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inkonparchment · 1 month ago

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American Wedding | Part 2

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

You've never seen him, you’ve never met him and yet here you are, Mrs Kennedy, a fate that was always to be yours since the day you were born. The golden band on your finger catches dust at the train station, hoping that at the very least, he's kind.

warnings: this is set in late 1800s. reader is described as having long, silky hair. allusions to mental and physical abuse (not by Leon). misogyny. marriage of convenience. arranged marriage. implied age gap. absolute zero research for era appropriateness. bodyshaming. eating disorder.

word count: 5.6k

a/n: writing this felt exactly like how it feel watching a one take movie scene. i hope this wasn't disappointing and lives up to expectations. enjoy<33

prev.

You barely sleep.

The cotton sheets feel soft under your touch as you curl in a fetal position in the centre of the bed, your book still clutched tightly against your chest. Sleep doesn’t come to you, your heart a hammer in your chest, eyes wide and unblinking, ears sharp and trained to listen for any scuffle outside your door.

You think he will come again, in the dead of the night with no soul around to bear witness to his ravage of you. Perhaps he is careful of his image, not wanting his men to see his cruelty. Wet tears moisten your cheeks, gathering into a puddle near the embroidered roses on your pillow. The mattress feels wrong. It’s too stiff, too cold and smells foreign. It doesn’t feel like home.

You trace the roses with your fingers, swallowing your sobs, pressing the hardcover closer to your heart in hopes of soothing it. It works terribly, for your heart still aches for your mother. With the edge of your palm, you press away the tears, trying to recreate her gentle loving caress. But it's not the same. She feels so far away, the scent of her floral perfume already a distant memory. Your hands ache to write to her, drowning in want to melt into her arms, to run back to her.

But can you? No.

Your husband wouldn’t allow it. I will never force you to do anything that you do not wish to do. Is that not what he had said? But you know that candour is not a trait possessed by men, their tongue crafted by the devil himself, dripping in fallacies. He means to be kind to gain your trust, perhaps a planned ruse to lull you into a false sense of security until he decides to truly reveal himself to you.

You tangle your hand into your hair, combing it away from your face, imagining yourself sitting on the stairs of your- your father’s porch, your mother sitting behind you with a brush in her hand. You would watch the butterflies, watch in fascination as they would fly freely across the green pastures, taking their pick of the prettiest flowers whenever they wish to rest. It’s in a man’s nature to be cruel, they just can’t help it. That would unsettle you, taking her words in your mind and spinning it around in every angle.

Surely that can’t be?

Mr. Matthews always caressed his daughter’s cheek before handing her a butterscotch. You would always stare at their interactions from your seat three rows behind them at church, agog at the way he looked at her, something akin to fondness, you could even delude yourself into thinking it was love. You had given it a try, foolishly tugging your father’s hand against your cheek, expectantly staring into his eyes to see if you could find the same twinkle in them.

You had to sleep on your left side that night, the sting across your right cheek too unbearable to put any weight on it, only for it to be cooled by the stream of your warm tears.

Exhaustion soon wins over, underestimating how much you had been spent by the day. The memory of your father etched in the front of your eyes when your eyes finally flutter shut.

You don’t know how long you sleep for, dreaming endlessly of lush field speckled with daffodils that burst against the soft trot of your horse, hair whipping in the air, suddenly shooting upright as the hammer in your chest returns, almost tearing through your ribs. It takes you a whole to absorb your surroundings.

Your bed is in the wrong direction, it doesn’t have four tall posts with chiffon draped around, your curtains aren’t blue against the orange gleam of the morning sun shining through. The walls are different, your vanity a strange shape with possessions scattered across that you don’t recognize. You panic, thinking you are in the wrong place, taken blazingly in the dead of the night from your home. Reality finally hits as you almost scramble out of the bed, melting back onto its edge, the book falling to the floor with a loud thud.

Of course. You’re Mrs. Kennedy now, a possession still but now by a different man.

You blink at your blurred reflection in the mirror. Your make up is non-existent now, smudged sloppily across your face, the streaks of tears leaving behind tracks on your cheeks. You feel hollow, lips sticking to one another, chapped as you pull them apart. Your hair now cascades down your shoulders, carelessly thrown over each other, still clad in the virgin white of your supposed wedding dress.

Your senses are slow to return but the house feels quiet, deathly so. There’s no movement, no murmur, no thunderous applause of boots or the loud indignations spurred on by drunken stupor. There are no slamming doors, no muffled tears. And that sets you on the edge.

There’s a sharp rap of knuckles against your door that has you jumping from your seat, standing upright, straightening the state of your hair as you fold your shaking hands in front of your skirt. I hope he doesn’t bruise. The door swings open softly and standing on the other side is a kindly looking woman, the roots of her hair turning grey, pulled back into a neat bun and dressed in a soft brown plain dress.

She introduces herself but you’ve already forgotten her name, too struck down in your fear to register anything. Soon after she’s ushering you out of your room, bustling you across through another door. Steam greets you with a soft gentle tug, a bathtub sitting in the centre of the room, smelling deliciously of perfumes and oils. You are stripped of your previous clothes and submerged in the water.

It’s nice, at a perfect temperature. But you’re numb to the woman’s gentle scrubbing, washing you as though you are porcelain. She doesn’t say much, doesn’t stare, doesn’t ask questions but instead lets you be, kneading out knots from your tense shoulder. You must take care of your hygiene. Smell nice, look pretty, be of some value like a jewel. Only then will he learn to cherish you.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t lay with you. Maybe he considered you impure, tainted by your past life, carrying with you a stench that you could not smell. Perhaps he will now that you are scrubbed clean. Still frozen in your state, the woman coaxes you out of the tub, wrapping something equally warm around your shoulders and then you’re herded back to your room.

You blink and she is gone.

The stool of your vanity is comfortable, the velvet plush under your touch. Any evidence of yesterday’s travels has been washed away from you, all of your make up gone, leaving behind soft unmarked skin. You’re in a periwinkle blue dress, the colour light and soft against your skin. Your hair has been left to curl loosely around your shoulders, strands fluttering across your forehead. You gather them quick and push them back, hastily locking them tightly, not a single lock out of place. There should be no flaw visible on you.

And then you sit like a corpse, fingers tugging against each other, the sun merry in its journey to the apex. You wonder why you’re not happy, always having dreamed of escaping your home. But perhaps you had indulged in your fantasies too much for this to bring you satisfaction; dreaming of heroes coming to save you with their glittering swords and brilliant stallions, threatening to tear apart anyone who stood in the way of his love, cupping your face with utmost gentleness, whispering grand professions of their love, of how you are the moon that guides them home before setting off to a blissful life awaiting in the land beyond where the sun sets. Perhaps this was your own undoing.

Sunlight floods your room now, the gurgle of your empty stomach finally prompting you to dare to venture into his house. You heard no noise during your pitiful vigil, confirming that you were perhaps alone. The stairs creak as you descend them slowly one by one, careful not to make too much noise.

The first thing you notice is the door that leads outside. There’s a glass panel in the centre, allowing you a glimpse into the outside world. The sun shines bright, dust kicking up every now and then by what you assume is the wind. The sudden urge to run grips you again, screaming at you to take the opportunity, to not look back. Too late for all that now, isn’t it? You smooth your skirt, bury those thoughts for good and walk forward.

The parlour is a vast space, surrounded but couches and chairs alike all turned towards the bricked fireplace. There is no stuffed animal head hanging atop the fireplace, the usual subject of boasting during men’s gathering, gauffing about the animal’s helplessness before the final killing shot, whiskey tipping out of their glasses and onto the wooden floor below.

It looks unused, something about the space that seems cold, perhaps it’s the thick layer of dust atop the abandoned book sitting on the table like it hasn’t been disturbed in years. The curtains are drawn, material thick as it doesn’t let any light permeate through it. You don’t dare to take a step inside, not wanting to disturb whatever has been left abandoned in it.

You find the kitchen easy enough, right next to the main entrance. It is sizeable, your eyes widening at the space, admiring the solid wooden dining table seating eight in the middle. A small basket carrying assortment of fruits calls you towards it, hesitantly reaching out for an apple, its red skin glistening under the golden rays. You look over your shoulder once before allowing your fingers to curl around it.

You pull it towards yourself, inhaling deeply, eyelashes fluttering at its sweet scent. You skin your teeth in, juice erupting where you had bruised its skin, tongue quick to lap them up. The apple disappears quick in your haste, bitten down to the very edge of its core, leaving your fingers sticky from where you hold it. The hunger quells in your stomach, no longer protesting from starvation but also not quite satiated. But it is all that you allow yourself, quickly disposing off the remnants, hiding any evidence of your meal. No seconds for you, we don’t need you chubbing up uselessly. No man will want you.

You think about exploring the rest of the house but pause. Isn’t the kitchen the most important room now as the lady of the house? It is your responsibility, every other corner irrelevant. Your room for you to rest and the kitchen for you to serve. You begin to move by yourself, scouring the entire room, familiarising yourself with its every crevice. You look out the window over the sink, the sun almost as high as it can get and the thought of making lunch hits quick, shivering at the thought of your hungry husband returning home without a warm meal waiting for him.

You find the ingredients needed for a hearty stew, some missing but you’ll inform him later, setting quick over the stove. A warm meal always cools tempers. You find a pretty apron hanging by a hook inside the pantry, an aura of dust around it. The image of your husband donning it on to cook relieves your anxiety a bit, but shame quickly follows about thinking of him that way. The lid goes on the pot bubbling away and you set aside a plate for him, lessening the time it would take to serve him.

It’s when the sun begins to come down from the top mast that the sound of heavy boots snaps you out of your daze. You straighten quick, pushing the chair back in its place and dust off your apron, adjusting your skirt and then standing with your hands folded together.

You see his shadow fall on the floor before you see him, bringing with him the scent of dirt and sweat. Leon walks in through, hat in one hand and a rag in another that he’s using to wipe his face, too busy to notice you immediately. You try to control the way your pulse starts to hum, struck at how different he looks from the first time you met him. Gone is the proper looking gentleman.

In his steed stands a rancher, a man who works tirelessly on his land, unafraid of hard work. His outfit is replaced by a plain dark blue shirt with sleeves pushed to his elbows, his veins carving out paths on his glistening forearm, disappearing in the bulge of his concealed biceps. His suspenders attach to his dirtied work jeans, boots heavy in their steps, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

He notices you, lowering the rag and swiping his hair back from his face where they remain, wet from his sweat. Leon’s expression immediately softens, turning towards you, eyebrows furrowed at how you cling so stiffly to the edge of the dining table. The concern in his eyes pulls you in, not a word uttered but the look on his face urges you to relax. His eyes flicks to the pot on the stove, then to you, then to your apron. But he makes no remark.

“Good morning,” You blurt out without thinking.

The upturn of his lips is instant, stuffing the rag in his back pocket and putting his hat on the table. “Good afternoon.”

Right, you almost smack yourself, growing heated as he places his hands on the chair, leaning against it, biceps flexing as he shifts his posture. He looks over your form, bright blue eyes taking you in, never lingering anywhere too long to make it uncomfortable.

“Did you sleep well?” Leon gently asks, furrowing his brows.

“Yes.” The lie is instant. There’s no reason to burden him with your worries. He’s keeping you in his home and that is enough.

He hums thoughtfully, eyeing you up as though in question and searching. For what, you don’t know.

Your mind snaps at you again, reminding you of the heated stew and chastising at your lack of response after seeing your husband return from work. “I made some food. If...if you’d like.”

It’s childish how you blurt short sentences around him, anxiety making you word vomit instead of taking deep breaths and talking in proper sentences like a proper lady. You’ll have to correct it soon; there’s only so much patience you can demand from him.

“Thank you.” Leon sounds genuine as though truly grateful for your effort, his voice gravelly after a day of labour. “I’ll wash up.”

You stand there as he walks past you towards the sink. You stand frozen, the sound of running water drowning out the chaos in your mind. His broad shoulders draw your gaze, each movement igniting a mix of admiration and anxiety. Should I say something?

Leon turns off the water and turns, clean towel in his hand as he dries off, catching you staring at him. You immediately look away, anxiously pulling at your apron as you busy yourself in scooping out the food in his plate. You pick up the plate of the bread you cut up, turning around to set it down in front of him and then feeling your footsteps stutter.

He’s not sitting at the head of the table like you thought, like you were made to practice the proper etiquette to serving your husband. He sits on the far side from you where he can watch the stove, the window and the main door. It's no matter. You still serve him.

You set the plates down in front of him, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight shake in your hands.

“Thank you,” He repeats in the low gentle tone of his, “You really didn’t have to.”

You back away just as quickly hands clasped like they were before.

He leans his head forward, catching wafts of steam in his nose, inhaling deeply. When he opens his eyes, there is a glaze in them, but it disappears before you can catch it. Leon picks up his spoon but doesn’t start, not yet, twisting his head to look at you expectantly.

Your heart leaps out of your throat. What have you done? Have you done something wrong? Does he not like to eat stew? God, you should have asked him for his meal preferences. Was it the bread? Did you set-

“Where’s your plate?”

