolls and lightning strikes throughout the sky as rain pelts against you, leaving your black cloak clinging against your body.

You've been sitting outside in the cold, harsh rain, underneath the canopy of the forest, for what feels like hours now, simply watching—watching the ominous castle that stands tall, probably hundreds of thousands of feet tall, with twisting spires and pointed edges that come out in claw-like shapes—for the vampire that lurks within the sinister structure.

You're not sure exactly who you're looking for, but all you know is that the son of Dracula lives there, as you've heard from the people who live in neighboring cities in Wallachia.

The son of Dracula.

That title alone was enough to make you intrigued, in fact, somewhat fascinated that the son of Dracula was even alive, considering that Dracula went on a mad hunt to kill the entirety of humanity because of his wife's unjust death.

Now, though, you're on a hunt yourself, to slay the son of the vampire that slaughtered the sons and daughters of Wallachia.

The hunt, so far, has been long. You've tracked him down in this castle to this very spot. You've heard he doesn't leave his castle often but—

There.

You see ahead, leaving the castle in a big, black, billowing cloak, is a tall man with blonde hair that reaches just past his shoulders. You notice he walks quickly with his pace, probably to get out of the rain, as he makes way towards his horse.

You narrow your eyes and you take a deep breath as you watch your target.

Slowly, you reach back into your quiver, and you gently pull out a silver-tipped arrow with one hand while your other hand reaches for your bow. You grab the bow, your hand, touching wood as you grip it, and you pull it towards you, slowly. You then bring the bow up, and with your other hand, you line the arrow up, pulling it taught against the string, and you pull it back, hearing the familiar stretch of the bow, you line it up with the vampire.

Your arrow follows the vampire as he still walks towards his horse, but then, suddenly, he stills.

You swallow thickly, wondering why the vampire had stopped moving.

Had he heard me? You wonder, but you shake your head. No, impossible. The rain is far too loud for him to hear me.

You pull the arrow tighter.

You feel your palms begin to sweat as your eyes narrow even further.

Then, with a quick flick of your hand, you let the arrow go.

The arrow soars through the air, moving through the rain with ease. You watch closely, until finally it...

...Misses?!

The vampire vanishes from sight, and you quickly rise to your feet, slinging your bow across your back. You scan the area with a panicked intensity, whipping your head around in all directions, yet the vampire remains nowhere to be found.

Shit, shit, shit!

Quickly, after gathering your things, you begin to run out of the forest, and into the clearing, racing towards the castle, hoping to draw the vampire out.

You draw your silver sword, and you grip it firmly in both hands, praying to whatever god is out there that the sword won't slip from your hands.

"I know you're out there! Come fight me!" You shout into the distance, but the sound of the storm drowns out your call.

Suddenly, in response to your cry, a long, silver sword hurtles through the air, sailing towards you. In an instant, you brace yourself, parrying the sword with your own.

The sword fights back, attacking once again, swinging at you with brilliant power, and each time you block in a frenzy, feeling almost clumsy with each swing, as your swordsmanship skills aren't really up to par, but with a bit of luck, somehow you're able to manage to block every oncoming swing.

Your eyes follow the silver sword, and with furrowed brows, you pay attention to how the sword moves, bringing your arm inwards as your continue to parry the swords movements, listening to the clanging metal.

The sword fight intensifies, the clash of steel echoes. While your focus remains solely on your opponent, what you don't notice is the slow, ominous figure silently approaching from the woods. The figure's black cloak billows in the wind, fluttering as the unseen presence takes measured, deliberate strides towards you, until finally it reaches you, just beyond the silver sword.

"You're clumsy," the cloaked man finally speaks, lowly, while you try to do your best while fighting off the sword in front of you.

"Yeah? No shit," you retort as you continue to parry the sword in front of you.

"Your foot movements don't—"

As if speaking it into existence, you find yourself tripping over your own feet and crashing to the ground beneath. You land hard, the wet, mucky grass providing little cushion from the impact, your body making a loud thud on the ground, which quickly erects the sword, with the blade at your throat.

With heavy, panting breaths, you swallow thickly as your eyes dart to the tip of the sword, to the man before you who stares at you with golden eyes.

"My bow skills are better."

"Oh? Is that why you missed me, earlier?"

You huff and you look away, ashamed that you missed him in the first place.

"You know, I should kill you where you sit," the vampire says, sternly, which makes you look back up at him.

You see him frowning with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows.

"Why have you come here to kill me?"

You scoff, continuing to look up at the vampire. You make a face of disgust.

"Because, you're a vampire, son of Dracula. I've come to avenge the people of Wallachia; the whole of humanity. I'm here to finish off the Tepes bloodline, once and for all."

[steddieas-shegoes]

see where the night goes

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'only one bed' rated m wc: 867 cw: some borderline somnophilia-esque behavior? tags: forced proximity, unintentional cuddling, idiots to lovers, love confessions, implied sexual content

🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

The full sized bed was covered in the ugliest plaid sheets Steve had ever seen, which was saying something since his own bed had been covered in ugly plaid sheets.

It looked like it would fall apart if Steve sat on it, let alone lay down on it.

"Bad news first or good news first?" Eddie asked as he walked into the room.

"There's more bad news? The broken down van and the storm knocking out the power everywhere but this inn isn't bad enough?" Steve responded, putting his hands on his hips as he watched Eddie sit on the bed.

Huh. Looked like it would manage to hold at least some weight, then.

"There's no other bed."

Steve shook his head.

"That's a joke."

"Nope," Eddie popped his lips together. "I did check the bathroom though and there's a decent shower with actual hot water, so. A win's a win?"

Steve groaned.

"Dude, this bed is not big enough for both of us," Steve gestured to the bed Eddie was sitting on. "It doesn't even look big enough for you."

"Sure it is. I slept in a twin until I was nearly 18. This will be like a California King!"

Steve knew he was trying to make light of the situation.

The van breaking down four hours from home on a night when the worst storm Indiana has seen in years decided to come through was only the beginning.

Eddie had lost his wallet somewhere between the van and his walk to a payphone, which meant he had to walk all the way back to the van without having called anyone. He was soaked and cold despite the air around them being relatively warm. By the time he got back to the van, someone had stopped to check on Steve, who had been panicking about Eddie getting lost. When they finally got towed to a repair shop, the mechanic told them he wouldn't be able to look at it until the morning and that from the sounds of it, they'd need to replace a handful of parts that were more money than either of them had with them.

A weekend trip to visit Robin at college had turned into an expensive nightmare.

And now, they would be sharing a very tiny bed.

Eddie and Steve had been closer lately, especially since Robin's classwork had made it impossible for her to visit much. But sharing a full sized bed?

"Well, guess I'll go shower. Maybe it'll help me feel less like everything is falling apart," Steve sighed.

"Okay, Eeyore."

Steve rolled his eyes, but ignored him.

They got ready for bed like they were dreading it, and maybe they were.

They both got into the bed, laying on their sides facing away from each other, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from the other.

The rain pelted the roof, and lightning flashed in the distance, but it seemed like the storm was almost past.

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry about tonight."

"Nothing you could do, Eds."

He felt Eddie shift, but they still weren't touching.

"I guess. Still sorry though."

"Yeah, me too."

Sleep fell over them, the exhaustion of the day hitting them hard as soon as their bodies were horizontal.

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

Steve was sweating, which wasn't completely unusual, but definitely rare when he hadn't woken up screaming from a nightmare.

He had something, no, someone, in his arms.

Eddie.

He was curled around Eddie entirely, his arms around him, his hard dick pressing into his ass.

Eddie was still asleep, breathing softly, chest rising and falling slowly.

Steve needed to wake him up, or at least get up so he could put some space between them until his dick calmed down.

But just as he went to pull his arm away, Eddie turned around in his arms and smiled in his sleep.

And then his eyes fluttered open.

His smile faded.

"Sorry, let me-" As Eddie started to pull away, Steve tightened his arms.

"A minute."

Steve sometimes said he needed a minute like this when the kids were all yelling about things he didn't quite understand or when Robin had been rambling on for too long.

Sometimes, when he and Eddie were just hanging out, he would say it like he just had too much going on in his brain.

Like now.

Steve was looking at Eddie, really looking.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I might love you."

Eddie blinked back at him, mouth agape.

"You think you might?" His voice was quiet, hesitant.

"Yeah."

"And this is...because of us sleeping in bed together or...?"

"No. It's because when we have a shitty day that could turn into another shitty day tomorrow, I'm still just happy to be with you for it. I didn't...I guess it didn't really hit until now," Steve admitted.

Eddie gulped.

"And you think that's...love?"

"I think that's part of it. I also think I'd like to kiss you."

Eddie let out a small breath, shaky as Steve pulled him flush against his front.

"You would?"

"If that's okay."

"Is that all?" Eddie smirked, obviously implying that he could feel Steve's dick against his thigh.

"We'll see where else the night goes."

[stairain]

In the Pouring Rain.

You're driving home and there’s a storm incoming, but pulling over and never pulling out seems more than satisfactory. 

Warnings: Soft Dom Spencer, car sex, praise, nicknames, riding, pain during sex, creampie, reader feels guilty for literally everything, he is so very gentle with you. 

WC: 4.1K

You were sitting in the driver's seat of Spencer’s car, looking out the window as the car radio softly played. It was raining out. As he drove, you tore your gaze away from the window and looked over to him. You could barely make out his features, it was dark out, and the only light in the car was that of the passing street lights.

He glances quickly at you, then back at the road. He took a sip of his coffee as he continued to drive. 

"You doing okay? You’re quiet tonight."

You’re snapped out of your trance and nod slowly. “Yeah.. Spence. Just stressed from work, is all..” You turn away from him once more and look at the rain droplets pelting against the windshield.

He sighs and looks over at you again, still driving carefully. He’s heard that before. But he knows not to push the issue, and just lets you think. 

"Is there anything I can do?"

“I think I just need to.. calm down, a bit..” You mutter, still not looking at him but instead playing with your fingers anxiously.

He nods and his face softens as he looks over at you. He has a look of concern on his face. "Do you need to stop and just get out and stretch or something? Maybe just pull over and take a few deep breaths before we drive the rest of the way home, or do you feel like you want to get home quickly and just sit and try to relax there?"

“Yeah.. Yeah, do you think you could pull over for a bit?” The rain is coming down harder now, and you’ve always been wary about driving in this weather. You didn’t need the stress of safety adding onto your already anxious mood.

Spencer nods and slows down. "Of course I can, no problem. The weather is getting crazy out here lately." He pulls over and parks the car, taking the car out of drive. He turns to you and seems concerned. Then he smiles. "Do you think a hug and a few deep breaths would help?" he asks. He waits for you to make the final call.

The loud patter of the rain outside calms you down a bit, along with the soft and gentle tone of his voice. You unbuckle your belt and turn to him. It’s a few moments that pass by before you take a deep breath and climb over the center console, sitting in his lap.

He carefully wraps his arms around you, and hugs you tightly. You feel his soft and warm embrace. The smell of his cologne surrounds you. You feel safe and protected in his arms. It's very calming and comforting, and you feel all the tension melt away. You take a few deep, calming breaths, which helps to further soothe you.

"How's that? A little better?" He asks, before kissing your head and just hugging you.

You’re sitting sideways in his lap, and pressing tight against his warm chest. The once pounding beat of your heart gradually slows down as he holds you, and after a few moments you nod. “Yes.. Thank you, Spence.” 

You feel him nodding and stroking your hair softly, seeming perfectly content in the moment with just holding you. He smiles softly and kisses your cheek. A few minutes of comfort go by before he speaks again. "Shall we continue on?"

You look out the window and it looks like the rain has done everything but stopped. It’s storming at this point, and you feel your heart beating faster at just the thought of driving back in these conditions. “I think it’s best if we stay here for a while..”

Your boyfriend nods, seeming to understand your concerns about the storm. He is pretty cautious himself when it comes to driving in bad weather. He gently rubs your shoulder, and seems content just holding you - he's a physical touch loving person in that way. He loves to be close to you like this. 

"Okay. Do you want to keep talking? Or just sit and cuddle like this for a while? We can do whatever you like.” he says with a kind and soft smile, his voice showing his affection. 

You look up at him with a smile on your face. It didn’t look like the storm would be letting up anytime soon, so you’d be stuck here for a while. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t mind what we do.”

He blushes a little at your sweet words, and strokes your hair. His eyes are warm and soft. He seems happy just to be with you, and having you in his arms, no matter where you are. You feel safe and secure in him. A few minutes more go by, and he finally speaks. "Can I ask you a question?" 

“Of course, Spence.” You look up at him.

He seems a bit hesitant and almost a bit nervous to ask, as this is not an easy question for him to ask, but he pushes through it and decides to just ask honestly and be vulnerable, because you are important to him. "What do you see in me?" he asks quietly. 

You give him a look of confusion before sitting up and leaning against the door of the car. You scrunch your eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

Spencer sighs and looks away, seeming embarrassed. He doesn't like asking for reassurance like this, since he doesn't want you to feel obligated or pressured. He also doesn't want you to think he has low self esteem. But he pushes past it and looks at you again, with a serious look in his eyes.

"What makes me different from the other men you know, and why do you choose to be with me?" 

“W-Where’s this coming from, Spence? Did something happen or..?” Your boyfriend was never like this, in fact, you were usually the one who asked him these types of questions, so you were puzzled as to why things have suddenly flipped.

He sighs softly and rubs his eyes. "I just... I get insecure sometimes. You are amazing, and I just don't fully understand why you are with me or what you see in me. I don't have the best self esteem sometimes. I know I have my good qualities, but.. I still get those intrusive thoughts sometimes. It's been on my mind lately and I just needed to ask... that's all."

You feel yourself melt at his words and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. One of your hands moves to hold his cheek as you begin to talk.

“No one makes me feel safe like you do.. You know, most people if I asked them to pull over because of the rain or.. or because I had a hard day, they’d just brush it off or tell me to wait until we were home..” Your voice was quiet, and the rain outside was almost drowning you out. 

“You’re caring.. You’re so caring, Spencer. On nights where I can’t sleep and wake you up, you never get mad at me, you’re always just.. there. You hold me until I fall asleep, even if it takes hours, you’re always there for me.”

He looks over at you, and the warm and thoughtful expression on his face is enough to make your heart flutter. His eyes seem to hold so much sincerity and affection towards you, and you feel loved and cherished. He can see the sincerity on your face too, and can see a little tear forming in your eye. He is so happy to hold such a lovely woman in his arms, and he just can't believe how lucky he is. He pulls you in a passionate kiss, which he hopes will convey how much he loves you in a better way than he can with words.

You’re caught off guard as he suddenly grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you into a passion filled kiss. Your eyes widen momentarily before they shut and you melt into his hold.

Spencer holds you tightly, and the intensity of the kiss makes your heart race faster. For a moment, it's like the world has slowed down and everything else has vanished - only you two remain, and you're completely immersed in the moment. There is a passion and intensity to the kiss, as you can tell he wants to make sure he shows you how much you mean to him - but there is still love and affection too, and not just lust. Everything about it is just so perfect, and you feel swept up in his arms. The intensity of it is undeniable.

His hands start to move their way through your hair, gently grabbing it as he deepens the kiss. You softly moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hands in your hand and his lips on yours.

He kisses you with all the passion in him. You can feel the love he feels for you radiating off him, and he kisses you with such force and intensity, you can almost sense his adoration and desperation for you. Every part of him just wants you. His breathing starts to become deep and heavy as the kiss progresses, and the sounds of the rain around you seem to dim a bit, as the world narrows down to just being you two, and the intensity of the moment. There is a softness but also a forcefulness in his touch, it's a combination that's intoxicatingly perfect.

You reach out and hold his shoulders in your trembling hands, and the pure love and passion he’s putting into the kiss is becoming quickly overwhelming. You pull back and catch your breath.

“S-Spence..”

