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dabisbratz · 1 year

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PENITENCE — leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: ~5.3k

warning: sub bottom reader, thigh fucking, spit, standing doggy style, dirty talk, leon’s weak pullout game x2, mixed praise/degradation, oral, choking, sexualizing las plagas, breeding mentions, sir kink, finger hooking, drool, infected leon is a lil mean, dumbification, accidental creampie

a/n: got a loooot of requests for a sequel to this!! so here it is! i hope you enjoy! ૮꒰ ´͈ ˙̫ `͈ Ꮚ꒱ა this fic had a mind of its own!! didn get to write leon as feral as i wanted to but… that’s okay!

You’ve never been shot before. Punched, sure, clean in the jaw in the midst of a training session. It caught you so off guard you nearly swallowed your teeth, and the blood gushing from your nose and coating the pearls tasted like rusty gunmetal. But it really didn’t hurt that bad, you felt more congested than anything.

You've never been shot before. Stabbed, sure, right through the hand until thick blood poured straight out your palm like nature’s greatest waterfall. It wasn’t as sharp as you’d think, not some sort of pinch akin to getting a piercing. No, it was panic first, your eyes trailed down to meet the handle of a hunting knife that cut clean through your palm. Then came the realization, Scorching heat beaming through your hand until it began to tremble. But hand wounds heal fast, you barely remember it.

You’ve never been shot before. Grazed, sure, blasted with the shells of a silver shotgun bullet so hard it seared your skin and left an open-mouthed gash. Your bullet ricocheted off an unknown surface, all because you’d taken it upon yourself to practice your aim alone. But it was just a graze, and so long ago the scar had begun to fade.

So the first time it happens, you’re taken for a loop.

Your legs burn, aching as you trudge beside Leon in his hasty motion up a particularly slippery hill. It’s like you’ve been walking in circles, deeper and deeper into the village but somehow passing the same bloodstained tree. For a man who was over a hundred fifty pounds of sheer force and willpower, he sure was light on his toes. Had there not been moisture from previous nights’ rain still lingering in the air you're sure it’d be easier— no mud to slip on, no pockets of rainwater that looked much more shallow than they actually were— but it lingers.

And it’s not just that, there’s an everlasting tremor in your thighs as you walk, you can barely take a few steps without your movements stuttering. You can’t excuse it as a pulled muscle, not when Leon’s been forcing you to sit back and observe. Though it’s partially his fault, you deduce, because you can see the growing pride in his stride as he listens to your trip over your own feet. Almost like it was a mission, fuck the rookie until he cries and let him walk for himself.

Asshole.

You can’t stop talking, not when your brain is working overtime and you have so many questions. Though it’s not entirely clear if he’s listening, Leon’s body subconsciously teeters in your direction, almost like he’s trying to collect your body heat. He’s certainly done that, that and much more. He’s stolen the air from your lungs with a heavy kiss, he’s collected the sounds of your moans and sealed them in a jar.

You spare him a heavy glance, watching the muscles in his back ripple as he marches through the thickening mud. You wish you’d gotten the chance to see him without it, to card your fingers through the strong fabric as he pulls his shirt over his head and balls it up in his veiny fists. To watch his hair fall, golden bundles framing his face and falling back into place like magic, nearly swept over his eye and so unabashedly Leon.

“Would you stop staring at me?” There’s a playful edge to his voice, teetering around the edges as he blows a bullet straight through the frail neck of an infected resident. You’re too focused on the nape of his neck to watch it explode, an amalgamation of blood and arteries and fat splattering onto the ground and surrounding houses. “I mean, if you want a picture all you have to do is ask.”

You can tell he’s somehow watching you through the corner of his gunmetal gray eyes, with your blatant staring, but he doesn’t seem to have much on the tip of his tongue besides a few smartmouthed remarks. Maybe he has eyes behind his full head of hair.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” You purse your lips, tightening your grip around the flashlight paving the way forward.

Truthfully, you’d underestimated just how much cardio and legwork it took to navigate this village— sure, the implication of missing hikers in the area meant there’d be a trail to hike, but in your head it was much more akin to training. Controlled, steep hills that didn’t continue on as far as the eye can see, an obstacle course that had an obtainable goal— it feels like you’re wandering aimlessly.

But Leon’s with you, so surely that can’t be right.

You wonder how much preparation and time he took into this, how many nights of sparring turned into considering your presence under the same blanket of stars, how often he made things with you in mind. Even if it’s just for a mission.

Quite frankly, it was all the time. Thinking of you put an indescribable amount of weight on his chest, it capsized his shoulders, so feathery light, and yet somehow still managed to put strain on his posture. He was always so laid back, cracking jokes and likable by definition. Yet there he stood, second guessing his abilities in protecting you, having you, wooing you. Ashley is his priority. . . but you’re his partner.

And he wants more.

“Leon?” Apprehension builds in your voice, Leon’s steady stride suddenly broken as he looks down at his hands. You bump right into him, colliding face-first into his body. His back is just as sturdy as it looks, barely jolting as you peek around to look at his handsome face.

His veins are turning black, coiling up his wrists from his hands, inky black streaks that branch off up his forearm and disappear under his shirt. Even the thicker veins decorating his bicep— they’ve become an ugly charcoal that looks entirely too unnatural. Painful. As if leeches have burrowed themselves under his skin, the intrusion crawls further into his bloodstream as small, deep grunts escape from his lips.

You still have yet to ask what happened during your separation— after you ran. But, in a way, you’ve got your answer.

“You with me, Lee?” You search his face for something, anything, under the furrowed brows and clenched teeth. His jaw sets, characteristically rigid, which is a generous start. Somewhere beneath the icy blue of his eyes you see recognition, like he’s not exactly looking at you, but he knows you’re there. Lucid enough. Good.

But without Leon leaving a path of bodies for you to walk over, you have to take over and pave the way.

“I’m gonna take your gun, okay?” It’s rhetorical, whether he likes it or not, because he took your gun away before you truly had the chance to use it— and it’s not entirely like he’s in the position to be making demands. You wish you could laugh about it, let a boyish smile wiggle its way across your face, but without Leon there to laugh with you… there’s no point.

And, like most instances, you find yourself jumping into action before you can think, dragging every pound of steel Leon has to offer through the village until you can find somewhere safe. It happens all too fast. One moment, you’re holding onto the pistol while wrapping an arm around Leon’s waist, blowing holes through the infected like you were made for it, watching their bodies topple to the ground in a lifeless display. Then. . .

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Your heart plummets into your stomach, you can’t help but think you’ve swallowed a bomb. Your blood is cold on your slick skin, flowing down your bicep like sort of fucked up waterfall. It’s thick and sticky, a rich shade of red that only seems to get darker and darker as it pours from your arm. You can’t help but call for your partner, tightening your grip on his waist. “Leon…”

Getting grazed is not the same.

There’s a similar burn, but this time it’s from the outside-in and back out again. Like you’ve been stung by a swarm bees, all at the same time, and in the same exact spot.

It happened so fast, threw you for a loop, the metal of an axe bounced your bullet right back at you, and landed right through your arm.

Your eyes widen, jittery as Leon parts his legs, planting his boots into the mud in a futile attempt at staying upright. Selfless as ever, the blond just can’t seem to sit still when he knows someone he cares about is in danger.

His dusty pink lips are curled into a snarl, one of his veiny hands clasped over your own; fisting at the bunched up fabric by his waist. His eyes, previously clenched shut, are no longer a brilliant shade of blue— they’ve turned yellow, bright like a citrusy candy. His face, still as handsome as before, is adorned with streaky, black veins that cluster near his left cheekbone and disappear into his cheeks. Instinctively, you raise your arm to swipe away his hair in a half-assed attempt at consolation, but the movement burns before you can put away your pistol.

Leon’s eyes flicker to your bicep, watching the red ooze from the inflamed bullet-shaped hole. His gaze darkens, something you can’t quite grasp flashing in his eyes as he takes the gun from your hand and pushes you behind him.

“Leon—”

“Move! Now!” His voice is much deeper than before— still buttery smooth, just dropping in octaves as he yells into the night air. You don’t have to be told twice, stumbling in the mud as he pushes you in the general direction of an abandoned house. In a perfect world you’d use your knife to help, but something tells you sticking around would just worsen the situation for everyone.

So you rush into the house, bursting through the creaky door as gunshots ring behind you. Almost as loud as the static in your ears, buzzing as you search for a closed off room.

The house is empty, fairly sized— equipped with a staircase that leads upstairs. Bedrooms, you presume, since there are only bathrooms and living spaces on the first floor. The floorboards whine and groan under your weight, tracking mud as you keep your hand clasped over your bicep. It probably won’t make much of a difference now, but the bleeding has subsided into thick clots, which momentarily lightens your mood.

You don’t have much on you, it’s best to travel light when you have places to be— heavy backpacks can weigh you down. But you do have a few bandages and travel-sized disinfectant wipes. You can only help Leon effectively if you help yourself first— you’re dead weight if you go back out there dipped in blood— so you get to work.

It’s hasty, messy, and unorganized, but you get it done. Your bicep is wrapped snug, with enough pressure to support your arm without cutting off any circulation. It’s the best you can do for now, with the panic and anxiety blooming in your throat. It burns like bile, attacking your senses until all you can think of is Leon. The look on his face, the sounds of his pained grunts, the veins darkening beneath his skin.

As if he’s heard you, your silent prayers for his presence in its entirety, he crashes through the door. It squeals on its hinges, slamming shut behind him as his heavy boots collide with the wooden floorboards. You can’t quite make out anything else, just the sound of his shoes as he walks through the hall, and into the bathroom.

Maybe it’s just a hunch, an inference, but there’s irritation floating between his steps. You can feel it radiating off him despite not exactly being near him. The sound of poorly running water emits from the small room, muffled through the door, along with a steadier stream of swears.

“Leon?” You ask, pushing yourself off the wooden diningroom chair with the support of your unwounded arm. Would it be best to give him some space? But that’s not really an option, not with what you witnessed. Not with that intrusion trying to take over his body. “I’m coming in.”

Nearly tripping over the red rug decorating the hallway between the bathroom and living spaces, you clumsily open the bathroom door. Just Leon— sitting on the wide ledge of the bathroom’s squat toilet, his gun discarded on the opposing mantel. You can’t see his face, not with his hair casting silky shadows along the expanse of it, but you can picture his tight lipped expression just fine.

The thought makes heat burst through your skin. Nowhere near as painful as a gunshot wound. This time it’s comforting and sweet, it makes your legs feel like jelly and your heart like jam.

“Ocupado,” He sounds rather proud of himself for that one, readjusting his spot on the ledge. The blond lifts his gaze, shades of blue overcasting the previous yellow hues that once clouded his vision. “How do you feel..Your arm..?”

You should be asking him that.

“I’m good,” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the strain of your shoulders dissipating into the air the longer you look at him. “You know me. Are you…okay?”

Perhaps ‘okay’ isn’t the word for it. You want to ask if he feels weird, if the deepening of his veins bothers him. What it felt like when he was rendered unconscious. When you felt it— tied to that damned cross— it wasn’t nearly as bad as Leon. In fact, it didn't hurt you at all. You didn’t even notice until the entirety of your arms were decorated in pure, black branches.

“Yeah,” He blinks, not once removing his gaze from the curl of your lips. Still so shiny and wet, soft as they curl with every vowel and syllable that leaves them. He swallows hard, audible as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Your eyes trace the small mole just below it, the way his throat bulges. “I’m okay. For the most part.”

He doesn’t seem entirely there, lifting himself up wordlessly until he’s crashing into you, his large, gloved hand finding a place around your neck as he pulls you into a kiss.

The bathroom isn’t an ideal place to do it, though you suppose you two don’t have a clean track record of kissing in the best places. He swallows the air from your lungs, deep and gentle as his lips melt into yours. He tastes just like he did a few hours, just slightly saltier. He tastes like you, you’re still heavy on his tongue and it seems he’s hooked on your flavor.

His tongue is silky, messy in your mouth as you try your hardest to absorb his heat. His mouth is so warm, so wet, and you can’t help but whimper when he pulls away. You want to chase it, that heat, so you can’t help yourself when you follow after his lips.

Oh.

Leon’s eyes— they’re red, and the impossibly dark streaks under his skin are somehow darker.

“Your—”

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” It leaves his lips before the both of you have time to process it. He’s much more surprised than you, pink roses blooming on the apples of his cheeks despite the clear obstruction of his body. You appreciate the honesty, clearing your throat to mask the laugh bubbling in your chest. Leon’s okay, and he’s not just saying it. “…Sorry.”

Leon’s red-eyed gaze is casted to the side, but even in his efforts to avoid looking at you, he can’t help himself. It’s cute, really, charming enough to have your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

“Then do it.”

Blue embers sparkle in his eyes, and suddenly you’re being pulled out the cramped bathroom. Whatever he’s infected with, it’s heightened his abilities, because his grip on your wrist feels just as strong as the rusty chains in the cathedral. He’s holding onto you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, an iron grip that feels more comfortable than painful. And through it all, he’s cautious of your injury.

It doesn’t stop him from slapping you against the wall, your back colliding with the old, peeling wallpaper with a loud thud.

“You’re sure—” You start, the words catching in your throat when Leon’s strong hands tear your shirt apart, straight through the middle. The cold air hits you instantly, sending shivers up your spine as you whine in protest. “I only have one shirt!”

“I have a jacket.” His answer is barely audible, as he’s too busy watching the rise and fall of your chest with hungry, predatory eyes. You’re looking at Leon, who has every feature of the man. . . But he feels different. He feels bigger, in every sense of the word, towering over you as his red eyes study you like a bloodthirsty shark.

Next are your pants, you take the liberty of unbuckling your utility belt, keeping your gaze on Leon as he watches your hands pull them down. A considerate patch of sticky wetness decorates the front of your boxers, darkening and dampening the fabric. Leon’s pink tongue slides over his equally pink lips, whatever restraint he’s using slowly slipping away. You expect him to follow suit, but his hands are on you and he’s guiding you down to your knees.

Your face nuzzles against the fabric of his pants, thick but nowhere near as thick as his cock, which has a prominent, twitching outline.Your mouth waters, saliva pooling between your lips as your eyes flutter shut and he presses your cheek against his dick, firm and rough. His hands are so big, cupping the back of your head as he releases a small, hushed groan.

Leon watches you unzip his pants with parted lips and a baited breath. You look so damn pretty, eyes glazed over within the matter of a few seconds and a stupid look in your eye the second you see his dick again. Like you’ve missed it, when it was only just a few hours ago when he was buried deep inside you. He lets you push his pants down to his ankles, your eyes roaming along the skin of his toned thighs, which black vines slowly creep down.

You press a pretty, openmouthed kiss against the head of his cock, watching precum bead at the tip and smear across your lips. Such a sweet boy, kissing his cock as a greeting.

“Goddamn, you’re so cute,” His grip travels down your face to the top of your neck, where your throat meets your jaw. Your gaze is forced upward, straight into Leon’s vermillion irises as he offers a small squeeze. “Just a little slut. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Mhm, yeah,” You pant against his skin, shimmying forward to grind your front against the leather of his boot. “For you— just for you, Sir.”

Yeah, you could get used to this. The girth of his cock, the vein that disappears beneath the pretty head of his dick, the way his balls weigh heavily against your chin. His pubes are a deeper shade of brown, slightly curly and enough that makes you want to bury your nose in it. He’s so sticky, slick and wet like he’s been thinking about this for a while. The thought of Leon gripping himself through his pants is just so hot, the way he’d buck up into his fist and imagine it’s you instead. The way he’d groan and moan into the air, chasing after some artificial tightness that could only simulate you. Your mouth, your hole.

“Think you can be a good boy for me?” You chase after his cock as he pulls it away, gripping it by the base with a gloved hand. You can only imagine how good the leather of his fingerless gloves feel against it. He coos at your attempts to follow along, meanly slapping the weight of his dick against your cheek until you’re messy with precum. “Hm? Yeah?”

You nod frantically, opening your mouth and covering your bottom row of teeth with your tongue. You can be good, you can be good for Leon.

Tears spring in your eyes the second he’s pushing into your mouth, groaning at the sound of your gags as his cock slides in and out, deeper and deeper without warning. He can’t help it, not when you’re drooling all over his pants and whining for it. Not when you’d look so cute hazy eyed and stained with tears as he fucks your throat. Not when your throat bulges around his cock, letting out wet squelches as you struggle to keep your eyes open and watch his hips snap against you.

“That’s it,” Leon sighs, shaky and content as he holds you in place. His good boy. “Just like that, you take it so—f-hucking—good.”

You lurch back, tears blurry in your eyes as you sputter and gag. His precum is salty and warm, coating your throat as you flutter your eyes and hold onto the swell of Leon’s strong, thick thighs. Heat ripples through your body in waves as a low growl rumbles in his throat, bouncing into your ears.

“Shh, I know, I know. Don’t run from me, let me in,” He coos, sliding his long cock from your mouth to watch a long trail of your spit thin out the further he pulls away. “It’s just too big for you, is that right? Hard to focus on anything when all you can think of is dick.”

You’re breathing heavily, panting loud as you slowly register the mess on your face, your chin. Your lips feel swollen, but your mouth feels empty. You must have a particularly dumb look on your face because it pulls a laugh out of the man in front of you, rich and hearty as he lifts you up with an authoritative hand around your throat.