Oh.

“I...I’m not hungry.” Another lie. But this time your stomach grumbles loudly, betraying you.

He sets his spoon down, leaning back in his chair as he fixes you with a look. “I am not going to eat without you.”

His clear admission leaves you dumbfounded. What? Should he not eat first while the food is warm? What good would it be for him if you’re too busy eating yourself? What if he needs something? You’ll be slow to get it for him and he will be fast in reprimanding you.

You dish out a serving for yourself, pushing away your anxieties. The portion you get for yourself is significantly smaller than his, choosing the pieces with less meat on them, feeling undeserving of it. You don’t need it anyways. He works hard does he not? Meanwhile you will sit away under the shade of your house. You have no use to eat heartily.

You hear the scraping sound of a chair being pulled back and you turn to see Leon holding the back of the chair at the head seat, waiting for you to sit so he could safely tuck it under you.

Your mouth runs dry. How do you tell him that you cannot? That it is not your place but his to sit on the throne? That you’ll be okay sitting at the base of his feet, dusting off his shoes, making yourself as small as possible so that you’re insignificant. You’ll be a woman one day, learn to be quiet.

But this is his house, and his word is the law.

He pushes the seat in as you begun to sit before sitting back onto his chair. He waits until he sees you lift the spoon to your lips, silent but observant to your helping of the stew, and then he begins to eat. You sit with a bated breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable onslaught of criticism, how there is too much salt or there isn’t enough salt. Instead, he showers you with praise. “This tastes so delicious.” and “Thank you for making the meal.” and “I haven’t eaten this good in a long while.”

Each compliment is like a fuel for your heart. You like how he says it so earnestly, his eyes wide and catching yours whenever you would dare to look at him, gleeful in how he would lick his spoon clean each bite, fascinated by how his tongue would curl around the metal. You feel your face burn, suddenly full from having watched Leon devour your cooking, soaking up every last drop on his plate with the bread slices.

The warmth of his words wraps around you like a comforting blanket. “I’m glad you like it,” you reply, your voice soft.

You make to get up, to take away his dishes, your own food remaining in your plate. But he is quicker than you, hands brushing against his, feeling the strong, hard calluses against your soft skin when he rises to his feet.

Leon shakes his head at you, the gestures towards your unfinished meal. “Eat. I got this.”

You practically shovel the food in your mouth, your blood running cold at the sound of him rinsing dishes while you finish your lunch. You make it a point to remember to finish before him next time either by lessening your portion further or simply eating fast. You’re up in a second, coughing to help move the food down faster, approaching the sink to relieve Leon from washing the dishes.

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t let you come too close, choosing to simply take your empty dishes and add them to the pile of soapy water. You try to tell him to move, “Mr. Kennedy, please let-”

He fixes you with a look that has you shut your mouth up in an instant. You stare at him unblinking, realising that you’re once again pulled into his gravity. The freckles on his face have freshened up, his long eyelashes fluttering against the sunlight. His stubble remains unchanged from yesterday and you’re suddenly gripped by the urge to run your hand across it, to feel it prickle against your palm.

Leon is still staring at you, his eyes flickering between yours in search of something. There is a crease in his forehead, seemingly in deep thought. He slowly moves his head forward, forehead almost caressing yours, breathing in the same air as you, waiting for you to back away. But you don’t.

“Leon,” He firmly says, “Always Leon to you. Try saying it.”

You bite the tip of your tongue, regretting the slip up. You expected more of an outburst, but he is patient with you. You can’t help but notice the speckles of green in his eyes unbothered by his musky scent that he has enclosed you in. You swallow thickly, and in a voice as low as a whisper that barely moves your husband’s bangs, you finally say, “Leon.”

The smile he graces you with warms you to your toes, you growing bashful under it. Thankfully he doesn’t fixate on you too much, turning back to wash dishes. The two of you fall into a rhythm soon enough, him handing you wet plates and you wiping them dry and carefully placing them away. For the first time since you can remember, the silence isn’t overbearing. It doesn’t suffocate you, no sweat gathering in your hairline as you wait for the inevitable wailing that always follows.

“Did Marla find you okay?” Leon asks in the low baritone of his voice, still focused on his task while the sunlight bathes him in gold.

Marla? You wonder who he’s- Oh, he must he talking about the lady who helped you in the morning. You’ll have to remember to thank her later. And apologise for your stricken behaviour. “Yes, she was very helpful. Thank you.”

The dishes are soon wiped away, kept back in their designated places and you stand at a distance from him, watching as he leans against the wooden counter. He seems to be in deep thought, glancing down to your shoe wear, scratching his stubble. “Do you have boots?”

Boots? Why would you need boots? Does he plan on making you heave hay bales, working you to the bone under the sun? You can’t refuse, once again submitting at his mercy. “Yes, I have them upstairs.”

Leon folds his arms, shirt straining across his chest at the action, looking at you through his eyelashes, “Go put them on.”

You almost run, careful to hang the apron back in its place. The stairs creak under your quickened steps, kicking off your dainty shoes and struggling to lace your boots under the plaits of your skirts, mind afflicted with a dozen possibilities of what he could possibly have planned for you.

By the time you return, he’s waiting for you by the door, his hat back on. You let go of your skirt when you near him, his hand holding the door open for you. You steal a glance towards him, biting the inside of your cheek, the glint bright in his blue eyes as he gestures with his head encouragingly.

You step outside, the hot wind greeting you quick. You squint at the harsh light, hand coming up to shield your eyes. Leon chuckles as he brushes past you, a “come on” to make sure you follow him, taking off in the direction of the stables. Dust kicks up around your steps, trying your best to keep up. You take up your surroundings, the ranch hands working hard, tipping their hats to you as you walk past, sweat glistening down their forehead, their “Good day ma’am” making your stomach lurch, mumbling back a greeting to them, confounded at the sudden attention you’re receiving.

Leon greets the stable boy, heading inside and glancing over your shoulder to see you haven’t strayed too far behind. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust, smiling meekly at the “Ma’am” offered to you by the young man. Your steps falter, breath hitching in your throat, eyes widening as you’re greeted with the sight of the same brilliant stallion that had brought you here yesterday. His brown coat shimmers, light moving as he trots his foot, digging into the dirt underneath. He’s beautiful, putting to shame all the horses you had seen on your father’s estate. He is much bigger and muscular, a perfect picture of grace with beady eyes reflecting intelligence as he watches you.

You feel a warm presence come up behind you as you donot dare to move, too enraptured by the sight in front of you. A hand comes round from your left, the golden ring glinting, palm facing towards you, holding out a sugar cube.

“His name is Beauford,” Leon mumbles close to your ear, his silky husky voice smoothing out the edge in your system. “He’s quite fond of sweet things.”

You can’t help but throw him an incredulous look over your shoulder, his hat tipped back a bit so you could see his whole face, eyes full of mirth, gliding between your eyes and lips. “Beauford?”

He laughs at your tone, eyes crinkling at the corner, the sound thrilling you, surprised by how easily his features melt into softness. “Well, that would be my fault. I‘m not so good at naming gorgeous things. Now you’re here so I can leave that up to you.”

The back of your neck burns, gaze falling immediately to the sugar cube he’s holding out to you. Hesitantly you reach out, taking note of the cracks in his palms, silvery ribbons of what you imagine to be old scars. You think about your fathers' hands, his palm soft but never holding out any love for you, only knowing them for the cruelties that he would distribute so enthusiastically. You stare hard at the cube before picking it up, your fingers lingering against his. And he moves away, taking the warmth with him.

You step towards Beauford, his watchful gaze fixed to you holding out the sugar cube. Once you’re close enough, he steps forward, lapping up your offering. Your heart swells in glee, an easy smile breaking out on your face, hands immediately set on patting his neck, nuzzling your nose into him.

Leon smiles as you do, hands gripping his belt buckle as he watches the scene unfold, chucking slightly when you grow bashful upon realising he’s watching you. His saddle is on, you notice, wondering if Leon would allow you to take a small trot around the stable. As you build up the courage to ask, the sound of stirrups clicking snaps your head back to see Leon gracefully climbing on another horse, it’s black mane glossy.

You stare dumbfounded, question dead on your lips, throat drying up. He’s leans forward on his saddle, quirking an eyebrow at you. “You don’t know how to get on a horse?”

You nod dumbly. Of course you do. It’s second nature to you.

Leon fixes his hat on his head, a mischievous look flashing on his face. He pulls on his reigns, setting off in a gentle trot, brushing past you. The pink of his lips are upturned at the corner when he calls back out to you, “Let’s see you keep up!”

Adrenaline begins to pump in your system, making your heart race, a light shake in your hands but this time out of excitement. You pick your skirt up and haul yourself onto Beauford’s back, patting his neck, “Let’s be friends now.” And instincts take over.

Beauford feels strong under you, feeling his muscles contort as he takes off bursting into the midday sun. You squint again, following the dust trail to see Leon galloping in the distance, but not too far away for you to not catch up to him. You spur him on, racing after Leon, your anxieties melting away, unable to fight off the smile that stretches your cheeks.

You don’t see the way Leon grins, turning his attention forward and tearing into a full run. The vibrations of Beauford’s gallop thunders through your body, uncaring at how your hair is loosening from their tight hold, whipping against the wind. Laughter echoes as you bask under the hot sun, gleeful at the sensation of leather gripped tightly in your hands, taking deep lungful of unrestricted air.

Leon begins to slow after a while, the ranch distant behind the two of you, guiding you up the small rocky hills, carefully bypassing cacti and thorny shrubbery. You fall into step next to him, feeling hot under the sun, sharing small smiles with Leon. He halts to a stop near the edge of a cliff, fixing the reigns of his horse onto a rock before coming to stand next to you, patting Beauford’s head.

You still, watching him take the reins forward. Leon holds out his hands and you hesitate. It’s a little higher than what you’re used to, you can manage by yourself, the little voice in your head scoffing at you becoming a nuisance. His gaze halts that voice, making it disappear and you lean into him. You steady yourself on his shoulders, his hands coming to hold you by the waist, bearing your weight without a complaint, lifting you off the saddle and gently placing you on the ground.

Leon is strong and unwavering in his motions, no betrayals of faltering, eyes fixated on the flush of your cheeks, taking note of your heaving chest. He feels strong pressed against yours, marvelling at how you feel secure in his grip, your thumbs brushing the hair on the back of his neck.

One of his hand travels up to your face, rough fingers feather light against your cheek as he tucks your hair behind your ears. He releases you with a deep sigh, stepping away and making you miss his touch already. You shake your head, meekly following him as he comes to sit on a bench shaped rock on the edge of the hill.

A gasp involuntarily escapes from your lips when you see the view; it’s the whole of his ranch. It's gorgeous in the deep orange hues of the sunset, the whole land visible and easy to track by the white fences, ranch hands moving about like tiny ants. The house sits on the edge, looking like a doll’s complete with a swing set that you had never noticed before. The whole land stands in the middle of tall cliffs surrounding it as if in embrace, protecting it from threats unknown.

“I come here sometimes by myself,” Leon says, seated next to you, “It’s nice to take it all in from here.”

“It’s gorgeous,” You whisper in wonderment. You didn’t think you’d find it so, a strong contrast to what you had seen growing up.

Leon hums in agreement, his eyes stuck to your face as you stare at the view, your eyes wide and bulging, his heart fluttering at seeing the sparkle return to your otherwise dead gaze. He likes it, wants to keep it there. “Yeah, it is.”

He reaches out for your hand making you jump at the unexpected contact. But you relent, allow him to pull it in his lap and intertwine it with his, your paired rings resting against one another. “I know this is far from what you’re used to but if you’ll let me...I’ll do everything in my power to never make you feel misplaced again. This all belongs to you and I hope it is enough.”

Your heart seizes, vision getting blurry at the thought of simply being considered for. You stare at your intertwined hands, marvel at how delicately he holds you, yearning to feel more. Maybe you will learn to love this place. “This is more than I deserve.”

Leon grips your hand tighter, giving you a serious look. “Don’t say that. You deserve everything.”

You grow weak under his watchful gaze, his jaw locked, his dislike apparent at your words. It’s okay, he decides, you two have a whole lifetime for him to make you understand, to make you see that there is nothing more precious than you. He will bear the burden, shower you with his patience and love, slow and steady like you should have always received. He will make you understand, make you his priority, his wife never to long for anything ever again.

He sighs, bringing your hand up to his face and gently places a kiss over your shared wedding rings. “Welcome home, my love.”

And as the sun dips in the horizon, an unfamiliar warmth settles in your chest, quenching the longing in your heart. You realize that this is home – not the land or the house but the man who’s promises are etched in your heart.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #goodNIGHT

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alexiroflife · 5 months ago

Text

"it's not for me to say"

tooth rotting, stomach aching, heart palpitating fluff

kento nanami x reader

Synopsis: you and your husband share a dance in your living room after your anniversary dinner

to sum it up: married life with nanami >>>>

WC: 1,429

Warning(s): none

youtube

It's not for me to say you love me

It's not for me to say you'll always care

The room is empty. The fairy lights strung messily about the four corners of the walls light up the space delicately as the vinyl spins tirelessly in the corner, confined to the needle that the deep red record player presses into the disc. Dirty dinner plates sit atop the oak wood of the dining table, the disarray of kitchenware and dishes completely forgotten. The fireplace burns and crackles comfortingly, warming the legs of the couple standing just a few feet away from it. The soft vocals of muffled jazz matches with the gentle hums emitting from the dirty blonde's lips as he holds his partner close. The rest of the home stands still and silent, as if frozen in time to allow the serenity of the darling moments occuring within the dining room to extend into the night.

