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kurooh · 8 months ago

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DOUBLE FANTASY ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring threesomes with gojo satoru + geto suguru, nanami kento + higuruma hiromi, shiu kong + fushiguro toji, tsukumo yuki + kamo choso.

warnings. 18+ content �� mdni, f! reader, threesomes, oral [m&f rec], spit roasting, double penetration, some degradation, choking, rough sex, squirting, sharing a cigarette, spit, clit slaps. | 4.5K words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. comment & rb if you enjoyed <3 !

GOJO & GETO.

perhaps letting your two roommates take care of you after a messy breakup wasn’t a good idea—or is it? less than an hour ago, you’d come home sobbing, cheeks wet with tears and eyes puffy.

satoru and suguru had pulled you into a tight hug, internally thankful you’d broken things off with that asshole (they’d hated when he would come around) but also sympathetic towards you. it was a tough choice, which was then promptly celebrated over margaritas and shots on the couch. one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were pressed flush against suguru’s strong chest, body sweltering with need hotter than a fire.

“s-sugu, i don’t think you can both fit inside.”

“not with that attitude, sweetheart,” suguru murmurs, hands settling on your hips as he places a small kiss to your cheek. “come now, anything’s possible if you believe in it.”

“bleh, you sound like confucius,” satoru fake gags dramatically, lining his cock up with his best friend’s. their sticky tips prod at your folds, and your heart races faster, rattling around in your ribcage so loudly you can hear it in your ears. although you’re a little nervous, the alcohol you’ve had helps to take the edge away; you impatiently wiggle your hips forward.

“i’m sorry . . ? do you even know who confucius is?” suguru asks incredulously, flicking his bangs to the side with a jerk of his head.

“i’ve seen you read enough of—”

“don’t do this right now,” you plead, voice whiny. “just fuck me already.”

“now, honey. you’ll have plenty of time to slut yourself out for us, don’t you worry.”

“nah, she’s right,” satoru quips, wrapping his hand around their cocks. suguru inhales sharply, unintentionally jerking his hips forward for more. “you ready for us, babe?”

you nod weakly, and the three of you moan in unison as satoru pushes their cocks inside you. it’s slow at first, but the stretch is one that you’ll remember for a lifetime—the burn of being split open on two cocks melts into something euphoric as each inch passes your entrance. satoru groans hungrily, his head falling back. snowy tufts of hair obscure his diamond blue eyes that he tightly squeezes shut, and a huff of breath leaves his lips.

suguru kisses your jaw, fingers trailing along the slopes of your body before finally sweeping over the delicate skin of your throat. you breath hitches when he whispers into your ear: “we’d always hear you begging to be choked harder. don’t you remember that, satoru?”

“hngh, yeah,” he swallows hard at the memory—he and his best friend always heard everything through those paper thin walls. they’d heard your dissatisfaction and vowed to satiate you someday. “and you’d always be going deeper, deeper!”

your cheeks burn with embarrassment. had your roommates really heard everything? how did they face you so easily in the morning after being kept awake each night?

“we’ll give you everything, sweetheart.”

suguru squeezes your throat experimentally, and the corners of his lips lift when you release a moan you’d been holding back for far too long. he and his best friend slowly start to move, rocking their hips into you and developing a smooth tempo.

“both of you are so fucking big,” you mewl, back bowing off of suguru’s chest. they’re filling you up and stretching you out and just as you think it can’t get any better, satoru’s nimble fingers wander to your clit. he curiously toys with it, eyes darkening lustfully once you react how he’d been hoping you would.

“perfect size just for you,” suguru coos, yanking you down by the throat. “satoru, spank her a little.”

he obliges, reading his best friend’s mind easily—a stinging slap lands on your clit, sending prickling shocks of pleasure through your body. the tips of their cocks kiss your cervix, pushing so deep you can’t seem to breathe. satoru gifts your swollen, sensitive clit with slap after slap; the force behind each one only increases until you’re crying freely.

but you’re not begging him to stop, you’re begging him for more.

“god, i always knew you were a fucking slut,” satoru chokes out, pausing to lick some of your slick off his palm. your stomach flips around at the simple action, something hot flashing through you when he closes his eyes momentarily and savors the taste. “finally . . got you to myself.”

then he looks at suguru, who rolls his eyes. “well, for the most part.”

“no need to sound so excited,” he deadpans, huffing beneath you. “as if you’d fuck any better than that damn ex boyfriend.”

satoru scoffs in disbelief, slapping your clit with renewed strength. his hips are still moving, still burying his cock and suguru’s inside you deeper. they’ve got you entirely stuffed—maybe this would be better than some turkey on thanksgiving. your clit throbs with each punishing slap, but your eyes still roll back each time. while they bicker, your oxygen deprived brain spins with arousal and tipsiness. you shudder, going still and barely even managing to warn them of what’s about to happen.

“fuck, i’m gonna—‘m cumming,” you sob, sounding fragile just before you’re about to break. flashes of heat chase their way through you, until they finally explode out of you, in the form of a soaking orgasm. out of patterned habit, satoru’s palm smacks your puffy clit, which only prolongs your intoxicating high further. the intense contractions inadvertently push their cocks a few inches out of you, and your cum splashes on their skin, eliciting pleased groans from them both.

“baby, did you just—”

“she did, satoru,” suguru confirms, biting back a moan.

“i don’t even—i don’t know what happened,” you pant, hissing when someone’s tip bumps against your twitching clit.

“‘s called squirting,” satoru supplies, entranced as he stares at your messy cunt. a mixture of slick and cum coats your inner thighs, and he can’t help but swipe a finger across your skin and then stick it into his mouth. he releases it with a pop, and eyes suguru knowingly.

his voice is now raspy, thick with desire. “let’s make it happen again, sweetheart. we can take turns, of course. but my face comes before satoru’s.”

NANAMI & HIGURUMA.

the smooth oak wood surface of higuruma’s desk is littered with papers hastily swept to the side, and the fabric of your skirt fans out over a few of them. pens and other stationary supplies are forgotten on the floor, along with your now wrinkled blouse.

“h-holy shit—‘romi, right there! just like that.”

“one can only hope that this’ll be enough luck to carry us through the trial,” higuruma grunts, nails digging crescent shaped indents into the fat of your ass. he’s gripping you tightly, chest heaving rapidly as he vigorously fucks his cock deeper.

“ah, hiromi,” nanami huffs, pushing a few stray hairs away from his forehead. they’d escaped their neatly gelled place on his head when the three of you had rushed into higuruma’s office to discuss the final procedures before your trial. “don’t be a downer . . . this is more than lucky. we’ll win, of course.”

you sob, clawing at higuruma’s shoulders. he’d discarded his suit jacket long ago, carefully folded it on one of his bookshelves so as not to ruin the cuffs and smoothness of the fabric. now, he’s rolled the sleeves of his white shirt all the way up to his elbows, and his loosened black tie swings in your face with each of his thrusts.

“wait, hiromi,” your clammy hand pushes against his stomach insistently, “s-slow down, it’s too much, i—”

higuruma looks toward nanami for instruction, and the latter simply pauses stroking his cock. he stands, pushing back the spinning chair he’d been sitting on, and steps toward the edge of the desk. a sheen of sweat covers your forehead and disrupts the smoothness of your makeup, but nanami doesn’t take much pity on you—instead, he lightly slaps your cheek.

“need me to show you too much, angel?” his voice is low and dark, words laced with a throaty rasp that has your pussy squeezing higuruma’s cock. nanami’s eyebrow raises as he pushes your thighs apart to take a look at the mess between them.

“seems to me like she wants you to,” higuruma nods toward your pussy, then loosens his tie and collar further. “after my turn, of course.”

nanami grunts in agreement, settling on the edge of the desk beside your head instead of the chair. the desk creaks weakly from the newly added weight, and for a moment the idea of it collapsing beneath the three of you crosses your mind. higuruma snaps his hips forward, unconsciously licking the sweat away from his upper lip when he starts up.

your hand lamely pushes against his stomach again, but he shakes his head and nanami reacts immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and slamming your hand down on the wood. whimpers leave your lips and the air is punched out of your lungs with each of higuruma’s strong thrusts; he’s so deep you can practically feel him in your chest.

“ken, i need—my clit,” you gasp, back bowing off the desk fruitlessly. your hips twist and jerk away from higuruma’s cock, for fear of being split open. “touch my clit, i need to cum—”

nanami slaps your cheek again, and your eyes roll back at the penalizing sting. “hiromi, you hear that? she wants to cum.” he mocks your words, then turns back to you, hazel eyes burning holes into your own. “and how do good girls ask to cum, baby? certainly not the way you just did.”

“‘m sorry,” you mewl, and higuruma slaps your clit and makes you shudder. “p-please, i wanna cum for you—i’ve been a good girl!”

“hm, hiromi? you think she’s been a good girl?”

you look up at higuruma pleadingly, tears gathered in your lashes and sparkling in the light. you’ve got that blissed out and dumb look on your face, completely at peace with being thrown around and shared between them.

“sluts take it,” he groans, teeth sinking into his lower lip hard. he yanks your body closer, further bullying his cock inside you. “‘nd you’ve been running from me—isn’t that right, babygirl?”

nanami clicks his tongue, and pinches one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he looks down at you nicely, cheeks pink and hair mussed.

“maybe i’ll let you cum when it’s my turn,” he huffs, a small smile playing on his lips when you weakly moan his name as if he’ll give you permission. “for now, you’ll have to beg. now, go on and open wide, baby.”

the moment your lips part, nanami spits onto your tongue; he watches you expectantly and nodding in acceptance when you swallow, drunk on the taste of his peppermint gum.

“that’s right,” higuruma backs him up, looking down his nose at you expectantly. “speak now or forever hold your orgasm, sweetheart.”

TOJI & SHIU.

“so, princess, still up for lunch later?” shiu grunts around a chuckle, passing the lit cigarette to toji. the latter accepts it with a scoff, rolling his jade green eyes as he sticks it between his lips.

“yes,” you and toji answer at the same time, but your voice is muffled on shiu’s cock.

toji gifts your ass with a slap and exhales the smoke, handing the cigarette back to shiu with a glare. his once stagnant hips begin to move again, almost as if he’s rejuvenated from his little smoke break. shiu only laughs, cupping the crown of your head in order to ease his cock further down your throat.

“i’m surprised you’ve got the money for that, toji,” shiu teases, exhaling sharply when the tip of his cock bumps into your uvula and makes you gag. your throat constricts around his length and you let out a muffled whine in reaction to the stretch.

“you crazy or sum’n?” toji snaps, choosing to argue with his best friend while he’s balls deep inside you. his harsh thrusts make your pussy squelch, and shiu’s cum from earlier spills out onto the bedsheets below. “of course i’ve got the fuckin’ money for lunch, but you’re gonna be the one paying, dumbass.”

his fingers find your swollen clit and he pinches it, making you gasp around shiu’s cock. you choke, gagging so hard tears pool in your eyes—shiu strokes your head comfortingly as you pull off his cock, coughing hard.

“you okay, babygirl?” and he looks at toji disapprovingly, but he only continues to fuck you. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix lightly with each thrust, and when he feels like he’s not going deep enough, he lifts your hips to pull you back. “toji, that was mean.”

“mean . . ? shiu, my girl can fuckin’ handle it. ain’t that right, baby?” he looks to you for confirmation, quirking a brow while the scarred corner of his lip curves into a smirk.

this whole mess had started when you’d spent a night in with toji, watching movies and taking shots every now and then. you’d gotten drunk, swaying on your feet and giggling as you’d pointed to the tv screen dazedly.

“oh, toji, look! that guy looks like shiu!”

he could see the resemblance, and grunted, “damn, he does. ugly just like him too.”

“shiu isn’t ugly!” you jumped up drunkenly to defend his best friend’s appearance, waving your arms around dramatically. “he’s very good looking, actually.”

“oh, really? he doesn’t have any muscle, though.”

“toji, don’t be silly,” you laughed at your boyfriend, “‘course he does, it’s just under all those clothes of his. if he took ‘em off, you’d know what i mean!”

“so you got a crush on shiu?” toji asked in disbelief, his cheeks flaring a deeper pink as he took another vodka shot. “aw, i should let him know.”

one thing led to another, and shiu had come over for breakfast. then your little crush had gotten out, and a bet was placed—who could fuck you better? the condition for the loser was then set in place: whoever lost would buy lunch for the three of you without question.

“y-yeah, toji,” you mumble, forehead pressing into shiu’s pelvis weakly. he’d been the first to fuck you, and now it’s toji’s turn with your pussy—you’re sure you won’t walk smoothly ever again.

“can’t hear you,” toji taunts, lifting your hips and yanking you back onto his cock. the new angle forces him deeper, stretching your cunt out even further. “wanna repeat that for me, doll?”

“ngh, f-fuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back. his cock slams into that sweet, sensitive spot that’s deep inside you, and the tears that had been building in your eyes finally pour down your cheeks. the mascara and eye makeup you’d worn for the breakfast smears against shiu’s skin and makes messy tracks down your face. he curiously slips a finger beneath your chin to make you look up at him.

“aw, baby. i really can’t wait to hear who fucked you better . . . my back certainly wasn’t cracking as much as his is.”

“shut it, shiu,” toji groans, savoring the broken moans that freely leave your lips—gasping ah’s and whines that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “hand me the fuckin’ cig.”

shiu obliges, chuckling softly when he notices you pawing around his thighs in search of his cock. you whimper when you finally get his tip back in your mouth (with his guidance), slowly taking him in inch by inch. he groans, tossing his head back when he finally bumps into the back of your throat.

“m-mind if i fuck your mouth, doll face?” he asks, thighs twitching expectantly. a vein in toji’s forehead bulges at the way he steals his pet name for you.

you shake your head shyly, blinking slowly while toji fucks every single thought out of your head. he’s deliberately holding himself back so you’ll go dumb on his cock, unable to scream anything but his name. yes, this is how he’ll show shiu who can fuck—show him that you’re his girl, his doll face.

tendrils of smoke waft over your break before dissipating in the air as if they were never there. you shudder as toji’s fingers reach your clit, rubbing sloppy circles on the sensitive nub even though your hips rear away. you still haven’t recovered from the overstimulation shiu caused with both his tongue and fingers, but that’s okay. he’ll have you cumming on his cock regardless.

with a deep groan, shiu cups the back of your head to keep you steady, and he shoves his hips forward, his cock slamming far down your throat. you gag, but he’s merciless—doesn’t give you more than a second to breathe before he’s at it again, setting a brutal pace that matches toji’s.

“ugh, fuck—want ya to cum on this cock for me, doll,” he groans, starting to slap his fingers against your clit. your legs kick out in reaction, and you hump your hips back against his hand. toji’s fucked you so hard you can’t even feel shiu’s cum dripping out of you anymore; he’s seconds away from replacing it with his own thick load and having you hold it inside you during lunch.

you nod dumbly on shiu’s cock, starting to sob louder as your own orgasm hurtles toward you. the high is absolutely inescapable, and your watery eyes meet shiu’s when you tip your head up. to the best of his abilities, he’s sweetly talking you through it, his words jumbled although you manage to hear a few clearly.

“how ‘bout we all cum together?” he suggests, wiping a stray tear from your face with the pad of his thumb as if he wasn’t the one that caused it.

“whatever, just as long she does first,” toji warns, his husky voice carrying a tenderness that only you can hear. “got that, shiu?”

like a cheshire cat, he smiles in response, sticking the worn down cigarette between his lips. he takes a drag and thrusts as deeply as he can go before holding your head down at his pelvis. you can hear his quiet moan beneath the clapping of skin against skin and all the other noise; his cock shoots ribbons of white down your throat and he shudders when you swallow it all eagerly, looking up at him for more.

toji throbs against your cervix, and he grabs your asscheek in one of his hands to tug and slap at. “‘m gonna cum, shit . . . wouldn’t ever wanna cum outside of this pretty pussy.”

his fingers work your clit until you’re arching your back and crying out, gushing on toji’s cock with no end in sight. wetness sprays against his pelvis and abs, and he groans, fucking you through it.

“such a mess, doll,” he groans, slipping a hand around your throat and pulling you off shiu’s cock. he instead pins you against his muscular chest, looking over your shoulder through hooded eyes at shiu, who hasn’t gone soft yet. “fuckin’ love it, though.”

toji places a few wet kisses to your neck, moving close to your ear. “so, doll face? where’s lunch gonna be? shiu’s treat, of course.”

YUKI & CHOSO.

“c’mon, you don’t really plan to just sit and watch us, do you?” yuki pushes her blonde bangs away from her forehead with an enchanting smile playing on her lips. she playfully tilts her head to the side, eyeing choso and his seated form.

“well, i . . . you said you’d teach me,” he offers lamely, his reddened cheeks only darkening. he catches your eyes on him too and awkwardly crosses his legs, trying to hide the tent in his pants.

when you’d finally had enough of your boyfriend’s ineducable inexperience, you’d decided to bite the bullet and ask your best friend. yuki had been receptive from the start, her eyes gleaming while you’d explained the situation to a willing choso.

“oh, you won’t learn anything from over there,” she laughs, waving him over to the empty space beside her on the bed. “y’know, sex is pretty hands on.”

choso settles beside her, and the bedframe creaks as it accommodates the new weight. his fingers are trembling as they brush over the tender skin of your inner thighs, and his eyes widen when they come close to your dripping pussy. slick is smeared all over your skin and shining in the low light, utterly enticing to the both of them.

yuki spreads your legs further, and you draw in a sharp breath, lower lip slipping between your teeth.

“come closer,” she coos, pointing at your clit with a smirk. “that’s her clit . . . ‘s the secret to the female orgasm, choso. go on, give her a lick.”

without question, choso adjusts himself so he’s on his stomach, and he experimentally licks your clit. his silky tongue is flexed and nervous, dipping down further to taste the wetness trickling from your slit.

“f-fuck, choso,” you cry, insides lurching deliciously at the feeling. one look at yuki—her cheeks are colored pink, tongue unconsciously darting out occasionally to sweep over her lower lip—and another at choso, whose movements are gradually becoming more insistent, has a sweltering heat coiling deep in your stomach.

your hips jerk forward, pelvic bone nearly nailing him in the bridge of his nose, and choso’s head rears back in concern. “‘m sorry, are you—”

“our girl’s loving it,” yuki hisses, not even missing a beat as she cups the crown of his head, manicured nails digging into your boyfriend’s scalp as she forces his head back down. he doesn’t resist, letting out a muffled moan when his face lands directly in your pussy. slick smears across the lower half of his face and he feels the saliva pool on his tongue from how hungry he is.

choso’s nose bumps into your swollen clit, and a pitched whine tears from your throat. “need—i need more, please,” yuki settles onto her stomach beside choso, palm leaving his head. her fingers impatiently push past his chin, stroking lightly against your dripping pussy, and she quietly moans in delight.

you watch slack jawed as yuki pushes her fingers into her mouth, and her eyes squeeze shut. her hips grind against the bed, sheets rustling softly beneath her body. choso’s too caught up to notice, dark strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“cho—ah, shit—use your fingers, baby.”

your boyfriend obliges obediently, carefully pushing his fingers inside you and tugging back to let yuki take over with her mouth.

that heat inside you ignites into an inferno the second her mouth finds your clit. her lips lightly wrap around it and her tongue sweeps over the swollen bud; to tease you a little further, she lets her teeth occasionally nibble at it.

“this what you wanted?” choso pants, voice lilting curiously as his eyes rake over your body. he’s always been rather shameless when it comes to looking you over, but after this, he’ll finally be able to back it up with a hundred percent. the heave of your chest and parting of your bitten lips is enough of an answer, but he wants to hear it from you. his fingers curl inside you, pressing into a spot that scratches the unbearable itch in your brain perfectly.

“y-yes, cho!” and you’ve got stars in your eyes, feeling an unfamiliar pressure straining in your lower abdomen. “wanna—wanna cum on your face, please.”

“you heard her,” yuki quirks a brow, thumb working your clit in place of her tongue. she’s got a wildness in her eyes, with the lower half of her face sticky like choso’s. “let’s make our pretty girl cum together, hm?”

choso flushes all the way to his neck but nods, his two fingers pushing deeply over and over. a small sting accommodates the stretch, but is quickly forgotten when their faces push against one another’s in their rush for a taste. your slick is sweet like ambrosia, and they’re far too greedy to take turns with your cunt.

your clammy fingers push into yuki’s flowing tresses, while your other hand cups the crown of choso’s head and pushes him impossibly closer. her moans are softer than his as she finds your clit again, licking desperately, almost as if she’s begging you to cum.

meanwhile, choso places a hand above your pelvic bone, palm pressing into the soft skin—you’d mentioned that fingering wasn’t fingering without that small detail and he hasn’t forgotten it since—and it’s becoming difficult to breathe without panting. whiny moans fill the spaces in between your babbled words of bliss, and yuki knows that she won’t be able to get enough of you once this is over.

“ooh, fuck,” you sob, nearly choking on your words when your back uncontrollably arches off the bed. your fingers tighten in her hair and your nails scratch against choso’s scalp, making a mess of his once neatly tied buns. “yuki, ‘m so close, can’t hold it—”

she’d known what had been coming the moment you’d asked for choso’s fingers. she’s unable to stop herself from smiling against your clit, and choso’s tongue bumps into her own as he fights for a piece of you too. he’d initially been all for this so he could learn how to make you tick, what you really meant when you’d beg for his mouth.

his skin is hot as it pushes against hers, their cheeks puffing up a little as they fight for dominance over your clit. they’re shaking their heads all too much, and choso’s grunting while yuki does too, sending vibrations through your already sensitive clit. that pressure burns through your body, and your legs begin to tremble on either side of them as it grows more intense.

“hmph—cum for us, pretty girl.”

similarly, choso tugs away for a moment and lets out a huff, pressing down hard while his fingertips push into your sweet spot, “let us taste it, baby.”

their simple words do the trick, and with a gasp, your pussy begins to gush waterfalls right onto their faces. yuki eagerly slurps up the slick and cum from your cunt, with no regard for the way it’s still fluttering sensitively. choso barely gets a taste, only getting the tip of his tongue wet, and he pulls back with an annoyed scoff.