His face is red and he is slightly out of breath after such an intense kiss. He tries to catch his breath, while looking at you with his eyes still showing so much affection for you. If you were ever unsure before about how much he loves you - there is no doubting it now. He smiles at you, his eyes sparkling with love and affection. The way he looks at you makes it clear that he is willing to do anything for you, and he would never let anything bad happen to you. He strokes your hair with a soft and gentle hand.

"Are you okay?"

You can’t help but swoon at his concern, he truly loved you more than anything. You nod and swallow. “Please.. Kiss me again..”

His expression softens even further at your words, and he nods happily, leaning over and kissing you again, with just as much intensity as before. You feel the warmth of him through your lips, and are completely swept up in the moment. The feelings of love and attraction are so overwhelming as you kiss, it feels like you're floating. He pulls away just slightly from the kiss, and looks at you, with a slight smile on his face. "Happy?"

When he pulls away, you shake your head. “I think I need more, Spence.” Your tone is teasing and filled with lust and love.

He smiles a bit more, and nods - completely on board with that idea. He is still slightly out of breath from before, but your request has just turned him on even more. His smile grows into a smirk as he leans in and starts kissing you again - a passionate and hot kiss. His smile is playful and mischievous and there is passion behind his eyes - the mix of it all is just something else. It's like you two are perfectly intertwined.

You whimper into the kiss, and your desperation to be taken care of by him grows with every second that passes. You grab one of his hands that’s in your hair and press his gentle hands up against the curves of your chest, making him grab a handful and squeeze. 

He looks surprised at you taking control and moving your hand there, he looks into your eyes with a slightly playful and surprised look, which turns into a smile. He slowly leans forward and begins kissing down your neck. "Do you want to continue?" he asks.

You throw your head back gently against the window, and moan out your answer. “Y-Yes, please..”

Spencer’s hand reaches down to your skirt and flips up the fabric, exposing your underwear for him. He bites his lip and runs a tentative finger over your covered clit. You jump at the feeling and clench your thighs around his arm. 

“Leave them open, honey.” 

You nod and spread your legs slowly once more, trying to leave them open for him, just like he told you to. 

His middle finger just barely started rubbing over your panty clad cunt, and when he pulls away, you can see your slick coating his finger. He’s got a cocky smirk on his face as he looks at it and practically forces you to look at it. 

“You’re soaked, baby. Look at you..” You whine in embarrassment and throw your head back in shame. He chuckles and slips it into his mouth. 

“Spence.. Stop it, please..” 

His finger leaves his mouth and is against your skin again in an instant. This time, when his hand returns to you panties, he pulls them to the side, exposing your dripping pussy.

“Fine, fine, Sweetheart.” 

He bites his lip at the sight and feels his breath hitch at the way the soft light from the street light makes your slick glisten against your hole. 

You stay quiet, a bashful blush cast on your skin as he admires you. Spencer tries to look out the windows and windshield to see if anyone is around, but the pouring rain is acting like a curtain, the harsh storm hiding you two from the outside world. 

His hands are off of you and instead are fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. Once he gets them down, he pulls you up from the way you’re sitting sideways in his lap and makes you straddle him. 

It’s a bit of a squeeze, and you try to reach down to push his seat back, but he beats you to it. 

“Let me do the work, sweetie.”

The man reaches under the seat and lifts the bar, making his seat quickly roll back into the car. You smile at him and lean forward to rest your wrists on the seat. 

“Thank you, Sir..” 

After you’ve allowed yourself to get comfortable on his lap, he reaches down with a desperate huff and pulls down his own underwear, and his thick cock springs out from the fabric, and he practically moans out in relief at no longer being constricted. 

You can feel the drool pooling in your mouth as your eyes flash down to his dick, then to his face, then back down to his dick. He reaches a hand down and wraps his palm around the base of himself, and uses the other hand to flip up the front of your skirt again. And as expected, you’re dripping arousal on his pants, panties still pushed to the side. 

Spencer guides the tip of his cock and rubs it against your glistening folds, making the both of you shudder and moan at the feeling. The rain was cold, but you were impossibly hot. The warmth and wetness of your pussy was already proving to be too much, and he hasn’t even slipped inside yet. 

“Please.. Let me take care of you, angel..” 

He sounds so sincere, there’s no possible way you could do anything but agree that Yes, he needs to take care of you. You nod, and lift yourself on your thighs slightly, making room for him to slide right into your awaiting hole. 

Taking a deep breath, he holds his cock underneath your trembling body, and slowly lowers you onto him. The feeling has him clenching his fist against the fabric of your skirt, and ripping the skin of his lip. And as you feel his head pry open your walls, it takes you everything not to lean back and set off the horn. 

“My god.. So sweet…” He whispers into the air. You always had a hard time fully taking him into you, but he was always there to help you. And tonight was no different, your face scrunched in pain as he broke you in, sliding into you like a shoe three sizes far too small.

“I-I’m sorry.. Spence.” 

But he’s quick to shush you and make sure there’s none of that. 

“Shh, love.. Stop that.. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m right here, alright? You’re alright… I’ll take care of you, Princess.”  

He wipes the fallen tears on your face and kisses the tracks of them, still slowly sliding your shaking body down onto his all too hard and big cock. 

“You’re so big.. I..” 

You can’t finish your sentence, not now. You cut yourself off with a loud moan when you finally feel the insides of thighs flush against his hips. You did it. 

“I know, baby, I know.. It’s alright..” 

Spencer runs a comforting hand through your hair and god does it take all the power possible for him not to lose control right then and there. With how you’re so tight around him, and how he almost loses his mind at how he can feel how wet you are, and how it’s dripping onto the skin of his hips and thighs. 

You’re entirely too much for him, but he’s the same way for you. 

You cry in his hold as you adjust to the pain, and he runs large hands over your in gentle, comforting touches. Despite being the very thing breaking you, he’s still treating you like the thinnest most fragile statue made of crystal. 

Wanting to be the best for him and with the desperation to make him proud, you push aside the burn you’re feeling, and slowly start to lift your hips off of him, experimenting with the feeling. Although you’ve been blessed and fucked by him before, it never gets easier with just how big he is, and how small you are. 

“Hey.. Hey. Love.. Are you sure you’re ready?” 

His hand reaches out to grab your hip to still you, and you go to wipe the tears on your face. You sniff as you try to figure out what you want. 

“Sp-Spence.. Help me please..” 

You try to find his other hand, and when you do, you place it on your empty hip, letting it accompany the other one already gripping you. With eyes full of need, lust, and helplessness, you look up at him. 

“Stop me when you want to, babygirl..” 

Spencer’s grip tightens on your hips, and begins to lift you off his cock, before slowly pushing you back down. He sighs at the feeling of your drenched hole covering him with arousal and constricting around him, but his gaze never leaves your face, making sure you’re not crying too much. 

Your cries eventually devolve into soft sniffles as you’ve adjusted to the intrusion that was your boyfriend. He’s still gently guiding you up and down his length, and you’ve moved your hands to grab at his shoulders, both your hands on either side of his head as you dug your nails into the fabric of his blazer every time he unintentionally stamped your spot with the tip of his cock. 

“So beautiful, angel.. Can’t believe it.”

He leans up in his seat and wraps his arms around your waist now, holding you close with your chests touching each other. Your mouth is agape in soft whines and moans, and he presses light kisses all over your face, down to your neck, and stops to suck a mark right onto the sweaty skin of your throat. 

“You’re mine, yeah?” 

Spencer mutters in the softest tone imaginable, as he thrusts slowly up into you. Your pussy is sucking him up greedily, taking every blow he humps into you. 

“Y-Yeah.. Yeah.. Yours..” 

Every time he sheaths himself inside of you, the rough fabric of his shirt rubs right against your sensitive clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching a lot faster than expected, but you always finished remarkably fast with him anyways, he just knew exactly how to treat you. 

At your words, he leans back into his seat and his hands find their way back to your hips, and he starts to thrust into you harder. The loud rain pounding onto the glass of the car windows, the wet slapping of your pussy against his pelvis, your breathy moans and his breathless groans. They fill the atmosphere and make you roll your eyes back in pure pleasure. 

His cock feels so good inside of you, and the pain that once filled you was replaced by a dull ache in your womb to be absolutely filled to the brim.. You needed to be filled by his cock and his warm cum.  

Not once this entire night have you done any of the work, you’re supposed to be riding him, bouncing on his cock and moaning like the slut you are for him, but instead, he’s sliding your cunt on his dick like you’re nothing but a doll. 

Spencer wanted to take care of you, and he was getting exactly that. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he knew you did something that he could easily do for you instead. 

His mouth parts in a groan and then a hiss, as his thrusts into you and his grip on your hips all become sloppier. 

“I’m not lasting much longer than this, baby.. That alright with you?”

Your boyfriend reaches a hand down to rub tight circles on your clit, wanting to make you finish before he did, but god did you feel good around him. You always made it so hard for him to hold back. 

You whine out a sweet ‘mhm’ and roll your eyes back at the feeling of him touching your already rubbed raw clit. But, to be fair, his fingers were a much better pleaser than the bottom of his shirt. 

Clenching around him and crying out, you realized you’re cumming. Your orgasm creeps up onto you before you can even tell him, but there’s no possible way you can hide it from him. Not with the way you’ve become impossibly tighter, and he can feel the way you’re creaming around his cock. It’s dripping down to his underwear, soaking the fabric. 

“Fuck.. Sir, I’m sorry..” 

Spencer shakes his head and reaches forward and wraps his strong arms around your shuddering body. You’re shaking not only from the surprise orgasm, but also in fear you’ve disappointed him. 

“You did so well, my angel.. It’s okay, you… fuck, you don’t need to apologize.. Never…” 

His thrusts become more erratic as he speaks, and he’s no longer moving you on his cock. You’re pressed down hard against him as he humps into you and squeezes your body against his. 

“In-Inside.. Is that alright with you, darling..?”

You’re beyond wrecked at this point, but you and your pussy are just about begging to be filled with his release. You nod and lean forward a bit to start desperately kissing at his neck, trying to find any way to make him cum faster, as well as to ground yourself. 

“Oh fuck.. So so good for me.. I love you so much, baby.. Too much..” 

And with a guttural groan, he delivers one last final thrust into you and with how tight he’s holding you against him, you can feel the way his hips are shaking as he empties his release into you. You’re moaning out his name as he pumps his hot cum inside of you, finally giving you what you want. 

High pitched whimpers leave your lips as you feel it leaking out of you, painting the sticky walls of your pussy, and coating the glistening folds that shine in the faint light. 

Spencer leans back into his seat and brings you down with him, holding your head with a firm palm as his chest heaves and his body calms down. 

“You’re always such a good girl for me.. My angel..” He softly praises in your ear as he tries to soothe the both of you and bring you down from your respective highs. He knows it always takes more out of you than him, but the passion he holds for you always takes him by surprise. 

The storm outside still hasn’t calmed down a bit, but you’re more than content to sit here with him until it passes over, even if you could feel his release spilling out of you and no doubt staining his car seats. 

But what a trophy that would be. 

[anilovie]

My Love, My Life

Summary: You and Anakin are on a supply-run and get caught in a storm, forcing you to find shelter amidst growing tensions.

WC: 9.3k

CW: MDNI, pwp, oral (f recieving), mild size kink, shared shower, lots of fluff

AN: I swear this whole thing was revealed to me in a vision.

You and Anakin had been watching the weather closely since being sent out in the dingy little transport ship. The mission was to deliver supplies and medical aid to an incognito Obi-Wan on the planet Leaze— before the storm got bad enough where travel became impossible. 

It was a simple mission, if not complicated by the sudden turn in their seasons, bringing forth a front of strong winds and heavy rains. Anakin could have even come himself, but the two of you played up the extent of Obi-Wan’s sustained injuries so that the Council would feel the need to send a medic – you – along for the ride as well. Any opportunity for you and Anakin to spend time together, you exploited. 

Really, Obi-Wan just sprained a wrist. He was low on food, water ammo, batteries, and his clothes had been all torn up in a nasty skirmish with some bounty hunters. “A joyride,” Anakin referred to this mission as. That is, until you began the descent into Leaze’s misty, swirling skies.

In between tracking his location and watching the weather radar, Anakin’s focus was on bringing you down to the ground safely — with a little more emphasis on safe, since you were here. Thus, his hands gripped the controls with a bit more force than normal, jaw clenched and brows furrowed as he met each gust of wind with a controlled parry. He pulled the shuttle through the misty skies, stabilizing the rocking foundations through the whipping winds that threatened to toss you right out of the air.

You weren’t sure how he could even see. The rain and leaves that had stuck to the window obliterated any view– he likely wasn’t even trying to see. You realized this as he answered Obi-Wan’s incoming call without even sparing a glance out the window, fingers flying over the dashboard, weathering the elements through intellect and feeling alone. 

“Anakin, Y/n, I trust that you’ve made it here safely,” Obi-Wan’s hologram displayed before you and Anakin. He looked alright – his disguise was off, for now, and he seemed to be someplace warm and out of the rain, a complete juxtaposition to the two of you.

As soon as the words warbled through, something slammed into the shuttle, rocking the foundations with an ominous groan as you began to plummet.

Anakin swore and yanked on the yoke, flicking some switches on the dashboard. “Working on it,” he bit through clenched teeth, huffing as the inferior ion engines sputtered and popped to life, breaking your fall. The shull continued to rattle and jerk, throwing you around in your seat despite being fully strapped up. 

“I can see that,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Well, once you make it to the ground, don’t bother coming to my location. The storm is worse than the reports have indicated. Find shelter for yourselves – I can hold out another day.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’ll do more harm than good forcing you out there in these conditions. I am safe where I am.”

“Which is where?”

The transmission cut out for a moment, shuttering off and on again as sheets of rain pelted the aluminum roof. You caught the last half of his explanation. “--they offered a room for the night, though at a high price. I hope you brought extra credits.”

“Some,” Anakin grit. 

“Perfect. Well, I won’t keep distracting you. It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Obi-Wan bid goodbye, his cheery tone outlandish among your current predicament. “Happy landings,” he bid, and the transmission cut off.

Your fingers dug into your armrests, trusting Anakin’s skill to see that wish through. He was still deeply concentrated, and more than a little stressed as he pulled the yoke and typed over multiple colorful buttons. 

“Well, at least he’s safe,” you offered offhandedly, trying to diffuse the tension. Another hard gust of wind slammed into the hull, this time on your side, followed by a hard sheet of rain. You flinched. 

The lights had begun to flicker a while ago, and now they shut off completely, leaving you in the pitch black. Your sharp intake of air was audible, heart dropping to the pits of your stomach as the assault on the ship heightened.

“It’s okay, I did that on purpose,” Anakin explained. You could hear the strain in his voice, the clacking of his fingers over the overworked dashboard. “We need more power to the engines and thrusters. It’ll be a bumpy landing either way, but–”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. 

“We’re almost there…”  

Bracing yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the armrests, anticipation swirling around in your gut. You trusted him. You didn’t have to be so afraid. It was the weather you didn’t trust. Maker forbid you land in a pit of mud, swallowed up before you could escape. 

A sudden jolt threw you forward, the sickening screech of bolts and rods fighting to hold the metal panels of the shuttle together drowning out all other senses. Inertia pushed you forward in your seat, and you would have gone flying out the windshield if it weren’t for the double straps tightened over your chest, the lap belt, and the death grip you had on your armrests.

Slowly, the sliding of the shuttle ship began to slow, the tension in the shuttle easing, parts settling back into place. Then, the sounds of the vicious rain pelting the roof returned, your body relaxing against the seat with a huff, blinking your eyes open to the pitch blackness of the hull.

“You okay?” Anakin worried, clicking out of his own seatbelt to reach for you. 

You followed suit, fingers fumbling around in the dark for the clasps that would free you. “All good,” you released one set of straps, and Anakin found the two others for you. “Thanks.”