Oh, but here for the moment I can hold you fast

Your head is tucked just under Nanami’s chin and cheek pressed against his chest. The softness of your hair tickles his neck perfectly, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks at the gentle feeling: a reminder of your gentle grace. His large hand holds your waist snugly to his body, his fingers caressing the satin fabric of the crimson dress he purchased you for this very occasion. His left hand holds yours out, bejeweled fingers moving to trace your palm to imitate the strikes of the piano keys dancing in the background. Your eyes stay closed in serenity while they sway lazily to the music. You are far too busy soaking up the warmth of the fire against your skin and the warmth emanating off of your lover's embrace to be interrupted by opening your eyes just yet. You want to savor this, engrave it into your mind so that it may stay with you for years to come.

Nanami’s lips ghost over her forehead, sending the vibrations of his hums throughout your skin.

And press your lips to mine

And dream that love will last

The sorcerer’s heart hammers against his ribs in the best way imaginable, his chestnut eyes swollen with admiration. Happiness is a concept that had grown foreign to him for the majority of his life, and when he finally stumbled upon it by meeting you, he found it almost humorous that one person could enter his dull course of existence and change everything he believed he had known prior.

The blonde inhales slowly through his nose as he pulls back to look down at the woman in his arms. You lift your head when you feel him shift against you and slowly blink open your eyes to gaze up at him softly. The deep (e/c) of your irises drags him deeper into her gaze, his pupils dilating almost instantly as he takes in your breathtaking features. Your free hand lifts from his shoulder and brushes the side of his face lightly and the short, silky strands of his hair blissfully. Your red glossed lips stretch into a dreamy smile upon taking in your husband’s striking face, eyes crinkling with the pull of your lips upward. Your knuckles graze over his sharp cheekbones, feeling his skin grow heated under your touch. His eyes flicker from yours to your nose, your lips, and all across her face. He could only define you as a dream, and in times like these, he could not believe that you were married to him.

As far as I can see this is heaven

And speaking just for me, it's ours to share

Nanami releases your hand and wraps both of his arms around your waist, yours instinctively moving to wrap around his neck. He leans forward so slowly until his nose brushes against yours. He feels your arms tighten around him as he brings his lips to press between your eyebrows tenderly. He then kisses your nose and the corner of her mouth before resting his forehead against yours. The blonde hears you release a contented sigh and smiles, proceeding to sway you in his arms as his thumbs rub the small of your back. Your lavender scent fills his senses, sending his mind into a blur. You’re everywhere, in his arms, in his mind, and in his heart. He closes his eyes this time, clinging to this peace and wishing it could last forever.

Perhaps the glow of love will grow with every passing day

He doesn’t want to lose this feeling. This terrible, beautiful, world-altering feeling. He wants to hold onto it, to you, for as long as he can, for he had been alone far too long before you brought light into his existence. Thinking back to a time when work occupied his loneliness when he didn't have your face to study in the mornings as the sun peaked shyly through the curtains, when he didn't have your stories to listen to as you rambled on about whatever your sophisticated mind was overanalyzing, or when he didn't have you to simply love and respect wholeheartedly; it made him wonder how he had come so far without you by his side.

Nanami goes to bed each night pleading the universe not to take you, his lovely wife, away from him. You’re perfect; kind and understanding, far too perfect for this wounded planet. You work too hard and care too much for others, and he even finds your flaws are beautifully imperfect. To even think about your perfection, how perfectly you fit into his life and into his home choked him up and tightened his throat with gratitude.

Or we may never meet again

But then, it's not for me to say

You can feel Nanami’s emotional thoughts as you look up at him curiously. Your hands move to hold his cheeks daintily, finding a better angle to look at his loving, thoughtful expression. You coo softly at the vision of him, whipped for you just as you are for him. You stroke his hair deftly, eyes scanning every familiar mark and handsome curve in his features. His glossy eyes meet yours in the midst of your touch, and no words are spoken. Only gazes were exchanged.

He watches you intensely as you lean upward to close the distance, breaths fanning against each other’s lips. Your lips meet his in a chaste peck, his hands instinctively pressing further into her waist. You tilt your head and kiss the corner of his jaw next, and find yourself stifling a quiet giggle when you notice the imprint of your lipstick on his skin. The sound of your laughter sends a jolt to Nanami’s heart and dries his mouth, and he can’t fight the grin creeping onto his face within a matter of seconds, for absolutely anything you do makes him so wholly and indescribably happy. You make him feel like a damn teenager, or the kind of teen he would have been if he had not been negatively impacted by his experience at Jujutsu High, but that was all in the past. You are his present and his future. You are everything.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck and squeal when your feet suddenly leave the ground and your body is spun around giddily.

And speaking just for me, it's ours to share

Perhaps the glow of love will grow with every passing day

Love is such a feeble word for what you two share, for it’s impossible to stuff the amount of time spent in each other’s arms, the plethora of stressed and exhausted tears shed, the range of sleepless nights you spent waiting your husband to return home anxiously, the meaningless arguments sparked by miscommunicated frustration and passion, the hardships overcome, and the way your souls bonded together throughout nights of prolonged passion into one, stupid made up word. A little word could never encapsulate the whole of the feeling Nanami experiences any time your skin touches his, or the complete security and luxury you feel under the protection of his affectionate gaze. What you have is more than love. More than any kind of emotion that can be searched online or found in a dictionary. More than you and him, more than the earth, more than the very universe.

So you slow dance in your living room. soaking in one another because it is all you can do to say more than “I love you.”

Or we may never meet again

But then, it's not for me to say

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baldval · 6 months ago

Note

Could you do individual head cannons of Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Niffty, and Husk's responses to a female reader asking to play with their hair?

PLAYING W THEIR HAIR!₊˚⊹♡

characters: charlie, vaggie, angel dust, niffty, husk

warnings: any of these could be read as platonic or romantic!!

a/n: the headcanons constantly change between general headcanons to more story-like depending on the character??? i just did whatever i felt like doing sorry if that feels confusing

CHARLIE:

ᯓ charlie is a busy girl

ᯓ and with everything that's been going on at the hotel, she most definitely needs some rest

ᯓ so just imagine her at her desk

ᯓ there are papers everywhere, on the floor, around her, under her

ᯓ she thought she’d only rest her eyes for a moment

ᯓ you cannot help but run your fingers through her hair as you walk by, wanting to brush it away from her eyes

ᯓ it will tickle otherwise

ᯓ you don’t want to wake her

ᯓ you know she needs rest

ᯓ but how can you resist when she looks so beautiful, softly breathing in her peaceful slumber

ᯓ and so your body moves of its own accord

ᯓ she lets out a small moan, her eyes flickering open in quizzical confusion

ᯓ and you retract your hand, hoping she’ll go back to dozing if you can just walk away silently enough

ᯓ long, warm fingers instantly grab at you, guiding your hand back to the soft, silky locks on her head

ᯓ “don’t stop,” she murmurs with a blissful smile on her face as her eyes close once more

VAGGIE:

ᯓ you can't help it

ᯓ you love playing with vaggie's hair as much as she lets you

ᯓ which is often, because she secretly loves it

ᯓ even if she won't admit it, vaggie sometimes craves the feeling of your fingers running through her hair

ᯓ in her defense, you have gentle hands

ᯓ for you, it's because her hair is soft

ᯓ and all too "sweepable"

ᯓ and you often brush the strands away from her eyes

ᯓ especially during lazy moments lying in bed, or canoodled on the couch

ᯓ other times, you'll lay against her chest, letting the rise and fall of her breath move you

ᯓ and you'll unconsciously reach up to toy with the soft ends of her hair

ᯓ or she'll occasionally allow herself to lay in your lap while you have your way

ANGEL DUST:

ᯓ angel loves when you play with his hair

ᯓ it's amazing how he immediately leans into your touch

ᯓ without any doubt, he's at his most relaxed when he feels the gentle sweep of your fingers

ᯓ could be in his hair, massaging his head, stroking his face or his neck

ᯓ although there's something about your fingers combing through his hair that just makes him feel so... soft

ᯓ and you know he loves it

ᯓ it's gotten to the point where you do it almost absently, out of habit

ᯓ sometimes he even falls asleep at your ministrations

ᯓ but he's also very aware of your touch

ᯓ in general, he's all too self-aware when it comes to people touching him/drawing within his personal space

ᯓ could be a consequence of all the abuse he's gone through, though he doesn't acknowledge it

ᯓ you don't even realise this, but you're helping him just with your calming touch.

ᯓ it comforts both of you, if in different ways.

NIFFTY:

ᯓ niffty is the type of person who just LOVES her hair

ᯓ she keeps it always knotless and almost impossibly clean

ᯓ she won't really let anyone touch it in fear of seeing it messy

ᯓ however there are some exceptions

ᯓ one of them being you, of course

ᯓ one day you comment how good she would look with two pigtail braids

ᯓ she turns to look at you

ᯓ "why, thank you! i just... i don't really know how to braid my hair"

ᯓ and so you offer to braid it for her

ᯓ and she accepts

ᯓ and she LOVES it

ᯓ not only the final result but also the way her head feels as your fingers separate her hair and start combing through it

ᯓ so from now on, whenever niffty is feeling like it, she'll ask if you can braid her hair

ᯓ and you'll accept it

ᯓ and you'll both love it

HUSK:

ᯓ when you first realised how much husk loved when you played with his hair, you were surprised

ᯓ because he loves LOVES it

ᯓ so let’s say you’re sitting on a chair or couch or whatever and he’s chilling on the ground between your legs while you guys watch a movie or show

ᯓ and suddenly, just because it looks so fluffy, you reach out and comb your fingers through his hair

ᯓ first time you do it he tilts his head all the way back to look quizzically at you

ᯓ and you apologize but he’s like “no no no- do it again”

ᯓ and you do and he sighs happily and puts his head back down

ᯓ as you get more comfortable with it and roam your fingers across his scalp

ᯓ and gently scratch his scalp he nearly starts purring

ᯓ generally, his body oozes with pleasure

ᯓ i’m talkin shoulders slumping, muscles relaxing, he probably goes kinda dead-weight

ᯓ when he relaxes his neck his head kinda flops either to the side or backward

ᯓ so either into your lap or against your knee or thigh.

ᯓ he can be pretty vocal about it too

ᯓ like a heavy but content sigh, or really long hum, or praises

ᯓ and when you play with his hair just the right way it’s all of the above

350 notes · View notes

yan-lorkai · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! :) I just really love all of your works for Hellsing and an idea popped into my mind. Could you write an Alucard x darling!Reader where Integra sends them on a mission to Brazil in disguise as a newlyweds on their honeymoon? I'm just sooo obsessed with his Riocard look, I thought it would be so fun to imagine! <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: To be honest I get you anon. He is so handsome in his RioCard form, with his little glass full of blood and wearing that suit 🤭💕💕. @marieisaghost

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, reader is unsettled by Alucard but both of them keep flirting with one another lol, mention of killing, gn!reader

"Lulu, you travel a lot, don't you?" You turn your face to stare at him, gorgeous smile already on his lips as soon as that little nickname left you. "What is it like in Brazil? How are the people?"

He thought about. Ancient as he was, Alucard was present to see or hear about all major events from humanity. And later on, to visit those same countries, as you two are doing now - hunting for a potentially dangerous vampire who climbed the stairs to the success, he was so important now, so powerful but Integra had her way of getting you and Alucard into one of his big parties.

After a few seconds pondering, Alucard glanced at his glass full of blood, long, dark hair hiding his eyes from you as he chuckled.

"The air smells like golden hour and the birds sing so loud, as if they wish for you to sing among them. The Brazilians are like fairies, if you will, as they can't lie but contour whatever promise they made with polite words and jokes. And the common folk are very affectionate." He sipped from his glass, little trinket of blood running down his lower lip before he could lick it. You laughed at that. "And their words sounds like a gentle song, so familiar yet so distante you can't quite remember where you have heard it."

The gentle hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin, the dim lighting casting soft shadows against the sleek leather seats. You sat beside Alucard, watching the clouds drift by through the small window. A moment goes by before you answer him.

"Quiet poetical, don't you think?" You mused, imagining the country based on his description. "Well, I'm looking forward to see it. We will be able to sightsee after the mission is done, right?"

Alucard turned his head slowly, he was still sipping from his glass, sometimes just shaking it to see the red liquid sway gently. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. He always found your mortal, innocent optimism endearing — if not a bit naive. But he never discouraged it outright. No, he enjoyed watching you dangle the idea of freedom, without realizing he was the one holding the string.

He was the one who chose you for this role. So beautiful and all his, pretending to be his cute little spouse.