“C’mere.” He mumbles, pulling you in to pepper messy kisses along your jaw. He’s more impulsive, you gather, with whatever’s coursing through his veins. Rougher too, with the way his hand tightens around your throat when he’s throwing commands at you. You don’t mind it, not at all. In fact, it’s made you all hazy, you feel like you’re traveling through a thick layer of fog as you nod along. You want to be good, to earn his praise.

Leon’s hands travel to your waist, dipping into the plush skin until your thighs are spread just far enough for his cock to fit between them. You’ve never felt so exposed, whining high in your throat no matter how pathetic it sounds, and pressing your body against his firm chest.

His cock feels as big as it looks, long and curved as he slides it between your thighs. You can feel every twitch and pulse, you’re sure he can feel you too— with how he’s grunting and groaning against your neck. He fucks into your thighs like he’s chasing after something, trying to satiate it. His grip is punishing, the pads of his fingertips digging into your skin until it hurts.

“I can’t,” You whine, shaking your head as you watch his cock disappear between your thighs. “S’not— I wanna—”

“You can,” Leon growls, making a low warning of a noise in his throat as he tuts in disapproval. It goes straight to your stomach, tingles shocking your body as you clench around nothing. “And you will.”

Instead of keeping you upright by the throat, Leon’s hands leave you to fend for yourself as he slides them down your supple skin, down every dip and curve and slope, until he’s playing with the leftover stickiness of your hole.

You’re certain there’s nowhere near as comfortable as Leon’s arms. They’re big and strong, plush and warm against your skin, and firm in your hand when he’s flexing. They keep you secure and safe, protected from whatever monstrosities are in this godforsaken place, you’re sure he’d hold you till you both fell asleep, and you’d be enveloped in his warmth.

He smells just as warm too, faintly of vanilla underneath all that sex and remnants of polluted air.

“Christ, you’re so… Warm around my fingers. Give it to me, baby, let me fuck you with my fingers.”

You love his warmth, it spreads across your body and travels down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, until he’s taking you apart with it. His fingers are so warm, so thick and perfect as they fuck into you. Even when you’re sloppy like this, sucking his fingers back in like you’d never wanted to be left empty again in the first place, working your hips back to chase after his knuckles. The warmth of his arms as he flips you around, pushes your weight into his own by the base of your neck, maneuvers you just right, keeps you open and vulnerable for him. All for him.

Yeah, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Hey, you with me?” It’s his turn to ask, and you wonder if he felt the same butterflies you did.

“Yeah, I’m,” You’re breathlessly spreading your legs and pulling yourself apart with the warmth of your palms to reveal the puffiness of your hole, fucked out and shiny from earlier’s abuse. Leon wonders how easy it’d be to slip back in, to inch his cock deeper and deeper inside as you flutter around him and keen with oversensitivity. “M’with you, Sir.”

“Atta boy,” The smile he flashes is all teeth, dangerous and sharp as his canines glint in the dim lighting. You have half the heart to be a bit scared, but it doesn’t mean much when he’s working you open when you’re already so sensitive. Your hips jitter, twitching both toward and away from his fingers as he presses against that same bundle of nerves from earlier— it’s too much. This time you really mean it, because the second he hits it, tears spring in your eyes and you’re fisting remnants of the peeling wallpaper like a lifeline. “Greedy little hole. Didn’t you just take me?”

“Ohh, oh, God! Leon,” He hums in acknowledgement, as if he’s actually listening to your mindless babbling, nodding with lidded eyes as he uses your hips to pull you down onto his fingers. He’s using you like some kind of toy, moving you with one hand as you sit there and take it. You’re melting into the wall, drool slipping through the seam of your lips and trailing down your exposed chest. “You— your fingers, feel so good.”

“I know, baby.”

The way you’re convulsing around his fingers is telling, crying and sobbing and squealing into the wallpaper while he angles your back down. His large palm presses into the small of your back, strong and firm as he pushes and pushes until you’re arching just right and exposed.

“Let me fuck you till I cum, be my toy,” You can barely hear him over your own sobs, shifting your weight between legs as you steady yourself. His cock slips in easy, smooth and wet and perfect. You missed this feeling the second it left, the fullness of his dick inside you. The curve of his long cock as it inches inside, the feeling of that one particular vein pulsing deep inside. “Gonna fuck you over and over. Yeah? Got that? Because you’re all mine.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” You gasp, every inhale making you sputter and choke on your tears. “Yes, Sir.”

If you weren’t crying before you surely are now, with the sharp thrusts Leon’s pistoning into your hole, loud and sloppy and squelching as he backs you up on his cock. It’s like he’s mounted you, shoving your face into the wall as he slams into you. In and out, in and out, in and out…With every slap of his balls against your thighs you whine, small pitiful sounds escaping your lips until your voice goes hoarse and all you can do is weakly claw at the wall.

But you’ve been good, save for a few whiny noises and indiscreet pouting, you’ve been so good. So Leon lets your uninjured hand wander, even guides it down to your front as he fucks you from behind so hard it feels like you’re going stupid. You can’t see him like this, but you’d bet there’s a feral look on his face. Pupils blown wide as his red eyes focus on the view of his cock disappearing inside you, his brain short circuiting as it repeats the same code over and over.

Breed, breed, breed.

“Wanna breed you,” He rasps, strong arms pulling you the second he’s pulling out. No matter what, you’re full of him. You’re full of him even as his cock slides away, a trail of precum connecting the two of you as it froths between your thighs and his balls. “Can I fuck my cum into your sloppy little hole? Hm?”

“Course, f’course,” It’s all out the window, every possible thought you’d ever had about how uncomfortable it could be to be…preoccupied while on a mission. Because you want it, you want to be full. You want him to give it to you, deeper and harder and messier and… More. “..Please..”

“Nice of you to say, but,” He groans high in his throat, voice tight and heavy as his hips grow sloppy and weak. Yet, his cock still feels so heavy in your hole, makes you feel like you’re ready to burst apart at the seams. Leon’s fingers pull at your cheeks, slipping in your mouth and pulling at the skin until your mouth is forced wide, your tongue slipping from your mouth as you drool and cry. “I wasn’t really asking. You’d let me cum wherever I wanted, wouldn’t you? It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re cute when you go dumb on my dick.”

You can’t do this.

You tried, really. You tried your hardest, held it for as long as you could. But you’re already there, almost screaming on his dick as you flutter and clamp down on it, light beaming in your stomach as your body grows sensitive and weak. You’re cumming. And Leon’s hand around your throat doesn’t do anything besides aid it, the way you gush and whine around his cock despite his insistent thrusts. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, and it feels so fucking good.

“Jesus fuck, you take that cock so well. Such a good boy, my pretty slut,” Leon pulls you into him, pressing his chest against your back as he sinks his teeth into the base of your neck. Not enough to draw blood, no, just enough to leave a Leon S. Kennedy sized bite mark along your skin. “Tell me you love this cock, pretty baby. I know you can.”

“I love— ohhh — love your cock, Sir. M’so full.” Your twitching doesn’t cease, instead egging him on as your pretty little hole sucks him in deeper, holding him like a vice. Warm and slick, he can’t help but moan into your neck as his balls tighten and he cums.

“That’s it,” You watch him pant through the corner of your eyes, weighed down by fatigue, sex, and the entirety of today's ordeals. But at least the richness of his veins are beginning to clear up, and his pretty, arctic blue eyes are starting to resurface. You smile around a hearty moan, feeling your insides flood with warmth as his eyes flutter shut and his body shudders. “I could really get used to this.”

It’s hard and fast, much too fast for him to have pulled out to shoot across your back— no, he’s partially shot a thick, creamy rope inside you. His veins pulse at the thought, satiated with the sight of your fucked-out hole drooling with his cum.

“Oh… Fuck.”

He’s hard again.

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howtofightwrite · 1 year

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What's gonna happen if someone gets shoot in the head? Will flesh and blood go all over the place, or will it be a small entry and exit, or will it be something else? Tryna write a zombie story rn and I'm not sure 😭

Usually, they die.

How much damage the head suffers will depend on what was fired. Specific cartridges result in different wound patterns, and if you have a forensic background, you may even be able to identify the bullet used based on the entrance and exit wound. Smaller handgun rounds are likely to result in less tissue disruption. Rifle rounds are more likely to cause serious structural damage, and shotgun shells (particularly buckshot) are likely to cause serious tissue disruption. But, there's another consideration, the more the decomposed the target, the more a round is likely to do. This one's honestly pretty hard to assess in generalities, because there are a lot of factors for decomposition.

This also leads into a far more difficult question, “what happens if you shoot a zombie in the head?” The answer might be, “nothing.”

So, there's two groups of zombies in popular fiction, and the answer to the above question hinges on which one you're examining. Zombies can either be infected with rabies or actual undead, and the latter are far more uncommon in modern pop culture.

A lot of popular zombies are, technically, alive, but cognitively functioning on a more animal level. In many cases, their symptoms are fairly similar to a sever rabies infection (though, the 28 Days Later series is one of the rare cases where the infection is, explicitly, a variant of rabies.) This also includes cases where the infection is from a parasite (many of the later Resident Evil games and of course The Last of Us are examples of this.) In these cases, destroying the brain stem (and, for that matter, destroying the brain) should be effective. The zombie is still propelled by using their nervous system. There's a bit of an exception in cases where the infection creates a second, parallel, nervous system in the victim, which can operate independently of the victim's original.

Living zombies became more popular in the 90s, and were extremely frequent in the mid-2000s. Most horror films that try to downplay the supernatural component, or look to play up the bio-hazardous nature of zombies, is likely to use some variant of these. (As mentioned earlier, a lot of these tend to behave like mutant strains of rabies. And, while it might sound like I'm being flippant here, rabies is a pretty terrifying virus.)

Living zombie apocalypses are, basically, impossible. There's the usual problem of asking how did the zombies actually get to critical mass? But even beyond that, eventually the infected would simply start dropping as their bodies decayed and the victims died. They'd still be a bio-hazard, but you wouldn't see waves of the undead pressing against the defenders' barricades.

If you want a much more detailed breakdown of the biology of various critters in pop culture (including a lot of zombies), Roanoke Gaming on YouTube is an excellent reference.

The other variety of zombie are far more rare in pop culture, and these are the actual revenants. Either they've been raised by some necromancer, or they're returning due to some other factor. Critically, these zombies are, truly, undead. Shooting them in the head might take it apart, but it's also quite likely that won't put them (back) down, as they're not actually using their original nervous system for anything meaningful. These kinds of zombies are far more threatening. In theory, things like extreme cold would cause further damage to these, but if the necromantic forces animating them don't care about the condition of the zombie, then having fingers or toes freeze off in cold weather, or setting them on fire, might not have the desired effects. You may need to resort to fully dismembering the corpses to get them to stop trying to kill you. (Note that these don't have to be, strictly, supernatural. The Dead Space series remains an excellent example of a non-magical zombie apocalypse of this variety, with some extremely “creative” uses of dead biomass.)

In the case of reanimated zombies, firearms are not a particularly great option for putting them down in general. The damage they inflict simply isn't relevant to destroying the undead. Firearms are designed to poke holes in people and get their body to spring a leak, but if something is already dead, that's probably not going to matter unless you're using the gun to deliver some other kind of payload.

-Starke

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#how to fight write #Starke answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #looking at gunshot wounds is soul destroying #zombies

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frownyalfred · 4 months

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Hey Res! Please ignore this ask if it's too troublesome or bothersome

I saw you had an guide for non-drikers writers that wanted to write about a character who drink. I was wondering if you could the same about guns?

I read synchronicity and I loved it how you used Jason's knowledge with guns to control the narrative and pacing. I don't know if you have actual technical knowledge on handguns (I think it's a no? But maybe you do?) But any tip is nice

Thank you a lot 🩷

Hi anon! This is such a fascinating question and I hope I can provide a somewhat plausible answer. I am familiar with some guns and have shot a few in my lifetime, but I am far from an expert.

Some things I think writers need to keep in mind while writing their firearm-related scenes. For clarity, I'm just going to call them guns below.

Are you thinking of a specific gun? Make sure you know its full name but ALSO make sure you know its nickname. Your character might think of it as "the Berretta" instead of its full name, etc.

What does your gun fire? Does it take shells, bullets, cartridges, etc? Shotguns, for example, don't fire bullets. That's a common mistake I see.

How do you reload said gun? Is it easy? What parts of the gun do you have to touch? Reloading a shotgun is MUCH different from reloading a handgun, for example.

Most guns get hot and release gunpowder residue when shot. They're LOUD. You can have several cascading things happen to a character who fires a gun or is near a gun when it fires: ringing ears, the smell of gunpowder, the hot feeling of the gun's muzzle, etc.

Even the best sharpshooters miss shots. IRL shooting is HARD, especially when moving. Different guns have different benefits to shooting style, stance, targets. Firing a handgun willy-nilly will rarely result in accurate shots, even if you dual wield (which is silly, this is SO hard).

Stance MATTERS. If you've ever seen Hannibal, there's a scene where Will talks about his choice of shooting stance with Beverly. They bicker over Isosceles and Weaver, which are two standard stances. One uses a triangle between your arms and the gun to brace for the kickback of the shot, while the other moves that brace to one side with a different grip. Will eventually chooses the latter stance because of a past shoulder injury. (GIF of Will struggling with his original isosceles stance)

If a gun isn't properly braced when fired, it will kick back and hit you. Sometimes in the face. Yes this has happened with me and a rifle. My first day shooting cans, I had a huge bruise on my face AND on my chest where the rifle butt kicked back.

If your gun uses bullets, there are different calibers. If you've ever watched Mythbusters, you can see why caliber matters -- it depends what or who you're shooting. Are you trying to penetrate armor? Are you sacrificing accuracy for power? Different guns use different calibers for numerous reasons, and guns can be altered to use other ammo as well.

With respect to discussing caliber while writing: It's all VERY complicated if you don't know guns, so make sure you're not giving too much detail if you can avoid it. That's a very easy way to spot a lack of experience with guns, in my experience. Your reader doesn't need to know the caliber just because the character is shooting a gun -- but in an autopsy, sure, the caliber is relevant.

You will lose your hearing eventually if you fire guns close to your ears unprotected. It's not sexy, and it also causes something called tinnitus. The real pros wear ear protection.

In terms of realism for writing, here's a couple rapid fire busted myths: You can't dodge bullets unless you're superhuman. Bullet wounds to the legs/arms/shoulders can absolutely still be fatal. Cardiac arrest caused by being shot is usually fatal, and CPR doesn't really help on its own. "Running out of shots" depends on the gun AND the modifications someone has made to it. You can't always tell just by looking at a gun what it will do. Silencers are rarely "silent" and are heavily regulated.

Injuries: Some bullets tear through bodies. Some aren't high enough caliber to do more than go in and lodge in some tissue. Some fragment and bounce around in weird ways. Depending on how gruesome you want to get, there's a lot of different ways to describe gunshot injuries. I've always been the kind of person to google images for better understanding, but I understand that's not for everyone. I think NYT or WaPo did a good piece on traumatic gun injuries a few years back, complete with an interview with an ER doc from Chicago (?). One thing I learned there -- sometimes people lose their legs, or both legs, after being shot in their leg.

In terms of describing how someone uses/fights with guns, I know the John Wick movies are a little cheesy, but they are staged by people who REALLY know their guns. They talk about what he's using usually before the scene starts, and there's very few frills when it comes to stance, firing, etc. John does a cool trick in the first or second movie where he ejects a casing one-handed away from his face, a notoriously hard maneuver that most people usually do with two hands to avoid getting burned. I highly recommend watching the John Wick movies for blocking ideas.

Which reminds me -- holding a gun sideways is a terrible idea. For many reasons. Stance, casing ejection, stability, etc. Someone can use it against you.

Never point a gun at something you're not willing to shoot. Well-trained characters should follow this rule religiously. If they were soldiers, agents, etc, they will know this rule.

Similarly, multiple people with guns will "clear" a room before entering. They will be trained for something called crossfire, which is when someone is downrange of their gun and could potentially be shot. A group of characters bursting into a room without clearing their shot is a nightmare. This is how people shoot their friends or random civilians.

I hope someone more knowledgeable can add onto this! These are just some big things that stick out to me when reading. I highly recommend checking out Mythbusters, John Wick, and even Hannibal for some semi-realistic shooting references. Good luck!

#asks #anon #fic writing #tw guns #tw firearms #tw discussion of guns #myfic #theresurrectionist #writing #fic background #writing references #writing reference #writing research

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strangerquinns · 7 months

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Deadly Reunion| Chapter 20

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues (no use of y/n)

word count: 2.5k+

⪻ previous hapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist | chapter one

You let out a soft hiss as you felt the pop of the shotgun in your hands rock back into your body. But you ignored it as you reloaded and sent another one causing the bullet to rip through the body of a Flayed. With each echo of the shot, it seems that more and more seemed to be coming out of the tree line.

You went with the group to help clear out the pack that had made its way to downtown Hawkins. As the weather got colder there seemed to be more and more Flayed showing up around the Lab. There was a theory that the Flayed preferred the cold. The chill in the air drops each day and only attracts them to the area more and more.