Another gust of wind nudged the shull forward, groaning under the pressure. Some lights flickered on, and there was Anakin fiddling with the control panel overhead so you could see. 

“I don’t think we can stay here for very long, unfortunately,” he said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so stressed. “The ship appears to be sinking. We’ll have to pack a bag and get going.”

Abandon ship? In these conditions?

Again, your unshakable trust in him erased any fear in your mind. He’d done far riskier and more dangerous things – his own fear now was because of you. You’re safety. 

But you were fine – just a little shaky as you stood and reached for the supply crates in the back, rifling through them for necessities, tossing them to Anakin to shove into a bag. You managed to get half of what you’d originally planned to drop off for Obi-Wan into two bags. Anakin shrugged the larger one over his shoulders, and you took the smaller one.

You’d both come prepared, already wearing rain ponchos, but it seemed like they’d do little good as Anakin kicked the stuck door open. The sound of the rain coming down was deafening, a roaring torrent that could easily sweep you away. 

“Hold on to me,” Anakin yelled over the sound, and you hooked an arm around his, pulling you out of the ship with him.

Mud and rain splattered your face as your boots met the ground, and he immediately took off, dragging you with him. Again, your blind faith in him came in handy. All you could focus on was spluttering around the rain for any pocket of air you could find, trying to keep upright as your heels slipped and skidded in the mud, hoping you weren’t slowing Anakin down.

Of course you were slowing him down. You were no Jedi. But you both knew that, and he didn’t mind. Just wanted you out of the wind and rain so you wouldn’t catch a cold.

After what seemed like ages of the two of you fighting through the elements, narrowly avoiding trees and branches and sharp rocks, Anakin pointed out an abandoned shed in the distance. He ran for it, pulling you under the awning with him so he could pound on the door.

“No one’s here,” he spoke after a moment as you were still wiping water out of your eyes. Something clicked in the door, unlocking so Anakin could open it up and peer inside.

He found the light switch on the wall, flipping it up and down uselessly. “Power’s out,” he mumbled, searching around in the force for some mechanism of light. Apparently finding something, he released your hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You stood shivering by the closed door, dripping a puddle of water onto the ground as you waited for him to return. With your sight gone, your other senses were heightened – you could smell the dust of furniture long forgotten, hear the creeks of unkempt floorboards as Anakin explored the shed, and feel the bone-cold chill of the storm seeping in under the crack in the door. Wherever you were, it was very old, and likely abandoned.

Anakin came back around the corner brandishing a candle, shielding the flame with one hand as he made his way back to you.

“This looks like it was somebody’s home at one point,” he thought aloud, pointing to the way he just came. “That’s a kitchen over there, and there’s a loft with a bed in the back. Pretty sure I saw a shower, too. I can probably get the pumps running long enough to make use of it.”

You wouldn’t question how he could do that– sometimes it seemed like he had magical powers, even without the force. 

“Is there a fireplace?” you wondered, shaking off your drenched poncho and stepping further in now that you could see. “Maybe I could heat up some water to use, warm this place up a bit, too.”

Anakin held the candle out before him, casting shadows over the interior of the little shed. Right in front of the door was a wooden stairway – more of a ladder – that led to what you assumed was an attic. Deciding to avoid any bats or rodents, you agreed to keep that shut and rounded the ladder to what looked like a tiny living room opposite the kitchen, separated by a thin wall.

A couple threadbare sofa-chairs sat dusty and weathered on the dull carpet, a table set before the both of them, and – jackpot – a little stone fireplace in the corner.

“The wood from outside is too wet to burn,” Anakin poked at the empty log pit. “But I could break down that table and use it as fuel…”

“Good idea,” you chirped, taking the candle from Anakin to free up his hands for the task. “I’ll go look for more candles and matches.”

The kitchen was just as tiny, standing room only and no dining table. It consisted of a slab of wood for a counter, an empty ice box that was cracked down the middle, and some drawers which were also mostly empty.

One of the cupboard up top held a few random supplies, mostly rubber bands and bottle caps and dead batteries. But amid that was a bag of little tea candles, a few larger ones made of a slippery wax, and a box of matches. Half were no good, but you only needed to light one and then share the flame with all the others.

You planted the tea candles around on various surfaces, lighting the space up as Anakin broke down the table. You threw some old papers you’d found bunched in a drawer into the fireplace for more starter fuel, scratching another match to life against the grated box once Anakin dropped a leg of the table into the fire. You tossed the match in after it, satisfied when the flame caught the edge of the papers and flared to life, enveloping the wooden leg.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed, holding your hands out to warm by the flame. 

“Mmhm,” he agreed, crouched beside you. He stared, mesmerized by the flames for a long moment before suddenly standing. “Alright, I’m gonna go look at the pipes. Will you be okay for now?”

“Yup,” you nodded cheerily. “Where are the pipes?”

“There’s a cellar out back. Should be down there.”

“Oh…” this time, your shiver wasn’t from the cold. “Want me to go with you? Sounds kinda creepy.”

Anakin huffed a laugh, running a hand down the back of your head affectionately. “No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you. Want you to stay here and warm up.”

“I’ll go get the bed ready.”

“Perfect,” he brought you toward him with that hand, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Now alone, you fed the fire with some more wood from the table, crouching down before the bags to get out your and Anakin’s spare set of clothes. You hung them up on the sill of the fireplace, weighing them down with the candles so they could dry. 

There were a couple of large buckets beside the fireplace, probably meant for gathering wood. You took one and set it outside to collect rainwater. It didn’t take very long at all – it filled up from the downpour within minutes, and you hung it up on the metal rod above the fire to boil for drinking water.

Then you grabbed one of the thicker candles to light your way to the back of the shed. The floorboards lifted slightly back here, half of a wall hiding the bedroom from the rest of the interior. 

The bed was quite large for such a small space, half-made with a quilted cover. It looked all dusty and gross, so you tore it off and opened all the drawers and cupboards in the space, praying for some spare sheets.

Luck seemed to be on your side. There was a set of sheets, blankets, and even a couple of pillows stowed away atop the first shelf in the closet. You had to strain on your tiptoes to reach them, but eventually knocked them down to your height. You took them to the living room and shook them out, making sure no dust or any bugs hid inside, then brought them back to the room and made the bed.

It was a lot more than you were hoping for, for an abandoned shed in the depths of the forest.

With the bed all made and Anakin not back yet, you decided to use the old dirty blanket to wipe down the interior of the bathroom. There was a shower – if that’s what you could call it. Really, it was just a spigot attached to the wall with a drain beneath, the floor here made of smooth rock rather than wood. But if Anakin could get it to work, and you warmed up some more water over the fire, you could have a real, warm shower using the soap you’d brought from the ship. 

The sound of the door opening let in the roar of the rain once more. Anakin closed it behind him, shaking water out of his hair.. “Good news,” he called, voice carrying from the door to the bedroom in the small shed. “There’s a water heater down there that I got working, as well as the pipes. I just have to fill the tank and we’re good to go.”

“Ohh,” you cooed excitedly, rounding the corner to meet him again. “I found a bucket we could use– hold on.” You grabbed the spare bucket from the fireplace and handed it to him. “The bed’s all set, I found some clean sheets and cleaned up the bathroom. There doesn’t seem to be anything useful in the kitchen or anywhere else,” you shrugged. “But I think this will do pretty well for the night.”

“I think so, too,” Anakin said, and despite the howling wind and icy rain pounding into the roof and threatening to shatter the windows, he smiled. 

He left to go fill the tank, and you laid out the rest of the supplies before the fire. The bigger bag was for Obi-Wan– those things you didn’t touch. But you and Anakin had a couple extra blankets, some food, a blaster, maps, and your medical supplies. Most of it survived the rain.

By the time Anakin came back, you were still sitting before the fire, occasionally feeding it with more scraps of wood and poking it around with a longer piece. He kicked the mud and dirt off his boots at the door before coming in, shrugging off his poncho. 

“Alright, bad news…” he started this time. You turned to look at him. “The heater is the slowest thing I’ve ever come across. It’ll take hours. I don’t think showers are in the cards for us tonight.”

You twisted your lips, trying not to seem too disappointed. “Bummer.” 

All you wanted to do was get out of these sticky, soaking wet clothes and immerse yourself in a warm shower. But at least he tried, and it really wasn’t the end of the world.

“Maybe in the morning,” you reasoned, trying to stay positive. He joined you by the fire as you tugged on the clothes you’d hung up, seeing if they were ready. “At least these are dry, and warm now. That’s better than nothing.”

“It is. Smart girl,” he tilted your face toward his with a finger, crouched before you again. His lips met yours – wet meeting dry, cold meeting warm. It took you by surprise a little bit, the intensity he kissed you with out of nowhere. But you responded in earnest, as if the simple touch of your flesh could warm him from the torrents coming down outside. 

After a long moment, he pulled back an inch, mumbling against your mouth, “Let’s get out of these wet clothes, yeah?”

You nodded silently, standing once he gave you room to take the clothes down from the fire. 

You’d been on missions with Anakin before, just the two of you. But nothing like this – so raw, so intimate, so secluded from the rest of the world. You could feel a strange tension in the air between you two, not bad. Just… different. Like there was an energy pulsing alive, waiting for something to snap.

You’d been with Anakin for a few months now, and in love with each other for far longer. But… you’d never truly been with him yet. In any way. 

He knew you weren’t ready, and explained you could take it slow. As slow as you wanted. He, of course, was already experienced, and that intimidated you. Which is why it had been months, and you still hadn’t made a move to progress things. Just the thought of doing those things with him made you impossibly nervous.

But lately, like now, you were thinking about it more and more. You couldn’t do this with anyone else, you thought. Just Anakin. You loved him more than life itself, and your ability to express that with words or innocent touches was growing limited. 

You wanted more of him. And you wanted him to have more of you.

What are you thinking? You shook the thoughts out of your head as you took your clothes into the bathroom to change. These thoughts had nothing to do with the predicament you found yourselves in. The last thing he was thinking about was sex.

In fact, upon exiting the bathroom, you found him already changed into his dried pair of pants and nothing else, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you with a tired, slumped look in his eyes.

He’d given you his spare shirt to wear since it was bigger and warmer than yours, and he wasn’t going to wear it anyways. You also had on a pair of shorts, the comfy ones you brought for sleeping since you thought you’d be in an inn right now. 

You approached him slowly, shadows cast over his face from the candlelight, flickering off the walls. The air was a bit chillier back here, away from the fire that you’d let simmer to embers for now. Naturally, you gravitated toward his shirtless form, slotting yourself in the space he’d opened up for you between his knees, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What an odd change of plans,” you muttered into his hair softly.

His flesh hand found your back, holding you close as he nestled his head against your chest. “Agreed.”

You remained like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and rain-damp hair, listening to the constant thrum of the downpour above, the gusting wind in the trees. 

“You tired?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You liked how it looked dark and burnished in the candlelight, holding the shape of a ringlet curl as you wrapped and uncoiled it from around your finger. 

“Very,” he breathed, turning his face into your neck to leave a kiss on your collarbone. “C’mere.”

Both of his wrapped around your back, securely holding you to him as he fell backward onto the bed, with you on top of him. You laughed, steadying yourself with your arms on either side of his head, ducking down to plant a sweet kiss above his brows. 

“You’re not even on the bed,” you pointed out, referring to his legs which were still on the floor. You pulled back the covers, and you both slipped under, instantly finding the spot between his chest and shoulder to lay your head. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you snuggly into his side, allowing you to slot one of your legs between his. 

This is how it always was when you and him could truly be alone, uninterrupted, with no threat of someone finding you out. It was a rare moment, which is why your skin sang with every inch it pressed against his, heart soaring in your chest as your body seemed to settle so perfectly against his, erasing any doubt in your mind that any of this could be a mistake.

Before long, and without even realizing, you slipped into a deep sleep. Despite the harsh weather outside, you’d never felt so comfortable, wrapped up in warmth and darkness. That is, until Anakin woke with a start, wrenching you out of your slumber.

“What issit?” you slurred, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. It wasn’t like when he’d have nightmares, where you’d usually wake up before him due to his tossing and turning and mumbling. This was sudden – like something had possessed him, stolen all the air from his lungs as wide eyes turned to you.

“The transmitter,” he said, throwing the blankets off of him and getting out of bed. Your head was still lagging behind, having no idea what he meant.

“What transmitter?”

“The one on the ship. The only way we can contact Obi-Wan. We left it behind.”

He was already pulling on his boots and reaching for his other shirt, sparing no time. You pushed yourself further up in bed, swiping your hair out of your face. “D’you have to get it now? Can it wait till the morning?”

“The ship was sinking when we left it. It could be buried in mud right now,” he rushed the words out, grabbing his utility belt from the sill and securing it around his waist. “I’ll be back in an hour. Go back to bed… I’m sorry for waking you.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” you were already swinging your legs off the bed too, about to stand up when Anakin put a hand on your shoulder. It was dark now, the candles having been blown out without you realizing, and you could barely see his face.

“No. Stay here. I don’t want you out there, it’s too dangerous.”

“It’s just some rain,” your argument sounded meek, even to you. “Come on, Anakin, I don’t want you to go alone. ‘S not fair.”

“Fair?” 

“You shouldn’t have to be out there while I stay here and sleep. I won’t be able to, anyway. It is dangerous, so I should come with you, in case something happens.”

“Y/n. No,” he said sternly, and you flinched. A heavy pause hung between you, where you searched for what to say among the scattered thoughts in your brain. He’d never been stern with you before. Ever. 

“I won’t be gone long. I promise I’ll be there and back as fast as I can. Okay?”

“But,” you insisted stubbornly, desperately fighting back the sting in your eyes. “I want to go with you, Anakin. I want to help you.”

You tried to stand up again, but the hold he had on your shoulders wouldn’t let you. You tried to fight back the emotion rising in your throat, threatening to spill over your eyes at his defiance. He was too strong, his word absolute– and for once, you couldn’t sway him.

The thought of him out there, alone in the dark and cold and rain… it killed you.

You grasped at his wrists, still holding onto your shoulders, and squeezed as if you could keep him there. As if he wasn’t laughably stronger than you, and could pull away from your touch without realizing you were trying.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? This isn’t like you,” his words came out hushed now. Worried. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sniffed, lip beginning to wobble. “Just don’t want you to get hurt.” It’s scary out there.

“I won’t. I promise… I’ll be okay. You’ll see,” he kissed the stray tear that squeezed out of your eye, collecting it with his lips before it could trail a path down your cheek. You tried to steady your breathing, shaky as it dragged in and out of your lungs, quelling the rising feeling of dread and fear.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you back into bed, on your back, tucking the sheets in around you nice and tight. Tight enough so that you couldn’t get out, perhaps. Whimpering in defeat, you felt another few tears squeeze out of your eyes, turning your head away from him to bury into the pillow.

“Don’t do this,” Anakin murmured, stroking a hand over your hair. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Fine,” you snipped, immediately regretting it. “‘M sorry… just don’t get hurt. Come back.”

“I will,” he whispered, and trailed warm kisses down your temple. 

And then he was gone.

His voice, his touch, his scent, his warmth – all of it, vanished like it had never been there to begin with.

It’s not the fact that he’d left to go do something dangerous on his own – it was the fact that he was out there all alone, in a terrible storm, fighting through the unpredictability of the elements. It had been violent for the short time you’d been out there earlier, the rain pelting your skin so hard it stung, the mud sticking to your boots, refusing to let you move, the wind nearly toppling you over if Anakin hadn’t been there to steady you.

You could have gone with him. You could have kept up. And Maker forbid anything happen to him – if he got stuck, trapped somewhere, if a tree came down over him, if he got lost and couldn’t find his way–

You couldn’t stay in bed. Half of you wanted to pull your boots on too and meet him out there, but you knew that was a stupid decision. You didn’t have his sense of direction, the built in radar that he had. And even as you peered through the cloudy window to the outside world, you knew it would be in vain. The night forest was alive with shuttering tree limbs, branches fighting each other in the sky as the terrible wind tossed them around. The rain never let up, the same suffocating sheet of water dumping from the moonless sky above.