“Sightseeing?” Alucard repeated, his voice low, filled with the silky cadence you knew too well. He leaned back further into his seat, fingers steepled together as if considering your words. “That all depends. If the mission goes well and... if you behave, darling.”

You shifted uncomfortably, pretending to be preoccupied with the view outside. Sometimes Alucard took his jokes too far, the line between truth and joke unclear.

“Well, I just thought… if we’re pretending to be newlyweds, we might as well enjoy the facade a little more!” You explained your point of view, trying to sound casual. “A little sightseeing wouldn’t hurt. Husband.”

Alucard’s chuckle was soft but dark, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a beautiful sound yet terrifying in other circumstances. “Oh, you’ve been enjoying this facade more than you admit, darling” He teased, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Playing the role of my beloved spouse… It suits you.”

His words were laced with a possessiveness that you couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you tried to maintain composure under his piercing gaze. Alucard thrived on your uncertainty — on the way you balanced between curiosity and frustration in equal measures. He loved seeing you struggle. You knew that. He was an asshole like that sometimes.

“Maybe,” You replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper and your face heating up. Ultimately it was better to let him have this little win or he'll pout and throw a tantrum the entire time. “But it’s hard to keep up the act sometimes, you’re very convincing. I fear I won't be as convincing as you are.”

Alucard’s smile widened, a dark, predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. He leaned toward you, his cold fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a delicate yet possessive touch. He seemed like he wanted to say something, a secret passing through his eyes, black long hair hiding his face like a curtain, and then he pulled back.

“Rest now, my love,” Alucard said, his voice softer as he reclined back in his seat but the command was clear. "We still have a few hours until we get there. And perhaps, I’ll indulge you with that sightseeing you’re so fond. There's so very interesting places that are open at night.”

You rolled your eyes. "Aye aye captain."

Yoou reached out, your hand sliding around his arm and tugging him toward you. His eyes widened slightly, not in surprise but in curiosity. You didn’t say a word, there was no need. All that mattered was the closeness, the warmth, even if it came from the cold embrace of a vampire. Without a word, you rested your head against his arm, and he allowed you to whatever you wanted, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he watched you for a few seconds.

/⁠～⁠♡

The private plane had landed hours ago, and the sun now hung low on the horizon, casting the hotel room in a warm, golden glow. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the fabric of your outfit, a carefully chosen disguise for the next phase of the mission. The luxurious suite you were in felt almost too extravagant, too different from what you were used but trying to argument with Alucard was near impossível. And he wanted to stay at the most expensive place just for the sake of it.

Greedy vampire, you thought, he wouldn't even be able to sleep. After all, he's used to sleep at morning and you, as a Hellsing soldier, is more than used to sleep in whatever you can lie on during night. Extravagance was not your style.

Behind you, Alucard moved with quiet grace, his eyes fixed on you in the mirror. He had already shed his coat, his shirt untucked slightly, looking every bit the devilish rogue he was. He stepped closer, slipping a gloved hand around your waist, guiding you as you fumbled with the buttons on your collar.

"Let me," He asked, his voice low and smooth, as he brushed your hands away and began fastening the buttons for you. His fingers worked skillfully, but his touch lingered a bit too long. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

"You know, I can dress myself," You teased him, raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror.

"Of course you can," Alucard replied with a smirk, not missing a beat. "But why would I miss the chance to enjoy this view?" His hands slid up to adjust the collar, his eyes flickering with amusement.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Alucard chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in just a bit closer. "I’m many things, love. Impossible is only one of them." He finished with the last button, his hands lingering on your shoulders, fingers tracing the fabric as though he couldn’t help but touch you. You turned slightly to face him, a playful glint in your eyes.

"So husband, what's the plan?" You teased him, emphasizing the word, adjusting your sleeves as he watched you with that ever-present intensity. "Or you're just want to take care of everything alone while I stay helpless by your side, like a damsel?."

Alucard raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Playing the damsel role certainly is fun but not safe. Besides it's counterproductive. I'II catch our target while you search his office for those documents."

You nodded, trying to think of ways to enter the target's office, but the warmth in Alucard's eyes made it impossible. His thumb traced small circles against your waist, and though you hated to admit it, his presence was comforting in moments like these, when the mission loomed large and the stakes were high. He knew how you soothe your worries and fears with just a few gestures.

"Focus, Alucard," You said, but your voice lacked any real conviction.

"I am focused," He replied smoothly, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Just… not on the mission right now."

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him just a little, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. "You’re incorrigible."

His eyes gleamed as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, teasing purr. "And you love it."

You laughed softly, shaking your head again as you turned back toward the mirror. "You’re lucky you’re helping with this mission. Otherwise, I’d leave you to flirt with yourself.

Alucard chuckled, stepping back slightly, though his hand never left your waist. "Oh, I can flirt with myself just fine. But it’s much more fun with you."

You met his gaze in the mirror, your reflection showing the playful tension between you two. Despite everything, the danger, the complexity of your relationship, moments like this felt oddly natural. Easy, even.

"Fine," you said, adjusting the last piece of your outfit and putting your weapons in their proper places. "After this mission and you taking me to sightsee, you should really take me on a date, Alucard. I wouldn't say no."

Alucard’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. "Whatever you want, darling. But until then…" His eyes sparkled mischievously. "We make quite the team, don’t we?"

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite the chaos, despite the danger, there was something undeniably magnetic about being at his side. Even if he drove you crazy half the time and acted strange sometimes.

"Yeah," You said with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "We do."

The night air was crisp as you stepped out of the grand hotel, the city’s lights reflecting off the polished black limousine waiting at the curb. The distant hum of life in the city created a soft backdrop of noise, but here, in front of the sleek vehicle, everything felt quieter, more intimate. Alucard, as always, had his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guided you toward the car.

“After you, love,” He said smoothly, his voice laced with amusement as he opened the door for you. His crimson eyes gleamed under the streetlights, and even in the dim evening, he looked effortlessly sharp in his tailored suit, dark and dangerously handsome.

You gave him a playful smirk before slipping into the limousine’s spacious interior. The leather seats were cool against your skin as you settled in, and a faint, luxurious scent lingered in the air. Alucard followed, closing the door behind him as he took the seat beside you.

As the driver began pulling away from the curb, the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Alucard stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder in a way that felt casual yet intentional.

“Excited?” hHe asked, his voice low and teasing as his eyes flickered to yours. “Or is it nerves I sense?”

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes slightly. “Excited isn’t the word I’d use. This is a mission, remember? Focus, Alucard.”

He chuckled, his hand sliding down to lightly squeeze your shoulder. “I’m always focused. It’s you who seems to be on edge, dragul meu.” His voice was a playful murmur, but there was that undercurrent of seriousness you knew all too well. He thrived in these high-stakes situations, while you, well, you preferred a little less danger and a little more simplicity.

You preferred a better plan, you preferred having more allies. Yet, you had to make it do with just Alucard by your side. Either way, you knew he wouldn't let you hurt yourself.

“I’m not on edge,” You retorted lightly, turning to face him fully. “I’m just thinking about the plan. We’re supposed to be subtle, blend in, gather intel. You remember the whole ‘don’t draw attention to ourselves’ part, right?”

Alucard’s lips curled into that familiar, devilish smirk. “Subtlety isn’t always the most fun, but I suppose I can behave for one night.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course, if things get boring, I might have to… stir the pot a little.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I prefer the term ‘charming,’” He corrected you, eyes gleaming mischievously.

The limousine cruised through the city, the lights outside glowing brighter as you approached the heart of the bustling nightlife. The party you were heading to was in one of the city’s most elite venues — a towering glass building that loomed in the distance, sparkling against the night sky. The event was exclusive, crawling with high-society types, all hiding secrets beneath their polished exteriors. You and Alucard were here to uncover one of those secrets.

As the limousine neared the grand entrance, you adjusted your clothes, making sure everything was in place. Alucard watched you with an almost predatory gleam in his eyes, though there was a softness in the way his gaze lingered.

“You look stunning,” He murmured, his voice softer now, devoid of the usual teasing edge. “They won’t know what hit them.”

You met his eyes, feeling a flutter in your chest despite yourself. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirked, leaning in just a bit closer. “Just ‘not so bad?’ I think I deserve more credit than that.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Let’s just get through this without any chaos, alright? Then I’ll give you all the credit you want.”

The limousine came to a smooth stop in front of the towering venue, the driver stepping out to open the door for you both. Alucard was out first, offering his hand to help you out, his grip firm but gentle. As you stepped out onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd were already starting.

He pulled you close, his arm slipping around your waist as you both made your way toward the entrance. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you, commanding and magnetic.

“We’ll be the perfect couple tonight,” Alucard whispered into your ear as you ascended the stairs, his breath warm against your skin. “Just follow my lead.”

You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a small smile. “I’m used to that by now.”

With that, you both stepped through the grand doors into the glittering party, where the real game was about to begin.

#alucard x you #hellsing ultimate alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #alucard x reader #yandere alucard #alucard #yandere alucard x y/n #yandere alucard x you #yandere alucard x reader #alucard x y/n #soft yandere #male yadere #lorkai drabble

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wyvernest · 1 year ago

Note

would you be able to write something about chubby!reader having body issues and thinks she doesn’t deserve miguel because he’s so sculpted and beautiful, but miguel reminds her how perfect she is? (in whatever way you think is best)

i just love reading these types of fics and they really help boost my confidence 🥹

tysm! <3

hope you like it<3

aphrodite

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: fluff, established relationship, body dysmorphia

summary: you start feeling self conscious right before your date, and miguel isn't having any of it

translations are at the end

Miguel had finally made time to take you out. You are well aware of the fact that he is a busy man, and had decided against pressuring him to abandon his work overtime.

But tonight was for you. He had planned out the perfect date, from the restaurant, reservations, to the tiniest details; what day would be best in terms of weather, your job, and his duties.

To say you were overwhelmed with excitement was an understatement. He had always been so caring and considerate, looking for ways to make you feel valued and appreciated even when time itself stood against his efforts. Finding unadulterated joy in asking you out like it was your first time getting closer to each other over and over again, the 'honeymoon phase' spark never once leaving your relationship, contrary to popular belief.

And so here you are, in your shared home, getting ready for yet another date with the most handsome man you've ever seen.

He's already fully dressed, fixing himself in the mirror. His black suit sits oh-so perfectly on him, hugging the shape of his large back and shoulders, tight enough around his biceps, so that they still bulge through the material when he brings a hand up in his hair to tame some dark strands that had fallen out of place. It accentuates the line of his abdomen, having his large thighs finish off the whole look.

He stands in front of the bedroom mirror, in his striking royal height, the man that ancient Greeks probably had as a muse when they sculpted the ideals of the male body. His dark, cocoa brown hair is brushed back, silky and soft. His perfectly contoured face is dimly lit by the low, warm bedroom lights, his features prominent: the bridge and line of his nose, squinted piercing eyes along with a downright intimidating set of brows His sharp jaw is held up high while he works with his tie, expert hands skillfully experimenting around an array of various knots, pondering upon which fits best.

He truly is quite the sight, you melt at the tableau before you, holding back a sigh seasoned with nothing but the very heights of being irrevocably enamoured.

His whole presence screams strength and mature dominance, with a hint of incontestable luxury.

Resuming your own outfit, your own body still only adorned in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra, you head to the closet for the one dress you have been imagining yourself in for the whole week since he offered you the invitation. You couldn’t be more excited to finally try it on and admire yourself with it, have people look your way while wearing it, with an arm hooked around the one and only Miguel O’Hara.

Putting it on and adjusting its stretchy fabric over your curves, your smile starts to fade. This isn’t what it looked like the first time I tried it on, you mentally conclude, and the more you look at it, the more things you wish you hadn’t noticed. You pull at the material, the hem, the sides, the neckline, anything you can think of that maybe, just maybe, could fix it. Panic starts to drip into your nerves, what will you do now if it just won’t look good? Screw it and go out with it anyway, and then feel all eyes on you for the rest of the evening? What will people think when they see you, merely decent, next to him? And otherwise, what other option is there? To pick some other dress that can’t possibly be more appropriate for the occasion, since you had bought this one specifically for the place you’re going, and still not look the part?

Your breathing starts to quicken as you keep fumbling with the textile around your shape, attention half directed to the open wardrobe, scanning every shelf and hanger for a second option.

Suddenly, the floor creaks, bringing the echo of incoming footsteps. And there he is, standing behind you, hands on your tense shoulders. You almost despise the image before you; his impeccable, calm and stoic image, next to you, discouraged and deeply insecure in evident comparison.

“What were you thinking about just now?” his words river down over the shell of your ear on a hot breath that has shivers shot down your spine.

“Nothing, I’m getting ready”, you cover it up in a sing-song voice, not wanting to dig deeper into letting him know that you don’t deem yourself pretty enough for him, let alone expect him to find you more attractive than you do yourself. Unfortunately, he’s too smart for your little diversion.

“Don’t lie to me.”, his tone serious, voice deep. His eyes rank up and down your body in the mirror, and you feel an acute need to just disappear. “Que guapa.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, and you feel rosy heat rise to your face.