“yuki, that’s—”

“y-yuki!” you interrupt, voice breaking as you pathetically try to writhe away from her. with choso sitting back, she’s able to grab you by the hips and drag you close, insistently licking you through the dizzying high. “‘s too much, wait—choso!”

“yuki,” he scolds with a shake of his head, but makes no move to pull her away. honestly, if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to. “that’s no fair, i didn’t even get a taste. and she’s my girl.” choso’s words are pointed and a little whiny, and yuki just rolls her eyes.

“then come here ‘n try again. just look at her, she’s dying for more . . aren’t ya, pretty?”

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dollishmehrayan · 3 months ago

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# “I NEED YOUR LOVING, LIKE THE SUNSHINE, EVERYONE’S GOT TO LEARN SOMETIME.” ── .✦ ( batboys when they have a crush on you ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: yes this is based off that one korgis song and if you know it, your elite marry me immediately anywayss I need like more cute events to do omgg and guys I’m going to look for a new divider edition but the bunny will always stay don’t worryyy tags: (batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s so obvious. Everyone knows. Even villains probably know, even you probably know but we always play hard to get. (that’s js me sorry)

Overly casual compliments: “Wow, you look… good. Like, really good. Is that new? No? I just never noticed how great you always look??”

Purposely hangs around you way more than necessary. “Oh wow, fancy seeing you here again... at this coffee shop... at this exact time... for the fifth time this week…”, “uh.. sure okay dick.”

Gets physically flustered. You smile at him and he bumps into a wall.

Brings you little gifts like coffee, snacks, or something you mentioned once two months ago that he totally remembered.

Accidentally lets it slip to Barbara. You find out two days later because she’s evil (and supportive). GIRL BOSSSSS

RASON RODD (IF YKYK) ── .✦

Denies it to everyone. Even himself. “Me? Crushing? Pfft. Please. I'm just being nice. I’m always this nice. Shut up.”

Acts all chill and tough but turns into a sarcastic teddy bear when you're around.

Tries not to care but notices everything about you like when you’re tired, upset, or need space.

Gets really protective, then downplays it. “Yeah I threatened that guy because he was being annoying. Not because he was flirting with you. Nope.” ( our little nonchalant guy )

Will read/watch your favorite stuff in secret so he can talk about it with you, then pretends he hated it. “No, I didn’t like it. But the plot twist in episode 7 was wild. Just sayin’.”

Probably punches a wall the first time someone calls him out. Literally everyone in the family: “Just ask them out already.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Has a million tabs open on “how to tell if someone likes you back.”

Obsesses over every text you send. Sends a reply. Deletes it. Writes a better one. Deletes that too. Eventually sends “lol yeah same” and regrets it instantly.

Runs into you and forgets how to function for 3 seconds. “Hey—hi—hey. Sorry. I mean. Hello.”

Will research your interests so he can impress you or casually bring them up. “Oh, you’re into ___? I read a couple papers about that, super cool stuff.”

Accidentally calls you “cute” in passing, then vanishes for two days to a point you wonder if he might appear on the missing website thing.

You find out he has a playlist called “maybe someday” and the first song is something painfully romantic.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends he doesn’t like you. Like, aggressively. But it’s so obvious.

Gives you weirdly thoughtful gifts and says things like, “I noticed you were using inferior supplies.”

Blushes if you compliment him. Denies he’s blushing. “Tt. The temperature is simply warm.”

Subtly changes his schedule to be around you more. He’ll be in the library when you’re there, in the gym at the same time it’s definitely not a coincidence (even though he insists it is).

Draws you. Like, sketches. Constantly. Says it’s “for anatomy practice.”

Acts annoyed when you talk to someone else, then pouts in a corner like a feral cat.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

He doesn’t even realize it at first. It hits him out of nowhere, like genuinely out of thin air.

Brooding increases by 200%. He stares off into space, thinking about you, and Alfred has to snap him out of it.

Becomes awkwardly formal. “Would you… perhaps… like to join me for dinner? I understand if that’s… inconvenient.” ( like despite being a former player and all and smoothhh as hell when he genuinely likes someone he can’t be smooth, your like his Andrea beaumont but if they worked out )

Totally asks Alfred for advice. Alfred gives him the same advice he gave him at 16.

When you smile at him, he short-circuits a little. You get a rare, soft Bat-smile in return.

Once he’s sure of his feelings, he’s all in but oh boy, it takes a while.

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shy9-29 · 7 months ago

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Crossroads Romance | p.hs 🩰

pairing: park sunghoon x reader 𐙚🧸ྀི

wc: 19.7k

synopsis: after disappearing for two years, Sunghoon finally comes back as stunning as ever. Rumour has it he has a new girlfriend?

warning: not proof read! p in v, oral f receive, kissing, skin-ship, a bit of reader x heeseung, sexting, masturbating, makeup s.x, angst, smut, degrading, praising, sunghoon being just too perfect

mdni.

During the first two years of university, you had an amazing time. You became very popular, never missed a class, and received daily confessions from boys. Safe to say you were the making campus’ “it�� girl.

While your friends were busy dating and having relationships, you were focused on your studies. You didn’t have time for romantic entanglements when you were determined to graduate at the top of your class.

After your boyfriend disappeared without a trace, you stopped believing in love. Even so, you still hold onto a faint hope that someday he will come back for you. In your dreams, you always imagine the day he returns.

Your friends encouraged you to move on and meet someone new, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Every time you saw a happy couple on campus, your thoughts would drift back to him.

Although you have gone on a few dates with attractive men, none have made an impression on you as deeply as Sunghoon once did.

Your heart longed for the connection you had shared with Sunghoon, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that nobody else could fill the void he left behind.

While you were absorbed in your thoughts, a commotion erupted nearby. A group of students had formed a circle around something, blocking your view. Curiosity gnawed at you, and you inched closer to see what was happening.

As you weaved through the curious onlookers, you caught a glimpse of something that took your breath away. Standing in the center of the crowd was none other than Sunghoon.

"I can't believe he's back," one student whispered, their eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah, he had a glow up definitely," another chimed in, their voice tinged with awe.

The murmurs around you grew louder as people discussed his unexpected return. Some whispered about how he had vanished without a trace, while others commented on how good he looked. One thing was unanimous: everyone seemed to be talking about him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him from afar. He looked even more captivating than you remembered, and the memories of your past relationship flooded back at full force.

You frantically pushed through the crowd, approaching Sunghoon, whose towering frame loomed over you. To your relief, he appeared surprised to see you.

His eyes widened in surprise when he caught sight of you. A range of emotions flickered across his face, including realization and a hint of guilt. For a brief moment, he hesitated, unsure of how to react.

“y/n?” he finally spoke, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. The sound of his deep, familiar voice stirred up a whirlwind of memories inside of you. It was as if no time had passed at all.

You gazed at him, your mind struggling to process whether he truly stood before you or if it was merely a dream. After a moment, you stuttered a response, "Y-yeah, that's me." Despite the changes over the past two years, you also experienced a significant transformation, enhancing your appearance.

His eyes scanned over you as if seeing you for the first time. His gaze lingered for a moment before his stoic expression softened into a faint smile. He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes seemed to study every detail of your new appearance.

As the moments passed, the murmurs and whispers surrounding you grew louder. The students who had formed the tight circle around Sunghoon were chattering amongst themselves, their voices filling the air. “I can’t believe he’s back,” one student whispered to their friend, their tone tinged with awe.

“What’s y/n doing with him,” another chimed in, their voice tinged with admiration.

Students around you exchanged looks. “I swear, they were practically inseparable back then. Do you think they’re still together?” one student whispered a little louder than intended, causing your ears to perk up.

You impulsively raised your hand, poking his shoulder without thinking. Realizing your action, you swiftly drew your hand back, blushing slightly in embarrassment. “S-sorry..” you muttered, looking away from him. You knew that this time, you weren’t dreaming.

Your sudden poke caused him to flinch, his gaze shifting to you. A brief flash of confusion flickered in his eyes before he replied, “No, it’s fine.” He seemed just as flustered as you were, his usually composed demeanor slipping for a moment.

Among the sea of murmurs and speculation, a bold voice rose above the rest. "Hey, are they still together?" a boy called out from the crowd, his comment drawing everyone's attention.

Sunghoon's eyes darted towards the source of the voice, a flicker of annoyance evident in his gaze. He remained silent, clearly not appreciative of the question being asked in front of others. He was usually more of the shy type, so he waited for you to talk.

You stammered slightly, replying, "I-I don’t... no, I don’t think so." Your words were softly spoken, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty mixed with a touch of hesitation.

Your response seemed to catch him off guard, a slight furrow appearing on his brow. His expression mirrored the same uncertainty you were trying to convey. The onlookers around them seemed to shift their gazes between the two of you, anticipation hanging in the air.

It was clear that everyone around you was eagerly awaiting some sort of confirmation, hoping to get clarity on the current status of your relationship. Despite the pressure of the moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching out in the air.

As the silence dragged on, the murmurs in the crowd began to die down. One by one, the onlookers slowly dispersed, realizing there was no satisfying answer to their questions. The tension in the air eased ever so slightly as the curious eyes around you moved on to other matters.

The crowd gradually thinned out, leaving you and Sunghoon standing there, facing each other. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by a palpable awkwardness that hung heavy between you.

"So...," you began, your voice quivering with disbelief, still grappling with the reality of the situation. "Where have you been...?" Your voice shook as you voiced the question that had been burning in your mind since his disappearance.

A wave of guilt washed over his face, his eyes averting your gaze. He looked away as he answered, a tinge of shame in his voice, "I was... I was away, y/n."

His response was short, almost dismissive. It was clear that he didn't want to delve deeper into the subject.

Your tone shifted from disbelief to frustration, and you scoffed. "Well it’s pretty obvious you went away," you retorted, the words slipping out more forcefully than intended. "Why and where on earth did you vanish, Sunghoon? I was genuinely worried sick…" Your irritation and concern were evident as you spoke, emphasizing the gravity of his absence and the impact it had on you.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. His mind worked furiously, searching for a way to navigate this situation without revealing too much.

"I just... needed some space," he muttered under his breath, attempting to dismiss your concern with a half-answer.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you retorted sternly, "Some space? That's all you have to say after disappearing without a word for two year? You just needed space? You didn’t even bother to text me!”

The words stung as they left your mouth. You hadn't meant to be so blunt, but your pent-up frustration and lingering hurt had overwhelmed you.

He stared at you with a mixture of guilt and resignation, seemingly aware of the pain he had caused you.

Just as your heated exchange reached its peak, the sound of the bell broke through the atmosphere like a sharp alarm, signaling the end of break time. The shrill noise cut through the tension, reminding everyone of their impending classes.

Students around you began to scatter, hastening to their classes. They cast final lingering glances at you and Sunghoon before disappearing into various directions. The once lively spot emptied, leaving only the two of you behind.

As the last of the students hurried away, Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction. "I have class," he mumbled quickly, gesturing vaguely behind him. He was eager to escape the tense situation, and seizing the opportunity afforded by the bell ringing, he began to back away from you.

"Wait, Sunghoon—" you started, reaching out to grab his arm, but his pace had already quickened, and your fingers barely grazed his sleeve before he was out of reach.

—

You waited near the school gate, your eyes continuously scanning the crowded campus for any sign of him. Frustration gnawed at you as the clock ticked away, knowing that he had actively avoided you all day.

You released a weary sigh as you approached the table occupied by your popular “friends” and collapsed onto the seat beside Kazuha. She glanced at you and remarked with a teasing tone, "You look like you just crawled back from hell." Looking up, you saw her taking a bite out of her granola bar. "What's the matter?"

You groaned in response, feeling the exhaustion seeping into your bones. "Sunghoon’s back after disappearing on everyone for two years," you muttered, slumping in your seat. It had been a long day filled with frustration and disappointment, and the last thing you wanted to deal with was Kazuha's playful teasing.

Another girl, Chaewon, joined in the conversation and added, "I heard he's like, super hot now." Her comment carried a hint of curiosity and intrigue, implying that Sunghoon's appearance had undergone changes that had caught their attention.

The news of Sunghoon’s appearance change didn’t surprise you. After all, two years had passed since he vanished, and it made sense that he would have grown and matured during that time. Nevertheless, a pang of jealousy flared within you as your friends continued discussing his newfound attractiveness.

Kazuha's words hung in the air as she asked, "Wait, so you two aren't together anymore, right?" You shook your head in confirmation, signaling the end of your relationship with Sunghoon. "Okay, good because me and Kazuha were walking around the field earlier in the day, and it low-key seemed like he was making out with someone. It was like, very intense," Chaewon stated, her words laced with both concern and scandalized fascination.

Their revelation hit you like a wave of disappointment and confusion. It stung to hear that Sunghoon was involved with someone else so soon after his return.

The image of him making out with another girl haunted your mind, stirring up a mix of jealousy and sadness within you.

"He… He was making out with someone…?" you repeated, the words escaping your lips in a hushed whisper.

Both girls nodded their heads delicately, signaling their agreement and empathy. There was a hint of concern in Kazuha's voice as she remarked, "Kinda feel bad for you though. We know you loved him a lot." Their words carried a tinge of compassion, acknowledging your deep feelings for him.

Their understanding words seemed to offer little solace in the face of this new information. Even so, you appreciated their concern.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you tried to push past the emotional pain. "It’s fine," you murmured, attempting to hide the hurt behind a brave facade. "It’s been two years since we broke up. I’ve moved on."

Chaewon, however, expressed her disbelief with a scoff. She shook her head at the notion of you moving on and declared, "You? Moved on? Impossible!"

Her dismissive tone struck a nerve, making you bristle with annoyance. It was true that moving on was not something you had accomplished easily, but you didn’t appreciate your friend calling it impossible.

"I swear, you might as well still be together," she insisted, her words like a sharp poke to your sensitive nerve. "You don't just ‘move on’ from someone you fell in love with so quickly. It's been two years, but you still can't bring yourself to date anyone new."

A mixture of curiosity and jealousy coursed through your veins. Despite the pang of heartache, you couldn’t help but feel compelled to ask.

You turned to your friends and inquired, with a touch of hesitation, "Did that girl he was making out with... was she, you know, pretty?"

“Uh, I mean I guess she is,” Chaewon said, her tone full of sass. “But you’re definitely prettier.”

Kazuha hummed and nods her head in agreement. “And if he lost feelings for you, his loss.”

Their words were meant to be comforting, but they only deepened your sense of inadequacy. It felt like a painful reminder that despite how much you still cared for him, he had chosen someone else.

Their encouragement didn’t have the desired effect. Instead, it left you feeling more wounded and vulnerable.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, and you sank further into your seat.

"Yeah, it’s his loss," you echoed, mustering a weak smile in response to their attempt to uplift you. But deep inside, the knowledge that he had moved on with another girl still stung like a fresh wound.

“Just guys being guys you know,” Chaewon scoffed, probably thinking back of an old ex of hers.

You knew all too well the nature of guys and their tendencies. Despite your past relationship with Sunghoon, the idea of him quickly moving on with someone else stung.

"Yeah, guys being guys," you murmured, trying to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

Days passed, and you tried to keep yourself occupied with classes, studying, and hanging out with your friends. However, no amount of distractions could erase the lingering thoughts of Sunghoon and the mysterious girl he had been making out with. The mystery girl was now always on your mind, and the thought of her ignited a fire of jealousy deep within you.

The days dragged on, each passing moment only intensifying your curiosity and resentment. You found yourself constantly picturing the girl in your mind, wondering what she looked like, what her laughter sounded like, and what qualities had drawn him towards her.

As the days progressed, your interactions with Sunghoon remained awkward and fleeting. Despite being in the same popular crowd, your paths seldom crossed. However, whenever your eyes did meet across the room or hallway, the tension in the air was tangible.

Despite your best efforts, it felt impossible to escape him. You found yourself constantly surrounded by reminders of him. In conversations with your friends, in whispers in the hallways, and even in the occasional glimpse of him in passing, it felt like he was always there, always invading your thoughts.

One day, Kazuha and Chaewon approached you as you organized your belongings in your locker. With a curious tone, Chaewon inquired, "You coming to the winter dance?" Her question invited your participation in the upcoming event.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind instantly going to the thought of Sunghoon being there. Despite your desire to avoid him, you couldn't deny that you were usually the center of attention at such events because of your popularity.

"I don't know," you replied, still contemplating whether to attend or not.

Kazuha continued in a pleading tone, "Come onnnnn," emphasizing her desire for your presence. She added, "I bet that mysterious girl Sunghoon made out with will be there. Or you can confront him right there and then!" Her words implied intrigue and the potential for confrontation or resolution at the upcoming dance.

The idea of confronting him and finding out more about his mysterious girl was tempting. Your curiosity continued to gnaw at you.

"I guess so..." you finally agreed, though your mind was still swirling with unresolved emotions and questions.

Their faces both lit up, indicating their satisfaction with your decision. Kazuha gave you a reassuring pat on the back, "Atta girl." Chaewon smirked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation for the drama that might unfold.

Kazuha raised a brow and inquired, "You have someone to go with though, right?" Her question confirmed your companion for the dance, expressing curiosity about your plans and the company you intended to keep.

The mention of a partner made you realize that you hadn’t considering bringing a date with you. Your mind began racing, contemplating who you could potentially bring.

"Uh, no... not yet," you admitted, somewhat embarrassed by your lack of plans in that regard.

Kazuha hummed at your answer at she looked like she was deep in her thoughts. “Okay well if Sunghoon potentially has a new girlfriend, you’re going to need a ‘boyfriend’ as well to make it equal to seek like you’re not still into him..”

A slight blush tinged your cheeks as you considered the idea of finding a “boyfriend” to even the playing field. The thought of pretending to be in a relationship with someone just to compete with Sunghoon was a bit embarrassing.

"I don’t know, it feels a bit… not authentic, you know?" you retorted, though there was a hint of curiosity in your tone.

“Okay..” Kazuha reponded. “Well you don’t need to *have* a boyfriend, you just need to make it seem like you do.. maybe like a pretend?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought, considering Kazuha’s suggestion. The idea of pretending to have a boyfriend for appearance sake was both intriguing and somewhat amusing.

"How exactly would that work?" you asked, a touch of skepticism in your voice.

“It’s simple. Just find a good looking guy to be your fake boyfriend and pretend you’re in love in front of Sunghoon.” Kazuha replied, her words tinged with confidence and a hint of mischief.

A mix of curiosity and hesitation brewed within you. The idea of having a fake relationship solely to play mind games with Sunghoon felt a bit manipulative.

"That feels kinda dishonest, don’t you think?" you remarked, wrestling with your conflicting emotions.

Chaewon couldn't hide her disbelief and frustration. With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she expressed disapproval at your apparent naïveté. "Seriously, you think it's okay that Sunghoon vanished without a trace for two years and now returns with a girlfriend? Wake up and face reality, y/n!" Her words were firm and tinged with disappointment.

Chaewon's sharp words pierced through your hesitation, awakening a spark of anger and defiance within you. It was difficult to deny the injustice of the situation, but your heart still yearned for a genuine connection.

"You don’t understand-" you began to protest, frustration seeping into your voice.

Chaewon grew more frustrated with your reluctance and added, "Y/n, you need to stop being so self-absorbed and go along with our plan. Don't you think you at least deserved an explanation from him after he ghosted everyone for two years?" Her sigh conveyed a mix of resignation and annoyance, emphasizing her frustration at your stubbornness.

The weight of her words hit you hard. Guilt and frustration collided within your thoughts—you couldn’t deny that you felt wronged by his disappearance. Chaewon made valid points, making it difficult to dismiss her perspective.

You bit your lip, the realization of the complexity sinking in.

"I guess you’re right... I do deserve an explanation," you conceded.

Chaewon crossed her arms, her expression shifting from annoyance to satisfaction at your eventual agreement. "So you’re in, right?" she asked, her tone tinged with a hint of victory, hoping for your full commitment to the plan.

you remained silent for a moment, wrestling with your lingering doubts. However, the desire for clarity and a sense of payback against Sunghoon overwhelmed your reservations.

Finally, you took a deep breath and nodded, "Okay, I’m in."

You had your sights set on a guy named Heeseung. Though he wasn't extremely popular, you had to admit he was quite attractive. With fair skin, dark hair, and a tall stature, he met all the physical criteria you sought. The only step left was convincing him to play the role of your fake boyfriend for a day at the winter dance.

Your mind raced with thoughts and questions as you mulled over how to approach the proposition to Heeseung. Despite already admitting the plan to Kazuha and Chaewon, doubts still gnawed at you.

Would he even agree to something so absurd? You wondered.

As you navigated the bustling hallway, you caught a glimpse of Heeseung through the crowd. The confidence and determination within you prompted your pursuit. With a subtle yet steady pace, you weaved through the sea of students until you found yourself standing before Heeseung, who had taken a pause to scroll through his phone.

"Heeseung," you called out, your voice projecting a mixture of nervousness and conviction.

Heeseung flinched slightly at the sound of his name, his attention snapping up from his phone. surprise etched across his face as he recognized you.

"Y/n?" His voice held a hint of question, probably wondering what prompted your sudden approach.

You could tell he was getting flustered around you; almost every guy in the university did. You took a brief moment to compose yourself before speaking, trying to mask the subtle tremors in your voice.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" you asked, hoping he didn't detect the hint of desperation.

His eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, as if he sensed the seriousness of your request.

"Sure, what's up?" he replied, his voice tinged with caution.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

"So... I have a big favor to ask," you began, trying to sound casual despite the intensity of your request.

Heeseung raised his brows curiously, his attention fully on you.

"A favor?" he echoed, his tone laced with intrigue.

You swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn't dismiss your request outright.

"Yeah... I'm attending the winter dance, and I need a date..." you trailed off, anticipating how he would respond.

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he registered your unexpected request.