Anakin was far gone at this point. You could only sit by the window, alone in the cold, dusty dark, until he returned.

The sleeves of your – Anakin’s – shirt had grown damp by the time you spotted his figure appear out of the trees. 

It startled you at first, worried some stranger had come across the shed in the same way you and Anakin had, and was now heading this way to seek shelter. Once he arrived, he might find you here, and maybe he’d try to hurt you.

You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and grabbed for the water-logged blaster you’d set on the floor, shaking out some raindrops and hoping it wasn’t one of the things that got destroyed by the rain. 

Your worry was for naught - the closer the figure grew, the more you recognized the height, shape, and gait of Anakin Skywalker. The hood of his poncho was pulled up over his head, but it did little good as the wind tugged and pulled at it, letting the rain drench his face anyway.

You set the blaster down and met him by the door, pulling it open to reveal him soaked to the bone and panting. He truly had run the whole way.

“Anakin,” you started, trying to stay out of his way so he could take off his poncho and boots without spraying you with water. “Are you okay? Did you get the transmitter?”

“I made it just in time,” he explained, reaching into his belt pocket and brandishing the little metal device. Such a small thing, important enough to risk his life over. 

At least, to him it was.

“You must be freezing,” you muttered, still upset at the fact that you hadn’t shared in his suffering. You hated seeing him go through these things alone. You should have been with him. 

“The heaters have probably had enough time to warm the water up,” his attempt to distract you didn’t go unnoticed. “You wanna go check for me?”

You whispered, “okay,” and flit back to the bedroom, lighting a couple of candles inside so you could see. The spigot was stuck in place due to years of sitting unused and abandoned, but eventually you managed to wrench it to the side, almost splattering yourself with brown water.

Your face crinkled in disgust, but soon it began to run clear. You tested the temperature with your fingertips, pleased to feel that it was warm.

Anakin rounded the corner, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed. “Is it working?”

“Yeah. It’s warm,” you pulled your hand away and wiped it dry on your shorts. “You should get in quick so it’s not wasted.”

“Wanna join me?”

His offer caught you by surprise.

Join him? In the shower? As in… naked?

The look on your face must have given your thoughts away. He chuckled and reached toward one of the tea lights you’d just lit, snuffing the flame out between two gloved fingers. “I can turn off the lights…” he teased.

Damn him. As if you weren’t already flustered – 

The steady trickle of the spigot remained at your back, seducing you to the warmth of the shower. It would feel so good to be able to wash up. And with there only really being enough time for one shower… it would make sense for the both of you to just do it together.

But Anakin had never seen you without clothes before. And you hadn’t prepared for that to happen today.

“Yes… no…?” he drawled, uncrossing his arms and reaching out for the other candle. Like the first, he pinched the flame out, blanketing the room in darkness. The sound of the floorboards creaking was the only way you knew he was approaching, tensing as you felt his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll behave.”

You were still upset with him being stern with you earlier. And even more upset that he didn’t let you go with him. 

But something about his honey-smooth voice reduced you to putty in his hands. Warmth budded and bloomed deep in your stomach, and a certain resolve passed over you. You didn’t want to be upset anymore. You wanted this. 

“Okay,” you whispered, fingers finding Anakin’s at the bottom of your shirt. You didn’t miss his slight inhale.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you tugged the hem up yourself, urging him to guide the material over your head. 

The darkness of the room was the only thing that offered you any sort of comfort, knowing he couldn’t truly see you just yet. You knew, logically, that he could fathom things in his mind without having to see them, but purposely ignored that fact.

You weren’t sure where your shirt landed, as he’d been the one to tug your arms out himself. Riding the adrenaline high, you slipped your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and pushed them down, kicking them somewhere in the corner.

And there you were, standing completely naked in front of Anakin Skywalker – your love, your life – for the first time ever.

Again, the only reason you could really do this right now was because it was pitch black in the room. You only had enough nerve to then reach for him, hand finding the soaking wet material of his own shirt as you shivered in the cold.

“Hurry up and get undressed, I wanna get in,” you pleaded. He’d gone eerily silent.

At your request, he started into motion. You could hear the sounds of his wet clothes slopping to the ground heavily, trying to fight the blush off of your face as you turned around to pull the spigot further. The water began to rain down in a warm current now, and you stepped underneath to douse yourself in the glorious heat.

“Where are yo–? oh,” you jumped as you felt his hands find their way around your waist, his naked chest pressed up against your back. The water sprayed over the both of you, trickling down his body to fall onto yours, shivering at the added heat.

The blood in your face grew warmer, trying not to think about how close his hands were to two very sensitive parts of your body. They spanned almost the whole length of your torso, tummy twisting as you realized just how big he was. Just how strong.

But he chose to be gentle with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, you reached for the soap you’d stowed away in the notch in the wall, flipping the cap open and squirting a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Anakin trailed his fingers down your arm, taking the bottle from you and setting it down again. 

You rubbed the soap between your hands, letting the excess drip down your body so it wouldn’t go to waste. Then, you began rubbing the suds all into your skin, feeling impossibly feverish at the predicament.

It just felt… wrong, somehow, to be touching yourself like this in front of Anakin. Even if you were just washing up.

His hands had returned to your waist, and you smoothed them over his own as you worked your way down your body. Wordlessly, he turned his hands over, capturing your soapy fingers in his and stealing some of the suds. You huffed a laugh, heart fluttering in your chest as he began to work that soap into the soft skin of your stomach, hips, and waist. 

You tried not to squirm too much. Forced yourself to relax, and just let him do what he wanted. He was obviously enjoying it, the way he lingered, rubbing circles into your soft skin, kissing at your shoulder blade as he brought his hands around and up your back, almost massaging the soap into you. 

The way his hands moved over your body was so different than anything you’ve ever felt before. You’d never been touched so tenderly, so unrestricted yet loving as you’d been now. And though he had free reign, he avoided the parts that might make you uncomfortable… until you grew bold enough to capture his wandering hands in your own, leading them to the soft mounds of flesh yourself. 

On instinct he squeezed, ever so gently, with your smaller fingers bracketing his own. “You can touch me,” you whispered, encouraging now that you were fully relaxed and comfortable with him.

“You’re perfect,” he replied, lips finding the curve of your neck.

What had he said about behaving?

As if he could read your thoughts, his lips released the skin of your neck with a small sound, pressing a kiss above that spot, and then one more under your jaw. Then he began to move his hands over your breasts, not quite sexual, but gentle. Caring. Washing you of rainwater and chill, so all that was left was the sweet smelling soap and the feel of him.

You sighed in relief, bones turning to mush in his hands. Soon, he reached for the soap again and squeezed more out, stepping around so that he was in front of you.

His hands found you again, your waist this time, the unpredictability of his touches making your heart hammer against your ribs. Something about it was so thrilling, not being able to see where he was or where he was planning to go, especially now that you’d given him permission to touch you. You weren’t sure where you’d draw the line if it came to that. If you’d draw the line. 

His touch remained wholly innocent, though, focusing back around on your stomach, dragging down the curve of your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs. You could feel his breath on your tummy, butterflies flaring to life as you realized he was on his knees before you, dragging his touch up and down your thighs as his lips pressed a sensual kiss to the top of your tummy. Then above your belly button. Then one below–

You held your breath, anticipating him to keep going. But he lingered on the last kiss, and you could feel his teeth on your skin as he smiled.

“On my best behavior, remember?” his voice was deep, almost a purr. 

You could only manage a meek “Mmhm,” as he continued on, tracing his fingers down to your knee, lifting one leg slightly so he could trail kisses down your thigh, over your knee, down, down down, all the while rubbing soap into your skin in his lip’s wake.

By the time he reached your foot, you were bracing yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying not to jump out of your skin as his lips continued. He kissed your ankle, the top of your foot, massaging soap into the soles of your feet. 

He wasn’t just washing you. He was worshiping you.

That much was clear as he released that leg and started over on the other side. 

You were almost relieved when he was done. Every inch of your skin was alive and buzzing, standing on edge with electricity and embarrassment and something else. Something deep, and smooth, and warm like bubbling molasses. You could barely breathe, glad for the moment of reprieve when he finally released you, and deposited more soap in his hands so he could wash himself. 

Your legs were jelly, afraid you’d fall down right there in the shower, completely baffled how he could just do something like that and continue on like nothing happened. Then, you heard the speed at which he was rubbing the soap over his own body – clearly, he wanted to get out to continue this elsewhere. 

You weren’t terribly ashamed to admit you were thinking along the same line.

Before the water could run cold, Anakin had urged you both under the spigot again and rinsed all the suds off your body. Then he grabbed for the single towel that you’d brought from the supply bag, turning the water off and wrapping you up in it.

“Hey– what’re you doing?” you pouted, undoing the towel just as soon as he’d tucked it into you, secure.

“Getting you dry,” he responded like it was obvious. You rubbed the towel over your skin quickly, then wrapped Anakin in it like he’d done to you. Or– you tried to, at least. You still couldn’t see, and completely missed your mark, caught off guard by the absence of the body you confidently reached for that you almost slipped, bracing yourself on the first thing you could reach.

“Woah,” Anakin chuckled, easily steadying you with his hands around your waist. Your bare chest was pressed against his, glaringly obvious with the way the cold air tightened your skin, and you blushed furiously. 

“Sorry– couldn’t find you,” you mumbled, hopelessly patting at his chest with the towel now that you had him.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed and out of here before you take us both down,” he teased, bending to retrieve the clothes you’d both discarded in the dark.

You let him pull his shirt over your head first, shielding you from the nippy air. You were disappointed with the loss of contact, but glad for the sense of normalcy. He knelt before you again and urged you to lift your leg with his hand around your calf, guiding one leg, then the other into your shorts, pulling them up until they rested comfortably on your hips.

He pulled his own pants on, the only thing he’d be wearing, and you finally reached for the bathroom door, ready to be able to see again even if it was only by candlelight.

It was like re-entering life, after being in the dark for so long. You turned to see if Anakin was following you, finding him close behind as he shut the door behind him, and just the sight of his ridiculously handsome face, gilded by the glow of the fire, set your heart aflame.

You needed his lips on yours. Now.

This time, he was taken by surprise with the intensity of your kiss. You stood on your tiptoes and captured his lips with yours, barely noticing as he fell back into the door slightly, hand finding your hip to steady you. His surprise quickly melted into an intensity that matched your own, hot lips sliding over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth for a taste, palm guiding your jaw just how he liked.

He kissed like he was drinking you in, breathing your air, as if he wished to share the same skin as you. And though you’d started it, now you were trying to keep up, head growing fuzzy from lack of oxygen as he began to guide you backward, onto the bed.

As soon as your back hit the mattress, the reality of the situation dawned on you. He wasn’t slowing down, and you didn’t want him to. His touch dragged fire across your flesh, tracing down the places he’d just worshiped under your clothes, pulling you so close to him you could feel his heart hammer in his chest.

Your hands buried in his hair, the other on his shoulder for stability, grounding as he released your lips with a gasp, wasting no time before claiming the sensitive skin of your neck with the same furiosity. 

“Anakin,” you breathed, not really sure what you wanted to say. You just wanted to taste his name in your mouth, the way the syllables sounded so pretty, so perfect between your teeth.

He answered with a short “mmm,” listening but not really. He was too deep into it, kissing and sucking and nipping at your neck, tongue laving over the small hurts that his teeth dug into you. 

Somehow his flesh hand had drifted to the elastic of your shorts. You’d missed it before, too caught up in him toying with the skin over your pulsepoint. But now his fingers teased the elastic that he’d just put on you, and despite your livewire nerves and the pound of your heart, you lifted your hips in invitation.

His mouth detached from your neck, shocked again as he breathed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you forbid him from asking again by pulling him back to your lips. You needed the distraction, bracketing his jaw in both your hands as he pulled your shorts down your legs, slowly. Giving you time to back out.

You kicked them off once he reached your feet, flinging them out of sight. Anakin settled back between your thighs, your knees squeezing his waist, squirming as his touch now roamed free under your shirt.

“Anakin,” you pulled away to breathe once again, lips swollen and wet, filled with the taste of him. “I– I don’t know what to do.”

His eyelashes shuttered, delicate as a butterfly wing, and he leaned back in to peck you gently on the lips. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured, eyes all melted and soft. “I’ll take care of you.”

There it was again. That blind trust. 

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d let him. Half dressed, strewn over the bed, all for his taking… and he moved down your body to recount the kisses he’d pressed to your stomach in the shower only moments before.

Your muscles clenched and unclenched, hips squirming as you felt an uncomfortable warmth, a wetness, an ache between your legs the further down he moved. You were no stranger to that feeling, or how to relieve it– but you were new to sharing it with someone else. Sharing it with him. 

Though it made you incredibly nervous to have him down there, the need for his touch outweighed everything. He kissed your stomach, hips, and thighs until he felt you relax under his palms, and only then did he slide his hands beneath your knees, pausing one last time to ask:

“Will you let me taste you?”

It felt like something exploded in your face, with the intensity that heat bloomed in your cheeks. Those bejeweled eyes shining in the candlelight, intent on you, hands clutching the plush softness of the backs of your thighs, breath ghosting over the bottom of your stomach– it was almost too much.

“Okay,” you answered quietly, nodding your head. “Y-yes.”

His responding grin was wicked – roguish. Broad hands pushed your legs up and spread them apart, baring it all for him to see.

It was quick– so quick you barely had time to be embarrassed, like ripping a bandaid off. He just… did it. And now he was looking at you, holding your thighs so steady in his strong grasp that you couldn’t even dream of closing them on him.

You threw a hand over your eyes, unable to watch him look at you.

“Baby,” he breathed, flesh hand releasing one of your legs so he could slot it between your thighs, thumb pulling you open a little. You didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed as he studied you, only opening your eyes to look at him when he tugged at your wrist in silent demand.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he teased, though when you blinked open your wet eyes to look at him, his face had melted into one of adoration. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before pressing his lips to the swollen bud of your clit, taking you by surprise again. “The prettiest there ever was,” he smirked when he saw your reaction, pulling you open with both thumbs now so he could press a hot, deep, lingering kiss into you.

You gasped at the contact, blood rushing in your ears as your back bowed off the bed. Sparks of pleasure battled the humiliation as he continued planting sweet little suckling kisses to your clit, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

Once you’d relaxed back onto the bed, and the first pathetic whimper left your mouth, he let his tongue roam your folds, collecting your taste.

He knew this was new for you, so he went slow. Started gentle, getting you used to the feeling. And it was strange for you, just a little bit, but mostly it felt… good. So good. Indescribably good. So much so that you couldn’t believe you’d held out on this for so long.

Couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you now. 

Your hips twitched and jumped as his tongue traced down to your entrance, teasingly licking you in circles, using pressure like he might try to put it in. The thought had you reaching for the bedsheets, needing something to squeeze in your fists. One of his hands intercepted yours, bringing it back to your thigh so he could hold you still and let you squeeze his hand at the same time. 

He licked your arousal up, truly drinking you now, allowing his tongue to lave over your clit all slow and smooth and warm. You mewled, a sweet, innocent sound that went straight to his cock. With a desire to pull more pretty sounds from you, he kept drawing circles over your clit, increasing the pressure and speed until your eyes were closed, and you were biting your finger between your teeth, unable to help the sounds escaping you.

“Fuck, Ani–”  gasped, thighs falling open by themselves now, inviting him deeper. He licked you again, closing his lips at the top of your heat to suck your clit into his mouth, pulling it between his lips with a pulsing suction. 

He didn’t let up. 