The gurgled moan came from your left and turned in time as a Flayed moved quickly toward you. You watched as its head was knocked back, the shotgun shell splitting through the blackened and softened skull, causing it to exit violently at the back of its head. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest as you moved from building to building, searching around, and making sure the other’s with you were covered. You rose and took aim as you watched another Flayed stagger rapidly, a limp in its walk, sending off another shot – missing. You cursed lowly and reloaded again before taking another shot, hitting right in the shoulder, and sending it down to the cracked concrete.

You strapped your shotgun across your back and grabbed your knife from your sheath. The heavy metal of the blade in your hand as you walked up to it. You no longer saw Flayed as people, you couldn’t. The disease that ran through their body didn’t allow it. Blackened veins spread beneath the thin, pale skin giving the walking corpse a more gray tone. Their eyes clouded over and vacant as they stared back at you. Some Flayed had missing skin from their forms, the body slowly decomposing the moment the disease entered your body. With your knife in your shaking hands, you knelt down and drove the blade into the skull, causing the animated corpse to stop moving.

There was an eerie silence that fell over the vacant downtown of your hometown as you looked around and saw the pack had been dealt with. You reached down and used the shirt the Flayed was using to wipe the end of the blade, before setting it back into your sheath. You looked over and saw Jonathan move from an alleyway, swiping a hand across his sweaty face, with Lucas following behind him. Hopper thought it would be a good idea for the volunteers and those assigned to help with his plan to come out and clear out the town as training.

You saw the logic behind it, but you were afraid of losing someone to a Flay since they had never dealt with one before.

“Everyone okay?” Jonathan called out, everyone else stepping down from their posts.

“I think so,” You answered with a slight pant to your voice. You looked around and saw a few others walking toward you. “All cleared out, should move quickly before another wave comes.”

Jonathan nodded, turning his gaze to Argyle, Lucas, and a few others. “Gather the bodies, place them in the middle for burning.”

“We burn them?” a girl with short, red curly hair and a freckled face spoke. You’d learned earlier that her name was Vicky.

“Of course. Don’t want the bodies left the rot.” Argyle spoke.

“Also, the burned bodies give the illusion that a group was here but moved on. Don’t want to give any indication of the camp.” You explained.

“Already have one group on our asses, the last thing we need is another,” Argyle spoke again before splitting off with Lucas and the others start to gather the bodies.

A deep sigh passed through your chapped lips as you tried to calm down your heart rate. Your adrenaline was pumping through you nearly to the point of making you nauseous. Reaching into the back pocket of your pants, you reached for the spare bandana that you’d grabbed from Eddie’s and tied it around your nose and mouth. With the others, you began to grab the bodies of the Flayed, before dropping them into a haphazard pile in the middle of the main street.

Over time you’d all gotten them cleaned up before Jonathan lit a match and tossed it onto the file. It didn’t take long for the entire pack to be engulfed in flames causing a dark blackened smoke to start to stretch up toward the sky.

“Let’s get back to camp, the sun is going down soon, and Hopper is going to want a report,” Jonathan spoke, everyone gathering their things, before starting the walk back toward Camp.

“Keep eyes up,” You spoke, pulling down the bandana, and projecting your voice to the group. “See anything odd, speak up, but keep as quiet as possible. Don’t know if this other group is out.”

All of you made your way down the main road, before turning down a residential street and going through the forest line back toward camp. You grabbed your rifle, checked the chamber, and held onto it – just in case. Being out of the camp was making you nervous. There was something about the forest being too quiet that made your stomach flip every once and a while.

“Something’s not right.” You whispered lowly as you walked up beside Jonathan, your eyes scanning around the forest. “It’s too quiet.”

Jonathan pinched his dark brows together for a moment, his steps slowing, as he listened. You watched as the realization came across his face. His footsteps stopped completely causing you and the rest of the group to do the same. You looked back where Argyle was at the back of the group with the new recruits between the three of you. Your eyes took a quick inventory of the four new recruits. Lucas, Vicky, Nick, and Laura all looked between you three with confused looks on your face. But before either of you could mutter a word, the familiar pop of a gun echoed through before the splintering of a tree to your left.

“Get down!” Argyle screamed, placing a hand on Lucas’ back and sending the younger man to the ground.

Your heart leaped in your throat as another shot rang out and you used a thicker tree as cover, cocking your shotgun, before turning and pointing it in the direction of the gunfire. Your eyes sight went down along the barrel of the shotgun where you caught movement between the trees. You didn’t think. Just took a deep breath before pulling the trigger. You watched as the shotgun shell hit against a tree and caused a large crack.

“Two on the left,” Jonathan reports, ducking behind a fallen tree and sending shot after shot in the direction you’d seen the figure moving.

“Lucas,” You turned and looked at him, he was still lying on the ground. “Get the others to camp. Keep low! Tell Hopper!”

His dark eyes stared at you for a moment before nodding his head, grabbing Vicky’s hand, and pulling her from the group. Nick and Laura followed close behind. You stepped out from behind the tree to cover their backs, sending shot after shot toward the direction of the gunfire. A shout from the distance gave you an indication that one of them hit. Argyle and Jonathan moved to get better vantage, but you stayed in place, looking out for the dark figures that moved through the trees like ghosts.

“On the right!” Argyle screamed toward you, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear.

Your head whipped to the right, pointing, and shooting as you watched someone move closer to you. The shotgun clipped a tree causing small splinters into the air.

Slinging your shotgun across your back, you moved and ducked to move more toward the left, keeping your eyes on their form. Whoever they were, they were small, roughly the same height as you. Your eyes caught a short curly hair as you moved more behind them.

Keeping your body low, and your steps as quiet as possible, you were soon up on them. Using the force of your body weight, you knocked yourself into them, sending both of you to the group. A deep knock of air could be heard coming from their chest as the two of you knocked onto the ground.

Straddling their waist, you brought your fist back and brought it down hard against their nose. The sickening snap of their nose breaking could be heard along with their cry of pain. You brought your fist down again, breaking the nose more, and spraying blood against the two of you. When you moved to hit them again, instead, they sent a fist into your stomach – knocking the air from your chest. Your weight was shifted as they moved to straddle over you, but you thought quickly, instead, you brought your boots up and knocked them in the chest.

An angry growl came from deep within your chest as you went in for the attack again. You didn’t have control, instead acted on your rage, and landed your fist over and over again.

You didn’t notice the gunshots had stopped or hear the call of your name. The person beneath you reached and fisted your hair tightly and knocked your forehead against theirs. Stars danced in your sight with spots of black and white. Soon you felt your body hitting the forest floor with the twigs, rocks, and your shotgun digging into your back before another knocked violently into your sides.

“Fuck!” You screamed and rolled onto your side, curving your body in as protection, as another kick came against you.

You felt the air knock from your lungs again as a cough racked through your body. It didn’t take much thought to know you were most likely coughing up blood. Your hand gripped tightly to your knife before swinging back and cutting across their arm. You watched as their eyes widened for a moment, giving you a chance to scramble back to your feet.

And in that moment you fully got a look at who you had been fighting for. The cloud of self-defense lifts for a moment for recognition to hit you. Her hair was shorter, but you knew that face. Even beyond the swollen nose, and bruises starting to form – it was Wendy.

“W-Wendy?” You rasped out with a puff of air escaping your lungs.

Her hand grasped tightly to her bleeding air as she looked at you. A shout of your name drew your attention away, and before you knew it, Wendy was slipping from your sight.

“Wait!” You shouted, moving to chase after her and ignoring the pain that was shooting through your body.

You caught up to her quickly, moving to throw yourself against her and knocking her back down against the forest floor. She screamed out in pain again and fought against you. But your injuries weren’t as bad as hers, giving you the upper hand.

“Wendy! Stop! It’s me! It’s me!” You shouted toward her, grabbing tightly to her arms, and holding them down beside her.

But she was crazed, fighting against you again. Wendy freed her arms and sent her fist into the side of your head before twisting her boy from beneath you. Wendy moved to stand quickly and the last thing you saw was the flash of her boot before everything around you went dark.

Eddie panted heavily as he moved through the forest, his eyes frantically searching from side to side, for any sight of you. When Lucas came running back into came without you, Jonathan, or Argyle – he’d never felt a fear like that before. He was already upset and scared by the fact that Hopper had put him on another detail. Eddie was the first to intercept Lucas the moment he spotted him running through the front yard of the Lab toward the main entrance.

“Where is she!?” Eddie spoke, his eyes frantic as he stared down at the younger man.

But now here Eddie stood in the middle of the forest with no sight of you. It didn’t take long for him to find Jonathan and Argyle – Steve, Hopper, and Enzo coming with him the moment Lucas spoke of the group falling under attack. But when there wasn’t a sight of you that sickening feeling returned and only worse.

“She went to the left, lost sight of her maybe ten minutes ago,” Jonathan explained. “A small group from the radicals cornered us. But we got one and the others ran off – except for one. That’s the one she went after.”

“And you left her alone without having coverage?” Hopper scolded.

“We were outnumbered, man. I’d say we did pretty good with the little we had!” Argyle argued.

“Span out, find her, now!” Eddie ordered with conviction and walked off in the direction Jonathan had said he last saw you walk off in.

Eddie called out your name over and over for what felt like forever but knew it was only minutes. His heart wouldn’t stop beating erratically against his chest as he swept his eyes looking for you. He took a step and felt something against the bottom of his feet. When his dark eyes looked down, Eddie saw the glint of a blade beneath the heavy sole of his boot. Bending down, Eddie’s fear only worsened when he recognized your knife. The heavy handle of the knife felt like a pound of lead in his palms as he stared down at it.

“Fuck,” Steve whispered as he came up beside Eddie, “Wait…look,”

Steve pointed off to the left where an obvious splatter of blood rested on the bright green leaves of a bush. Eddie was the first to move forward, sliding the knife into his back pocket. He followed the path of blood spatter and drops and stumbled across the sigh of your boots peaking from behind a cluster of bushes.

The way he screamed your name was of nothing but deep fear and pain. Eddie rushed forward and scraped his knees down against the forest floor, ignoring the shooting pain in his knees, as his eyes fell upon your unconscious form.

“Oh, baby,” His voice cracking, with shaking hands reaching out to gently caress your face, a curse leaving his mouth as he saw the blood, and forming bruises, against your skin. “Fuck!”

“Shit” Steve cursed coming up behind him, his fingers moving through his dark curls and gripping them tightly. “Hopper! Over here!”

Eddie felt a small bubble of relief when he saw the small rise and fall of your chest. He moved like he was afraid to touch you, afraid to hurt you more, with his hand caressing against your cheek. He ignored the drops of tears that fell against your cheek and mixed with your blood, instead whispering softly to you. Begging for your eyes to open, and praying to whatever was out there that he wasn’t going to lose you again.

Hope you all enjoyed it! If you did, please like + reblog it really helps and lets me know if people are reading/enjoying/want more. I appreciate all of you for taking the time to read this. I am still unsure how many chapters this will be (I'm shooting for no more than 30) but we're coming to the climax! Also, Wendy never died...huh...

TAG LIST: let me know if you wanna be added!

@mopeymopeymouse / @aris-house / @brxkenartt /@akiratoro420 /

@stylesxmunson/ @aactuaaltraash / @fandomgirl17 / @ches-86/ @chaoticcancer / @munsonology / @bellamy-barnes / @theonlyh3artbreaker / @idkidknemore / @familyvideowithsteve / @eddiesdingus / @thefemininemystiquee / @the-world-is-a-mess-and-so-am-i / @xdarkcreaturex / @lunr-flwr / @cherry-omi/ @im-emma22@munson-enthusiast / @munsonmecrazy / @jupitar-jul / @katiemrty/ @maddie-luvs-eddie /@eddiemusworld/ @ih3artdanielle / @eddiesguitarskills / @hargrovesswifee /@chaoticcancer / @rh1nestonecowg1rl / @atombombbibunny /@munson-enthusiast / @hellf-1-re / @fangirling-4-ever / @corrcdedcoffin /@sidthedollface2 / @emma77645 / @eddiiiieeee /@beep-beep-sherlock / @moldy-khunt / @bokutoswifey / @trixyvixx / @lma1986

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you

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oldworldwidgets · 2 months

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TEDDY TIME TEDDY TIME

howdy pardners this is theodore dawson, my courier from new vegas :3 he is very large and very angry yet very soft and very gay and he is so precious to me

here's his playlist!! once again it's chronological so u can listen to his story like a fun yeehaw jukebox musical. i think his is my favorite of all my character playlists

alllll the teddy stuff (appearance, stats, story before the canon events of the game, fun facts) can be found under the cut!!! if you feel so inclined to read The Long Version written like a story where my longwinded ass spends about 7k words talking about themes and character motivations (and some soft gay longing perhaps), it's up on ao3 here.

appearance

31 years old; birthday sept 25, 2250

6’6 with broad shoulders, generally built like a securitron.

patches of vitiligo splash across his face, chest, and arms

bennys bullet hit the right side of his face, carving a path from his eye to his ear, where a chunk of his ear is missing

because of this, he's blind in his right eye. the blind eye (a light, milky blue) is always a bit more closed than the seeing one (a dark grey/blue)

dark auburn chin-length hair and a short beard, both peppered with white because of his age and vitiligo. a big chunk of hair behind his ear is white as it grows from the scar.

he wears a horse or cow-skin vest with a great khans patch on the back

signature black cowboy hat, either on the top of his head or tied around his neck so it hangs down his back

gold jewelry - dangly cross earring in his left ear, upside down cross on a leather strap around his neck, big ass belt buckle

bright red shotgun shells on leather belt slung around his waist for his shotgun, dinner dell

stats

SPECIAL: 8, 1, 4, 5, 9, 2, 10

favorite perks: confirmed bachelor, animal friend, ferocious loyalty, intimidating presence

story

his dad was raised in utah and was very strictly mormon. when new jerusalem collapsed, dad moved himself, his wife, and his first son to the mojave and found work on an NCR sharecropper farm.

teddy was born fifth of six kids: four older brothers and one younger sister. he, his sister hannah, and his brother noah all have very visible vitiligo.

the kids were all also raised strictly mormon. his whole childhood, they were very poor. "at least we have each other" poor. his dad blamed it on the NCR, who owned the house and land and animals they ranched. they owned nothing, and the NCR paid them little more than that. teddy was quickly disillusioned with the NCR, then with the three of his brothers who decided to join them. one brother stayed back to inherit the ranch.

turns out, the NCR was paying; dad was just gambling it all away. he was so deeply in debt to all the families on the strip that they all decided to cut their losses and burn his farm to the ground.

that's... that's the story teddy decided to tell hannah, anyway (he wouldnt tell u this but he totally burnt that shit down on purpose). mom, dad, and one of his brothers were lost in the fire. teddy and hannah made it out, waved goodbye, parted ways.

teddy took his horse, old red, and began running jobs for whoever needed them. he never tied himself to one organization aaand his jobs weren't always above the ethical board. really, it was luck of the draw that, on any given day, he was the one defending the caravan instead of stealing from it

when he eventually went searching for his siblings, he found that two of the three brothers that had enlisted, predictably, were killed on duty. noah, though, had absconded almost immediately upon arrival due to a nasty chem habit

he found hannah "working" in front of gomorrah on the stip - her vitiligo made them instantly recognizable to each other - but she pretended not to know him because she was ashamed. he understood and gave up, but not before she hinted that he could find noah at the old mormon fort

he did, in fact, find noah there, medically detoxing under the care of some hot, blonde doctor (bweheheh....). they reconnected and it was..... really nice, even when they talked about how ashamed their dad would be if he could see them. it didnt matter. the family disappointments were the only family survivors.

teddy and arcade quickly grew very fond of each other, with arcade even being the first one to call him "teddy" after he told the doctor his name was theodore. he decided, despite its cutesy nature, to keep it.

after finishing his open jobs, teddy decided to stay with noah at the fort and run jobs for the followers when they needed it. he got reeeal comfy with arcade, and their subtle, playful flirtations eventually became noticeable to others. his brother, angry and sick from chem withdrawal and still fighting his religious upbringing, could not handle finding out that his baby brother was gay. when he did, he angrily shouted slurs and threw bottles at them until he was sedated and returned to bed.

teddy left the fort that night while everyone but the night watchman slept. he struggled to recover from what happened and drifted listlessly for a while... until he heard the news that noah had fled from his "rehab" program in the fort the day after teddy left, overdosed, and died.

the news spurred something in him, and he went looking for a real family and place to call home. after excelling in his initiation trials, he found one with the great khans. for two years, he was their resident rancher, runner, therapist, you name it.

then: 2278. the bitter springs massacre. teddy was away when it happened, and he still hasnt forgiven himself for it.

he spent the next three years drifting - again. hunting NCR. somehow racking up bounties in seemingly every single tribe in the mojave. his infamy, believe it or not, helped him survive: when he came across those who would kill him or turn him in, they seemed to prioritize who got to turn him in and collect the bounty over keeping themselves alive. whoops!

it was exhausting, though. drifting, killing, taking on the wasteland completely alone (except his beloved animals) took a heavy toll on teddy. he'd always been a killer and an outlaw, but he'd always been paid to clear other people's consciences. now, he felt he was only killing people to run from the consequences of his own actions. it was exhausting.

so, when three strangers – one in a loud, black-and-white checkered blazer – tried to knock him out and bind his hands, well… he had no reason not to let them.