Your mouth speaks before you think.

“Does it look good?”, he senses the hesitancy in your voice.

“Baby, you’d look like a goddess wearing a potato sack.” he speaks matter-of-factly, as if his statement equals water is wet, the honesty in his declaration evident with the speed with which the words left his mouth. You can’t help but let a giggle break through your disconcerted face, surprised with the association.

“What, like Marilyn Monroe?”

“No, mi alma, like you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you back into his embrace as you look at eachother in the reflection before you. His expression softens, visibly relaxed and happy to have you close to him.

“These curves, every part of you, I know them as I know myself.” His palms slide over your hips, and all the way back up to your shoulders, effectively chasing away any hint of doubt and worry, cleansing you of anything that isn’t love.

“Eres la mujer de mis sueños.” He bends down, his lips reaching the crook of your neck. “No hay nadie como tú."

You let yourself fall back into his tempting embrace, knowing that he’s exploiting your weakness for him speaking Spanish so low and deep into the vulnerable skin of your pulse point, completely forgetting about the date and the dress.

“And if you don’t like the dress, I’ll gladly rip it off.” He exhibits his talons as a warning, the curved edges of the claws grazing your bare shoulders intently. “If anything, the dress isn’t good enough to be worn by you.”

translations:

que guapa - how beautiful

mi alma - my soul

eres la mujer de mis sueños - you're the woman of my dreams

no hay nadie como tú - there is no one like you

a/n: again, if any native speakers see anything wrong with my Spanish please let me know🤍

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader

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yndrgrl · 1 year ago

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your classmate, yandere! bakugou, is deeply & utterly infatuated w/ shy, little you, & he isn't afraid to tell you just how much you occupy his mind.

fem! reader. quirkless! au. ooc! bakugou. long ass fic. soft! yandere.

a/n: based on this video (https://youtu.be/BoHAw_pEtOA), i'm literally OBSESSED w/ it. it's like, imagine being so stunning to someone that you're on their mind 24/7 like GAHHH WHAT.

warnings: slightly disturbing content, nsfw, dirty talk, stalking, swearing, very much "joe goldberg" vibes, smut asf, male masturbation, degrading, sexsexsex, gagging, praise

youtube

----

you are sweet. you are a gentle, kind soul-- so shy & reserved. to the big, bad katsuki bakugou, you are truly eye-catching. the way you didn't draw attention to yourself & yet would say the most profound things during online discussion posts made him wonder what was going on in that cute, little head of yours.

the way you're just the complete opposite of him made him crave you.

the first time he noticed you, you walked through the classroom door with your bulky headphones on that were clearly a part of your first-day-of-school outfit. enthralled was the only way he could describe how he felt. maybe shocked as well. how could someone so beautiful just walk into class?

he scoffed at his own thoughts, knowing damn well if he heard kirishima or denki say anything like that, he would've rolled his eyes. if she's beautiful, he thought, then she must have a terrible personality that i don't want to get to know.

unluckily -but also luckily- you were assigned the seat right beside him. you, with your pearly, white teeth, flashed him a courteous smile. you placed your bag on the floor, shrunk into your seat, & pulled out your binder.

what. a. nerd. katsuki laughed in his head. he could already read you like a book, he believed. a goody-two-shoes who stutters after every word, no confidence, & lives in her own little bubble, is what he deducted.

& yet he couldn't help but notice how fragrant your perfume smelled. it reminds him of a time when he was at peace, without a worry in the world. "god, how much perfume does a girl need," katsuki loudly said.

it took you a second to register that, beyond the music playing through the speakers of your headphones, there was a voice muffled. slipping your headphones down around your neck, you questioned, "i'm sorry, did you say something?"

"whatever," katsuki mumbled beside you. you felt bad, not meaning to ignore him. however, before you got the chance to apologize, the bell rang, & the professor walked to the front of the classroom. a professor that he could already tel he would hate, by the way.

that was the first day of the semester.

katsuki saw you everywhere after that. it's not like he wanted to or anything. the campus should have been big enough for the both of you, but it wasn't. he would see you at lunch with your goody-goody friends, or walking back to your dorm building with your heavy bag, or in different classes that you didn't sit with him.

one day, as the days grew slightly colder, katsuki needed to blow off some steam. he didn't know what was making him pent up. correction: he didn't want to admit that he knew why he was all pent up. since when can a person can make the great katsuki bakugou pent up?

since the first day of the semester, that's when.

bakugou, in a tight-fitting compression shirt & sweatpants, sauntered into the campus gym with his army green duffel bag slung over his shoulder. at this time of day -that being 6 in the morning- the gym was bare. only the early birds & forced athletes occupied the gym.

& apparently, so did nerds.

there you were, in all your glory. you wore black leggings that accentuated your legs. your silky, soft hair held up by a clear claw clip. your beaten up converse told the story that you are an avid gym-goer.

stationed in front of one of the only squat wracks that had a window view, the morning sunlight gazed upon your features. the soft hue made bakugou choke on his own spit. as he gawked your stature, he watched as you took sips from your water bottle. then he watched as you went to the bar, ducked under, & got ready to squat. he felt something twitch as you began your set.

"hey, bakugou~" a feminine voice spoke, causing him to almost jump. he shifted his bag so it hung in front of him. "whatcha doooing?"

"mina, what does it look like?" he scoffed.

"it looks like you were staring at-"

he cut her off. "i wasn't staring at anyone. it's just weird to see nerds like her in the gym."

"nerds like her?" she questioned, then she quickly changed the subject, "whatever, you're gonna work out with me & kiri, right?"

after that, bakugou deducted you were an anomaly. he learned how kind & attentive you are when he just so happened to read a text you sent out between you & a friend. he learned how confident you truly can be when you believe it's just you-- no eyes looking at you. he learned that your reputation was the opposite of his.

you see, bakugou was rough around the edges, to put it softly. he wore edgy clothing that made heads turn, thanks to his fashion designer parents, of course. he was proud to show off how big his muscles were & how many tattoos & scars littered his skin. he often skipped lectures, which didn't matter in the end because of his high scores on the exams.

on the other hand, you were just a beam of heaven-gate sunlight. always getting the best grades, acing tests, showing up on time, & taking pretty notes with pens, no need for pencils because you never mess up. you were also quiet, almost seeming untouchable.

the first time he caught himself truly thinking about you was late at night. he fell asleep on his dorm bed after a day of ditching classes. soon, images popped into the black void. it was a blur, colors mashing together until it was clear. there you stood, a gasp escaping your pink lips. it was as though he was watching a movie of himself.

he touched your body, scorching your skin with a red blush. he squeezed your thighs, your ass, your tits. nowhere left untouched, & you liked it. your fingers tangled themselves into his blonde tresses. you pulled him closer & begged in his ear to stick his heavy cock into your sopping pussy.

he awoke, breath heavy & a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. his dick was still incredibly hard. it was almost painful. his roommate/classmate/best buddy, kirishima already left for his early morning class & wouldn't be back until later that afternoon. katsuki knew that.

in hopes to dull the pain, he took his cock into his hand & started jerking it. though it helped, he needed something more. he took a breath, & with his other hand, he unlocked his phone & went onto instagram-- your instagram.

the most recent picture you posted was from summer. it was a college of the outfits you wore & activities you've done before fall semester. his favorite one was a candid your friend must've took. you were on the beach surrounded by people katsuki didn't care about. you were in such a scandalous swim suit that left little to the imagination. it was taken from behind so it shamelessly displayed how your swim bottoms did nothing but cover your important bits.

god, what he would do to you if he ever saw you in the swimsuit. he would bend you over, slip your bikini bottoms to the side (because he couldn't waste any time taking it off) & fuck you senseless in front of everyone. he would make you clean off his dick with that pretty, little mouth of yours. he would-

he came. he came all over his abs, & yet his cock was still throbbing. still beating for you. "shit," he whispered. as much as he hated it, katsuki was often self aware of his emotions. it's a nerdy thing to do, he knows. however, after finishing to the thought of you, he knows that he's obsessed with you, & there's nothing he can do so why fight it?

it was another day, another lecture. there sat katsuki, slumped in his seat before you even entered the class. as you did, he watched as your beautiful eyes connected with his & widen with shock. he hasn't been in class in a week, there was no big exam in class, so you were curious why he even showed up.

walking towards your desk with your eyes averted to the floor, katsuki took your figure in. he still couldn't get over how your fashion sense reflected your personality, your aura, perfectly. you seemed so comfortable, nearly confident & he loved it.

you knew he was staring; it would've been unnerving if it were anyone else. however, you found katsuki unbelievably attractive. you were flattered-- of course. what if i'm just being delusional, you wondered, denying that he was looking at you. curiosity would've gotten the better of you if you could hold eye contact though.

you sat in your seat beside him. as per usual, you took out your binder of notes, your colored pens, & placed your headphones around your neck like you do every day in this class. the professor announced that, because it is a communications class, it's important that everyone communicates. the assignment was to create a simple, few-slide presentation introducing your passion project for the rest of the year. dedication at its finest, everyone. it was an easy assignment that required nothing but a few sentences pulled out of your ass & a slides template you can download online.

as soon as he was done with his expectations for it, he let his students loose. the professor was clearly not in the mood to teach for whatever reason. you considered it a blessing because you have stacks of homework & a pile of laundry waiting for you after classes.

you pulled out your laptop you've had since forever. after signing in, you started immediately on the project. it's better to get it out of the way then to forget about it, you told yourself.

you were about to slip your headphones back on when someone questioned, "what are you doing yours on?"

it took you a second to realize it was your deskmate. it took you two to realize he was talking to you.

"um... i'm sorry?" you looked at him, confused. you didn't have any friends in this class. not that you minded.

the blonde hard head scoffed & said, "god, are you deaf? what are you doing your project about?"

"oh, um," you looked back at your computer. the blinking edit line taunting you. "i don't really know yet."

"tch, really? we're almost a month into this class," he responded. "i expected a nerd like you to be already on the last assignment for the year."

"i-i haven't really found the time, i guess."

"yeah right, don't sweat it with an explanation, nerd."

there was a silence, a silence you decided to fill.

"... what's your project about?"

"none of your damn business," he said back. that's your sign you never talk in the class again.

"hm right, just asking," you muttered, going back to brainstorming ideas you could build upon for the next year that doesn't sound too niche. or maybe you want to do something so niche that no one would know if you were right or wrong. so many options.

"i'm gonna do mine on chemical explosives."

he was talking to you again. does that mean he wants to talk with you? only you? you were looking to far into it, but you couldn't help but blush.

"oh wow, that's pretty hardcore," you responded quietly, as not to disrupt everyone else's small conversations. "what made you choose that?"

"it's a passion project; that's a passion of mine," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. he was so reserved, it only added to his bad boy charm.

you took a deep breath, deciding to -for the first time in your college life- to put yourself out there & pointed out, "the curriculum says we have to present our projects to someone of our choosing... would you want to present it to each other?"

fireworks.

you asked that & it felt as though fireworks blew up in katsuki's heart. his stoic face didn't show just how excited he was that you were the one to ask him. if you asked him to be his partner, then you've clearly been thinking of him, & if you're thinking of him, you're practically all his, &-

"yeah, whatever. you better have an interesting passion project."

that was the very first, full-blown conversation the two of you shared.

katsuki replays that moment in his head, thinks about what he should've said differently, about how he would've made a move if the two of you were alone (which he probably wouldn't have).

you ran even more rampantly in his mind. every thought crossed back to you. he constantly wondered how you were doing, what were you doing, who you were with. it drove him mad, giving him a headache. there was no medication he could take to soothe it. he found that he was only at ease when you were in sight or ear shot.

you were his clarity, & what sane person lets their clarity go? it started out small & in such a subconscious way.

katsuki was wandering the campus as he waited for his friends to get out of class when he spotted you. you must have a thing for windows because you sat on a lounge chair facing the grand window in the library. you were focused on your computer screen, so unaware of your surroundings. your brows furrowed, probably thinking about your passion project. your earbuds played whatever podcast you decided to listen to.

so, you're studying by yourself, katsuki took a mental note of that. when he did, he felt the pressure on his temples relieve. he entered the library for no other reason than you. you didn't notice him, why would you? he sat on a table behind you with his phone in his hand. katsuki's ruby eyes darted around the library before opening his camera & snapping a quick photo of you. he told himself that it would be the last time he would take a photo of you like that.

he lied to himself.

as the school year continued on, his private folder of sneaky pictures of you only grew & grew. at first, it was once every so often, but addiction kills, & he just couldn't stop.

the change that came with you was noticeable. the usually brash & unpredictable katsuki was now collected & cool. one thing that didn't change was the permanent scowl etched on his face.

his friends could see through his one-note facial expression. so it was only natural that, during a hangout in one of the dorms, they would ask, "you good?"

"yeah, why wouldn't i be?" katsuki retorted, popping a hot cheeto into his mouth while he focused on the small tv screen. katsuki wanted nothing more than to have you under his arm at the moment.

denki chimed in, "well it's just that you haven't called anyone stupid yet."

"thought you guys would be happy i didn't insult you," he rolled his eyes.

