#I JUST WANT TO ACTUALLY FINISH SOMETHING FOR ONCE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enhascloud · 15 hours

Text

SLEEPYHEAD ˒˒ ﹙ enhypen ! ﹚

╰┈⪼ in which you sleep with your boyfriend for the very first time.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ enha members! x reader! 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙💬﹚⸝⸝⸝ scenerios/headcannons, soft, established relationship

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ cute members reactions, caring!heeseung, soft scenarios, reassuring!jungwon, cuddling, hair playing, using of pet names (sweetheart, princess, pretty girl, love, mi amor..) neck kisses, clingy!sunoo

we ‎⸝⸝⸝ 3618 words

rain’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this is the first time I write something like this so I hope it’s good ! enjoy and spend a good time (Niki’s scenario actually is my favorite 🤭)

all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

𓏲 𖧷ˊ HEESEUNG

autumn days have always been favorites for both of you since you use it as an excuse to spend the day together, cuddle up together and watch lots of movies. a blankets covering your bodies while a bowl of popcorn was on Heeseung's lap, and two hot chocolates were placed on the living room table.

but for once, Heeseung had this desire to organize all of this in the evening, which amounted to saying that you were going to sleep at his place. and that for the first time, which made you quite nervous but you didn't refuse the idea on the contrary, you accepted straight away.

that's why you were currently in Heeseung's bed, the blanket covering your body while your head was against his chest.

you were watching one of his films that he had offered you when you arrived. and only a few minutes later Heeseung had let his arm slide down your waist only to pull you lightly against him.

"are you comfortable enough sweetheart?" Heeseung asked you, wanting to make sure everything was perfect and that you weren't uncomfortable, noticing a shake of his head a smile appeared on his lips. "If you need anything, tell me, I prefer to know that you are really comfortable with the idea of sleeping with me"

"everything is perfect Heeseung. I have cuddles, a great movie and I'm warm against you so I don't need anything else" you ended up responding while your head was still resting against his chest. "mh or maybe a cup of hot chocolate.." you ended up saying.

the moment was really cute, everything he had done for you just before, bringing you countless stuffed animals, making sure you felt comfortable enough in his bed and he even insisted on giving you the most space in the bed, even if it means sleeping in the corner of the bed.

"I'll go right away" he replied upon hearing your request, leaving the bed to go to the kitchen and prepare everything you wanted or what might make you want during the evening. When he came back, he knocked on the door and waited for your response before coming in, noticing at the same time that you had finally worn out your pajamas, which made him smile.

the rest of the evening was absolutely magical, everything was perfect and Heeseung continued to make sure you were comfortable. when you finally fell asleep the movie wasn't even finished, it was when he sat up slightly that he noticed your eyes closed while your head was still against his chest. and, respecting your sleep, he turned off the television and the light next to his bed before trying to fall asleep himself, holding you tenderly against him.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAY

when you asked Jay to spend the night at your place, he looked at you without reacting for a few seconds and an embarrassed laugh left your lips. it was the first time you were going to sleep together and, unfortunately, it wasn't him who proposed but you.

"are you sure princess?" he ended up asking you, to which you nodded, certain of what you had just suggested to him. "We've been together for three months Jay, we have to sleep together one day so why not tonight?"

Jay had absolutely nothing against the idea, quite the contrary, but at the moment he was quite nervous. He had never slept with anyone before so he just hoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of you tonight, that was probably the last thing he wanted.

as he entered your room a smile appeared on his lips. "your room looks a lot like you, it's really cute and colorful. I love all the photos hanging on the wall, it's really cute" he said before moving closer and noticing that most of the photos were you two, on every date you had had since the start of your relationship.

When it was time to sleep, he didn't necessarily know how to go about it. should he take you in his arms? sit next to you and wait for permission to do anything? he wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of being with someone, only he had always been nervous about sleeping with his girlfriend and this time you were the first one he was going to sleep with.

noticing how uncomfortable he seemed to be, you ended up taking his hands in yours and sliding them around your waist, showing him that there was nothing wrong. "normally it's up to the girl to be in this state, not you Jay.." you said before laughing but you were quickly stopped because Jay's lips were pressed against yours.

"I'm not uncomfortable.." he replied, finally separating himself from your lips, "I just hope the night goes well, it's the first time we've slept together so I don't want to ruin the moment."

and he wasn't wrong about that. Jay had always been the type to do everything perfectly, so he obviously wished that the first night with you would be as perfect as he had imagined.

"well.. you're with me and I'm in your arms so this is probably the best night I'll ever have" a smile appeared on your lips as you said that while you looked at Jay in the most adorable way possible.

the night continued and strangely, after hearing your words Jay was much more at ease and, in fact, he hadn't stopped kissing you. so much so that you couldn't even remember when you fell asleep, but indeed, it was the best night you could have had.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAKE

to say that Jake hadn't thought about this moment would possibly be a lie. as soon as you accepted his proposal, he began to imagine how this could happen.

And inevitably when the day came he had spent most of the day thinking about it. How could he not think about it when you will be against him, in his arms for the whole night?

"Jake are you even listening to me?" Did you end up saying, which made him leave his reverie, "I really don't want to fail my exams but I have the impression that I won't be able to do it.."

"Ah no, we're not talking about exams this evening and you know that," he replied, taking out his keys and opening the door. "Tonight is a romantic evening so no talking about exams"

"But Jake it's not funny! I'm really afraid of missing them! Imagine I..." quickly one of Jake's hands was on your lips and, once again you asked why he was so keen that you weren't talking about exams. But when you raised your head you quickly understood.

"Not another word about exams or you end up sleeping on the couch instead of with me" he used as a way to make you stop talking while removing his hand from his lips.

"It's called blackmail Jake!" You finally said but he didn't want to listen to you anymore. Instead he just laughed as he picked you up from the ground and headed towards his room. "And what's more, it's a hostage-taking!" Did you scream.

"For this to be a hostage situation, you would have to disagree, except that you agreed to sleep with me"

Soon you were both under the covers, and after a little bit of arguing because of his lame jokes, you both ended up in each other's arms.

You had nothing against sleeping with Jake, it was one of the things you looked forward to but strangely once in his arms, you felt a knot in your stomach because of shyness and you found the slightest way to hide from him.

And strangely he didn't make fun of you, he found you adorable, quite the contrary. And knowing that you were quite reactive, he allowed himself to come and tickle you, which quickly made you react. "Jake stop, that's painful!" you said suddenly which directly made him laugh.

"I'll stop if you're not so shy, sweetie," he allowed himself to respond while continuing his tickling, which quickly stopped since you were moving a little too much and he was afraid of getting hit.

And fortunately he ended up stopping because you quickly returned to his arms, and it was when he raised your head that he realized how lucky he was to have you. And quickly he kissed you.

He even allowed himself to come and kiss your neck, to tease you a little before you ended up sleeping and, seeing how red you had become, he laughed and kissed the tip of your nose. "Strangely, Madam doesn't say anything anymore."

"Madam says you need to sleep, just like me.." you responded by separating from him, afraid that he would do it again, but you quickly regretted your decision and returned to his arm.

And it was after a long moment of cuddling that you both fell asleep. And Jake was right, the moment was surely as pleasant and perfect as he had imagined during the day. It was even much better than he had imagined.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ SUNGHOON

maybe Sunghoon used the fact that it was raining heavily to make you stay at his place for the night. he had always been the type to be romantic for any occasion, and, the idea of you having to walk home while it was raining like this was almost impossible for him.

except that, since nothing was prepared in advance you had no business of your own for the night and to tell the truth you felt quite stressed since, although Sunghoon had used the rain as an excuse, you had never slept with him before and didn't know how everything was going to happen.

except that, because you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize that Sunghoon was going back and forth throughout his apartment to find you things for the night. and it was when he came back to you that you noticed that he had a girl's pajamas in his hands.

"How come you have pajamas already ready for me Sunghoon?" you asked when you were quite confused about where these pajamas came from although you ended up taking them in your hands.

"I bought one a few weeks ago thinking that you would end up sleeping at my house... I just didn't think that it would be because of a rain" he replied, laughing softly, perhaps realizing- It's odd that he keeps some pajamas for you, just in case.

"oh.. that's really nice Sunghoon thank you very much" you replied with a smile, getting up to place a kiss on his lips before heading to his bathroom so you can change. and you had barely put it on when you noticed that Sunghoon had chosen the right size, so he remembered your clothing size.

As you came out of the bathroom, you noticed Sunghoon sitting on the couch, almost as if he had been waiting for you, and actually he had been waiting for you. seeing you come out of the bathroom he almost rushed towards you to take you in his arms and quickly leave for the bedroom. and his actions directly made you laugh since Sunghoon usually didn't act like that. he never acted like that actually.

then quickly you were both under the covers, one of his arms slipping around your waist as he made sure you were comfortable and almost every time wondering how you felt when he moved to your side or that he moved his arms around your waist, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"good night mi amor.." Sunghoon had whispered in your ear, noticing that you were slowly falling asleep while he placed a kiss on your cheek.

"good night Sunghoon.." you replied as you were already falling asleep in Sunghoon's arms, loving the way he held you in his arms.

and after several minutes, Sunghoon himself had finally fallen asleep too, holding you close to him, while his head rested against your shoulder. and even in sleep you were both adorable.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ SUNOO

Sunno had always been quite clingy as a boyfriend, not that you didn't mind, on the contrary. you loved it when Sunoo spent most of his time wanting to cuddle you, hold your hands in his, or any other way to have physical contact with you. he was really cute.

the problem is that, when you offered to spend the night at his place, you hadn't thought about this detail. since even though during the day sunoo was really adorable with all his actions and the way he wanted to have any physical contact with you, at night it was something else entirely.

as soon as you were seated with him, a series on the television, he almost immediately moved closer to you and came to give you countless kisses on the cheeks or even hugs. something which at first was really adorable, then with the angel face he gave you every time, it was almost impossible to say no to him or refuse his cuddles.

except that the more time passed, the more you felt that sleeping next to him for the first time was going to be complicated if he was this clingy with you. "Sunoo, I really love your hugs but if I want to sleep it's quite complicated given how you hold me against you.. can you hold me a little less tightly please?" you asked him just before seeing him stand up, looking at you quite confused.

"Does that make you uncomfortable? Sorry, that wasn't what I wanted.." he replied, realizing that he had potentially made you uncomfortable with his too many hugs or kisses. . "no..! no not at all Sunoo I love your hugs I told you.. it's just that you hold me too tightly and it's not very comfortable to breathe.. so we can continue cuddling doesn't really bother me, but please hold me a little less hard."

and with your words you took his arms in your hands, loosening his grip around your waist to show him how you wanted him to hold you against him. "like that it’s perfect Sunoo.. you sometimes hold me a little too hard against you so it hurts a little.. but if we both sleep next time don't hold me as hard.."

you ended up turning around, noticing that he was sad to hear you say that, and inevitably you placed a kiss on his lips trying to reassure him. "Hey we can continue to cuddle sunoo.. if I hadn't loved you I would have moved away from you and yet I'm still in your arms okay?"

"okay.. sorry I didn't realize that I could maybe hurt you by holding you against me.. I promise I will be careful from now on but if we sleep together I refuse to let you go to the other end of the bed. I need to have you against me love.." he replied to you as he placed kisses on your cheeks again before finishing with your lips.

"I know that sunoo and it's really adorable.." you replied in turn.

and after twenty minutes of talking you both ended up falling asleep against each other, your head resting against his chest as he held you close. and strangely, even in his sleep he hadn't held you so tightly since you told him of your discomfort.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JUNGWON

as soon as jungwon had opened the door to his room you felt this knot in your stomach appear while you were more and more stressed at the idea of sleeping next to your boyfriend.

Jungwon had always taken the time to reassure you when he offered to sleep with you, because he knew how nervous you could be no matter the situation when you were both in the same room. Not only are these quite disturbing things happening between you, quite the contrary! but because you had reactions due to your former relationship.

so obviously, as soon as you had settled into bed he placed himself directly beside you, his arm placed around your waist and placed a kiss on your cheek before noticing that, despite your comfort, you still had doubts about what could happen.

"eh.. sweetheart I'm not doing anything serious you know that I've explained it to you at least five times today.." he whispered next to your ears trying to reassure you. "do you want us to watch a movie? a series? read a little book to reassure yourself and calm down before we sleep? are you comfortable enough in my bed?"

"Jungwonie.. I'm fine I promise.." you replied almost immediately, a smile gently appearing on your lips as you raised your head to look at him. "a movie can be perfect and yes I'm comfortable Jungwon don't worry.. I'll eventually get comfortable as it goes along it's just strange sleeping with you for the first time.."

"kitten.. I'm going to tell you how many times that you're here just to reassure you and make sure that you're okay during the night so you have no problem, and if things don't go well during the night you just need to wake me up and I'll be here for you okay?"

noticing that you weren't responding, jungwon quickly took the remote and turned on the tv then left the remote for you to choose a movie for you to watch.

you quickly took the remote and after ten minutes of trying to find a movie, you ended up finding a movie that you loved so obviously you started it directly, hoping that Jungwon wasn't going to say anything against it, but he remained silent and placed a kiss on your cheek to reassure you.

then, as time passed and the more you were in the film, you were more and more comfortable with the idea of sleeping with your boyfriend that night and your head ended up resting against his shoulder and his hand came to play with your hair. "you're adorable sweetheart.." he whispered, smiling.

but you didn't necessarily react since you started to fall asleep against him, and noticing your state he let you fall asleep tenderly, loving to see you finally being at ease with him and, he continued to play with your hair until he fell asleep himself, holding you close to him.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ NIKI

when you told Niki that you wanted to sleep with him, he didn't know what to answer while he was trying to find out if you were serious or not. with you Niki could go through all the emotions so obviously, at first he just thought it was just one of your jokes.

"no Niki I'm really serious this time! I really want us to sleep together for just one night please!" you begged as you took his hands in yours and looked at him with the most adorable gaze.

"so it's really not a joke you're playing on me? you really want to sleep with me?" he asked you, almost forgetting that he was your boyfriend.

"but yes!! go this evening, please! plus you're already home, and my mother would be so happy to see you stay!" you used as an argument, hoping he would take you seriously.

and that's how you ended up in your room, the two of you while the television was on but you weren't really watching.

It had been four hours since you discussed this, and Niki still couldn't understand how serious you were about this. he was still lost in thought wondering why.

then quickly the blow of a pillow hitting his face brought him out of his thoughts. How could he not have thought of that? a laugh left his lips when he saw you gripping your pillow while looking at him with a smile, and he quickly understood that you were challenging him.

so quickly he grabbed one of the pillows in turn, and quickly the calm of the room had disappeared while you were both having a pillow fight and giggling like children. after all, acting like children was the best thing you two knew how to do when you were together, so these kinds of activities weren't surprising between the two of you.

It must have lasted too long, or it was simply because you were making too much noise, laughing and screaming like children, but your mother ended up appearing in your room, seeing you both armed with your cousins. standing on your bed. and when you noticed it you quickly froze, hoping she wasn't upset.

and she wasn't. Your mother had simply said that it was late and that you had better go to sleep. to which you answered yes, and while she was still looking at you you finally calmed down and hid under the covers. then she ended up going back to her room.

"I was the one who won anyway.." Niki ended up whispering about the pillow fight you had just come to do. "No, it's me who won.." you replied, whispering too.

except that, being two children, you and Niki had almost started hitting each other with your pillows again, but noticing your movement, Niki had stopped you, taking your hands in hers and quickly her lips were against yours.

"I don't think we can really start again so we'll stop there pretty girl.." he whispered against your lips, and strangely his kiss calmed you down. you ended up kissing him too.

then, after little kisses you ended up falling asleep in each other's arms. Forget your actions as children, even if the next day everything was going to start again for the whole day..

thanks you for reading all of this it’s really sweet ! hope that you liked each of the members scenarios and that you enjoyed reading !

comment to be added to my permanent taglist (for all my post except the series !)

anyways loves you, see you soon !! 💗

162 notes · View notes

persevereforahappyending · 2 days

Text

Luck Runs Out |'I Love You'|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Mabel sat on her couch; her legs crossed as she scribbled down stuff in her notebook. She glanced up every few seconds to read from her laptop, which was propped up on the coffee table. She was making sure to copy down only the important information. Her grades were fine, they had been since she started, she was still anxious about falling behind, it didn’t seem like she’d ever stop feeling that way.

Mabel bit her lip, trying to keep herself from smiling when she heard her door creaking open. “Haven’t you learned you should lock this?” You asked.

Mabel leaned back, looking up from her notebook to see you standing in the doorway. You dropped your bag on the floor by the kitchen table as you made your way over to her. You rested your hand on the arm of the couch as you leaned down, seeming to intend on giving her a kiss. Mabel was quick to lean away from you, only laughing at the frown on your face.

“You didn’t miss me?” You pouted.

“I did,” Mabel said. You tried leaning in again, but Mabel was quick to put her hand up, gently resting it on your chest to stop you. “You know the rules.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and stomped your way over to the bathroom. “Sorry for missing my girlfriend and just wanting to give her a kiss!” You shouted before closing the bathroom door.

“Sorry you smell after weeks on a fishing boat!” Mabel called back. You didn’t say anything, but she knew you heard her, she could picture you standing in front of the mirror, mimicking her as you got ready to jump in the shower.

You had been gone for three weeks on a job with the guys. You seemed to really be enjoying it and got along with all the guys, even Charlie seemed to fully warm up to you. You always smelled like fish after you came home though, the first time you came back from a job Mabel had refused to kiss you because the smell was so bad. She hadn’t had to worry about that with Charlie because most of the time she didn’t see him until after he had showered, but you always came right to her place as soon as you docked.

Mabel was thrilled to have you back, she truly did miss you like crazy. She couldn’t lie though; she enjoyed the peace without you. You were great, you had been great since she met you, you made sure to spend time with her when you were home and made sure to take her out to do something at least once during the week. She just got so much done when you weren’t home, you were very good at distracting her, and when you were on a job, she could actually finish her schoolwork early and get a head start on other things.

After you were thoroughly clean and smelled of only Mabel’s soap you finally exited the bathroom, instantly plopping yourself down on the couch next to Mabel. Mabel looked at you, seeing you with your body turned towards her and your head resting on the back of the couch as you just watched her. Mabel tossed her notebook and pen on the table next to her laptop and laid back, mirroring your position.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” she whispered back. She flicked her gaze from your eyes to your lips and back, but you were still just watching her. “What are you waiting for?”

You smiled before leaning in. Mabel was quick to meet your lips, as if on instinct she grabbed the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. When she finally broke the kiss the two of you went back to your same position, just looking at each other. Mabel gently ran her hands through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp until you slowly closed your eyes. Whenever you got home after a job you showered, gave Mabel her kiss, and then passed out somewhere. Most of the time it was on the couch, like now, as Mabel did her schoolwork.

The rest of the week went by like it always did when you were home. Mabel would go to class, come home and do her homework, you’d spend the day working on your boat, and then at night you’d come home, if Mabel didn’t have to come get you, and the two of you would have dinner together. Mabel wasn’t sure how you did it, your schedule was already crazy, then when you were home, you were working on the sailboat you got from sunrise to sunset, and yet you still made time for Mabel, you still somehow surprised her, taking her on little dates or just taking her to experience something new in general.

You had enough money to buy a brand-new sailboat, but you went with a fixer upper. Mabel wasn’t sure why you’d want to spend time working on a boat instead of sailing on it, but you said you wanted it to be fully yours. Mabel was with you when you bought it from the guy, it was practically love at first sight and you spent most of your time with the thing, painting it and changing certain things out to something new. Mabel admired the commitment; she might have thought it would be easier to just buy a new one, but she understood your desire to basically get one that needed work so you could do whatever you wanted to it and make it exactly how you wanted.

Finally at the end of the week Mabel burst through the door, tossing her bag onto the kitchen table before walking straight to her bed and flopping down face first. It felt like she had just closed her eyes when you burst through the door. You were either in a rush or excited based on the sound of the door flying back and smacking the wall.

“Great!” you said. Excited, you were definitely excited about something. “You’re home!” Mabel only let out a groan, you might have been excited, but she was tired. “I have a surprise!”

“Is it a nap?” Mabel asked, her voice getting muffled by the mattress as she was too tired to even lift her head.

You didn’t answer her, but Mabel heard you shuffled around then she felt the bed dip next to her. She managed to turn her head so she could look up at you. You had one hand rested on the mattress and you leaned back, her sleepiness not seeming to deter your excitement in the slightest.

“What?” Mabel asked softly. As tired as she was, she didn’t want to be grumpy because you were clearly very excited about something. The last time you had come into the apartment that happy was when you bought the boat.

“Rest,” you whispered, gently brushing a few strands of hair out of the way that had fallen across her face. Mabel opened her mouth to argue but you shushed her. “Take a nap and then I’ll show you.”

“Are you sure?” She mumbled, already closing her eyes.

“It’ll be better at night anyway.” That was the last thing Mable heard before she let sleep take her.

Mabel wasn’t sure how long she was out but when she woke up, she felt much more well rested. She rolled over, furrowing her brow when her face went into a pillow. She sat up and through her sleep filled eyes she could see you had shifted her, so she was properly laying on the bed and you even tossed a blanket over her. When she finally rubbed all the sleep out of her eyes, she finally saw you sitting on the couch, a movie playing in the background as you scrolled through stuff on your laptop.

“Hey,” she rasped out. She quickly slipped out of the bed and went to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

“Morning,” you said with a teasing tone. “How was your nap?”

“Very needed,” Mabel mumbled as she made her way over to you. She sat her glass on the coffee table then curled up on the couch, burying her head in your neck as she snuggled into your side. She felt, more than heard you chuckle, moving your body to get more comfortable. “Thank you,” she mumbled into your neck.

“Any time,” you whispered. “Are you up for a surprise?” Mabel lifted her head off you but didn’t get out of your space, if you turned your head a little to the right, she would barely have to lean up to steal a kiss. “If not, we can do it tomorrow.”

There was a part of Mabel that wanted to say yes to pushing it to tomorrow. She didn’t know what you had planned and even though her nap was much needed, she could still pass out again in an instant. You were clearly excited about whatever it was you wanted to show her though and she didn’t want to disappoint you, besides she was intrigued by what could have possibly made you so happy.

“Just let me change and we can go,” she said.

You turned your head and gave her a quick kiss. She didn’t miss the way your eyes lit up. She quickly removed herself from your side and got changed. She was pulling down her shirt when she paused and turned back to you. “Does your surprise have a dress code?” She asked.

“Nope!” You said, smiling happily. “Just dress comfortably.” Mabel nodded and continued getting dressed. “Oh, you might want a hoodie as well.” Mabel glanced back at you, narrowing her eyes but you were focused on your laptop again.

When Mabel was all done, she tried to offer to drive the two of you wherever you wanted to go but you refused and begged for her keys. Mabel was beginning to wonder why you didn’t just buy your own car, she didn’t know why they always had to use hers when you always insisted on driving. Mabel handed over her keys though and opted to watch out the window in hopes of figuring out where you were taking her.

Mabel furrowed her brow when you continued to make familiar turns, heading in a direction she had been hundreds of times. “We’re going towards the docks?” she said slowly, though it came out more like a question. You remained silent but Mabel caught the slight smirk on your face.

Mabel couldn’t help but glance at you every few seconds, you weren’t saying anything. You parked the car and ran over to open her door, all without saying a word. She let you take hold of her hand and lead her down to the docks. The more boats you passed Mabel could practically feel you buzzing, if she wasn’t holding your hand, she could picture you running down the dock and jumping up and down.

You finally came to a stop in front of a boat, letting go of Mabel’s hand so she could step forward. She could see you bouncing up and down on your feet as she stood before the boat. She looked up at it, it was nice, in amazing condition. She narrowed her eyes at the name and that’s when it clicked. “You got it in the water?” she asked, spinning around to see her smile matched yours.

You quickly nodded your head up and down and grabbed onto her hand again. “I’m going to change the name,” you said. “But for now she’s officially seaworthy!” You gestured wide at the boat, not letting go of Mabel’s hand in the process. “I’ve already taken her out and she runs smooth,” you smiled up at the boat. “But I wanted to take you out, we can make it a little date?” You looked down at your feet suddenly getting shy.

Mabel tilted your chin up with her finger and pulled you into a long kiss, she could feel you instantly smiling into it. “Aren’t you going to show me aboard, Captain?” She whispered against your lips when she pulled away.

“Let’s go!” You tightened your grip and dragged her down the dock to board the boat.

You quickly showed Mabel the entire boat. It was a quick tour because it was big enough for only one person to sail it if needed, but it had been a while since she had seen the thing. When she last saw it, it was still a dirty off-white color, all the benches and cabinets were torn out, and most importantly it was not in the water. Everything was put back together now though; the boat was a pristine white with a blue stripe running along it.