*aint that a kick in the head starts blaring*

fun facts

hes not a big chem guy but hes such an alcoholic. in game he keeps at least 10 whiskeys on him at all times but would prefer to drink a sarsaparilla over using a stimpak.

he needs glasses pretty badly for his one seeing eye but he’s too stubborn to wear them

his scars always look a bit irritated because he doesnt take care of himself

he was a big pistol guy before benny shot him, but after he went blind in his aiming eye and started suffering from bouts of dizziness, he became a shotgunner. they require a far-from-perfect style of aiming

#BEHOLD: TEDDY #tw: religion #tw: overdose #not teddy but an important (non-canon) character #oc: teddy #oldworld.ocs #fallout new vegas #new vegas oc #fallout oc #fnv oc #courier six #fnv courier #arcade gannon #followers of the apocalypse

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herarcadewasteland · 8 months

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happy death day

A/N: Purge night.

-SKZ x reader, 18+.

mature content, violence etc. its the purge. more warnings later

next!

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You hated this “holiday” with a passion. It was cruel, violent and in your opinion, completely unnecessary. It wasn’t worth a few years of lowered poverty in the country to let everyday people become murderers just for fun. And you stood by it. Declined participation, parties, even hanging out with friends. You did none of it. Never would. You swore to yourself that after that one night when those eight men held your father and mother hostage while you were tied to a chair, which was in turn tied to a wall, torturing them slowly before killing them in front of you, you would never even acknowledge the horrendous night. So, you didn’t. You saved up and bought the best home protection you could, hiding away under blankets until your ears were blasted by the alarms that signaled 7am.

Tonight was the annual purge night. Work was filled with preparing purgers stocking up on their energy drinks and snacks. Oh the joys of working at a gas station. Gas prices were lowered for the day so purgers could fuel their vehicles of carnage, bullets and pocket knives were also half off. You hated that the most, your stock in the back was mostly shotgun shells and 12mm’s stacked beside boxes of pocket knives and ball-point pens because people had a strange liking towards pens around purge night. The 4:30pm close could not come sooner, your eyes staring daggers at the clock beside you. It was almost painful waiting, your stomach twisting, head a little fuzzy and hands sweating. It was far from your best feeling. You’d place an orgasm at the top of that list for sure.

The small chime of the bell hung above the door caught your attention, eyes drifting over to watch as eight men sauntered through, broad shoulders clad in leather, boots clicking against the tiled floor and faces already covered with black face masks. Some sported black caps, others slicked back hair and one who had achingly bright blue hair. You blinked at the bright colour, your eyes scanning the others as they spread out, gloved hands tracing shelves before your eyes caught the muscle of one of their arms, the veins in his arm pronounced as he lifted a case of diet soda. The realization he was grabbing diet soda made you laugh a little, not noticing the set of eyes it drew towards your position leant against the counter.

His intense gaze soon registered and you glanced in the general direction it was coming from, one of the tallest staring straight back at you with unblinking and dark eyes. It made you clear your throat and turn to start locking up the nicotine products for the night, time flying away as you glanced back at the clock which now read 4:20. Great, you thought, almost done. You locked up what needed to be locked behind the counter with practiced ease, muscle memory guiding you as you started zoning out. You didn’t even realize you completely zoned out until one of eight cleared their throat to get your attention. Turning in an almost graceful circle, your eyes widened slightly as you saw them all gathered with armfulls of things for the night. You huffed a small sigh and walked back up to be nearly flush with the counter, hand grabbing the scanner in preparation.

“You guys got everything? Not gonna be breaking in when I close up to get something you forgot because you were distracted by the soda choices?”

A few of them chuckled, the clear ring leader shaking his head as the one holding the soda visibly shrugged in a clearly unfazed motion. You hummed as the leader started piling items, your hands working double time to grab, scan and push away items as they slid one after the other. It took you two minutes to scan everything they had gathered in their tour, your hands now busy bagging as the leader typed in his card pin. Everything paid for and most things bagged, you could feel their eyes on you as you neatly placed the last of their protein bars in a small paper bag.

“Okay. That should be everything right?”, you sighed as you glanced up and accidentally made eye contact with every single one of them.

Their eyes almost made you zone out, something about them so alluring and dangerous… it made your heart race as you shakily pushed their last bag forward as the leader nodded again, his eyes catching yours for an unnerving moment as they began exiting with bags in hand. You cleared your throat to rid yourself of some nervous energy as you rounded the corner as the leader left, hands turning the lock quickly, your back meeting the cool glass as you let out a large sigh, your head dropping forward as the revving of a clearly modded engine filled your ears. The muffler shot twice before the heat of eight gazes left you free to sprint around, shutting off lights, locking things down and couple checking the front before you booked it out of the side door to your little punch buggy.

The click of the locks echoed slightly in your car before you started it, the time ticking slowly towards 7pm as you released a long breath. The journey home would be stressful. All the purge goers taunting the scared people with machine guns and shotguns as they drove past, cars bumper to bumper as you crawled through the streets to get home. The main street was the worst of it, your eyes scanning over 70 cars in front of and behind you on both sides of the road. It made your hands sweat more, small shakes running through your body as the clock ticked to 6:30pm. Half an hour to get home and activate your systems. Fuck. You glanced around frantically, the side road blissfully empty of large amounts of traffic, the crowd generally being too afraid of more secluded zones to take side streets.

Using that to your advantage, you swerved off onto the side street, speeding up significantly as you took a new, slightly longer route to your house. Well, technically your parents house. Your childhood home actually… you just stayed in it due to the convenience of owning it and the short distance from many stores you frequented often. Taking slightly sharper turns than normal, you arrived home with three minutes to spare, the sun setting peacefully in a mocking show before the carnage of the night began. Hands trembling and fumbling with your keys, you dropped them as you approached your doorstep. A loud curse and you were bending to grab them in a panic, eyes scanning your peripherals as the announcement froze your body mid bend.

Your heart beat faster as the announcement progressed, your body kicking into flight mode as you sprinted into the house after unlocking the door, your harsh breaths filling your ears as you locked the door, hand already punching in the security code and locking down the house. Your wide eyes watched the metal plates slide down over your large living room windows, the large black truck across the road sending a tingle down your spine before the barricades slammed shut and locked in place with a resounding clang. The loud alarms rang out seconds later, the noise making you jump as gunshots rang through the streets already, screams echoing from people who couldn’t make it inside in time.

Relaxing with the added noises and suffering outside was easier said than done, your tv on 45 to block it out but failing as trucks sputtered by, screams following, guns firing, more screams. It was torture. You needed a larger distraction, you decided as your security camera showed you a large black van blaring its speakers, a man's voice breaking through the static of it periodically.

“Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!”

A disgusted shiver ran down your spine, neck curving back and shoulders scrunching up before you shook it off and headed upstairs. A shower would help. Yeah, you thought, a nice warm shower, some music, a candle. Perfect way to distract yourself from outside. So gathering a change of clothes, sleep shorts and a nice big hoodie plus your comfiest pair of underwear, you started the shower, your music blasting. Stripping went quickly, your eyes avoiding the mirror as you walked past it. Stepping into the shower, most noise drowned away, “Boss” by NCT U guiding your head as you bobbed it along to the beat, lip syncing your favourite parts as you ran your hands through your hair. Your eyes closed in bliss as you let yourself float away in the beat and the comforting embrace of the water as it streamed down your body.

Your bliss was slightly disrupted as the next song started, the hard-hitting drum resonating in your bones as the lyrics started.

“나나나나나나나나 나나나나나나나나나,”

You nodded along, your body rolling slightly as the beat picked up further, your mind partially blanking as you got lost in the routine of your shower.

“Happy death day, happy, happy worst day,”

Foot tapping in tune with the chorus, your eyes opened to reach for your body wash and loofa, scrubbing away the nervousness in eucalyptus and mint as the song echoed in the small room.

“Wе're closer to death,”

You lost track of time, the last few verses cutting through the air as you turned off the shower slowly, towel wrapping around your body as you shivered in the rapidly cooling air. Your hands almost vibrated as you dressed quickly, your hands pausing as the song finished itself off a little too slowly for the moment.

“I'm so sick of the fakes, I'm so sick of the fakes,”

You mouthed the words, hands straightening the hem of the hoodie once you pulled it on properly, your eyes scanning your reflection with a certain distaste as you brushed your hair.

Vroom. Vroom. Vroom.

You rolled your eyes at the revving, placing your hairbrush back down on the counter and flicking off the light with a sigh.

Crash.

“Run, run for your life, run, run for your life.”

————

tag list: @artisticbirb

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next.

#herarcadewasteland #reader insert #fanfiction #skz fanfic #the purge #tw purge #urge to purge #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz #mostly gn!reader #tried not to depict defining features #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids purge au #skz au #stray kids au

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wordywarriorwrites · 1 year

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Calendar Girl: January

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwritesrwrites Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

January

“Don’t pull,” Joel instructed. “Just squeeze.”

Still unused to the kick and noise, you hesitated on the follow-through, and the first shot only winged the target. After he reminded you of your stance and hand placement, you aimed and fired again. The second bullet had been much closer to the mark, and the third better still.

After you popped off the remaining rounds, Joel complimented your progress, and gave you some additional tips on your handling and timing. You were a fast learner; he knew you’d only improve with time and practice, and after he’d reloaded and returned the gun to you, you went again, and hit the target five out of seven rounds.

“Ready to move onto something with a bit more firepower?” Joel asked as he dumped the shells.

“Go big or go home,” you laughed.

Ellie smiled and nudged your shoulder, “You going to be patrolling regularly?”

You shook your head, “I don’t think so. But I want to be ready to fill in - just in case.”

As you and Ellie chatted, Joel prepped his Mossberg 500. While he loaded, he wondered if you’d ever had to shoot your way out of a bad situation, if you’d ever needed to defend yourself in the ways Ellie had, or if you’d been forced to do other things - like some of the things he’d done - in order to survive.

He’d never bothered to ask if you’d taken out a clicker or killed a human being before - not that it would’ve mattered, or changed the way he felt about you. After all, he’d done more than his fair share of killing and had no right to judge anyone. Since the threat of violence always simmered just beneath the surface, knowing how to shoot was not only smart, it was a valuable, life-saving skill Joel thought everyone should learn.

Especially you.

“I like my knife,” Ellie stated as she showed it off. “Saved my ass many times, but after I learned how to shoot - well, I just feel safer now, you know?”

You made a noise of agreement, “I get it.”

He handed the shotgun over to Ellie, and after he advised you to cover your ears, she fired off a few. There was a significant difference between the Taurus Model 66 (his preferred weapon of choice) and a pump action. By having Ellie demonstrate, he hoped you’d feel more confident trying it, and be prepared to practice with and use a rifle in future. After Ellie emptied it, he took the shotgun apart, explained the innerworkings, and guided you through cleaning, reassembly, and loading.

By the time you finished putting it back together, it had gotten too dark to continue on with target practice, so, he called an end to the lesson for the day. After the weapons had been checked back in and secured in the town’s armory, the three of you left the makeshift shooting range, and walked to the mess hall for dinner. Ellie had been quick to ditch you both in favor of her friends, and after Joel followed you through the chow line for his serving of spaghetti and salad, he took a seat on the bench across from you at the table.

“So, you gonna tell me the real reason why you wanna learn how to shoot?” he asked.

You picked up your fork and knife, “I told you why.”

“I offered to teach you last year,” Joel replied as he rested his forearms on the table. “You refused - said you weren’t comfortable with it. What’s changed?”

While you looked down at your plate and stabbed at your leafy greens, he stared at you and willed you to speak. You’d been weird and standoffish since Christmas. In fact, Joel would go so far as to say you’d done a spectacular job of avoiding him almost entirely, and he’d grown tired of it.

“You gonna talk to me?” he prodded. “Or am I only your friend when you need somethin’?”

You jerked your head up. Slammed your fork down. Mirrored his posture. Gaze now completely direct and full of fire, you asked him when he learned and who’d taught him.

“I grew up in Texas. Was practically born with a rifle in my hand,” he shrugged. “Dad taught me when I turned seven, maybe eight. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, I used to be a trust fund brat, remember? And the only thing my parents ever taught me was how to be seen and not heard,” you snapped back lowly. “So, when the world went to shit, what do you think happened to me and girls like me? Huh?”

Joel knew some things about your past, about your life from before. Over a few too many at the bar one night, you’d compared battle scars. Swapped some of the grittier war stories. Neither of you had gone too deep into the weeds, though, because the pain had been too raw, and you’d both wanted to think about other things. You told him you’d lost your entire family the first night, that you’d seen unimaginable horrors since then, but he’d hoped such horrors hadn’t been inflicted on you.

After a stretch of silence, you cleared your throat, and kicked up your chin, “I don’t want pity, alright? I just… It’s well past time I learned how to protect myself.”

He nodded, “Whatever you need.”

You sat up straighter and reached for your fork, “And I’m sorry for avoiding you. With everything that’s happened… Well, I’m an absolute shitshow and not really the best company right now.”

Joel tentatively reached out and placed a hand on your forearm, “Hey, there’s nothin’ to be sorry for. And I’d rather see the shitshow than have you lower the curtain on me.”

“You want to see the drama unfold?” you snorted.

He smirked. Squeezed gently. You sighed and placed your hand over his. Joel looked at you and you looked at him, and without saying a word, you understood each other. It just flowed between you, effortless and uncomplicated. Many things had been left unsaid, but it was as if you both knew those things didn’t need to be said all at once. Time was not guaranteed and life was even shorter and more precious, but there wasn’t any rush to rake up the past just yet.

Especially not when there was a present and a future to be considered.

“You got time tomorrow for another lesson?” Joel wondered.

You took a bite of salad and thought for a moment before you spoke, “Morning’s free.”

He twirled some spaghetti and brought it toward his mouth, “I’ll meet you at your place.”

Having aired it out, conversation flowed freer and supper went down easier. A half hour later, he checked in with Ellie, who was still in the thick of it with her friends. With a promise that she’d be home in an hour, Joel offered to walk you to your place, and you accepted.

“Listen, uh, do you have anything at home?” he wondered, eyes on the icy ground and hands shoved in deep in his pockets. “Something to protect yourself with?”

“Broken baseball bat,” you said as you yanked on your hat and sidestepped a snow mound. “And dull kitchen knives. Those count?”

Joel didn’t have it in him to tell you that they didn’t count for much. That when it came down to it, you’d probably only have one chance to hit or stab someone - especially if that someone was faster and bigger than you. And if you were taken by surprise, overpowered, or knocked out cold, those weapons could be taken from you and used against you. At least with a gun and decent aim, you’d stand a chance of either scaring a would-be attacker off or wounding them bad enough to get away.

“Why do you ask?” you prompted.

Joel glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were alone before he spoke again.

“I know it’s against town policy to keep firearms in our homes,” he voiced quietly. “But I have two hidden away. One is a nine-millimeter. You could handle it. And it’s yours - if you want it.”

You nodded, “I’ll take it.”

It wasn’t until your house came into view that you gently grabbed his elbow and pulled him to a stop. Snowflakes drifted, landed on the hood of your coat, and you practically vibrated with shivers. The icy wind aggravated his nose, and his fingers felt as if they’d gone numb, but he didn’t dare move - not with you so close, and especially not when you placed your mitten-covered hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Night, Joel.”

Joel dipped his chin. Bid you goodnight as well. Watched you climb the stairs and go inside before he turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

He was warm all the way home.

Chapter 03: February

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou fan fic #tlou fan fiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #wordywarriorwrites #calendar girl

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the-girl-from-dres · 6 days

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Hi can I have a random fact dispensed for me pls?

Improvised firearms are unnervingly easy to make. All you need to make a modern gun work is a strong enough sleeve (not even necessarily a barrel) to tightly contain the bullet and something that can hit the percussion cap on the bullet hard enough for it to ignite the powder.

Gangs in the Philippines will often make shotguns out of a pair of steel pipes, one to hold the shell (the barrel) and a larger pipe (the receiver) that smaller pipe slides into, with a nail placed in the back.

To fire them, they load a shell in the barrel, and then slam the barrel into the back of the receiver, where the rear end of the shotgun shell hits the nail, triggering the percussion cap and firing the gun.

So the next time you see a friend with some PVC pipes, a pair of nails and a spring, it might not be as innocuous as it seems!

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

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Okay you know what? If no one else is gonna do it, i will. I give you: Destiel!Steddie >:)

(mentions of suicidal ideations below, for one little blurb; if you want to skip it, do not read from "The angel looks sad.." to "Pushing past that the best he could,". plus there is now self harm (? kinda, (MENTIONING HERE:) eddie cuts his palm to draw a sigil w/blood like in the show) and mentions of torture and hell if that counts as a tw/cw! read carefully, friend!)

If dying wasn’t bad enough, and crawling his ass out of his own grave (thank you Wayne for not cremating him like a hunter should be) wasn’t the worst thing that’d Eddie ever had to do, being backed into a rickety old abandoned barn absolutely covered in various warding sigils while whatever it was that’d left that raised handprint scar on his shoulder is still fighting it’s way through the door, may be it.

Had they been anywhere near any coast, Eddie’d think it was just a hurricane they hadn’t thought to figure into their smiting plans, but they were in the middle of the damn prairies and this goddamn barn creaked and groaned and against the battering winds (and also something maybe definitely not natural).