Your muscles tensed, the fuzzy warmth building in your gut, between your legs, spreading down your thighs, becoming all consuming. And just when you thought it would burst, he let go.

“Shit,” you cried, breathless as your hips rocked against his mouth. He laughed, sticking his tongue out so you could hump the met muscle, hot breath fanning over your most sensitive parts. His teeth gleamed in the firelight, dark eyes trained on you, and you had to shut your own so you didn’t cum right there.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulled his face away, pinching the inside of your thigh just enough to sting. You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze again. “Stay with me, pretty girl.”

His mouth, shining with your slick, lowered to your pussy again. And you couldn’t stop from moaning, hips canting up and down even though you knew it made his job more difficult. You just couldn’t help it– it felt too good. 

And he knew that, so he was nice. It was your first time, after all. So he relaxed the hold he had on your hips and let you squirm, just a little, to delude you into thinking you had even an ounce of control.

“You gonna cum in my mouth, sweet thing?” he spoke against your cunt, sealing the words off with a loud, wet, kiss. “Gonna make a mess for me?”

You’d never appreciated the velvety timber of his voice more than right now. 

“Mhm,” you whimpered pathetically, eyes squeezing closed. And again, he let you. There would be other times to play his wicked games.

“Alright, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready,” he soothed, returning his mouth to your clit. He licked and sucked, sliding his tongue back down to your hole and breaching the entrance like he’d fantasized about doing with his cock for so long now, carving the exact path he would take. You gasped for air, humming it out in cute helpless whines and whimpers, cheeks permanently stained in a flush.

“Anakin, I–” you wanted to say you loved him, no matter how pathetic that sounded. But it was true, it was all you could feel as his lips suctioned around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue in torturous circles. You loved him, loved his mind and his body, and the way his lips and tongue were pulling that glorious wave of heat from out of you now, swallowing the gush of hot slick that escaped from your pulsing hole.

He brought you down with his thumb on your clit, soothing gentle circles into it as you cried, body shaking and jerking beneath him. He watched you come undone with a small smile on his face, not allowing you to escape his attention for even a moment. 

The last gulp of air that you took to settle your shivering muscles felt like the sweetest breath you’d ever taken. Anakin climbed back up your body, hands sliding over your knees, so he could kiss you deep on the lips.

You tasted yourself – it wasn’t bad… slightly salty, but not quite. That mixed with the taste of Anakin had your brain turn to mush again, lips lazy and compliant under his.

“See how good you taste?” he hummed, going back in to flirt his tongue around yours. “Fucking delicious.”

“Anakin–” you were pushing at his chest now, the buffer of arousal no longer shielding you from so much embarrassment. He laughed as you covered your face with your hands, immediately trying to tug them away again.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted with that lover’s pur, and you pouted once he finally succeeded in seeing your face again. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, still smiling. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, unable to fight back your own matching smile. “‘T was so good, Ani. Didn’t think… didn’t think it’d be like that.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, leaning into his warm palm as he cupped your cheek, thumb still stroking your bottom lip. “Thank you. Do you– do you want me to…”

It took him a second before he realized what you were talking about. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down, then laughed. “No– no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted, mirth and adoration oozing from his gaze. “But I can handle it tonight. Think that was enough for you.”

You pouted again, about to insist, but he kept you quiet with a kiss. “Another time, okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, complaisant.

“Good.” With a deep breath of his own, he lifted himself off of you, carefully closing your legs so they wouldn’t ache from being held open for so long. “Wait here,” he requested, and then left for the bathroom again.

He grabbed the towel you both had used, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can you open up for me?” he asked, fingers sliding around your thigh in silent request.

Your face burned even harder than before, somehow, as you fulfilled his request, spreading your legs a bit so he could clean you up. It was a strange feeling, almost more intimate than what he’d previously been doing– but it was quick, and it felt nice now that your arousal was all cleaned up, and he could slip your shorts back on with you having to get up. 

Anakin retreated back to the bathroom and was gone for a few long moments. You had an idea of what he was doing, another burst of heat blooming in your stomach at the thought of what was going on behind that door. You had half a mind to suggest helping him again. You were more than willing.

But he came out only a short time later to find that you’d straightened all the sheets, and were now waiting by the pillows for him to come back to bed with you. He blew out the candles as he passed them by, getting into the bed and wasting no time pulling you onto his chest.

He’d never felt closer to you. And you, him.

In the morning, you’d probably be embarrassed again, recalling what you’d done. The storm outside seemed to trap you in a bubble, your own world, and everything else seemed so far away now.

You pressed your palm to his chest, letting the strong thud, thud, thud of his heart lull you to sleep. Before he could feel you drift off, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, and you heard it in your dreams. 

divider from @saradika

[http-shield]

my coffee?- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: fluff, established friendships/budding romance, set in CA:CW timeline where Bucky is in Romania trying to piece back together his life, mixed POV, divination (coffee reading) slight sexual themes, reader is helping bucky try to find some sense of normalcy within his life, human reader, bucky is a lil lovesick loser, lil old world slavic witchy magic, ~ wc: 1.3k ~ not proofread "Do you want me to read your coffee?" Bucky tilts his head. "My coffee?" 

Rain pelts the window as a summer storm rolls over the city.

It had come in quick, the thunder starting only ten minutes before the sky opened and unleashed chaos upon the unprepared populous. You had been halfway home, plastic bags swinging at your side full of groceries as the sky groaned, flashes of lighting backlighting the mountains as you took in the darkness of the clouds building. Your steps hurried, smelling rain on the warm breeze, knowing you only had minutes to reach home.

The heaviness of the bags slows you down, plastic digging into your fingers painfully enough to warrant a reshuffle of the load. Water begins to splatter the cobblestones around you, hitting the earth with soft plinks, and you start to rush, moving items from one bag to another in an effort to distribute the weight evenly, but just as quickly as the rain began, the cold drops sliding down your exposed back stop. You look up from your work, feeling a presence hover above you and are greeted by a smiling Bucky. He stands over you, your pink umbrella held high over your head, and you stare up at him, dumbfounded. 

"What are you- How did you…?" the question comes out in jumbled words as he bends to lift the bags.

His smile is one of ease, mischief lurking behind blue eyes at your blatant surprise. 

"I heard the thunder and realised you didn't take your umbrella, so I came looking for you," he shrugs as though it were the most casual explanation in the world. 

"You came looking for me?" 

"I know the route you take, and you were either walking home or still shopping." The plastic bags are strung over his left arm, and he extends the right one, holding a space for you to loop yours through his.

"You came looking for me." you can't help the smile that spreads across your face as you link limbs. 

"Of course." the way he smiles has your heart stuttering in your chest. 

Bucky begins to walk, setting the pace as you hurry to reach proper shelter. The rain gets heavier with each passing second. You try to suppress the grin, your teeth digging into your bottom lip, but it remains, cheeks aching and burning at his thoughtfulness. 

—-

"Do you want me to read your coffee?" you ask excitedly as he drinks the last of the brewed drink, setting the small cup back into the saucer. 

Bucky tilts his head. "My coffee?" 

You nod, a wordless answer as you scooch closer to him, hands reaching for the porcelain. His watchful gaze follows you, eyes following the lines of your body as you bend forward, dressed in only your pyjama shorts and oversized t-shirt, and he in a black shirt and sweatpants. There is a comfortability between the two of you, the knowledge of who he is, and it has been long established that he no longer has to hide his mental appendage. His heart aches at that. How you had accepted him for all he had done, knowing who and what he was.

Your bare leg brushing against his left arm has his thoughts deviating from the warmth that fills his chest at your kindness to a different kind of warmth blooming deeper. The rain had been both a blessing and a curse as it soaked you both through regardless of the umbrella he had bought. It had started coming down at an angle, and there was no way he could fight against it as you ran. By the time you crossed the threshold into the lobby, your entire body was drenched, clothes sticking to you in a way that held nothing for the imagination, and Bucky had to look away, turning his attention to the bags full of rain splattered groceries. That familiar heat returned to his stomach and only intensified as you began to climb the stairs, taking them two at a time before him, reaching the apartment in record time. He had kept his gaze averted as you tried to unpack the shopping, water dripping from your fingers while you dug through bags, but Bucky pushed you away. His hands gripping your shoulders, he steered you towards the bathroom, instructing you to get out of the wet clothes in fear of catching a cold, something he had heard you mutter to him a thousand times over the first time he had turned up at your door soaking wet from the rain. With the door slammed shut, he had a moment to breathe. To try and address the feeling in his stomach that had begun to pool into a sea of fire. To fix the issues that had started growing. Shame filled his cheeks, unable to think of you like that first and foremost, but secondly, how had such a simple and innocent image of you been enough to have his mind spiralling like that?  He shakes the thought away again as he focuses back on the present. 

You're holding the chipped tea cup, upturned on the plate. 

"My grandma taught me this when I was younger." You explain, eyes trained on the crockery. "Apparently, she had the gift." 

"The gift?" Bucky queries. 

"Yeah, the gift. Sight. Knowledge, you know?" you wiggle the fingers of your free hand as though casting a spell. 

"So, like a witch?" 

"Basically."

Bucky hums, watching as you flip the cup over and smile, whispering words as though they were an incantation.  His attention is rapt as you twist and turn the mug, eyes narrowing at shapes he cannot see. 

"Oh, ova e odličen znak." the foreign words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. 

"It's a good sign?" Bucky is quick to answer in english, suddenly very eager in his fortune regardless of how silly he thinks this is.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "How did you-"

"I speak Russian, remember?" he leans in and flicks your forehead with his right hand.

"But that wasn't Russian." you rub at the spot is fingers had just hit but it doesn’t hurt.

"Close enough." he shrugs, inching closer to get a look into the cup. Your shampoo fills his nose, the lavender scent soothing something within him. 

"Okay, okay." you brush off the questions that begin to rise within you. "Let's see." 

You examine the cup further, turning it over to Bucky, and you point out shapes and figures made in the rivers of coffee. He sees nothing but blobs of brown but nods along anyway, enjoying how you feel as you lean further into him. His heart begins to race, his ribs not used to the pace it sets. 

"You are going to live a good, long life, Mr. Barnes." you finally announce, handing the cup to him. 

"Anything else?" fingers brush over yours, sending shivers across his skin. 

"There was a cat and a house." You think for a moment, and he worries that the following words from your mouth won't be so happy. "Something about a girl and a kid." 

"A girl?" his mouth quirks up. "Like a wife?"

The answer is a nod and a soft smile. 

"You're lying!" the accusation comes out a little louder than he intended but is followed by a laugh as he shoves the cup back in your hands.

"I am not!" you shriek back, turning the mug back around, finger-pointing to the most prominent smudge at the bottom. "See, a pregnant woman!" 

Utter bullshit. It is a clump of coffee grounds. 

But he doesn't say that, doesn't dismiss the happy future you had almost entirely made up. Instead, he looks at you, his lip worried between his teeth. "Nothing about…before?" 

"Nope." With a shake of your head, you put his mind at ease. "As far as the cup is concerned, there was never a before." Soft fingers push his hair back behind his ear, curling around the edge of his jaw. Bucky leans into your touch, his body relaxing as your thumb begins to stroke soothing lines across his cheek.

Bucky knows you're lying. There will always be a before with him, and until you, he rarely thought there would be an after, but right now, with your strange and probably very untrue predictions, he cannot stop himself from wishing it would come true.

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔. angst

feat. Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader | wc. 2.1K

sum. it was always him who has to go and leave you with the cold sheets, leon didn't know what it felt like until he came home with an empty house and no signs of your warmth. he makes it to his mission to find you.

note. entirely self indulgent since I'm a sucker for this man. no leon in this fic is not as old as he was in the gif.

main m.list re m.list

Today the storm would hit. All the local news channels were talking about the immense storm that was brewing just outside the city walls. You usually prefer the tranquility it brought if it wasn't for the gloomy atmosphere in the room.

Dim lights, closed tawdry curtains and half eaten confectionery. This setting was not unfamiliar to you, in fact, you had grown accustomed to the regular loneliness that it became your best friend.

With your boyfriend far away, it wasn't hard to decipher you were in a relationship with someone who prioritize their work.

It's a bitter thought at first, but as much as you want Leon to switch job you had already adapted this type of life as his S/O. He provided your necessities in his absence, but you still worked your ass to earn your own money

But. . . such glamorous life is not as tempting as being alone in that cold home and befriending with the ghosts that haunt your nightmares.

To a stranger's standpoint they may think Leon Kennedy is a Prince Charming; he may look the part, but to you, he was just an awkward boyfriend with little to no experience when it came to romance. He was rough around the edges and a goal-orientated person, but a natural smooth flirt with you.

Maybe that's what drawn you to him. Leon is a charming and handsome man who only has raw emotions to confess. You remember how adorable he was when he fumbled his confession.

You miss the startup of your relationship; the typical hand holding, the cliche whispers of sweet nothingness, the innocent stolen glances, the often awkward conversation that led to one another.

Relationships do start like a paradise before eventually becoming a dystopian nightmare. It was fun at the start, you enjoyed the times you spent with Leon and you wouldn't trade those memories for anything, however. . . it's been so long since you've seen paradise.

It's always the dawn light basking you in its morning warm before the cold space besides your bed wakes you up to reality.

Today was no different. You wake up, take a hot bath, make breakfast, eat your breakfast, brush your teeth, go to work, make or buy lunch, go home, nap, make dinner then sleep. A repetitive cycle that still leaves you bedridden oftentimes.

You're aware of his profession. No, he didn't tell you anything and he doesn't know that you know. You were smart enough to deduce this much on what's going on with your boyfriend, that's why you understood why he had to be away for such long periods of time.

Hadn't you pieced it together, you'd doubt his loyalty to you. You badly want to confront him with the relevation you found, but he hasn't been answering your texts nor calls. So you let it be.

Until you received a short message from him;

"Hey, sweet cake. I'll be back by tomorrow morning."

You laugh bitterly. Every text he sends is neither comprised with a greeting of his arrival or his departure. Now that you think about it. One strong scroll up to your previous conversations and you'll be overwhelmed by a tons of same texts.

Thunder roared, the heavy rain began pelting down and you took it as a sign to retire to your shared bedroom.

You slumped in the mattress with a blissful sigh, today's work was tiring as usual. Sleep was lulling you in your dreams when you heard an audible thud reverberating in the living room.

*THUD*

Bristling, a frown settled on your forehead and tried to make sense if it was a figment of your imagination due to lassitude or there's someone in the house. The latter made your heart leap and you promptly got up, out of your somnambulism.

The harsh pitter pat plus the occasional thunder outside only increases the building anxiety in your chest.

Was it Leon? It couldn't be him when he just texted me. He usually rings the bell, and that's not how our doorbell sounds.

Albeit slowly as to try not to make any noise, you peak through the small gap between the door's hinges and a shadow immediately loomed the other side.

Out of instinct, you gasped audibly and clamped your hands over your mouth, hoping whoever's outside has a poor hearing sense.

Your eyes darted in the small room to find any form of weapon you can defend yourself. If Leon works for the government, surely he must be hiding his guns somewhere in his home.

However, you weren't quick enough to deduce the possible location before the door is kicked open making you shriek in fright and hid on the other side of the bed.

You had grabbed your phone on the nightstand and began to type to your boyfriend. Hopefully he'll see it before you get killed.

This intruder is not even hiding the fact they're here. If so, they're not your simple criminal who steals at night.

"Never thought I'd hear the rookie got himself a partner in life, he can't even get a partner in his job." A gruff voice bounced off the four walls of the small room.

It's definitely not Leon and you've never met this man before.

A glinting object from the drawers of your night stand caught your undivided attention. With shaking hands, you fumble to open the drawer and nearly sigh out of relief when you came across a simple gun. You immediately snatched it and switch the safety.

Footsteps began to near your spot. "What a shame, though. I love a good hunt and you didn't even give me a proper one. You're disappointing as your boyfriend." In one swift movement, the bed you were hiding was swooped from the other corner.