After showing off everything Mabel stayed by your side as you backed the boat out of the harbor. She couldn’t help but smile at how weird it felt having the boat moving under her feet. She had never been on a sailboat before, she’d only ever heard your talking about them. She watched how concentrated you got as you turned the wheel, steering the boat in the direction you wanted to go. You took the boat far enough out that when she squinted Mabel could still see the lights of the dock. You dropped the anchor, and Mabel was even more curious as to what your plan was, though she was definitely enjoying it.

“I made us a little picnic,” you said. You climbed down into the boat and a moment later came back up with a little picnic basket.

With one hand you held the basket while the other took Mabel’s once again. She followed you, watching your feet as she carefully stepped where you did. You led her to the deck in the front of the boat. It wasn’t that most ideal place to sit, there were actual seats inside and back by the wheel, but for some reason you wanted to sit at the front. You sat the basket down and grabbed the blanket tucked between the handles before laying it out.

Mabel followed your lead and took a seat on the blanket. It was dark out, but the moon and stars lit up the sky enough that the two of you could see what you were doing. You reached into the basket and pulled out two bottles of soda and she happily took one of them from you. You reached in again and pulled out two sandwiches wrapped in plastic. Mabel happily took the one you held out to her, as soon as she unwrapped it, she knew you had made her favorite.

“When did you do all this?” She asked. It was relatively simple looking, but it was clear you had thought everything through, this didn’t seem to be something you planned in one day.

“While you were sleeping,” you admitted shyly. “‘Made the sandwich’s, got everything in the basket, brought the basket here, came back. All while you were still sleeping.”

“I was tired!” Mabel defended, playfully slapping you on the arm before taking a bite of her sandwich.

You just chuckled and ate your own sandwich. The two of you sat in silence, looking out at the ocean. Mabel had to admit, it was pretty nice, the ocean was truly beautiful even at night, even the way the ship swayed didn’t bother her. When the two of you were all done you put the basket to the side and laid back, Mabel followed your lead and the two of you looked up at the stars. It was slightly uncomfortable since people weren’t meant to be lying on that part of the boat, but it was still somehow perfect.

Mabel had a small smile on her face as she stared up at the stars, she had never been able to see them so clearly. Living in the city, even a small town, meant the stars weren’t as visible, she had never seen so many scattered across the sky. She turned to steal a glance at you when she noticed you were already staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a light chuckle.

You gave a little shrug. Your eyes flicked down, away from her face as if you were afraid of what she might see. She looked down when she saw the blanket moving, seeing you picking at the fabric. It wasn’t often you got all shy on her, you were usually annoyingly confident.

You flicked your gaze back to here and the two of you just stared into each other’s eyes. “I love you,” you whispered. Mabel’s entire body froze, she wasn’t sure if you started rambling because you noticed or because you were just so nervous. “You don’t have to say it back, I don’t expect it, no pressure. I just-”

Mabel cut you off with a kiss. She rolled over so she was practically laying on top of you. She made the kiss long and drawn out, trying to express how okay she was with what you said. When she finally broke the kiss, she looked down at you, seeing you wear that goofy grin you always had after she kissed you. “I love you too,” she whispered, before leaning down to connect your lips again.

She lost track of time after that; she had no idea how long she ended up kissing you. When she was finally satisfied, she scooted closer to you, making sure her body was pressed again yours. You wrapped your arm around her, pulling her closer. She rested her head on your chest as the two of you went back to staring up at the stars, both of you sporting matching smiles.

#mabel (finestkind)#mabel finestkind #mabel x reader #mabel x fem!reader #mabel x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #finestkind 2023 #luck runs out

131 notes · View notes

aethien11-blog · 3 days

Text

NOTE: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. (Also, I’m a sappy, silly, dork at times. Sorry not sorry.) I took some liberties when it came to JJK as I’ve only seen the two seasons on crunchy roll and kinda ran with it. Sorry if that’s upsetting.

The boys reactions to learning their s/o has been kidnapped

Fem Reader x : Sakuna, Megumi, Nanami, Itadori

WARNINGS: use of ‘naughty words’, mentions of blood, rape, mutilation, death, violence, and possible spoilers.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The King of Curses was phased by nothing. Your presence (or lack of) wasn’t that important. He could go a day without you, without thinking of you.

Ryomen snarled. And yet here he was again for the fifth time this hour wondering how much longer you planned to take. Just how long did humans need to visit family for anyway? What was so damned special about it?

“Great One!” Uraume immediately knelt beside him.

“Uraume?” His four eyes blinked once before, “Where is y/n? Waiting my room?” It was a pleasant thought but his battle instinct said otherwise.

“Forgive me, Great One. Lady y/n,” Uraume stiffened.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” he snarled.

“Forgive my error. Lady y/n was taken, my Lord.”

“Taken?”

Maybe it was fear, maybe a blush that lit Uraume’s face. “Yes. Lady- lady y/n sent me away briefly so she could speak with her family. Apparently, I make them uncomfortable.” It was only a moment but it felt like an eternity passed before she spoke again. “I should have sensed it. I apologize for my error, Great One.” “What are you yapping about? And where is she?” Ryomen roared.

It was impossible to still the tremble that shot through her body. “I don’t know where she is, Lord Sukuna. Only that she sent me away. I stepped to the door, heard something, turned and she was gone. Every member of her family were slaughtered in that moment.” Uraume trembled again. “I don’t know, my Lord.”

“Her body was not among the dead?” It didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t say that. His chest just moved weird when he asked. It wasn’t like his heart could actually hurt over this.

“She was not, my Lord.”

“Hm. I should have figured. You would have brought me a corpse at least, if that were the case.”

“Your trust is flattering, my Lord.”

“Hmph. Find out who took her and what they want. You have one day.”

“My lord.” Uraume disappeared from his sight quickly then.

Yes. It didn’t matter if you were gone a whole day. He wouldn’t allow it to affect him but hell was coming for the creature that disrupted his plans for the evening.

*******************************************

“Wow. I’ve seen stupid before, but you’re something else.”

“Ssshhh ut up, human.” The creature’s hissing speech was irritating enough but if this thing thought it stood a chance. “Or I’ll shh, cut out that ssstupid tongue.”

You giggle. “As if. Lord Sukuna will turn you into kibble.” Briefly you scrunch your brows before wondering out loud, “I wonder if Uraume has fed his pets yet today.”

A blade appeared, pressed to your lips. “Sssssh ut it!”

You can’t help but smile and lick the flat of it. “You don’t stand a chance.”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

“Why are we being called in?” Megumi asked in his usual uninterested tone.

“The higher ups have a stick up their ass and they want us to pull it out…probably,” Gojo sniped before finishing with a grin.

Megumi rolled his eyes. One day, his teacher was going to step too far and those same higher ups were likely to come down on him but today wasn’t the day…probably.

The doors came open as Megumi, Yuji, Nobara, and Saturo stepped close. “There is no time for greetings. Seat yourselves and let’s begin.”

“Well, nice to see you too,” Saturo Gojo sniped with a smile. “Whaddya got for us?”

Heavy sighs echo through the small room before a woman’s voice said, “Watch.” On a screen on the side of the room, a newscast was being played.

As soon as the reporter switched to the scene behind them, three sets of eyes turned to Megumi. He didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to yours looking up him through the screen.

To say Megumi was used to loss was fairly accurate. He accepted loss was a part of every mission and pretty much expected it… but that was no excuse for you to go and get yourself captured by curse user.

The demands were that one person alone was to deliver their required ransom for you (another cursed object that should never leave the school) or they would turn you into their newest curse. Worse, they made the demand publicly, ensuring the higher ups couldn’t just sweep their request (and you) under the rug.

What none of them expected was that Megumi would volunteer to be the one to deliver their ransom. Or that he would have a plan to get you back without having to give up the cursed item.

********************************************************

These fuckers were in for a hell of a surprise. You weren’t worth anything and you knew it. Just some orphan left in the care of the state to manage a life that had thus far amounted to little. For fuck sake, you only graduated high school last year and who in their right mind tries to take a cafe barista as a hostage. These guys were nuts.

But hearing what they demanded and their threats just riled you. No, you weren’t worth some great value but you’d be damned if they were doing a single thing to you without a fight.

KENTO NANAMI

The steady clack of keys on keyboards was near deafening as the entire office echoed it. Blank faces stared at bright screens as the sun sank behind the horizon. Another day of boring repetitive garbage.

Nanami stood from his desk, collecting his things in his usual slow and perfectly controlled manner. At least y/n should be ready by the time he got there. He had worked a little late, but then, you usually took an extra minute to close up shop.

Nanami smiled to himself as he lifted his briefcase and slid his laptop in. You always made him a special set of bread as the last one of the day so it would be fresh and warm even after you both got back to his apartment. Maybe he should ask, no no. He shook his head and set his usual expressionless face back in place. No need to think of that right now.

Kento set his briefcase in the back seat before sliding into his car and starting it. Safer that way. You had a tendency to ‘chuck it’ into the back seat if it were in your way. The edges of his mouth curled into a smile. Anyone else and he would have been ticked about tossing an expensive laptop about like that but when you did it, it was cute. And even if it weren’t, the grin you give him after certainly was.

He barely managed to get the grin back under control by the time he was pulling up to your shop only to freeze as he parked. The glass door was shattered, the shop inside showing obvious signs of a struggle.

Nanami felt like his blood was pumping through his body at several miles a minute then. On the outside, Kento was entirely calm as he slowly unbuckled and stepped out of his car. Only those that knew him would notice the difference. The way his fists tightened, the set of his jaw, or the measured gait he adopted as he stepped through the broken entrance.

His eyes scanned the scene and picked up the single scrawled note with ease.

“Want her, come get her.”

The paper crumpled in his fist before he shifted his attention to tracing the energy. They would pay for making him work overtime.

****************************************************

Much as you would love to (continue to) tell these guys off, one of them had already stuffed a sock in your mouth and duct taped it there. That didn’t really stop you though as you continued to hurl insults through your gag.

“Geez. If this guy doesn’t hurry up, I’m gonna kill the broad just to shut her up,” one of your captors grumbled.

“Mmm mmnnnm mmm mm.” Your attempted snarl did little through your gag, and it wasn’t like you could fight back now. These jerks may be asses but they knew how to tie knots. Between the chafing on your upper arms and wrists, you had tested every way you could think of to get loose and were only too glad you had worn pants today instead of a skirt.

YUJI ITADORI

Having adopted his mentor's distaste for meetings, Yuji trudged into the room with a heavy sigh. “Do we have to?” he whined.

You could just give up control and I could kill them all, Sukuna suggests amiably but Yuji ignores him.

Nobara slaps the back of his head. “You already know the answer to that. Sit down.”

Megumi barely managed not to smile before taking his seat. He blinked owlishly for a moment before the friendly wave confirmed his suspicion. “You’re here too?”

Yuta smiled. “Yeah. I’ll let them explain everything.”

“Must be pretty big if they called both of you here,” Yuji said with a grin as he looked between Yuta and Gojo.

“You know it. Three first years are missing after being sent in and we’re going to go save them,” Gojo stated.

Sighs echo around the room. “Let’s begin the actual mission brief.” All eyes shifted to the screen. Typed out quickly was the message from Tengen. “Earlier this morning, three first year Jujutsu students, Eimo Makito, Rugi Kamisari, and y/n, were accompanied by two third years, Panda and Toge Inumaki, to subdue or suppress whatever was causing the disappearances over Lake Tazawa’s area. The reported incidents originally listed this as a Class 3 curse at best, but with our newest information, we believe there may be more than one special grade at work, making it appear lower to continue to deceive us. We can no longer rule it out.”

Yuji had stopped reading at your name and his eyes were glued to it until Megumi elbowed him lightly to draw his attention back to the meeting.

You’re okay, right? This doesn’t mean you're dead. Just that….you’re missing.

“We currently do not know if any of the students are alive or not. The veil we placed has been encompassed by a stronger one and we have no way to get information in or out.”

“So we’re going in blind. My specialty,” Gojo stated with a grin.

Yuta chuckled beside him. “We can handle this-”

“I’m coming too,” Yuji shouted and everyone stilled before Gojo’s chuckle released some of the tension in the room.

“Plan to be a knight and go save your princess?”

“It’s not just about y/n,” Yuji stated, though his blushing ears decried otherwise. “Panda and Toge are there too. We have to save them if we can.”

“You know they might already be dead.” Gojo just wanted to make sure it was clear, that Yuji wasn’t holding out hope on this one.

“I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“Gre-at,” Megumi sighed and face palmed. “It's the detention center all over again.”

“Sorry, Itadori,” Yuta began. “But you can’t-”

“I’m coming too,” Yuji repeated.

“Nuh-uh, kid,” Gojo said standing up. “I’ll let you come with us, but you are staying out side the barrier, you understand. You want to make sure everyone is safe, that’s fine. But you will keep yourself and Sukuna out of that barrier, clear?”

Despite the blindfold being on, Yuji could feel the blue eyes of his teacher boring into him.

Finally he sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll wait outside the barrier. But,”

“No buts, or you're not going and I’ll leave you chained up here.”

Yuji’s silence to follow was taken for acquiescence.

*****************************************************

You blink your eyes open to an unfamiliar sight. The barrier above you seems almost black and the shimmering in it makes you want to vomit after looking at it for a moment. Like staring at trees outside a moving car window. You roll and tuck your left arm up. You're able to move it but the bone in your forearm is definitely broken.

Your eyes land on Panda as you sit up. “How’s he doing?” you whisper through the pain.

Panda smiles sadly at you. “He’ll be fine. Just needs a bit to get his throat to stop bleeding.”

“I’m sorry, Toge.”

Toge shook his head and smiled sadly at you. “Bonito flakes.” It even sounded choked and you felt your eyes water. He must be in incredible pain.

You three were lucky. Eimo and Rugi weren’t as fortunate. You had to come up with some kind of plan to get out of here, but if these two didn’t have anything how could you?

“Fuck!” you curse under your breath.

“Salmon.”

That at least got you to smile and you can tell that was his intention. You would get out of this. Together.

Again a quick and sincere thank you to Miss Vry (@vrystalius) for helping me with tags :D

#jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #fushiguro x reader #nanami x reader #itadori x reader

87 notes · View notes

lynzishell · 3 days

Text

The Past 💛 Atlas

My hand is resting on Ash’s chest as we lie together in comfortable silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The quiet is soothing and I’m grateful he doesn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, that we can just be here together.

Slowly, I begin tracing my fingers lightly across his collarbone, then up his arm stretched over his head, and back again. He closes his eyes and smiles contentedly, so I continue, brushing my fingertips back across his chest and down his abdomen.

His skin is so soft and pale, it reminds me of the flowering dogwoods that would bloom in spring at the park near the house where I grew up. I read about them in school once and became fascinated by them. I would sit in the grass underneath them and run my fingers along the white petal-like blossoms, examining the tiny flowers at their center.

I make a mental note to tell Ash about them sometime. I bet he’d love them, want to study them and draw them.

The velvety texture of his skin is contrasted by a coarse trail of jet-black hair. I follow the trail down, stopping as my hand grazes past two small scars low on his belly, just inside his hips. “What are these from?” I ask.

He glances down briefly and then rests his head back, “They’re from a hysterectomy.”

“Oh. So, you can’t—?”

“Mm-mm, you can’t get me pregnant or anything.”

“Good to know. So, if you want kids one day, you’d just have to adopt?”

“Not necessarily. I had my eggs frozen, just in case. So, I could have a biological child, I’d just need a surrogate.”

“Really? Do you think you’ll do it? Have kids?”

“Oh, god, I don’t know. I had them stored for ten years, so I have plenty of time to decide. It’s not really something I’m worried about right now.”

“Makes sense,” I whisper as my hand resumes its journey, brushing my fingertips up and down one thigh and then the other before making my way back up again, all the way up to his face, turning it gently toward me. When he opens his eyes again, before I can stop myself, I say, “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”

His eyebrows stitch together in a pained expression, “Atlas…”

I know. I know it’s not fair. I can’t say things like that if we’re “just friends”. He doesn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over his face. But look at us, we’ve already crossed so many lines tonight that the walls I’d built up are crumbling around me, and I’m not ready to put them back. Not yet. Not tonight. So, even if I shouldn’t, I have to ask, “Will you stay? Will you sleep here tonight?”

Putting his arms around me, he smiles, “Yeah, of course I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” I exhale, relieved. "Can I get you anything? Do you want some water?"

“Yes, actually, that would be amazing.”

“Okay, I’ll go get some.”

“Thanks. And, um, can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, it’s just out the door to your left.”

In the kitchen, I drink down a large glass of water in one breath, practically gasping by the time I finish it. As I refill it, along with a second glass for Ash, I turn my head slightly to smell myself… just in case. Thankfully, I don’t stink yet, but I’ve accumulated enough layers of sweat throughout the night that I’m certain I’ll be ripe by morning.

I glance at the bathroom door, debating, wondering if it’s a step too far, too intimate, but decide to ask him anyway.

When the door opens, I walk over to meet him on his way out. I hand him the glass of water and he drinks it nearly as quickly as I did. “Thank you,” he says, breathless.

“Are you tired?” I ask.

“Not really, why?”

“Do you want to take a shower with me?”

“That shower?” he points to the door he just came out of, “Is there even enough room for two people?”

“Not really,” I shake my head with a smile, knowing it’s ridiculous, but still hoping he says yes.

He considers for a moment, searching my face as if he’s waiting for me to tell him I’m joking. When I don’t, he replies with a shrug, “Fuck it, sure.”

Some find it strange, but I enjoy showering with people. It’s intimate in its own way. I mean, aside from the obvious, like being naked in a small space not really meant for two people, placing hands on an arm or waist or back as we maneuver around each other. That has its own pleasures too, of course, but I like getting a glimpse into people’s routines, their daily habits. All those little things that no one else notices, or pays attention to, or has the privilege of witnessing. Like the way Ash never puts his face under the water. He tips his head back to rinse it, gets right up to the hairline, but no farther, ensuring gravity prevents the water from running down over his face.

When I ask him why, he says, “I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m drowning.” And then I understand. I remember the story he told me about nearly drowning in the ocean, how he was caught in the undertow when he was a child, how he would have died if it wasn’t for his mother.

We laugh as we awkwardly squeeze past each other, trading places so I can rinse my hair. As I stand under the water and close my eyes, I feel him place his hands gently on my abdomen, slowly tracing the lines of the muscle just below the surface with his fingertips. “Jesus, look at you,” he says, “maybe I should take up rock climbing.”

I let out a small laugh, “It’s fun. I could teach you.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s for me. It’s a shame you ever have to put clothes on, though.”

“Not tonight, I don’t.” I shut off the water quickly and then turn back to him, “I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.” He answers a little too quickly, and then adds, “Not that I have anything to wear anyway.”

“I would’ve given you something if you wanted. Too late now, though.”

He laughs as I hop out to grab a couple of towels.

After drying off, I walk over to the sink and grab a fresh toothbrush from the cabinet below. It’s brand new and still in the package. I hold it up to show it to him and then set it on the counter, “If you want,” I say before grabbing my own toothbrush and running it under the water.

He picks it up and raises his eyebrows a me, “You do this often enough that you keep these on hand, huh?”

I shake my head to reassure him, “No, they’re Dawn’s. She’s super weird about brushing her teeth all the time. She’s almost always carrying one around. There’s like ten of them down there, she won’t care if you take one.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely as he opens the package and discards it in the trash. He squeezes toothpaste along the bristles, but then stops and looks up at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really nice.” I can’t quite read the expression on his face when he says this, it’s almost as if the sentiment makes him sad.

In a pitiful attempt to lighten the mood, I tell him, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s purely selfish.”

He gives me a small smile, “Oh yeah? My breath is that bad?”

“No, I just want you to be comfortable. Because the more comfortable you are, the longer you’ll stay.” Instinctually, I lean over and kiss his forehead. I don’t know why, it just felt natural to do so, like I’d done it a hundred times before. As soon as my lips graze his skin, I know that I have. I see it. Many times, in many different places I don’t recognize. On a couch or in a bed or even standing on a beach. It feels so real that it takes me aback. I pull away and he looks up at me with that same look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, knowing now what’s making him sad. I’m not acting like a friend; I’m acting like a boyfriend. And we both know I can’t give him that. Though, I’m starting to have trouble remembering why. Seems like it’s taking more effort not to. “We should get some sleep,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” he replies, and then turns away to brush his teeth.

I put fresh glasses of water by the bed, turn off the lamp, and lie down, turning to face the wall because I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m facing him when he comes to bed. I don’t trust myself, and I feel like I’ve done enough damage already. He’s probably upset with me, and I wouldn’t blame him if he changed his mind and decided to leave.

I prepare myself for the worst when he finally comes in, but he surprises me by getting into bed, scooting over to me, and pressing his entire body against the length of mine. He wraps his arm around me and squeezes me tight, kissing the back of my shoulder. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be so sweet to me, but I’m grateful for it. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax into him as I drift off to sleep.

Prev // Next

#the desire to stay in their little bubble for as long as possible #but also knowing it can't last forever #at least that what he believes #cracks are forming in his logic tho #ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode

91 notes · View notes

mandalhoerian · 2 days

Text

sacrosanct | leon kennedy x reader | 2

< PREVIOUS | NEXT (c.s.) >

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Leon, a paladin of the temple who became a disillusioned oathbreaker, returns from years of war with a noble title and shattered faith. Once devoted to the Saintess who healed him, Leon's admiration has twisted into repressed desire—feelings he could never express, tainted by guilt and shame. Now a celebrated hero, he’s drawn back not to the kingdom’s praises, but just for a glimpse of you to move on with his life.

The god he abandoned has other plans for him.

word count: 13K

warnings: none. leon being embarrassing is all... you'll see

disclaimer: Leon has some backwards thinking about "providing and protecting" during the end of the fic. Please keep in mind there's two reasons as to why that is:

1) this is a historical fiction no matter how fantastical it is, so conservative values very much exist

2) it actually isn't gender-based. leon is very much okay with the reader doing whatever she wants. he just has a worshipper mentality when it comes to the reader and sees the real world beneath her, so to speak? he basically has her on a pedestal that nobody is allowed to take her down from. she's god's favorite princess and he wants to treat her as such and her serving others is grating on his nerves (they don't deserve it AND she deserves better is the theme here)

3) get your whimsy on and just enjoy being worshipped damn

note: i meant this as a two-shot but . alas, we're here. i swear the next one is the final one. I SWEAR

🌀 READ ON AO3 !

The sound of scrubbing fills the busy kitchen, a rhythmic rasp of bristles against copper. The bucket of soapy water at your side ripples with each jerking movement of your hand, and the cloth slips again, plunging your fingers into the cold water. You wince, pulling back, hands trembling as they fumble over the simple task of cleaning the tarnished pot.

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips. This should be easy—anyone could scrub a pot, right? Any maid worth her salt would handle this without even thinking. But here you are, elbows deep in water, raw fingers rubbing awkwardly at the stubborn stains, trying to remember how much pressure to apply without ruining the metal. It’s a dance you haven’t quite learned yet, despite the amount of practice in the Redfield household.

The weight of the chore feels unnatural in your hands. Once, they were only meant to offer blessings, outstretched for others to kiss, the soft skin never meant for labor. Now, every slip, every misstep, reminds you of how far you’ve fallen. The holy aura that once clung to you like a second skin feels stripped away, leaving you bare, vulnerable—human in the most unflattering way.

Another sigh, heavier this time, as you scrub harder, muscles protesting. Your fingers ache, the bristles biting into your palms, and you fight the urge to just let the cloth drop. The world wasn’t supposed to feel so gritty, so solid. The faint scent of soap mingles with the cool breeze wafting through the open kitchen window, but it does nothing to lift the fog that wraps around your thoughts.

"You're doing it wrong again."

The sharp correction snaps you out of your reverie, and you look up to see Sarah standing over you, hands on her hips. There’s no cruelty in her eyes, only impatience. She bends down, effortlessly taking the pot from your hands.

"See?" She shows you how to twist the rag in tight circles, moving the cloth firmly around the base. "It’s not about force; it’s about control."

Control. You were once the embodiment of control, the saintess who never faltered, who embodied grace in every breath. But here, in the kitchen, control slips through your fingers like water, and you struggle to even follow the motions.

"I see," you murmur, though the words feel hollow. You watch as Sarah finishes the task in a fraction of the time it took you, setting the gleaming pot down with a nod before bustling off to tend to something else.

Once alone again, you look down at your hands, wrinkled from the water, red and sore from the effort. The delicate touch that once administered blessings now feels clumsy, the softness worn away by the rigors of everyday tasks. Dirt clings beneath your nails, and though it frustrates you, there’s something grounding about it, something... real.