He and Wayne were shoulder to shoulder, shotguns at the ready, taking worrying glances back and forth through to the night sky between the boards that make up the barn’s roof and to the door in front of them. The hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck have been standing on end since they finished the last sigil, and despite pulling all his hair up off the back of his neck, those hairs have a thick sheen of cold sweat glazed over top of them.

Both their gazes snap back to the main doors of the barn as they fly open. Shotguns raised immediately to the…man(? Nope, not man. Can’t be, can it?) walking slowly and methodically over salt lines and sigil after sigil carved into the floor. (Okay, maybe just man..)

This man (Creature? Thing? Whatever…) is probably the most handsome person Eddie’s seen in his whole life. He’s got sun-kissed skin adorned with freckles, and very floofy and soft-looking sandy colored hair. And that only makes what they are about to do that much sadder. Sigh, goodbye beautiful man.

Eddie and Wayne spare the smallest glance to each other before letting shells fly into the man’s torso as he strides closer. Each light hanging from the ceiling explodes as he walks under it, showering him with glowing orange sparks.

What the fuck?? Eddie’s heart had already been hammering in his chest, but now it was going so fast it felt like it was about to vibrate right out of his skin. He had a quick thought about how in the hell Wayne’s old man heart was handling this, but fuck, he’s been through way more than Eddie had.

Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, did nothing to stall whatever creature this was. He just kept gliding forward, completely unaffected.

He and Wayne shared a panicked glance and quickly abandoned their shotguns, each picking up something else to try and kill this thing. Eddie grips the First Blade tight and turns. It’s already there. Looking at him in…relief?

“What are you?” he growls at the intruder.

“I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” It says (in a smooth, lovely voice), like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Oh yeah? Thanks for that.” Eddie lunges forward and stabs his knife directly into the creature’s chest.

Nothing happens. Ok, not demon then.

Eddie is stunned, leaving the hilt sticking out from the thing’s ridiculous yellow sweater, he backs away.

The thing looks down at his chest, then back up at Eddie, something like exasperated fondness painted over his features, then raises his hand and pulls the knife out. He drops it to the floor, its focus still trained on Eddie.

Eddie glances at Wayne, and sees his uncle raise a crowbar to the creature and swing. Eddie can see this thing’s beautiful hazel eyes harden in the fraction of a second it takes Wayne to swing, then it throws an arm out to his right, catching Wayne’s blow and turning the rest of his body to face him. His other hand comes up and he places two fingers to Wayne’s forehead. Wayne’s face droops and he drops to the floor.

The thing drops the iron crowbar and turns back to Eddie, looking even more exasperated. “We need to talk, Theodore. Alone.”

“Like hell we do. And don’t call me that.” Eddie ignores the creature and skirts around him to check on Wayne. He crouches down and checks his pulse. Perfectly fine. And..is he snoring?

“Your friend’s alive.” the creature tells him, offhandedly, while he paws through one of the books he and Wayne had brought with them.

“He’s my uncle. Now, who the hell are you.”

“My name would be incomprehensible to you, Theodore.”

“Well then what do I call you? Also seriously, cut it out with the ‘Theodore’ crap.”

“What am I to call you then?”

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

The thing smiles at him, “Call me..Steve.”

Eddie’s face scrunches up “Steve? Really?” Steve nods.

“Well okay then…I’m Eddie. Not Theodore. No one calls me Theodore.”

“Very well, Eddie.” He goes back to Wayne’s book in his hands.

“Okay. Now, again, what the hell are you?”

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

“Right. Let me clarify. What are you, really?”

He looks at him then, head cocked and brows furrowed. (Cute. What the fuck shut the fuck up no he isn’t!) “Do you not believe me?” He places the book down where it was and turns to face him.

Eddie snorts “No.”

“This is your problem, Eddie, you have no faith.” he smirks crookedly at him.

Suddenly, thunder crashes outside the barn and lights up the thing in front of him. Each flash of the light reflects the shadows of huge wings on the wall and ceiling behind him, growing and unfurling to a huge span, despite the significant lack of tangible feathery appendages

After his little show, Steve ducks his head slightly, his eyes still boring into Eddie. Had he not blinked this whole time?

“Some angel you are,” Eddie scoffs at him “You burned that woman’s eyes out of her skull.” He fights back a shudder thinking back to that particular sight.

Steve actually has the audacity to look slightly embarrassed at that. “I warned her not to try and see my true visage. Most are unable to perceive my true form…or my true voice.”

Eddie knows what he’s talking about immediately “That ear-splitting, window-shattering sound in the gas station after I came back. That was your real voice?”

“Yes. Some people, some…special people, are able to hear me as I am. I believed you were one of those people. I was mistaken.”

“Uh huh, and so what visage are you in now? Holy middle school teacher?”

The angel looks down at himself and pulls at the ruined yellow sweater and jeans. “This is a vessel.”

“You’re possessing some poor bastard?”

The angel looks sad. “No. He was a broken man. One who did not wish to be of this earth any longer. We made a deal: I brought him to heaven and he gave me the use of his body.”

Oh. Damn. And Eddie just shot and stabbed the poor guy.

Pushing past that the best he could, Eddie continues. “I’m not buying what you’re selling pal. Why would an angel be sent to pull me outta hell.”

He was trying to be rhetorical, but Steve answers anyway. “Good things do happen.”

“Not in my experience they don’t.”

Steve furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Eddie?” he steps closer, seeming to look right through him. He must come to some conclusion because he says “You do not think you deserve to be saved.”

Oof. Looks like he peered right into Eddie’s soul for that one.

“You are important, Theodore Munson,”

“Don’t call me that like you know me, motherfucker.” Eddie spits out.

Steve cocks his head once again, eyes looking both confused and angry. “I do know you, Theodore Munson. I stitched your body, soul, and very existence back together with my grace." He steps closer, crowding in close to Eddie, who does not waver from his spot. “I know you completely. Body and soul. And you are important.”

Trying his damndest not to be flustered at that, Eddie says “And who decided that?”

Steve smirks “God.”

He reaches out and places his hand directly over the scar on Eddie’s shoulder and suddenly he’s waking up(???) on the floor of the barn. Wayne is stirring beside him as well, grumbling out a long string of curse words.

Sunlight peeks through the barn walls, and the angel is gone. “Jesus H. Christ!”

———

The two hunters are silent all the way back to Wayne’s.

As soon as they step across the threshold, Eddie drops his duffel and starts to pace across Wayne’s open kitchen/living room.

“What can this even mean? Was he serious? Angels, Wayne! Angels?! We need to do research, we need to figure out wards and how to kill them…” He was rambling, mostly to himself, keeping Wayne’s inevitable questions at bay.

He didn’t want to believe what the strikingly beautiful man had said in that barn, but Eddie knew better. Even before the proof of the creature easily walking past all their known warding spells and sigils.

Eddie knew where he was before he wasn’t. Before he’d clawed his way out of a shallow grave that had looked like a bomb’d gone off right over where the center of his chest would’ve been, the trees surrounding all collapsed outward around him when he’d emerged.

Eddie knew he had been in hell, and had been tortured for 30 years.

Beaten. Tortured. Killed. Ripped apart. Stitched whole again for his tormentors to start all over.

Then the real kicker: he’d swapped places. For what seemed to be 10 more years, he did the torturing.

That’s what made this whole thing so unbelievable. Not that heaven and hell existed, he knew better, but that the big man himself sent one of his own to pull him out of hell. That Eddie was worth saving, that he hadn’t done the things he’d done while down there. Obviously God would know, had to know, what he’d done. And yet.

“Where are we even going to find shit like that?” Eddie asks aloud.

“Only one place to start, my boy.”

Eddie looks up in time to catch the book Wayne tossed at him.

Oh. Duh. It was a bible.

“I don’t think this will help us, Wayne.”

“True, maybe not this version.” Wayne scrubs the scruff on his chin with one hand, the other on his hip. “Wonder what the oldest version of that book is that we can get our hands on.”

“Museum? Church?” Eddie aimlessly flips through the bible, thinking of what ruse he’d have to pull together to get his hands on an old enough copy.

“I don’ think I have it in me to pretend to be a nun.” Wayne beats him to it.

Eddie snorts, “Don’t sell yourself short, old man, you could pull it off if you wanted.” He sits down at Wayne’s old home computer and turns it on. “I wonder if there are any archive scans of some old as shit ones online.”

Hours of research later (mostly to do with how slow Wayne’s connection was), the two hunters had a couple possible warding/banishing sigils, the main one of which (and the most repeated) needed to be drawn in the user’s own blood.

“No word on how long it’ll stay active?” Wayne asks from his seat in front of his fireplace after Eddie explains what he’d found.

“Nothing, just that it must be drawn in the user’s own blood.” Eddie reads from his notes “Maybe that means you can paint one by your recliner and be able to use it forever.”

Wayne scoffs and takes another drink of his beer. Eddie moves towards the front door, flipping open his knife. “I’m gonna put one by the front door for now, I guess we’ll see if it works if Stevie boy shows his mug around here again.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you boy?” Wayne laughs.

“Shut it, old man.”

—--

About a month had passed since first meeting the angel who pulled him out of hell.

Eddie wanted to believe that it wasn’t real, pretend the longer that they went without seeing Steve, that the whole thing was just their imagination. Or something.

Obviously if heaven needed him for something, Steve would’ve been back sooner, right?

Well tough luck for him, because a month and a half after that night in the barn, a beautiful vision of sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and sunflower yellow sweater materialized in Wayne’s kitchen in a gust of wind.

Eddie definitely didn’t drop the toast he’d been munching on in surprise, nor did his hands fly downward in embarrassment of being caught in just his boxers.

Okay maybe he did.

“Jesus H. Christ! A little fuckin’ warning maybe??”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together as he looked the other man up and down. “My apologies, Eddie, what would you like me to do next time?”

Eddie blinked at him, surprised that the angel was willing. “Well I know it must be great and real convenient to just appear where you want, but we have a door you know.” Eddie gestures towards the front door, “You could always appear there and oh, i don’t know, knock?”

The angel looks towards where Eddie had indicated, face still scrunched in confusion. “Very well, Eddie, I will do just that.” and blinked away.

Before he could react, Eddie hears a knock on the front door. “Damn, that worked? Coming!” he yells, heading to the door.

He pulls it open, only to find the front porch empty.

“What in the hell? How the fuck do you know what a ding-dong-ditch is?!?” He yells to nothing and slams the door back closed.

“I do not.” Steve’s voice comes from directly behind him.

“Fucking hell!” Eddie spins around, “What happened to knocking??”

Impossibly, the angel manages to look even more confused. “I did knock. Then I came right back to the kitchen to find you gone.”

All Eddie can do is laugh. “You are something else, Stevie,” he pats the other man’s shoulder and scoots around him to the steps. “Just stay down here, I will be right back as soon as I’m dressed.”

He sees Steve’s hand raise, fingers poised to snap and–

“There, now you are dressed, can I please–”

“Dammit, I can dress myself!” Eddie immediately starts pulling off the suit jacket Steve had decided he should be dressed in. “Just… stay down here, take over Wayne’s armchair, I don’t care, I will be right back, ‘kay?”

He turns and trudges up the stairs to change, “Where the hell’d he even find this suit?” Admittedly, he did a good job. The red shirt and black tie with the black suit is about what he’d pick for himself, but he doesn’t even remember owning a red dress shirt.

Eddie pulls on a well-worn pair of black jeans and an even more well-loved Metallica tee, grabbing up one of Wayne’s flannels and his pocket knife as he heads back out of his room and down the stairs.

He’s almost at the bottom of the stairs when he comes to the sigil he’d drawn on the stairwell wall. Hidden from the front door’s view, but close enough to use if needed. He places his palm in the middle…nothing extraordinary happens.

“Stevie? You there?”

“Yes, Eddie, I am here.”

Damn, so a month and a half is no good. “Okay, just making sure you didn’t leave.” He hears Steve’s footsteps coming closer to the stairwell. Shit. Eddie Flips open his knife and cuts his palm, quickly drawing a new sigil beside the old one. “Almost done, be down soon.”

Steve appears at the bottom of the stairwell as Eddie finishes and steps down the last couple steps. “See, this is what Eddie really is, not that monkey suit crap you had me in before.”

Steve’s face scrunches “I think I prefer the suit.”

“Well I don’t.” There’s a slight pause, “Hey Steve?”

“Yes Eddie?”

“Sorry about this in advance, tell me all about it when you get back?” It’s a risky time to try a one-liner, just in case this doesn’t work and the angel gets pissed, but he couldn’t resist.

“Eddie, what are you–” Eddie slams his hand to the new sigil and the house is engulfed in a blinding white light.

He opens his eyes, and Steve is gone. “Stevie? You there?”

Nothing.

“Well, let's see how long this takes.” He pulls out his phone and starts a timer.

–

It’s about 3 and a half hours until Steve returns.

Eddie hears the flap of wings and pulls out his phone to stop the timer.

“Three and a half hours seems pretty long when you can just teleport everywhere, Stevie.”

“I was unable to return until just now.”

He turns to face the angel from where he’s been crafting the most sandwich of all sandwiches, and the laugh on his lips dies before it can even begin.

Steve looks like a kicked, dejected puppy. Eyebrows pulled up, eyes wide and shining, plump, kissable lips pulled taught and downward into a pout.

“Oh Stevie, don’t look so dejected.” Eddie muses and turns away before he can do something stupid like pull the other man into a hug and pepper his face with kisses until he smiles again. Not like Eddie been thinking about it or anything, gotta tamp down the idea though, right?

“You want a sammich? That must’ve taken a lot out of you.”

“No, Eddie, I do not want a sandwich. I want you to tell me why you used a banishing sigil on me.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, angel, I can assume you’re a good guy all I want but I wanted to make sure what I found would get rid of others like you just in case.” he picks up his finished sandwich and turns to face Steve, leaning back against his mess on the counter as he takes a bite, speaking around his mouthful. “Where’d you end up, anyway?”

The angel’s face had morphed into an angry frown (at least it looked like anger; it didn’t seem like conveying emotions was something he’d gotten a grasp on yet.) “A small town in Indiana.”

“Really? Indiana? You don’t immediately get thrown back up to heaven?”

“No, we are just blasted backwards from the sigil. We are unable to return to that spot until the ward wears off.”

Eddie swallows “You said ‘we’. There are more of you then.”

“Of course there are, Eddie, I have many brothers and sisters.”

“Are all of them the good guys then? Won’t try to hurt anyone?”

“Of course not.”

“Well if they do, at least we know that this sigil will work to get rid of them.”

Steve pondered that for a moment. “Please do be careful with that sigil, Eddie. If an angel is heavily injured, the sigil may banish them from existence permanently, not just from you.”

“Good to know, thanks Stevie.” he takes another bite of his sandwich. “Now, what is it that you needed?”

Part 2 is here!! | NOW ON AO3

#destiel #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #dean winchester #castiel #bobby singer #spn #st #stranger things #supernatural #if anyone was going to do it #it might as well have been me #destiel was my first ship #destiel!steddie

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

Text

Song of the Heart: Dante X Anxious G/N Reader

SUMMARY: You work at the DMC with everyone but are deathly shy around Dante. The oblivious younger brother ends up confused and semi-hurt that you are “afraid” of him. He thinks that he might have upset/offended you and tries his best to figure out what is going on. It turns out, it was the complete opposite of what he thought.

I'm slowly reposting my AO3 stuff here since it seems like that's what people do on here (I am pretty new to Tumblr lmao) 💌💌💌 Anxious (shy?) G/N Reader. Non-established relationship. FLUFF (Semi-implied dirty things)

“Damn,” You grumbled as your hands fumbled around your belt, “Nero, you don’t by chance have any spare shells, do you?”

The young man’s voice took on a chaffed tone, "You know that Rose doesn’t use shells, right?"

You clicked your tongue and closed Revenant, "Was worth a shot…"

He looked toward the other side of the room where you stood, “And here I thought I was the ‘inexperienced’ hunter,” he made an exaggerated playful huff and tossed three shells at you, "That's all I got. Now, don’t spend 'em all in one place.”

Laughing quietly, you rolled your eyes, “Fuck off” and whipped Nero off.

All you got in response was a smirk and an eyebrow wiggle. Hastily, you shoved the two extra shells into your pocket and reopened the action of the shotgun.

A shout from Nero grabbed your attention, “Head’s up!”

You’ve worked with him a hundred times before and knew exactly what he wanted; you dropped flat against the ground. A loud bang resounded from Blue Rose, twin bullets nestled deep into the Riot demon’s skin. It moved back a bit in response to the shot. Not wasting a single second, you sprang to your feet and aimed the reloaded Revenant. Another shot rang out and was accompanied by the cry of the dissolving creature.

You opened the action again and slid another shell into the chamber, “Not a bad shot, alter-boy," you snapped your gun shut, "but I would've been fine."

"Yeah right," Nero sauntered your way as he reloaded his gun, "last time you said that I had to drag your sorry poisoned ass back to Nico."

Both of you continued your path down into the demon nest, "Like I haven't had to do that to you, mister 'let's see how many times I can get tossed by Furies'."

"Hey! That was once! Plus, I got my answer didn't I?"

The room resounded with laughter between the two of you. Times like these are why you’d rather work with Nero than anyone else, even if he is a hot-headed idiot sometimes. You turned to face the next set of the demonic onslaught.