Your terrified scream were drowned by the sound of the loud banging reverberating countless times in the room, the poor wooden bed easily breaking upon meeting the cold stone wall with such brutal force. The pieces clanked with a rough thud.

You coiled tightly like a spring in the corner with your almost unhinged jaws, full moon eyes, chattering teeth, drenched temples and shuddering shoulders.

In your frenzy state, you subconsciously held the gun at the man, fingers curling on the trigger. "Ah! Ah! It won't do you any good if you pull that. After all, my knives are faster than guns."

"W-Who are you?" You praised yourself for even uttering those words as you look up at the bulky man. The most noticeable feature you noticed is the scar running from left eye to the side of his lips. He's clad in what it looks like a standard military outfit.

An airy chuckle left his mouth, he bends down on your level making you recoil even further at the corner.

"Who am I? Let's ask your boyfriend after he saves you, that is, if he will come save you. Sweet dreams, Y/N L/N."

You were harshly slammed in the head before you could wonder how he knows your name or if you had the time to send Leon a parting message.

A cold breeze morning welcomed the dying rays of the sun, the incandescent amber tones of the twilight illuminated the streets, ever so vibrant; full of life, peope, kaleidoscopic colors, children laughing. The only thing missing is you.

Leon was originally ecstatic about his somewhat safe return in your arms. He hasn't been home in literal months and saying he misses you would be an understatement of the year.

The previous mission took a while to accomplish because of unprecedented occurrences that made it impossible to finish in the given set of time.

But his ardor energy was brought down at the mention of another yet mission to accomplish. It's worse to think he can't even refuse it because it was given to him by the direct orders of the president.

What's even worse is that he has to fly to another country for this.

He was thankful enough that he gets to spend his day with you before departing to Spain. He's both physically and mentally drained to think about it. All he needs is to cuddle with you and convey about the many things he wants to talk with you.

It's the best he could do for you if he'd be away for god knows how long. He feels guilty for keeping you in his life if this is the treatment you'll receive from him.

You never asked him any questions, it's always about his health and everything, but personal questions? You never did. He knows it isn't because you're not interested, it's more like you already know.

He shakes his head at the thought. He's confident he has been discreet enough to not let anything slip on what he deals in his job.

Reaching the shared house, a sudden uneasiness crept in his back. It looks relatively normal on the outside, but Leon can't help the nagging feeling that something is not right.

He dropped his duffel bag by the door and cautiously rang the bell.

Each passing second being unresponsive was filled with anxiety.

Perhaps you're at work. With that in mind, he fished out the spare key to unlock the door. Upon turning the knob, the hinges fell apart until the whole door collapsed on the tiled floor.

On a daily scenario, Leon would've taken out his gun or knife by now knowing someone had broke in his home, where he thought you'd be the safest. You.

But he has been reduced to a state of panic that his eyes became frantic and his breathing became labor. No! No! No! NO!

The most rational thing would've been calling the cops to report this. The thing is, Leon is nowhere near rational. If any living thing crosses his path, god knows what he might do regardless if they're innocent or not.

"Y/N!" He ran straight to their bedroom. What he saw blurred his sense of reality. He can't even fathom what animal did this.

No. . . it's not a work of any animal. He's been around to all types of violence to decipher who did this. Fuck! This can't be happening.

Overwhelmed by the surge of fear, his mind alluded him under the illusion that Y/N could be hiding somewhere in the house. He searches the whole place.

Every room, even ones that don’t make sense— basement, pantry, closet, attic— are thrown open haphazardly in search of you. Each passing room turning out to be empty is taking more of his sanity.

Reality dawned him. You're gone. Taken. Captured. Possibly turned

Before he realizes it, a lone tear cascaded on his cheek.

This man was trained to be a cop, fought zombies on his first day, held his gun at any threats, obeyed any command. He's a soldier who's first instinct is to fight back when he's kicked down, who never gives up when he loses and yet. . .

He was slumped on the floor. Weakened. Hopeless.

The word 'irony' is quite befitting for him. He, who has been fighting all his life, can't even get up at the mere prospect of his S/O's disappearance.

He loves you. He fucking loves you so much it puts the word itself into shame. He didn't show it enough though.

Now that you're gone, he began to realize certain things. How lonely you must be whenever he leaves. What emotions you're feeling when he can't response to your texts. Do you think he's unfaithful? Well, he can't blame you.

He's always choosing work over you and often going behind your back to accomplish simple missions when he's supposed to be with you at night. It's considered as cheating, isn't it?

He gnawed his lip, head starting to clear but the agony stayed. No, he can't be swayed by his emotions like this. If he can accomplish the most impossible missions why can't he do the same with you?

He'll find you.

Once he does, there's nothing on Earth that'll stop him from raining hell on your captors.

©OTAKUWORKS | 2023

[fadedncity]

(blood)thirst (teaser)

wc: 1.6k (teaser)

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

cw: supernatural!au, werewolf(lycan)!jeno, vampire!reader, natural enemies to lovers/forbidden love type of situation, injuries, blood, full fic tags: smut, angst, mention of death and family loss, flirting, sexual tension, teasing, pet names, oral sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, way more plot than i expected, plus more

a/n: hey yall so i finished this fic a while ago and it’s just been sitting in my drafts and then i was kinda unsure whether i wanted to post it but i still might. so lmk what you think!

full fic out now

TUESDAY [3:31 AM]

Rain pours in sheets, pelting against your skin. Your footsteps are silent as you sprint through the underbrush, hot on the heels of the Lycan ahead of you.

Even with his head start, it took you no time to catch up to the him. Your pace matched his as you zeroed in on his steady breathing and rhythmic drum of his footfalls. Lycans are fast, and he hadn't even shifted forms yet. But still, you had no trouble keeping up with him.

All the while you closely trail the Lycan, you're cautious of your surroundings, keeping your ears peeled for any sign of a presence accompanying you both in these woods.

Just as you were about to fall in line with him, an unexpected sound sliced through the night—a whistle, followed by the unmistakable twang of a bowstring.

An arrow whizzed past your head, embedding itself in a tree trunk to your left. Stopping in your tracks, you tilt your head, seeing sparks and smoke emitting from the arrowhead now embedded into the old pine tree. But you aren't given any more time to investigate as you're tackled to the ground by the Lycan.

Before you could push him off, his body shields you from the explosion of blinding light so bright you could've sworn it was day for a split second.

He just saved you.

"Are you okay?" Jeno asks, rain dripping from the ends of his hair as he stands from the dirt.

"Yeah," you nod, hesitantly taking the hand he offers. "Thanks," you say, looking at the tree bark melting off the trunk.

The humans have UV explosives. Great.

Both you and Jeno hear the sound of cars approaching from the nearby road and take off running again. Without a word, you plunge deeper into the forest, your movements synchronized with Jeno's by necessity.

"How did they even find us?" Jeno asks, looking over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the rain.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."

The hunters were relentless, their shouts echoing in the distance, along with the pounding of their boots. You moved swiftly, navigating the maze of branches and roots with an ease born from decades of practice. The forest seemed to close in around you, the trees pressing in like silent sentinels bearing witness to your flight.

Then shots start firing off, the sharp cracks of bullets cutting through the air. It sounds like they were coming from every direction, the rain making it harder for both you and Jeno to locate where the hunters are.

A bullet soars past you and stops whistling in your ears when it hits flesh, tearing through skin and muscle. Jeno beside you roars out in pain and begins to slow down as the metallic taste of blood enters the air around you. You shoot him a look of concern over your shoulder.

"I'll be fine," he says. But when you see his hand pressed to his shoulder, blood seeping from an injury that should've already started healing, you know he's far from okay. "We need to get out of these woods," Jeno winces as he applies pressure to the gunshot wound.

"I know a place not too far from here," you tell him.

[6:37 AM]

The moon's silver glow was waning, giving way to the first light of dawn. The storm had passed, leaving the forest dank and muddy. Urgency rose as you were closing in on daybreak. You and Jeno raced through the forest, the scent of his blood and sweat mingling in the damp morning air.

Jeno's breath was labored, each step accompanied by a pained grunt as he pushed himself forward. The wound on his shoulder, though not fatal, was slowing him down.

"The sun's gonna be up soon," Jeno pants, his voice weary.

"I know," you raise your eyes to the sky, "But we're almost there."

As you ascend the mountain, you spot the entrance behind a thick curtain of ivy and moss. The camouflaged door was almost invisible against the rocky face.

The two of you approach the fortified door. But not before you start to feel the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles all over your body, a warning of the daylight's deadly approach.

The air grows warmer with the first rays of sunlight piercing through the treetops, casting long shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the ground, leaving you exposed. You scream out in pain just before you can reach the door, feeling the severe burns blistering across your body under the sun's relentless gaze.

Without hesitation, Jeno quickly removes his jacket and throws it around you, shielding you as best as he can from the searing sunlight.

You reach the door with trembling hands and enter the security code to unlock it. You hear the mechanism click and attempt to push the door open, but it remains stubbornly shut. The hinges, unused for so long, now rusted, obstruct your entry.

"It's stuck," panic edges your voice.

Using his good shoulder, Jeno presses his weight into the door, helping you push it open. The thick metal gives way with a heavy creak, welcoming you inside. The moment you both are through, Jeno slams the door shut behind him, enveloping you in the safety of darkness.

The flickering emergency lights cast long shadows across the walls, the only source of illumination along the steps down to the bunker. You can hear the sounds of the forest growing distant, muted, and distorted through the layers of earth and stone as you descend further down.

With the adrenaline from the chase already simmered down, the reality of your situation sets in. Here you are, a vampire, with Jeno, a lycan, forced into hiding together by humans hunting you both. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words only filled by the sounds of Jeno's steps behind you.

Your burns are already beginning to heal now that you're out of the sunlight. The cool, dim interior of the bunker feels like a sanctuary, the pain in your skin subsiding by the time you lead Jeno into a high-ceiling room.

"Thanks, again," you break the silence, returning his jacket. Even in the shadows, you can see Jeno's eyes examining your burns. "I'll heal," you assure him. "You, on the other hand, aren't for some reason."

"I'm fine," Jeno lies.

"You're not. You're still bleeding out. I can smell it."

Jeno stays silent, knowing there's no use in arguing with you.

"I'll go see if I can find the generator and a med kit or something," you say.

The underground facility is large enough to house an entire clan and well-equipped for emergencies. Or at least it had been once. The walls, thick and impenetrable, provide a sense of security, but the darkness within was oppressive, the silence deafening.

You move through the narrow corridors, blindly navigating yourself through the place. The emergency lights give off a faint glow, barely enough to see by. The bunker has an air of abandonment from years of sitting unused here. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and dust motes danced in the faint light.

You quickly locate the electrical room and, after a few tries, manage to get the generator running. The lights flicker on, and the air kicked on, ventilating the compound. As you make your way back down the corridor, you pass the uniform lockers, and just with your luck, you find a med kit sitting at the bottom of the cubby. You grab it and hurry back to where Jeno's waiting.

You find Jeno right where you left him; leaning against the wall, face pale and drawn, sweat glistening on his brow, damp clothes clinging to his defined muscles. From where he stands, the light casts deep shadows across his face, highlighting the strain etched into his features.

"Sit," you say, opening the case of medical supplies on the table.

"I can do it myself," Jeno mutters, though his voice lacks conviction as he weakly pushes himself away from the wall.

"You look like you can barely stand on your own. Just let me patch you up so you can at least stop bleeding all over the place," your words are punctuated by the snap of latex gloves you slip on.

Jeno has no energy to protest. He drops his jacket onto a chair and peels off his shirt, sitting on the table in front of you.

You don't have much time to ogle over the Lycan's chiseled physique as your eyes are drawn to the skin turning black and blue around the bullet's entry point. In all your years of existence, you've seen some pretty bad shit. But even this sight—Jeno's bloodied and seemingly infected shoulder, is enough to make even you wince.

"There's no exit, which is probably why you're not healing. Whatever specialized bullet hit you is still in there," you observe, examining the injury closely.

"Great," Jeno groans, throwing his head back. "Think you can get it out?"

"Sure, but it's not gonna be fun," you tell him.

"Let's just get it over with."

a/n: please lmk what you think! if i do post the full fic it is 11k so be weary 😭 thank you for reading! <33 feedback is appreciated!!

[freyito]

ᴅᴏɢᴘɪʟᴇ

✭ pairing(s): clive rosfield x gn reader

✩ inspo: i think he really just needs a nap.

✩ in which: you two (three) get caught in a rainstorm at your weariest.

✧ a/n: i really wanna write sooooo much for ffxvi but im like only halfway i think... so i shall stick to who i know. ALSO this is 100% NOT based off that one scene cause actually i didnt even know there was That One Scene UNTIL I WAS LOOKING FOR PICTURES FOR HEADERS. sigh. also the logic might not make sense bear with me guys i wrote this with a killer stress induced headache

✦ taglist: @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, idk you guys get nakey for a bit, just fluff tho, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.7k

What a wonderful day it had been, the sun shining up high in its loft, smiling down at those of the Hideaway. You were sure it was, at least. You hadn’t seen a cloudy day plague the Hideaway, despite the many metaphorical ones. How you wished you were back there, lounging in your own room, huddled up under your nice and warm, dry, blankets. Instead, you were caught in a rainstorm in Rosaria, drops pelting you and your cloth, clinging to your body and making you all the more colder. It had started raining only after you had finished sloshing about in the swamps, putting a damper on your mood.

Ahead of you, Clive and Torgal were walking, seemingly unscathed by the rain, save for Clive blocking the rain from his eyes. You’re just a little jealous that he seems to be having it easier than you, undeterred by the circumstances. How foolish of you to believe it would be a nice little date between the two of you. When the storm started, he hadn’t even so much as looked your way to check if you were alright, no doubt too focused on the mission’s objective. He had a habit of that, getting too caught up in his work and ignoring the world around him. Aside from his dog.

Every so often, as you stumble several feet behind the two, shivering in your clothes, Clive reaches a hand out and pets Torgal, sparing the pup a few scratches behind the ears. You aren’t jealous of the dog, not at all. Surely you aren’t? You get it, the bond between the two. But there’s no way Clive had just up and forgotten about you, even with all your complaining. Maybe he got his best thinking done in the rain…? If you call out, perhaps he will spare you a quick glance at the very least.

As you open your mouth to yell, a  lightning bolt strikes down particularly close to the two of you, causing you to yelp. You quite liked storms, in the comfort of your own bed, not when it was way too close. Clive finally spins around, casting a worried gaze towards you. You must look horrible right now, you realize. Your clothes soaked through, hair sticking to your face. Suddenly you find yourself shying away from his gaze, turning your head, you allow the rain to pelt your cheek.

“I think we should–” He calls out to you, but his voice is lost amidst the storm. Has Rosaria ever had such bad weather like this? Finally, finally, he has the right mind to backtrack and step towards you. “I think we should find some place to stay while the storm dies down.”

You two were too far from Martha’s Rest, and the next village over had already been reaped of all life. As well as it would be to stay there, it felt wrong to simply barge in. It was if you were defiling graves. Besides that, it was also too far. You weren’t familiar with Rosaria at all, so all you could do is look at Clive with a hopeless gaze. 

The man feels as if he’d been pierced through the heart. You were akin to a soggy cat in his eyes, one he happily loved. With a sigh, he looks around. The winds had picked up, making the rain harder to see through. There were enough abandoned builds somewhere off the path that would at most stand tall for the next couple of hours. Ones that would hopefully not be struck by lightning. Well, it’s another little adventure, he supposes. With a huff, he nods towards the right of the path, and starts walking, Torgal eager to follow behind him.

The only problem with that is the fact he’s walking right back out to the swamp. Farbeit for you to feel so spoiled and posh, but you would rather stand still and weather the storm than walk back through the swamps with the ludicrous amount of water in your boots. You were cold as it is, might as well freeze to death then endure it any longer.