"bakubro, you can tell us anything. we've all gone through a lot together-" kirishima was cut off.

"yeah i know, there's just nothing to tell."

katsuki noticed his friends glance at each other, unconvinced. he supposes he can't blame them; he is acting so strangely afterall.

"how do i say this-" kirishima (poor man) was cut off again-- this time by mina.

"do you like someone?" she snickered. out of all the things she could've asked, that was one of the last things he thought she would ask.

"what? no! i don't like anyone," he said defensively.

"then are you lonely? i can set you up with someone," mina pulled out her phone & started pulling up a picture of said someone, "let me show you her."

"no i'm not lonely either, raccoon eyes! it's none of your damn business!" he shouted, honestly sickened at the thought of being intimate & romantic with someone who wasn't you.

"are you sure~?" mina dragged the last word out in a sing-songy voice.

"yes."

"don't be mad-"

"what the fuck did you do?"

"i already invited her," mina chuckled, quickly stuffing her phone into her back pants pocket.

"WHAT?" katsuki shouted. what would you think? would you even care?

"listen, she's a really sweet girl, & i think that-" mina's defenses were cut short by the angry hot head.

"i don't care, tell her she's uninvited or something." it really wasn't that difficult.

mina stayed silent. katsuki already knew why. as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. "i was only kidding with you, ya big baby. i just invited another girl, no date required," mina joked. she muttered right after, "hopefully you two will hit it off so you're not so grumpy."

kirishima opened the door right as bakugou yelled, "what was that, you pinkie pie bitch?" the sakura-haired girl waved him off, popping to her feet to greet her guest.

she cheered, "y/n!" mina threw her hands up & stepped towards you for a hug. katsuki's head snapped towards the door, cheeks slightly pink because he knew that you heard his outburst.

"hi, mina" you softly said, accepting the hug. you wore loungewear; you wore a black crew neck with a rib cage vinyl design & shorts. "thanks for inviting me."

"of course! let me introduce you to everyone!" she ushered you inside the dorm room, & kirishima shut the door behind you. "that one," she points to the man who shut the door, "is kirishima." he smiled his classic, toothy grin. "that's sero, right next to him is denki," she said. they both -with mouths stuffed with snacks & hands occupied with controllers- said a brief "hi."

"& that one is-"

"i know her already." katsuki had a habit of cutting off his friends. was it polite? no, not in the slightest. did he care? no, he did not. "we're classmates."

"oh, um... i didn't know you were gonna be here," you admitted, cheeks flushed in shock.

"oi! you stalking me now, nerd?"

"no, not at all!" you quickly defended. you really didn't know he was going to be sitting in front of you, he knew that.

mina stepped in, "be nice to her, bakugou! i'm trying to make new friends, remember?"

"yeah, yeah, i remember you yappin' about it," bakugou responded as he laid back onto the dorm bed. he felt your eyes on him. just your mere attention got him riled up. he didn't know how to handle it. he felt as though he were burning up. his eyes shot towards your figure, eyes locking with your deep ones. "quit staring."

"i don't mean to stare-"

"get over yourself, bakubro," kirishima joked. he chucked a throw pillow mina insisted they get to "liven the sad, jail cell of a room."

that night, katsuki couldn't help but stare. hypocrite, he knows. but he just couldn't look away. you were a magnetic force, chipping away at his self-control. even with such modest clothing, he still found himself yearning for your body, your mind, your entire being as you already had his.

time flew by fast. he could tell you were slowly getting used to the dynamic his friend group shared. your shoulders slumped throughout the evening, & you sat without your hands in your lap. denki even got you to play a round of mario kart against mina. though you didn't like being in the spotlight, you thought it was fun seeing everyone's shocked faces after you beat the self-proclaimed queen of nintendo.

the night came to a close after kirishima, denki, & sero passed out on the floor while mina slept on the bed. you fought sleep, eyelids drooping with every passing second.

"tired?" katsuki questioned. he chuckled when you suddenly turned alert.

sheepishly, you confirmed, "yeah, just a bit. i think i'm gonna head back to my dorm."

"waking up your roommate isn't very nice of you," katsuki pointed out.

"my roommate dropped out, & they haven't assigned me a new one."

"is that so?"

you stuffed your keys into your left pocket & your phone in your right before replying, "yeah, lucky me. dorm room all to myself for the semester."

"what building?" dumb question, katsuki already knew what building you lived in.

"building b, floor three," you told him. you stood up & slipped on your slides. "i really should get going. weirdos start coming out at this time."

there was a silence that followed. in katsuki's head, the gears were grinding. never has he thought so much about a decision pertaining another person in his life. would it be too pushy if he walked you back? would he be shitty if he didn't?

"fuck it," he whispered. it was so quiet in the room that you heard him clearly. "let me walk you," he spoke with more clarity.

"you really don't have to!" you didn't know he was going to offer you such a thing. "i mean it, really. i have a mace keychain-" katsuki stood up & threw on a random hoodie that was on his chair as you rambled, tiredness getting to you, "-& i have my phone so i can call the police."

"just shut up & let's go."

the walk, at first, was awkward, to say the least. the night was still, no breeze to dance with the crusting leaves. there was no one in sight, nor were there cars that zoomed past the university.

"if i would've known you were gonna walk me, i would've left earlier," you broke the silence in a hushed voice.

maybe it was because he was still awake hours past his bedtime, but katsuki responded in a softer way than expected. "did you have fun?"

"yes i did," you told him with a small smile.

"then don't worry about it."

he was so sweet to you in that moment that you couldn't help but swoon. cheeks stained pink as you averted your eyes.

katsuki stared at you through his peripheral, catching how you began to mess with the hem of your shirt.

soon enough, the two of you reached the dorm building. katsuki stood there, about to turn around when you quickly whispered, "wanna walk me up?" you gulped. you didn't even know if you could consider him a friend, & now you're practically barking orders at him; what's wrong with-

"of course."

you both reached your room. once again, in that precious voice of yours, you suggested, "you can stay the night here, if you want."

when he remained quiet (due to shock & a growing boner), you back tracked, "w-well because the extra bed is still in here, & you did me a favor so now i owe you, &-"

"i have a confession," he said, "invite me inside."

"o-oh, yeah of course," you stuttered, unlocking the door & opening it for him. you shut the door & locked it. "what do you have to tell me?"

you quickly pulled out another blanket while he sat in a chair.

katsuki experienced some things throughout his life. he experienced fights & competitions & other stupid shenanigans. he's been questioned by cops & dealt with firefighters. however, he's never felt this nervous in front of anyone. his heart leapt into his throat & used his skull as a pounding speaker. he could barely hear his own thoughts. "i don't know how you'll react."

"i won't get mad," you promised, curious. "if that's what you're worried about." you expected that, since it's confession hour or something, he'd reveal things about his past.

"i think about you, y/n." that's not what you were expecting. "i think about you all the fuckin' time."

"w-wha?" what more could you say? from behind, you heard shuffling then warmth & a looming figure. you turned around & met his eyes, trying to find if he was messing with you.

"& i can't stop thinking about you. at first, you were so annoying. with your little outfits & perfume & shit. i found you everywhere i went. i started looking out for you, wondering if you'll show your annoying, pretty face," he confessed. katsuki didn't break eye contact as he sandwiched you between him & your bed.

"you're such a goody-two-shoes. such a fuckin' nerd. but you're the only girl who's ever caught my attention, you know that? why is that?" katsuki's fingertips began to trace your clothed legs then up & under your sweatshirt. he leaned down to your ear, "are you okay with this?"

all you could do is nod, afraid that if you were to speak, it would come out as a mere squeak. he pulled away, staring into your eyes once more with his glowing ruby ones.

"good. i still don't know why it's you. maybe it's cuz of how hard you work, or how disgustingly nice you are no matter what. you're such an angel, & that must make me a demon then," he told you. you felt your entire being light on fire-- cheeks hot, ears red, & you needed to get out of your clothes. "god, let me be the one to taint you, to ruin you."

the blonde pulled you in close to his chest by wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. your hand grazed on a bulge in his pants & he jolted. "you feel that? that's how hard you get me during class."

muffled, you let out, "b-bakugou." & with those big, innocent eyes, you looked up at him.

"it's katsuki, baby."

"katsuki," you corrected yourself before continuing, "you mean all of this, r-right?" you felt tears well up & your throat tightening when you began thinking it was all a joke.

his love-drunk expression shifted into an offended one. "you think i'm sayin' all this shit cuz i think it's funny?"

"i-i don't know."

rough yet lovingly, he grabbed your chin & leaned in, noses centimeters away from each other. "this is real to me, & it will be real to you."

your gaze darted to his eyes, furrowed brows, his moonlit hair, then his lips. the moment you looked at his lips, he smashed his lips against yours. the force of his kids caused you to prop your elbows against the bed all while he snuck his knee between your legs. he pressed his thick thigh against the aching warmth.

you let out a muffled moan, & he mistakenly took that as an invite to roam your mouth with his tongue. you pushed it back with yours but, like in every other aspect besides academic, he dominated you.

the two of you ran out of air eventually. he pulled away, eyes half-lidded. "let me get you out of those clothes." he almost sounded needy, if your ears didn't deceive you.

"please, katsuki." that's all you had to say. it was like a command to him, & he was your ever loving soldier. he helped you take of your sweatshirt. gawking at your chest, you didn't wear a bra.

he scoffed with a smug smile, "sneaky girl." he saw right through you. it's true, you didn't wear a bra because of a fantasy you didn't know you were going to fulfill tonight. easy access. you wanted to give him easy access. "i knew there had to be something about you, & i figured it out."

he fondled your tits while he whispered in the crook of your neck, "you're a filthy slut, huh?" you nodded, grinding against his thigh; he chuckled before he started to mark your sensitive neck with hickeys upon hickeys.

at this point, it was getting hard to keep quiet. you knew it was only going to get harder from there. you bit your pink lip as a form of self restraint as katsuki took off his shirt & slipped off your sweatpants. you wore a lacy thong.

katsuki muttered, "oh fuck." he so badly needed you. his fingers rubbed your arousal through the fabric. he loved knowing that he made you so wet. his other hand pushed his boxers & pants down in one swift motion. katsuki needed to feel you around his poor, throbbing cock.

you might've had self restraint, but your lover didn't. he ripped the panties off of you & threw them somewhere in the dark room, not that he cared. if you were upset about it, he'll just buy you another pair he'd tear off. "fuck, y/n. i need you to tell me you want this- no you need this, need me."

you stroked his forearm with your fingers. this was so out of your comfort zone but you still managed to spit out, "i-i need you, katsu-"

there goes that habit of cutting you off again. he shoved his tip into, causing you squeal. he let you stretch, then stuck in more of his cock until you were finally well-adjusted to him. you felt the weight of cock inside you as your walls tightened around him.

you couldn't help but moan as a way of begging him to move. he demanded, "use your words, angel."

"katsuki~" you whined. his calloused hand clasped around your marked neck.

"tell me what you want, & you get to breath."

"y-you! i want you to fu-fuck me!" you choked out, eyes rolling to the back of you head as you desperately tried to breath. he let go, satisfied that you were slowly coming undone.

"such a quick learner," he praised, "i love hearing that voice of yours." you clenched around his hung prick.

he started to move, shallow humps turned into powerful, bed-rocking thrusts. he through your feet onto his shoulders while your wrists were held down to your sides with his hands. your brain turned into bimbo mush, babbling about how he needs to go harder, to keep going. katsuki happily obliged-- anything for his favorite girl.

every thrust your tits jiggled & your ass slapped against his hips. god, how was your body this divine? "such a good whore, handling my cock so good."

"k-katsuki, wanna cum- i'm cumming, i'm cumming!" you told him, scrunching your bed sheets under your grip. your mouth widened. with lightning speed, katsuki shoved something in your mouth; it was your ripped thong. the one you thought was lost in the room.

"fuck yeah," he moaned while he played with your clit. "cum all over my cock, i'm all yours." katsuki was so mean, yet so romantic. he ruined you so effortlessly & still managed to make you feel like you were a goddess amongst men.

you came. that wasn't the last time that night. he pulled out & flipped you over. "ass up, we're not done."

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thenameswinterfics · 4 months ago

Text

HEARTS OF STEEL, LOVE OF SILK

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric x Reader Settings: Season 5, episode 1 Summary: While you and your children enjoy a peaceful, domestic life in Rumcofa, Sihtric comes up with a pleasant surprise for you. Word Count: 3,9 K Warnings: Fluff, domestic fluff, smut, bad smut, very very bad smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, Daddy Sihtric is a warning itself. A/N: This fic was totally unplanned at first. It came out after a month and half of writing's block. I have planned no outline, no general guidelines, so sorry if you see a messy writing and some rushed parts. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologise if you'll find some horrors inside. This is a birthday present for my beloved @foxyanon . Hope you like it. If you're not, as I told you, you're free to cancel me. A special thanks to @zaldritzosrose , @legitalicat and @sylasthegrim for being a continuous inspiration and helping me with the fic, especially for the last part.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

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Winter came to Rumcofa in the blink of an eye, even faster than you could have imagined, unlike the village you once called home. However, you would be lying if you said that the cold season brought nothing but atmospheric surroundings. The white, soft snow covered part of the village streets all the way to the wooden dock, the frost clinging to the planks like delicate lace. The trees had been stripped of their leaves, but their bare branches were adorned with pure white, along with some water plants sprouting along the sides of the dock. The harsh temperatures didn't stop the merchants from coming and going as they reached the village by boat, some even staying the night and enjoying the evening bustle of the alehouse, warming their bodies with a hot meal and ale.