"Oh, uh..." His voice wavered slightly, a subtle hint of uncertainty seeping through, before he composed himself. "Are you asking me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, both nervous and hopeful that he would agree. You nodded hesitantly, hoping he wouldn't reject you on the spot.

"Yes... I was wondering if you could be my date for the dance," you confessed, your voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability.

He glanced away for a moment, seemingly mulling over your proposition. The silence felt like an eternity to you, your anxiety mounting with each passing second.

Finally, he met your gaze once more, his expression unreadable.

"Why me?" he finally questioned, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You'd anticipated this question, expecting a reasonable explanation would be necessary.

"Well, there are a few reasons," you began, trying to sound assured.

"First, we kind of know each other," you started, hoping to build a case based on familiarity, "And, uh, you're pretty decent-looking..." Your words spilled out awkwardly, your confidence faltering.

A faint blush colored his cheeks, but whether it was from the unexpected compliment or embarrassment, you couldn't tell.

"Okay, those are fair points... but there has to be more, right?" He raised a brow, skepticism evident in his tone.

As you scrambled for more substantial reasons, you remembered Chaewon's words.

"And, um, I need someone trustworthy to be my date," you added quickly, the lie leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

He raised a brow, clearly sensing the hidden agenda behind your response.

"Trustworthy? Why's that?" he probed further, seeking a more satisfying explanation.

You pleaded with Heeseung, imploring, "Just—just do this for me, please?" You managed to get the necessary words out of your mouth, though they left a bitter taste.

"I genuinely believe you're a handsome guy with a great personality, and I'd really love for you to be my partner at the dance..." The words felt foreign and contrived as they escaped your lips, causing an uncomfortable shiver to run down your spine.

Heeseung observed you with an intense gaze, studying your demeanor. He could sense something deeper at play, but whether he believed your explanation remained uncertain.

"Alright," he finally relented, though his voice held a hint of suspicion. "Fine, I'll be your date for the dance."

A mix of relief and anxiety washed over you as he agreed, though the undertone of doubt lingered in his tone. You forced a smile, attempting to disguise your discomfort.

"Thanks, Heeseung," you replied, managing to sound somewhat grateful despite the knot of guilt in your stomach.

“Wait—“ Heeseung spoke up as you turned to leave. “Are you asking me out solely for the dance, or is there something more to it?" His words hung in the air, seeking clarity about your intentions.

Caught off guard, you paused and turned back to face him, trying to maintain composure.

"Why would you think that?" you responded evasively, hoping he wouldn't delve deeper into your true motive.

Heeseung's face flushed with embarrassment as he hesitantly confessed, "I've liked you for quite some time, y/n." His words stumbled out adorably, revealing his hidden feelings.

Your eyes widened in surprise at his bold declaration. The confession caught you off guard, especially since you had assumed he was aware of your ulterior motives.

"You...like me?" The words left your lips in a mix of confusion and disbelief, wondering if you had heard him correctly.

Heeseung chuckled and responded to your question, "Isn't it obvious? Pretty much every guy here is into you." His tone carried a hint of amusement, as if acknowledging the apparent popularity you held among the male population.

Your cheeks flushed at his remark, realizing the truth in his words. Your popularity among the guys was no secret, but having it acknowledged so matter-of-factly left you slightly embarrassed.

You conceded, reluctantly agreeing, "I suppose it could be more than just a one-time thing..." Despite not truly feeling the same, you forced yourself to say the words, knowing it was an act.

He raised a brow skeptically, seemingly sensing your wavering conviction.

"That didn't sound very convincing," he pointed out, a subtle hint of accusation in his tone.

You insisted, "I promise I'm being honest." Perhaps getting to know Heeseung better could actually help you move on from Sunghoon. After all, he apparently had a new girlfriend now, so it was likely he had moved on as well.

He examined you, his gaze penetrating your facade. The skepticism remained evident in his expression, but he didn't push further, a hint of resignation in his voice.

"If you say so... I'll trust you."

You smiled and confirmed, "Great! So, Friday at 6?”

He nodded, still somewhat uncertain.

"Sure…" he agreed, his voice trailing off, unable to shake off the unease.

—

Over the past few days, you got Heeseung's contact info and occasionally chatted with him. He was funny and kind, reminding you of a less shy version of Sunghoon. Using this connection, you tried to distract yourself from thoughts of Sunghoon, and it seemed to be gradually working.

Time seemed to fly by with the newfound company. Despite Heeseung's playful and sometimes teasing demeanor, getting to know him became a pleasant distraction from your past and a glimmer of hope for the future.

Heeseung, being the playful flirt that he is, often slips in subtle compliments, saying things like, "Wow y/n, so pretty today huh?" He loves to catch you off guard with unexpected winks and playful banter, trying to get a reaction out of you. Whenever he has the chance, he'll poke fun at your cuteness, saying, "You're too adorable when you get flustered, you know that?"

Sunghoon had become somewhat more elusive to you, and the only times you caught a glimpse of him these days were in passing within the bustling university hallways or outside on campus grounds.

With each fleeting sight of him, a mix of emotions coursed through you, stirring an uncomfortable blend of nostalgia and pain, as if your past memories with him came flooding back in sharp clarity.

As the evening of the winter dance finally arrived, a mix of anticipation and unease stirred within you. The crowd buzzed with excitement, creating a vibrant atmosphere. The decorations were grand, the music was upbeat and energetic, and couples swarmed the dance floor, immersed in the festivities.

You held onto Heeseung's arm as you eagerly guided him toward your group of friends. Grinning, you introduced him to Kazuha and Chaewon, your closest companions. "Kazuha, Chaewon, meet Heeseung," you said cheerfully, turning towards him. Noticeably shy at first, Heeseung nodded a timid greeting before offering a soft smile in response.

Your friends observed him, seemingly intrigued by your choice of company.Chaewon's brow arched as she looked him up and down, giving him a once-over.

"So, Heeseung, huh?" she remarked, her tone hinting at curiosity.

Heeseung fidgeted a little under their gazes, somewhat intimidated but trying to maintain a casual demeanor. "Yeah, that's me," he replied, forcing a slight chuckle to lighten the tension.

Kazuha studied him for a moment, a small smirk playing at her lips.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her tone laced with an underlying layer of assessment.

He nodded, returning the greeting with an uneasy smile, still somewhat unsettled by your friend's scrutinizing gazes. You sensed his discomfort and squeezed his arm reassuringly, offering silent support.

You continued conversing with your friends and Heeseung, but you found yourself unable to shake the sensation of someone's gaze upon you. It wasn't unusual for you to receive attention, considering your popularity, yet this time, something felt distinct.

Subtly glancing around the room, your eyes caught sight of Sunghoon, staring at you with an expressionless face, calmly sipping what appeared to be alcohol. Their gazes briefly met until he averted his eyes just as quickly, returning his focus to his group of friends. Despite his apparent nonchalance, you could still sense his lingering stare fixated upon you.

As your gaze met Sunghoon's, a mix of emotions surged within you—hurt, confusion, maybe even a hint of longing. The sight of him, casually engaging with his friends, stirred old memories, and a pang of disappointment hit you when he quickly averted his gaze.

You tried to focus on the conversation with your friends, but the lingering intensity of Sunghoon's stare weighed heavily on you. You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind.

As the night progressed, the room seemed to grow hotter, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Despite your efforts to enjoy yourself with Heeseung and your friends, you couldn't shake off the sensation of Sunghoon's eyes following you.

Each time your gaze subtly grazed in his direction, his cold, emotionless stare met yours. It was as if he had an uncanny ability to find you in the crowd, always observing from afar.

As the night wore on and the crowd thinned, Kazuha and Chaewon excused themselves to meet their respective dates. Heeseung, taking notice of your situation, turned to you with a suggestion.

He leaned in slightly, his voice carrying over the noise, "I'm going to grab some drinks. Want something?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering the option.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, trying to sound casual. "Just be quick."

He nodded and turned to leave, leaving you standing alone for a moment. Your gaze lingered in the direction where Sunghoon was sitting, but he wasn’t there. His friends were still there, but he wasn’t..

Your mind wandered, wondering why he had left without explaining.

"Did he go to the bathroom?" you muttered to yourself, trying to brush off the sudden unease within you.

A few moments later, Heeseung returned with two plastic cups in hand, the clear liquid within glimmering under the dancing lights. He handed you one, his smile subtle yet warm.

Taking the cup from him, you thanked him. As you took a sip, the slight bitter taste of the alcohol hit your tastebuds, but it was smooth enough not to burn your throat.

With some more drinks, you found yourself feeling increasingly hazy and woozy. Heeseung seemed to be in the same state, his eyes heavy with intoxication. At that very moment, his appearance held a certain allure, exuding an almost irresistible kissable aura.

Heeseung's normally charming demeanor had now taken on a different aura, fueled by the intoxicating effects of the alcohol. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, now held a mysterious allure, leaving you captivated and drawn towards him. The alcohol seemed to elevate the chemistry between you, making all the senses heightened and creating an intense pull in the air.

Heeseung's movements became more fluid and relaxed, his inhibitions lowered by the influence of alcohol. His gaze locked onto you, his eyes half-lidded, a sultry smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Heeseung's hand found its way to your waist, gently pulling you closer. Despite your slightly unsteady state, he managed to steady himself against a nearby wall. "You look good tonight," he whispered as he leaned in slightly, his voice holding a hint of huskiness.

The proximity of his body to yours sent a subtle shiver down your spine, the warmth of his touch igniting a spark of chemistry. Your mind felt a little hazy, the alcohol further blurring the lines of control.

As he leaned against the wall, pulling you closer, the words escaped his lips in a soft whisper. "So pretty tonight," he repeated, his voice carrying a hint of sensuality that sent a jolt through your core.

You couldn't help but blush, the mix of emotions and alcohol creating a confusing whirlwind of sensations. His hand tightened on your waist, a possessive gesture that sent a subtle shiver through your body. You met his gaze hesitantly, unsure of what to do next.

As Heeseung's gaze held yours, your inhibitions grew weaker. Your heart pounded in your chest, the alcohol in your system making you bolder. Unable to resist any longer, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you. Your lips met his, a moment of undeniable chemistry igniting between you.

At first, Heeseung seemed surprised by your unexpected boldness, but he quickly reciprocated the kiss, his hand sliding to your lower back and pulling you closer against him. The air grew hotter, charged with a potent mix of desire and intoxication.

The intensity of the kiss left you breathless, but as soon as you came to your senses, guilt and regret flooded your mind. Your heart pounded with the realization of what you had just done. Without hesitation, you pulled back abruptly, breaking the heated moment.

The overwhelming guilt and the alcohol in your system made it difficult to think clearly, so without a word, you quickly pushed away from Heeseung and made a beeline toward the exit.

As you suddenly pulled away from the kiss, Heeseung, still somewhat intoxicated, tried to comprehend the sudden shift in tone. With a confused expression, he called out to you, his voice a mixture of concern and confusion.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?" He tried to grab your wrist, attempting to prevent you from leaving.

The alcohol in his system impaired his coordination, and he stumbled a little as he grasped your wrist, trying to keep you from bolting. His grip was firm, a desperate attempt to keep you from running away.

But your mind was set on escape, the guilt and shame coursing through your veins. His hand around your wrist felt like a burning weight, a reminder of the mistake, you feared you had made.

With a pang of guilt and determination, you yanked your wrist away, breaking free from his grip and fleeing without a backward glance. You felt your heart racing at this new side of Heeseung you never knew.

Heeseung, still slightly intoxicated and stunned by your abrupt actions, was determined not to let you escape so easily.

Despite your attempt to break free, he didn't back down. Instead, he tightened his grip on your wrist and pulled you back toward him, pulling you into the nearest washroom.

In a sudden burst of passion, he locked the door, pressing you against the solid surface. "I—I shouldn't have kissed you..." you muttered timidly, apprehensively anticipating his reactions. "Do you know how long I've been yearning, craving for that to happen?" He responded, visibly confused and hurt by your words. "What do you mean you shouldn't have kissed me?"

There was a hint of desperation in his tone, his voice tinged with pain.

He continued, his grip on your wrist still strong, pinning you against the wall. "All this time I've been waiting, hoping, praying for a moment like that to happen. And now you say it was a mistake?"

Before you could even utter a word in response, Heeseung acted swiftly, grasping your wrists with a single hand and pinning them above you, his grip firm yet filled with desire. Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned in, kissing you harshly.

His actions were driven by a mix of desperation and passion, his kiss forceful and dominant. The taste of his lips was a potent mix of alcohol and lingering sweetness, a mixture that only seemed to fuel the intensity of the moment. He didn't let you withdraw, pressing himself against you, the wall serving as a solid barrier behind you.

Heeseung forcefully held onto your wrists, keeping you firmly in place. He then trailed kisses down your neck, using his other hand to cover your mouth, muffling any cries for help that might alert others. “You shouldn’t have done that y/n,” he chuckled against your ear. “Look what you’ve got yourself into.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his deep, husky voice murmured against your ear. The combination of his firm grip on your wrists, combined with his hand over your mouth, left you feeling both powerless and helpless.

The way he continued to nuzzle against your neck only heightened the intoxicating mixture of confusion and desire. His words cut through the haze, a reminder that your actions had consequences.

Heeseung continued to trail kisses down your neck, savoring your scent with every gentle press of his lips against your skin.

"You smell so good..." he murmured in between soft kisses, his voice filled with a mixture of admiration and yearning. “Let me guess, Prada?”

His breath was warm against your skin as he moved to the side, trailing his lips along your cheek. "it is, isn't it?" Heeseung's nose lingered near your collarbone, breathing in your scent deeply, as if trying to memorize it. “Looks like we have the same taste in brands too huh?”

You attempted to move your head away from him, but he only responded by putting more force on your writs, causing you to whimper in response. "Ah-ah y/n," he murmured, a hint of warning in his voice, "don't try to do that..."

Heeseung's tone was firm and authoritative, sending a chill down your spine. The strength in his grip on your wrists reinforced his dominant position, leaving you no choice but to submit to his will.

Suddenly, the sound of the unlock of the bathroom door echoed through the space, jarring both you and Heeseung out of the moment. Without hesitation, whoever opened the door barged into the washroom.

Under normal circumstances, any observer would likely assume your current situation to be two weirdos doing something kinky.

However, Sunghoon knew you well enough to understand your body language. He could recognize the fear etched upon your eyes, perceiving your expressions as genuine distress rather than simulated passion.

His gaze shifted towards your widened eyes and trembling lips, noticing the subtle hints of fear and desperation etched upon your face.

The sound of the door unlocking had shattered any illusion, and he knew instantly that this was not a consensual situation you were willingly participating in.

Heeseung, too occupied with his fixation on you, was oblivious to the sudden intrusion. His grip on your wrists remained firm, his lips still pressed against your neck, unaware that someone had walked in.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sunghoon yanked Heeseung away from you, his fingers firmly gripping the collar of Heeseung's shirt, pulling him away from your trembling form.

Heeseung stumbled slightly as he was forcibly pulled away, surprised by the sudden intervention.

His eyes widened as he met Sunghoon's gaze, a mix of annoyance and defiance in his expression. "What the hell are you doing?" He snapped, attempting to shake off Sunghoon's grip.

Sunghoon's grip on his collar tightened, his tone sharp as steel. "Get off of her," he growled, his eyes locking onto Heeseung's with a chilling intensity. "Now."

Heeseung responded with a snarl, his words dripping with resentment. "And why do you care? You abandoned everyone, including your girlfriend, for two whole years, and now you show up out of no where playing hero?"

Sunghoon's jaw clenched at Heeseung's accusation, but he didn't back down. "That doesn't change the fact that what you're doing right now is wrong," he retorted, his grip never loosening. "She's clearly uncomfortable, and you're still holding onto her. Let go."

Heeseung's stubborn attitude persisted, refusing to budge. He scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. "And what makes you think you have a right to intervene? You were never there for her when she needed you."

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, the weight of Heeseung's words sinking in. "That's not the point," he replied through gritted teeth. "The point is that you're taking advantage of her right now, and I'm not going to just stand by and let that happen."

Despite Heeseung's reluctance to back down, Sunghoon's grip on Heeseung's collar grew firmer, his voice dripping with determination. "Let go, or I swear, I'll make you let go." As he spoke, the intensity in his eyes grew more pronounced, a clear warning that he was dead serious.

Heeseung, sensing the seriousness in Sunghoon's tone, reluctantly released his grip on your wrists, his grip loosening.

You could practically feel the tension in the air as Heeseung reluctantly let go, his grip slackening, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Your wrists were sore from his tight hold, and every nerve in your body felt raw.

Finally free from his grasp, you took a moment to compose yourself, your thoughts still a chaotic whirlwind of confusion and fear. However, the sight of Sunghoon standing there, having come to your rescue, stirred a mix of emotions within you.

Heeseung, feeling the weight of the situation, reluctantly released you, his grip loosening. Without a word of apology or explanation, Heeseung swiftly straightened his clothes and brushed past Sunghoon, walking out of the washroom without looking back.

You tried to say something, but Sunghoon left before you could speak. “Sunghoon, wait!” But he doesn’t. He just kept going. You were left wondering what had just happened. The air was heavy with uncertainty, leaving you feeling confused and full of unanswered questions.

As Sunghoon walked away, his footsteps fading in the distance, you stood there, feeling overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. The air hung heavy with uncertainty, and a million questions swirled through your mind. What had just transpired? Why did he simply walk away without saying a word?

You call a taxi back to your dorm, not being able to focus in your drunken state. The whole time you were focused on what just happened back in the washroom. Finally, you arrived home, kicking off your shoes as you slouched down on the couch. Pulling out your phone you see 3 missed calls from Kazuha. You sigh as you turn your phone off, hurrying your face into a pillow, screaming inside of it.

The silence of your room was heavy, the weight of your thoughts and the memory of the events of the night settling heavily upon you. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in a nearby pillow as you let out a stifled scream, desperately trying to release the pent-up emotions from the night.

The thought of calling Sunghoon has came up once or twice, but you never ended up doing so. You then wondered why you didn’t see his ‘girlfriend’ there with him. Maybe Kazuha and Chaewon saw someone else that looked like Sunghoon? That had to be it.

The questions continued to swirl in your mind, and the image of Sunghoon's expressionless face as he left the washroom haunted your thoughts. Why had he simply left without a word, leaving you standing there confused and overwhelmed?

Just as you doze off from your drunken state, you saw Sunghoon’s caller ID on your phone as it rang on the bedside table. You quickly sat up, unplugging your phone as you picked it up. “Hello??” You answered, a feeling of both worry and excitement creeping on you. “Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon, sounding weary yet relieved, answered in a hushed tone. "Y/n, finally, you picked up."

You heard low, heavy breaths on the line for a few moments before a deep voice responded, "y/n..." The words were slurred with a hint of intoxication, betraying his state of inebriation.

The realization that he was not completely sober sent a pang of disappointment through your chest. A part of you had hoped for a clear, sober conversation, but it seemed fate had other plans.

“Hello?? Sunghoon, are you okay?” You asked with worry. Did he get hurt? Was he in trouble? Was he finally going to tell you why he was gone for so long. No, he didn’t do any of that. “Y/n.. just, just keep talking for me..”

He sighed heavily into the phone, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "Just...please talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a confusing mix of concern, relief, and a strange pang of longing coursing through you. Something about hearing his voice, even in its drunken state, stirred deep emotions within you. "Okay, Sunghoon," you replied softly, your voice tinged with a touch of resignation, "I'll keep talking."

Sunghoon let out a sigh of relief, his tone now tinged with vulnerability. "Okay..." He paused for a moment, heavy panting noises were heard before continuing. "I just...I need to hear you talk y/n."

His words hung in the air, almost as if he was seeking something more than just the sound of your voice. There was a vulnerability in his tone that tugged at your heartstrings. "Alright," you responded, your voice tinged with a hint of concern, "I'm here, I'm listening. What do you want me to say?"

The sound of a muffled groan reached your ears, followed by Sunghoon's request, his voice tinged with desperation, "Anything—just keep talking for me..."

The raw emotion in his voice, tinged with need, sent a shiver down your spine. You took a deep breath, feeling a strange mix of concern and confusion. What was happening? Why did he want to hear you talking so badly, especially in his state of inebriation?

Your concern and confusion blended together as you asked, "Sunghoon, what are you doing?" You moved to a sitting position on your bed, allowing your legs to dangle.

There was a moment of silence before he finally responded, his voice slurred with intoxication. "I just... I had a rough night, y/n. I needed to hear your voice, to know you're real."

The pieces quickly started to fall into place as you heard him swear under his breath, and his labored breaths grew even more labored. Suddenly, realization struck: you knew exactly what was happening on the other end of the call.

A mix of concern and embarrassment washed over you as you gradually understood the situation. It seemed like Sunghoon was in a vulnerable state, and hearing the strained sound of his breathing made everything clearer. "Sunghoon," you began softly, a twinge of worry in your voice, "Are you... are you alone right now?"

"Yeah, I'm alone…" he murmured lowly, heavy breaths still audible in the background. “Why?”

You took a second in to process what was going on before you finally answered him. “Are you..” you pause. Was it too risky? No, fuck it.

“Are you jerking off..?”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, the heavy breathing suddenly coming to an abrupt halt. You could almost sense the surprise and panic on the other end of the line, the silence growing thick with tension. After a brief pause, he finally responded, his voice strained, "I— uh… yes."

He didn't deny it or try to hide the truth, his response confirming your suspicion. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, your mind swimming with confusion and conflicting emotions. What was he thinking? Why was he doing this? Why did he call you in the midst of such a personal moment?

His plea came through the line, his speech heavy with breathlessness, "Just—just keep talking for me, y/n..." The air of desperation was palpable in his tone, making it clear that he was engaged in something physical. “I’m so close, please…”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you winced inwardly at his bluntness. The sounds of his breath and the desperate tone of his voice were hard to ignore. You felt a mixture of conflicting emotions, torn between concern, confusion, and a strange pang of sadness. "Sunghoon, I… I don’t understand," you finally managed to say, your own voice wavering. "Why are you asking me to talk to you while you… do that?"