Clive looks back at you when he can’t hear your footsteps, and all you can do is pout. He doesn’t question it or call out, and instead makes his way back to you. Torgal looks back and waits patiently, as the man, without words, leans down and sweeps one arm underneath the back of your knees, the other holding you by your back. You aren’t unused to such things, he isn’t afraid to pamper you and shower you with the royalty treatment. Not that you were against this, either.

With a grunt of effort, he hauls you off and begins trekking through the swamp. Founder, he is warm. So very warm. Despite the rain that had showered his attire and soaked his hair, his warmth seeps through. You can’t help but nuzzle close, wrapping your arms around his neck. If you two were to sink into the swamp, at least you’d do so within your beloved Lord Rosfield’s arms, content in warming yourself with what you'd only assume is either the Phoenix’s or Ifrit’s blessing. 

While you busied yourself with fantasies and the like, Clive had found suitable shelter. A rundown shack that had a few planks that weren’t rotting. It wasn’t as warm as Clive was, but it was dry enough. Gently, he sets you down on your feet with another grunt, and you wince as your boots squish the minute they hit the floor. It is almost painful to part with Clive, suddenly aware of the bite the rain had. You can’t help but shiver again, plucking at your soaked tunic and pulling it away from your skin. It allows you a moment of respite for a second, though the cold still lingers. When you let go, it sogs and sticks to your skin once more. Needless to say, it felt very unpleasant.

“Come here,” Clive urges gently, beckoning you over with his hand. Of course, you won’t deny him. A flicker of fire bursts from the palm of his hand, before calming into a small orb, producing a soft light, and an even gentler warmth. While it isn’t enough, it’s certainly better. “Does this work?”

You purse your lips, like this is something you need to ponder. It sure soothes the ache beneath your skin, and as much as you’d love to rid yourself of your clothes at any chance to feel warmer, suddenly you're so very shy. But taking them off would be for the best…

“Yes, but…” You look away from him for a second, before shuffling closer. “I still feel so cold…”

You bat your eyelashes up at him in an innocent and teasing way, and you watch his resolve waver so easily. Well, that was an over-exaggeration. Of course he’d give you what you wanted. You wouldn’t even need to ask. But all this rain has you acting a little dramatic, and it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?

“Well, that won’t do,” He smiles softly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close. “All better?”

Certainly. Perhaps not all better, with that odd gnawing sense of embarrassment that lingers. You both know that it would be for the best to strip, but why not enjoy this oddly romantic moment for just another second?

Wordlessly, Clive leans in and presses a warm kiss to your temple. You feel your knees weaken for a moment, before you clear your throat. The time for theatrics is over, you surmise. Clive gets the hint, pulling away reluctantly and turning away to afford you what little privacy he could. 

He starts a fire while you strip, the little firelight turning into a wonderful source of mending when treated with just enough kindling. You have seen Clive bare before, of course, and vice versa. Yet you can't help the embarrassment and fluster that follows when you turn to the man in your smallclothes. What a relief it was that they were dry enough. You huddle up near the fire while you give Clive the same courtesy he gave you, head down, mind occupied by the flames. When he joins you by the fire, he is left in his smallclothes too. You can't help but thank the Founder for the fact that you two can still be decent. In a way, at least.

As much as you had seen, for all that Clive had gone against, suddenly being in close proximity with your loved one was cause to fluster. While you two sat next to each other, you were quiet, the only sound breaking the silence was the crackling of fire and Torgal’s shifting as he found a comfortable position to lay, all four paws in the air. You can’t help but snicker softly, the way the wolf worms around in such a silly way, perfectly content with the conditions of the rundown shack.

While you and Clive wait for your clothes to dry, bashfully looking away from each other when you so much as brush against each other, shuffling only a centimeter away. You, inevitably, would come right back, too attached to the warmth he provided, and, well, too attached to your partner regardless.

You two sit there for hours, waiting as your clothes dried. The storm showed no sign of relenting, unfortunately for the two of you. Well, more unfortunate for Clive. You were happy to hoard the man to yourself, essentially. Even if you were drenched, or near naked sitting by the fire. The man had a habit of making himself too busy. And in doing so, the only time alone you got with him was when you were accompanying him somewhere. Otherwise, it was him meeting with a contact, or slicing his way through men, or monsters, or beasts. Of course, he put in so much effort when he came back to you, showering you with compliments, even sparing you a good night’s rest together. But by the morning, he was off making his plans again. Where he’d move next, this and that, it was all becoming a blur to you.

Even when your clothes had dried, finally affording you two some more decency. It had been however many excruciating hours as you two sat and prodded at your clothes over the fire. Furthermore, you were too exhausted, and it seemed like it would be another long while before the skies weren’t hurling down on you. You were warm enough, at least, and you could hold on for the rest of the night without the fire. Needless to say, there was no reason to stay up. In your eyes, at least.

Clive, however, was raring to go. He had the right mind not to leave while it was still raining, but that didn’t mean he sat still. While you cozied up next to Torgal, running your hand through his fur, Clive was pacing back and forth. Mumbling to himself about losing time, how he’s certain your targets have moved by now. It was important, of course, but you could see just how tired he truly was. In the dim light of the fire, his form was only slightly hunched, rather slack for how tense he usually was. His voice had a scratch to it, as if his throat was raw from using it. His feet dragged ever so slightly, and when he looked at you for a few seconds, his face just seemed oh so tired.

All of these were little details, of course. Ones you had never failed to notice, whether you were out on your excursions, or back at the Hideaway. He stressed himself out too much, bit off more than he could chew at once, and yet most of the time he didn’t even realize it. During or after the fact. Despite everyone else’s protests, Clive had always pushed past. Perhaps it was time to help Tarja tie the man down to his bed. Or do so when you two come back.

“Clive,” You call out softly, tilting your head up. “Come sit down, at least?”

He only responds with a huff, shaking his head as he continues pacing, mapping out what his next strategy was, and several other plans if one didn’t work.

“I think we should sleep.” You state firmly, gazing up at him.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea–”

“We’ve been up for quite some time, and the storm shows no signs of dying down,” You give him a gentle tug, urging him back. “Besides, you seem tired. So, we should sleep.”

Worry flashes across his face for a minute, biting his lip slightly as he thinks of a way to worm out of a healthy habit. “And if someone finds us? If we were caught unawares, what do you think would happen?”

“Who in their right mind would go searching through a swamp first thing after it rained? Soldier or not?”

Silence stretches between you two as Clive tries to figure out another way to avoid something as simple as sleep. While he had a good point, you were ready to lie and bluff your way into forcing the man to sleep. He looked so ragged, and at the moment, you were traveling light. The only way you could care for him was to, at the very least, force him to sleep. Even an hour would be fine, as long as he got some rest.

Finally, with a sigh of defeat, his body untenses. Oh, how it must be so hard for him to look out for himself every once in a while. He snuffs out the fire, kicking at the wood, making sure there was no trace of the flames left. You two stand still for a moment, allowing your vision to get used to the dark. Quietly, as if he was embarrassed, he shuffles to the spot you were, sitting down with a huff and a grunt as his armor clinks. Torgal eagerly cuddles up to him, wagging his tail happily. It seems the wolf was just as glad as you were that Clive had finally relented.

The man waves you over, and you don’t even allow your brain to process before you hurry over the short distance. You take a seat in his lap near immediately, shuffling back so you could press your head against his shoulder, looking up at him. He chuckles softly, shaking his head before wrapping his arms around your waist. Turning his head, he presses a kiss against your temple, lingering for another moment and smiling. Beneath you, Torgal readjusts, laying down across your lap. He’s a lot heavier than you expected, and yet you welcome the pup with eager arms. Or hands, in this case.

What a heavenly existence. Wrapped up in an outlaw's arms, with a big ol’ puppy in your lap. For a moment, you catch yourself thanking the heavens for the storm. Annoyed as you were, suddenly you couldn’t care less. Even as the chill settled within the shack after the fire was snuffed out, you still had perhaps the warmest man in existence there, and a wolf to boot. Both were happy with a little impromptu cuddle session.

While you were dwelling on your own perfect world, it seems Clive had finally fallen asleep. His chest rises and falls against your back steadily, paired with light snoring. For all his stubbornness, it only took him a couple of minutes to fall asleep. It’s a little endearing in its own way. Perhaps he fell asleep quickly because he really was too tired? Or maybe it was because of you. You’d stick to believing the latter. As much as you wanted to reach up and pet him now, you’d rather not disturb his sleep. Even if he fell asleep fast, he was a rather light sleeper. So, you do your best to settle, fingers buried within Torgal’s warm fur.

Shutting your eyes, the sound of the wind howling and the rain beating down wasn’t so fierce now. It was kind of calming, in a way. Paired with Clive’s breathing and warmth, and Torgal’s soft grunts and groans as he settles, as well. You run your hand down from his head to his torso slowly, a soothing motion that allowed your mind to calm down. Somewhere along the fifth pet, you stopped, the weight of your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 7 - Come Hell or High Water

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

Previous l Next

Masterlist

Summary: Nik knows everything. Steve now has to make the decision that most benefits you, his own agendas be damned. He'll stop at nothing to see to it that you are safely back in his arms.

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

CW: No use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove" and other pet names. Depictions of the Mafia lifestyle. Tense and high stake situations. Gun use. Knife use. Depictions of the aftermath of spousal abuse for reader - mentions of bruises, lacerations and blood. Alcohol use. Drugs administered in a medical setting.

WC: 5K

Steve stood there stunned in utter disbelief, so focused on everything coming apart at the seams that your father’s words were falling on deaf ears.

“Steve?” David asked, placing a hand to his shoulder, the touch grounding him, knocking him from his shocked daze.

His eyes focused momentarily before he abruptly shrugged out of his grasp and stormed off to his car, jumping into the driver’s seat and taking off with little regard for anyone in his path as your father yelled his name, unable to do anything to stop him.

His grip subconsciously tightened as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. The mere thought of losing you made his stomach churn. Not now. Not when he was so close to having you once more.

The skies opened as rain began to pelt the windshield, matching his somber mood replaying the evening as his worst fears swirled through his mind. His foot pressed harder on the pedal, driving fast and dangerously to the outskirts of the city, calling one of his best guys to put eyes on your house, just as he had done at Nik’s club weeks ago.

The streetlights began to dwindle, less and less frequently shining through his windshield when he had finally calmed down enough to phone Eddie.

“Make sure the house is secure. Meet me at the docks. I'm already headed there.” He barked out, not giving the other man time to give him a proper greeting.

“Steve, is everything o—”

“Just get it done, goddamnit!” He raised his voice, letting his emotions get the better of him. He knew Eddie would eventually pry but right now wasn’t the time for that conversation.

“On it, boss.” He stated before hanging up.

It was all happening too fast. Everything was so perfect and now it was going to hell.

His car came to a stop in front of an old warehouse that seemed deserted from the outside. Broken windows and a dilapidated exterior doing a very good job of hiding what went on inside.

“Goddamnit!” He screams out, slamming his fist against the steering wheel out of frustration before taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears, willing himself to hold it in and not allow his feelings to seep through to muddle his decision making. He has to stay focused, now more than ever. Your very life could depend on it.

He ran a hand through his hair, before opening the door and making his way to the side entrance of the building, scanning the perimeter and looking over his shoulder before taking the handle.

“Mr. Harrington.” One of his guards nods a greeting as he slid the door open.

“Hey, Johnny. Quiet night?” Asking, as he slipped down the corridor as the other man followed.

“Too quiet, if you ask me, boss.” That's what Steve was afraid of. “Damn police scanner hasn't even been buzzing.”

He stepped into a small office, rounding the desk before picking up a pack of smokes from the top drawer, taking one to light.

“Do me a favor. Start gathering the others, we're having a meeting as soon as Eddie gets here.” He states flatly, pulling the cigarette between his lips, his face masking the maelstrom of emotion still running through him.

Johnny nodded leaving Steve alone once more with only his thoughts. The worst place he could possibly be right now. He hoped to God his imagination was overreacting with all the possibilities of what could be happening with you at this very moment. He choked it down, keeping the rational part of his thinking in the forefront. Nik had to keep you alive but there were other ways that he could hurt the both of you.

He glanced at his watch, taking a heavy drag, blowing the smoke out through his nose. Almost ten hours before the gallery would open. It would be a very long night.

-

By the time Eddie rolled in, Steve had been pacing the floor and chain smoking to try to settle his nerves. His suit jacket had been discarded in the nearby chair with the sleeves of his starchy dress shirt rolled up his forearms.

“Steve?” he questioned, slipping in unnoticed letting his eyes worry over a distraught looking man as he came to stand in front of him.

“Go get them. We've got to move.” Spitting it out without looking at him, instead easing over to snuff the rest of his cigarette out, joining the ones that already littered the top of the desk. Eddie could tell Steve meant all business even if he wanted to question what was currently weighing on his mind. He was usually an open book with his old friend, only shutting himself off when there was truly something he was warring internally with.

When he returned, Johnny and six other men filed into the small space behind him.

Steve laid out their plans, too worried the location could be compromised with everything that had gone down earlier he wouldn't take any chances. Once they finished, the building would go up in flames.

Everything had been accounted for to the last minutia detail. Steve ALWAYS had a contingency plan.

They worked hard and long into the early morning hours and by the time the sun rose the building was smoldering in his rearview as he headed back home. Any evidence or ties to his operation would be ashes by the time the fire department arrived.

He needed rest and a hot shower to clear his mind, but sleeping was the last thing he would be able to do. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins with no sign of wearing off anytime soon.

A little over four hours until the gallery was set to open.

He avoided Eddie most of the morning, only making it more obvious that something else had clearly gone wrong.

When he stepped out of the shower and into his room, still clad in a towel around his waist Eddie was leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest sporting a scowl, visibly annoyed with being left out of the loop.

“What happened?” he questioned gruffly. “And no fucking bullshit avoidance this time.”

Steve released a heavy sigh, moving to pull some fresh clothes from his closet yet again ignoring his long-time friend before emerging and sitting on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t keep it to himself any longer.

“Nik knows. I'm not sure how much about the operations or plans but the bastard knows about…” He trailed off, staring straight ahead, the carpet suddenly more interesting than meeting the look on Eddie’s face.

“Dove?” The older man softly asked, almost too worried to hear the answer.

“We– I had to leave her there. Too many men. And—” He stopped himself when his voice broke slightly.

“Steve.”

“This is all my fault. If I hadn’t come back and gotten her involved I–”

“Hey man, as if there was any other choice.” Eddie grins and chuckles lowly, reminiscing the two of you. “You’ve loved her since you were twelve. No one was going to change your mind.”

Steve nods, taking in his words. He was right. You had always been his and always would be. There was nothing that would have changed that. When he finally saw you again it was as if no time had passed. You were still that beautiful, ethereal creature that had captured his heart so many years ago.

It wasn't the time to break down and give up. He was about to fight with everything he had to get to you and make sure you were back in his arms, where he knew you were safe. He told Eddie everything that had transpired as he finished dressing, finally pulling his shoulder holster over his black dress shirt.

“And if she's not at the gallery?” Eddie asked, already fully aware of the answer.

Steve takes a gun from his bedside table, checking to make sure it was fully loaded before placing it back in its rightful place, snug against his rib cage.

“Then may God have mercy on whoever gets in my way, because I won't.”

He holsters a matching weapon on his other side as he nods, sliding on his suit jacket.

“Let's go.”

_

There would be no driver today as Eddie jumped behind the wheel of the inconspicuous black Cadillac sedan. Steve slid into the passenger seat as they off to make their way over to the gallery. It was a quiet, tense ride, neither of them willing to break the silence.

Eddie knew when to press and when to keep his mouth shut, glancing over to Steve out of the corner of his eye every so often. The younger man’s gaze held steady out the window, watching the world go by so focused on the mission ahead that he hadn’t realized when they had made it within a block of the building until Eddie spoke up, breaking him from his trance.