You didn't mind walking the streets at this time of year, the hustle and bustle of the village warming the air with a pleasant buzz. But there were days like this when you simply basked in the warmth of your home, a modest but cosy hut that provided a safe nest from the biting cold outside.

Signe, your daughter, was content to sit on your lap, her legs swinging happily and her eyelids half closed as you ran the palm of your hand through her silky hair, your bone comb gently untangling a few pesky knots. A soft hum escaped your lips, a soothing melody accompanied by the crackle of the fire, as your eyes wandered to your two youngest twins, Kare and Kore, playing peacefully on the warm fur on the floor, with a few wooden toys scattered about.

A buzz of voices outside caught your attention, a deep male voice followed by two shrill ones. And as the door of your hut swung open, you recognised the voices of your husband, Sihtric, followed by your first and third sons, Hindr and Ivar, the latter hoisted onto his father's broad shoulder. You saw the twins raise their heads, run to their father and cling to his shirt, tugging at it as Sihtric's free hand roamed over their small heads, playfully ruffling their hair with a wide grin on his face.

Years had passed, and Sihtric had become one of Uhtred's most trusted allies and friends, and a formidable warrior, earning him the nickname, along with Finan and Osferth, of "Uhtred's Pretty Boys". Yet despite his newfound confidence, you could see in his gaze the same shy warrior you had met many years ago in Coccham, on one of your usual stops on your lonely journeys. You were a warrior not bound to any lord, and Sihtric had been sworn under Uhtred's protection some years ago.

You could remember all the stolen glances you shared that night in the alehouse, and how he looked away quickly when he met your eyes, the flush in his cheeks visible in the dim light. It took some time for you to get to know him better, and at first you thought the Dane didn't enjoy your company, for he fled at the first opportunity.

But Sihtric loved you, of course he did. A love so fierce and sincere that it would move even the hardest of the gods. And because he loved you so much, he feared to disappoint you: he was born a bastard, with nothing to give you in return but his skill with the sword. It was not until you joined Uhtred's warriors a few months later that you got to know each other well, and the spark of love exploded like a fire in the middle of the forest. After a short courtship, Sihtric asked his lord for permission to marry you, and he eagerly agreed.

The gods blessed your union with the arrival of your first child, a boy you both named Hindr. Three years later, your union was blessed again with the arrival of Signe, who Sihtric affectionately called "my little princess". While you loved your two children dearly, you both agreed that there was room in your love nest for one more, and a few years later Ivar was born.

Your fourth pregnancy came as a surprise, as neither of you had planned to welcome another child into your family. Sihtric was reluctantly forced to leave his family to follow Uhtred in his attempt to retake Bebbanburg, and while he was busy defending the borders of Mercia, you gave birth alone, bringing two healthy twins into the world. You were reunited after the Siege of Winchester, and after shedding tears of joy for his children, he vowed to be a more present father and husband and make up for lost time.

"Let me come with you, Papa!" was the whining voice of Hindr, tugging at his father's sleeve to get his attention. The Dane lowered Ivar to the ground, and after he both kissed his sons' foreheads, he bent over his firstborn.

"It's still too dangerous for you, Hindr," Sihtric chided in a calm but firm tone, his calloused fingers stroking the child's cheek and chuckling at his son's little pout. "One day you will join me. I promise you." He finished, kissing the top of his head.

Then he rose and approached you and Signe by the fire. As soon as he was in your presence, he bent over you, holding two small flowers in one of his hands.

"One for my little princess," the Dane said softly, placing one of the flowers in his daughter's hand and gently pressing his lips to her forehead, to which Signe responded with a shy, silent nod. "And one for my queen," he added, leaning his face over yours and sealing your lips with a tender and lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, savouring the moment as a pleasant and familiar warmth spread through your chest. It had been a long time since you and Sihtric had shared an act of intimacy, and caring for five children took time away from even a brief kiss.

But the time was up, and soon you were forced to break the kiss and watch as Sihtric hurriedly took his sword. "Are you leaving already?" you asked, a hint of disappointment in your voice. Sihtric looked over at you as he took one of the twins in his arms.

"The Blood Month, my love," the Dane said, content to be surrounded by his wife and children, "Our boy Aethelstan is ready for his first hunt and we will join him.”

You hummed in understanding, your body mechanically combing Signe's hair while your mind was elsewhere. You loved your children, they all had your blood and Sihtric's running through their veins. But you were a warrior before you were a mother, and the time you spent on the battlefield with your husband was a distant memory. But Sihtric seemed to sense your discomfort, and he approached you once more before putting Kore down.

"I swear we will celebrate the next Blood Month together, my love," the Dane reassured you in a soothing voice and gave you a final kiss before saying goodbye to his children one by one. Before leaving the hut, he stroked Hindr's hair once more. "Protect your Mama and siblings while I'm gone, little warrior."

"As if his mother could not protect herself," you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes dramatically. Sihtric replied with a loud chuckle, his eyes sparkling with affection as he crossed the threshold of the door.

"I know you can, my fierce shield maiden," he replied with a grin, closing the door behind him.

You quickened your pace as you reached the alehouse, holding the twin's small hands in yours. Sihtric followed ahead of you, a small axe taken from Hindr sheathed in his leather belt, as he watched his three eldest children run through the building.

The hunt had gone well, except for one unforeseen event that no one had anticipated. Sihtric told you how Aethelstan had been attacked by three men, but had somehow managed to kill one and survive almost unharmed. It was not a boar they had sacrificed, but at least the Blood Month tradition was somehow expected. But it was the unexpected arrival of Eadith that took everyone by surprise: Uhtred and his men knew she had left after the events in Mercia and Winchester, but no one expected her to pay a sudden visit to Rumcofa.

The alehouse was warm, the flickering fire of candles dancing through the tables and casting a cosy glow on the wooden walls. The aroma of ale filled the air, the clatter of mugs and the cheerful chatter and laughter of the men adding to the convivial atmosphere.

With each mug of ale in hand, the whole group stood still and circled around Eadith as she told them the stories of how she had come to Frankia and how she had learned and honed her skills as a healer. As the conversation continued, you could see the surprise in the redhead's eyes when she recognised Aethelstan among the men, and you couldn't blame her.

You remember how King Edward's bastard son was taken under Uhtred's protection and raised among you: the child knew nothing of the dangers of the world, spending his early years in a monastery, his cocoon shielded from the outside world. Most of the time he ended up in your and Sihtric's care, and together with Cynlaef you raised them as your sons, the boys calling your own their little siblings. But now they were grown men, and you looked at them with pride and emotion: you and Sihtric still had your own children to love and cherish, but you would be lying if you said you missed those moments.

"This is Sihtric's wife," Uhtred said to Eadith, pointing to you with the mug in his hands, "and all of her and Sihtric's little pack that populate this town."

"Five children can hardly populate Rumcofa, Uhtred," you replied with a smile, your fingers gently stroking Signe's hair.

"Perhaps the gods will be on our side and bless our union again," Sihtric added, his hand slipping from your shoulder to your flat stomach. It was no secret that you both longed for another child, but you both knew that you were not the young and fresh couple you once were, and your ageing bodies made that dream distant and uncertain.

"Perhaps you should ask your gods for a little nudge," Finan snorted lightly, holding Ingrith by the waist and your son Kare in his arms. In the midst of the laughter, you could see Finan and Sihtric exchanging a knowing look that surprised you, but did not carry much weight.

The conversation continued until sundown, when the sun set, giving way to the moon, and the orange of the sky was replaced by a deep blue dotted with stars.

As you entered your hut, you threw your cloak and boots onto the nearest chair, tossed your hair aside and tried to undo the laces of your dress. Sihtric was the last to enter, closing the door behind him, unbuckling his belt and placing his weapons against the nearest wall.

When you turned to look at him, you noticed that something was wrong: everything was quiet, too quiet for a family with five children. You would expect chaos after a day at the alehouse, your husband running over his children in a playful catch, or just you and Sihtric sitting by the fire playing with them before tucking them into bed. But they were nowhere to be seen.

“Where is our little pack?” you asked with a hint of worry in your voice, frustration rising as you struggled to untie your laces.

"With Finan and Ingrith," Sihtric replied casually, his voice dropping as he approached from behind. Had you listened more closely, you would have heard a bit of hoarseness in his voice. "I asked them to look after our children for the night."

The Dane put his hands on your waist and pulled you gently from behind, pressing your back against his chest. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, his facial hair tingling your skin as he planted soft kisses on the side of your neck.

"I would have preferred to be informed of this idea of yours, Sihtric," you sighed, lifting your head to give him better access to your neck. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a strange but familiar warmth blooming in your lower abdomen: you could not remember the last time Sihtric had made your head spin and your body tremble with pleasure, the sounds of your moans echoing in your head.

“Is it so wrong to surprise you, little wife?” he whispered in your ear.

His teeth slowly grazed the skin of your neck. It was only meant as a tease, a way to have you fully entranced by him. Your words began to come out in broken, stuttered responses as you tried to think of anything coherent.

"Help me undo these laces and you will see how wrong you are," you replied courtly and sharply breathed, feigning offence in that remaining moment of lucidity. But your veil of resoluteness soon fell as you felt his rough hands cross your back, one of his tattooed fingers tracing your spine in a fluid motion. And as you sighed at the sensation of him touching the laces of your dress, a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you heard the muffled sound of a tear, the movement so unexpected that you lost your balance and were forced to place your hands on the table.

"Ah, m-my dress!" you hissed, your eyelids half open at the feel of his mouth kissing and nibbling your exposed skin, from the nape of your neck to your shoulders. "You tore one of your gifts-"

"I will buy you another one," Sihtric cut you off with a low murmur, savouring every inch of you with his mouth, "I will buy you the finest gown in all of Northumbria, if you allow me," the Dane continued, working his way up from your shoulder to your earlobe, nibbling gently, "but you know I will always prefer you without your clothes on."

All hope of maintaining self-control was lost when his hands began to squeeze your breasts as he sank his teeth into your tender flesh. You moaned loudly, your mind clouded with too much pleasure as you pressed against his body: Sihtric let out a low, guttural moan as he felt his throbbing cock pressed against your arse, sinking his teeth deeper into your shoulders.

He had waited too long for this moment, and had he had the chance, he would have stripped you naked and humped you on the kitchen table. But in his eyes you were his queen and goddess, ready to throw away his pleasure to satisfy yours first.

Instead, Sihtric spun you around and sat you on the table while he quickly revealed your breasts, slightly swollen from all the time you had spent carrying and feeding your children. His lips trailed down your throat, his tongue tasting the saltiness of your skin as he finally reached for your breast, his mouth enveloping and sucking gently as he cupped the other one in his hand, teasing your hardening nipple with his fingers. Shrieks and whimpers were your only sounds, accompanied by your soft moans as you rolled your eyes back, your back arching as you surrendered to the pleasure of the moment, the warmth in your abdomen spreading uncontrollably.

You could feel your core pulsing with excitement, a burning sensation that felt like sweet torture to you, loud sighs mixed with your screams as you desperately searched for something to relieve you. The wetness between your legs only increased as you felt one of Sihtric's hands push up your skirt, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh as they reached your warm cunt.

"Already so wet for me, my love?" the Dane asked in a hoarse voice, teasing your core with a few strokes before pushing a finger inside you, the intrusion unexpected but pleasurable at the same time. You almost forgot how thick his fingers were as he stroked inside you, how often he let your body float and how much your legs trembled at his touch.

Babbling and rambling words were the only thing you could say, your rational self temporarily gone. His name, called out like a ritual chant in a breathless voice, was the only word you could manage, your low throaty voice reaching his ears like a distant melody, frustrating him as his cock grew impatient in his breeches. But he knew he would postpone his pleasure for much longer, not before he made you squirm and scream his name loudly until your lungs were empty of air.

"How much I missed this," Sihtric whispered, leaning his head towards you, "how much I missed us."

"Sihtric," you sighed as his lips met yours, the kiss far from the gentle one you had shared in the morning. It was a needy, bruising kiss that told a story of longing touch and pent-up passion, of two souls locking their primary desires for the sake of their family.

Sihtric's tongue parted, the tip finding an entrance into your parted lips. You allowed him to enter your mouth, your tongues meeting in a frenzied dance as you swallowed another loud moan and felt another finger penetrate you. You inadvertently moved your hips towards him, moaning at how perfectly his thick fingers stretched inside you, his wriggles teasing and rubbing your tight walls.

Your husband could feel your hips moving frantically against his hand, your arse slapping against his open palm and your walls tightening against his fingers, a signal that your climax was reaching its breaking point. But he had no intention of letting you finish like that: he needed to remember how you tasted, to savour you and drink you all up.