Several hours had passed before you both returned to the surface. The sun had long since faded and the night sky would've been a gorgeous sight, except you were engulfed in demon blood. Sure, you got dirty and grimy from work but this was overkill. Never in all your years had you been this coated in gunk.

Nero stood next to you as he holstered Blue Rose, "That was fun," he chortled. Exasperated, you whipped your head to the side to glare at him as he gave you double finger guns with a wink, "Same time next week?"

You were unable to be mad at him, a laugh bubbled up from your throat, and shook your head slightly, "That was the gayest thing I have ever seen, Nero. Ho-ly shit …" you slid off your coat to make yourself less miserable.

"Ah, I gotcha-- I should do one finger gun 'cause I'm Bi," Nero had copied your move of taking off some clothing.

Smiling and still laughing you jested back, "That’s even worse"

With both of you having nothing but a shirt, pants, and socks on, you headed back to the van. From the door, you heard a cat-call whistle.

Nico was leaning against the door lighting a cigarette, "Thought y'all were just friends~" a heavy coat of sarcasm laced her voice.

" Hey! Fuck off," Nero cut in before you could respond, "just got sick of re-enacting Carrie, that's all."

"Uh-huh…" Nico moved aside her face plastered with a shit-eating grin as she let you both into the van. You gave Nico a smile and a small wave.

Nero went to throw the soaked clothing on the table, "So help me God--" Nico grabbed him by the back of his collar, "Boy, don't you even think 'bout it… Put that shit in there!" She pointed to an empty storage tub--one that is meant for bloodied clothing.

With a grumble, Nero tossed his pile of clothes into the bin. He then walked over to the passenger seat and slumped down with a loud groan.

You followed up by throwing your clothes on top of his. Setting your weapons on the bench, you flopped down face-first into the couch exhausted, “Wake me when we get back, please..?”

Nico walked over to the ashtray on the table, snuffing out her already-finished smoke, “Sure thing”

You felt something nudge your shoulder and heard something unintelligible. The next thing you knew, you were on the floor facing the ceiling. Slowly you blinked trying to wake yourself up, “--you even listening to me?!” you focused your eyes on the noisy figure above you, Nico.

“...hm?” you yawned as you sat up, “We back at the shop?”

“Uh, yeah! We have been for almost an hour,” Nico helped you up onto your feet, “Nero and I tried to get you up but you just swatted at us,” she pulled out her pack of smokes, “I’m goin’ home now and I ain’t takin’ you with, so go on and get!” Nico flashed you a smile as you gathered your things--or rather just your weapons, seeing as someone took the bloodied clothes in already, and left the van.

Once inside the DMC, you stopped and grabbed a drink from the fridge then headed up to your room. Nero had volunteered you to live here to keep an eye on the two brothers--and to make sure they don’t destroy any more walls. At first, you were pissed--who wouldn’t be? Living with Nero was fine but living with his stone-faced dad and your ungodly hot boss who fight every time the other sneezes sideways is a fucking nightmare. However, over the past few months, the twins grew on you and you began to slightly enjoy living at the DMC.

Since you were so tired, you fumbled with the knob for a while before finally getting into your room. You haphazardly dropped all of your stuff to the floor and grabbed some clean clothes and towels, heading for a much-needed shower.

Upon reaching the bathroom the door was shut. Knowing better than to just waltz in--which you learned the hard way--you knocked on the door checking if anyone was in there. No response. Taking that as an answer, you headed in and began to strip. Once fully barren, you turned on the shower head stepping in. The warm water felt nice as you began to relax.

The last few jobs have been brutal, to say the least. It feels like everyone around you is always unaffected by how hard this can be. It makes you feel marginally weaker, even though you can go toe-to-toe with any of the other hunters (besides Vergil, that is).

A sudden loud knock came from the other side of the door pulling you from your thoughts, “Hey, the old man sent me to get the rest of your dirty clothes, you mind?”

The relaxed mood was gone in an instant as your pulse quickened, Dante. A shy lump began to form in your throat, “C-come in.”

The door squeaked as it opened, “Thanks, babe!” you swear you could practically hear his smirk, “Glad you made it back in one piece! I’ll see you later!”

A click from the door indicated that the youngest brother left. Gently you sighed and continued to shower. It didn’t take long for your mind to wander to thoughts about Dante.

Although you have worked at Devil May Cry for several years now, you had scarcely interacted with the suave man, or rather you couldn’t. Dante had been nothing but warm and welcoming, but something about him made you anxious enough that it petrified you--quite literally, in most cases. Originally, you brushed it off as being based on him being your “boss”, but something in you told you otherwise. His smile made you feel things that you didn’t think were even possible. That damned laugh could put you into a trance any day. That doesn’t even take into account Dante’s physical features-- You shook your head. The rest of your shower was spent trying to keep your mind from wandering to that charming youngest son of Sparda.

You turned off the faucet and stepped onto the bathmat. The feeling of your fuzzy well-used towels was a welcomed touch after today’s job. Lazily, you got dressed, brushed your teeth, and headed back to your room for the night.

Morning came and went quickly, by the time you rolled out of bed it was well-past noon. You stretched out and upwards as you sat up, moaning a bit from the feeling. Eyes still half-shut, you shambled over to the bathroom.

You’d lived here long enough that you could care less about walking around in your sleepwear--or rather, you didn’t care if Vergil saw you like this, Dante was a different story. At the bottom of the stairs, you saw Vergil sitting on the couch and, like normal, he was nose-deep into a much too-large book.

“Mornin’ Vergil…” you waltz over to the desk and peer over a few scattered job folders.

Vergil raised an eyebrow, “It is well past morning,” you looked over to him, surprised he responded. His gaze hadn’t left the page, “The folder on the far right is a job that you should be interested in--per Morrison’s request.”

You slowly moved to grab the folder, still groggy from sleep, “Gotcha… thanks, Vergil.”

He gave you a flat smile as you walked over to the bar counter to look at the paperwork. You couldn’t help but feel a bit elated at the small progress you’ve made towards be-friending the eldest twin. A few months ago he barely acknowledged your existence--today, you got a smile.

A growl came from your stomach, pulling you from your thoughts. The folder now set on the bar top, you turned around to the door behind you--the kitchen door. You grabbed an apple (which was surprisingly still ripe) and a bottle of water.

You sat on one of the pleather stools at the bar and opened the folder, enjoying your fruit whilst in thought, “ Huh,” a photo of the “job site” caught your eye, “this is going to be a bitch, Nero might have to do this with one of the brothers…” you studied the notes from the client, “Shit, that’s a lot of dough… Maybe I should give this one to Dante so he can pay some of the--”

“That’s quite the job, goddamn!” you tensed up feeling someone lean over your shoulder, “You really got your work cut out for yah.”

All you could manage in response was a meek, “Y-yeah,” all you could hear was your heartbeat and Dante’s soft breaths.

“If you want,” he leaned back, thank God, “I could help--give ol’ Nero a break.”

All thought of trying to remain calm had now flown far out the window as you thought for a moment, “Work with… Dante..? I really shouldn’t--” you bit your lip in thought as your brow creased slightly, “but it would be nice to work with someone more experienced…”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Dante rubbed the back of his neck as he noticed your worry, “I know you like workin’ with Nero.”

With pursed lips, you took a slow breath to calm yourself, “No, we can d-do this job t-together, if you w-want…” 100% calm, nailed it.

“Oh, Hell yeah!” a large warm hand hit your back flatly, “When we gotta--”

Without saying anything, you lifted a shaky hand and pointed to the terms, “T-today would be b-best.”

Dante removed his hand from your back, “Shit, alright. Wanna leave now or?”

You nodded coyly as you went to get up from the stool. However, this puts you face to face (or rather face to chest) with Dante, just barely inches from him. A gentle scent of burnt wood (and a faint scent of pizza) filled your senses. You’d never been this close to him nor had you ever actually thought you’d be. To prevent dying of a heart attack, you scuttled off to your room.

Gear all on and ready, you left your room and walked towards the stairs. However, you stopped upon overhearing Dante and Vergil talking.

“--did anything to upset them?” Dante’s voice wasn’t his usual energetic tone, rather, his voice was worried. Concerned and confused, you continued your eavesdropping.

“Have you asked them yourself?” Vergil’s tone was rather warm, considering his usual stoic nature.

Dante sighed, “N-no… Even if I did, I doubt they’d tell me.”

“There is--” Vergil stopped and turned towards the stairs, shit.

Attempting to seem like you weren’t just stopped at the top, you calmly trotted down the stairs.

“Ready to go, hot stuff?” Dante smiled widely.

You caught a glance at his un-naturally sharp teeth and swallowed hard, God the things those could do to you, “Y-yeah… You?”

“Always,” he winked, “shall we?” Dante made a grand gesture toward the garage.

You waved goodbye to Vergil, who seemed taken back a bit by the friendly gesture and simply nodded in response.

Dante walked over to the far side of the opened bay doors, “You alright with ridin’ Cavaliere..?”

You looked like a deer in headlights as you stood for a moment, “S-sure.”

He sat down on the bike and gestured for you to come over. Sheepishly, you made your way over and mounted the bike.

“Might wanna grab onto me,” Dante kicked the kickstand, “Lemme know if I am going too fast for yah.”

Neatly you placed your hands on the sides of his hips and slid as close to him as possible. Dante turned the ignition and shifted the transmission to neutral his hands squeezing the clutch. He pressed the starter and you were off.

Despite your nerves, Dante’s warm body made you slowly melt into him. You could hear and feel his heartbeat, it was a calm and soothing rhythm. Warm leather from the side of the jacket caressed your cheek as you lost yourself in the moment. The intoxicating smell of a campfire and old Italian food made your heart flutter. As you sat with him you couldn't help but savor the moment and allow yourself to relax.

It was only about an hour's drive away, at least with Dante’s manic driving. You hadn’t been paying attention to the fact that the bike had been off and kickstand out for almost a minute now.

“As much as I am enjoying this,” Dante’s hand gently caressed over yours which were still firmly gripping his hips, “we have work to do, babe.”

Upon realizing what was going on, you panicked. In this spooked state, you scrambled to get off Cavaliere falling off onto the concrete, “Ow, fuck…”

“As much as I am enjoying this,” Dante’s hand gently caressed over yours that were still ever so tightly wrapped around him, “we have work to do, babe.”

Upon realizing what was going on, you panicked. In this spooked state, you scrambled to get off Cavaliere falling off onto the concrete, “Ow, fuck…”

An amused grin spread across Dante’s face, “You alright?”

Hurriedly you scrambled to your feat and gave him a nod, face as red as a tomato from embarrassment.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he got off the bike and nodded toward the enormous demon’s nest before you.

The blurry figure of Dante flew past you for the umpteenth time as you took care of a group of Hell Anternoras. You smiled. As much as you love working with Nero, it was undeniable that Dante’s style worked with yours considerably better.

Finishing the final one, you heard Dante yell something about “blowing his wad” and couldn’t help but wander to some rather unprofessional thoughts. Ones of Dante telling you--no, doing such things to you…

Being submerged in your perverse daydreaming, you weren’t aware of the ever-encroaching Nobody stalking you from behind. Dante, however, did and took action.

The next thing you knew you were several feet away from where you were and Dante had you pinned underneath him. Giving you a cheeky smile and a slight eyebrow wiggle, he shot back up and took care of the demon. You slowly sat upwards, confused and having a headache starting--not only from being slammed into the ground but because your heart had begun to beat much faster.

He let out a signature laugh and sly comment. Then went back to you, extending a hand to help you up. You stared at his outward stretched hand and stood up, without him. He pursed his lips in confusion his eyes held a small hurt look that you seemingly didn’t notice and slowly retracted his hand.

Dante’s hands were stuffed into his pockets as whistled to himself. The both of you hadn’t spoken since him pinning you almost an hour earlier. Tense didn’t even come close to describing how uncomfortable the air had become. A part of you wanted to crawl up into a ball and wait for the tension to subside.

Dante being Dante, couldn’t stand the odd mood any longer and wanted to fix it, “Hey can… I ask you something?”

You nodded, not daring to speak--feeling a lump already starting in your throat.

“Is there a reason you’re afraid of me?” his voice was uncharacteristically serious. Still, without an audible response, Dante looked back at you and saw you were dead-stopped in your tracks

“Wh-what makes you th-think I am afr-fraid of you, huh?” your vain attempt at confidence had now been obliterated by your stutter.

“Well,” Dante looked around in thought then locked eyes with yours, “Every time you’re around me, all I can hear is how fast your heart is--I asked Verge about it and he said it’s normally a fear thing.”

Breaking eye contact as a dark blush spread widely across your face. Your heart quickened further and, given the twitch in Dante’s gaze, you knew that he noticed. Your voice was gentle and quiet, “Y-you can hear my h-heart?”

He smiled a bit trying to lighten the mood, “I’m half demon, remember? Demons feed on human blood, which comes from your heart n’ stuff.”. Your eyes widened as your thoughts wandered about Dante eating you. Seeing your deer-in-headlights stare Dante quickly clarified himself, “not that I plan on drinking yours or anythin’...”

The occasional distant sounds of demonic growls were the only thing that broke the heavy silence. Dante’s eyes were plastered to you and yours were everywhere beside him. Thoughts were running a million miles an hour in your head as you thought about what you could say--or what you could make up instead of telling him the truth. Fear crept into your mind at what Dante would say, what he’d do. He’d probably fire you and never want to talk to you again--hell, maybe he’d forebay you from seeing even Nero. You’d be discredited as a demon hunter by everyone around and have to get a normal job, a boring job.

“I thought… I dunno--” Dante’s voice had become noticeably tender as he had placed a hand on the back of his neck shrugging, "I thought maybe us doing a job together might help but…" Dante’s face took on a saddened gaze, “seems I only made it worse.”

You stopped your rapid glances at the environment and settled on staring at Dante’s boots. Nothing came out as you stood there mouth agape trying to find the right words. Harshly you bit your lip and decided to bite the bullet, “Dante-”. Iridescent teal eyes fixated on you in curiosity as he patiently waited for you to continue, “It’s not-- I--” you could feel your body begin to shake in frustration as you paused for a moment thinking, “Why am I like this--why can’t I just--”

A hand gently grabbed yours as you came back to your senses. Dante had moved to be right in front of you and had a slight pout, “Hey, you okay? We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to--don’t force yourself.”

Instinctively you interlaced your fingers with his and gently squeezed his hand, “D-Dante, I--” your lips trembled your heart rate was so loud that you felt ill as you mumbled those forsaken words, “I like … or well, love y-you and I f-figure you don’t feel the s-same and-- and I--.” your voice cracked as you lost your train of thought.

Expecting him to react in anger (and possibly even physical violence), you flinched, shut your eyes, and braced for the worst. However, nothing happened. After a solid minute or so, you fearfully opened your eyes. Dante was still just standing there holding your hand. His brows twitched slightly as he seemingly was in deep thought.

He was cautious when approaching you, not wanting to overstep his bounds. You felt the gentle exhale of his breath on your lips as he leaned ever closer. Dante audibly swallowed and waited for your move. With a hitched breath, you closed the distance.

The kisses weren’t the most elegant, but that didn’t matter, all that mattered in this very moment was Dante. His stubble lightly brushed your face and his lips tasted just as sweet as you had imagined. With your free hand, you ran your fingers gently through his hair--which was surprisingly silk-like. The kiss ended but neither of you moved both of you panting slightly.

Dante smiled wistfully and spoke, “Who said I don’t feel the same?” he lightly nuzzled your nose with his, “ In fact, I think I love you too.”

Your heart skipped a beat, “I--”

His free hand moved up to cup the side of your face as you locked lips once again. However, this time, he made sure to make how he felt as apparent as possible. Stealing your breath with how feverishly he was pushing into you. Your hand that was holding his slowly groped up his arm. You felt Dante’s arm flex a bit from the sudden message-like touches. Dante must have enjoyed your gentle squeezing because he gave you small kitten licks against your lips asking for more.

He was excited, that much was apparent, from how much he explored your mouth. You got a better taste of him now; his mouth tasted similarly to how he smelt--he tasted smokey (perhaps a side-effect of his demonic heritage?). It was intoxicating. You felt light as a feather and never wanted to let go. At this moment, everything faded away; there was not a single person in the world besides you and him. Dante felt your stance become unsteady so he placed both his hands firmly at the small of your back and you placed your hands on his chest. You moaned into the kiss quietly. Hearing your arousal, Dante began to practically devour your lips. His hips ground against yours making you moan more.

He decided to let you catch your breath for a moment. While you did so, Dante moved to kiss along your jawline moving down your neck. His stubble had begun to tickle at your neck making you giggle. You felt a grin form against your skin as he began to purposely nuzzle you with it. Playfully you squirmed away from him, only to have him pull you closer.

Your head rested against his chest and you could hear a faint purr from the legendary demon hunter. Enjoying the moment, you turned your face into his chest and buried yourself in it.

Dante hugged you and laughed a bit, “Kind of wish you said something sooner, babe…” one of his hands gently ghosted up your back, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You buried your face further into Dante muffling your voice, “Really?”

“Yeah, really…” a fondness laced his voice as he kissed the top of your head gently.

Neither of you is sure how long you stood there holding each other. It felt like an eternity and like no time at all. Eventually, you parted from your embrace.