The desperation in his voice intensified as he pleaded with you, his tone pleading, "Y/n, y/n please... please just keep talking for me, be a good girl and keep talking..."

The words stung like a burn, and you felt a strange mix of frustration and helplessness. Your concern for him was growing, and the conflicting feelings coursing through you added to your inner turmoil. "But, Sunghoon… I can't just sit here listening to this. This... it feels weird, and I don't know what to say," you replied, your voice shaking.

His voice became more commanding as he requested, "Tell me... tell me how much you missed me when I was gone, tell me y/n." The intensity in his tone indicated that he wanted, if not outright demanded, a specific response from you.

Your heart skipped a beat at the command in his voice, and a wave of uncertainty washed over you. Missing him wasn't the issue, but the request felt almost manipulative in this situation. "Sunghoon..." you began, your voice strained, "I can't just say it like that. It doesn't feel right. Don't do this to me right now."

“Y/n…” he groaned, almost wet slapping noise heard in the background now. “Do you want me to turn on my camera??”

The words hit you like a cold bucket of water, the sound in the background only adding to the intensity of the situation.

Alarm bells rang in your head, and you felt a surge of panic. "What? No, don’t do that!" You quickly responded, your voice laced with alarm and frustration. "Why are you even asking that? I don’t want to see—"

Too late.

Before you could finish your sentence and protest further, the sound of a call request beeped on your phone, his name appearing at the top. Your heart leaped into your throat as your suspicion was confirmed—he was requesting a video call.

Your mind raced, torn between the feeling of not wanting to see what was happening and the lingering curiosity, possibly concern for what he was doing to himself. With a trembling hand, you hesitated before finally accepting the call, the screen filling with his image.

The sight of him on your screen was a shock. He was shirtless, his chest heaving heavily, his body exposed and vulnerable. The sight made your heart skip a beat, and you felt a pang of mixed emotions. He was sweating, biting his lip, his eyes filled with a strange mixture of lust and desperation.

“Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath, realizing the camera was focused on him, not what he wanted you to see, so he flips the camera.

There were no words to describe the wave of conflicting emotions coursing through you as the camera flipped around. You could only watch, heart pounding, as he adjusted the angle, revealing a perspective that made your stomach twist with unease. You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say or do as the reality of the situation sunk in even deeper.

His veiny throbbing manhood was leaking with pre-cum as he used one hand to stroke it up and down as the other one is used to hold the camera. “Y/n, keep talking for me..” he pleaded in a low raspy tone. “Please..”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you stammered, your mind racing, struggling to process the visual unfolding before you on the screen. The sight was both shocking and overwhelming, and you felt lost for words.

The desperation in Sunghoon’s voice was palpable, his plea hanging in the air, and your heart ached with conflicting emotions. "Please, y/n," he begged once more, "Just keep talking to me."

Each breath you took was heavy, and the words stuck in your throat. The mixture of concern and confusion warred within you, leaving you speechless. How did you end up in this situation? Why were you even on the phone with him, witnessing this intimate moment?

Your eyes darted between the screen and your own hands, feeling helpless and overwhelmed. "Sunghoon," you finally managed to speak, your voice trembling, "Why are you doing this? Why did you ask me to talk to you while… while you're… doing this?"

The plea in your voice was evident, the raw mix of emotions seeping through. "Please, y/n, just keep talking… I need you right now," Sunghoon urged, his voice heavy with vulnerability and desperation.

He repeated the question once again, his words tinged with a sense of insistence, "Are you looking? Looking?" followed by clarification, "Looking at your screen, at what my camera is focused on y/n."

You swallowed, feeling trapped, your heart racing. The command in his tone was undeniable, and you couldn't help but glance at the screen hesitantly. "Yes," you breathed out shakily, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, I'm looking."

His voice shifted, taking on a more possessive tone as he murmured, "Good girl, now keep talking for me..." The intensity in his words increased further as it was evident that his hand moved faster.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the situation escalating unexpectedly. The mixture of conflicting emotions was overwhelming, and your mind reeled with confusion. Hearing the words “good girl” made your stomach flutter, and the intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't deny him your voice, no matter how strange and uncomfortable this felt. "Okay," you replied, your voice strained, "I'll keep talking for you."

His voice turned demanding once again, his tone dripping with need, "Tell me how you felt when I was gone, tell me how much you missed me." With each word, the yearning in his voice deepened.

The request felt both intimate and manipulative, but you knew you couldn’t deny it completely. You took a breath before finally responding, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

"Sunghoon…" you hesitated, the words catching in your throat for a moment before continuing. "When you were gone, I missed you… a lot. I missed your presence. I missed talking to you, hanging out with you… I missed you."

As you recalled the weight of his absence, the memories flooded your mind. "I could never forget how much pain I went through when you disappeared without a word," you admitted softly, "And now you're back, and it's like all the old feelings are coming back..."

He suddenly broke the heated atmosphere, his voice tinged with remorse as he apologized, "God I'm so sorry y/n." The words were heavy with regret, his breath growing heavier with each moment, each syllable tinged with a hint of desperation. "I—I didn’t know what to do..." His confession hung in the air as he continued to stroke his huge throbbing member.

The pain in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, but his words left you confused. "What do you mean… you didn’t know what to do?" you asked, your voice laced with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I—I didn't know how to handle my feelings for you... When I left," he stammered, his voice quivering with vulnerability. "I was scared. Scared of messing up, scared of hurting you. So I pushed you away, thinking it was the best thing to do."

“F-fuck,” he muttered, quickening his pace. “Please y/n, I’m so fucking close, keep talking for me yeah?”

The pleading in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. It was a strange mix of feelings—a knot in your stomach, confusion, and somehow, a sense of being needed.

"Okay," you murmured, your voice soft and reluctant yet tinged with a hint of submission. "I'll keep talking for you... If that's what you want."

As you continued to watch him please himself, you felt a tingling sensation, bucking your hips up a bit as you let out a quiet whimper. Sunghoon chuckled at your noise. “Are you turned on y/n?”

The question caught you off guard, and you felt an odd mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "W-what?" you stammered, "No, I'm just... I'm just..." You paused, caught in your own reaction, torn between wanting to deny and wanting to admit the truth.

The smirk on his face grew wider as he realized the effect he was having on you. "Say it, y/n," he commanded with a hint of dominance in his tone. "Don't deny it."

Your body responded involuntarily to his words, making it harder to deny. A small whimper escaped from you again, betraying your attempts at denial. "I..." Your voice trailed off, your body shifting restlessly on the bed, a mix of conflicting feelings coursing through you.

He chuckled softly at your response, the sound both smug and seductive. "That's right," he murmured, his voice filled with a hint of satisfaction. "Admit it. You're turned on by watching your ex jerk himself off by your voice, aren't you?

The admission made your face heat up, but there was no denying the truth. "Yes," you confessed in a hushed tone, your voice barely audible, "I am."

The mixture of embarrassment and arousal was overwhelming, and you couldn't deny the effect his presence had on you, no matter how confusing it felt. You then slowly proceeded to slide a hand inside your shorts, moving aside your panties as you started to touch yourself, letting out a loud whimper.

“God y/n,” Sunghoon groaned loudly. “You’re such a slut.” The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but they also sent a wave of guilt through you as a mixture of conflicting emotions coursed through your veins.

“S-sunghoon..” you whined, inserting a finger into your cunt as you thrusted at a quick pace.

Sunghoon's voice took on a teasing lilt as he chuckled and inquired, "Yeah y/n? What is it, what's wrong?" Despite his apparent amusement, there was a hint of concern hidden beneath his words, as if he sensed your unease.

The mixture of the teasing tone and hints of concern added to your confusion. "It’s just… I don’t know if… if we should be doing this," you muttered in between breaths, your conflicting emotions making it difficult to voice your concerns clearly.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“What do miss what you’re looking at right now?”

His question caught you off guard, your mind scrambling for an answer. "I—I miss… your touch," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, "I miss the way you would make me feel with your hands, your lips, your body, your cock…" The guilt gnawed at you, but you couldn’t deny the truth.

A low growl escaped his lips, and he muttered, "Oh god..." The intensity in his voice was palpable as his breathing continued to grow increasingly heavy. “Y/n- y/n m’ cuming—“

Your heart pounded as you heard his words, the mixture of anticipation and guilt still swirling inside you. "Wait, wait," you protested, "Not now, not on camera, please–"

Suddenly, a gush of white liquid squirted out of his cock as it spilt everywhere, a deep loud moan being let out afterwards. You felt yourself getting close sooner than later, adding another finger inside your hole. “S-Sunghoon!” You whimpered, arching your back to the heated sensation.

Sunghoon's breath was heavy and ragged, his chest heaving as he tried to regain composure. A mix of satisfaction and something else lingered in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze still palpable despite the aftermath.

"Y/n..." he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of surprise and a touch of something else. "Show me what you’re doing, turn on your camera sweetie."

You froze, caught between compliance and hesitation. The demand felt like a crossroad, uncertainty and excitement coursing through your veins. But there was curiosity too.

"Come on," he urged softly, his voice almost like a gentle command. "Let me how you’re pleasing yourself to my voice."

The words echoed in your mind, igniting a mixture of desire and vulnerability. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the request heavy on your heart. But slowly, you found yourself drawn in by the allure of his voice, the temptation of obedience growing stronger with each passing second.

"Don't be shy, y/n," he urged gently, "I want to see how much you miss my touch. Show me."

In the face of his insistence, the last remnants of your resistance wavered. Biting your lip, you slowly reached for the camera, your hands trembling with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

“Only two fingers y/n?” Sunghoon scoffed, a clear offence in his tone. “Come on, you know I’m bigger than that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in response. "I know!" you snapped. "I...I can't...I'm trying..." the rest of the words dying in your throat.

His voice turned more domineering as he instructed with a hint of authority, "Put another finger in..." The words left his lips with a subtle demand, as if seeking explicit obedience from you.

Reluctance danced in your eyes, but a part of you couldn't help but react to his tone. Without wanting to, your body responded, submitting to the authority in his voice.

"That's right." He encouraged, a sense of satisfaction and ownership lacing his tone. "That's it, y/n."

The words both grated and excited you. There was a strange sense of satisfaction in obeying, but it only fueled the conflict in your mind. "Sunghoon...I—Im cumming, oh god Sunghoon, I’m so close!" You were torn between seeking release and questioning if this was the right path to take.

"Good girl." He murmured with satisfaction, his voice filled with a mixture of possessiveness and encouragement. "Give it to me. Don't hold back."

The words left you breathless, a mix of frustration and arousal coursing through your veins. You felt both empowered and vulnerable, surrendering to his command yet fighting against the overwhelming rush of sensations coursing through your body.

After what felt like an eternity, you felt yourself reach your climax, your lungs gasping for oxygen as you pull your coaxed fingers out.

Your body trembled with the aftermath, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead. The air was thick with a mix of satisfaction and uncertainty. A heavy silence hung between you both, the weight of the moment palpable in the air.

Sunghoon observed you quietly, his eyes roaming over your disheveled form. There was a hint of a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips, but it was tinged with a trace of concern. "Are you okay, y/n?" He finally asked, his voice soft and laced with a hint of genuine care.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction coursing through your veins. "Yeah," you manage to reply, your voice shaky but laced with a hint of vulnerability, "I think so..."

His words were slurred, a consequence of his intoxication, as he offered a simple, "That’s good y/n." There was a hint of detachment in his tone, suggesting that his judgment was clouded by the effects of alcohol. You couldn’t help but recall your own inebriated state.

A pang of guilt washed over you as you considered both your and his altered states, a nagging feeling of regret settling in. The situation had spiraled out of control, fueled by alcohol and clouded judgment.

You were left hanging once again, the call abruptly ending without explanation. "Great," you thought, feeling frustrated at the abrupt cutoff. The silence that followed was deafening, leaving you with more questions than answers.

You sat there, confused and frustrated, the silence heavy in the air. The sudden disconnect from Sunghoon left you feeling a mix of confusion and irritation after what he just did, after what he showed you. Your thoughts swirled with unanswered questions, the sudden end of the call leaving you with a sense of ambiguity.

You couldn't help but wonder why he had ended the call so abruptly, leaving you hanging without a proper explanation. Questions flooded your mind, and uncertainty gnawed at your core. What had possessed him to do what he did? Was it just the influence of alcohol and his lingering feelings for you? Or was there more to this than what it seemed? You sighed as you put your shorts back on, pulling the covers over your body. You’d just have to wait and confront him the next day at campus.

—

You found yourself anxiously entering the campus the next day, your heart pounding in anticipation of seeing him. Throughout the night, you had replayed the events of the previous evening in your mind countless times, wrestling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you were upset by his actions and the unexpected ending of the call. On the other hand, you couldn't deny the complex mixture of arousal, nostalgia, and longing that had stirred within you.

Every step you took brought you closer to the possibility of encountering him, the idea both thrilling and nerve-wracking. As you navigated the bustling campus, your eyes scanned every corner and hallway, searching for a glimpse of him. Your mind churned with questions, wondering how he would react when he saw you, if he would act as if nothing had happened or if he would acknowledge it.

You spotted Kazuha and Chaewon, seated on a nearby bench. You approached them, wanting to inquire if they had glimpsed any sign of him around.

As you drew closer to the two, you saw Kazuha noticing you, her eyes lighting up with recognition. She nudged Chaewon, who turned towards you as well. A mixture of curiosity and excitement danced in their eyes.

"Hey y/n!" They greeted you with playful smiles, their voices carrying across the space between you. "What's up? You look lost in thought." Kazuha teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

You smiled back, feeling a sense of familiarity in their presence. "Hey guys," you replied, glancing between them. "Have either of you seen Sunghoon around? I need to talk to him."

They exchanged puzzled glances before Chaewon spoke up, "I thought you were over him... Something come up?" Her question was laced with curiosity and concern, as if she sensed a change in your feelings or situation.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "It's complicated," you admitted, your voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. "We had a... weird encounter last night." As the words left your lips, you couldn't help but feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

Kazuha and Chaewon exchanged another glance, their curiosity deepening. They could tell that whatever had happened between you and Sunghoon had left you in a state of turmoil. "A weird encounter?" Kazuha prodded gently, her voice laced with genuine concern.

You responded with mild irritation, "Just—tell me if you saw him today." Although you tried to mask it with a casual tone, the underlying anxiousness in your voice was apparent.

The girls seemed to pick up on the tension in your voice. Kazuha replied after a brief pause, her tone cautious, "We did see him earlier. He was heading towards the library, I think."

Chaewon chimed in, "Yeah, he looked like he was in a bit of a rush though. Maybe he's busy studying or something?"

“Or maybe he’s spending time with that girl he made out with a few days ago..” Kazuha added in a teasing tone.

Your heart sank at the reminder, but you couldn't let your emotions show. "Right," you responded dryly, trying to maintain a facade of nonchalance. "Thanks for the info, I'll go check the library then."

The girls exchanged a knowing glance, sensing the hint of disappointment in your voice, but they didn't press further. "Sure, no problem," Chaewon replied, her tone softening. "Good luck."

You nodded in appreciation before turning and heading towards the library, your mind racing with mixed feelings. The image of him with that other girl resurfaced, stirring up a blend of jealousy and resignation.

As you made your way through the campus, your mind drifted between the desire to confront him and the fear of discovering a painful truth. The walk to the library felt longer than usual, each step weighed down by the uncertainty brewing within you.

The library loomed in the distance, its imposing structure a symbol of knowledge and tranquility. However, today it felt like a place of reckoning, where the truth might reveal itself. Your heart pounded in anticipation, the conflicting emotions raging within you as you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The quiet surroundings engulfed you as you entered the library. The scent of books and silence hung heavily in the air. Your eyes scanned the aisles, searching through the labyrinth of shelves for any sign of him. The silence was broken only by the occasional rustling of pages and soft whispers from fellow students studying.

You moved through the rows of books, your footsteps muffled by the carpet. Each step brought you closer to the possibility of encountering him, and your mind raced with questions. Was he alone? Was he with that girl? Would he be willing to talk?

Your gaze followed the direction of your friends' glances, finding him sitting beside a girl who was quite attractive. The sight of his genuine smile didn't go unnoticed by you, leaving a subtle pang of jealousy in your chest.

You watched from a distance, observing their interaction from afar. Sunghoon looked relaxed and at ease next to her, a genuine smile gracing his lips. The sight of their connection stirred up a mix of feelings within you: jealousy, curiosity, and a hint of disappointment.

The girl was not only beautiful but seemed to effortlessly draw Sunghoon's attention, her every movement capturing his gaze. The laughter that occasionally escaped them added to your unease, each moment making the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

Why was it that every time you tried to move on, it didn’t work? He left you without an explanation, said that he ‘didn’t know what to do,’ and then last night.. last night is something you didn’t ever want to think about at this point.

You couldn't deny the conflicting emotions swirling within you. The mixture of resentment, betrayal, and lingering feelings had left an ache in your chest. Seeing him so comfortable with someone new only amplified the intensity of those emotions.

As you continued to observe, a mix of conflicting emotions flooded your mind. The sight of him laughing and talking effortlessly with the other girl stirred up old feelings of resentment and betrayal. The pang of jealousy intertwined with a hint of disappointment, and the more you watched, the tighter the knot in your stomach twisted.

A part of you yearned for the days when you shared moments like that, when his laughter was reserved only for you. The sight of him finding happiness with someone else felt like a painful reminder of what was lost.

Before your thoughts could spiral any further, something caught your attention. Sunghoon suddenly stood up from his seat, his expression shifting as if sensing your presence.

Your heart skipped a beat as his gaze met yours, a mixture of surprise and wariness crossing his features. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you both locked eyes across the library.

There was a tense silence between you, the weight of your shared history and unspoken words hanging in the air. Sunghoon's gaze lingered on yours for a few moments longer before he slowly turned and walked towards you.

With each step he took, your heart pounded louder in your chest, the anticipation mingling with a hint of anxiety within you. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the quiet library as he approached you, his expression still guarded.

As he finally stood before you, there was a hesitant pause, an air of uncertainty hanging between you. "Y/n," he finally spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and trepidation.

The sound of your name on his lips sent a pang through your heart, stirring up memories from past times. You could feel the weight of his words, the weight of the history that laid between you.

"Can we talk?" he continued, his gaze searching yours for any hint of your feelings. "In private, please."

A scoff escaped your lips as you concluded, "I think I already know what’s going on," indicating your suspicion over the situation. Without another word, you turned and started walking away, leaving behind your friends and the lingering uncertainty.

Sunghoon watched you walk away, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as you left without giving him a chance to explain. He hesitated for a brief moment, then swiftly turned to follow after you, determined to catch up.

As he caught up to you, he walked alongside you in a hurry, his steps quickening to match your pace. "Y/n... wait," he pleaded, his voice tinged with urgency. "Please, let me explain."

“Explain what Sunghoon?” you snapped as your eyes widened. "Explain that you disappear on me for two years, make out with a random girl, save me from Heeseung at the party, call me to listen to my voice so you can get off, and then go back to another girl right afterwards?" Your words hung heavily in the air, leaving him stunned, speechless for a brief moment.

Sunghoon was momentarily caught off guard by your outburst, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, what girl?" He repeated, a hint of bewilderment in his voice.

"The girl that Chaewon and Kazuha saw you making out with a few days ago near campus!" Your words were laced with anger and betrayal, as the memory of his intimate encounter with someone else still stung your heart.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow in confusion, responding, "What?? I never made out with a girl??" His denial carried a hint of disbelief, as if he couldn’t reconcile your accusation with reality. "You know Kazuha and Chaewon aren’t your real friends, they’re just using you." His words held a warning tone, as if trying to open your eyes to something you had been oblivious to.

Your heart sank at his denial, the conflicting emotions swirling within you. You wanted to believe him, but the image of him with that girl still haunted you. "Why would they lie about something like that?" you questioned, your voice tinged with skepticism and hurt.

Sunghoon sighed, his expression softening as he looked at you directly. "Because they want to cause trouble," he explained, his voice laced with sincerity. "They know our history and they want to stir up jealousy."

Your uncertainty remained evident as you responded, "Okay... But then who's that girl over there?" You pointed out the girl he had been seated with, your gaze full of suspicion and curiosity.

Sunghoon followed your gaze before realization dawned on his face. "Oh, that's my cousin." He clarified, his tone a mix of understanding and surprise. "We were catching up, nothing more, nothing less."

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, feeling somewhat reassured that Sunghoon wasn’t involved with the girl. Your voice turned shy and vulnerable as you asked, "Why'd you hang up yesterday night?" The question lingered in the air, seeking an explanation for his abrupt departure.

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours once more. His tone was tinged with remorse, his voice softer than before. "I... I didn’t want to take advantage of you while you were drunk," he admitted, his eyes searching yours hopefully for understanding.

You posed a straightforward question, seeking clarity, "So then why did you call me? Why’d you—you know…" The direct inquiry hung in the air, demanding a candid answer.

His gaze held a mixture of guilt and vulnerability as he replied, "Because I missed you... I missed your voice more than anything else. I wanted to hear it, to feel close to you even if it was just for a moment." There was sincerity in his tone, a hint of longing in his words.

You desperately wanted to believe his explanation, but the weight of his absence and avoidance for two years weighed heavily on your mind. Your words held a mixture of hurt and skepticism, "But you left for two years and were avoiding me the first couple of days..." Your statement bore the marks of lingering pain, reflecting your lingering doubts about his intentions.

Sunghoon flinched, the weight of your words clearly affecting him. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration and impatience. "Yes, I was avoiding you," he confessed, his voice tinged with a touch of defensiveness. "because I was terrified of losing control if I saw you again."

The librarian, a stern and strict-looking woman, walked up to them, her eyebrow raised in irritation. "Excuse me, but you two are causing a commotion," she scolded, her voice stern and unwavering. "If you don't quiet down, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Sunghoon nodded, acknowledging the librarian's concerns. "Sorry, ma'am, we'll keep it down," he assured, his tone apologetic. He glanced at you, a silent plea in his eyes for you to comply.