Ethelion’s grace never truly belonged to me, you think. I was only ever a vessel. And when that vessel cracks, the divine cannot stay.

Rising from your crouch, you stretch your aching back. Strange how heavy your body feels now, no longer ethereal, no longer buoyed by the sacred weight of divine purpose. Instead, you are bound by flesh and bone, muscles screaming at every chore.

The day stretches ahead, an endless rhythm of work. There are beds to be made, floors to be swept, linens to fold. Each task pulls you further away from the pedestal you once stood upon, but there’s a quiet solace in the routine, in the steady, simple motions. The other maids chat as they move through their own chores, but you remain mostly silent, your thoughts too tangled to join in.

By mid-afternoon, your feet lead you to the garden, the one place that offers a semblance of peace. The air is lighter here, the scent of lilacs and roses calming in a way that nothing else seems to be. Flowers bloom in delicate clusters, their petals soft against your fingertips as you run your hands through them absently.

"Careful now,” someone calls out. "You don’t want to bruise the petals."

You turn to see Piers, the young gardener, smiling at you as he wipes his hands on his apron. He’s always so gentle with the plants, his fingers coaxing them into life with the same patience he shows with you. There’s dirt smudged across his cheek, his hands stained with earth, but it suits him.

"I wasn’t trying to," you reply, embarrassed by your carelessness. Your touch once healed the wounded, and now you worry about crushing flowers.

"Didn’t say you were," he says, coming closer to kneel beside you. "Just reminding you. These flowers... they’re like people. Handle them too roughly, and they’ll wilt. Handle them too gently, and they’ll never bloom."

There is a meaning in there that makes your skin prickle, an awareness that you wish you could erase. He understands too much, has seen too much. Not many of the Redfield staff know your true identity—the noble family wishes to preserve their secrecy regarding you—but Piers knows. From the day you stepped through the estate gates, he knew.

The afternoon sun shines brightly as the two of you fall into the usual silence, the one you enjoy. As you work together, weeding and trimming the hedges. You try to copy his movements, but you feel clumsy beside him, fumbling over yourself with every touch. The lilies you looked after in the temple were plucked and placed in elegant vases, you only ever stood in their presence in the garden, as the monks cared for the vegetation in the sanctified grounds. The fact that you were chosen to stand for Ethelion, you didn’t touch anything—they touched you, and you felt like the flower, the angel of mercy, the beautiful goddess. The ones that surround you now call for more work to thrive, to grow. It seems that no matter how hard you try, your touch won’t be enough.

You reach to pick a weed and nearly knock over a rosebush, the thorns grazing your hand. The sting feels grounding, in a strange way, and for a moment, you linger in it, letting the pain settle into your skin. It doesn't immediately heal like any other wound used to.

"When will you teach me?" You blurt out, looking over at him. "How to properly help you?"

Piers chuckles softly, carefully correcting your posture with his hands until you get into position. "Soon, little lady. Soon, you'll be good at this, just as you are with everything you set your mind to."

Years after, you're still awkward and at a loss with touch. A lifetime of only coming to contact with fabric and porcelain will do that to you, and you think that he notices as such—the way you flinch at unexpected contact, the way you seem to carry that old elegance that never went away with you in all of your actions, even as you struggle with the physicalities of your new life.

To his credit, he doesn't question it, simply guides you patiently as if it's natural. If the rest of the staff finds it odd, they don't say a thing.

This is another world. A world very different from your life before. People of your standing hug and hold hands, brush against one another. When you first began your training, it felt overwhelming, like being engulfed by a current you didn't know how to fight. Now, it is like the sea itself, ever-present but constant.

"Firm grip," Piers says quietly, putting his own hands over yours to guide the motion as he weeds the soil around the small hedge bushes. "You need to have a light touch, but not too light or it won't be efficient."

You adjust your fingers accordingly, gripping the clump of earth and tugging. It comes loose without resistance, falling into your hand. A smile spreads across your face, your eyes brightening.

"Like this?"

"Yes, perfect," Piers says, nodding encouragingly. The corners of his lips quirk up in the barest hint of a grin. "And don't be afraid to get dirty. Mud is natural and good for the earth, helps the flowers flourish."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you find yourself wishing, for a moment, that life would remain like this. It isn’t comfortable—not in the way the temple had been, with its cushioned chairs and silken sheets, the robes so thick and warm they felt like velvet against your skin. But here, surrounded by flowers, with the wind ruffling through your hair, it feels...right.

Maybe that is why you found yourself returning to the gardens whenever the chance arose, whether it was after completing your daily chores or even on your days off, even if you were sure you wouldn’t learn anything from it. There was a comfort that came with the sun shining down on you as you pruned and picked at the roses, looking forward to the day when you would be knowledgeable enough to plant lilies on your own and care for them how they deserved.

The day passes in quiet rhythm after that, the routine of your tasks blending into the hum of the estate. There’s comfort in the dirt, in the steady, simple work of tending to life, of watching something grow. It’s not grand, it’s not divine, but it feels real, and for now, that’s enough.

As the sun dips below the horizon, you return to your small room in the servants’ quarters. The day’s dirt still clings to your skin, and as you sit at your modest mirror, you catch a glimpse of your reflection. You’re no longer the saintess, no longer the holy vessel. The person staring back at you is human, grounded in the earth just like the flowers you’ve come to care for.

The soft clink of porcelain and silverware fills the dining hall along with the the quiet hum of conversation between the Redfield family. You stand at the ready, your hands clasped before you, ever attentive to the needs of the table. The crystal carafe of wine glimmers faintly beside you, waiting to be lifted, though your thoughts are far from the task at hand.

"What happened after that?" Lady Claire leans forward, a sly smile on her lips as she gestures animatedly in a very unladylike manner. "You can’t just brush that under the rug! The hero of the kingdom storms into a coronation and attacks the Archbishop? I need details!"

Lord Chris waves his fork dismissively, his mouth full of roasted vegetables. He huffs out a breath, shaking his head as he reaches for his wineglass, "It wasn’t as dramatic as you’re making it sound. Just a bit of a misunderstanding, really."

Lady Claire laughs light and airy as she leans back in her seat. "A misunderstanding that resulted in the knight attacking an esteemed member of the Church of Ethelia? In public. How is that not dramatic?"

You glance toward Chris as you subtly refill his glass, the liquid swirling gently. His features are calm, but there’s a tension around his mouth that suggests he’s holding back more than he’s letting on. You pause, hoping to catch more of the conversation without drawing attention to yourself, your curiosity piqued.

The mental image of Leon doing something as bold as interrupting an event in the capital, let alone something as severe as accosting a highly-respected man of faith is... Unrealistic and highly out of character for him. It seemed too distant from the kind boy who would climb trees to bring down fruits just to make you smile.

The man clears his throat as he cuts into his steak, the knife slicing through the tender meat with ease. "It was more like a minor incident than an attack, honestly. No one was hurt, and the Archbishop has already moved past it."

"Why would he do such a thing?"

It's a great question. Leon wasn't known as someone who made reckless decisions like that—if anything, he was known for following his orders without hesitation, which was what made him an excellent paladin, regardless of what the rest of the clergy thought about him. You had even heard whispers among the priests about his loyalty, his dedication, how he was unfailingly loyal to the temple. He seemed like a steadfast soldier, reliable and sturdy, always steady on his feet no matter what trials Ethelion sent his way.

Lord Chris exhales slowly through his nose as his gaze falls upon his wife. There's a pause, the air heavy with unsaid words, before he responds. "Maybe something just snapped when he saw that Archbishop standing there, acting like everything’s fine after everything he’s seen and been through."

His response is blunt, the words like a punch to your gut. You try to swallow against the dryness in your throat, blinking back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill, biting the inside of your cheek.

An uncomfortable silence settles across the dinner table, broken only by Lady Claire's uneasy chuckle.

You exhale slowly, the sound barely audible, as you reach for the water pitcher. It isn’t until your hand trembles as it hovers over the delicate glass surface that you realize how tense your body is. The truth that he spoke, that slipped through you like poison in bloodstream—

Would Leon attack you the same way he did the Archbishop? The Saintess who sent him off into a war with a prayer and a blessing? Would you, too, end up with his fingers clutching at your clothes, teeth gritting together in a snarl, the words of accusation cutting into you as you stood frozen in place, unable to respond?

"Do you think he’s... dangerous?" Lady Claire asks, stripped off of all her playfulness. "Should we be worried?"

Lord Chris chuckles, though there’s a bitter edge to it. "No, Leon’s not dangerous. Not to us, anyway. He’s just... different. War changes people. It’s not something you can just walk away from without it leaving scars."

Your hands tighten around the stem of the pitcher, steadying your grip. The mention of the Holy War brings a hundred memories rushing back, as fresh as the day they were forged. They wash over you, filling your veins with a rush of sorrow and anger, regret and remorse—

You sent Leon there. Into the midst of that violence and hatred, where men became monsters. Where his blade tasted blood for the first time and changed him forever, like an animal weaned off of milk and discovering a taste for flesh. You did that to him. Did that to all of the righteous paladins and courageous soldiers who died in that field, whose bones now lie in unmarked graves.

Leon would be right to hate you. Ethelion himself should despise you, condemn you. It's why He has let go of you so early into your service.

You don't know why Lord Chris doesn't spit on your face. Why Lady Claire allows you to pour their drinks and serve their meals. How could you ever repent for what you have done to the paladins of this kingdom, their fellow noblemen of faith?

"Enough talk of battle at the dinner table," Dame Jill chides gently, a soothing balm amidst the tension. "We've spent too long dwelling in the dark. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"Right, right," Chris agrees, shaking his head with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

The moment between them is tender, so simple yet so intimate that you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding. The way Jill’s hand lingers on Chris’s arm, the way he leans into her touch without even realizing it—it’s a closeness you’ve only ever observed from a distance, a kind of bond you’ve never experienced. You’re not sure you ever will.

"Let's talk about more exciting things," Lady Claire picks up her enthusiasm once more, and as if she's read your mind, she says, "How long do you think is until his marriage to Princess Ashley?"

Chris chokes on his food. So would you if you were in his position.

Jill sighs, a thin smile on her lips as she shoots him a look. "That isn't a conversation we're meant to entertain."

"I don’t think Leon’s worried about marriage right now, Claire," Chris says, though with a hint of amusement. "He’s got enough on his plate without worrying about courting anyone."

"Still," Claire continues, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "I bet every noble lady in the capital is throwing themselves at him right now. A war hero, a noble Margrave, and still single? They’re probably lining up just to get a chance."

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at the thought. Is that really what’s happening? Is Leon being paraded in front of noble families, their daughters hoping to catch his eye, hoping to be the one he chooses? The idea leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, though you can’t quite place why.

Leon... a Margrave now, a hero of the kingdom, sitting at the top of nobility’s ladder, one step away from being at the king’s side. The image of him standing among lords and ladies, dressed in fine silk and polished armor, feels alien in your mind. You remember him in a different way—so much simpler, much... closer. A heavy feeling settles in your chest.

"Claire, please," Jill interrupts with a chuckle, light but firm. "Leave the poor man alone."

The conversation moves on, but you remain rooted in place, the weight of it all pressing down on you. You steal a glance at Jill and Chris, their easy smiles, their shared glances, and you can’t help but wonder if Leon will find someone like that. Someone who can stand by his side, someone who fits seamlessly into his new world.

Perhaps it's for the best, after the "holy cause" that left him with nothing but a medal of honor and an oathbreaker reputation, the life of a soldier, a faithful paladin cut off from divinity and glory. To have the blessing of Ethelion once again, as a lord, with a beautiful young woman to share the legacy—it's a picture that could only bring envy to anyone's heart.

The manor feels like a gilded cage.

Leon slumps back in his chair, the smooth leather creaking beneath the weight of his armorless body. Before him lies an endless spread of parchment on the grand oak desk in his office—documents stamped with wax seals, crests of various noble families, and inked signatures of men and women he couldn’t care less about.

The words blur together into a maddening jumble, formalities and regulations, reminders of his newfound role as Margrave, a title he’d never wanted but had earned through blood and grit on the battlefield. Now, instead of commanding soldiers, he commands... paper.

The clinking of metal rings from across the room as Dame Ingrid Hunnigan arranges a fresh stack of documents beside him, her presence calm and efficient as always. Her gaze flickers toward him, calculating, and Leon doesn’t miss the slight narrowing of her eyes as she notes the papers he has yet to sign. The steady tick of the ornate clock in the corner seems louder than it should.

"My Lord."

Leon looks up, blinking as though he’s surfacing from deep water. “Yes?”

“We’re behind schedule,” she says, ever pragmatic, her gaze flicking briefly to the mountain of paperwork before returning to meet his. “If we’re to have everything in order for your proposal to Princess Ashley, we’ll need to finalize these arrangements by the end of the week.”

Leon freezes, his quill hovering above the paper like a blade suspended in air, droplets of ink forming a dark blot on the parchment beneath. His heart thuds once, hard, against his ribs, and he feels a strange coldness spreading from his chest to his limbs. Proposal. Marriage. Princess Ashley.

It was the logical next step, wasn’t it? The hero of the war, the man who saved the princess, standing beside her as her husband, uniting the people with their fairy-tale ending.

But the thought of it feels like a noose tightening around his throat.

“I’m not marrying her.”

Hunnigan’s sharp intake of breath is almost imperceptible, but Leon catches it. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, but he can feel the shift in her—an unspoken surprise. "But—”

He places the quill down with a deliberate slowness, his fingers resting on the desk’s polished surface.

“I won’t marry her,” Leon interrupts, low but firm, as if saying it again will solidify his decision, make it real.

“Sir, I’m not certain you understand the implications. The court is already abuzz with speculation. The king’s council has all but planned the ceremony. If you—”

“No.” Leon’s tone sharpens, the edge of it cutting through the room. His jaw tightens, and he pushes back from the desk, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. The papers, the plans, the obligations—they all feel like chains, tethering him to a world he never wanted to belong to.

Hunnigan doesn’t flinch, though she tracks his every movement, assessing. “Then what will you do? The court demands an answer, and soon.”

“I don’t care about their impatience,” Leon cuts her off, harder than he intends. He runs a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair, his frustration mounting. “I’ve just returned from war. I’ve barely had time to breathe, and now they want me to walk down the aisle? It’s absurd.”

“You’re not just a soldier anymore,” Ingrid replies evenly. “You’re a noble now, Sir Leon. A Margrave. And with that title comes expectations. Marrying Princess Ashley solidifies your position. It ensures stability.”

Stability. It’s the word that grates against his skin like a thorn. Stability meant confinement. It meant being locked into a life that wasn’t his own, chained to a destiny he didn’t choose. Marrying into the royal family would make him something he never wanted to be.

From the temple to the palace. Still a pawn.

And worse, it would make him someone unrecognizable to himself.

When she only gets irritable silence in return, Hunnigan doubles down, "The people adore you. You saved Princess Ashley. A marriage between you two would unite the noble houses, secure your standing. It’s—"

"I don’t care." The words burst out of him, louder than intended, and the air between them seems to crackle with the tension of it. He meets her look, daring her to challenge him, to push him further into this corner he feels trapped in. "I’m not marrying her. I never promised that. I never wanted that."

"It’s not about what you want, my lord. It’s about what the kingdom needs. What the crown expects from you."

"The crown expects a puppet," Leon mutters, his voice dropping to an icy low. He rises from the chair, the sound of his boots heavy against the floor as he paces the room, his movements sharp, restless. "They dress me up in these fine clothes, give me a title, and expect me to smile and play my part in their little game. I didn’t fight a war to become this."

"You fought a war to protect the kingdom. And this is part of that protection," Hunnigan argues, "You’ve earned the people’s respect. The life of a hero comes with its responsibilities."

"Responsibilities." He almost laughs at that, though there’s nothing humorous about it. His hand drifts to the hilt of his sword—a relic from the battlefield that feels more like a part of him than the heavy mantle of nobility ever will. "You think I don’t know about responsibilities? I’ve seen men die under my command, Hunnigan. I’ve seen villages burn, innocent lives lost. That’s responsibility. This... this is just playing dress-up."

Hunnigan exhales softly, her face softening, just a little. "I understand. I do. But we live in a world where appearances matter just as much as actions. The people need their hero. And they need their princess to stand beside him."

“I’m not going to chain myself to a life I don’t want. I’ve fought for this kingdom, bled for it, nearly died for it. But I’m done letting other people decide my fate.”

She sighs, crossing her arms as she studies him carefully. “And what do you plan to do? Walk away from the nobility entirely? Abandon your responsibilities now that you’ve earned the title?”

Leon meets her gaze, his eyes dark, stormy. “I’ll fulfill my duties as Margrave. But I’ll do it on my terms.”

There’s a long pause, the weight of his words hanging heavy between them. Ingrid’s expression softens, just slightly, but her professionalism remains unshaken. “You know this won’t be easy. The court won’t be happy with your decision. They’ll try to pressure you, manipulate you. You’ll be seen as defying tradition.”

“Let them,” Leon replies, pushing himself up from the chair, the tension in his muscles begging for release. “I’ve faced worse things than court gossip.”

Hunnigan watches him for a moment longer before nodding, though the concern doesn’t fade. “Very well. But if you’re going to make a decision like this, you should be prepared for the consequences.”

He nods, feeling a wave of exhaustion settle over him. “I am a walking consequence, Hunnigan."

She turns and leaves him to the silence of the room, her footsteps quiet against the stone floor. The moment she’s gone, Leon exhales deeply, his chest tight and his thoughts swirling in chaos. The paperwork remains unfinished on his desk, an ever-growing mountain of expectations and demands that suffocates him more with every passing minute.

He can’t stay here. Not now.

Grabbing his cloak, Leon moves toward the door, his steps quick and purposeful. Outside, the air feels thick, the walls of the manor closing in on him like a vice. He’s grown used to wide open spaces—the battlefield, the wilderness. Here, in the capital, everything feels too close, too crowded, too suffocating.

This is how you must have felt, he thinks bitterly as he pulls the hood of his cloak over his head, his mind drifting to you. Caged in, always watched, always expected to be something more than human.

The streets of the capital stretch before him, bustling with people going about their day—merchants haggling, children running through the alleys, noblewomen in fine dresses gliding down the cobblestone paths. Leon moves through them like a shadow, his presence hidden beneath the cloak, his face obscured from the watchful eyes of guards and passersby.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he’s alone.

He walks with no destination in mind, his boots scuffing against the uneven stones, his thoughts swirling with frustration and longing. The scent of fresh bread drifts through the air from a nearby bakery, mingling with the earthy scent of rain-soaked stone, but none of it grounds him. It only reminds him of the distance between the world he’s in and the world he longs for—the simple, the honest, the free.

His steps carry him further into the city until he reaches the cathedral gates, and he stops, gazing up at the towering spires and stained glass windows. A shudder of recognition courses through his spine as he recalls the last time he was here, the day he knelt at your feet and promised loyalty.

Ethelion may have forsaken him, but this place still calls to him in some strange, primal way—a piece of his past, a connection to his lost faith.

People file in and out of the massive wooden doors, their voices raised in a joyful hum. There is an energy to the crowd that he hadn't noticed before, a buoyant air that sweeps through the throng of worshippers like a tide. Curious, he follows the flow, stepping aside to allow the others to enter as he peers in, watching the mass from the outskirts. The chapel is packed to its gilded seams, everyone cramming into every available space. Every seat is occupied; even the pews on the second story are crammed with devotees, necks straining to catch a glimpse of the spectacle below.

Being on the outside looking in is...strange for him, all his life, he'd been on the inside. An honorary knight, a devoted acolyte, then, a holy warrior tasked with bringing peace back to the world. Now he's on the other side, on the edges. Alone. He should have been in the crowd, standing just beside the Saintess, having a place in line with her.

Now, he's one of the many faces in the crowd. One of the people he had protected with his sword.

At the pulpit stands a new Saintess, clad in shimmering robes of purest white, her mask alight with a silvery glow. The feeling of uncanny valley crawls through him, like the sight is wrong somehow. The figure before him looks the same, the attire, the veil, and even the ethereal glow. However, everything feels off. Where you had held yourself tall and steady with a presence that demanded attention, the current Saintess seems shy, her movements small and uncertain as she addresses the crowd.

Leon's frown deepens as he listens to the girl speak, sweet and lilting, but lacking in the conviction he remembers from your sermons. There's no passion in it, no fervor or fire. Just rote memorization, a pretty puppet reciting lines written by others.

It's not supposed to be like this. He doesn't get the Saintess Cycle, or whatever bullshit it's called that he was informed about right after his outburst.

He had never heard of it before that day. Not even when he’d been sworn in as a paladin. Not when he had stood at your side, thinking you were eternal, untouchable.

The letter sent by the Temple said the Saintess is a vessel—a temporary, ephemeral thing. When she reaches the end of her "cycle," she is retired, replaced by a new, younger girl blessed by Ethelion. It is the way of the divine, they wrote. It’s natural. It’s necessary.

Necessary. The word is poison, burning through him.

The cycle they speak of is cruel, cold. He remembers it again: Once the Saintess matures, her divine grace wanes, and Ethelion selects a new girl, free from worldly knowledge, pure in body and mind.

Pure. That’s what they had valued about you. Not your kindness, not your wisdom, not the way your smile had once lit up entire rooms. Just purity. What do they even mean by that word?

So that’s it then, he thinks bitterly. They’ve stripped you of everything. Reduced you to some… some tool to be replaced when your usefulness runs out.

He can't accept this. He refuses to.

This “cycle” they speak of is nothing but a lie—a grotesque farce designed to keep the chosen girls under their thumb, to strip them of their humanity, their will so they are easier to control, more obedient, self-sacrificing. They want to act as though it’s all part of some divine plan, but Leon knows better. He’s seen the temple’s machinations, the politics woven into their robes, the way they turn divine grace into something transactional.

You were never just a vessel, he tells himself, his jaw tight. You were never just a role to be filled.

He had sworn an oath to protect you, to serve you, and yet, when you needed him most, he had been gone—fighting in wars, chasing glory on blood-soaked battlefields while they took everything from you.

Leon steps back, ready to turn away from the chapel that now feels hollow, stripped of the sanctity it once held, when something catches him—sharp, like the sudden crack of a whip in the still air.

A scent.

It slips through the incense and the stale breath of prayer, weaving between the worshippers like a thread of memory pulled taut. Faint, almost hidden beneath the smoke and ash of the sacred space, but unmistakable. It strikes him like a blade, cutting through the fog of disbelief clouding his mind.

Lilies.

Among the scentless masses, with their simple soaps and the cloying odor of frankincense that clings to the walls—the smell of lilies.

His pulse stutters, a beat skipped in time, before surging back with a violent, thunderous force that shakes him to his core.

It’s your scent.

His breath halts in his throat, suspended, as the world tilts, shifting on its axis as his focus narrows. Someone brushes past him, draped in a nondescript cloak, their head bowed like the rest, just another figure blending into the sea of worshippers.

But his soul screams.

He knows it’s you.

The recognition strikes him so hard he reels with it, body twisting as he turns sharply, every muscle tensing with a frantic energy he can’t control. His eyes dart around, searching, desperate. His heart is slamming against his ribs, each beat like a drum echoing in a cathedral. The scent lingers, tantalizingly close—so close he can taste it, feel it—but the figure is slipping away, vanishing into the faceless crowd, swallowed whole by the masses.

"Wait!" The word rips from his throat, harsh, strangled, louder than intended. Heads turn, whispers hiss, but they are meaningless sounds in a world reduced to the scent of lilies and the figure that’s slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Wait, please!" His yell cracks, raw, frantic. He pushes through the crowd, bodies jostling against him, every step a growing surge of panic that claws at his chest.

The scent fades, thinning like smoke dissipating in the wind, until it’s gone.

Gone.

Leon stumbles to a stop, breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling in time with the wild thrum of his heartbeat. His hands shake, fingers curled into fists at his sides as if he could grasp hold of the memory, keep it alive through sheer will.

But you’re gone.

The world around him fades to a dull hum, the whispers of disapproving worshippers like gnats buzzing in the distance. His vision blurs at the edges, narrowing, tunneling, until all he can see is the space you once occupied. His chest constricts, tightens, the weight of everything—of this moment, of the years lost, of you—crashing down on him with the force of a wave that threatens to drag him under.

No, you’re here.

The thought is dizzying, overwhelming in its certainty. You’re here, in the capital, breathing the same air as him, walking the same streets. The realization hits him like cold water, shocking him awake, filling his lungs with something raw and desperate. His mind spins, thoughts unspooling in a frantic mess he can’t make sense of.