Dante smiled widely, his eyes full of warm happiness and creased on the edges, “Once we get out here, can I take you out? Like on a date?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Of c-course, Dante…”

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

#dante devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc dante x reader #x reader #reader insert #G/N reader #male reader #female reader #oneshot #fan fiction #dante #I really struggled to like Dante if I'm honest #It took me a while because he was a dick in DMC 3 #but I love him now #he is so precious #he is baby

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elliebean714 · 1 year

Note

Hi! I'm new to ypur blog, but I noticed that you write for certain Bioshock characters- Would it be alright if I asked for some random Atlas fluff, or a cute fluff request with subject delta where he mistakes a female citizen in rapture as a little sister bc of her height and is all 'MUST PROTECT MY BABY' around her?

Thanks so much! Feel free to dm me/send a request to my inbox.

UGGGHHHH I WISH BOTH WERE AN OPTION??? THANK YOU SM FOR REQUESTING BIOSHOCK??? I LOVE YOU FOR THAT???💖💕💘💞💗💘💓 went with delta tho cus bioshock 2 is my favourite of the three+delta is my favourite protagonist, not that the competition was sparse yk? Faceless white guy, awful white guy or father of the decade? Yeah easy choice. Luv em all tho xx kinda diverged from the request a bit hope that's kay♡

I'm Just Short

Subject Delta X Short!F!Reader

Fluff

During-Game

Fire crackled in red barrels and water leaked from the ceilings, occasionally Dr Lambs creepy voice would boom over the screechy intercom.

You were running, being chased by Lambs splicers for rescuing a little sister, almost out of bullets.

Heart pounding in your chest, feeling the ice of the rapture floor against your cut, sore, almost bare feet from how torn and old your shoes were. You ducked behind some cover as more splicers began searching for you. They had you pinned down.

After a few moments of contemplating your options, you hear something heavy thumping around, gunshots, fire, and a Big Daddy's groan.

Oh shit.

Adding a Big Daddy to your list of problems, her options dwindled down significantly. You were not going to even think about trying to kill that thing, you were far too low on ammo and supplies. Not to mention how weak you were, even just against one splicer.

You had to run. He had distracted the splicers chasing you, no-one would notice you disappear. Taking a quick look up you saw the amount of splicers was already down to two or three. You looked for a good, fast path out of there.

Once you found an easily accessible route, you sprinted for it as fast as your legs could carry you. Then you heard the thumping behind you, like the big daddy was running after you.

Panicking, you ran into a room and began barricading the door with anything heavy you could move and searching every nook and cranny as fast as you could for supplies, you were lucky enough to find a first aid kit and a couple of shotgun shells, but nowhere near enough to help with fighting a Big Daddy.

The footsteps get louder and louder as you duck into a corner, hoping the lack of light in the room would make you harder to detect if he managed to get in.

And he did. After a quick push, he easily entered the room and, to your horror, made a beeline right for you. You prepared yourself for the worst, shocked to see him only leave his hand out for you to take.

Unsure of what was happening but with no other options you shakily took his hand. Surprised by his gentle nature when all he did was help you stand. After ensuring you were not injured he picked you up and placed you on his back, like you were a Little Sister.

Before you could protest he was on the move, after a few minutes he dropped you off at a corpse and began laying traps down like he was preparing for something. Confused, you just looted the corpse and stared up at him once you were done. He look down at you like he was waiting for something.

"What? You want me to get Adam from it? I'm not a Little Sister, and I don't have a needle so I couldn't even if I wanted to." You told him, becoming increasingly agitated by his confusion.

When he saw that you weren't harvesting any Adam, he just lifed you up and put you on his back again. This time carrying you towards a Little Sister vent.

Before setting you down he lays his hand over your forehead, like he's rescuing a Little Sister. Once he's done he sets you down safely beside it then stands back like he's waiting for you to climb inside.

"I can't fit, you idiot. I'm not a kid. I'm just short." You tell him.

But he only stares at you patiently. You just sigh and mumble something about him being an idiot then try to fit into the vent. Although you shockingly actually fit through the vent.

"Uggh. What the hell." You grumble before deciding to climb the rest of the way through.

What I Write~

Games

TWD

Dano

Requests Always Open 🌊

~Elliebean714

♤♡◇♧☆♧◇♡♤♡◇♧☆♧◇♡♤♡◇♧☆

#bioshock x reader #bioshock #bioshock 2 x reader #bioshock 2 #subject delta x reader #subject delta

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raestarz · 10 months

Text

Rookie Hour

Chapter Three - Adventures Throughout The Station

A/N: I can’t decide if this chapter is my favorite or two, gonna always tag @neteyamsmunch 💛

Word count: 2.3 k

————————————————————————

Welcome back to our scheduled programming. You guys missed us right? Righttttt. So remember when I asked how bad it could get? Well wouldn’t y’all like to know how we go through the fucking trouble of grabbing the round valve, turning off the burst pipes, and we go through the bathroom down the fucking hall we make a left past some lockers we open the door. We walk down the hall a bit and it’s raining in there due to a broken window, we step forward a bit more and we see this monster with an extremely long ass tongue pick up the zombie's body and consume it. Leon mutters, “What in God’s name…?” We both glance at each other and slowly start to back up, trying to stay as quiet as possible, Leon goes through the door first holding it open for me. I accidentally back into the wall and gasp, the…I don’t even know what to call that muscly shit. Hears me and immediately starts to crawl over, well this is it ladies and gentlemen my death in front of the hottest white cop I’ve ever seen…Don’t tell him that though. But I’m frozen with fear, breaking the one rule Marvin had given to us. I close my eyes ready to accept death, until I feel a gloved hand grab my arm and pull me in. I gasp and open my eyes and it’s Leon, I turn around and look at the door and see large claw marks. Knowing that would’ve been in me if Leon didn’t grab me, Leon looks terrified and hugs me.

“Oh fuck, Kyaire you can’t scare me like that! Are you okay?” Leon holds my face in his hands, his blue eyes full of so much panic and worry. Eyes searching for injuries on me, I shake my head pulling myself out of his grasp clearing my throat, fuck I’m so awkward. “I…I’m okay, Leon. Sorry…I just froze.” I explained slowly, gulping hard as I looked up at him taking a deep breath. “Let’s uhm…keep going?” I suggest softly and Leon blinks a couple of times, while he does that this is one of the moments I wished I was a mind reader…What was he thinking about, he looks like he’s about to speak until he doesn’t and nods. I lick my lips thinking, “How the fuck are we gonna kill that fucker?” Leon shakes his head with a small laugh, “Damned if I know. But we’ll figure it out.” I laugh softly and shake my head, “Alright then.” We eventually continue on finding a detonator without the battery, I stuff that quickly in my pocket after we kill the two zombies that are infiltrating the room we’re in. There must be some explosives around here if there’s a detonator. We eventually travel around taking down more zombies, ending up in the Art Room with a creepy looking statue. I spot a keycard but Leon spots it before me, “Weapons Locker Keycard?” He looks at it confused, and I gasp, “To the Safety Deposit Room!” Leon makes a hand gesture as if to say duh, “Of course it goes there!”

…

We finally got back to the Safety Deposit Room heading to the back of it and Leon inserted the keycard into the weapon’s locker slot opening it to a shotgun and shotgun shells along with a semi-automatic handgun with a laser sight to it. I nearly dropped to my knees in awe, “I call the handgun!” Leon laughs softly and raises a brow, “I’m surprised you didn’t ask for the shotgun.” I roll my eyes and grab the semi-automatic ALFA Combat handgun. “Here’s the thing, Rookie. This handgun is gonna pop those fuckers heads a lot fucking faster than a regular one.” I check the bullets inside of the ten round handgun and click my tongue while Leon grabs the shotgun, slings it over his back while also pocketing the shotgun shells. “That’s if you don’t freeze.” Leon mutters and I immediately give him an icy glare, he puts his hands up, “Sorry…I shouldn’t have said that.” His apologetic eyes nearly make me immediately give in and forgive him. I roll my eyes and give a curt nod, “I’ll show you freeze.” I mutter angrily and take a breath not going to walk away from him, knowing we need each other to survive. So I walk down to the lockers and lean against them waiting for Leon to come on. That fucking cunt talking about if I don’t freeze, he would freeze too if that mutant freak came after him! Ugh fuck! I wanna scream and make the loudest noises ever but I can’t or the zombie fucks will find the source aka me and tear me apart along with pretty boy cop over there. After he reloads the shotgun, he stalks over to me silently, his eyes asking me if I was ready to go and I nod.

Leon and I finally get back to the second floor central area of the police station, entering the password to unlock the medallion for the Lion medallion. Leon grabs it and pockets it quickly, glancing at me to see if I was still upset and I raise a silent brow. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something till he closes his mouth, and we venture forward. I sigh softly and he glances at me, I run my hand through my dreadlocks before speaking. “We should go take out that mutated freak, who might be near our key to get the last medallion.” Leon nods and gives a small smile, “Is this your way of telling me you forgive me?” I roll my eyes, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy.” Leon bites back a smile and nods. We make our way back to the female second floor bathroom, to where we last saw the…shit whatever it is down the hall from the bathroom, Leon takes his shotgun off his back and I pull out both handguns basically dual-wielding fuck I feel like a total badass right now…Not the time to think about this, right now.

Leon and I make eye contact, and we have a silent agreement to tell each other we’re ready. Leon starts to open the door to the hallway and I spot the fucker at the end of the hallway I fire one handgun into the thing and it screams in anger quickly crawling on all fours toward us and Leon uses his shotgun to shoot it into it’s brain, while I take out my semi-automatic handgun quickly laying bullets into it as Leon fires his shotgun into the fucker’s brain we both stand side by side as we take it down, it comes close and it’s large claws are protruding as it strikes. Leon luckily jumps out of the way, me? Ha! Not so fucking lucky, I dodge out of the way but it’s claw strikes from my cheek to my jaw and I’m lucky it’s superficial and doesn’t tear off my fucking face! I must be a main character or some shit, because I should be dead…We eventually, kill the muscular fuck and Leon runs over to me as I clutch my cheek and it’s bleeding. Leon takes out some herbs and a bandage quickly helping me, gently taking my hand away from my cheek. “Oh shit, Leon am I infected? Am I gonna die?” I start to panic, my breath quickening, “No. Shut up, Kyaire I’ve got you.” My eyes start to tear up, and I cry while he bandages my cheek, “It’s superficial, you aren’t gonna die…But it’ll leave hell of a scar.” Leon smiles at me softly, holding my cheek for a moment in his hand. I smile through my tears, “Is it gonna be a hot scar?” Leon nods chuckling. He lets go of my cheek and I wipe away my tears, taking a calming breath and Leon rubs my back gently.

Despite him just having met me, he was so kind and soft to me. He seemed extremely worried about my wellbeing, well of course he was Kyaire he’s a cop. It’s his job to be worried about civilians like me, I sigh and stand up straight. “You alright, Ky?” I nod with a small smile, we go down the hall and see the S.T.A.R.S. office and head into it. We find more gunpowder, meds, and a magnum handgun trapped behind an armory door, I go over to the computer that seems like the key to get into the armory door. And find out we need a S.T.A.R.S. badge to get into the armory locker and grab the magnum. “So, it turns out we need a S.T.A.R.S. badge that turns into a dongle key…You happen to know anyone on the team or where to get one?” Leon looks at me and shrugs, “Beats me. First day on the job, remember?” I smile and shake my head, “Right, forgot sorry…” Leon disappears from my sight as I try to figure out a way to hack into the armory without the dongle key, Leon taps my shoulder and I jump in fright. He holds up a battery, “Still got the detonator?” I nod, “Yeah.” He holds his hand out gesturing to have it, “Can I get it please?” I nod and hand it to him, he puts together the battery and detonator. Now making it well…a detonator, funny how words work ya know?

We make our way around the police station and eventually end up in the West Storage Room where we find out the last medallion is, a whole bunch of zombies are behind a gate with C4 and Leon puts the detonator on the C4 quickly grabbing my hand and going behind a nearby storage box with me, holding me against my chest and I can feel my heart start racing. Yo what the HELL?! No, no no, swallow the feelings Kyaire. The explosion goes off and the zombies die but we hear a quick screech and Leon pushes me ahead, “Go! Grab the last medallion!” I nod and stumble into the area we just exploded and enter the password to unlock the medallion code and grab the Maiden medallion. There we go! Got all three. The Lion, Unicorn, and Maiden. I almost squeal happily until I realize another one of the those fuckers are back and hear Leon fire his shotgun, “Ky! We gotta go!” I nod, pocketing the medallion. “Let’s go!” We both quickly run out of the storage room and Leon slams the door behind him, and we both look at each other panicked. Looking over each to see if either of us are bitten or hurt, and once either of us see the other isn’t hurt we take a breath of relief…What was our dynamic? We’re so fucking weird I don’t have time to dwell on this because…Leon breaks the silence, “You doing okay?” I nod, “Got the last medallion, let’s get Marvin and get outta this hell hole yeah?” Leon nods and we start to walk and make our way back to Marvin.

…

We finally get back to the Goddess statue and I look at Marvin resting on the couch with his eyes closed, I sigh softly and decide to let him rest. Leon grabs my shoulder gently and I turn toward him, he whispers softly, “Come on…The quicker we get out of here the quicker, we can get Marvin the help he needs.” I nod and walk over to the Goddess statue inserting the medallions and parts of the underside of the statue start to turn into something…I finish putting in the medallions and it turns into underground stairs, with a door leading out of the station and underground. Leon walks up and tests the door starting to open it, he speaks as he opens it, “So it goes underground…Huh.” I smile softly at Leon, “That’s it, that’s our way out.” We both look at each other hopefully. I turn, “Lieutenant Branagh! Marvin!” I call out, walking up to the sleeping Lieutenant, Leon walks behind me, “It’s time to go!” He said hopefully and we both looked at each other with a small smile. I walk up and reach out to him, “Hey Marvin…” I spoke softly and Marvin practically growled and lunged at me, Leon put a hand between us and crouched down to the injured officer. My eyes soften and I realize what’s happening to Marvin, he’s dying…Leon speaks to Marvin, “We need to get you to a hospital right now.” Marvin looks disturbed, out of it even and he looks at the both of us, “No, no…I…Save yourselves.”

Leon reaches out to grab the Lieutenant gesturing for me to come help lift him, “Come on, we’ve got you-” Marvin turns away from Leon, “GO!” I step forward trying to remain hopeful despite his dire situation, “Look, we can still make it out of here together, if you just let us-” Marvin grunts and pulls a gun on me, Leon immediately makes a defensive position between us. Marvin looks hopeless and tired, “It’s too late.” His voice is hard and stern, but hopeless knowing this’ll be the end for him. “I tried, Leon…But, I couldn’t stop it. We can’t let this thing spread.” I sigh and close my eyes, “It’s on you two now…Just go!” Marvin continued yelling at us. Leon looks back at me, his eyes asking if I’m okay, I give him a quick nod and he stands up fully. “I understand.” Leon states, and Leon starts to walk away and heading down to the stairs, I purse my lips watching Marvin grunt in pain. “Stay safe, Marvin.” I suggest softly and follow behind Leon. We both go down the stairs and through the door, we watch as the stairs come up behind us.

I can tell this night is nowhere near over for us…

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #re2 leon #resident evil leon #leon x reader #blk reader #slow burn

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saintsir4n · 5 months

Text

10. PEACE OUT

WARNING: VIOLENCE, GUNS, BLOOD AND DEATH

THE god siblings were dropped outside Dom's house by Leon and Letty who sped off. It wasn't long before Mia ran out of the house with Keelie behind her.

Dom ignored the couple and stormed over to the shed.

Keelie took note of their bloody clothes first, then started to ask questions, "Girl, what happened?"

"Oh my god. Are you okay?" Mia panicked.

"Vince's is in the hospital," Carson spoke up, startling them with her raw voice. "But that's not all. It's Brian. He's a cop," their eyes doubled in size, "He lied to me, to all of us. His last name ain't his last name. He lied. He's a fuckin' cop, and I trusted him."

Keelie didn't say anything, no I told you so, nothing at all, instead, she pulled her into a hug.

Mia's heart broke for her godsister, but God was she angry at Brian for doing this to her.

The couple led her back to the house, rubbing her back as she started mumbling about everything, Vince, Jesse and Brian.

"I hate him," Carson said, pacing around the living room, the other two watched her with worry. Vince's blood stained her hands but Brian's betrayal tainted her heart, no it battered it. "We gotta go, we can't stay here," Mia nodded, scattering around trying to grab anything and anything necessary. "Keke, I'm sorry."

Keelie said nothing, aware of what had to happen. They had to leave.

Mia stared at her girlfriend with teary eyes and Keelie tentatively helped her pack.

Carson had her winnings but needed the rest of her money from their apartment and a few clothes before she left, though she needed to know if Jesse was okay. It had been hours since she last saw him and she was so scared that Johnny had got to him first.

Shouting from outside got her attention, she insisted that Keelie and Mia stay inside before she rushed over to the window to see Brian and Dom pointing guns at each other.

"Christ," She ran out of the house.

"Move your car," Dom yelled, cocking his shotgun.

"Dom, stop it! It's over! Please. Let's go," Carson pleaded with him.

Brian glanced over to see her, wishing he could change things.