You could sense the urgency in Sunghoon's gaze, his silent plea for calm and compliance. Reluctantly, you swallowed your retort and nodded. "Sorry," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

The librarian's stern expression softened slightly, seemingly satisfied with their response. "Good," she nodded, then glanced around the library, noticing the curious onlookers. "Now, please keep it low, or find someplace else to talk." With that final warning, she returned to her desk, resuming her watchful gaze over the library.

Sunghoon gave you a sidelong glance, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. "Seems we've attracted some unwanted attention," he remarked quietly, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Your voice shook with anger and vulnerability as you protested, "This is not something you can just joke about, Sunghoon.” The pain and frustration were evident in your tone, indicating that his actions had deeply stung your trust.

His smirk faded as he caught the anger and hurt in your voice, realizing the weight of his actions. "I didn't mean it like that," he insisted, his tone softer. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

You felt conflicted. On one hand, you were still angry and hurt by his disappearance. On the other hand, his attempt to make light of the situation stirred up conflicting feelings within you. He always had a way of making you simultaneously frustrated and drawn to him.

Sunghoon glanced at the library, noting the watchful eye of the librarian. He knew they wouldn't get a chance to fully talk there without drawing more attention, so he suggested an alternative. "We can't talk here," he stated quietly, his gaze meeting yours. "Why don't you come over to my place?"

A subtle flush of embarrassment crossed your cheeks at his suggestion, the implication of being at his place causing a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "Your...place?" you questioned, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

His response carried a hint of mockery as he retorted, "What? You’ve been there multiple times."

Your cheeks reddened even more at his remark, the memory of your past visits flooding your thoughts. "I know that," you stuttered, your voice betraying your flustered state. "But that was back then."

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, realizing his words had flustered you. "So what? You scared?" he teased, his tone dripping with a hint of playful challenge.

Your eyes narrowed at him, a mixture of annoyance and stubbornness etched across your features. "I’m not scared," you retorted, your voice laced with defiance. "Let’s just go, I don’t have all day."

Sunghoon chuckled, amused by your stubborn attitude. "Okay, tough girl," he teased, falling into step next to you as you headed towards the exit.

The cool air hit your skin as you stepped outside, the sunlight casting a warm glow across the campus. As you walked beside Sunghoon, a mix of emotions swirled inside of you.

There was a faint sense of anxiety, curiosity, nostalgia, and even a hint of excitement at the possibility of getting some answers. The silence between you felt both comfortable and awkward, as if both of you were navigating through uncharted territory once more.

The walk to his place felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. The route, once well-known, now seemed slightly altered, as if time had altered the landscape of the memories that surrounded it.

You tried to push away the thoughts, focusing on the present, yet the weight of the past continued to linger in the air, an invisible presence that followed you both.

As you approached his building, memories flooded your mind—the countless times you had come here, the laughter shared and secrets whispered beneath the roof of his apartment. It was as if the walls held the echo of your shared history, waiting to be stirred by your presence once more.

Sunghoon held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. With a hesitant nod, you stepped inside, finding yourself surrounded by the familiar scent and atmosphere of his place.

The faint aroma of his cologne and the warmth of familiarity engulfed you, stirring up a mix of nostalgia and anticipation.

As you entered the living room, a palpable silence filled the air. It felt as if the room itself held its breath, suspended in the tension between the past and the present.

Sunghoon's footsteps echoed softly as he closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you inside. The sound seemed to amplify the gravity of the moment, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions almost tangible.

You stood there, taking in the quietude, the air between you heavy with anticipation and uncertainty.

The silence stretched on, filling the void with unspoken questions and lingering memories. Sunghoon broke the quiet first, his voice soft and hesitant as he finally spoke. "Wanna have a seat?"

You nodded, your own voice barely perceptible. The room seemed to shrink around you as you followed his gesture, perching yourself on the couch adjacent to the one he chose.

The cushions dipped under your weight, a subtle reminder of the countless moments of comfort shared between you.

As you settled onto the couch, a wave of memories washed over you. The worn fabric, the familiar indentations in the cushions—it felt like time had slipped away, leaving behind echoes of laughter, quiet conversations, and moments of intimacy. You tried to shake off the nostalgia, clearing your throat as you stole a glance at Sunghoon, sitting across from you.

The silence thickened once more, and you could feel his gaze on you. The air felt charged with tension, the weight of the unsaid words and lingering emotions hanging in the space between you. You took a deep breath, mustering the courage to break the silence, but before you could speak, Sunghoon's voice cut through, tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Can I ask you something?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in his voice, the familiar sound stirring memories you thought you had buried deep within. You swallowed hard, nodding slightly, though you braced yourself for whatever question he was about to ask.

Sunghoon paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before finally posing the question that hung heavily in the air. "Do you hate me?" He asked, his voice tinged with a hint of insecurity.

The question struck a nerve, causing a pang of guilt to wash over you. You felt a mixture of defiance and vulnerability rise within you as you replied, your voice laced with a hint of defensiveness. "No. Not Really. What you did was still wrong though. Why? Have I not made that clear to you already? You disappeared for two years, Sunghoon. Two years." Your voice trembled, the pain of his absence evident in your tone.

Sunghoon nodded, his expression tinged with remorse. "I know," he admitted, his voice soft and sincere. "I messed up, big time. I was scared, confused, and I thought disappearing was the easiest way to deal with it at the time." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, a silent plea for understanding etched across his features.

Your heart softened at his words, a pang of mixed emotions coursing through you. You wanted to be angry, but you couldn't deny the sincerity in his voice. With a sigh, you shifted in your seat, your defenses slowly starting to crumble. "Why were you so scared, then?" You asked, curiosity mixing with the remnants of bitterness in your voice.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that revealed his vulnerability. "Because I didn't know if I could control myself around you," he confessed, his voice dropping lower. "I knew how much I still cared about you, how strong my feelings still were. I was terrified that if I saw you again, I would lose control—lose my resolve."

Your heart wrenched at his confession. A mixture of relief and confusion swirled within you. His words both validated and stirred up old emotions. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice as you spoke. "And what about now?" You asked, your voice trembling. "How do you feel now?"

Sunghoon's gaze locked onto yours, his eyes glimmering with sincerity. "I still feel the same way," he admitted, his voice steady yet tinged with vulnerability. "I never stopped caring, never stopped loving you."

You clenched your teeth, frustrated by the emotions swirling within you. "Then why?" You voiced, your tone tinged with a touch of desperation. "Why come back after two years? Why now, Sunghoon?"

Sunghoon tensed, his shoulders visibly stiffening at your question. He could sense the vulnerability in your voice, the desperation for an answer, and it weighed on him.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I came back because I couldn't stay away any longer," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse. "Being away from you... it was killing me. Seeing you from afar, knowing I could never truly be with you, it broke something inside of me."

You clenched your fists, a mix of pain and frustration rising within you. "Where did you go, Sunghoon?" You asked, your voice trembling. "Where did you disappear to for two years?"

Sunghoon flinched at your question, the weight of it hitting him hard. He could hear the pain in your voice, the desperation for answers. He took a deep breath before finally responding, his voice laced with a mix of guilt and vulnerability. "I went back to Korea."

Your heart skipped a beat, confusion and anger swirling within you. Korea? How could he just up and leave like that, disappear without a word, and then simply return as if nothing had happened?

Your voice trembled as you spoke, the hurt seeping through every word. "Why?" You pushed further. "Why Korea? Why did you choose to flee without a trace?"

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture that revealed his inner turmoil. His eyes seemed to search for the right words as he spoke, his voice filled with a mix of regret and vulnerability.

"I... I panicked, y/n," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was terrified of losing control, of the feelings I still had for you. I thought if I left, it would be easier..."

Your heart ached at his confession, a mix of hurt and confusion swirling within you. You tried to force back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Easier?" You repeated, your voice trembling. "Easier for whom, Sunghoon? Easier for you?"

Sunghoon's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet your eyes. He knew the pain and confusion he had caused. "Easier for me..." he admitted softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I was selfish, y/n. I thought running away would make things easier for me, but I never considered the pain it would cause you. Please, let me make it up to you…”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heart, his remorse evident. But you couldn't ignore the anger and hurt that still coursed through you.

"Make it up to me?" You repeated, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "How? By suddenly appearing in my life again? By expecting me to forgive and forget everything?"

Sunghoon's shoulders slumped, his eyes welling up with tears. "No... I don't expect you to forgive me, y/n," he confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. "What I did was unforgivable. But please, I'm begging you, just give me a chance… to show you how sorry I am, how much I still care about you."

Your heart ached at the sight of his tears, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at the strings that still connected you to him. But the pain and anger were too fresh, too deep. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"A chance...?" You whispered, your voice trembling. "How can I trust you, Sunghoon? After everything you put me through, how can I trust that you won't just disappear again?"

Sunghoon reached out, his hand almost making contact with yours, but he stopped midway, remembering the boundaries he had created. He swallowed hard, the weight of your words settling heavy on his shoulders.

“You can't…" he admitted softly, his voice laced with pain. "I don't expect you to trust me right away. But please, give me a chance to prove myself, to show you that I'm here to stay."

Your heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice both soothing and aggravating. You hated the way he still affected you, the way his presence stirred up feelings you had tried so desperately to bury. Hesitantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, the vulnerability in his eyes piercing through the barrier you had built around yourself. "And what if I want to trust you?" You asked softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.

Sunghoon's expression softened, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes. "Then I would do everything in my power to earn that trust back, y/n, no matter how long it takes," he vowed, his voice tinged with sincerity and determination. “I love you, and I never stopped.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice sent a shockwave through you, stirring a mix of emotions you couldn't ignore.

Your mind warred with your heart, conflicting feelings pulling at you from every direction. "But what about us?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Can we ever be... what we were before?"

Sunghoon leaned closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "No," he said softly, his voice tinged with honesty. "No, we can't go back to what we were before. We have changed, and so has our relationship. But that doesn't mean we can't build something new, something stronger... something better."

Tears welled up in your eyes, his words both soothing and aggravating. You hated how he could still make you feel so vulnerable, so weak in his presence. "I don't know if I can do this, Sunghoon," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I don't know if I can risk getting hurt again."

Sunghoon's expression softened, a mixture of pain and understanding etched across his features. "I know, y/n," he said softly, his voice tinged with remorse. "I don't blame you for being afraid.

I don't blame you for doubting me, after everything I put you through. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I've learned from my mistakes, and I'm determined to prove that I've changed."

He closed the distance between you, his forehead gently pressing against yours as he murmured, "Let me show you, y/n, let me take care of you right now.." The tenderness in his tone made your heart ache, his fingers gently wiping away the tears that streamed down your face.

Your breath hitched at his touch, the warmth of his forehead against yours both comforting and overwhelming. Your body trembled slightly, the walls you had built around yourself crumbling, as he gently wiped away your tears.

You wanted to resist, to push him away and protect yourself from being hurt again, but the vulnerability in his eyes tugged at something deep within you. "How?" You found yourself whispering, a combination of fear and hope lacing your voice.

Sunghoon's gaze softened, a mixture of vulnerability and desire visible in his eyes. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your face, the gesture sending a wave of warmth through your body. "Let me show you," he murmured, his voice laced with yearning. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leaned in, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

The touch was like a spark that ignited something deep inside, the weight of their shared history and the lingering chemistry between them undeniable.

As he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, the world seemed to fade into the background. Your heart pounded in your chest, the intensity of the moment overwhelming as your bodies pressed against each other.

Sunghoon's touch trailed down your body, igniting a fire within you that was both familiar and foreign. The kiss continued, a mixture of longing and desperation fueling the connection between them.

His voice trembled with a hint of frustration as he confessed, "I missed your scent so much, y/n, it's infuriating..." His words carried a raw honesty, as if the absence of your presence had deeply affected him.

Your breath caught in your throat, his confession sending a shiver down your spine. The vulnerability in his voice stirred something within you, a pang of sadness mixed with an undeniable connection. "You did?" You whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and longing.

He pulled back slightly, his fingers gently tracing your jawline as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I missed everything about you," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency.

"Your laugh, your smile, the way you would bite your lip when you were concentrating, your gentle touch, the way you fit so perfectly into my arms..."

Sunghoon's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in again, his lips seeking yours in a passionate kiss. His hands slowly began to wander, exploring your body with a fervor that sent electricity through your veins. Without breaking the kiss, his hands slid under your shirt, his touch warm against your skin as he began to gently tug at the fabric, his intention clear.

As the kiss deepened, his hands continued to work, carefully undressing you with an urgency that mirrored the urgency of his feelings. Each piece of clothing fell away, leaving you both vulnerable and exposed yet completely lost in each other.

As the kiss continued, your hands sought him of their own accord, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, your desire to feel his skin against yours overwhelming any lingering reservations. Your touch was both demanding and possessive, a silent plea for the physical contact you had been deprived of for so long.

He briefly broke the kiss, his lips curving into a small smirk as he felt your hands tugging at his shirt. "Oh? Is someone eager?" he murmured playfully, the hint of teasing in his voice heightening your anticipation as his gaze met yours, a mixture of desire and challenge.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, your eyes meeting his with a mix of impatience and surrender. "Shut up," you retorted, your voice a mixture of embarrassment and desire. "Just take it off already…want it off Hoon.”

A low growl escaped his throat at your words, his hands immediately moving to comply, his own desire fueled by your eagerness. As his shirt slipped off, the sight of his bare chest sent a thrill coursing through you, your eyes drinking in the contours of his muscles, the familiarity of his body both comforting and exhilarating. He leaned back in, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss, your hands eagerly exploring the planes of his back.

Every touch intensified the emotions between you, the familiarity of his body igniting memories that fueled the desire coursing through your veins. Between kisses, he murmured, "I missed how you feel... missed everything about you..." His words, laced with the raw honesty of his feelings, only added fuel to the fire, intensifying the need for more contact. He began kissing down your neck, his hands roaming your body with a possessive touch, as if he were trying to reclaim what he had lost.

As his lips trailed downward, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your skin, your body responded eagerly, arching into him, seeking more of his touch and the physical connection that had been absent for so long. With every kiss and every caress, he seemed to unravel something within you, unearthing emotions and desires that you had tried to bury deep.

His mouth eventually trailed lower, a mix of hunger and reverence in his actions. As he moved lower, his hands slid down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, his touch both familiar and yet somehow new, igniting a sense of rediscovery between you. He paused briefly, his gaze locking with yours, wordlessly asking for permission and reassurance before continuing his descent.

Your breath hitched in anticipation, your body responding to every touch and movement, the need for him growing with each passing second. Your hands reached out, tangling in his hair as you gave a subtle nod, granting him the permission he sought. The intensity of the moment hung in the air, the bond between you stretched taut, yearning to be broken and rebuilt in the most intimate way.

As he continued his exploration, his hands gently caressed your skin, his fingers tracing patterns of worship that mirrored the thoughts and emotions swirling within him. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I missed everything about you, how soft your skin is, how responsive you are to every touch..." His words were a mix of praise and reverence, a fervent prayer of appreciation for the body that had stolen his heart.

As he trailed lower still, his lips finding sensitive spots, he murmured between kisses, "I missed the way you taste... the sounds you make when you're lost in pleasure..." His compliments caressed your ears, igniting a fire within you both, the honesty of his words igniting a spark that only heightened your desire for more.

He took his time, exploring you with a mixture of reverence and urgency, his touches both soothing and exhilarating. His lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses and compliments in their wake, each one a reminder of the depth of his affection. "God, I missed how you fit in my arms," he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly, "how your body responds to mine...how perfectly you fit against me."

His hands gripped your hips gently, pulling you closer as he leaned down, his breath warm against your skin. "I'll show you how much I missed everything you have to offer..." he whispered, his voice a mix of need and reverence. As he began to trail kisses lower, he murmured, "Starting with this...if you'll let me."

His touch was gentle, yet firm, a reassurance that he was still there, still wanting and needing you. He paused for a moment, looking up at you, waiting for permission, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness. Your breath hitched in anticipation, the need for his touch coursing through you, both comforting and thrilling. With a small nod, you gave your silent assent, your hands instinctively finding their way to his hair, as if to draw him closer, to guide him deeper.

Sunghoon's gaze darkened, his hands moving in a swift, determined motion. In a single, possessive gesture, he reached for the hem of your skirt, pulling it off with a sense of urgency that mirrored the intensity building within him. The sound of it being tossed aside hung in the air, a physical reminder of the boundaries he was breaking, the barriers he was tearing down.

His gaze trailed upwards, taking you in, drinking in every inch of you. You could see the desire and hunger in his eyes, his pupils dilated, his own need mirrored in the way he looked at you, almost possessively. He reached out, fingers gently tracing along your exposed thighs, as if mapping out every curve and line, familiarizing himself all over again.

You could feel the heat of his touch, the way he caressed your thighs with a gentle yet deliberate touch, as if trying to memorize every inch of you all over again. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, your own desire mirroring his, your body responding as if it remembered every touch, every moment you had shared.

You bit your lip, silently begging for more, your fingers intertwining in his hair, a silent plea to bring him closer. “P-please Hoon..” you whimpered as you bucked your hips up unintentionally.

He could sense the desperation in your voice, the way your body responded to his touch. "So impatient," he murmured, a hint of teasing lacing his words, as his fingers continued to trace patterns along your thighs. "Don't worry, y/n... I won't make you wait too long..." The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of playfulness and hunger that only fueled the fire burning within you.

There was a moment of stillness as he paused, his hands still resting on your thighs, as if savoring the anticipation that hung in the air. Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation through you.

The moment came. His lips brushed against you, the sensation sending a rush of desire through your veins. You gasped, the heat of his breath against your skin, his hands firm against your thighs, holding you steady. And then he began, his tongue exploring you with a mix of familiarity and reverence.

Each touch was deliberate, as if he was trying to memorize the taste, the texture, the feel of you all over again. Words were lost now, replaced by the sounds of desire and satisfaction that filled the air as he continued, his every movement driving you higher and higher, your senses fully consumed.

Your mouth dropped open as he starts flicking his tongue everywhere, his hands keeping your thighs from closing. Tugging on his hair, you buck your hips up into his face again. “Hoon…Oh god..”

Sunghoon continued to explore you with a fervor that only grew with your every response. He could feel the grip of your fingers in his hair, the way your hips bucked up against him. The sounds of your pleasure only fueled his own desire, his hold on your thighs firm, keeping you right where he wanted you.

At your words, a low groan escaped his throat, sending a new wave of sensation through you, the feeling of his lips and tongue, the vibration from his voice, all mingling and building the blissful tension within you.

You couldn't resist, your body reacting like it had countless times before. Your hips bucked again, your fingers digging into his scalp, the need for release overwhelming. "More…Please…" You pleaded, your voice desperate and pleading.

You could feel him respond, his tongue working harder, more urgent, driving you closer to the edge, each second bringing you closer to the release you so badly needed. “Hoon.. I’m so close..!”

You could feel him respond, his lips and tongue matching your pace, eager to bring you to release, his hands holding you tight, keeping your body where he wanted you. His eyes met yours, a silent promise that he would not stop until he had given you everything you needed. The intensity in his gaze only fueled your desire, your body on the verge of crumbling as he continued to drive you closer to the edge.

His movements were relentless, his tongue flicking in all the right places, hitting the spots that made you moan and gasp, causing you to tug desperately at his hair. Your words came more urgently now, almost a plea, as you teetered on the edge of release. "Hoon..I need you..please..!"

Sunghoon could hear the plea in your voice, the way your body reacted to his every touch, and he knew you were close, right on the precipice of release. There was a moment of pause, a brief respite that only heightened the tension between you. His gaze met yours, his eyes dark with desire, silently asking permission, seeking your consent.

Your eyes pleaded with him, your body trembling with need. "Please, Hoon.." you begged, your voice breathless. He nodded, seemingly understanding your unspoken words. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in again, redoubling his efforts, his tongue working even harder, faster.

With a possessive grip, he shifted his hands, keeping your hips firmly in place, and as he continued his ministrations with his tongue, he nuzzled his nose into your clit. The added sensation, the feel of his nose alongside his tongue, sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through your core, setting your nerves on fire. The gesture was a claim, a reminder that every part of you was his, and the combination was almost too much to bear.

You could feel the heat building to an almost unbearable level, your body trembling on the brink of release, every fiber of your being focused on the sensations coursing through you. Your grip on his hair became desperate, your nails digging into his scalp as you tugged, as if trying to anchor yourself to the moment. "Hoon…I think I'm gonna...I'm close…" Your words were a plea, a warning that you were on the edge, teetering precariously between ecstasy and release.

He could hear the plea in your voice, the way your body shook beneath his touch, telling him how close you were. Without losing a beat, he doubled down, driving you even closer to the edge, his tongue working faster, harder, with a sense of urgency that mirrored your own.

Your back arched, your hips bucking up into his face, desperate for that final push over the edge. The sensations were too much, overwhelming and all-consuming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the precipice, balancing on the edge of release. You panted, trying to form words, "Please, Hoon…I cumming! Oh fuck—Sunghoon!”

Sunghoon could sense your body reaching its limit, the tension building with every movement, every lick of his tongue. Your body was wound tight, trembling on the precipice. And then, with a final surge, he pushed you over the edge, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you, washing away the remnants of doubt and uncertainty.

Your cries echoed through the room as you cum all over his tongue. He pulled back, out of breath as you could still see your liquids smeared all over his lips. “Taste so good y/n,” he groaned before connecting his lips back onto yours, his bulge pressing against your thigh.

As he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips, an intimacy that only heightened the connection between you. The feel of his bulge pressing against your thigh was a reminder of how much he wanted you, of the depth of his desire. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, as if trying to erase any distance between you.

The feeling of you touching him, palming his clothed rock-hard cock, was electric, making his breath hitch, a subtle sign of the effect you had on him. He groaned against your lips, his hips instinctively thrusting his hips against your touch, seeking more, craving the connection with you.