Leon strides into the office, his boots thudding against the polished floor, the sound bouncing off the high, vaulted ceiling. The door swings shut behind him with a muted thud, the energy of his entrance reverberating through the quiet space. Hunnigan barely looks up from her desk, the rustle of paper and the scratching of her quill the only acknowledgment of his presence. The scent of ink, parchment, and faint traces of cedarwood drift through the air—but unable to overpower the lilies at the back of his throat, like a ghost in the chamber.

Without preamble, he blurts out, "Where does one buy lily soap in the capital?"

Hunnigan’s quill freezes mid-stroke, her brows knitting together as she raises her head, her gaze flicking up to meet his with an expression of mild annoyance. Her office is meticulously arranged, papers stacked neatly in front of her, the ink pot perfectly centered on the desk. Leon's sudden intrusion seems to upset the delicate balance of the room.

"My lord?" Her voice carries that familiar undercurrent of impatience, but Leon can see the confusion etched into her features. "Lily soap?"

“Yes," he snaps, pacing before her desk, his movements restless, unsettled. "Soap scented like lilies."

Hunnigan’s stare is blank, clearly trying to piece together the urgency behind his question. She places her quill down carefully, folds her hands in front of her, and straightens her back, as if preparing for some bureaucratic debate.

"I'm afraid I don't—"

In an instant, Leon slams both hands against her desk, rattling the ink pot and causing a cascade of parchment to shift slightly out of place. The sharp bang echoes through the room, and for a second, there is silence, broken only by the rapid rise and fall of Leon's breath. A few sheets of paper flutter down from the pile, but he barely notices.

"Lilies, Hunnigan," Leon grits out, leaning forward, his eyes flashing with a desperation that feels foreign even to him. “Where do they sell lily soap? I need to know, now.”

To her credit, Hunnigan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t so much as blink at his intensity. The edges of her lips tighten, but she meets his frustration with her usual unflinching calm, tilting her head slightly, watching him with that sharp calculation, as if measuring the weight of his demand against her need for propriety. "Lord Leon, it will require time, but if you would like, we will investigate the sources. Such things aren’t kept on record like weapons or grain."

Leon drops into the chair opposite her with a heavy sigh, his hands pressing against his temples as if he can massage away the growing headache pulsing at his skull, but there's a part of him—the rational, disciplined soldier—that knows he can't barrel through this like an enemy barricade.

Hunnigan regards him thoughtfully, studying him as though she’s contemplating his sanity. Finally, she relents with a small nod. "However, at the top of my head, I can tell you that a fragrance like that would most likely be sold at shops that cater to the upper class. Apothecaries, perhaps, though I’ve heard of merchants who specialize in rare oils and soaps for wealthier clientele."

"But no," Leon says, frustration building, "that person... that soap can't have come from somewhere like that. It's too expensive. They're not wealthy, not someone who could afford those kinds of luxuries."

She taps a finger thoughtfully against the edge of her desk, not asking any questions, thankfully. "Commoner households purchase their necessities from street vendors. Most don't have the means to indulge in frivolities, but there are some apothecaries that sell fragrant items for medicinal purposes. Perhaps that’s where it came from."

Leon's mind races, his thoughts jumbling together, ticking off possibilities. He could search the market districts, scour the streets where vendors peddle their wares, but that would take time—too much time. And still, you could be anywhere, hiding among the crowds or nestled in some quiet corner of the capital. He drags a hand through his hair, the rigid set of his jaw flexing.

His thoughts swirl, trying to latch onto something, anything that will give him a lead. And then an idea begins to take shape, unformed at first, but gaining momentum the more he entertains it. He sits up, his eyes sharper, clearer. "Hypothetically, if we were to open a scented soap stall in the market, do you think people would buy it?"

Hunnigan’s brows raise, clearly not expecting the question. "The common folk aren’t exactly known for their fastidiousness when it comes to daily bathing, but soap has been increasing in popularity among the younger generations, particularly young women."

That catches his attention. The market is shifting, changing with the times. And you—you always appreciated those little luxuries, even when you were cloistered away, out of reach. You might not be living among the nobility, but that doesn't mean you wouldn’t still indulge in what small comforts you could.

Leon straightens, the hint of an idea forming. "Good," he murmurs, nodding more to himself than to her. "Then we’ll need to monopolize the market."

Hunnigan watches him with a raised brow, a subtle hint of disbelief in her gaze. "May I ask what exactly brought about this sudden interest in the soap trade? Surely you haven’t returned from the battlefield only to decide you’d like to dabble in perfumeries?"

Her tone is dry, but Leon can hear the underlying curiosity in her words. For a moment, he almost laughs at the absurdity of it all—a knight of the kingdom, scouring the city for lily-scented soap like a man possessed. But the laugh dies in his throat, replaced by the phantom scent of lilies, achingly familiar, almost painful in its clarity.

"I’m looking for someone," he admits, low, quiet, but no less determined. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly as if holding on to his last thread of hope. "And this... this is the only way I can think of to find them."

"Someone," Hunnigan repeats slowly, drawing out the word as if rolling it over her tongue, weighing its significance.

He nods, his jaw clenched.

Hunnigan stares at him for a long moment, and then, without another word, she picks up her quill and begins to write. The scratch of the pen fills the silence as she scribbles down his instructions with the precision and efficiency he’s come to expect from her.

Before she's about to me it to the end of the page, she glances up, the slight furrow of her brow the only indication of the questions that linger in the back of her mind. "Shall I send someone to retrieve these lily soaps for your sampling, or would you prefer to dispose of them immediately?"

"Neither. Send word to the streets that they can only find lily soap in our store in the entire kingdom. Offer them a special gift if they purchase it from us. I want it to reach everyone."

"The entire city, my lord? That will be quite the undertaking."

"If that's what it takes, yes."

She gives a single, decisive nod. "As you wish."

With that, she finishes writing his instruction, rolls up the scroll, and stands, carrying the parchment to the servant waiting outside the doors, whispering instructions to be taken to his household's estate.

He knows this isn’t exactly an ideal plan, that the odds of success are slim, but it's a chance, however small, and he clings to that like a lifeline. Besides, he hasn’t survived this many years on the battlefield, faced monsters and beasts and unspeakable horrors, to lose his nerve now in the face of a soap business.

He can't find you on his own. So, the next best thing is having you come to him.

You sit among the other maids, wooden spoon idly stirring the stew in your bowl, listening to the idle conversations around you. The dining hall of the servants' quarters is loud as usual, the chatter and laughter of the staff filling the room with warmth. A few seats down, Piers and Mark argue about the proper way to clean a fireplace, gesturing wildly with their spoons as they bicker good-naturedly. On the opposite end of the table, the new maid, Nina, sits with Rebecca, listening raptly to a story about Lord Redfield's exploits during a hunting trip.

There's a comfort to it—the familiarity, the routine. After spending years surrounded by the hushed, reverent air of the temple, the chaotic camaraderie of the kitchen staff is almost exhilarating. You sigh, reaching for your goblet as you lean back in your seat, content to listen to the various conversations surrounding you.

"Guess what? The Margrave isn’t marrying the Princess. How crazy is that?"

"Really? Why not," Mark interjects, equally bewildered. "Who wouldn't want to marry a princess?"

Piers shrugs, shoveling a large spoonful of stew into his mouth and continuing. "I guess he wants to be a bachelor."

"Over becoming king one day?"

"This is why you can't trust men to relay information," one of the maids, Angela, says, rolling her eyes. "He's already announced he's looking for a bride. They say he’s broken the hearts of more noble ladies than anyone can count. And the families! Furious, every last one."

A ripple of laughter spreads through the group, the maids delighting in the drama. The bread you’re holding crumbles between your fingers, but you barely notice.

“It's a scandal,” someone else chimes in. “The Princess was practically promised to him, wasn’t she? Now he’s insulted the royal family by turning her down. People should have expected it, he started wreaking havoc as soon as he got back to the capital. Who does he think he is?"

“He’s a war hero, that’s who. He could probably have any noblewoman in the kingdom if he wanted to. Though it seems like none of them are good enough for him.”

You push your bowl away, the food suddenly unappealing, staring down at your hands as if they hold the answers to the growing unease inside.

The Leon they speak of now—a man who breaks hearts, who defies royal expectations—is a stranger to you. But what bothers you more is the memory of him at the cathedral.

The way his eyes had darkened when he looked at the Saintess.

You hadn’t seen him like that before, his expression twisted with anger, with hatred. The shock of it had frozen you in place, and then…you ran. You ran from the cathedral, from the possibility that the man who once looked at you with kindness now only saw betrayal.

And now, sitting here, the moment drowns out the light laughter of your fellow maids. You can’t shake the feeling that the Leon who stood in the cathedral wasn’t just angry—he was looking for you.

But you’re not the Saintess anymore.

You haven’t been for some time, but he wouldn't know. He couldn’t have known that you’d been stripped of your title, that you’ve been replaced. He must’ve thought the woman he saw was you, still wearing the veil of divinity. And the way he looked at her—looked at you—wasn’t with the softness you remember. No, there was something darker, a disdain so palpable that it tore through every fond memory you had of him.

You swallow, your throat dry, as the image of him at the cathedral burns in your mind. How had it come to this? How had the boy you once knew become a man so consumed by anger, by hatred? You think of the maids' gossip—how he’s rejecting noblewomen, how he’s broken hearts without a second thought—and you can’t help but wonder what he would look like now, staring at someone he loves...

Shuddering, you push the thought aside, trying to shake it from your mind. Maybe you can talk to Lord Chris about it, ask for his guidance in making amends with Leon, or maybe—

"Hey, you okay?"

Mark's question cuts through your spiraling thoughts, and you look up to find the entire table staring at you with varying shades of concern. A flush rises to your cheeks, and you fumble for a response, tripping over your words.

"I, um— yes, I'm alright." You take a steadying breath, immediately going back to stirring your food, knuckles whitening. "It's just—I'm a bit tired. I toured nearly the whole market today but had no luck with the thing I was looking for."

You give him your best attempt at a reassuring smile, but judging by the way he tilts his head at you, he's not buying it. He stares at you for a moment longer, studying you intently, before he gives a shrug and turns away.

Not even a month passes before the report lands on his desk.

The majority of lily soap sales, it seems, have gone to one place—the Redfield estate. The testimonies from shopkeepers speak of a particular maid, one who purchased an absurd amount of the soap. They claim she spent a small fortune, fearful of another shortage. But that isn’t what stands out.

No, it’s the way they described her—mistaken for a noble the moment she entered the shop, all because of the way she carried herself. Poised. Dignified.

Leon leans back in his chair, closing his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to breathe. It’s you. It has to be. The fragments of the puzzle are slowly coming together, each piece falling into place with a clarity that tightens something in his chest.

He exhales softly, an excited, expectant grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He’ll keep playing this game, keep pulling at the threads until everything unravels. Until you’re standing right in front of him once more.

Sunlight filters through the large, arched windows of Chris Redfield's office, casting long streaks of gold across the dark mahogany floor, dappling the room in a warm, almost serene glow. Dust motes drift lazily in the beams, like memories swirling in the still air. The crackling fire in the hearth only adds to the warmth, a comforting presence in a room filled with sharp edges—of old swords hung on the walls and the faint tang of oiled leather and metal.

Leon sprawls on a chaise near the window, one leg draped over the other, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his body is a coiled spring, ready to snap into action at any moment. His dark coat hangs loosely on the back of the seat, cravat untied, a few buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the faint lines of old scars crisscrossing his chest. There’s a ruggedness to him, an edge that doesn't quite fit in with the refined waistcoat stretching taut against his broad chest. His rolled-up sleeves expose forearms marked with callouses and veins, the map of a warrior’s life etched into his skin.

"How's Claire?" Leon asks, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, watching the sunlight dance off its surface.

Chris takes a long sip before answering. “She’s well. Busy, as always. The horses are coming along better than expected. She’s hoping to have them ready for sale in a few months, especially with the new barn completed.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, taking on a more direct approach. “But I don’t think you came here to talk about my sister or the horses. What’s really going on, Leon? Why the sudden visit?”

Leon offers a tight smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can’t an old friend stop by for a drink?”

Chris snorts, his grin broad but skeptical. “Sure, if you consider bribery drinking. I see you didn't disappoint with the bottle of twenty-five-year-old cognac." His amusement fades as quickly as it came, the weight of serious matters creeping into the conversation. "Come on, we both know you have more than a friendly visit on your mind, and if it's business, you've been acting strange about it. So...?"

"You're housing the former Saintess."

Chris's glass stills halfway to his mouth, and he looks sharply at Leon as if he's suddenly grown two heads. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"Where did you hear that?"

Leon huffs, leaning back casually and propping one ankle on the opposite knee, as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. "Does it matter?"

"Considering it could be a rumor spread by palace spies? Yes."

The question makes him want to tear his hair out. "No palace spies. I did my own investigating."

"Why are you sniffing around her, Leon? If you’ve come here to cause trouble—" Chris's expression darkens, the threat evident as he blatantly starts to glare. "Leave her alone. Don't drag her into whatever scheme you're planning."

Leon bristles at that, his surprise turning to frustration as his fingers tighten around the glass. "Scheme? You think that lowly of me?"

"You come to my home, interrogate me about one of my staff, and expect me to believe it's for innocent reasons? Are you trying to play me for a fool? That won't fly."

"If you must know..." Leon pauses for a beat, letting the tension build before continuing. "I intend to marry her."

For a moment, Chris stares at Leon in stunned silence, a range of emotions flickering across his face—from disbelief to exasperation, finally settling somewhere between exhaustion and resignation. "Are you insane?"

"She deserves better than being a servant, Chris. You and I both know that," Leon shoots back, his grip on the glass tightening to the point where it feels like the whole thing might shatter. "I'm not letting the Saintess be disrespected."

"She deserves peace. That’s what I’m giving her here. She’s living a life of anonymity, away from politics, away from the court. She’s finally free, Leon. You think dragging her back into the spotlight, back into a world that nearly destroyed her, is better?"

"It’s not better if she’s being worked like a peasant. She’s the Saintess. She doesn’t belong here, scrubbing floors and washing dishes."

Chris’s expression hardens. "She’s not the Saintess anymore. She chose this life."

"Did she?" Leon stands abruptly, unable to contain the restless energy burning inside him any longer. He paces to the large windows, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor. Outside, the gardens stretch out in a sea of green, the flowers and foliage swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze. His hands press against the cold stone windowsill, knuckles turning pale as his grip tightens. "Or did the temple abandon her, strip her of her title, and toss her into the gutter? She didn’t have a choice, Chris. She was thrown into this because they used her and discarded her when she was no longer useful."

Finally, Chris exhales, the tension in his body deflating as he slumps back into his chair, running a hand over his face. "You don’t understand what you’re asking for. You think you can just walk in here, sweep her off her feet, and everything will be fine? You’re a noble now. If you marry her, you’ll expose her to the same world that's crushing you."

The words strike a chord in Leon. He looks away, running a hand through his hair, jaw tense. You'd be thrust into a world of backstabbing and corruption, of scheming nobility and ambitious opportunists, all vying for your attention and affection—just as he is. The thought makes something twist in his stomach. By trying to give you the life you deserve, he could very well condemn you to the same fate as him. The irony isn’t lost on him.

After a moment, he meets Chris's gaze with equal intensity. "I can keep her safe."

"And marry a maid instead of a princess? What do you think will happen to keeping her safe once the word gets out? They'll tear into her name trying to figure out who she is and where she came from. Every detail of her life will be dissected by the public. There's no going back after that, Leon."

"I've already purchased a title for her. Daughter of an inconsequential Baron in the countryside, far away from court intrigue. I won't hurt her, I swear to you, I won't—"

"What are you going to do if she doesn’t want that? What if she’s content with the life she has now?"

Leon’s breath catches, his chest constricting painfully as the question slams into him with the force of a blow. His mind whirls, memories of you—laughing, serene, unreachable—colliding with the possible image of you now, hands roughened from labor, back bent in servitude.

Leon’s jaw clenches, his hand curling into a fist at his side. He’s never liked being questioned like this, least of all by someone who doesn’t understand the weight of what he feels. It’s not about control or power, it’s about making sure you’re safe. Protected. Cherished. You deserve more than the drudgery of a servant’s life, more than the anonymity of living in the shadows.

“Content isn't enough,” he snaps, sharper than intended. He looks out the window again, following the path the maid and gardener take as they disappear around the corner of the estate. The thought of you, hidden away, your light dimmed by the mundanity of daily life—it's unbearable. “I want her to be happy.”

“Not everyone wants the life we have. Hell, I barely want it sometimes.”

Leon stays silent for a moment, his mind racing. He’s known Chris for years, fought beside him, trusted him with his life on countless battlefields. And yet, at this moment, it feels as though Chris doesn’t understand him at all. How can he not see that you deserve better? That you deserve more than what this world has handed you?

“I can protect her,” Leon repeats, though the words feel hollow now, like he’s trying to convince himself more than Chris. He turns away from the window.

Chris exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, the lines of stress deepening around his eyes.

Leon’s throat tightens, frustration and something deeper clawing at his chest. He knows Chris is right. He knows it. But that doesn’t make it any easier. He wants to protect you, to shelter you from the harshness of the world, to wrap you in the safety and comfort that he can provide. But what if that’s not what you want? What if you’ve already found peace in the simple life you’ve built for yourself here?

Silence stretches between them, uncertainty flooding the room like a heavy mist. For a while, neither speaks, the only sounds are the faint rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds outside. He watches another maid rush to the gardens down below, idling, starting to tend to it, and his mind wanders, consumed by the possibility of what might be. Of you, warm and smiling, dressed in luxurious gowns, wearing jewelry, no longer burdened with hard labor.

"I know you feel for her," Chris states, breaking the silence.

"Of course, I feel for her! She's the Saintess, Chris. She's—" Leon pauses midway through his outburst, catching the glint in his friend's eye and stopping short. He runs a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. "I've sworn loyalty to her. That isn't going to change."

"So, marriage, all for the sake of her station. What if she wants to marry for love? Did you think about that?"

No.

Leon didn't think about that at all.

His brows furrow, his knuckles white as he grips the windowsill, the confession sinking into him with a force. Had he not taken a vow to Ethelion during his first visit to the cathedral, just to protect the Saintess? Then he'll honor it, he's decided, and it isn't only because he's loyal to his word. There's an unmistakable desire inside him, one he doesn't quite know how to quantify, a selfish, possessive urge that wants to wrap you in silk and diamonds and lace and never let you go. He'd marry you to keep you protected and by his side. He would wed you out of devotion to his duty and to you. He would lay his heart at your feet, offer himself, kneel before you, worship you—if he could.

His heart aches at the thought of you being taken away by some faceless somebody who doesn't deserve you. No, the mere idea of it sets every nerve in his body on fire, a deep, unsettled rage stirring in his gut. Who could ever be worthy of something sacred and untouchable as your love?

The imagination cuts him deeper than any knife could, his ribcage can't expand as if a chestplate way too small for him was forcibly wrapped around his torso. The thought is enough to draw a pained noise out of him, a sound more animal than human, a feral, primal part of himself roaring at the notion. He shakes his head as if to clear the vision from his mind, swallows thickly as he stares blankly out of the window, unable to meet the man's gaze. Beneath his boots, the floor feels unsteady, and for a second, he thinks he might topple over, sink to the ground. Instead, he presses his palms against the stone wall beside the window, anchoring himself to something solid.

The truth is that he's in a position to make a difference in your life, to provide security and happiness beyond your wildest dreams. And Leon would use all that he has for you. Everything he owns, all that he possesses—it's all yours, if only you would accept it.

He ends up saying, "She deserves respect. I can give her that," while focusing on the two workers down in the garden to gain back his footing.

Interrupting the conversation is the door creaking open, and the maids enter, carrying trays of refreshments. The soft clink of glass against polished silver fills the space as they move about, placing items on the low table before the fire. Leon remains by the window, facing the crisp autumn air head blowing in from the open windows on, his silhouette bathed in golden sunlight, hands clasped behind his back, his posture taut.

He hears Chris mutter something, dismissing the maids, but one set of footsteps lingers. A single presence. And Leon knows those gentle, deliberate footsteps like the back of his own hand. He stiffens, arms loosening to hang by his sides like a soldier coming to attention, his throat going dry. He doesn't turn, not yet, unwilling or perhaps unable to face what he feels coming.

“Here she is," Chris says with a quiet finality. "You wanted to speak to her, didn't you? Talk then. I'll be right outside. Don't take too long."

With that, he pushes up from the armchair, taking one of the glasses with him and heading towards the door. The door clicks shut behind Chris, the sound of it like the final toll of a bell, sealing his fate. And for a moment, there's nothing, no movement, no words. Just silence.

For a heartbeat, all Leon can do is stand frozen, the world narrowing to that small room, the soft breath of the person standing just a few steps behind him. Your perfume—lilies and a hint of freshly washed linen—drifts towards him, washing over him in an alluring, almost numbing wave. In this instant, it feels as if all the time and distance he's crossed to find you has brought him back to the cathedral, when you were still the Saintess, veiled and untouchable. You seem to surround him, overwhelming his senses, making the past few years vanish, as if he's walked right into a waking dream.

You shift, and he can sense the slightest movement, like an electrical current beneath his skin, drawing his attention and heightening his awareness of your proximity. He turns slowly, the motion almost hesitant, breath catching as he takes in the figure standing near the exit of the room, framed by the shadows close to the walls.

You're not the same as he remembers. You don't wear flowing robes of pristine white or a veil that obscures your features, standing there, awkward and still, a tray balanced delicately in your hands. The clothing doesn't even resemble the uniform of a saintess—or what the servant garb should look like at the estate. Yet, somehow, in this instance, seeing you dressed like this, a demure maid, hits him with a sense of injustice that tears at his heart.

When your gazes collide, he doesn't know where to look. His gaze darts briefly to the floor, to the mahogany paneling, to anywhere that isn’t your face. The vulnerability that grips him is unfamiliar, unsettling, and it leaves him feeling unmoored, as though the ground beneath his feet might give way at any moment.

When he finally musters the courage to look back up and take in your features with all of his heart without being ashamed by it and feeling like he might go blind like he's looking directly at the sun, it’s in time to catch your wide-eyed stare. You’re just as stunned as he is—perhaps more so—as if you've seen a ghost. And then the tray falls from your hands with a clatter, sending the wine splashing across the expensive rug, a red river swirling with gold.

"Oh, I'm—I apologize!" You flinch back, crouching down hastily to gather the tray with trembling hands. You grab at the cloth napkin and dab at the carpet frantically, desperately trying to mop up the spill.

His body reacts faster than his mind does, and he closes the distance in two long strides, falling to his knees in front of you. His hands cup yours, fingers curling gently around yours. You jolt in surprise, shoulders tensing, but don’t pull away.

"It's alright." His voice is hoarse, thick with emotion. He glances at you and sees your brow creasing as you hold his gaze, your eyes bright with unshed tears. "Please."

There's a sudden prickling pressure at the backs of his nose, the threat of tears threatening to break through, and he drops his head, inhaling a steadying breath. Goddamnit. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the swell of emotion to subside.

Your response is softer than the rustle of pages in a book, almost a whisper, barely audible in the silence of the room. "Sir Leon...?"

The sound of his name is both a caress and a dagger, digging into the tender parts of him that have been raw and exposed.

"Saintess." The word slips out on a ragged breath before he can stop it, an involuntary confession. "I've returned to you."

The warmth of your fingers pressing against his startles him the moment you move, and he becomes aware of what he's been doing -- touching you so carelessly. The newfound title and fame couldn't have gotten to his head so badly that he would forget himself now, could it? Leon can't be sure whether he'd really been the type to behave like a reckless fool all along or if his meeting with you just now and seeing your form for the first time after years had broken down the little that remained of the disciplined man.

Heat climbs his throat and settles in his ears—you're not someone who he can put his hands on. Not even a stranger at this point, to him. In the back of his mind, the young boy with the sickly body remembers that he was touched by you, as a child, the day you healed him, the sensation still vivid, even after so many years.

Leon withdraws, shifting to a kneeling position as he clasps his hands together on his thighs. He tilts his chin upward to find you still crouched in the same position as well, with the wet napkin clenched tightly in your hands, holding your gaze fixed on him. Your intense focus, the way you're studying every line of his face, drinking in his appearance—it makes Leon swallow harshly, hoping his cheeks wouldn't color under your unabashed scrutiny.

"You..." You trail off, lowering your gaze to the floor as you fix your bonnet, as if unsure you should give shape to the words. "I'm no longer the Saintess. The temple has appointed another."

Something twists in his chest, a dark, twisting ache that's become all too familiar as of late. "You think I don't know that?" He means to sound understanding, patient, but instead, his words come out biting, edged with frustration. He deflates when you blink rapidly at him, startled at the change in his demeanor. "I'm sorry," he breathes, offering a shaky smile, "it's just... it was just a lot to take in."