"Carson, stay out of it!" Dom shouted. Then looked at Brian with hateful eyes, "Move the–"

Carson turned at the sound of a car speeding over and abruptly stopping at the front of the house. It was Jesse.

That made her let out a sigh of relief.

"Jesse!" She exclaimed.

He didn't see her, he just kept rambling as he got out of the Jetta, "Dominic, I am so sorry." he said. "I don't know what I'm doing, Dom. I'm so scared right now. I don't know what's going on."

He looked so terrified.

Dom dropped his weapon and Carson rushed down the steps but remained wary of Brian's gun that was still pointed at her godbrother.

"Jess!" Dom shouted. "What were you thinkin', man?"

"Brian, drop the gun!" Carson yelled before Mia and Keelie stepped out of the house, stunned by the commotion.

"What's going on?" Keelie glared, "Why is the fed here?"

"Jess! Get inside," Carson pleaded, they needed to leave.

"Girls, go inside!" Dom demanded. He never sounded more desperate in his life, "Take Summer with you!"

"I don't know," Jesse cried, "I panicked. I'm sorry. I'm scared, please help me," the sound of motorcycles got Dom's attention, "I don't know what I'm doin'. Will you please help me?!"

Carson's heart dropped after she followed Dom's gaze, seeing the guns that the men were holding and began shooting as they drove by.

bullets fell from the sky drawing screams as everyone tried moving out of the way.

"Sonny!" she faintly heard her name being called as a body dove on top of her, shielding her from the shells aimed at them.

She didn't move, she couldn't not until the motorcyclists were gone.

And once they were, she pushed off Brian's body and shrugged off all his attempts to make sure she was okay.

"Jess?" Carson felt tears fill her eyes as she saw her friend lying on the ground. "Jesse!" she shouted, running over. Dom held onto his fallen friend as she fell onto her knees beside them. "Jesse wake up."

"No, Jesse!" Mia sobbed, Keelie pulled her back, not wanting her to see.

"Please just wake up," Carson pleaded. He didn't have a pulse and wasn't breathing. Just a sack of flesh and bones. Just like how her dad was in that hospital, lying dead in her arms.

She couldn't remember anything after that. Not Brian and Dom speeding away, not Mia's cries, not even when the police and ambulance arrived, taking away Jesse in a body bag.

___

"You're really goin'?" Keelie questioned Carson after they made it back to the apartment.

The racer hadn't spoken since Jesse's death. Not a word. They just got in her Hellcat and drove home. They showered, and Carson had to scrub herself clean of everything, the blood, the horror and the death of not only her friend but the team. Everything had to change, everyone had to scatter.

Her family couldn't stay together and that's what killed her.

"I would take you with me. I can't stay, not here," Carson insisted, throwing some of her stuff in two suitcases and discarding one of Brian's shirts. Keelie promised she would send her the rest of her belongings once she's settled. "You've gotta a business to run and a long-distance relationship to handle."

Keelie shed a tear and pulled her in for a hug. They wouldn't be living or working together anymore. The older woman would miss the sound of her singing badly, doting over stupid crushes and even their silly argument.

It wasn't gonna be the same.

"You better stay in touch," she urged, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Carson chuckled, "With my sister? How could I not."

Her words touched Keelie, "So where are you goin'?" she asked after they made their way out of Carson's room.

"I'll holla at you when I get there," Carson promised, sending her a wink as she picked up her suitcases and bid a quick farewell to the apartment she spent years in. It hurt, but at least she was used to the pain. "I left you somethin' in my room. Use it wisely," she advised, pausing to muster up a grateful smile, "Later girl."

Keelie laughed through her tears as the door slammed shut.

She made her way to Carson's room, which was almost empty, it didn't look right, nothing had in the last 24 hours.

But there, sitting on the bed was a brown paper bag, she moved to see the contents, only to find what had to have been at least a couple of grand. Use this and get a car of your own, the note read making Keelie laugh.

"That bitch," she took the money and counted it, "Thank God for Summer. She's a blessin' in disguise."

Carson put on some black shades, which matched the rest of her attire, not a dash of pink in sight as sped down the highway, with a soft tune playing through her Stereo.

Her cell started to ring and she knew who it was.

Something possessed her to pick it up.

Flipping open her phone, she said, "Yo."

"Sonny tell me where you are," she sighed when she heard the traitor's voice. It had a bit of an edge to it. He sounded upset.

The cheek of him sounded upset when he caused her heart to break.

"And why would I do that? Matter of fact why would I listen to a pig?" she spat, keeping a firm grip on the wheel, eyes darkening at the sight of the gift he brought her. It rested on the dashboard.

Brian bowed his head, "I quit."

"Why?"

"You know why," it was for her, for the team, being on the force didn't feel right, not anymore.

"Well, the damage is already done," she replied, now holding up her phone with her shoulder.

"Please just tell me. I wanna start over, make things right."

She didn't say anything, his voice was so convincing but she couldn't be naive, not again, so instead, she plucked up the sunshine ornament and held it tightly.

He pressed, "Sonny?"

"Nah, I'm too good for you," she knew it and he knew it too. So smiling sadly, she kissed the gift, before throwing it out her window, "Later O'conner."

She hung up before he had a chance to respond and kept driving, she wouldn't stop until she made it to her friend's place in Miami Beach.

Carson turned up the stereo, slyly smirking at the sound of Eve's Let me blow ya mind record.

Initially, she thought Brian would be different, but he was just another guy and she wasn't just any girl. She was different.

But Carson knew she needed to change, to be better.

Her heart wouldn't heal, because grief was destructive. She hoped to find peace, in a different place, a different city, so she would have to find the right path.

Just one-quarter mile at a time.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE END

a/n:

guys i have said a few times that it was only going to be about the first film so don't be mad. even when i started planning it i knew it would be bittersweet. brian and carson's story was cute but he was a liar guys, so no way in hell would i let her end up with him. (if i was continuing the franchise they would've made up by at least the 5th film). carson's on her way to miami beach (where the second film is set lol). she ditched the pink (her car is still pink and black) but she has a new look.

also, check on youtube how many deleted scenes this film has, the original ending was brian going to the house to see mia after quitting his job.

i'll still be posting edits on tiktok's for the story. check out her character profile in my "meet my oc's" book. i might do a few one-shots on tumblr for this story, maybe three parts about this ship, so watch out for that.

i hope you enjoyed this book.

- liv

#wattpad #fanfic #black reader #brianoconnerfanfic #brian o’conner x carson baker #brian o’conner x black!reader #brian o’conner x reader #brian and sonny #brian o’conner #sonnybaker #carsonbaker #y2k #2001 #pink #black racer #stereolove

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herosplatling-replica · 11 months

Text

weathered rifle

monster au (Jeanne POV), 2089 words;

general warnings: blood, violence, profanity, attempted kidnapping

[ A/N: hi, this is probably a little out of nowhere, but i had this monster au drabble written up for a while and wanted to share it :3 hope you enjoy! ]

Bam!

Jeanne gritted her teeth as she pulled the trigger on her old rifle, watching as one of the hunters fell. A perfect shot.

Her daughter sat huddled behind her, covering her sensitive ears with a whine. Jeanne leaned down, gently ruffling Citrine's head as she reached for some more sniper ammo.

"It'll be okay, Rin. Your mama will be here soon, and then… and then everything will be okay. I promise."

Citrine's eyes peeked up at her, brimming with frightened tears. Jeanne's heart twisted at the sight, wanting nothing more than to hold her daughter close and console her - but she didn't have that luxury right now.

Why did it have to be tonight?

Freya was away to visit her mother for a hunt, and she wasn't supposed to be back for a few days. It was supposed to be a peaceful night, just her and her children and the books she wanted to get through - but then she got a panicked phone call from her brother that a hunting party was heading for their house.

Jeanne had dusted off her sniper rifle and dug out her old ammo, even as her children watched her pace anxiously around the house.

She didn't want to have to use her old hunting gear again, but she knew what she had to do. Jeanne had been taught the horrid craft of monster hunting growing up, but she would use it to take down those that threatened her family.

The twins were in the basement, safe with food and water to last them a few days if necessary. When she had left them, Jeanne thought Citrine was safe and sound with her sisters - but it didn't take her long to realize the little half-werewolf followed her to the second floor where she was now stationed to defend their home.

She really wished that Citrine didn't need to see any of this.

This wasn't their first run in with a monster hunting party, but it was the first one where Jeanne was alone to protect them. Normally Freya would be here, making sure nobody got too close to the house. She'd handle the melee combatants while Jeanne would take down anyone armed with silver bullets.

Tonight, though, she was alone. She couldn't tell how long they've been holding out now, but it felt like they kept coming.

Maybe… maybe Father-

No no, she shouldn't get distracted. What her father thought didn't matter. Not tonight. Jeanne reloaded her rifle, looking down the scope as she mumbled a quiet 'cover your ears, Rin,' to her daughter before pulling the trigger again.

Her aim struck true, piercing the shoulder of a hunter armed with a silver dagger. The knife hit the dirt unceremoniously as the hunter screamed, his companions looking around for the source of the gunfire. Jeanne ducked her head, counting the bullets she had left.

I'm running out. After this I just have some shotgun shells, and then…

"Mama, why are they here?" Citrine bubbled out, nearly curled up into a ball on the floor. "What do they want?"

Jeanne hesitated, gnawing at the inside of her lip. She peeked over the window again, watching for the hunters. "...they don't like people that are different, Rin. People like your mama, they try to seek them out to get rid of them."

"But… why?"

"Cover your ears, sweetheart."

Citrine did, just as Jeanne fired another piercing bullet at the hunters. This time, she hit two in the leg.

"In there!" One of the hunters shouted, making Jeanne's blood run cold. "They're in there, get them!"

"Shit- Citrine honey, you need to hide."

"What?! I don't want to leave you--!" The half-werewolf yelped in protest as Jeanne scooped her up with an arm, leaving the sniper rifle at the window as she ran towards the closet. "Mama!"

"You know what to do. I can handle myself, pumpkin, but you need to hide so that way your sisters have somebody to look after them. Okay?" She leaned forward and kissed her daughter's forehead, wiping away Citrine's tears with a hand. "I'm doing this for your sake."

Citrine sniffled quietly, nodding as she curled up in the closet. Thankfully she blended in with the piles of clothes rather easily. "O-okay…"

"That's my girl. I'll be back. Cover your ears and don't come out."

Jeanne shut the door, rolling her arm out as she opened a weathered gun case. She could hear the hunters downstairs trying to break in, but the door would hold out a while longer.

...Freya, I'm scared.

The ex-hunter steeled herself as she picked up her old shotgun, loading the shells in while she still had the chance. The twins in the basement thankfully were hidden in a secure place with a passcode, but Jeanne was more worried about Citrine than anything else. If the hunters got past her, there was no telling what they'd do to her daughter.

Jeanne gritted her teeth, her hands shaking slightly as she gripped her shotgun. She could hear them walking around downstairs now.

"Come oooout," one of the hunters almost sang, the sound of a blade scraping along the floor resounding as they searched.

The stairs creaked, making Jeanne tighten her hold on the shotgun's trigger.

"We know you're in here, wolfy," another hunter called out. "Just save us the trouble and show yourself."

They were right outside.

Not yet.

The door knob turned, the sound of a blade being drawn.

"Get the fuck out of my house," Jeanne bit out, pulling the trigger the instant the door opened. She could hear one of the hunters scream, reeling back and falling into one of their allies. "I said get OUT!"

"You- you fucking traitor!" A gruff voice spat at her, a hand rocketing out of the darkness coming for Jeanne.

Without hesitation, she fired again, wincing at the sound of cracking bones. I need to reload, but-

A desperate yell rang out, and suddenly Jeanne was on the floor.

Shit shit shit-

There was a hand at her throat and a knee in her side. Jeanne forced her eyes open, finding the silver glint of a knife by her cheek.

"So, you're the hunter that went rogue," the hooded figure over her said, pressing the knife to her face. "We were wondering how one of those mutts were supposed to fire guns. Turns out it's just a bratty little human."

Jeanne gritted her teeth, clawing at the hand at her neck. She felt a sting of pain at her face, the knife running down along her jawline.

This fucking hunter-

"Ah ah ah. Cut that out. We've got a bounty on everyone in this house, and that includes you. They wanted you preferably alive, but that doesn't mean we have to adhere to that. Capisce?"

"I'm the- the only one here," Jeanne managed, trying to swallow. She just had to hold out a bit longer. Just a bit-

A ferocious howl shook the earth, the walls of the house rattling as someone - Freya - bounded up the stairs, bowling over the hunters still at the door to the room.

The grip at her neck slacked, then tightened as the hunter that had Jeanne pinned down readjusted their grip to hold her hostage, the knife tip pointed to her neck.

"LET HER GO, NOW!" Freya bellowed, easily tossing the rest of the hunters over the railing and down the stairs. The werewolf wiped at her maw, smearing the blood away.

"Easy," the hunter murmured. "You show me where the rest of your family is, and I'll let her go."

"Freya, don't-" A gloved hand covered her mouth, muffling her words. Don't- don't fall for it!

"Tick tock, wolfy. Which is it? Little Red here or your family?"

A door creaked open.

Citrine.

The half-werewolf charged at the hunter, her fangs piercing the hand that held the knife as she pulled their arm back.

"Citrine!" Freya shouted, bounding over to the three of them as the grip on Jeanne's throat loosened just enough to let the ex-hunter slip out of their grasp.

Jeanne felt the rush of her wife's fur bounding overhead, the werewolf tackling the hunter and ripping the silver knife out of their hand.

"Shi-"

"Citrine, cover your ears!" Jeanne shouted again, trying to get up but finding she had no strength in her legs.

The little werewolf complied, snarling as she dug her teeth in the hunter's arm with a shake. The hunter screamed, trying to unlatch Citrine's jaw from their arm to no avail.

Freya patted their daughter's ears back, murmuring something quiet to the girl. Hesitantly, she let go of the hunter's arm and scurried to get behind her werewolf mother.

"Listen. You're going to go back to whoever sent you, and you're going to tell them you didn't find shit. You're lucky you got inside in the first place. You're going to be even luckier to get out in one piece." Freya's voice growled, picking up the hunter roughly. "I never want to see your face here again. Understand?"

Jeanne could hear the hunter bubble anxiously in response before her wife rushed out the window, throwing them into a tree from the sound of it.

"AND THE REST OF YOU! GET THE HELL OUT!" Freya howled out, her words followed by the noise of startled men running downstairs.

Are we safe?

Jeanne felt like she couldn't catch her breath. She laid her head back down on the floor, wheezing quietly as the last of the hunters left.

Gentle arms picked her up, caressing Jeanne’s hair lightly. She felt a puff of warm air and her wife’s tongue lap at her cut cheek.

“I think I’m okay,” Jeanne murmured. She could feel her wife’s snout sniffing over her in a panic, holding her close. “The twins, they should still be in the basement…”

“The basement’s secure. I’m more worried about you,” Freya huffed, a whine building in her chest. “You alright? That knife wasn’t poisoned, was it?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m just… really glad you’re here.” Jeanne could feel a slight sting in her face as the cut sealed itself. She found enough strength in her to wrap her arms around her wife’s neck, burying her face in Freya’s fur. “I’m glad…”

“Mama?” Citrine asked, concern clear in her voice.

“Mama’s alright, honey. She just needs to rest a bit, okay?” Freya said gently, leaning down to let the little werewolf climb onto her back. “Let’s go check on your sisters.”

“Okay,” Citrine mumbled, her head peeking over Freya’s shoulder to nuzzle into Jeanne’s head.

Jeanne couldn’t help but laugh quietly, releasing a hand to gently smooth out her daughter’s hair as Freya brought them downstairs. “You were so brave, sweetheart. But… hopefully you won’t ever need to do that again.”

“Yeah, holy crap. Have your teeth gotten longer since the last full moon, Rinny?” Freya asked, her ears flicking inquisitively.

Their daughter shrugged, opening her mouth. The canines certainly seemed a bit elongated, at least from Jeanne’s perspective. She relayed this to Freya, who laughed boisterously. “That’s good! That’s good, you’ll need those to protect your little sisters!”

Citrine cheered in response, though Jeanne could tell the night wore on her. She felt tired herself - it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to just sleep in the basement until morning. Her brother promised to come by in the morning to set up new defenses, and she knew the girls would love to see their favorite uncle Jules again.

Freya huffed quietly, leaning to give Jeanne a kiss on the forehead as she unlocked the door to the basement. “You sure you’re alright..?”

“I am now,” Jeanne responded, pressing a kiss to her wife’s muzzle. She chuckled as she spotted Freya’s tail wag slightly, never tiring of her wife’s antics.

“You’re gonna take it easy tonight. Mom’s gonna help me clean up and get the blood out of the hardwood later. I’ll clean a bit too then be right back, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Girls, be kind to mama. She’s tired,” Freya said as she laid Jeanne down on a comfortable sofa they brought down to the basement. Immediately their three daughters were around her, sniffing quietly.

…I don’t want her to go yet.

“Freya, um…”

“Mhm?”

“Can… you stay here a little longer? At least until Idunn arrives?” Jeanne asked, her face tinged red.

Freya blinked once, then smiled at her in that charming roguish way that Jeanne adored. “Of course, hon.”

#my writing #lesbian #monster au #werewolf #werewolf oc #freyanne #freya #jeanne #citrine #drabble #werewolf yuri

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