With that, he seemed to snap, his restraint crumbling, losing the will to hold back any longer. Without breaking the kiss, he swiftly lifted you up, carrying you with relative ease, his arms securely around you, as if he was afraid you would slip away from him again. In a few swift steps, he had you pressed against the wall, his body flush against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both whole.

With a gasp, you felt the cold wall against your back, the contrast making your skin break out in goosebumps. You wrapped your legs around him Instinctively, seeking to bring him even closer, your body yearning for more, aching for the connection you had been deprived of for so long.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your fingers finding purchase in his shirt, pulling him against you, as if you could never get close enough.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing ragged puffs of air against your skin, the warmth igniting a fire within you. His hands traced the curve of your hips, fingers gripping you possessively, as if to ground himself in the reality of the moment. With a low growl, he nipped at your neck, a silent promise that he would reclaim every inch of you, make you his again.

You tilted your neck to the side, giving him more access, a silent plea for him to continue, to make his mark on you, to claim you as his own. "Hoon, please…" You murmured, your voice a mix of desperation and need, your nails digging into the firm flesh of his shoulders. He responded with a low growl, his mouth exploring your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin, marking you, claiming you. “I want it..”

You could feel the intensity of his desire, his body pressed against you, the hard length of him pressed against your core, a reminder of how much he wanted, needed you. "Please, I need you…" You pleaded, your voice a mix of need and desire, your fingers tracing the contours of his back, seeking more, begging for the connection that had been absent for so long. In response, he groaned against your neck, his hands gripping your thighs, hoisting you up higher, pressing himself even closer, as if trying to fuse together.

"God, I need you so badly, how can you drive me this crazy," he muttered, his voice husky with arousal, as he continued to mark you, leaving a trail of bruises down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing against your heated skin, making you shiver. "Please, let me, I can't hold back anymore! I need you inside Hoon!”

The desperation in your voice, the way you pleaded for him, only fueled his desire, his need to have you more urgent than ever. "I need to feel you," He muttered into your neck, nibbling slightly at the sensitive skin, the gesture sending a shiver up your spine. "Please, let me show you how much I missed you."

Your body was overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch, every caress igniting a fire within you, making you ache for more. "Yes, yes, please Hoon," you gasped, the need for him almost unbearable, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. With a low growl, he claimed your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue seeking entry, seeking to devour you completely.

He kissed you with a fierce hunger, his hands dropping to the waistband of his joggers, fingers hooking into the fabric. In one swift motion, he pushed his pants down, a silent command that spoke volumes about the extent of his desire for you.

Once the clothing was out of the way, he cupped your thighs, his touch possessive, as he pressed the length of himself against your core, his voice a deep rumble in your ear. "Feel that? How much I want you? How much I wanna ruin your tight little pussy?”

"Yes, Hoon, I feel it," you breathed, your voice ragged with need, your body arching into him. "I want it, please..." Your words were a plea, a desperate cry, the need coursing through your veins, making you ache for him in a way you'd never experienced before.

He could feel your desire, the way your body reacted, the ache for him evident in every movement, every gasping breath. With a low groan, he rocked his hips against you, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through both of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, murmuring into your ear, "Tell me again, how much you want it, love…"

Your breath hitched as he rolled his hips against you, the sensation driving you wild. "I want it, Hoon, so badly," you gasped.

He could hear the need in your voice, the way you begged for him, it drove him even more wild. "How badly?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his lips brushing against your neck.

Your body responded to his touch, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer, desperate for more. "So badly, so badly… please," you pleaded, your voice trembling, your body on fire with need.

With a growl, he gave you what you both needed, his hands gripping your thighs as he entered you with a single, firm thrust. "God, love, you feel so good," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he started moving inside of you slowly, his hands trailing all over your body. “So perfect y/n.”

The feeling of him inside you, the sensation that both filled you and left you aching for more, made you cling to him, your fingers digging into his skin, desperate for purchase, as you cried out. "Yes, yes, don't stop, please," you pleaded, your words a mix of need and desire as you pulled on his hair, feeling your tits bounce as he pounded into you relentlessly. “You feel so good Hoon!”

Each movement, each thrust was like a spark, igniting a fire within you, burning away all the memories of the past, the doubts, and the fear. He was all that mattered, and you would have him.

He groaned into your neck, his movements growing more frantic with each passing moment, driven wild by the sound of your voice. "Harder? Is that what you want, love?" he breathed, his fingers gripping your thighs, hoisting them up higher as he continued to pound into you, slapping noises filling the room.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, your voice breaking as you cried out, "Sunghoon—Sunghoon I’m so close! Please…!”

He could hear the desperation in your voice, could feel the way your body tensed, teetering on the edge of oblivion. "Hold on, love," he murmured, his voice ragged with his own need, "cum for me like a good girl, yeah?”

His words were a command, a plea, a promise, and that was all it took for you to release all over his cock. After one final thrust, you feel him gushing into your core. “Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out to see a mixture of both your liquids spilling out of your cunt.

“S-Sunghoon…” you breathed out, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “Wow…”

He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you close. He didn't speak for a moment, just held you as he slowly caught his breath.

Then, after a few moments, he spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Wow indeed," he murmured, a hint of a smile in his voice, his fingers tracing lightly over your back.

"That was…" he trailed off, his breath still ragged, his body trembling slightly with the aftershocks of pleasure. "I missed you so goddamn much," he admitted, the words heavy and heartfelt.

He held you close for a few more moments before pulling back slightly, his gaze still locked with yours. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle. "Let's go get cleaned up, alright?" he said softly, his voice still a bit ragged, but with a warmth that made your heart flutter. You nodded, and with that, he guided you towards the bathroom, his hand holding yours tightly, as if he never wanted to let go again.

I love this so much

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pasukiyo · 1 year ago

Text

A PLACE IN THE SEA OF STARS

anakin skywalker x f!naberrie!reader word count: 10.4k (my longest yet... i'm so sorry) warnings: two idiots pining, pining, reader is padme's younger sister (whether biological or adopted is up to you), first time having sex, soft smut, angst synopsis: a life spent in padmé amidala's shadow and never once did she ever think she'd be envious of her sister. that is, until anakin skywalker walks his way into her life and she finds herself praying that one day, he'd look at her the way he does at padmé, that she'll be given a place in the sea of stars, that her destiny will include him.

read on ao3

It came as no surprise that Anakin Skywalker would be enamored with her second-to-oldest sister.

After a life spent behind Padmé Amidala’s shadow, she’d grown accustomed to it— being overlooked. But for once, just this once, she wished history wouldn’t repeat itself, wished the prophecy could be rewritten and for once, let it be her who was chosen, who was noticed.

But of course, it’s futile.

You can sink to your knees and pray to whatever higher being is in the sky but at the end of the day, there are millions of lost souls just like you doing the same. You can have faith, you can believe that someday you’ll be heard but with each silent day that passes, your voice still falls on deaf ears.

She’s done her time playing the fool who sinks to her knees and pleads with the night sky to find her a place in the sea of stars, so that she may fit in a constellation too. She’s been the statue who's been made to wait— and she’s started to crumble.

She remembers the day she started to pray like it was yesterday. It was the day she first met Anakin Skywalker, back when he was only a Padawan, still searching for his own place in the world. Her parents were restless then, having heard of the multiple assassination attempts on their dear second oldest daughter. Of course she was worried too, but she still could feel the guilt that settled into the marrow of her bones when she found herself pondering whether her parents would react the same way if it had been her life at stake instead.

She remembers helping her eldest sister, Sola, and her mother with dinner in preparation for the arrival of their sister Padmé and her Jedi escort. She’d been tasked with bringing a bowl of fruit to the table and she remembered nearly being trampled over by her nieces, Ryoo and Pooja, as they squeal Padmé’s name, sprinting for the door.

She remembers huffing, mumbling a curse in an alien language beneath her breath just as their guests step inside, looking up from where she leaned over the table, dropping the bowl down onto the surface. She remembers her breath catching in her throat when her gaze found a sea of blue that put the Naboo waters to shame.

Padmé’s lips curved into a grin as she exclaimed her sister’s name, circling the table to capture her in an embrace. Her sister wrapped her arms around her and her chin found Padmé’s shoulder as the blue that took her breath away crashed into her and she swore everything changed in that moment.

She remembers the first time Anakin Skywalker looked at her. It was a brief, friendly locking of the eyes but a fleeting moment for him felt like lightyears for her. His eyes were the blue of the water where the sun’s reflection gently ripples and warps. They were the blue of the sky after it rains and the sun begins to spill through the cracks of the wall of clouds.

She’s never understood what it meant to be speechless, for something to literally steal the breath away from her lungs. But from the moment her eyes met his, she began to understand.

“Anakin! This is my youngest sister,” Padmé announced, pulling away from their embrace. Her spine stiffened when her sister introduced her and she watched as his full, pink lips moved to form her name. His voice is like nails scraping against the itch she can’t reach on her back, his voice is like velvet she can swallow, deliciously soft and rich against her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Anakin dipped his chin in greeting, the silly, little braid falling off his shoulder. She drained the lump that had formed in her throat, bowing her head. Her lips trembled and her breath was shaky as she prepared her salutations but her words fell dead on the tip of her tongue when Padmé’s squeal permeated the room.

“And my eldest sister Sola!”

And just like that, all attention rolled away from her and onto her eldest sisters but she still watched him, heart beating against her chest.

And that was the moment she began to pray.

She prayed, even though the looks he’d given Padmé didn’t go unnoticed. The way he watched her, even when she wasn’t the one speaking, the way he’d soak in every word, every praise for her that fell past her parents’ mouths. The way he stared longingly at her sister when he was certain nobody was watching— and no one was, for their attentions were on Padmé, save for hers.

It was typical.

It should come as no surprise that everyone would worship the ground her sister— the former Queen, current Senator of Naboo— walked on. She’s not surprised that someone young and benign like him would fall in love with her sister— she’d only seen it happen more times than she ever really cared to count.

And she’d never really cared about all the suitors on their knees at Padmé’s feet before— they were her sister’s problems, not hers. She’d never even really envied her sister, at least in that sense.

But everything changed the moment Anakin stepped through the door. Everything changed the moment their eyes met, if only for the most fleeting of seconds.

So she prayed.

Inside the inner realms of her mind, she sinks to her knees and stares into the void above her, the stars that beamed down at her twinkling, almost as if they taunted her. She swallowed her pride, folding her hands together and raising them to her chin, brow dipping as she pleaded with the higher being in the sky to hear her cry.

“Please, hear me, Maker,” she whispered into her mind, externally staring at Anakin, internally losing her gaze amongst the stars as if the Maker himself would appear between them. “Hear my plea. Whatever destiny you’ve pre-written for me, please be sure it includes Anakin Skywalker.”

She didn’t see Anakin Skywalker again for another year after that.

Apparently, being a Jedi means he’s constantly from place to place, but next time they do end up in the same place, it’s even more fleeting than the last. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever see him again, if she was foolish to continue hoping that he might notice her, that he might even love her. But she still remembers the way his eyes flickered in recognition when they caught hers across the courtyard of Theed Royal Palace. His hair was longer and he didn’t have that ridiculous braid or tiny ponytail on the back of his neck anymore. The Chancellor was speaking to him and another Jedi with umber hair and a matching beard, but his attention was on her.

He looked… darker. As if the years of war had finally begun taking its toll on him. But he’s still the same man he’s always been, still the same one she’s dreamed about. He even looked better.

They don’t get the chance to talk, only share knowing glances, as he was on duty and their paths unfortunately didn’t cross. But that gleaming in his eyes, the one that blazes with knowing is all the kindling in the pit of her belly needs to bloom, to blossom into a raging wildfire.

So, she prayed again.

“Maker,” she said into that night sky inside of her head. The stars shone brighter, as if to laugh at the foolish girl beneath them. She ignored them of course— because she truly believed that one day, she’d prove them wrong. “Please. Hear my plea. Let Anakin Skywalker see me again. Give me a place in your sea of stars and make sure it is in Anakin Skywalker’s orbit.”

She doesn’t see him again for another two years.

But still, he lingers, just like a phantom weaving through every corner she passes, cloaked in shadow. She sees Anakin Skywalker everywhere she goes— in the lakes of shining waters out in the country, in the rain that falls on a dark, cloudy day, in the litany of stars that idle in the sky.

She sees him in her dreams, staring the way he did at Padmé. Only, in her dreams, his gaze finds her. Almost like he had that day in the courtyard, but in her dreams, his eyes would linger longer.

His voice calls out to her whenever she’s sleeping and it lingers in gooseflesh on her skin, frosting over her bones. She’ll open her eyes when he calls but she’s never truly awake. Alas, if dreaming is the only way she’ll see Anakin Skywalker again, she’d gladly succumb to her sleep and trick herself into believing it is real.

Except tonight, she does not think she can take it much longer.

“Anakin,” she whispers one day when she peels her eyelids open after he calls. She says his name like it’ll be the last time she ever will. That look is on his face again— the one she’s seen so many times directed at her in her dreams, she’s nearly forgotten it wasn’t meant for her in the first place.

She used to wake and long for sleep to come again, just so she could watch him look at her like that.

But three long years of waiting and foolishly praying to beings who do not hear have begun to rust the illusion she’s deluded herself into hopelessly believing in. Three long years of silence and she’s finally cracked. She is broken— she sees it now. She’s grown weary of hoping he’d be the one to fix her.

His lips curve to form a smile and for three years, she’s fooled herself into believing it could be for her— truly be for her, outside of her dreams. But to be forthright, she’s tired. She’s grown tired of pretending, tired of clinging onto the dying embers of mere memories of how a man looked at someone that wasn’t her— but rather her sister. She’s grown tired of hoping, waiting, praying that one day, he may wander back into her life and thread his way into the tapestry that her destiny’s been woven into.

Tonight is the night she forfeits with her palms to the sky, tonight is the night she yields to the stars that have taunted her for far too long and admits her defeat. That they were right all along. Tonight is the night she blows away the ashes she’s desperately held so close to her chest and sealed away in secret urns inside for far too long.

Tonight is the night she lets go.

When she wakes the following morning, birds chirp outside her window. Sunlight spills into her room as it rises over the mountains across the lake and she yawns, stretching her arms over her head. Today is merry— it is the day her sister, Padmé Amidala, marries.

Today is merry but instead, she feels dread seep into the marrow of her bones. She’s happy for her sister, really, she is, but it serves only as a reminder that her time is ticking, and time has turned vexing. It serves as a reminder that she must make haste to find her own purpose, to find someone who will cherish her the way she’s spent many fortnights dreaming about. Sola’s already married and found her purpose, and Padmé’s had her entire life laid out before her since she was only fourteen years of age.

Sola, the wife and mother, Padmé, the Queen and then the Senator, and then there’s her. Unsure. Undecided. An ellipsis.

She’s envious. How could she not be? She’s envious that she’ll never be the perfect mother like Sola, envious that she’ll never live up to Padmé’s legacy, she’s even grown envious of the stars: they simply idle in the night sky but even their idleness has a purpose because their places have reason, to create constellations that in turn, tell stories.

She knows that after today, the pressure of fulfilling whatever destiny’s been written for her will only further suffocate her. She will suffocate beneath the weight of this pressure and she will be expected to continue breathing. She’s tried for so long to keep the air in her lungs but it’s so hard when with each day that passes by, the darkness grows more appealing.

She’s tried so hard to find the right path she’s supposed to take, but there are so many roads, so many choices and so many consequences. She’s afraid— and it’s why she’s allowed herself to hide in her sisters’ shadows for so long. But it feels so stifling now.

She sighs and blinks up to the terracotta ceiling. And then of course, dread wears her bones for an entirely different reason. Because it’s inevitable that she’s going to see Anakin Skywalker today. And things will be different.

It’s been lingering like an annoying, little insect since Padmé announced she’d invited her Jedi friends to the wedding, ever since she heard Anakin’s name being read off the list. Things were certain to change because he is but a mere guest, and not the groom.

It may have come as no surprise that Anakin would fall for her, but it certainly came as a shock that Padmé wouldn’t fall for him.

It makes her flesh blaze with a strange anger she’s not quite sure how to describe. How could her sister have something she so desperately wanted but not pursue it? How could she reject Anakin when he would willingly break and bend to her every whim? Why must her sister take his infatuation for granted— why could it not be given to her instead?

She thinks it must be some cruel trick the Maker is playing on her, dangling Anakin in front of her like that, cursing him with an unrequited love when she was right there. She thinks it must be the Maker’s— damn him— cruel way of taunting her, as if the sneering stars had eyes, his eyes. Even if part of her is relieved Anakin is not marrying her sister, it still feels like a blaster wound to her chest, puncturing her skin and searing her insides.

She hears her name called from outside her room’s door and groans.

“What do you want?” She replies in displeasure as the door slides open. Her eldest sister, Sola, steps into the room and glowers at her youngest sister’s tone.

“Well, good morning sunshine,” Sola remarks and she rolls her eyes. Sola makes her way towards the bed, dropping a dress the color of fire onto the mattress. “Is there a reason for your ill-temper today?”

She pushes herself to sit upright, wrinkling her nose at the dress as she takes a fistful of it in her hand. “Orange?” She scoffs, tossing it back down onto the bed. “I thought we were wearing blue?”

Sola shrugs, plopping down onto the mattress. “Padmé changed her mind last minute,” she says. “I suppose if we wore blue, we’d mesh with the background, don’t you think?”

She sighs and flops back down against her pillows, one arm folded over her stomach, the other folded behind her head. Sola pokes her forefinger against her knee and she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at the ceiling.

“Now, answer the question,” her oldest sister insists. “What’s the matter with you?”

Her eyelids flutter closed and she wishes more than anything that she could simply wink out of existence. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be here for Padmé, she does, but she’s uncertain how she could possibly explain how she feels to Sola in a way she could understand. It’s exactly this that’s made her feel so alone all these years.

She’s never had someone who could understand her, really get her. She’s always been different from her sisters, even before marriage and coronations and political promotions. It’s something she’s certain her sisters have known, that even her parents must’ve known. She’s never been jovial and nurturing like Sola, or clever and independent like Padmé. She’s always preferred silence and privacy, and maybe that’s been her problem. But it’s all she knows, being alone.

Sola’s never spent years yearning for a boy who yearns for another, so she couldn’t possibly understand. She doesn’t think she could even make her understand.

She sighs, lolling her head to the side until her gaze finds Sola’s.

“Not looking forward to wearing that dress for the entire evening,” she says instead. Sola’s eyes roll and she leans over to pinch her calf beneath the covers. She hisses and swats her sister’s hand away as she clicks her tongue, moving out of the way.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Sola tries to reason.

“It’s hideous,” she deadpans.

Sola deflates with the acceptance of her defeat. She grabs her sister’s knee, giving it a shake. She glares at her older sister.

“Come on, that can’t be the only reason why you’re in such a foul mood,” Sola insists, her bottom lip rolling in a pout and she swears it’s almost comical how her eldest sister can act like such a child. It’s a wonder how she has children of her own.

She blinks at Sola as a sort of realization creeps onto her eldest sister’s face and she blinks, internally grimacing. For she knows that whatever is bound to come out of her sister’s mouth next is going to be completely and utterly wrong.

“I think I get it now,” Sola’s tone is softer, her face falling to match it. “You’re upset you’ll be the last of us to be married.”

And there it is.

She internally cringes at just how wrong Sola is but she says nothing, further prompting her sister to lean forward, reaching for the hand that rests on her stomach. Her muscles stiffen when she takes it and she wills herself to stay still. It was better to let Sola say whatever she had to say than recoil and deny it— it’s not like she had any better excuse anyways.

“I know it can be tough,” she begins. “Feeling like you’re left out. Believe me, I had my fair share of it. I was so jealous of yours and Padmé’s relationship when you were younger because I was so much older, I felt like I just didn’t quite fit in with you two.”

Her eyes finally meet Sola’s and she begins to see her eldest sister in a different light. All this time, she’s believed she’s the only one who’s felt this way— lost, left behind. While this isn’t quite the same context, she still feels her heart tremble in her chest for her sister, still feels like something’s shifted. It’s at least one thing they can understand each other on.

“But then, I found my husband. And then I had Ryoo and Pooja,” Sola continues. “And it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

Sola’s grip tightens around her hand and she leans forward to place her other one on top. “I know it must seem hard, seeing as both Padmé and I are married— well, almost anyway.” Her lips curve into a soft, reassuring grin. “But you’ll find that same happiness one day. I just know it. So don’t fret, little sister.”

And there, she fears, is where her sister misses the plot.

She almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous this all sounds. She remains silent, however, and Sola gives the back of her hand one last reassuring pat before she lets go, sliding off of the mattress.

“Anyways, I’m going to breakfast. You should come too before all the blue waffles are gone.”

She watches as her eldest sister slips out of the room, the door sliding closed behind her and she sighs, digging her knuckles into her closed eyelids until the galaxy shimmers before her. How could Sola have come so close to understanding her one minute only to read her so wrong the next?

She doesn’t make any effort to get out of bed and in all honesty, she wishes she could simply stay here forever, or at least for the rest of the night. At least long enough that she doesn’t have to face Anakin Skywalker.

Because even though she’s already promised herself that she’d let him go, she wasn’t entirely certain she could hold true to her own word when she sees him again.

The day goes by in a blur. In the blink of an eye, she’s wearing a satin dress in that deep orange she finds hideous beside Sola who stands beside Padmé. Padmé stands facing her husband-to-be, fingertips delicately placed in his palms as they recite their vows.

The sun paints the villa’s terrace with an orange glow and she watches it sink beneath the mountains across the lake from the corner of her eye. The sunlight looks like fire rippling in the gentle waves of the water below and she has to look away because she thinks of Anakin, how his eyes glimmer just the same.

She’s determined to keep her gaze away from the audience, however, because she knows he’s there, the incarnation of all she’s ever wanted, of all her bad ideas, of everything she cannot trust herself with in one. She searches the ground below, watches the way her dress ruffles with the breeze, like fire askew in the wind.