It's a hell of an understatement, but it seems to satisfy you, at least enough to relax a fraction. Still, he watches as your shoulders rise and fall in a shuddering motion, a soft intake of air escaping you.

"We shouldn't be sitting on the floor."

"Ah, yes!" He scrambles to his feet, extending a hand to help you to yours.

When his fingers brush the back of your palm, he feels that same shock, the hairs on his arm standing on end, like an electrical charge, and it takes all his willpower not to snatch his hand away. Instead, he curls his fingers tighter around you, a reflex, and pulls you to your feet. He keeps you steady as you straighten, your bodies close enough that he swears he can feel the heat radiating off yours, warming him better than the fireplace ever could.

He shouldn't.

He really...

"You've changed."

At the sound of your voice, Leon blinks, returning to the present. It takes him a moment to realize he'd been staring. "What, no 'welcome home'?" The attempt at levity dies on his lips when he sees your expression—earnest, searching—and he swallows hard, forcing a tight smile. "Sorry. Impertinent now, aren't I?"

"No—"

"Come," he gestures towards the couch, "sit with me for a bit. It's been... a long time, hasn't it?"

You hesitate for a beat, uncertainty flashing across your features before you nod slowly, allowing him to lead you to the chaise by the hearth, the same seat Leon vacated.

As you settle, his eyes sweep over you, noting your appearance in excruciating detail. A faded grey dress, loose and modest, the neckline high and unfashionable. Lace cuffs, fraying at the edges. Thick wool stockings visible from the ankles, probably borrowed and a size too big, peeking out from under the hem of your skirt. Hems threadbare. Even now, you make it look lovely. Elegant. He wants to get on his knees.

He clears his throat, pulling his thoughts back to the present. "I wanted to—"

"How did you—"

Your words stumble over each other in a rush, and you stop short, caught halfway through your sentence.

He holds his tongue, waiting for you to finish.

"I'm sorry, please, continue," you bow your head apologetically, embarrassment in the flutter of your lashes.

"No, no, it's okay. Please," he motions for you to speak.

You press your palms flat against your lap, smoothing out your wrinkled skirts, trying to buy yourself a few seconds. "Why, I wondered... why you came to see me. After all these years, after everything?"

Why.

Now that was a loaded question.

"Because I swore a vow, didn't I?" He offers a small grin, but it wavers as he tries to explain. "I mean. To—"

"Are you perhaps here to call me to account for my failure, as a servant of Ethelion?" You ask, shaking, almost on the verge of tears. "For failing all my paladins when I should have protected you?"

You duck your head again, hiding behind the brim of your bonnet. Your gaze dips to the floor, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of your skirts. But not before he catches a glimpse of the haunted expression, the torment and regret clear in the line of your mouth, pulled tight with emotion.

Leon slips off of the chaise all too easily, kneeling on the ground before you, his body moving of its own accord, as if drawn in by an irresistible force. He's so close that if he were to try looking down, he could just... rest his forehead on your knees, lean against your legs for support.

"What are you doing?" You start, half rising from your seat as if you're about to bolt, shocked at his boldness, but sit back down when you can't go anywhere with him as a barrier. “Sir Leon! Stop it, you can't—"

But he doesn't. He stays right there, unmoving, not daring to push boundaries. "You never failed anyone," he says earnestly, speaking with a clarity that catches you by surprise. "Not our cause, not me, not any paladin. It wasn't you who sent us to battle, it was those who served the gods, and they... They ordered their own people into a fight for their own glory."

He pauses, glancing up at your teary eyes, the disbelief, and he knows that you won't believe him, that the guilt will cling to you for days or weeks after today. If he's being honest with himself, the grief of losing his comrades may never fully go away, but—you haven't abandoned them. He will make damn sure you never consider yourself complicit in what happened, for as long as he lives.

Your lips quiver, and you tilt your head away from him, as though wanting to shield your face from view. He hates that he can't do anything to assuage your pain, to shoulder some of the burden you're carrying, but he's equally fascinated by this side of you, hidden and vulnerable, that he rarely saw when you were a saintess. He's grateful, too, that you're trusting him enough to see you like this.

You waver, thin and unsteady, as you respond, "And now what do you need? I'm no longer a Saintess who can bless your endeavors. I can’t give you anything."

The way you say it…

The words feel clumsy on his tongue at what you just said, inadequate compared to the burning intensity of what he truly wishes to convey. There’s too much to be said. That he’d never want anything out of you, that he wouldn’t stand you talking about yourself like something to be exploited, that he hates the way you see yourself…

It's tempting, so tempting, to just reach out. To slide his hand between yours, interlacing your fingers like lovers might. To curl his arm around your waist and draw you closer, to pull your smaller frame into him. It would be easy, so easy. But it would also be improper, disrespectful, wrong. And besides, despite what some might think, he knows how to restrain himself. He doesn't allow his hands to follow through with these baseless impulses.

Instead, he sits back on his heels like a dog, folding his hands in front of him. His posture is stiff and formal, mirroring your own, but his heart hammers wildly in his chest, betraying the calm façade he's attempting to maintain.

"I know you're no longer Saintess," he begins carefully. Your breath catches audibly at the title, and he hurriedly continues, "But I swore an oath to you, nonetheless, and I intend to honor it. You're my Saintess. Always will be."

Silence stretches between you, and he averts his gaze, focusing intently on the swell of your knees, afraid that if he looks at you, he'll break. "It's my duty to protect you, if you'll let me. I—" His words falter, caught in his throat as he struggles to speak past the sudden tightness there, "I swear upon Ethelion, I'll never leave your side. No matter what."

The room falls quiet again, save for the crackling of the logs in the fireplace, the soft hiss and pop as the wood splits apart, consuming itself. Outside, the sounds of birds singing in the breeze drift in, mingling with the rustle of leaves in the wind, distant conversations floating upwards from the grounds below. He counts the heartbeats pounding against his ribcage, three... four... five...

"Leon, what..?"

"Please marry me."

The words slip out, almost involuntarily, as though they'd been perched on the tip of his tongue, waiting for an opening to leap free. The silence grows, stretching taut between you, until he can't stand it any longer.

You draw a breath, and he raises his head. There's no mistaking it now — your eyes widen, and your shoulders tense as you sink back into the cushions of the couch. For a split second, the surprise gives way to something approaching fear, and a surge of panic wells up inside him at the sight.

This isn't what he intended — or, rather, not quite. He meant to ease you into the idea, to present his offer gently and smoothly, the proposal rehearsed in his mind countless times before. But his usual composure and decorum have abandoned him today, and now his mouth is running far ahead of his mind.

"Wh...Why?"

Of all the possible responses you could give, that is perhaps the most unexpected one. He stares at you dumbly, utterly thrown, fumbling for an answer. "I would cherish your hand in mine," he answers after a beat, trying to salvage his words, "I would treasure you, more than anyone ever could."

"But why?"

Leon's frustration bubbles to the surface. “This—” he gestures to the simple dress you wear, the apron tied around your waist, the calluses that have begun to form on your hands from hours of labor. “This is beneath you. Bowing down to others, doing their bidding… this isn’t what you’re meant for.”

Something flares behind your eyes—hurt? Anger? Indignation?

Before he can analyze your reaction too deeply, you ask again, more forcefully this time, “Why do you think it’s beneath me? Just because I don’t hold a sword like you or a blessing scepter in my hand doesn’t mean what I do is any less important—"

"It's not like that!" Leon interjects.

"—You think I should be wasting away as an ornament somewhere, is that what I am to you—"

"That's not what I meant! I meant I'd want to provide for you and protect you, and—"

"From what?! What is there to protect me from here?"

He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing the neatly coiffed locks and lets out an aggravated huff. "They don’t deserve you. The people here… they don’t deserve your labor, your effort. You should be served, not serving others.”

He must have said the wrong thing, your brows knit together as you frown, clearly displeased by his statement. Something in the twist of your lips sends a tremor through him, the way the set of your jaw is so determined, so stubborn, even against his arguments. This is the first time he's seeing fire from you instead of light, a display of character beyond the serene saintess façade you had to carry during the days at the cathedral. It makes heat pool in the pit of his belly, something heavy settling in his lungs and he's suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"Then what am I supposed to do? Sit around doing nothing because—because you still see me as someone divine?" You shake your head, adamant in the words you utter. "I have purpose here! The Redfields have been kind to me, they took me in—"

"But you serve. You still serve."

Your words seem to die at what he says at the very end. Still serve. "I beg your pardon?"

"You bled every single day. Serving in the temple, serving the masses, serving others with a smile on your face, to the point of losing yourself. Used yourself, your strength, your grace, gave up your sleep and food and even your freedom. Your dignity, as the temple tried to mold you to suit whatever they wanted. That's all you knew for years and then just dropped into the world to figure things out by yourself, and went back to what you know best once more. Serve. This time, under a different name. A Saintess. A servant. It's not all that different, you know. And maybe you don't know how else to live. But I'm here to change that for you. To give you a choice."

Something wounded takes over you, like an injured animal struck by surprise before it bolts. A deep chill settles in him at how lost you look, how frightened and unsure, so unguarded and unprepared for him. He doesn't even know if this conversation is making you feel worse or better; maybe his intentions are clearer now, or more nefarious. It hurts either way, but Leon doesn't back down, doesn't look away from you.

The tears begin to fall without warning, trailing hot and wet down your cheeks. Leon's face crumples at the sight, shame washing over him at causing you distress. He reaches up instinctively, wanting to brush them away, but his fingers only graze your skin for a second before you flinch back and turn, covering your face with a hand as you forcibly stand up from the couch and move away from him.

He lets you go, a pang shooting through him as you cross the room. But when you reach the door, your steps hesitate, and his pulse stutters when you glance over your shoulder at him one last time.

"All I ask of you is to think about it," he pleads, not able to hide the note of misery in his voice as he leans toward your direction, hands placed on where you were just resting, fingers sinking into the cushions, "please."

Your lips part as if you're going to say something. You almost speak, almost giving way to your thoughts. Then you shut your mouth and dart forward, yanking the doors open and fleeing the room.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #leon x reader

101 notes · View notes

aemondapologistfrfr · 5 hours

Text

Book Club

modern!aemond x fem!reader

Summary: A man comes into your book store and you both exchange book recommendations. This turns into you both having discussions about your thoughts and theories and feelings begin to blossom.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, oral(f), p in v, unprotected

Authors Note: i literally have to restrain myself from writing for this man bc im actually rabid :)

Word Count: 6.6k oops

ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

I groan resting against the counter watching all of the people walk past my shop. This is the slowest time of day so I resort to curling up in the chair near the windows and pulling out my current read. The soft music through the speakers helps set the mood and soon I’m immersed into my book. I look up when the bell on the door rings.

“Hi, welcome in.” I close my book and rise from the chair. “Is there anything I can help you with?” I offer him a smile as my eyes meet his.

“No, thank you.” his voice soft as he brushes past me.

“Let me know if that changes.” I call after him as he delves deeper into the store. I bring my book to the counter and begin to read. I lean over the counter as I get to a particularly tense part and let the store drift away. I gasp at the sentence I just read and shove my bookmark into the pages and shut the book.

“That’s how you can tell it’s a good book.” I jump at the man’s words.

“I’m sorry.” I look up to him with flushed cheeks. “You could’ve said something.” I move the book off the side.

“I knew what part you were at and it’s best left uninterrupted.” he offers me a smile that softens his sharp features.

“You’ve read this one?” I beam. “This is the first book I’ve read by this author and I’m thoroughly enjoying it.” he places his books on the counter.

“I can recommend some others too. If you want.” he offers and I nod my head. I get out a pen and paper and slide them over to him. I watch as he scribbles out a couple titles and pushes it back to me. I pull out another sheet and write some of my own recommendations.

“If you want them. You don’t have to but I thought I’d give you some recommendations as well.” I nibble my lip and he folds the paper and places it in his pocket.

“Thank you.” he offers me another smile that turns him into every male fantasy I’ve ever had.

“Did you find everything alright?” I hum as I start to ring up his books trying to avoid staring at him for too long.

“I did. It’s a lovely shop.” he nods to me as his eye scans me over.

“Thank you. I try to keep it warm and welcoming.” I place his books in a bag and offer it to him.

“Is it yours?” he offers me cash.

“It is.” I smile typing into the register.

“Then I will see you here when I need another book.” he hums taking the change from my hand.

“I can’t wait to hear what you think of the books.” I smile to him before pulling my book back out.

“Likewise.” he nods before dipping out the door and leaving me to my book once more.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

I shake my head shutting my book and slamming it on the table. That was simultaneously one of the best and worst endings to a book I’ve ever read. I look through my aisles searching for the next book on the list when I hear the bell on the door jingle.

“Hi, welcome in how-“ I stop when I see it’s him. “Gods I just finished the first book you recommended. The ending was just..” I trail off shaking my head.

“I didn’t think you would actually read them.” he squints his eye with a hint of a smile.

“I was just looking for the second book on the list.” I smile up at him as I start to walk back to the aisles. I turn and see that he’s following behind me with a smile as we stop and look for the title.

“I can borrow you mine. Although I guess you do own a bookstore..” he trails off pulling the book down from the top shelf. “Here.” he offers it to me.

“You can bring me the third one on here.” I pull the list out of my pocket. “I can bring you one of mine. If you want.” I flip through the pages of the book I’m holding.

“I would like that. When do you want me to bring it?” his smile brightens up his whole face.

“I’ll probably be done with this before the end of the week.” I look at the page numbers and nod my head.

“Then I’ll come on Friday?” he tilts his head.

“That’s perfect.” I smile. “If you have time can I make you coffee or tea and we could discuss the book I just finished? I’m dying to talk about it.” I nibble my lip studying him.

“I would like that.” he hums. “Tea would be nice.” I wave him over to the chairs as I begin to prepare his drink. I steal glances at his perfectly groomed long silver hair and internally sigh at how beautiful he is.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your day.” I turn back to him and he shakes his head.

“I had no plans besides coming here.” his words make me feel like less of a burden. I bring him his tea and I sit with my cup and we start talking. We talk for well over an hour and our cups are soon forgotten and turn cold. “I’m really glad you enjoyed it.” he rests his head in his hand watching me talk.

“I’ll stop and let you get back to your day.” I stretch my legs out from the chair.

“Point me in the direction of the first book on the list you gave me.” he prompts me and I stand with a smile.

“Of course, this way.” I nod for him to follow. I stop at a shelf and I pull the book down. I hold it against my chest and turn to look up at him. I see his knowing smile and sigh.

“And what kind of romance book will this be?” he holds his hand out and I feel my cheeks heat.

“A good one.” I purse my lips flaring my nostrils.

“I’ll decide that.” he chuckles grabbing the book from my hands.

“It’s not just a romance book. Just give it a try.” I pout before brushing past him. “I’ll be up front when you’re ready or if you need any other help.”

“Can you find me the other two on your list?” I stop in my tracks at his words.

“But I was gunna bring you them?” I scrunch my eyebrows turning to him.

“You’ve already read two of mine so I need to catch up. At least let me buy the second one too.” he smiles. “I want to be able to talk about them on Friday.” a smile spreads across my face at his words. I lead him down a couple of aisles and pull a book from the shelf.

“I really enjoyed reading this one and I can’t wait to hear what you think about it.” I admire the cover and hand it to him.

“I’ll come with all of my thoughts and theories.” he hums and follows me back to the register. “When and where do you want me to meet you?” he places the books on the counter.

“Here at like seven?” I ring in his books and look to him.

“I’ll be here.” he nods his head. “I never got your name.” he hands me cash and I realize I haven’t gotten his name either.

“Y/n.” I place his change in his hand.

“Aemond.” he smiles grabbing his books from the counter.

“I hope you enjoy the books, Aemond.” he looks at me with a soft smile.

“I’ll see you Friday, Y/n.” he nods his head and slips out the door.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

I quickly walk around the store cleaning up after close and start to brew some tea. I don’t know if I should’ve brought something more or if this is enough. I sigh shaking my head and sit in the chair to wait for Aemond to arrive. I stand up with a smile spread across my face when he walks through the door.

“Aemond.” I beam and usher him inside before I shut and lock the door behind him. I can’t help but look over him and admire him as he strides into the store.

“Locking us in?” he turns and raises an eyebrow at me.

“Well the stores closed and I don’t want us to be interrupted.” I walk over to the table and begin to make him a cup of tea. I bring it over to him with a smile that he’s already sitting and comfortable with the books in his lap. “It’s like we’re having a little book club.” I coo placing the cup in his hands and see his cheeks redden.

“How was your week?” he hums before taking a sip.

“I had another great book to get me through.” I curl up in the chair across from him.

“You liked it?” his eye lights up as I nod to him.

“It was perfect. I think I liked this one more than the last.” I settle back into the chair and study him.

“What was your favorite part?” he watches me talk about the book for the next thirty minutes with a soft smile on his face. He asks me questions, content to listen to me talk about the book. We discuss theories and I decide I could sit in this chair and listen to his soft voice for hours.

“Do you want more tea before we start with your books?” I start to uncurl from the chair.

“Let me.” he hums getting up and grabbing my cup from my hands.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him as I settle back. He brings me my cup filled and steaming with tea. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring more. Like food or other drinks.” I nibble my lip allowing my hands to hug the warmth from the mug.

“Your company is enough.” my eyes look to his as a blush creeps up my neck.

“Tell me what you thought of the first one.” I offer him a shy smile.

“It wasn’t just a romance, you were right.” he talks about the book with a smile and I watch him talk. His features are relaxed as he talks and I can’t help but admire him. I sip on my tea and nod my head at his words.

“You’re very thoughtful.” he studies me with a curious expression.

“I really did like the second one too.” he picks up the book. “Different than what I expected.” he pats the book on his lap. We go back and forth about the characters and what we think their true motives were. We watch each other in silence for seconds or minutes before he hands me the other book in his lap.

“Here’s mine.” I stretch across handing him mine.

“I’ll treat it with care.” he hums adding it to his pile.

“I really enjoyed my night.” I smile watching him run his fingers down the spine of the book.

“I did too. When do you want to meet again? If you want to, of course.” his eye looks away from me.

“I would love that.” I respond quickly nodding my head. “We can meet here again if you want. I can bring us actual food and drinks.” I tilt my head.

“Or you could come to mine and I could cook for us.” he offers and I chuckle. “Hm?” he smiles at me.

“Of course you cook.” I look up shaking my head.

“Is that a bad thing?” he scrunches his brows.

“No, you’re just perfect.” I sigh and he chuckles.

“I’m not.” he shakes his head.

“From what I know, you are.” I hold his book in my lap. “I would enjoy it if you cooked me dinner while we talked about books.” I nibble on my lip.

“Tell me when.” he leans back looking me over.

“I could have this finished in three days.” I size up the book.

“So Monday?” I nod. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Around seven again? Unless that’s too late?” I start to stretch out my legs.

“I’ll be here at seven.” he smiles standing up. “Have a good weekend, Y/n.” he starts to walk to the door.

“Enjoy the book, Aem.” I call after him and he pauses at the door. I get worried about the nickname I gave him until I see his shoulders relax and he turns back to me and offers me a smile before leaving.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

“You’re early.” I look up when I see Aemond enter. My tongue darts across my lips as I take him in and he offers me a smirk as I come to the counter.

“I can wait.” he hums placing his ring clad fingers on the marble.

“I’ll be quick.” I drag my eyes up to his. I whisk through the shop making sure the aisles are clean and there’s no stray books. I make my way back to him and drink in his form leaning against the counter. His attention turns to me and my cheeks flush. I go behind the counter to grab my purse and l go to his side.

“Ready?” he looks down at me.

“I am.” I hum and he leads me out to his car. He opens the door for me and I slip in and wait for him to get behind the wheel. The drive to his house is quick. As we walk up the sidewalk I stop to take in his manicured yard that seems to have nothing out of place.

“You can come in. I won’t kill you.” my eyes find him at his words and a giggle bubbles out of me. “Or we can sit in the grass if you want, but the sprinklers might come on.”

“You’re not getting out of making me dinner that easily.” I smile coming to his side as he opens the front door for me. I look around at his subtle yet ornate decorations. “You have a beautiful home.” I hum turning to him.

“Thank you.” he smiles slipping off his jacket and I can’t help but look at the way his shirt is spread across his toned chest.

“Come.” he gestures me to follow him and we end in the kitchen. He pulls out a chair for me to sit at the counter while he goes to the other side. “Tell me about your weekend.” he requests as he starts to pull out ingredients.

“The store was busier than normal, not that I’m complaining. I’m happy more people are starting to read. Although, it did interrupt my reading time.” I sigh and he chuckles.

“How long have you owned the store?” he hums turning on the stovetop.

“A couple years. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” I get lost in thought about everything it took for me to get here.

“That’s impressive. You should be proud.” he smiles to me and my cheeks tint.

“Thank you.” I watch him begin to chop something. “What about you? What do you do for work?” I rest my head in my hands watching him.

“I work with my family.” his response short as he starts on another task.

“Do you like it?” I try to pry a little more.

“Yes and no.” he shrugs. “It’s been more tolerable since I’ve gotten my own place.” he drops the ingredients in a pan and I hear it sizzle.

“Families can be interesting.” I nod and he chuckles.

“To say the least.” he shakes his head before turning to me. “Do you have a big family?” he tilts his head.

“No, it’s just me. I just couldn’t- I moved away.” I shake my head meeting his eye.

“I was going to raise my glass to you but I just realized I’m a terrible host and haven’t offered you anything.” his eye widens and I chuckle.

“It’s okay, Aemond.” I smile. “I’d be happy to die of thirst in your kitchen.” his eye snaps to mine as a smile spreads across his face.

“Tea?” he tilts his head.

“I can make it. You’re cooking.” I slide off the stool and spot his electric kettle. I start to fill the kettle and place it back on waiting for it to boil.

“I have a lot of options.” he opens the cabinet above me.

“Are you running a cafe?” I chuckle looking over the different flavors.

“I could be.” his tone playful.

“Mm and what are the hours?” I reach for a couple packets.

“I’ll be open whenever you want me to be.” I turn to him at his words.

“How generous. Always wanting to satisfy your customers.” we smile at each other before going back to our tasks. I bring him a cup and take mine back to the other side of the counter. He begins to finish this meal and plates it.

“Go to the dining room.” he nods his head to the softly lit room.

“I can help bring things out.” I stand there looking up at him.

“Go take a seat.” he hums gently turning me and scooting me in the direction of the table. I take a seat and watch as he brings in plates and silverware. I offer him thanks every time he sets something in front of me and he hums in response. Once everything is placed he takes a seat across from me and looks at me expectantly.

“Tell me how it tastes.” he nods.

“It looks exquisite.” I say softly before cutting into the food. The second the flavors spread across my tongue I sigh and take another bite. “Aemond,” I moan. “This is amazing.” I look up to him and see his red cheeks.

“Thank you.” his blush deepens and I smile biting my lip. “What’s so funny?” he raises an eyebrow.

“You look so cute when you blush.” my voice soft as the bold words fall from my mouth.

“Cute?” he raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think anyone’s called me cute before.” he shakes his head before beginning to eat.

“I could call you a lot of things.” I scold my tongue for speaking.

“Is that so?” he sets down his fork and looks to me with an amused expression.

“Yeah, but cute is enough for today.” I sip on my tea watching him try to hide his smile.

“What did you think of my last book?” he watches me think. I start to talk about it in between bites and he makes points I didn’t even think about. We continue to talk as we bring our plates to the kitchen and he starts to clean them immediately. Much to his distress I help him with the dishes. “You don’t have to.”

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.” I hum drying off another dish. Once they’re done he’s leading me deeper into his house and my heart starts to beat faster. My breath catches as he walks us into his library. “This is a dream.” I look around at all of the shelves.

“You own a bookstore.” he chuckles from behind me.

“Yeah but these are all yours.” I walk to the closest shelf and look at some of the titles. As I continue about the room I can feel him following me and I stop on an empty shelf that has my three books on it. “I feel like my recommendations are out of place here.” I turn to him and my face almost smashes into his chest. I crane my head up to look at him.

“No, they belong here.” he hums reaching out to brush some of my hair back. I lean into his hand before turning back around and grabbing the last book he read.

“What did you think about this one?” I turn looking back up at him.

“Come.” he leads me to the couch and grabs the book from my hands looking over it. “This was more of a romance. I don’t even know if we could call it that.” he chuckles.

“What would you call it then?” I pout.

“Erotica.” I roll my eyes at him. “What was the main plot then?” he bites his lip to hide his smile looking down at me.

“It was like a fated love story.” my voice soft as I feel my cheeks heat.