When they drew nearer, he asked Eddie to park where they would be able to watch the front. Your usual security team wasn’t out front setting the first set of warning bells off in Steve’s head. Both men waited with bated breath.

When 9 AM came and went with no one there to open for the day, it only solidified what he already knew.

Abigail was also nowhere to be found which only meant one of two things. You had called her or something much sinister had befallen the both of you. Eddie could practically see the gears turning in Steve’s head as he glanced over to him.

“What's the play here, boss? We can't go to that house, guns blazing. It's suicide.” Eddie huffed, taking a drag of his smoke, eyes darting back to the entrance.

He wasn't about to sit on his ass and do nothing. There was always a plan, but he never intended for you to be there when the walls came crashing down. He couldn’t dwell, lest he start to spiral again. All intentions aside, he had at least accounted for this scenario as well.

“I've had Emilio watching the house. Andrew is stationed at the club. If we intend to go, we have to do it now. Nik left the house twenty minutes ago with a heavy security team and just pulled into the club.”

“Right.” Eddie said with a sigh but didn't move. “Steve, your judgment is clouded. You need to think about this.”

Steve's head tilted toward his old friend, with his mind already made up, shooting him a warning glare.

“Eddie, you can either drive the car or get the fuck out. I'm going over there either way. This isn’t up for negotiation.” He spoke firmly, with a commanding finality.

Resigned to his fate, the older man flicks the unfinished cigarette out of the cracked window, putting the car into drive. There was truly never a choice in the matter for him either. You are just as much family as Steve is.

“For the record, I think this is a bad idea, but you know I've got your back.” He sent a small smirk Steve's way as he pulled out into the busy city street. “Let's go get your girl.”

-

There were only two men outside the house when they pulled in, watching the car intently as they parked. Neither were overly large nor intimidating, roughly about the same size as them.

“Something doesn’t sit right with me, Steve.” Eddie spoke as he checked his piece for good measure and re-holstered it. Typically, the house was covered with security. This had the second set of warning bells going off. It smelled and looked very much like a trap but there was no alternative.

“Emillio is close by. If anything should happen to me or–” he cut himself off momentarily, swallowing around the lump in his throat, unable to even speak it into existence. “Or God forbid–”

“Got it boss.” Eddie states with a nod, unwilling to let him finish the sentence as they both exited the vehicle.

They were going to play the diplomatic card. If that didn't work, neither had any qualms of putting a bullet between their eyes if they were uncooperative.

Steve buttoned his suit and strolled up with a large, inviting smile. Eddie followed behind, one hand in his pocket on a small inconspicuous piece, calm but at the ready.

“Morning, gentlemen. Such a fine morning, isn’t it?” He asked, with a jovial tone to his voice.

The two silently exchange a small glance before the one closest to Steve spoke, unbuttoning his jacket to show that he was indeed armed, trying but failing to seem intimidating.

“Fuck off, Harrington.”

“Well, that's a shame. I was really hoping it wouldn't have to go this way.” He smirked, nodding slightly to Eddie as they both moved too quickly, giving the other men no time to register what had happened.

Steve pulled a switchblade, pushing the mouthy idiot up against the doorframe with the blade flush against his neck. At the same time, Eddie moved his side piece, aiming directly at the other's forehead, who tried to grab his own gun, but Eddie shook his head and held out his hand, palm up for him to turn it over.

“Now, that I have your attention—,” pressing the blade a fraction forward, enough to draw blood as the guy winced. “Here's how this is going to go. I know you two are the only ones out here. So, how many are inside?”

He huffs, cutting his eyes over Eddie, seemingly weighing his options.

“Don't look at them.” Steve spat. “Look at me. Play it cool and you might live today. Got it? Because I’m in no mood to fuck around. Now let’s try this again. How many inside?”

He grits his teeth and hisses out “fuck” as Steve presses further, blood trickling out and down his shirt collar.

“Okay, okay man. There's just one more inside by her bedroom door.” Steve reached into the guy's suit, pulling his weapon and backing up a step taking the knife away. He grabbed him, hauling him next to his buddy.

“Eddie, you got this?” he asked, opening the door and pushing it wide, looking inside then back to him.

“Yeap.” Nodding before Steve walked in quietly and quickly shuffled to the stairs. His gun was drawn, clearing each room, keeping his head on a swivel. No movement. Silence. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up, his body on high alert, ready for anything.

He took the stairs slowly, keeping the noise to a minimum cursing himself when one creaked under his foot. He remembered you had come from the right last night for dinner, as he slid next to the wall, craning his neck to peek around the corner.

One man stood in front of the door at the very end of the hall, seemingly bored. His head was down, looking at his phone as Steve crept forward with his gun aimed right at him before he whistled, gaining his attention.

Surprised, he dropped his phone and reached to draw his weapon.

“Don't.” Steve stated, continuing to make his way down the hall, halting the other man’s movements.

“Toss it over here and get against the wall.” He ordered, the guy complying without protest, Steve kicking his gun further down the hall.

“Look, just stay here. I don't really want to fucking kill anyone today if I don't have to.” The kid looked green, no more than 19 or 20 simply nodding in agreement, either too scared or nervous to speak.

“Good. Don't move.”

He skirted past him, pushing the door open as it squeaked on its hinges. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit room as he stepped forward. Something crunched beneath his shoe, as the mess began to come into view. The room was a disaster with broken mirrors, pictures hanging askew on the walls, while clothes and trinkets litter the carpeted floor.

His heart sank in his chest feeling as though time stopped when he spotted your motionless frame on the unkempt bed, as he rushed over.

You were curled into yourself, completely naked from the waist down. He reached over, turning on the bedside lamp, gasping when light fully illuminated the extent of the damage.

“Dove.” He whispered, his hand hovering, afraid to touch you. Your body was littered with abrasions and bruises, the sheets beneath you stained crimson. He crouched down, knees hitting the floor as trembling fingers gently moved the hair from your face, ever so lightly caressing your swollen, tear-stained cheek.

“Dove, please God, I'm so sorry.” He pleads, trying to coax you awake unsure if you were even breathing. “Please wake up.”

He felt the sting behind his eyes, before he felt the first tear fall. This was all his fault.

-

Fuzzy, grainy. It was like an old TV picking up no picture, only static. You could hear him beckoning to you faintly in the inky distance, calling your name. It's as if you were under water, everything muffled and too far away.

Images from the night before flashed behind your eyelids. Nik. Broken glass. Torn clothes. Fists. Rage. Blood.

“No, please.” You whimper hoarsely with a dry throat so parched it feels like sandpaper scraping across your vocal cords when you try to speak. His head immediately shoots up as your raspy voice cuts through.

A warm palm to your arm has your eyes blinking open, trying to push yourself away but your limbs are aching and sore making your movements slow and uncoordinated. Your vision is still blurred, a searing headache impeding your focus.

“No! No! Nik please stop!” You manage to squeak out.

“Dove! Dove, tesoro, it's me. It's— it's Steve!” He whispered, trying to comfort you, as tears streamed unabashedly down his face.

Dove. Tesoro. Dove. Tesoro. Those words swirled within your mind, clinging onto a hope that you weren't just imagining his presence.

You lifted your face, clarity finally kicks in when he presses his forehead to yours, a grounding, all-encompassing touch as the familiar scent of his cologne, the scent of him, filled your lungs.

“Steve?” You rasp, tongue feeling heavy and too big for your mouth as you begin to openly sob.

“It's me, it's me.” He winds his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, being mindful not to be too hard but you still wince all the same as you grip the front of his shirt, clinging onto him, afraid he might disappear at any moment.

There were too many bruises to count, as he looked back down to you, suddenly seeming all too small and fragile in his arms. He should have taken you with him last night. He shouldn't have let this happen.

“Dove, it's okay. I'm here. You're coming home with me.” He said, running a hand through your hair, careful not to snag on any tangles, rubbing your back lightly with the other.

“He— he'll kill us.” Crying out as another sob racked your feeble body, your chest heaving as you released a shaky breath. “You shouldn't be here!”

“No, baby. It's okay.” He began to look around the room, for some clothes or at least a blanket to cover you. Time wasn't on your side, you both now had to move quickly.

“Dove, listen to me.” He pried you away from his chest, coaxing you to look up at him with a palm to your cheek. You focus on his eyes, glossy with tears but comforting, nonetheless. Safety found within the shards of green and gold, reminding you of the warmth of sunshine and summer days.

“I've got to get you something to wear. Stay here, I'll be right back.” He directs as you nod wearily and reluctantly let go of his shirt as your eyes drift down to your bare legs. Tears fall silently at the state he had left you in, suddenly all too aware what you must look like as you try to cover yourself with the sheet.

He's up in a flash, tossing open drawers and rummaging through them at a breakneck speed, finding a pair of silk pajama bottoms that would suffice. His focus then turns to your closet, disappearing a few moments before coming back into view with a pair of sneakers in tow.

“Baby, can you sit up for me?” Asking as he stands before you once more. Again, you nod, knowing you have no other choice. He helps you to a sitting position, soft tissue and sinew stretch and groan, feeling as if your body is being torn apart all over again.

He gently helps to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, immediately filled with heartache followed by blinding rage. Your inner thighs matched the rest of your body. Black and purple splotches paint your skin, stained and smeared with that same crimson sheen as the sheets. His hands ball the silky fabric tightly in his fists as the realization of what had befallen you comes to light. Nik was an even bigger monster than he truly imagined.

He conceals the pure animalistic fury from you, while inside he’s warring with the fact that he would love nothing more than to track down your husband at this very moment to completely obliterate him.

You stand on unsteady legs, fingers digging into his shoulders for support as you groan, your body continuing to protest your movements.

“That’s it baby, you got this.” He murmurs softly, as the garment slides easily up your calves and thighs, securing at the waist before you ease back down to the bed.

One at a time, he grips your ankles helping you slide the sneakers onto your feet.

“Ready?” He asks, winding his arm around your back, soft lips against your temple once he rises with you, stating it more for himself rather than asking.

“We're going to walk out of here, one step at a time.” He instructs, holding his gun in one hand, the other securely around your waist, assisting you slowly out of the room.

The guard was still exactly where Steve had told him to stay. When the young man saw the state you were in, he looked away, suddenly remorseful. Steve chose to ignore him altogether, too focused on getting you out of hell and on the way home, exactly where you belong.

The stairs were tricky, but you willed your body to move, with him beside you the entire way.

“Almost there baby, a few more steps.” He praised, as his eyes finally caught Eddie's momentarily through the open door. He still had his gun trained on the two bozos, trying not to look as unnerved as he felt when his gaze landed on you.

When you reached the door, Steve bent, pressing his arm behind your knees and hoisting you up into his arms, insistent on carrying you the rest of the way to the car.

Eddie was already there, back door open and waiting as he sat you down in the seat and quickly shuffled to the other side.

Steve slid in close, as you leaned over, your body squeezing in as close as possible into his. You were so tired, you just wanted to sleep, hands clutching onto him with all the strength you had left.

Nothing was said until Eddie finally sighed in relief as the car veered back on the main road, checking to make sure they hadn't been followed. It seemed all was in the clear as his eyes met Steve's through the rearview, blood boiling just as much at this point. A silent understanding passed between them. Nik wouldn’t go unpunished for what he’s done.

Steve spoke in rapid Italian, so you wouldn't understand the hushed conversation as you were resting with your head now in his lap, cradled tightly to him.

“Call the doctor as soon as we get back. No one goes in or out of the house except the two of us. I need two guards at every entrance and two at the main gate.” He was preparing for retaliation, surely to come sooner rather than later.

Eddie nods, the speed creeping up to get there as swiftly as possible.

“I'll call her father once I know she's okay.” Looking back down at you, smoothing his knuckles across your cheek, closing his eyes to once again check his emotions.

You were in and out of consciousness the rest of the ride, barely rousing when they moved you into the house and into Steve's bedroom.

The doctor had brought along a nurse that helped to clean and bandage your wounds, giving you enough morphine to kill the pain and help you sleep comfortably, changing you into a soft, cotton nightgown.

No broken bones, but he was worried about internal bleeding, especially with the size of the contusion on your lower back. An ultrasound later that morning laid those fears to rest.

They gave you enough medicine to keep you sedated for the rest of the night and probably most of the next day. It was a dreamless, peaceful sleep that your waking mind would be grateful for.

-

Eddie found Steve in the office once everyone had left and you were sound asleep, nursing a strong drink in front of the fireplace.

His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes. He looked beyond tired and forlorn.

“When's the last time you slept? What's it been 48 hours now?” He asked, taking a seat in the old leather chair beside him, creaking slightly with his added weight.

“Something like that.” He mumbled, bringing the glass back to his lips. “I'll go soon. I had a few loose ends to tie up.”

They sat in comfortable silence a few more minutes before Eddie spoke up again, something scratching at the back of his mind, heavy with the day's events.

“Steve, didn't it seem a little too easy? I mean, we just waltz in there and leave with her? After everything that had gone down the night before. Something feels off.” He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the thoughts.

Steve hasn't said anything but had similar reflections. It almost seemed intentional. Three guards on the entire complex, giving up with little resistance other than a smart-ass remark. It WAS too easy.

He rubbed his brow, replaying everything from the last day and a half and how everything had gone to hell in just a few short hours.

“I've been thinking about that. About a lot of things actually.” He heaved a sigh, setting his empty glass down with a resounding thud. “I think there was someone we didn't account for, but we'll worry about that tomorrow.”

He didn't say anything further, easing out of his seat and stretching his tired and achy limbs, exhaustion beginning to finally wear him down. Taking his leave, he bid goodnight to his longtime friend and confidant, knowing Eddie liked to keep the graveyard hours the house would be under a safe watch until the wee hours of the morning.

His legs felt like chunks of lead as he slowly crept up the stairs, heavy footfalls echoing down the corridor was the only sound throughout the otherwise quiet house.

Pausing in front of his bedroom door, he took a deep breath. It was the first night he'd be able to sleep beside you and not worry about you leaving before the sun rose, only wishing it were under much better circumstances but also thankful you were finally here with him.

You were still there under the comforter and sheets sleeping peacefully, at some point turning on your side facing the door. The light from the hall illuminated your face when he walked in, causing you to slightly wince, as he quickly shut it behind him trying not to disturb you.

The bed was calling to him, but he knew he needed to shower first. The allure of you pressed in beside him was almost too much as he made himself walk into the ensuite bathroom, promptly striping down and hopping into the shower.

He quickly washed away any remnants of the day, grabbing a fresh towel patting himself dry. No bedtime routine to be had tonight, just an underlying urgency to get to you. He ran the towel through his hair, gathering those few remaining droplets leaving it damp instead of dripping.

Cutting off the light, he padded from the tiled bathroom to the plush carpeting, finding you exactly as he had when he first walked in.

He lifted the edges of the covers and slid in behind you, moving slowly to ease his movements. You stirred only slightly when his chest met your back.

Being mindful, he had memorized where the worst of the injuries were, wrapping his arm around your waist, laying his head down so you were sharing a pillow.

He pressed his face close, breathing you in, grounding himself there. You were here. You were safe.

“I thought—,” his voice came out as a broken whisper into the dark. “I thought I'd fucking lost you.”

He knew you were asleep, but he needed to get the words out.

“I swear to you, as long as I have breath, I won't let anything happen to you, EVER again. I love you, tesoro mio.” He presses a kiss to the back of your head, not realizing when his own tears began to fall and dampen your hair. “I'll kill him for this. He'll never hurt you again.”

He held you tightly, worrying you would somehow simply disappear. Whatever tomorrow may bring, you will face it together. Sleep would find him easily, dragging him under with no resistance but not without his parting words whispered in your ear.

“Please forgive me for the sins that I have not yet committed, for they will be done in honor of your name.”

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