Padmé says something that makes the audience erupt in laughter and it startles her, so much that the hair on the back of her neck erects. When she flinches, she makes the mistake of blinking up— right into the eyes she’d been bound to avoid all night.

The world around Anakin Skywalker seems to stir until it’s all wet, blurry hues of orange, green, and white. Anakin is the only one she sees in high resolution— she can see every lock of wavy, dark blonde hair, every rippling wave in his irises, the scarlet line that slices just beside his right eye. She’d never seen this scar before— it must be new.

But what’s the most peculiar of all is that she meets his eyes— she meets his eyes. She’d blinked up to find he’d already been staring, already transfixed on her by the time their gazes met and his eyes had illuminated with that same knowing gleam she’d seen in them that day in the royal courtyard.

Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she is not in a dream. It’s both momentous and utterly devastating all the same.

She isn’t quite sure whether to look away or not. This is what she's mooned over more times than her pride will allow her to admit. She’s dreamed this many nights, for Anakin Skywalker to simply look at her and now he is. Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she should feel elated but instead she feels… conflicted.

Does her heart flutter in her chest? Sure.

Does her stomach twist itself into knots? Certainly.

She felt so confident just the night before when she threw her hands up in surrender to the black sky, admitting her defeat to the stars who spent many moons mocking her that she was done. She felt so confident that she was ready to move on, to let go of this desire she’s harbored for Anakin for so long.

With the simplest of looks, Anakin Skywalker has proven capable of crumpling the paper walls she’d placed around herself. She was left feeling feeble, exposed and any sense of courage she thought she had was now lost.

Because three years of waiting and praying to higher entities who did not hear her pleas could not cease overnight. Her attraction to Anakin Skywalker could not cease in hours. She thought she’d extinguished the last flames of her withering hope but, as it turns out, a single dying ember remained. It means a part of her still yearned for him. A part of her still burned for him.

She wonders now, that he’s still looking at her, what possibly goes on inside his head. Why does he look at her now? Why does he stare, why do his lips twitch before curving in a smile when their eyes meet, why do they irradiate the longer her gaze lingers on his? Why does he not look sad at the wedding of the woman he loves? Why does he not even look at Padmé?

Her mind swirls like a tempest— churning with unhinged, vicious anguish. She has to look away before the acid that bubbles in her throat can come to fruition but she can’t, and Anakin seemingly can’t tear his gaze away from her either. It’s all the more sickening and earth-shattering nonetheless. Her heart swells and pounds in her chest, the border of her vision beginning to blur with the familiar sting of tears. Her head is aching and it’s all just too much— she needs an escape.

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”

She blinks away her emotion to the best of her ability, using the end of the ceremony as an excuse to look away as the crowd around her thunders with applause. Her mind is reeling and she feels like her head is spinning as she subconsciously claps her palms together, the sound muffled like water in her ears. The watercolor around her stirs until it’s clear again and the entire world suddenly seems to move again— it’s her, this time, that’s in slow motion.

The cheering sounds like thunder, the applause like rain pelting against a window, and her mind begins to crumple, just like metal. She longs for escape, to flee and to be beside herself for the rest of the night. Padmé and her husband begin walking back down the aisle as their guests congratulate them, tossing flower petals into the air above them. She thinks that this is her chance to escape, she thinks everyone is distracted enough that no one will notice her leaving.

They never cared to notice her before anyways.

She begins to shuffle away but she doesn’t make it very far before her stomach lurches when someone clasps a hand around her wrist, tugging her forward. She snaps her head to the source to find her eldest sister, Sola, with her face illuminated by a grin.

“Come on!” Sola exclaims, dragging her down the aisle and back inside the villa. “It’s time to party!”

Dread drains the blood from her cheeks but she’s given no time to protest before she’s being dragged down the aisle, right past Anakin Skywalker. She doesn’t dare look up but she feels him when she passes by, a mere brush of the arms, the feeling of his elbow brushing going just as fast as it came.

And it’s still enough to make liquid of her insides.

She drowns in a sea of people as she and Sola find Padmé, wrapped in their mother’s arms. She can hear her heart drum in her ears as Sola releases her hand to draw Padmé into an embrace, tears streaming down the apples of her cheeks. Everyone around her is so happy and she should be too— but she still feels like she’s beside the altar, caught in the trap Anakin has seemingly laid out for her.

A tear that’s been painfully dormant in her eye falls and she’s certain her distress shows on her face but it must be easily mistaken for tears of joy, because Padmé pulls away from Sola to turn to her, drawing her in for a hug. Her sister’s arms wrap around her body, a palm on her back, the other cupping the back of her head. Even Sola reaches forward to give her upper arm a reassuring squeeze, undoubtedly thinking back to the conversation they’d had earlier.

“Don’t cry for me, baby sister,” Padmé laughs tearfully beside her ear. She can feel Padmé’s smile against her shoulder. She pulls away and rubs her palms up and down the length of her arms. “I’m still the same Padmé I’ve always been.”

She’s unable to reply— again, she’s misunderstood. But it’s her sister’s wedding day, she won’t burden her with her own confliction. So she swallows the boulder-sized lump in her throat, curving her lips just enough to form a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m just… happy for you,” she manages. Padmé cups her cheek and soothes the pad of her thumb over her skin before Ryoo and Pooja draw her attention away. Padmé’s hands fall from her arms and finally, she can breathe.

But even that is momentary.

“You make a perfectly fine bride if I do say so myself, Senator.”

Her spine stiffens. She knows that voice. And she knows exactly who is near when she hears it.

Padmé laughs and tosses her hands. “Obi-Wan,” she greets him just like an old friend would, pulling him in for an embrace. “And little Ani.”

How is it that she’s already seen him more tonight than she has in the past three years? She sees Anakin’s dark boots from the top of her vision, not daring to tear her gaze from the ground.

“Padmé,” Anakin’s deep, enriching voice sounds and rumbles deep in her belly. She shifts uncomfortably where she stands, desperate to flee. She thinks she can manage it now— Obi-Wan and Anakin are engrossed with Padmé now, right?

She begins to make her first attempt of escape, taking slow, careful steps to the side until her second effort crumbles when Anakin speaks her name.

Ice frosts over her spine and she’s no choice but to acknowledge the man she was so intent on avoiding the entire evening. Padmé and Obi-Wan are engrossed in their own conversation but Anakin’s gaze remains on her, eyes even sparkling when she finally meets them.

Her mouth is a desiccated oasis and her throat feels like a desert as it constricts painfully when she swallows. Still, she manages to breathe out, “Anakin.”

It’s the first time she can ever recall having a true, proper conversation with him. The last time being when they said their goodbyes that very first time before he and Padmé left for the Lake Country. It’s confusing how this is everything she’s ever wanted yet, she feels an urge to push it all away.

Anakin clears his throat and his eyes flicker to his feet for a moment as if he could possibly be nervous before they find hers again. “You look good,” he says and her heart stops beating in her chest. “That dress is beautiful on you.”

She thinks she could punch him.

Or kiss him.

She has to look away, or she may very well do the latter.

She wonders if this is some cruel, senseless joke the Maker is playing on her. She wonders if she’d upset him by unlatching herself from his hook and this is his way of reeling her back in. She hates that it has the potential to work.

“I…” she stammers and closes her lids frustratedly, willing air back into her lungs. She shakes her head— she cannot be here any longer. She may very well explode if she has to succumb to this torture for even a second more. “…thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

And then, she bolts.

She’s lost track of how long she’s been locked in her room, sitting in the window, staring at the moonlight that ripples in the water below. It was long enough for the chatter downstairs to quiet to murmurs until it finally ceased altogether. The villa is now quiet and suddenly, her room feels suffocating.

With a sigh, her feet meet the floor and she pushes away from the window seat, cupping her neck to roll it around her shoulders as she pads towards the door. It slides open and she slips through, making her way down the hallway leading towards the main foyer. Her dress flows behind her like flames in the wind, the satin cool against her legs as she walks. Fresh, night air greets her and she inhales, letting it flood her lungs as she saunters to the wide terrace ahead.

She stops at the stone arches of the railing and exhales, feeling the wind sift its fingers through her hair, breathing on her skin like a lover in the throes of passion. It caresses her neck and rolls down her back, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

She’d spent many nights just like this one. Staring at the moon rippling through the water, at the stars that twinkle overhead, the sky that blackens behind them. She’d spent many nights praying, releasing her pleas into the air and letting it drift away with the breeze.

She does not pray this time. When she lifts her head to brave the dark that faces her, she merely asks why.

“Why, Maker,” she whispers beneath her breath. There’s an edge, a strain to her voice that stings her throat, that feels like daggers to her chest. “Why must you be so cruel? I have done everything, I have given you everything. Why wasn’t it enough? Why do you mock me now?”

The stars overhead gleam as they cackle, sneering at the misfit below. “You’ll never have a place among us,” they seem to say. Tears well in her eyes and she drops her head, fingernails scraping the stone edge of the railing. She leans back on her heels and wills herself to breathe before a sob could wrack her body.

She feels lost and utterly alone, and she truly begins to feel like the weight of this prolonged pain has started to fall on top of her. She’s lost and alone and her entire world has started to crumble around her. And then she hears her name.

It’s like the call that haunts her every time she closes her eyes, the same velvety voice that caresses her ear every night when she lies down in bed. But it is not a ghostly whisper this time, because it is real.

Footsteps sound behind her and she further scratches her nails against the railing.

“I was wondering where you wandered off to,” Anakin remarks as he approaches and she can feel him beside her, like a whisper of shadow creeping along her skin. She rolls back onto the balls of her feet and stands straight, sniffing.

“Anakin,” she says, steadily, methodically. As if it took great effort to say it without stammering. She can see him out of her peripheral, dark blonde curls falling when he leans an elbow against the railing, tilting his head in an attempt to meet her eye.

She does not move.

“I was looking for you, you know,” he continues. “You must’ve found a good hiding spot.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I was in my room,” she replies simply, a steely, monotone in her voice.

Anakin inhales and hums. “Then it makes sense why I could not find you. I would never barge into a lady’s room.”

It’s an attempt at humor but she feels anything but. She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place with seemingly no clear solution in sight. She could walk away. She should walk away. She shouldn't spend a single second more in Anakin Skywalker’s presence— she simply couldn’t trust herself to not betray her own vow.

Or she could stay. She could stay and once again succumb to the fool’s game she’s been playing. She could stay and let Anakin Skywalker tie another noose around her neck, allowing him to drag her along for another three years.

She knows what is right. She knows what she should do.

But she’s frozen.

She cannot move, cannot even bring her lips to move so she can speak. She instead wilts, like a rose who once stood beautifully now losing its color, shriveling in on herself until she inevitably withers away.

She can feel Anakin draw himself just an inch closer beside her, and he’s like a single drop of rain that’s enough to somewhat salvage the husk of who she once was.

“Why do you avoid me?” He asks and it’s a question so simply but so damn infuriating all the while. She’s been a volcano in dormancy up until this point, but there’s a rumbling deep within her, threatening to erupt.

“Why are you doing this?” She questions, snapping her head towards him, brows dipped and drawn. Anakin blinks and draws back, a dent forming between his own brows.

“Doing what?” He asks and that feeling of wanting to ram her fist into his face comes back. She turns to fully face him and he pushes off the railing, uncertainty warping his features.

“This,” she gestures between them. “Staring at me. Talking to me. As if we’ve spoken more than hellos and goodbyes to each other.”

Anakin raises a brow, the one his scar pierces, and it warps with the movement.

She continues. “And then you have the audacity to tell me I look beautiful in this gods-awful dress just to spite me.” She is a volcano, no longer dormant, no longer overlooked. She is exploding and Anakin is unfortunate enough to be in her wake.

He shakes his head. “Spite you?” He repeats. She begins to pace, a hand on her hip, the other rubbing her chin. Anakin follows, exactly like a lost puppy. “I wasn’t— I would never—“

“Don’t say you’d never,” she turns on him, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. He blinks from it back to her, that ocean in the irises of his eyes raging, lightning cracking in the sinkhole at its center. She drops her hand and it curls at her side, her fists two shaking balls of fury. Blood bites her cheeks and she thinks of all the times she’s imagined speaking with Anakin Skywalker, of being alone with him.

This certainly was not how she’d ever imagined the scenario playing out.

She inhales. “Don’t say you’d never do anything to spite me while you are actively using me to get over Padmé,” she exhales, braving the stormy sea in his eyes. The tide shifts and his manner does too and she believes she’s already cracked him. She thinks she’s already shattered the illusion he was trying to create, that she’s lifted the wool he’s tried to veil over her eyes.

She thinks that he believes whatever game he was trying to play was over.

Anakin straightens. “You have no idea what you are talking about,” he says and she scoffs, backing away.

“Don’t I?” She retorts. “You don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve always looked at her? How you’ve always loved her?”

It brings her great pain to merely mention it. Her palms wipe at her face as tears begin welling in her eyes again, her cheeks warm as she desperately tries to quell the beginnings of a sob that stutters through her chest. She realizes now that by keeping all of these emotions, these feelings she’s harbored for Anakin for so long bottled has made her restless, has made her tick like a time bomb.

And her time to detonate has come.

He says her name again and tries to step forward, reeling back when she steps away from him. His hand wrapped in a leather glove hovers in the air between them and he drops it with an exasperated sigh.

“Your sister means a great deal to me, yes,” he begins. “But it is not—“

“My sister is the sole reason why you torment me!” She snaps. “And you have no right to use how I feel against me just because she does not love you back.”

Her words are an arrow meant to strike, to pierce through his chest, his heart her target. Her words are meant to cut deep, to draw blood, to make him bleed just like she has everyday since they met. She thinks they will, she thinks her blows will etch deep, will even leave scars in their wake. Part of her longs to see that pained expression upon his face, just like the one she wears now.

But her arrow merely grazes, soaring past until it sinks in the shining waters below.

Anakin’s face shifts but it is not in the way she thought it would, not in the way she hoped it would. His brows dip and his eyes swarm with a pained sort of desperation she’s never seen before in someone. She certainly never expected to see it in someone like him. His chest rises and falls with his breaths as he steps forward again. She stands still, unable to move. She is stunned— Anakin Skywalker has surprised her.

“Padmé does not love me,” he admits. “I met her when I was only a child. The only girl I’d ever seen before her was my own mother. So, of course, I felt drawn to her.” Her jaw tightens and her lips fall together in a firm, thin line. Anakin’s brows knit closer together and there’s a flicker in his eyes that she swears looks like the predecessor to tears.

She doesn’t quite want to believe it. He could not cry.

“And I spent a decade pining, a decade praying that I’d one day see her again, a decade hoping she’d been counting down the days until she saw me again, just like I was.”

She doesn’t believe what she’s hearing. It’s a reflection of her own story, her own foolish pining, her own foolish praying but not hers, but Anakin’s. Her heart stutters in her chest and she forgets to breathe, having to gasp to gather air back into her lungs.

She’s never once felt like she could be understood. She’s never once felt like anyone else could experience the inner turmoil she has, the seemingly fruitless yearning she has.

But she’s realizing now that that's not true. Not anymore, at least. Everything is changing right before her eyes.

“And then I did,” Anakin shakes his head, a humorless laugh leaving his lips. “And I felt nothing. But I tried. I tried to convince myself I loved her. But I just… didn’t.”

Her brow furrows and Anakin’s gaze darkens as it finds hers.

“I spent a decade obsessing over someone I didn’t really know, and how could I? I was a child.” His eyes search hers, searching for something unbeknownst to her. But she lets him. “I didn’t know what love was. All I knew was infatuation. I didn’t know what it meant to truly feel seen, to truly feel drawn to someone.”

Anakin pauses and she gets the feeling that whatever he says next will be calamitous.

“Until I saw you again, that day outside the palace.”

Her lips tremble and her breath shudders, an icy chill frosting over her skin. To think he’s thought about her everyday since their eyes briefly met in the midst of a crowded courtyard was hard to believe yet, when she looks at Anakin Skywalker now, she sees the softening of his brow, the quiver in his lips, the honesty in his eyes.

She’s only ever imagined one look in his eyes. Desire.

But she looks at him now and finds an entire galaxy— there’s longing, there’s earnest, there’s optimism, there’s burning. As it turns out, living creatures are not black and white like she initially thought them to be. Anakin Skywalker is a complex creature, made of flesh and blood and of an intricacy she’d never stopped to consider before.

He’s even better than she’s imagined he’d be.

Every moment spent under the stars, praying that she’d one day have a place among them, that she one day would sit among them with purpose rather than in an ellipsis suddenly begins to feel like it wasn’t all for nothing after all. Every prayer she’s whispered into the night breeze with Anakin Skywalker’s name in it suddenly feels like they begin to matter, like they begin to come true.

Still, she is wary, and Anakin seems to recognize this caution.

He takes a step closer and he steals the breath from her chest, just like he had the first moment she saw him. Her fingers twitch, itching to find his, her palms tingling with the desire to feel his skin, her lips buzzing with yearning. She does not touch him, she does not kiss him, she does not do anything. She simply waits for the rest of his story to unfold and her brain aches with the hope that it will unravel into hers.

“I saw you that day at the palace to find you were already looking at me. That you were already seeing me,” he mutters, a little breathlessly. “It may have been for… for only a moment but when you looked at me, I felt…” he trails off, a furrow in his brow as he searches for the correct word. “…I felt… like something shifted.”

She watches as he rolls his lips together, watches as the moonlight catches how they glisten with spittle. Her breath catches a little bit, her gaze lingering there, her desire to lap it all up flaring.

“It felt like there was a string there between us I’d never noticed before,” he continues. “There was a connection I’d never realized until the moment our eyes met. I felt you, and I felt you see me. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed by since where I didn’t feel you, where I didn’t feel like we were connected, like we were two stars written in the same constellation.”

Her chest rises and falls to the erratic beating of her heart as Anakin draws nearer, the hand with his glove meeting her cheek with a tenderness she’d felt from no one before. She’d never realized how starved of touch she’s been until now and it feels so invigorating. Her stare drops to his lips and she feels that string Anakin must’ve been talking about, feels it drawing her closer into his mouth.

“Padmé does not love me back, and I do not care,” he says in just above a whisper, his voice rising and falling in a way that jellifies her knees, that makes liquid of her insides. “Because I am burning– foolishly, maybe, yes– for you.”

She inhales sharply and it truly feels like all her prayers are finally being answered, like she’s being inducted into her rightful place in the sea of stars. And in her constellation, Anakin Skywalker resides too.

She reaches up with a hand to hold the crook of his elbow that’s strung between them as he brings his other, ungloved hand to rest on her other cheek. She feels his skin on her cheek as the pad of his thumb soothes over the warmth of her flesh and her body quakes with shivers that roll down her spine all the way to her toes. He begins to lean in, his breath hot where it fans against her skin but she tilts backwards, just enough for him to halt, a quirk in one of his brows.

“I will not let you settle for me, Anakin Skywalker,” she whispers, admitting that insecurity still lingers, despite his words. Anakin’s eyes narrow as he uses his hands on either sides of her face to draw her in, his lips but a mere whisper away from hers when he murmurs, “settle? This is not settling. This is binding.”

Then, his lips are on hers in an electrifying bind that shatters her spine with cracks of lightning and she falls into him, her hands on either of his forearms to keep herself steady.

Anakin kisses her with an ardor she could never even dream up in all of her wildest of fantasies. He kisses her and she feels like she finally fits in her dress, as it is the color of fire and she’s engulfed in flames. He kisses her and he is the flame that lights her candle, the flame that melts her from the center, that makes heat course through her that washes all the way down to her toes. He kisses her and she is melting, right into him.

His tongue pirouettes over hers and she hums into his mouth, feeling his fingers thread through her hair. Her heart is pounding and her lips are buzzing but all she feels is Anakin, she feels the muscles in his arms, the warmth that radiates off his body and spills into her. She feels the push and pull of the passion, the yearning he’s kept inside all this time. She feels her own longing and fervor pour into him and they are floating, two clouds that collide into one another to become one.

Anakin steps forward and steps backwards until she hits a wall. When they pull away for breath, she realizes he’s backed her into one of the pillars, a vine caught in the hair on the back of her head. Their chests heave with the weight of their breaths and she watches as Anakin’s hand, not the gloved one, but the one with skin rises, following it as it reaches for her neck. She shudders when he touches her collarbone, exposed from the side of the fiery satin of her dress. His fingertips sear her skin as it drags to the neck of her dress, following the satin where it wraps around her throat, all the way to the back of her neck where the lace falls.

Her breath catches when his fingers find the small strings keeping her dress together. Her gaze finds his again to find he’s already staring, a narrow, earnest look upon his face that darkens his eyes and hardens his features. There is a silent question that hangs in the air between them: “do you want to stop?”

Maybe they’re moving too fast. Maybe this is crazy, maybe they’re simply caught up in the moment, high off the feeling of burning for someone who burns for them too. But after years of pining, of waiting, of praying, it only feels right.

But still, she asks, “what if someone sees? Someone like Obi-Wan who can get you in trouble?”

Anakin shakes his head, “they won’t. Now, I don’t want to talk about Obi-Wan. Do you want to stop?”

The shake of her head is all Anakin needs to see before he unlaces the strings holding her dress together, the satin falling like a spark blazing down the frayed edges of a rope until it pools at her elbows. Her breasts spill from the dress and the night’s ghostly whisper chills her skin, peaking her nipples.

Anakin’s eyes devour and she is prey.

His stare pierces through her skin to the marrow of her bones that catch a chill and she quakes. He meets her eyes again as his hands drift lower, dipping until they finally find her chest. A sharp gasp escapes when his palms cup either of her breasts and she arches into his touch, already aching for more.

“Anakin!” She gasps in a breathy exclaim when he dips his chin to press a kiss over the top of one of her breasts, heat blossoming in his lips’ wake. His eyes catch her again, a little warily. “Is this okay?” He asks, his voice low and gravely, scratching the itch in her brain she didn’t even know she had. It makes her knees feel weak and if it hadn’t been for his body pressed up against hers, she would’ve crumpled straight to the ground.