“An excuse for them to fuck for half of the book.” his tone playful.

“So you didn’t like the book?” I nibble my lip.

“I did. It was just different from what I normally read.” he hums handing me the book.

“You don’t want to keep it? Will it sully your shelves?” my eyes alight as I look up at him.

“I think it’d be more of a bedside table book.” his voice low.

“Did you read this before bed?” I raise my eyebrow at him.

“I couldn’t read it at work.” his tongue snakes across his lower lip.

“I did.” my voice barely audible.

“That’s because your cheeks will just get red. It’d be a little more obvious for me.” his eye darkens and I groan internally.

“Here I was thinking that was tame.” I keep my voice soft and he laughs.

“Tame?” he raises an eyebrow. “Now you have to give me the dirtiest book you have.” he smirks at me.

“I can bring it to the shop tomorrow.” my tone alluring. “But I want your dirtiest book.” I look around the room positive he has to have at least one.

“In the books I read it’s more like love making.” he smiles as my cheeks heat and I decide I won’t be the only one tormented.

“You don’t like to fuck?” I look up at him through my lashes and his nostrils flare.

“I like a lot of things.” he looks me over and I squirm under his gaze. “Let’s go find your next fantasy.” he teases rising from the couch.

“Aem,” I whine before dragging myself off the couch.

“Hm?” he hums as I trail behind him. He stops at a couple books before shaking his head and keeps us moving. He stops at a shelf and pulls a book down and nods. He turns to me with a smirk and hands it to me. “There’s a plot and romance.” he places the book in my hands. “And the fucking that you like.” I gasp at his words and he tosses his head back and laughs.

“Shall I tell you if it becomes my new nightly fantasy?” it’s his turn for his breath to catch.

“I’ll do the same for you with the book you give me tomorrow.” he hums.

“The book I give you will be strictly for bed time. I couldn’t even read it at work.” I bite my lip and his eye catches the movement.

“Is that so?” he purrs.

“That book gave me my favorite nightly fantasy since you’re so interested in it.” I notice how close our bodies have gotten and I step back an inch.

“Now I have to read it.” he chuckles lowly. We tease each other for a couple more minutes before he begins to drive me back to my shop. He parks next to my car and we linger in his car, neither one of us ready to leave.

“Can I have your number?” his words soft and I turn to him pulling my phone out.

“Of course.” I hand him my phone and he hands me his. We exchange numbers and continue to talk and stare at each other for a couple minutes before we part ways for the night.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Aem: Is it a good time for me to come and get the book?

Y/n: Of course. 😌

Aem: I’ll see you soon.

Aem: This book is crazy, Y/n.

Y/n: Why? 🫣

Aem: You know why.

Aem: Do you want tea?

Y/n: I’m at work.

Aem: Yeah, I’ll bring it to you.

Y/n: I would love that. 🥰

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

“You are so so sweet.” I coo grabbing the cup from Aemonds hands.

“How are you liking the book I recommended.” he nods to it on the counter.

“I actually adore it.” I nod my head with a smile. “Did you see the author is coming out with a second?” I look up to him.

“We can read it together.” he smiles sipping on his tea.

“So what made you want to stop by?” I hum.

“To see you in a different light after almost finishing the book you gave me.” he chuckles shaking his head. “I can’t even tell what your fantasy is, there’s so much in every chapter.” his eye slowly looks me over as my cheeks heat.

“We can try it all.” I look up at him through my lashes and he dips down with a dark eye. Right when he opens his mouth to speak the bell on the door rings. “Hi, welcome in.” I lean back and poke my head to the side to greet the customer who trails down the first aisle.

“What did you mean?” his voice low.

“Hm?” I smile up at him.

“What did you mean, Y/n?” I pull his book back in front of me.

“About us trying it?” I tilt my head with a smirk.

“You said all.” he corrects.

“It might take us a while.” my body heats at the thought as I lean closer to him.

“I planned to take my time with you.” a whimper falls from my mouth at his words. “Would you like that?” he caresses my cheek.

“Please.” I look up at him leaning into his hand.

“When will you be done with your book?” I don’t even process his words as he trails his fingers down my jaw. He tilts my chin up and looks at me waiting.

“Aem,” his name falls from my lips breathlessly. I look at his mouth and he chuckles.

“I asked you a question.” he hums tilting my chin further up so I have to look at his eye.

“Tonight.” my tongue slides across my bottom lip.

“Dinner at mine tomorrow?” he tilts his head.

“I would like that.” I sigh as he removes his hand.

“Text me when you finish the book and we’ll make plans from there.” he hums and slips out of my shop.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Y/n: I finished.

Y/n: I’m excited for the second one.

Aem: I’m glad you liked it.

Y/n: Did you finish mine yet?

Aem: Just under 100 pages.

Y/n: Do you like it?

Aem: It’s been.. interesting.

Y/n: Interesting because you like it so much? 🤭

Aem: I didn’t say that.

Y/n: It seemed like it earlier. When you just had to come see me.

Aem: I wasn’t the one whimpering on the counter.

Y/n: Let’s make it your kitchen counter next.

Aem: I’ll see you tomorrow.

Y/n: I’m sure I’ll be the star in your dreams tonight.

Aem: What makes you think you haven’t been?

Y/n: Have I been? 👀

Aem: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven again.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

I’m finishing cleaning up the aisles when the bell to my shop rings. I turn and see Aemond slip in and I continue to clean quicker than before. I dump my cleaning supplies behind the counter and go to his side.

“Someone’s eager.” he chuckles escorting me out the front door.

“Your cooking is to die for.” I smile as he opens the car door for me.

“I can cook for you more often.” he slips into the drivers seat and has us on our way to his house.

“I would like that.” I smooth my dress looking out the window. He ushers us into his home and pulls out the chair for me at his counter and begins to cook. I watch his back muscles move as I nibble my lip. He turns and offers me a taste on the spoon and I prop myself up and moan when the flavors hit my mouth.

“Do you like it?” he smiles watching me lean over the counter.

“I do.” I gasp as his hands come around my waist and pull me across the counter. My legs come under me and I sit on the edge of the counter in front of him. “Aemond.” my voice like a plea as he spreads my legs to stand between them.

“You asked to whimper on my counter.” he places his hands on either side of my thighs.

“But the food.” I look up to him with red cheeks.

“Has to cook and I’d like a taste.” my breath catches as his fingers dance up my legs. “Can I?” he searches my eyes.

“Please.” I nod my head and spread my legs wider for him. He smirks before capturing my lips and I bring my hands to him to pull him closer. His fingers push my dress up and I whine into his mouth as they brush against my panties. He kisses down my jaw before helping me lay back. He pulls my waist to the edge and I giggle until his lips are pressing against my thighs. He slides my panties down my legs and his tongue licks up my slit.

“Aem,” my voice wrecked. His hands grip onto my hips before his tongue lashes against me. My breathing comes out in pants as he swirls around my bud and I push myself into his face. He chuckles and my legs shake at the feeling but he holds them open. His tongue is relentless and I squeak as I feel his fingers near my core.

“Is this okay?” he lifts up and looks at me with a dark eye.

“Yes, Aemond, please,” I whine pushing his head back down. He laps against my bud as he presses two long fingers into me. “Fuck,” I whine clenching around his fingers as he starts a quick pace. I arch off the counter as my fingers tangle in his hair. My hips grind into him and my pleasure washes through me as I pulse around his fingers. He continues to work me through and I become a whimpering mess on his counter until he’s pulling back.

“Let me know if you have any other requests.” he hums kissing me softly before turning back to the stove. I’m still spread across his counter trying to catch my breath as he finishes dinner. He turns back to me and chuckles before turning off the stove and moving the pan to another burner. He pulls my dress down and helps me off the counter. “Go sit in the dining room.” he kisses the side of my head and I walk into the other room on wobbly legs.

“Thank you.” my voice soft as he places a plate in front of me.

“Did you want me to feed you too?” he smirks at my widening eyes.

“I think I can manage.” I roll my eyes at him as he continues to chuckle.

“Tell me what you think?” he nods to my plate and I take my first bites.

“Gods Aemond,” I sigh as the flavors travel across my tongue. “This is divine.” I hum taking another bite.

“I’m glad it’s to your liking.” he smiles at me across from the table. We eat in silence and share heated glances throughout. Once our plates are emptied we bring them to the kitchen and wash them together.

“To your library?” I tilt my head looking up to him.

“Unless you want to get back on the counter and give me dessert.” I tug his hand down the hall not bothering to respond to him. He chuckles going in the lead and bringing us to the couch in the center of the room. “Let’s hear about how you liked your book first.” he turns to me.

“I think it was perfectly balanced and if that’s your dirtiest book then I must have corrupted you.” I smirk blinking at him. I got into what I liked best while he chuckles and nods his head listening before I turn all of my attention to him. “Well what did you think about my book?”

“I think we can just call that porn.” he raises an eyebrow to me.

“There was some plot..” I trail off with a hint of a smile.

“What was it? How many times she could come?” he laughs. “It was written well. I’ll give the author that but Gods..” he shakes his head.

“There was some of the love making you like though.” I pout.

“That’s generous.” he bursts out in a loud laugh.

“Where is it? I’ll find it in the book.” I huff getting up and walking to his shelf to retrieve it.

“On my bedside table.” he smirks.

“I figured you would read in here.” I look around. “Sprawled out on your couch, book in one hand, the other down your pants..” he rises at my words and stalks over to me.

“Is that how you read it?” his voice low as he towers over me.

“No, I would wait until I was done reading for the night and swap it out with something else in my bedside table that could help me.” I bite my lip.

“How many times did you come?” he licks his lips.

“Until I was shaking.” my voice barely audible and he groans. His hands go to my waist and pull me closer. “We still have to talk about what you think.” I tilt my head further up.

“I thought about us as the main characters.” a soft whine leaves my lips at his words. “All I thought about was fucking you for the past couple of days. Nonstop.” his words low.

“Yet you still haven’t.” I tease him and he lifts me up and carries me out of the library. He pushes open a door and tosses me into the middle of his bed. My dress rises up and his eye catches my dripping core.

“I decided I will have dessert.” he hums before kneeling on the ground and pulling me against his face.

“Aemond,” my voice cracks as he starts to feverishly lick at my bud. He pushes my dress further up as his arms wrap around my hips. I gasp as his tongue travels down to my entrance. My hips try to buck against him but his hold is firm. His nose continuously brushes against my bud while his tongue explores me. My toes curl as quick whimpers fall from my mouth as he coaxes pleasure from me. I cry out as my high washes through me as he holds my hips in place. I try to move out of his grasp but his fingers dig into my flesh.

“Stop squirming. I’m not done.” he lifts his head up to look at me with a dark eye before diving back down.

“Aem, right there,” his tongue doesn’t move from its spot but he moves it faster. He pushes his fingers into my core and my moans turn high pitched. “Fuck, I’m gunna-“ my hand flies to his hair as my coil snaps and my legs tremble in his hands. His fingers continue to slam into me and my eyes roll to the back of my head. I feel his mouth leave but his fingers curl inside of me and I clench around them.

“How’s it feel?” his voice taunting as he speeds up his movements.

“So good,” my voice slurred with pleasure as my hips slightly rock into his fingers. The second his tongue touches my bud again I burst across his face. “Aem, Aemond,” my voice breaking with every chant of his name. He removes himself from me and I lay there catching my breath. I crack open my eyes as he pulls my dress off of me completely exposing my body.

“Beautiful.” he slips his tongue around my hardened nipples and I sigh as he peppers my chest with attention. “Scoot up the bed.” he nods his head toward the pillows as he stands to undress. I watch him with low lids once I’m propped against his pillows. I lick my lips as he crawls into bed over me. “I’m going to show you what I read.” I nod my head before reaching up to kiss him.

He slows the kiss down and slowly grinds against me. I writhe beneath him as I gasp for breath as he continues to explore my mouth. His tongue caresses against mine as he steadily rocks his length through my wetness. He lines himself up and slowly pushes in and I let out soft sighs. He rocks into me while keeping our mouths mashed together. With every hard thrust he’s brushing against my bud and I cling onto his back.

“Aem,” his name spills from my mouth into the space between us as he slowly pushes into me. Our bodies have no end or beginning as he pushes into me. I feel every inch of him and the second his thumb rubs slow circles around my bud I’m coming undone around him.

“Did you like that?” he hums stilling inside of me waiting for me to come down.

“I did.” my words breathy. I whine as he pulls out. He quickly flips me over and my head presses into his pillows. His fingers dig into my hips as he lifts them into the air and slams into me. “Fuck,” I moan into the pillow as he starts pounding into me. His hand travels up my spine before tangling in my hair and pulling my face up.

“Let me hear how much you like being fucked like this.” he grunts. His pace is relentless and I begin to push my hips back to meet his. He groans as his hips snap into mine. He pulls me up against his chest and hammers up into me. His hand leaves my hair to wrap around my throat. I clench around him and he chuckles before applying light pressure. “Yeah you like that?” he growls in my ear as his pace becomes brutal.

“Yes,” I whine as my hands cling onto his arms. My pleasure unexpectedly slams through me and I push back into him as he grunts digging his fingers into my hip as he keeps his pace.

“Such a good girl taking everything I give you.” he pushes me back down onto the bed. His rhythm falters and I arch my back more to help him find his pleasure. His arm snakes around to my bud and my vision blurs as my pleasure tears through me again. I feel him fill me with his warmth and slowly pull out. I lay on his bed with my ass still in the air before he chuckles and pulls me down onto his chest.

“We have a lot more of that book to get through.” he chuckles holding me against him.

“I’ll find us more. I don’t want this to ever stop.” I cuddle into his chest more as he brushes my hair back.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

there will like 99.99% be a part 2 🙂

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme

#aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond smut #x reader #x reader fic #x reader smut #hotd smut #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

samandcolbyownme · 2 days

Note

jake and girlfriend reader where they’ve been together for awhile now and he gets a tattoo of her bite mark?

Bite Me | Jake Webber

Warnings: biting, mentions of needles and other things related to tattooing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 619

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“You never told me what tattoo you were getting, J.”

Jake glances back at you from the tattoo chair, “It’s a surprise.” You roll your eyes with a laugh, “Oh, I see. Alright.”

You walk up to stand next to him, watching as the artist finishes setting up his station.

Jake rests his arm on the arm rest, laying his head back as the cap of his shoulder gets prepped. You go to sit back down, but Jake reaches out, “Don’t go far, babe, you’ll be needed in a second.”

“Needed?” You question, walking back over, “For what?”

The artist lays a piece of clear wrap on Jake and gives him a thumbs up.

Jake looks up at you, “Bite me.”

“Bite you?” You laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting your bite mark tattooed on me.”

Your jaw drops slightly, “Are you serious?”

Jake nods his head, “I am.” He smiles, laughing, “Now come on! Do it!”

“You’re going to want to bite kind of hard, enough to get the marks to stay so I can map them out, ya know?” The artist says as you walk around, and you nod, “Okay.”

You take a deep breath, pulling your hair back as you bend down, “Like right.. here?” You point and Jake nods, “Yeah, that’s perfect, babe.”

You smirk, shaking your head before you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the plastic wrap on his skin.

Jake watches, taking a deep breath as you stand back up straight, “Good?”

His eyes move from you to his shoulder and he nods, “Fuck yeah.”

You walk back over to the other side, pulling up the chair and sitting next to Jake, “I see why you kept this from me.”

He laughs slightly, “I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Jake. I have your initials you drew, tattooed under my boob, why would I say no to this?” You laugh, “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“Yeah?” Jake smirks and glances over as the needle runs over your teeth marks, “I can agree, probably my favorite tattoo ever.”

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, giving him a smirk. He sighs, tilting his head, “Am I?”

You slide your hand to his and squeeze, “No, I know you’re not.” You smile and lean over to see, “It actually looks really sick.” You nod, “I think that might be my new favorite one, too.”

The tattoo didn’t take long at all. Once he was finished, Jake walks over and checks it out in the mirror, “Sick as hell.” He pulls his phone up to take a picture of it, “Okay, now y/n, come here.”

You walk over and he spins around, holding his phone up to take a selfie of you, his tattoo, and him.

“Thank you so much, dude.” Jake gives the artists a fist bump and he nods, “Anytime, Webber. You know you’re my favorite client.”

“See, now he’s just saying that.” Jake laughs, “Nah, I’ll be back for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Jake’s tattoo and you tilt your head, “What if.. I got one of yours?” You look up at Jake’s face as he spins around, “Huh?”

“Yeah, like, on my hip or something?”

You can tell the wheels in Jake’s brain were turning as he tried his best to keep himself.. calm, “Now that.. would be hot.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you so much! Catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #Jake Webber #Jake Webber blurb #Jake Webber snippet #snippet #snippets #Jake Webber x reader #Jake Webber x you #Jake Webber fluff #Jake Webber tattoos #jake webber x reader fluff #jake webber fanfic #Jake Webber one shot #Jake Webber one shots #fluff Jake Webber

91 notes · View notes

bookuce · 2 days

Text

Fools Rush In

SUMMARY: Nessa wasn’t looking for love, neither was Joe, but when you know, you know.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OCs. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, Joe is Roman. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

TROPE: Love At First Sight

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER FIVE

Nessa felt like shit, figuratively and literally. She blocked his number once she got home from Joe's hotel. Vanessa didn't want to see any texts or get any phone calls from him. She felt guilty enough for ghosting the man. Seeing or hearing anything from him would only make things worse.

She sat on the shower floor, letting the water pour over her head. She tightly wrapped her arms around her legs, her eyes shut while she focused on breathing. The warm steam from the water comforted and relaxed her while she attempted to take her mind off what she had done. Unfortunately for her, she was failing miserably. Though her night was drunken, she could remember every bit of that evening.

She could feel his hands on her body--all over her body, memorizing every dip and curve she had. Despite being pounded by the water from the shower, her skin still tingled in places he touched. Images of his face contorted in bliss, flushed pink cheeks, and sex-clouded eyes filled her mind. Oh, those eyes. Those eyes, hands, and perfectly pink and swollen lips kept reeling her in each time she thought she finished. How many times did he make her come last night? She lost count after the third time.

His voice echoed in her mind. Just like that, he praises. How do you want me, he asks. You feel so good, he tells her. The huskiness of his voice would send shivers down her spine. He somehow managed to make his already deep voice sound even more resounding. The way he spoke sometimes sounded animalistic. There was a growl with certain words, especially when he would say her name.

Vanessa brings her right hand up to her ear. She swore she could feel his ragged breath on her skin just then. The tremble in his voice and the moans he let out were things she never heard before with a man--at least not with any man she's ever been with. Joe was vocal, but this wasn't a bad thing. She enjoyed that he talked her through the things they did. He made her feel in control at times, powerful even. She learned something new about herself, a new kink unveiled.

Joe Anoa'i left quite the impression on this woman. Well, he did promise to make the evening unforgettable for her. Now look at her, dickmatized on the bathroom floor. Maybe she was overreacting about sleeping with the man. She needed this. She needed to be unwound and loosened up. She hadn't had sex in a year! She would never mention that out loud, though. It was bad enough that Isabel looked at her as if she grew three heads every time she remembered that her best friend was practicing celibacy.

Everyone needs to have sex! She'd exclaim. There are health benefits to it! She'd add. She would ramble on about it being a natural stress and pain reliever. Did you know sex can cure a migraine? Te lo digo, Nessa, es bueno para la mente, el cuerpo y el espíritu--Yes, yes, she knows.

Despite her newfound guilt, she felt refreshed when she woke up this morning. Her body wasn't sore. It didn't hurt when she walked. She felt pretty light on her feet. It could have something to do with the fact that Joe stretched her--Alright, that's enough. Vanessa reaches to turn off the shower. The warm water ceased, and cold air rushed to sheathe her body in goosebumps.

She pushes herself off the floor, a small sigh leaving her body as her joints pop with the movement. She steps out of the shower, snatching the towel that hung just above her head on the shower curtain rod. She wraps it around her body, exiting the bathroom. Instead of drying herself off, she drops onto the bed. Her eyes would meet the ceiling as she sucked in a tired breath. Vanessa brings her hand to her face, allowing her palm to drag down it. Her arm would then fly out to rest against the bed, hitting her cell phone. She turns her head towards the direction of the phone, flipping her hand over to grab it.

The light turns on on the screen, displaying the time to her. It was now ten o'clock exactly. She watched her phone screen as if she was expecting a notification to appear. One would never come, though. Unblock Joe's number, commands a voice in her head. Unblock his number and text him. This voice wasn't thinking about her at all; at that moment, it was thinking about what Joe could do for her--what Joe could do to her. Look at her, acting like a touch-starved woman--Well, she was, but she refused to give in to those temptations again. Nessa did it once--er, twice...three times last night, but never again. She had a moment of weakness. Yeah, that's what she was going to go with.

Texting that man after sneaking out while he slept and blocking his number would be foolish. He'd probably call her every name under the sun if he had the chance. Vanessa couldn't say she doesn't deserve it. She was a jerk and entirely too old to be doing this. She drops the phone back onto the bed, her eyes falling shut as she does so. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." She mutters to herself. Vanessa rolls onto her stomach, burying her face deep in the comforter she laid upon. She draws in a deep breath before letting out a muffled scream against her bedding.

Why was she even this torn up over ditching a guy? People did it all the time. They hook up, and they go their separate ways! It's not like she was ever going to see the guy again. Joe lived in Pensacola, nearly a ten-hour drive from Miami. The chances of them ever running into each other again were slim. There was no need to feel embarrassed or upset, but for some reason, she was. These can't be her feelings; maybe they were his. Soul ties are a thing, or at least that's what she read somewhere once before.

She lifts her head from the mattress, her eyes searching for her phone again. Once she locates it, she snatches it from its spot on the bed and opens her browser. How to get rid of soul-ties, she types into the search bar. Several links would appear on the screen before her, her eyes quickly skimming over article previews. "Addiction?" She whispers to herself, her brows furrowed. "The fuck..?" She turns off the screen of her phone once more. Perhaps she's being dramatic.

These feelings she felt are temporary and eventually will be a thing of the past. Hopefully, in about a week or two--or four, things will be alright again. Joe Anoa'i is a complete and total stranger to her, someone she met less than twenty-four hours ago. There was still plenty she didn't know about him despite getting to know the man last night. She learned normal, surface-level things about him; fun facts, if you will. It wasn't enough to pine away over. He was still a stranger to her.

Nessa pushes herself off the bed, now walking to her closet for undergarments and clothes. She couldn't sit around the house, no, not in this state. Vanessa needed to get active and move around. Sitting at home would do nothing but make her mind drift off to the events of last night, and the last thing she needed was to think herself into a horny slump. Maybe a jog will fix this. Yeah, she'll go for a jog.

Joe turns onto his side, his arm stretching out to drape over something that wasn't there. His dark brows knit together in confusion as he allowed his hand to glide over the empty spot next to him. The sheets were cool to the touch, meaning his bed was empty. He forces his eyes open, his semi-unconscious suspicions confirmed almost immediately. Nessa was not next to him. He lifts his head from his pillow, glancing around the room in a half-sleep daze. "Nessa?" He calls out groggily.

He'd get no response back. Joe becomes still, his breathing quieting as he listens for movement. The suite was silent. He moves onto his back, his eyes finding the high ceilings cast in a dim white glow from the light outside. Alone was not how he imagined his morning would begin, but that seemed to be his reality.

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

Joe sighs at the sound of his phone ringing from the nightstand. The timing for a phone call couldn't be more perfect. He lifts his head, reaching out to snatch the phone from its spot. Without checking the Caller ID, he swipes to answer the call. "Hello?" He says.

"I thought your ass was never going to answer," Josh says from the other side of the phone. "Ay, you good?" Joe scoffs slightly at the question. He was something. He hadn't determined how he was feeling just yet.

"Yeah, I'm good." He lies.

"You sure?" Jon chimes in, now leaning into Josh's phone. "Because the damn plane was supposed to leave thirty minutes ago, and your ass ain't here."

Joe's brows furrow slightly at Jon's words. "What're you talking about?" He asks. Slowly, he pushes himself up in bed, allowing his hand to prop him up. His hair would fall around his face, dry curls caressing his cheeks.

"You late, fool!" Jon exclaimed.

"Ay, Paul over here tweaking, Uce. You in trouble." Josh sings.

"Yeah, I ain't ever seen him this red before. Boy, that man is hot." Jon sings. Joe throws back the covers from his body, standing from the bed. His joints would pop as he stretched, a sigh leaving his lips as he did so.

"Is that, Joe?" Paul says in the background. "Let me talk to him." Joe rolls his eyes, his head moving in a circular motion as he does so. He didn't have time for this.

"Nah, it's our dad, Wiseman." Josh lies. "Bruh, bring your ass on." He says lowly to Joe through clenched teeth. The call will end, sending Joe back into silence again. He tosses his phone on the bed, his eyes taking in the room around him.

"Ness?" He calls out again. No answer. The bathroom door was open; the small room shrouded in darkness. He'd grab a handful of sheets, pulling it from the bed to wrap around his waist.

Thin, white cotton sheets skimmed delicately against the marble floor as Joe approached the staircase. He stops at the top and peers over, hoping to see the beautiful woman from last night down below, but she is nowhere to be seen. He spots his clothes draped along the back of the couch, but hers, which once laid alongside his, is now gone. Joe's head turns slightly, his eyes finding the morning sky outside his windows. Vanessa had snuck out before he woke up. Has he ever had this happen before? No, no, Joe couldn't recall. Maybe while he was in college, but after? No, he couldn't say he has.

Like he said earlier in the night, he wasn't interested in hooking up with her, and what happened between them was not planned. He just wanted to spend his last night in Miami with her. One thing led to another, and they ended up in bed together. Getting her there was not his intention at all. Hopefully, she doesn't assume that was what he had planned with inviting her here. His mouth would twitch to the left as he sniffled. Now that he thinks about it, maybe that's why she snuck off.

Again, that wasn't his intention, and he thought he did a good job assuring her he wasn't one of those guys. Did he slip up at some point last night and say or do something that might've thrown her off? He recalls the night just as he remembered it best. They talked, swam a little, and lastly, came back here. Nothing happened between the roof and the bedroom, he thinks. The wine they had wasn't too strong--at least not strong enough to hinder his ability to remain courteous.

Joe's gaze lowered to the floor, his shoulders rising with the breath he was taking in. He was feeling plenty of things right now: embarrassment, disappointment, confusion, and maybe a little anger. The anger is what confused him, though. Vanessa was essentially a stranger--why is he upset that she left?

Try to call her, a voice says to him. No, shoot her a text instead, it backpedals. He shakes his head at the thoughts. No, both options were heavily confrontational. He didn't want to come off weird to her, but then again, it was probably too late. Joe lifts his hand to his forehead, pushing his hair back against his forehead. He shuts his eyes only briefly. "She's just a girl." He mutters, lifting his head. For some reason, those words sounded untrue--coming from his mouth. Was it a false statement?

It doesn't matter--he'll get over it eventually.

Joe slowly turns, now sauntering towards the bathroom. He needed a shower. Vanessa's actions had left him questioning himself again. Was it the sex? His brows would knit together at the thought. It couldn't have been. One thing he knew for sure was that he was damned good at that. His mind would drift off to last night again.

Joe thought they had spectacular bedroom chemistry. He and Nessa left not a single part of that bed untouched. How they managed to stop themselves from going longer than they already did was beyond him.

His hand skims the wall, flicking on the lights within the bathroom. He'd come face to face with his reflection in the mirror, finally seeing his disheveled appearance. His hair stood wildly on his head, his curls defined in some spots and tangled in others. He looked well-rested despite getting hardly any sleep at all. The flight to Texas would be irritating with how the twins said Paul was acting. With how Joe felt, Paul might get some of that attitude back.

He should've left yesterday when he said he would.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: I heard a lot of y'all was judging Nessa for sneaking out the crib before Joe woke up lol

What's that all about? Y'all wouldn't do the same thing after a one night stand? 😂😭

🏷️ list: @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @headoftheetable @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @wanderingreigns @wrestlingprincess80 @siriuslycee @vebner37 @astridxxxxxx @alichesmi @tshepisho @scarlettnoir01 @brokenglassslippers @reignsboy19 @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @sisinever @truefant4sy @paigereeder @tbmotw @fearlesschimera @venusesworld @usoholic @sageispunk @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @issahyland @queeny23 @pytbgeezy @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc

59 notes · View notes

miguel-owhora · 2 days

Text

little drabble at 4 am. woke up to finish this.

cw — blow jobs , consensual drug usage , not beta read

fems n minors dnf, you will be blocked.

Whatever weed you had given Micah, it was working. He felt light and fuzzy, like sinking into a field of cotton, or swimming in a pool of silk — it didn't make sense, it shouldn't make sense, but it felt nice all the same. There's an emptiness to his head that's nice, but it does make him feel a little... weird. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to keep him alert — if a little sluggishly.

Nevermind, though. You had promised him no one came out to this cliff side, neither animals nor man. And for once, Micah had trusted you — and wasn't that so crazy? Micah Bell, trusting you of all people? Perhaps it shouldn't have been so surprising, he had unknowingly found himself gravitating towards you since your first nightly encounter. It still unsettled Micah whenever he thought about it, when you stumbled upon him, without any undergarments to cover himself, how you had — 'foolishly, stupidly, charmingly,' he thought — offered to help him out with his problem.

And then what became of that. Sneaking away from the rest of the gang to more private areas, like school couples running from their peers. How many nights were spent together, drinking alcohol or blackening their lungs or drugging themselves, exploring each other's bodies in a way that would get you both hanged. In a way that was forbidden by society, outlawed.

But since when did Micah care about expectations and about following the law? He was an outlaw for crying out loud! Micah Bell didn't care about that — it was survival of the fittest, a dog eat dog world — a world where he could partake in any pleasure he wanted and not care about the consequences.

Which is how it circles back to you and Micah being fuck buddies. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, and he's sure it's not because of you licking the tip of his cock, letting the white bead of pre drop on your tongue, before it vanishes into your pink mouth.

Silver plumes of smoke slip from Micah's lips as he exhales, a low groan tumbling from his lips as he feels you throat his cock. Your throat is warm and slick, a perfect cavern. His cock twitches when he feels your tongue lick along a protruding vein, circle around his cockhead — feels you drool down his length.

Micah watches with dilated pupils, leaning back against the log, inhaling the unique scent of the burning weed. Your laying on your sides, legs curled up in a way that has your ass pressing against your pants, in a way that definitely caught his attention. Your head slowly bobs, one arm laying against his lap, whilst the other fondles with what you cannot fit into your mouth.

"You've quite the mouth on you, cowpoke," He drawls, speech more slurred from the combination of your perverse affection and from the weed. A low moan slips from his chapped lips when you hold your head down for a moment, nursing his cock before slowly lifting back up.

Your hand cupped around his dick moves, slowly and methodically, jerking him off and keeping him hard, even when the leftover spit on his dick cools without your mouth to keep it warm.

"I've had the experience," You dryly say, glancing back at him. Your eyes are dark in the night, the moonlight shyly peering down at you. But even then, Micah doesn't need to actually see your eyes to know how they stare at him; all doe eyes and pretty, making him weak, making him feel like he's going to do something even more irrational.

Micah swallows.

"Yeah, I bet you have," He snarks, resorting back to his usual defense whenever he feels out of place. "Bet you've done the same to other men, huh? To the other fellers in the gang - probably let them use that pretty mouth the same way you let me use it."

You pinch his inner thighs, and snort when he jerks.

"Micahhhhh," You drawl out, tilting your head back onto his belly. He stares down at you, shadows slithering over his face, cracks of moonlight painting his blonde hair silver. He stares at you with his usual grimace, but it's not so harsh.

"What?" He says, lips twitching as if he's fighting not to sneer down at you. You hum, plucking the joint from his fingers and place it between your lips, taking a drag. The smoke slips down to your lungs, and it burns in a nice way.

You tilt your head, having the basic decency to not blow it in his face. Not like Micah, who you've grown so accustomed to blowing the smoke in your face that you've built an immunity to a reaction. Still, Micah plucks the joint straight out of your fingers and you roll your eyes.

"Shut up." You say, to his previous question. You roll your head forward again, hand still slowly jerking him off, and lean down to lick a flat stripe over his head. You snort when he gives an involuntary jerk of his hips, and you follow his cock and slip the head inside your mouth.

You're all too pleased by the low groan that tumbles from his mouth, and you can just imagine the scruffy man placing a hand over his mouth to muffle himself. Of course the most obnoxious and arrogant and vile man you've ever had the dishonor of meeting is flustered about making noises. You roll your eyes at the thought and slowly bob your head, the routine familiar, as it the taste of Micah's cock in your mouth.

Micah's not the biggest you've taken, somewhere around average, but it feels absolutely perfect in your mouth.

It sits heavy on your tongue, the taste of it salty and musky, in a way that you try to ignore how he probably hasn't bathed in God knows how long. Not because it necessarily grosses you out, but how it turns you on. You sink his cock deeper into your throat, tongue tracing a protruding vein that snakes on his length, a testament to how much you enjoy the taste and feel of him.

Of course, you'd never admit that. Micah was arrogant enough, he didn't need to know just how much his filthy nature made you hard.

The outlaw doesn't seem to notice, head tilting back as he groaned low in his throat, the blunt in his hands wafting with smoke. His cock throbbed in your throat, and you slurped around his length, before slowly bobbing your head.

He groans out your name, low and gravelly with arousal.

"Christ," He swears, eyebrows pinching together. There's a pretty red stripe blooming across his face. His breathing is heavier than usual, one of his hand slithering into your hair and gripping it — surprisingly, it's not harsh, and he doesn't tug on it He just grips it, following your motion as you bob your head.

It doesn't take long til' you feel his cock throb, twitching. You increase your tongue movements, your bobbing, and Micah let's out a few sounds of pleasure, gasping and immediately biting his lip to silence himself as he finally, finally, grips your hair and pushes you down to the base of his cock.

Your nose buries into the golden nest of pubes, his scent stronger and heavier there. His cock throbs in your mouth, jolting as spurts of cum spill in your mouth, well, down your throat. It's just like Micah to not give you a choice in swallowing, and you find that you don't care, really.

After a few minutes, Micah relaxes his grip on your hair. You pull off his softening cock and immediately grip his face. It catches him off guard, and even moreso when you kiss him.

It's nasty, messy, teeth clinking together and your tongue forcibly slipping inside his mouth, if only to deposit the leftover cum. Micah groans, accidentally dropping the blunt, his hands coming to grip your shoulders and hold onto you. He's filthy, diabolical, and very into the kiss, tongues meeting each other and trading saliva, licking over teeth and gums, spit dribbling down both your chins as you make out like the filthy, rancid animals you both were.

You smile against his lips.

#micah bell x male reader #micah x male reader #micah bell x reader #micah x reader #rdr2 micah x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #rdr2 x male reader #micah bell #micah #rdr micah bell #micah bell rdr2 #rdr2 micah bell #micah rdr2 #micah rdr #rdr2 micah #mlm #gay #old man yaoi #tbh

44 notes · View notes

reneesghostinthelivingroom · 2 days

Note

How about a Regina George x fem reader (I'm not a writer just a reader lol, the best I can do is song lyrics so I'm sorry if this idea has been taken or sucks)

Rivalry Turned Romance:

Your character and Regina are rivals in some way.

Initially, their interactions are filled with snarky remarks and subtle sabotage as they try to outdo each other. However, beneath the rivalry, there's a mutual respect and fascination.

As they spend more time together, they start to appreciate each other's strengths and vulnerabilities. Their competitive banter gradually turns into playful flirting, and they realize there's more to their relationship than just rivalry.

Rivalry Lights the Spark for Romance

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, brief mentions of getting drunk, reader and regina rivalry, enemies to friends and lovers mention, long fic

|| Summary; reader and regina never got along. Like, ever. It would be a cold day in hell if they did. There was always something for the girls to argue over... until there wasn't.

Requests open!