“Yes,” she breathes, chest heaving into his palms. “I’m sorry, I’ve just… never…”

Anakin’s lips curve and she can see a flash of white peek between them. He shakes his head. “Me neither,” he admits with a breathy laugh and she titters too, grateful for the fact that she’s not the only one who’s a little green.

“Can I keep going?” He questions and his voice is liquid desire, melting straight down to her core. She swallows the lump that’s formed in her throat, nodding. “Please,” she adds, feeling her heart beat straight into his palm.

Anakin’s head dips again and she watches, cheeks warm as he places an open-mouthed kiss just above her nipple. His palm kneads the other breast as his lips venture just an inch lower, finding the peaked bud that awaits, suckling it into his mouth.

It’s like electricity flooding through her veins.

She throws her head back, lips falling agape as her eyelids snap closed, soaking in the pleasure of Anakin’s lips on her nipple. He cautiously flicks his tongue against the bud, watching through his lids as a moan falls from her lips, encouraging him to do it again. He flattens his tongue against her nipple and licks a long, fat stripe from the underside of it up, feeling her tremble in his arms. He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, trailing kisses through the valley between them to make his way to the other.

Touching him, feeling him, kissing him is somehow even better than she’d ever imagined, even after all those years of dreaming for moments like this. She can’t believe she’s gone so long without feeling him like this, she doesn’t think she can ever stop touching him.

Anakin suckles on her breast, flicking his tongue against her nipple as his hand not wrapped in a glove ventures down her body, past her waist, down her hip. He pulls the satin material of her dress up until his arm can sneak his way beneath it and she shivers when his fingers find her center over her underwear. Her nails dig into his sleeves above his shoulders, holding her breath as he finds the wet spot in her underwear, gently pressing against it.

Her hands tighten on his shoulders and ceases all movement, peering up at her. “You’re wet,” he says rather matter-of-factly because of course she is, how could she not be? She nods down at him, swallowing thick layers of saliva down her throat. “Can I touch you here?” He asks and his voice drops to that silky, velvety tone that makes her core ache. She presses her lips together to stifle her groan, head vigorously nodding up and down.

“Gods yes, Anakin,” she moans, slowly rocking her hips against his finger. “Please.”

She feels filthy in a way for asking, for needing friction so desperately. She’s only ever taken her own fingers when she’s too lost in pleasure at night to sleep, never been touched by anyone else but it’s all she craves now, for Anakin’s fingers to touch her, for him— whatever part it may be— to be inside her.

A flame had been ignited in the pit of her belly long ago, back when Anakin first stepped through the door the day they met. It’s sat stagnant for too long, waiting for its moment to further bloom and now it has. It blossomed when her eyes met Anakin’s that day in the courtyard but it’s now in full bloom, now that they burn together, now that his kisses have seared her skin, now that his fingers are pulling her underwear down her thighs, just enough that he can reach her center.

When his fingertips brush her clit, she bursts.

Anakin’s arm wraps around her waist as she practically collapses into him, his middle finger drawing circles against her clit, his breath hot as his lips rest on her brow.

“Is this good?” He asks against her forehead. “Do you feel good?” He questions again as he adds his forefinger to the mix, applying just a little more pressure and it makes her eyes roll.

“Yes, just… just don’t stop,” she exhales, feeling her stomach twist itself into a knot, his fingers against her clit threatening to pull it undone any moment.

So he doesn’t.

He’s unrelenting in the way his fingers press to the aching bud in her center, tracing tight circles until her eyes squeeze closed so hard, milky-ways shimmer behind her lids. He dares venture lower, gathering her slick on the pads of his fingers as he teases near her entrance. It’s a foreign and strange feeling, it’s a pattern she’s traced many times with her own fingers but never been touched by someone else. Even in spite of how many nights she spent trekking that path wishing it was Anakin’s fingers instead, but it’s still strange feeling him there now.

She clutches his arm tighter and he slows, beginning to retract his hand. She stops him, lifting her head until their eyes meet again.

“No,” she pants, shaking her head. “Don’t stop, just… just take it slow.”

He nods, his finger a little unsure as it circles her entrance, unintentionally teasing until she begins to crack. She’s panting, trying to wiggle her hips so that she can draw his fingers in, seeking that feeling of being full. Anakin dips his forefinger into her hole and she tosses her head back, her lips parting for an “oh” to emit.

He watches her face, even if she can’t see it, she can feel his gaze behind her closed lids. He is testing the waters, learning what makes her moan, what makes her squirm, what makes her come. Slowly, he sinks his finger further in and she feels every single millimeter that drags along her walls until he’s knuckle deep. Her legs feel like jelly and her knees begin to wobble, nails clinging to his sleeves like they were her lifeline.

Pressure builds in the pit of her belly as Anakin carefully retracts his finger, just to sink it back in again, a slow, cautious rhythm that leaves her mind spinning. His fingers are so much bigger than hers and she already feels so stuffed despite it only being one finger. Somehow, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“Ana… Anakin,” she gasps, peeling open her lids to find he’s already looking. His finger slows but picks up its pace again when he realizes she’s not in any pain. “Another.”

His brow dips and his head tilts in confusion, uncertain what she means. She gathers moisture on her lips, trying to speak through the pleasure-driven haze in her mind.

“Another finger. Please.”

Their eyes lock and there’s a flicker in his, a hint of doubt.

“Are you su—“

“Please.”

So, Anakin gathers her lips with his and she mewls into his mouth when he presses his middle against his pointer, sinking them into her cunt until they reach as far as they can. She’s trembling against him but he keeps her upright, with his arm and with his lips.

Just one of Anakin’s fingers had made her feel stuffed but two of his fingers made her feel full to the brim. Her walls clench around his fingers and she gasps his name like the beginning of a prayer, pleading for more.

It’s a twist on the prayers she recites to the Maker every night. It’s rewriting her every broken hymn, transforming it into something entirely new. She moans Anakin’s name and his fingers turn it into a song so that she cries like a dove into the night. The Maker may have left her feeling broken, wasted, unimportant but Anakin has found her, patched her up, polished her until she’s brand new.

The tangle in her belly begins to rupture, slowly unraveling and so she pushes his arm away, his fingers sliding out of her cunt, her walls pulsing with the loss. They both pant and Anakin’s face hardens in question as his chest heaves.

“What is it?” He asks, searching her face.

She gathers air deep in her chest. “I want…” She trails off, her embarrassment washing over her cheeks in blood. Her gaze drops and Anakin tilts his head to find it again, their eyes locked. He says nothing, only the nod of his head encourages her to continue. “…I want more. I want… I want you to…”

She purses her lips in frustration. For heaven’s sake, she’s talking to the man who just had his fingers inside of her mere moments ago. Why does she feel embarrassed now?

She takes another deep breath, mustering the courage to tell what she truly wants. “…I want you to feel good too.”

Something shifts in Anakin’s eyes. It could be easily mistaken as a trick of the light but she sees it, she feels it. Anakin is burning just the same as her, his pupils becoming a backdrop behind the fires of desire, and she burns within it.

She watches as Anakin’s hand sinks below the belt around his middle, all the way down to the waistband of his trousers beneath his dark tunic. She watches with her breath lodged at the base of her throat as he pulls down his pants, just enough for his cock to be set free and oh, it is just like her dreams but even better.

Nothing could have ever prepared her for the sight of Anakin Skywalker’s cock. Not even the wildest of her dreams could ever capture the essence of the art of Anakin Skywalker. He is handcrafted by the gods themselves— he is the physical embodiment of masterpiece.

He steps forward and towers over her, his breath like smoke rolling over her face. She peers up at him, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing. His hands find either side of her face and she stops breathing altogether, wondering what he will do next.

Then, “put your arms here,” he whispers, guiding her arms over his shoulder. “And hold on.”

She squeals when he drops his hands to the undersides of her thighs, lifting her off the ground so that her ankles lock behind his back. Her arms tighten around his neck as he presses her back against the pillar, his chest pressed into hers. She can feel his length as it’s squeezed between either of their bodies and her walls clench around nothing, practically sobbing to feel him inside.

For a moment, the world stills around them and it’s like when she sees him in the audience during Padmé’s wedding. The night stirs and blurs until it’s dark watercolor, but Anakin is what she sees in high resolution. It’s the perfect mirage— she and Anakin feel like two stars in the middle of the black abyss above, forming their own little constellation.

And when Anakin finally slides himself inside of her, she feels like her place in the sea of stars has been cemented. She finally feels like she’s where she belongs.

a/n; SO! MY LONGEST IMAGINE YET.... may or may not have gotten a bit carried away (more like a little too wordy...) BUT! i really hope some of you enjoy and i truly appreciate anyone who reads this all the way through. i know 10k words is a lot 😭 also i hope this doesn’t seem too insta-lovey… this idea just came to me in a dream so i wrote what I dreamt lol

💫 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@k1ttenmittonz

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

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littlcdarlin · 7 months ago

Text

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny.

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

#mine #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us part 1 #tlou1 #tlou #pedro pascal #my writing #dbf!joel #older!joel #smut #Joel miller smut #Joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #tlou fic #my burning sun will someday rise

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airybcby · 2 days ago

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જ⁀✦ best thing that's ever been mine

( sae itoshi x fem! reader )

✩ a/n — i feel like dad! bllk is becoming common now and im obsessed yall know i love a good pregnancy/family trope.

✩ word count — 1.3k

✩ content — dad! sae itoshi, friends to lovers, childhood sweethearts, unplanned pregnancy, i feel like sae would be a girl dad but just imagine baby him, not proofread

✩ synopsis — To the world, Sae Itoshi is an enigma. But to you, he’s just him.

── .✦ left a small town, never looked back

Sae Itoshi is an enigma to many.

To the world, he’s composed of cold shoulders and sharp footwork. Precision born of quiet fury, interviews clipped short, sponsorships done with dead-eyed disinterest.

He doesn’t smile for cameras. Doesn’t entertain gossip.

He shows up, plays with a kind of artistry that makes even the world’s best defenders look clumsy, and leaves like he was never there to begin with.

To them, he’s brilliant. Elusive. Unreachable.

But to you?

He’s the man currently sitting on your living room floor with one knee up, hair damp from a shower, blinking slowly as your son tries to feed him a Cheerio he found in his pocket.

“…You’re sure this is safe?” Sae asks dryly, staring at the sticky cereal piece as your toddler beams, chubby hands outstretched.

You don’t even look up from your book. “He already ate four. You’re fine.”

Sae huffs through his nose and leans forward anyway, letting your son press the Cheerio against his lips with the concentration of a surgeon.

He doesn’t flinch when it sticks. Just chews once, nods solemnly, and says, “Good job, bud.”

The smile your son gives him is radiant. The same smile you fell in love with years ago—only smaller, messier, and with fewer teeth.

People don’t know the real Sae Itoshi.

Not the boy who used to kick rocks down your neighborhood street after school, scowling when they didn’t bounce the way he wanted.

Not the one who once helped you carry your backpack home in the rain, both of you soaking wet and pretending not to care.

They don’t know the kid who sat with you at lunch every day in silence, just close enough to count as something, even if neither of you knew what.

You were friends. In the way two kids who didn’t fit quite right into the world found each other.

Sae didn’t talk much, but you learned to hear him anyway. His silences said things.

When he walked a little slower beside you, you knew he wanted you to stay.

When he handed you a sports drink without looking, it meant he noticed you skipped lunch.

When he sat beside you during your library shift and didn’t open a book—just rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes—that meant he trusted you.

You started dating in junior high. Clumsily. Quietly. Like most kids, you didn’t call it dating.

You just... stopped pretending you didn’t want to sit closer. Y

ou linked pinkies on cold walks home. You traded favorite snacks.

You started saying goodnight on the phone even if neither of you spoke for the entire call.

And then, at thirteen, Sae left.

Spain. A dream. A career. A calling.

You still remember that day—standing at the edge of the train platform with him, both of you wearing your school uniforms, pretending your hearts weren’t hammering inside your chests. He didn’t promise you anything.

Not forever. Not even a someday.

But he looked at you like he wanted to.

“I’ll come back,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Or you’ll come to me. Right?”

You nodded.

He squeezed your hand.

And then he was gone.

Years passed.

You lived your life in soft, slow ways.

Kept your head down, studied hard, wrote to him sometimes, even when you weren’t sure he’d read it.

The letters came less often. The calls dropped off. Time zones, training, language gaps—life.

And yet, the memory of him never left you. Not really.

You dated, once or twice, but no one ever made you feel the way he did.

No one ever looked at you like they understood your quiet too.

The second you graduated, you bought a one-way ticket to Madrid.

Your mother cried.

Your father didn’t speak to you for a week.

Your friends called you reckless—chasing a boy who hadn’t texted back in months.

But you knew something they didn’t.

You weren’t chasing a boy.

You were chasing the only place you’d ever felt like home.

He was waiting for you at the airport.

Not with flowers or signs—he wasn’t that type.

He was just there, hands in his pockets, grown into his height, jaw sharper, hair longer.

He looked tired.

Beautiful.

Real.

“You’re here,” he said, as if he hadn’t quite let himself believe you’d come.

You didn’t cry until you got to the car.

He rested a hand on your thigh the whole drive home.

Life wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t romantic montages and sunshine mornings.

You worked part-time jobs, learned to navigate the city on your own, struggled with loneliness and language and wondering if you’d made the right choice.

But every night, when Sae came home—sweaty and exhausted, his voice rasped from yelling on the pitch, eyes soft when they found yours—it felt worth it.

You weren’t living in a dream. You were building something real.

And then, at 22, everything changed.

You stared at the pregnancy test for a long time.

The bathroom light flickered overhead. Your legs were numb from sitting on the edge of the tub. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

You hadn’t planned for this. You’d been careful. You had a plan.

When you told Sae, you were ready for the worst.

He stood still for a full minute, staring at the test in your hands like it was written in a language he didn’t understand.

And then, gently, he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Me too,” he said quietly.

The first heartbeat.

The first tiny blur on the ultrasound screen.

The nurse asking, “Want to know the sex?” and your voice breaking as you said, “Yes.”

A boy.

A boy with his father’s name on the chart, and your hands trembling as you whispered, “A mini you.”

Sae didn’t speak for a long time. He just placed his hand on your belly, eyes locked there like it was a miracle and a disaster all at once.

“We’ll be okay,” he said eventually.

And somehow, you believed him.

Now, your son is two.

He has Sae’s eyes and your cheeks.

He toddles around with wild hair, mismatched socks, and a favorite stuffed penguin he drags by the flipper.

He calls Sae “Papa” and you “Mama” and yells “Goal!” every time he kicks anything remotely spherical.

Some nights, Sae gets home too late. Some days, he misses first steps or messy drawings stuck to the fridge. And yet—he’s there.

Always.

He sleeps with your son when he has nightmares.

Buys new crayons every time the old ones snap.

Kisses your forehead in the middle of diaper changes and murmurs “you’re doing great” even when you feel like you’re failing.

You’re engaged now.

Not married. Not in a rush.

Your ring glints in the morning light when you stir your coffee and kiss Sae goodbye before training.

You’ve been his since you were kids.

A ring didn’t change that.

You lie in bed one night, your son curled between you, one small fist gripping Sae’s shirt. The baby monitor glows soft blue.

Sae’s awake, staring at the ceiling, one hand resting on your child’s back.

You whisper, “What are you thinking?”

He’s quiet for a long time.

Then, “Sometimes I don’t know how I got here.”

You shift closer. “Do you regret it?”

He looks at you. Really looks. The boy who left. The man who stayed.

“No,” he says. “But I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of messing this up.”

You reach over, take his hand.

“You won’t.”

He squeezes it.

And for the first time in a long time, he sleeps soundly.

To the world, Sae Itoshi is an enigma.

But to you, he’s just him.

The boy who left.

The man who waited.

The father that your son runs to in the morning with sleepy eyes and open arms.

The love you’ve known for nearly your whole life—and still learn in new ways every day.

And in your quiet little life, built of messy rooms and warm dinners and tiny socks in the laundry, that’s more than enough.

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praisethegabs · 1 year ago

Text

OLDER

leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.

warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon

word count: 15k

a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️

I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS

Life can be a bitch sometimes.

This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude.

But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him.

The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become.

There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there.

But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back…

His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?

Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home.

Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t.

It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him.

After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you.

Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities.

After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival.

II. RINSE AND REPEAT

He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost.

Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.

At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.

This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.

Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it.

Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life.

After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day.

After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.

Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused.

“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.

“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him.

“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."

"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.

“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity.

“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.

“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.

“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.

“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.

“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.

“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise.

“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual.

At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you.

“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little.

“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”

“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”

“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”

“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.

“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand.

Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market.

His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality.

However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast?

“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi”

“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”

“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words.

“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…”

“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings.

“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.

“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings.

“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves.

“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again.

"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity.

“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense.

“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time.

“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings.

“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it.

“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments.

“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase.

“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity.

“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier”

“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood.

“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise.

“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.

“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips.

The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself.

He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life.

Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks.

What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong?

His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!

The future is a hell that’s only getting worse.

III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING

You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.

However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else.

After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.

“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning.

“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up”

“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again.

“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him.

“Of course. At seven?”

“At seven, it is,” you smiled again.

As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend?

Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions.

Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other.

Betrayal is the word that defines Leon.

He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go.

Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy.

At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought.

“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you.

“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”

“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks.

"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place.

You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends.

“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity.

“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses.

“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad.

Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this.

“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken�� what happened to your neck?”

Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew.

“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past.

“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage.

“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine”

“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek.

Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it.

“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk”

Leon was reaching his breaking point.

He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are.

“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t”

When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane.

“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go”

After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while.

However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again.

June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA

“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.

Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him.

“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess”

He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality.

“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!”

The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone.

“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.

He pulls the trigger.

And there’s only blood.

He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you.

“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home”

“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be.

“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips.

“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude”

“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well.

“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly.

You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice.

He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent.

“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs.

“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his.

IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN

The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that.

The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.

Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in.

The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night.

Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.

Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–

“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."

Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.

"Target approaching."

As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.

"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise.

The Porsche approached the garage.

"GO," Leon said sharply.

At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat.

Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded.

A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.

Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him.

Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up.

There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.

He feels paralyzed.

It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring.

It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands.

“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness.

Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before.

“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone”

“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd.

You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock.

“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention.

“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly.

“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time”

You saw him reach the breaking point.

Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.

After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this.

But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life.

“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead”

“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words.

“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin.

“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down.

“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack.

“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope.

Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows.

“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently.

Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe.

“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair.

“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on.

“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again.

“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know.

“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again.

“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room.

“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life”

The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed.

“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."

No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode.

“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone”

After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one.

Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.

“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast”

“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet.

“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night”

“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do”

“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell”

You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space.

“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast.

“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago.

“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it”

Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine.

Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him.

You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet.

“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot”

“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.

“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers.

“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.

“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore”

“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully.

Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease.

“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation.

“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation.

“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen.

“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them.

Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations.

“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense.

“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile.

When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?

He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination.

“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.

“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.

Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life.

“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before.

“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags.

“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”

He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again.

“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone”

“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness.

But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye.

“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags.

The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.

Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger.

“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this”

V. ACCEPTANCE

After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.

You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise.

It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.

“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel.

“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity.

“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college”

“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours.

“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers.

“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that”

“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers.

“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling.

“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you”

Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do.

“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday”

“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box.

He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you.

“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you.

“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it.

“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly.

“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it”

“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence.

“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that.

“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him.

“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma.

You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way.

“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs.

“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things”

“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?”

Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this.

“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive”

While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls.

“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath.

“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault”

Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top.

Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.

"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.

"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.

Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.

"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.

"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.

Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression.

"I'm on vacation."

"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.

"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.

"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.

"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.

"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.

Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.

"Cancel the beer."

"No, it's not canceled."

“Come on… what the fuck?!”

"I don't need any more alcohol."

"Cut it out. What's going on?"

"That's my line."

The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.

"You–!" Chris leaned forward.

"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.

Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.

"...What's the situation?" he asked.

Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues,

"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization."

The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice.

"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess,"

Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.

"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"

"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.

"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."

With a hesitant tone, Leon continues

“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."

Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power.

"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.

"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.

Tension fills the air between them once again.

"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."

"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.

They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.

"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies.

"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues.

"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."

Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.

"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.

"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.

Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student.

"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."

As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.

"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."

Rebecca glances lightly at Leon.

"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."

Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.

"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."

Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table.

"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."

"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.

"What?" Leon asks, confused.

"It seems like you're misunderstanding, BSAA soldier," Rebecca lightly dismisses Chris's assumption.

There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that.

"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.

Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.

"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.

She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.

"She's a great woman," Leon comments.

"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile.

And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago.

"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.

"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response.

"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..."

Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.

"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."

Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence.

"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.

"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”

"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.

“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."

Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.

"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."

He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain.

Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."

Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head.

“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up.

“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes.

“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek.

“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy.

“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you.

“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.

Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him.

Before you, Leon was ready to die.

He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed.

But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you.

It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine.

The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton.

"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."

The merged form kicked out.

The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.

Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.

"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.

"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.

In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way.

Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.

Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.

What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…

VI. ABSOLUTION

When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed.

After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back.

“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room.

“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you.

“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles.

“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job.

“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity.

“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…”

“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you”

Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.

“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears.

“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.

“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead.

After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents.

“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home.

“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him.

“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.

You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you.

“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations.

“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red.

“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon.

“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…”

“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips.

Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love.

“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room.

“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody.

“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “

“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck.

“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin.

“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you.

The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too.

“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck.

“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear.

He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you.

“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest.

You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful.

Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you.

“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears.

Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already.

However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that.

When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone.

Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again.

“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck.

“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly.

“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck.

“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him.

After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.

And he’s fine with that.

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