Started; September 17th

Finished; September 17th

~~~

Regina George. The two of you were in a stare down from across the cafeteria. You sat with your group of friends, she sat with hers. Regina and you have had a long standing rivalry that dates back to sixth grade. When Regina stopped being human. Your friend group and hers used to be one big group that hung out together all the time. Then the Janis incident happened and you and your friends sided with Janis.

You, Prudence Ollia, Savie Lane and Nyla Caves were deemed 'weirdos' for doing so. While Regina, Gretchen and Karen grew in popularity. Janis was left on the side lines. You and her haven't hung out at all in the more recent years. Since highschool you've just lost touch with each other.

Which brings us back to present day.

"So. What's our next sabotage plan for Lilith over there?" Prudence asked. Lilith was the code name which your group had made for Regina when you talked about her in public and didn't want others to know.

You didn't take your eyes off Regina. It was like the two of you were in some game of chicken. First one to look away loses," huh?" You asked, not really paying attention.

"Next sabotage plan." Prudence simplified.

"Oh!" Savie grinned as she slammed her hands on the side of the table, looking at the three of you with mischief in her eyes," we replace her shampoo with hairdye. Give her green hair."

"Classic." Nyla nodded with a laugh," but none of us would even be able to step foot in Regina's house."

"Actually, I'm pretty certain her mom still thinks Lilith and I are absolute besties. Maybe I could give it a try, make an excuse like she left something in her room for me to pick up or whatever. Lilith's mom probably wouldn't even think to ask for details." You stated, eyes still on the blonde. You swear she hasn't even blinked once this whole stare down.

"I'll buy the hair dye," Savie did an excited clap. She was usually the most hyped up when it came to the sabotage plans.

That night, you did exactly what you had said you would. Luckily Ms George did think the two of you were still friends and Regina happened to be out at a party. So you were able to pull things off pretty smoothly.

The following day, Regina George showed up to school with bright lime green hair. But instead of laughing, people were in awe. And lime green hair was a trend over the next couple weeks.

Regina remained unaffected, which annoyed you to no end. How does everything you do just boost her popularity? It was infuriating. Though you couldn't help but respect her just a little. Only a little.

She walked by your locker as you were grabbing your trumpet out for music class," What? Too cool for green hair, L/N?" She smirked at you when she noticed you hadn't dyed yours to follow the trend. That technically you started.

"Shouldn't you be off trying to steal Christmas, Grinch?" You replied, trumpet case by your side.

Her eyes widened just slightly in annoyance and she snatched your case from you, flicking it open and taking the mouth piece. She handed your trumpet back," good luck in music, loser." Regina winked at you as she walked away. Mouth piece in her fist.

You sighed deeply. Honestly surprised she even recognized that piece was important. You didn't think Regina knew anything about music. Though the only grievance her act actually caused you was a lecture from the music teacher about not "losing" pieces to your instrument.

So it didn't bother you all that much. Which annoyed Regina, but she had a small respect for it. But it was only small.

Things like this would continue to happen between the two of you throughout the rest of the year. Each of you gaining a little bit more respect for the other.

One day, a few weeks before the Christmas talent show, Regina passed by your locker and gave you her signature smirk.

"Hey, L/N. Signing up for the talent show?" She asked, clearly she wasn't really interested. However, unless you were seeing incorrectly, her eyes scanned your body. It was quick and easy to miss if you didn't happen to be looking in her eyes when it happened- what? Pfft, no you weren't staring into Regina's eyes. You hated her.

"Yeah, actually. You still doing that tradition of yours?" You replied, arms folded across your chest as you leaned against your locker.

Regina scoffed, folding her own arms," obviously. Bet it's better than whatever you're doing."

"Playing the trumpet without a mouth piece. You know, when you stole it it gave me the idea to actually give it a try. Kinda fun," You grinned at her. Yes you did it specifically so you could rub it in her face that you were unbothered.

You saw her eye twitch ," whatever, loser."

Christmas was nearing, the talent show was here. You were on before the plastics and Mr Duvall called your name to the stage.

You walked on and took a seat, trumpet held in front of you. You took a breath and got ready to play. Only no sound came out when you tried.

"What?" You muttered to yourself and turned your trumpet around, looking down into it. Apparently someone had stuffed it with pink slime. Not the runny kind, but the kind that looks more like rubber. You rolled your eyes. You didn't need the pink to tell you who had done this," Just a moment."

You got up and took the slime out as you headed back stage, looking for Regina. When you found her; her and her crew were laughing. Presumably at you. They hadn't noticed you approach, so you took your chance.

You threw the slime directly at Regina, it slapped her in the face and landed in her hair. Getting stuck. She screamed and her eyes snapped to your direction.

"Oh you're so dead!" She immediately walked towards you, you stood your ground even after getting a solid bitch slap from the blonde.

The two of you were now in a full on brawl, you knocked Regina to the ground but she pinned you there. The both of you wrestled each other.

Gretchen and Karen shared a look while Cady encouraged it. Being the fake she is.

It didn't take long for Ms Norbury to find you and Regina and separate the both of you.

"She attacked me!" Regina yelled.

"You punched first!" You yelled back.

Ms Norbury sighed deeply," I don't care who started it, ladies. You are both just as involved as the other." Her eyes landed on the slime in Regina's hair," Regina, go get cleaned up. Y/N Mr Duvall's office. Regina you'll meet her there. You have ten minutes before I come get you to make sure you go."

"Ugh. This is so fucking stupid," Regina muttered.

"You're fucking stupid," You muttered right back as you both walked out. Narrowing your eyes at each other.

Soon enough, the both of you are in Mr Duvall's office. Just waiting for the talent show to be over as Ms Norbury waited with you. Keeping an eye on you both in case another fight started.

When Mr Duvall finally joined you, he looked... more disappointed than anything. Or maybe he was just tired.

"How many times must we do this?" He asked. This was not the first time you and Regina had been in his office together.

You and Regina gave each other a side eye.

"It put slime in my trumpet," You pointed to Regina.

"'It'?!" She looked ready to fight you again.

"Girls! Please." Duvall sighed and leaned forward, arms rested on his desk." Both of you are in the wrong. Both of you are being punished. You'll have detention with each other for the rest of this week and next. And you'll be given tasks from the janitor. Maybe if you work together on it... you'll at least tolerate each other more and I won't get so many headaches."

You did not tolerate each other more.

At least, not at first. The first few clean up tasks were absolutely hell.

That was until the janitor trusted you and Regina with floor cleaning machine. (i wish it had a better name but i could not find anything. they're those zamboni things. i'm just gonna call it a zamboni 😭)

You don't know how you earned his trust to use this but you did. School was out for the day and you and Regina had to stay behind, the janitor left already. Leaving the two of you to work alone with this.

You glanced at Regina and grinned. "Bumper cars?"

Regina raised an eyebrow," you're so stupid."

"Come on! You know you want to~!"

"Absolutely not." She folded your arms and started walking away.

You got an even better idea." Slip and slide?"

That got her to pause and consider it. She looked back at you," if it will get you to shut up."

"Definitely." It wouldn't.

You and Regina worked together to get the floor of a hall cleaned up with the cleaning zambonis. Once it was done, you took a running start from around the corner then sprinted down the hall. Sliding the whole way down and trying to stay on your feet. You did not. You landed on your ass about half way down.

Regina laughed as she watched you and thought 'screw it' as she did the same thing. She made it about the same length as you, then fell on her front with a thud.

The two of you laid on the floor and laughing, looking at each other with smiles on your faces. Maybe Regina George wasn't so bad. What you didn't know is that Regina was starting to think the same about you.

"Hey. Wanna ditch this and go get bobas?" You asked, you doubted she would even agree.

Regina seemed to hesitate for a moment before she got off the floor," yeah, sure. But you're paying."

"Aw, whattt? You're like a billionaire." You stood and followed her out of the school.

"So?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled. The halls didn't get cleaned that night, but it seems Mr Duvall's strategy worked a little better than he thought it would.

The two of you rekindled your friendship, you still annoyed each other to no end but on a less... chaotic scale. It was more controlled and less sabotages.

And later it even became more as you and Regina had a very intense drunk make out session.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #fem reader #wlw fiction #mean girls x reader #mean girls #regina george #regina george x fem!reader

31 notes · View notes

sincerely-sofie · 3 days

Note

What are some ideas you've wanted to draw/write but haven't?

Oh man. I've got so many. A handful of ideas include:

A semi-animated series titled "My Pal the Paladin" about a kidnapped princess and the final boss who join forces to track down the legendary hero who's failed to slay even a single mook months after the plot kicking off and yell at him for taking so long. It's based on my oldest original characters and has a lot of sentimental worth to me as a result. Idris, Pal, and Katherine are my babies. I've considered making it similar in production to Dingo Doodle's Fool's Gold series, but I haven't actually made it because I'm really nervous about it turning out poorly ^^; I'd love to post a pitch bible for it someday!

A gothic picture book tentatively titled "Cover the Mirrors" about a woman killing a monster that has haunted her since girlhood, and inheriting the curse that turned the monster from a normal man into his current twisted looks. It would end with the monster's appearance going from being seen as a Boogeyman figure that stalks kids who play outside after sundown while the original monster was around, to a vengeful beast that hunts people who prey on children once the woman inherits the curse. It would play with the idea of trauma giving you unique abilities to help those who have gone through similar terrors, while also warping you into something you can't recognize and find inherently repulsive. I haven't made it because I don't know how to render the painterly style I envision for it.

A mixed media visual novel titled "Cradlehead" about a woman who finds herself serving as the unwilling vessel for an eldritch entity that will destroy her mind when it finishes germinating within and exits her body. She has to escape the pocket dimension it trapped her in to develop within the optimal conditions in order to save herself. The visuals would incorporate clay, digital art, traditional art, 3D models, pixel art, and photography. The game would center around the woman's desperation as she tries to escape while her ability to perceive the new world around her decays more and more over time. I haven't made it because I doubt my artistic abilities to make something like I have in my head come to life.

An untitled magical girl webcomic about an unwilling magical girl with a giant bee familiar named Queenie and issues controlling her powers because of her insecurities. She feels bad about being a not very girly individual while surrounded by hyper-feminine young women who have a handle on their powers she could never dream of. It revolves around her character arc where she eventually stops worrying about meeting the arbitrary standards she imposes on herself to be "girly enough" and decides to just be herself, whoever that is, unlocking her true powers and entering her ultimate form during a climactic battle— taking on a design less like a queen holding a scepter like she'd been dreading, and more like a princely knight holding a stinger-like spear. Her rejection of others' expectations as well as her own helps the world-ending threat, a shapeshifting eldritch being that absorbs people into itself so it can become someone other than itself but is never satisfied with the new faces it obtains, to accept itself and stop trying to steal people's souls in order to find one that would make it love itself. I haven't made it because I worry if it would come across weirdly to the average viewer, as it deals with gender dysphoria as a subject in a very atypical manner.

#my two sides: unspeakable eldritch horror and cutesy goofy cartoons :>#sofie answers asks #stuff by sofie #(kinda. I'm talking about things I want to make at least!)

27 notes · View notes

xruiiii-blog · 14 hours

Note

Hi I’m literally obsessed with this au

I have a couple questions I’m so sorry if I’m bothering you but I’ve been analyzing this comic for way too long

Who is leading mountain to be killed? Who is getting crowned? Why is mountain being killed? Are the rest of the knights/other portraits other ghouls? Who is helping phantom unbury him? Is phantom unveiling him at the end?

I’m so sorry I’m obsessed, your art is amazing and thank you for your time

Thanks for the time and energy you invested into this!!! Wow! I might disappoint you after this haha. But u know! Always analyze and believe in whatever you think it’s the best explanation! I love when ppl have their own understanding of a piece :) that’s why there’s no dialogue

Anyway about the comic…

It supposed to be a simple “once upon a time” kinda thing. A bedtime tell, someone’s small piece of memory, a casual story that’s melancholy. Nobody’s really important, except the little prince and his knight. There’s no deeper meaning other than the lonely prince lost the only person he cares about to a war.

Something about the titan knights is that they don’t care about their identity. Their powers and skills are the things that matters. That’s their identity instead of who that person is under that mask. They are weapons and they like to keep it that way. Meaning that if any one of them dies during the war, a weapon has served its purpose. The others will move on and there’s no sorrow. I don’t want to talk too much about different species lore here it’s a lot…maybe next time :)

However, the two anonymous knights are rather closer to Mountain and Phantom than everyone else. They are also more human-like. They are more sentimental than some others on the team. It’s not anyone’s fault that the titans are this way btw, it’s just how things is. These two knights care about phantom more than the others does spiritually, they kinda understand how close their captain was to the prince and what Mountain meant to him. So they take him to Mount. Usually titans don’t even take the dead body back with them. It’s not like they don’t care, they do, but to them dead body it’s meaningless. No longer serve any purpose. Titans don’t ever grieve, mourn, or anything.

Phantom does. Be glad that he’s even able to contact with the corpse one last time cuz a lot of times soldier’s grave is just an empty tomb. That’s also why he digs. He needs to see it himself in order to let go. He places the veil back to place and sees what he’s familiar with for his whole life. The mere illusion that Mount is still with him.

…

Honestly this whole thing came to me at 2am and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I feel like its more of a vibe, very vague story and fear of death I didn’t executed it the way I wish I could (skill issue…) anyway my first actual try at drawing comics and it took me 2 miserable weeks(it was okay). I shared this before I have concentrate issue my attention span is short💀…ngl the process it’s challenging and I wasn’t expecting ppl to understand what’s happening or even read it. I didn’t expect myself to finish the whole thing even lol. Glad you like it and look at it with these much appreciation AND letting me know!!! :)) that’s what I was tryna say. 🖤🖤🫶🫶🫶

#questions!

26 notes · View notes

l-in-the-light · 1 day

Text

(Mis)adventures of Law with the Strawhats [fanfiction snippet, part 3 - the final one!]

[Links to: Part 1 and Part 2]

"Alliance?" all of them ask at the same time.

"You will find out once someone actually lands on same field" Law cuts his answer short.

"What's with that half-assed effort? Admit it, you just didn't think it through yet!" Usopp accuses him, meanwhile Luffy's eyes get their spark back.

"That's the best idea ever, I can't wait to land on same field with Torao again!"

Yamato looks at the dessert in front of him, so far not even touched. Then he takes the small spoon and digs in a bit, brings it to his mouth and his eyes grow larger. "This is actually really good. So sweet!" then he looks around the table. Law turns his gaze away before their eyes can meet, but somehow Yamato still stops at him for a moment; he can tell.

"Does anyone want to try it too? I don't know why Sanji only gave it to me"

"That's because he thinks you're a lady" Usopp replies. "And no thanks, I'm good, I have lots of salty crackers now"

"I'm also good" Brook says, still sipping his tea. Is it still the very same one since they started playing, Law wonders.

"I want!" Luffy says, but Usopp stops him just in time. "Don't give it to him, he will gulp it all down in one bite. There, you have enough snacks on the table already"

"Yeah, but I would want to try that one too" Luffy says, eyeing the dessert, but seems he finally gives up and downs a full bowl of crackers instead.

"I would want to, but I think Sanji will kill me, or even cook me, if I even try to come near it" Chopper says, because he got interested since the moment Yamato declared it was something sweet.

"He won't know" Yamato assures him and gives Chopper a spoon with quite a big bite of cake on it. He smiles when Chopper quickly catches it with his mouth and a moment later some tears spill from his eyes. "So nice~!"

And finally Yamato's eyes turn to Law. "I'm good" he finally voices out, avoiding to look at the dessert or Yamato.

"Hm" Yamato muses, but seems to leave it be.

"So, how do we play it now?" Usopp asks, because they have been playing for a bit already, but Brook literally just finished the game. "Should we make Brook start over from the beginning?"

"That's cheating, he won already" Law comments.

"Right" Usopp frowns.

"Can I play two turns instead of him?" Luffy grins, but everyone quickly cuts him off with a loud "NO".

"It's kinda not nice to play without him" Yamato says, the dessert forgotten and left unfinished for now.

"Let's just start over, I wanna win!" Luffy decides and stretches his hands to gather all the pawns.

"Then I'm out" Law retorts back and Luffy's hands freeze. He quickly retreats them back.

"Torao" he says, turning to him, his brows furrowed. "Are you in a bad mood? Why do you not want to play with me anymore?"

Law looks deliberately away. Why does Luffy have to constantly act this way? With every day he reminds him more of his little sister. Why did Law had to buy this game in the first place, now he wishes he never did.

"I had to play with you like dozens of times last night, how much more do I have to play till you're actually satisfied?" He finally blurts out. Even this line sounds like something from the past in his ears.

"Every day?" Luffy attempts and Law smashes his hand on the table in reply, startling everyone.

"You can play with other people now" he snaps.

"But I want to play with you too!" Luffy cries out and reaches towards Law's hand that's still splayed on the table. The touch is brief and barely there, but takes Law by surprise and Luffy can feel him freezing up. "Sorry" he mumbles as he retreats his hand immediately, but it's too late and Law is already on his way to the door, trembling slightly. Usopp whispers "Great, now you made him angry", but Law can still hear it.

Usopp peeks at Luffy's face and he just knows he has to do something, anything to stop this. "Let's calm down, it's just a game, Luffy will soon get bored with it anyway" but it has no effect and Usopp nearly gives up at this point.

"Wait, please!" Chopper suddenly shouts. "I had a lot of fun playing together, especially when you allowed me to roll the die for you! I… I never played any board game before! So thank you! And I'm sorry if I did something bad, I'm a dummy after all, so it's probably not fun to play with me…"

That, curiously enough, made Law stop in his step.

"I also never played before. My crew did, mostly card games, but since I don't have eyes, I couldn't join them"

"Wait, you must have had eyes when you were alive" Usopp points out, despite just a second ago feeling kinda sorry for the skeleton man.

"Oh, right. Then maybe it was one of the illusions I experienced when I spent years surrounded with their dead bodies, stranded in the Florian Triangle" he muses, and like an afterthought adds "YOHOHOHOHO".

It doesn't help at all to solve the tension, Law notes in his head despite himself. He didn't sign up to hear all those tearful stories and he for sure isn't gonna share his own one.

Yamato makes a worried expression, but then nods to himself and his eyes become clear like a cloudless sky. "This is actually also my first time playing any board game. Or any game at all, really. Since I was locked alone for almost all of my life and no one was even allowed near me"

Usopp stays quiet for a bit, his brows furrowed and he stares at the table. When he finally speaks up his voice is much quieter than the others. "I lied, I actually also never played any board games before… other kids kinda avoided me in my village. I did have dices though!" he doesn't add that he actually just picked them up from the ground after other kids most likely lost it.

"I kept them, because I thought it was a mysterious object lost by the nomadic tribe of Spotted People. Everyone knows about Spotted People, they're the ones responsible for drawings dots on everything, like skirts. They draw dots on everything that belongs to them, so if you see any dotted objects you know it means one of Spotted People was passing by. Those squares looked kinda important, so I kept the dices for them just in case The Spotted Tribe would cross this path again, searching for it."

"That's so nice of you!" Chopper says, wiping a tear with his hoof. No one comments that the Spotted Tribe doesn't exist in reality, so neither does Law.

Luffy looks at his crewmates expressionlessly, and Usopp has to actually nudge him and whisper to share his story as well. Luffy just keeps staring, but when Usopp points towards quiet Law still standing near the door, he seems to connect the dots.

"Torao!" he calls after him, his voice slightly cracking. "It's okay if you don't want to play with them. Let's play later on, just the two of us instead!"

"OI!" Usopp smacks him on the head. "What's wrong with you?! You were supposed to share your sad story about never playing games with anyone before! And what about us and our feelings?!"

"Why are you hitting me?!" Luffy replies, a bit sulky because he doesn't get it. And Law thinks that of course he doesn't. After all Luffy told him all about it already yesterday night. How he never saw a board game before, but he once played some jumping game one of his brothers drew on the sand.

"We saw some kids playing it before, but we didn't know the rules. Sabo taught us how to play, but Ace said later that those weren't the correct rules, Sabo probably thought them up, because he said earlier he also never played before. I didn't care, it was fun to do something together like that"

Luffy couldn't fall asleep and was kinda moody as the result, so Law, not really knowing what to do, simply proposed to play, because that's the only thing that came to his mind. And then he somehow told him this was the first game his parents gave to Law and his little sister. After Luffy wondered outloud how it's like to actually have parents around, Law somehow ended up playing with him till the earliest hours of the morning.

Usopp just shakes his head, and calls to Law, bringing him back to reality. "Just ignore him, he was always slightly off in the head, there's no way to fix him"

"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say!" Luffy complains.

"What you said earlier also wasn't nice!" Usopp retorted and he smacks him again. Luffy doesn't stay indebted for long and returns the favour, which makes Usopp do it again as well, and they probably would keep on doing it for longer, but Law finally turns around, sighs and just goes back to his seat.

"Do you all have to be always so dramatic about everything you do" he grits through his teeth, crossing his arms and looking at no one in particular.

"Says the most dramatic one around…" slips from Usopp's lips despite his better judgment, and he is immediately greeted with a glare promising many death threats, but their staring contest gets interrupted before Usopp can duck under the table in fear.

"Here you go!" Yamato smiles as he places a plate in front of Law. There's a half of the chocolate dessert resting on it, together with a clean spoon. Law looks at him and raises his eyebrows. "I heard there's nothing better than a make up snack after a fight!" he cheers and goes back to his own half of the dessert, finishing it up with a wide smile.

Law just looks at the plate wordlessly. He admits he feels kinda stupid over all that now, but he would rather bite off his tongue than admit it outloud.

"So, what are we doing about Brook?" Usopp returns with the annoying question. Law closes his eyes and snaps his fingers.

"He will play, as an assassin. He will go backwards, retreating his steps all the way back to the beginning" he says, not even bothering to acknowledge the puzzled looks directed at him. "And every time he will pass by another player, they get eliminated"

"Wait wait wait, that sounds scary!", "It actually sounds fun! Can we fight him off somehow??", "Yohohoho!" are comments that are soon following.

"Hold on, but then no one can reach the end goal!" Usopp points out and is greeted with a very sinister smile in reply.

"Good job for catching on that"

Luffy at least doesn't seem to mind, Chopper is still panicking, Brook doesn't stop laughing, and Yamato's mouth is just comically gaping open. Usopp for once is not giving up though.

"Or maybe" Usopp starts, pondering. "The assassin is instead a ghost. Every time he passes by someone, he starts to follow them around, like a curse! And if that person doesn't do something in particular, they have to return to the start… or they get eliminated!"

"If they don't throw two sixes in four rounds, the haunted person will have to move backwards from now on as well" Law adds. "All the way till they reach the starting point"

"Or if they roll two fours. Because four means death and eight is double death so it breaks the curse!" Usopp nods. "Wait, do we even have another dice?"

"Now we do" Law says, flicks his fingers and another die lands on the table. "You can also escape the assassin following you if you slide down a snake or go up the ladder. We can consider it a special rule that applies only when you're followed by the assassin."

"Then the ghost has to give it up and find someone else to follow around!" Usopp finishes, pointing at Brook. "But if the person who is followed rolls two twos, they become a ghost as well till they get another pair of fours!"

"Good idea" Law comments and Usopp flashes him a smile. And then extends his opened palm towards him, pausing and waiting for something. Law looks at him. "Come on, that was brilliant, high five is in order!"

Law looks at the offered palm and at his own hand. Should he…? And then slowly raises it up and leaves it hanging there in midair, not moving it any further. Usopp smacks his own hand with his, smiling from ear to ear and wiping his nose with his finger. "We make a good team!" he declares.

Before Law can take his hand away, Chopper and Luffy also join in for the high five-ing, earning themselves a groan. Law quickly takes his hand back and hides it under the table, as far as he possibly can.

"Sorry, Torao!" Luffy says and no one gets it, but Law doesn't really comment on it either. Usopp just shrugs, probably thinking it's just another of Luffy's weird things he does. Law starts to realize that's the usual consensus around the Sunny.

"So, whose turn was it?"

"God Usopp's" Law answers, which makes Usopp both flush and giggle at the same time.

"You can be God Torao as well, if you want. You earned it!" he says mercifully.

"No, I'm good" Law replies immediately.

"Suit yourself, I won't offer it to you again!" he warns, waggling his finger at him.

They roll the die, Brook finds his first victim, yohohoho-ing all the time when stalking Usopp's pawn (which was the closest to the goal) while the latter already regrets all his life choices up until this second. Taking advantage of the commotion Law places a plate in front of Luffy. It contains half of the half of the dessert.

"For me?? Really?!" Luffy can't believe his eyes and dumps everything that's on it in his mouth, which is why he has to retrieve the spoon a moment later from his rubbery maw. "Wow, it's indeed very sweet"

Yamato sends Law a smile, but it gets blatantly ignored.

"Ooff, I'm alive" Usopp wipes sweat from his forehead, he slid down a snake to escape Brook's clutches. "The ghost couldn't take me, haha" he laughs weakly. "Why did I even agree to this rule?!"

"Assassin, not a ghost" Law comments.

"It's a ghost! The Bone Snatcher! Because he will steal your bones once he puts the curse on you" Usopp insists.

"I prefer just Brook" says Brook. "Yohohoho"

"No, it's actually a villain! A marine! An admiral!" Luffy butts-in.

"A Germa" Law corrects him.

"A Germa!!" Luffy agrees, throwing his fist in the air.

"I dunno why you're talking about those bastards, but I agree about every bad word you said about them" says Sanji, as he returns to the kitchen. "Or actually, no, just don't talk about them in my presence if you want to get any dinner today" he reconsiders, after he gets back to his counter.

He then notices almost immediately an extra plate in the sink that Law shambled away. "Confess, who snatched something from the kitchen when I was away? Was it you, Law?!" he looks accussingly, knowing fully well what Law's powers could do. Law doesn't exactly agree or disagree, because he might have indeed made Sanji's life a bit harder when he sometimes snatched some snacks for Luffy between meals, just so Luffy would give him some peace. But when Sanji just gives him a stare full of daggers and past resentments, Law remains completely unremorseful.

"You need more than an extra plate as a proof" Law defies him, but before the conflict can escalate any further, Yamato raises his hand, trying to attract Sanji's attention instead.

"Sorry, it was me. I'm a big boy, so just one plate wasn't enough!"

"Oh, if it was Yamato-chan, it's alright" Sanji swoons. "I'm not apologizing to you though, even if you hate on Germa. I have no guarantee you didn't force Yamato-chan's pure heart to help you get extra food" he huffs in Law's direction. Curiously enough, just a moment later he swears when he turns on the water in the sink and it splashes all over him.

"Bone Snatcher!" Usopp still insists on his idea.

"How about Oden?" Yamato asks cheerfully like people aren't fighting and about to punch each other to push their ideas, and suddenly everyone turns to look at him.

"Oden, how nice" Chopper comments. Almost everyone else nods as well. "Oden it is!"

"Since when was Oden a vengeful ghost?" Usopp frowns, but Law just shrugs. "Oh, come on, you can't agree to this as well!"

"It's Oden" Law replies, smirking again when Usopp groans.

"I regret sharing my God title with you, I take it back!"

"I didn't accept it anyway"

At that moment Usopp notices that Law is munching another cookie and narrows his eyes.

"Liking sweets doesn't really suit you" he says, trying to get back on him, judging him with his narrowed eyes.

Law furrows his brows. "I use my brain, brain needs sugar"

"I can confirm that it's a scientific fact!" Chopper butts in, nodding his head vigorously.

Usopp is still looking sceptically at him, when Luffy suddenly shouts. "Finally! I made it on the same field as Torao again!"

They all look down on the board.

"So, what now??" Luffy looks expectantly at Law. They all do. He blinks once. Oh, right. Alliance.

"Now…" he starts and taps his finger on the board. "…we play as one team. We roll two dice, you one and me another, and we add up the number and move our pawns the same amount of fields. The alliance lasts till we roll two ones, which means we can go seperate ways from that moment again"

"What if I don't want to finish the alliance?" Luffy asks immediately.

"Then, I guess, it continues" Law answers reluctantly.

"TWO DICES?!" Usopp screams. "That's an unfair advantage, it's like rolling dice twice every round!"

"Also, anytime we step on a ladder or a snake, only one person can go up or down. That's also a way to seperate an alliance" Law adds, because he knows he needs to balance this rule out a bit.

"Eh, I don't like that" Luffy complains.

"But if we're haunted by Oden and lose to the curse, we both have to retreat our steps all the way back to the beginning, unless we manage to lift it"

"That sounds fun" Luffy cheers again.

"What about the end goal?" asks Usopp, who is now munching on a cookie which he wouldn't touch before, suddenly crackers long forgotten for some mysterious reason.

"Only one person from the alliance can win" Law clarifies.

"How will that be decided?" Yamato asks.

"I will tell you once we get to that situation"

Everyone but Luffy protests.

"That sounds like an adventure!" he snickers.

"What's with that shtick of yours and witholding the rules! I protest! Come on guys, join me in my rebellion!" Usopp tries to rile up the crowd, but they all decide it's not worth it, because who cares, it's still fun. Law sneaks him a small V sign in his direction, which is Usopp's last straw.

"Fine, you want to play this way, then we will add some mines to the board!" he says, maniacally munching on the cookies, sugar rush probably getting to his head as he leans forward, fishing out a pen out of nowhere and coloring one, two, three, four fields completely black before Law reacts, at first trying to catch his hand to stop him, but in the end he just snatches his pen away, using shambles. "Hey, I wasn't done yet!" Usopp complains.

"That's enough already" Law huffs. "Returning people to the beginning all the time is poor balance, it will just make everyone frustrated all the time"

"So what? My luck is flawless and I will laugh at them all the time!"

"What a petty reason"

"It's done already, so deal with it!"

"Think of something else for the mines"

"Guys" Luffy interrupts them. "How about whoever steps on that black field jumps in the air?" he proposes.

They both look quizzically at him.

Luffy simply puts a pawn on that field and flips the board up so the pawn flies in the air (together with all the rest of them) and then lands back on board in a completely different spot. "An earthquake, shishishi!"

"Now you made a mess" Law comments, looking at the board, no surprise in his voice.

"I don't remember where was my pawn located before… How could you Luffy??" Chopper laments, but Luffy only laughs more.

"You basically destroyed the game, you know" Usopp criticizes, but Yamato and Brook look at each other and only laugh. "We can't play like this"

That caused a brief silence. Luffy is scratching his head, about to open his mouth and say something, but Law stops him.

"This doesn't destroy anything" he bluffs. "You just have to start over from the spot where your pawn landed on. And if it landed in the middle of a ladder or a snake, you put them up or down accordingly."

They all look at him like he just saved a world on his way back home from a grocery trip while not forgetting to buy the milk in the process. He has a hard time trying not to cringe.

"What about the pawn that fell off the board or beyond the borders?"

"Just put them on closest fields" he said, taking one of the pawns that completely fell off to the table, pondering. Putting it back on the start seems a bit cruel, but he guesses it can't be avoided…

"Just toss it in the air again, wherever it lands will be it's new field!" Luffy says, snatches it from Law's hand and demonstrates. The pawn fell slightly to the left from the middle of the board. "See, it works out!"

Everyone leans forward to find their new respective spots for their pawns, besides Law who catches Sanji frowning as he steals a peek from his counter. He also didn't miss the way Sanji stared at the board earlier on and Law looks towards the door, lost in his inner world again. He thinks back to their lunch, when everyone was here as well.

"Eh, but what about our alliance?" Luffy suddenly remembers and looks expectantly at Law who returns his attention back on him.

"We still roll both dice and move the same amount of fields"

"Oh, so it's not affected, good" Luffy practically beams, like suddenly something heavy was lifted from his chest. "So we just have to meet up again, shishishi"

"You know it will be harder now that you will move exactly the same amount of fields each round, right?" Usopp asks, taken aback by Luffy's carefree attitude.

"It will be just more challenging, is all! That's nothing for a future king of the pirates!" he cries out. "Also, it can't be helped"

"Indeed" Law says, looking at him. "It was an earthquake, after all"

Luffy chuckles. "Exactly!"

They keep on playing for whole afternoon, Yamato becomes Oden twice and seems to enjoy it more than the regular gameplay, chasing after Chopper who escapes all the way back to the beginning from him before he realizes he's safe already, Brook gets released from his Oden curse by two twos and is close to the goal again. Red and blue pawns mysteriously meet again by a chain of random circumenstances of Law escaping from the Oden curse up the ladder and Luffy sliding down a snake. They're seperated exactly by five fields now.

One die, the one that Law threw, shows a two. Luffy's die swirls a lot and seems to have stopped on five, yet it somehow flipped to show a three instead.

"I saw it!" Usopp shouts, pointing an accussatory finger in Law's direction. "You manipulated Luffy's dice so it lands in the way you want it to!"

"You saw nothing" Law comments back. "And you have no evidence that I ever cheated"

"Wait, why does it suddenly sound like you were cheating all this time??"

"Guys, Brook won again" Chopper complains worriedly. "Does it mean the game is over again?"

"No, we're playing to see who's last now" Law reminds him, ignoring Usopp's question and avoiding his long nose proding towards him.

When Luffy and Law, still somehow in an alliance, reach the goal together, they all finally learn how it will get decided who will be the first and who the second.

"We take the dice, throw it the hardest we can, and whichever one lands closest to the board wins" Law's lips curl up, smile sharp like razor blades, and everyone feels the chill run down their spine at the sight. Luffy laughs and everyone take it as a sign that now is the time to duck under the table, the fastest they can.

Law wasn't kidding when he said "the hardest they can", both of their dice bumped all over the place and hit the ceilling, till finally Luffy's one lands in the pot on the stove, while Law's one bounces off of Luffy's head and rolls away to some corner of the room.

As the result Sanji throws them all out of the kitchen angirly and threatens they won't get any dinner today.

"We need to play like this every evening! After Sanji is no longer in the kitchen" Luffy declares as soon as they're on the deck.

"Without me" Law deadpans, because how dare he decide that on his own again.

"Why?? Usopp, do something, make him agree!!"

"No way, convince him yourself, if I do anything he's gonna murder me in my sleep tonight"

"You bet I will"

"Scary!!" says Usopp as he hides behind Luffy who just laughs like it's all a funny joke, because Torao is always so funny.

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

Later that evening, Sanji is still preparing some snack for Franky who finally managed to sit down after a whole day of making some inventions and repairs. Nami and Robin are chatting at the kitchen table, and Zoro is lying down on the sofa under the window.

"What's that?" Franky asks, noticing a cardboard box sitting on the table. "Isn't it that snakes and ladders game they played before?"

"What?" Sanji sounds alarmed as he peeks over from the counter. "I was sure I threw it out together with all those rascals"

"Oh, so that's the game they were playing" Robin looks curiously when Franky opens the cover. "It looks rather simple"

"It might look this way, but they invented shit tons of new rules" Sanji grumbles, unquestionably thinking back to all the chaos they created in his precious kitchen.

"They did? What kind of?" Franky inquires, taking out some pawns and two dice.

"Whoever finished first was an assassin chasing other pawns down on their path, I think" Sanji says, waving his hand dismissively.

"Oh, how interesting" Robin smiles.

"What are those black fields?" Nami asks.

"Now that you mention it, I have never seen those before in that board game" Franky shrugs.

"They shook the board, scattering all the pieces randomly around whenever someone stepped on one of those" Sanji explains.

"That's surprisingly inventive. Was it Usopp's idea?"

"I think it was actually Luffy's"

"Huh"

"Okay, you're the orange one" Franky hands Nami the pawn. "And you're gonna be green" he turns his head towards Zoro, placing his pawn at the start.

"What? I'm not playing any games" Zoro protests.

"Neither am I" Sanji warns Franky before he can move on to give him a pawn as well. "I only told you about those rules because my beloved Nami-swan asked me"

Zoro looks at him. "Ah, you're just afraid to lose to me"

"WHAT"

"Come on, guys, let's play. It feels so nostalgic, I didn't play this game in forever. They left it here, we can as well play as we wait for our snacks. Sit down here, Zoro"

"Only if you make the stupid cook play"

"I'm not playing!" Sanji shouts. "Why are you here anyway? Aren't you on the watch tonight?"

"Torao took over for me today, actually, so I'm bored"

"Great, then go to bed early like a manchild you are!"

"Sure, if you declare my victory by default" Zoro snickers, moving on from the sofa to the table, and patting the chair next to him. "Come on, don't be a coward"

"The hell will freeze over faster than you will see me playing a stupid board game with you!"

Nami sighs. "Come on Sanji, Franky says it's more fun with more people"

Sanji looks at Nami, his swirly eyebrow flying all the way up on his forehead. "Fine, roll for me until I'm done here" he sighs. "Just so you know, I'm doing it only because Nami-swan asked me to" he clarifies, making a face at Zoro.

"Keep telling yourself that" Zoro smirks.

Soon, they're all sitting down at the table, few of them laughing and others sighing when Zoro somehow manages to turn himself around a few times, earning multiple scoldings from Sanji in the process.

"This is actually first time I'm playing any board game" Robin shares after a while.

"Me too actually. We didn't have any money so we couldn't really play any games" Nami muses. "This is surprisingly rather fun. I was gonna just join you all so Franky doesn't feel lonely"

"Oi thanks, I super appreciate that!" Franky shows her thumbs up. "Did you two ever play before?"

"Nah" Zoro answers.

"You probably only trained yourself stupid even as a child" Sanji comments.

"You bet"

"And you, Sanji?"

"I…" he says, taking a longer exhale of his cigarette. "I only watched my brothers play it before. They played it so often that I memorized the rules just by looking at them. That was before father found out and threw the game away"

Nami shared some condolences with him. He just waved them off, because he was too distracted by stupid marimo attempting to climb the snake from it's tail.

Meanwhile, just outside the kitchen, Law leans on the wall, standing there quietly. After some time, he shambles himself away to the crow's nest, where no one could see him smiling ever so slightly to himself.

23 notes · View notes