He gently pushed you back, wanting to lay you down and bury his head in your thighs. But you quickly grabbed his wrist and stopped him, a frustrated moan escaping his lips.

"Not here," you murmured breathlessly, your body still trembling from the pleasure you had just received. For as much as you could not wait to release your own excitement, you would never let him take you on the table.

Sihtric's impatience grew as he scooped you up in his arms, carried you in front of the fire and laid you on the warm furs. Your lips entwined again in hungry and lustful kisses as you both undressed, Sihtric tearing your dress to shreds while you removed his with gentle movements, letting them fall with a soft thud.

You both stood naked by the fire, his lips moving quickly down, tasting and biting your skin from throat to belly, until he spread your legs in desperation, his head trapped between your thighs. His breath was hot against your folds, the heat from his mouth so pleasant and arousing that you would have closed your legs and found some friction had Sihtric not spread them with his hands. He teased your wet core with the tip of his tongue, but the taste of you was so intoxicating that all restraint was lost. First a lick, then his tongue penetrated your folds, devouring you like prey after a day's hunting. Your head began to spin, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as your fingers trailed over his curls, tugging wildly at them, causing the Dane to grunt and moan in return.

You reached your peak quickly, coming on his tongue as he eagerly lapped up your release. Your thighs trembled under his grip, which caused Sihtric to chuckle next to your folds.

“Good girl, such a pretty wife I have,” he said quietly with a kiss to each thigh. “Are you willing to give me one more?”

Before you could even answer, he allowed you to taste yourself on his lips as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock twitching painfully as his own arousal desperately needed to be released. Keeping your legs spread, he spat on his tip and after a few strokes, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust into you in one swift motion. It took all his willpower not to fuck you at speed: instead he chose a slow approach, his length stretching inside you like a sweet torture. He was slow at first, creating a careful rhythm, knowing how sensitive you were.

“Do not be so gentle now, husband,” you said softly as you leaned up. Your lips ghosted across his chest, then his collarbone, creating a trail of chills as you went. His thrusts faltered a bit as he shuddered with each kiss. “I am not some fragile flower, I can take it.”

Your leg wrapped around his hips, allowing him deeper inside you as you angled your hips up. One hand gripped your thigh, holding your leg tightly around him, while the other braced itself on the furs, holding his weight. A string of curse came out with every thrust, now deeper and harder.

The crackling of the fire could not hide the vocal chaos you two were making, the room filled with your whimpers and moans, Sihtric panting and grunting as he fucked you deep and hard, hissing under his teeth every time you tugged at his curls wildly. One of his hands moved from your hips to your flat stomach, the circling movements gentle in contrast to his rough movements.

“How good would it be to see you round with my pup again,” he whispered with an animalistic growl, never faltering his pace as you both rocked against each other’s hips.

“I would like to, husband” you whined, arching your back and head as he hit a sensitive spot. “But I am afraid my body could not bear another pup inside me,”

Upon hearing your words, Sihtric lowered over you, kissing the contour of your jaw gently, “Never underestimate the workings of the gods, my love,” he whispered with a hoarse voice, “We do not know what-”

A choked moan escaped his throat, grunting against your neck as he quickened the pace once more, his own climax on the verge of the release. The grip on your hips tightened into a bruised vice, your walls clenching around him, eagerly awaiting his release.

"Fuck, please," you let out a sharp breath as you clung to him, your nails digging into his back until they left scratches. Your senses were sharpened by the growing wave of pleasure, leaving you temporarily stunned as you felt your own release coming.

"Come to me, my queen," was the gruff voice of Sihtric you heard, praising you and whispering honeyed words before you both came simultaneously, wetting his cock with your fluids as your walls milked him of all his seed. When he pulled himself out, you both collapsed on the furs, both a terrible mess, but neither of you wanted to leave each other's embrace. You remained entwined for minutes that seemed an eternity, your fingers intertwined as you opened your eyes.

"Sihtric," you called out breathlessly, feeling the Dane's head rise against your neck, "What if the gods do not bless us with another pup?"

Your question made Sihtric smile fondly, his rough hand resting on your cheeks as your lips met in a tender kiss.

"Then I will thank them for giving me a beautiful wife and five loving children to love and cherish with my whole heart."

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm @sihtricsafin @arcielee

#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric smut #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #tlk fic

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dellalyra · 1 year ago

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

pixie says: i got him i got hydro daddy so here’s some celebration fluff ft my babies the Melusine’s.

Imagine Neuvillette coming to you, a small box in his hands and a Melusine skipping alongside.

You had been close to the Iudex for a very long time, two of the eldest beings in Fontaine. The Hydro Dragon and the leader of the remaining Naiads were bound together by fate - spirits and embodiments of the nation’s elements. Although he posed now as the Chief Justice, as you as a florist - you maintained that friendship from all that time ago.

However, his arrival at the beach you would always sit on after work with his small companion, Liath - you recognised - was unexpected. The fact he knew where to find you was enough to set your heart alight.

“Madame Y/N, please do excuse our interruption - I hope we are not intruding?” Neuvilette asks, poised as ever.

“Nonsense, Neuvilette. Come, sit. Hello Liath, how has your day been?” You say, patting the space your large cloak has been spread out on the sand.

Liath immediately pulls Neuvillette by the hand and they sit down beside you, the Melusine immediately climbing to sit on the man’s lap and the soft smile on his face makes your stomach feel warm and fluttery.

“I’m afraid I must ask for your assistance, it appears a skill of yours has eluded my talents. A skill in which Liath is currently searching for.” He says.

“Oh? How can I help?” You smile, turning to sit facing them.

“Liath came to me today, mentioning how much she admired the style you wore your hair in several days ago - however, I am not well versed in the art of braiding.” He says, face extraordinarily serious for a man asking for braiding advice.

“Oh well that is something I can help with! You want your hair to be like mine, Liath?” You ask, patting her small hand.

She nods and turns to Neuvillette who passes her the box on his right. Her small hands present the blue box tied with a blue ribbon to you and you unravel the bow to find a ridiculously excessive amount of hair clips, bows, ribbons and bands laying underneath a silver soft bristled hair brush.

“I was not entirely sure of what accoutrements you would need for this endeavour, Madame, so I collected everything I could think of. I do hope the brush will suffice, it is my own.” The man says, resting his cane against his leg as Liath crawls from his lap into yours.

“This is more than enough, I could braid the hair of every Melusine in Fontaine with all of this!” You smile.

“Can you do my hair like yours, please? The one long plait with a big ribbon at the end?” The darling on your lap asks.

“Of course, sweetling. Monsieur, sit closer - I will teach you how to do this in the event I’m ever occupied.” You say, patting the space beside you, to which obliges and shifts to sit at your side.

You pointedly ignore the hammering in your chest when the breeze wafts his scent toward you: sea salt, fresh air and something cool and calming.

You begin to brush the Melusine’s hair, soft gentle strokes removing any tangles and easing a path for the style.

“So you just gather hair as you go along, make sure you have three strands - and you overlap them like so, see? If it’s tighter, it will last longer - however I find if they’re too tight it tends to give me quite the headache so I’ll do it nice and loose for this little angel.”

Neuvillette watches your fingers weave through the silky strands and deftly manoeuvre it to your will - or rather - Liath’s will.

“And ta-da!” You say, securing the soft pink ribbon at the end.

Liath reaches up and feels her hair, before looking at the small compact mirror you produce from your bag and smiling.

“Oh thank you so much! I look almost as beautiful as you now! Papa - doesn’t it look pretty!” She spins toward the man beside you.

“Beautiful as a pluie lotus, dearest.” He responds.

“I’m going to show Sedene!” She scampers off toward the Palais, leaving you with the Iudex.

Somehow - this became routine. Every day, Neuvillette and Liath would show up to your spot on the beach, or your florist as it rains - and you would fix the hair of the Melusine. However, the second day - Sedene joined too. Then Aeife, then Elphane, then Blathine and soon you had a gaggle of giggling Melusines decorating each others hair in a chain of styling.

“Madame Y/N?” Liath asks about a month into this newfound tradition.

“Yes, sweetling?” You say, finishing up her hair as she turns to curl into you.

“Are you our mama?” She asks, yawning and nuzzling into you.

At this, the Iudex snaps his head from the newspaper he was reading across from you.

“Would you like me to be?” You ask the cuddled up bundle.

“Very much so. You do our hair, and take care of us if we’re not well and give us kisses. And since Monsieur Neuvillette is like our papa - and he thinks you’re beautiful and he feels a lot of love when he looks at you then that would make you our Mama!”

The Melusine has no idea what she’s said.

You snap your head to look at the hydro dragon.

His eyes are wide, newspaper held tighter in his grip as he looks between you and the little gossip.

“Does he now? Well, then - I suppose I am your mama, if you would allow me the pleasure.” You smile, settling a blanket on the sleepy child.

As she drifts off to a well deserved nap - the man turns to you.

“I do apologise, Madame. Liath - I did not expect her to be so free with her words. If my presence makes you uncomfortable I shall take my leave immediately.” His horns seem to droop slightly, and the sky turns a little bit greyer.

“Well - someone had to make a move. After all, I have been waiting for 700 years.” You smirk, shifting to stand and lay Liath on the armchair of your apartment above your shop.

Neuvillette snaps his head to you.

“I - 700 years? That was when -” The man stands up and walks toward you.

“When we met, yes.” You take his hand and pull him to your kitchen - where you can speak without volume concerns.

He looks at you as if you’ve grown another head.

“I have been in love with you since the moment I stormed into your old home with intention of befriending the mighty Sovereign of Hydro.” You laugh, taking your hand and placing it on his cheek to which he subconsciously leans in to - every touch starved ounce of his body singing in delight.

“A Melusine revealing my love for you wasn’t quite my intention, yet I fear my lack of romanticism would have impeded any attempts made by myself.” He says, and you huff a small laugh at him - never giving himself enough credit.

“Yet, as we are here now - I’ll do my utmost. You have enchanted me, body and soul, from the day a young Naiad flung open my doors. I’m sure you’re reasoning for keeping these feelings to yourself are similar to mine - you were far too precious and integral to my life to allow myself the risk of you no longer being a part of it.” He says, stroking a long finger across the rise of your cheek. You agree with him, voicing the same opinion that he was far too meaningful to you to potentially lose, yet you figured he felt for you about 50 years ago - but thought it best for him to figure it all out by himself rather than moulding things for him - given his nature and responsibilities. You can see a trail of shimmer on his lower lashes, this sweet, oh-so sensitive man. You wipe the beginnings of tears from his eyes.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don’t cry.” You smile, seeing him grin down at you and the mirth in his eyes lights your heart.

You tilt your head up to him and he cups your face with his large hands.

“May I kiss you, my darling girl?” He asks in the gentlest voice imaginable.

“Please.”

His soft lips press to yours and you feel as if you’re floating in the purest, warmest most divine pool of water as the clarity of kissing your love sets in. The kiss is gentle, romantic and full of pent up longing - the soft swipe of your tongue across his lower lip makes his hand grip tighter on your waist as you wind your hand into the silky white hair cascading down his back.

He pulls away, both needing a reality check - he looks at you as if to ensure you’re real and you smile at him, pecking his lips once more.

“I love you, Neuvillette.”

“I love you, dearest Mate of the Hydro Dragon”

“And we love you both too!”

The cheerful, loud voices of 3 melusine’s make you both jump as they appear at your door - boxes of cakes and sweets in their arms.

“Liath! Wake up! Papa finally kissed Mama!”

#neuvillette #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #neuvilette genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #fontaine #hydro dragon hydro dragon please don’t cry

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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year ago

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Hiii!! can i request a scenario where in a cold night, alucard pulls reader down on his lap just to cuddle into her/their warmthness, and acts all clingy and handsy towards her/them??? sorry if it sounds vague, is just a short scenario i have in mind, feel free to fill with anything else <3

──── 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘! ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I've mostly been prioritising my commissions which is why my lineup from my 2k followers event but I've hit a bit of writer's block so I've decided to do a little request to try and feel more refreshed and get writing. But in the meantime, my 2k followers lineup is still paused for my midsummer sale 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 0.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

You enter the drawing room, hair wet from the bath you've left not ten minutes ago. After a day of helping to repair the damaged castle, you found yourself covered with dirt and in need of a wash before settling down for the evening.

Trevor and Sypha are gone so it's just you and Alucard now and - as much as you miss the other two members of your little quartet - you're almost glad that they're gone because you finally have time alone with Alucard. Since you first started working together after you and Trevor defeated the cyclops, freeing Sypha and later awakening Alucard, you've felt something. Some spark between you that just didn't have the conditions to catch fire just yet. But you've got it now and you couldn't be more grateful for what's blossomed between the two of you in the meantime.

You giggle as Adrian pulls you down into his lap the moment you're in arms reach, limbs tangling as he lets himself topple over on the sofa with your added weight. He's careful though, attentive as he always is. The back of his hand cradles your head and his arm curls around your waist to pull you close to his strong body as you fall together, assuring that you won't get so much as the slightest bruise as you fall down in an embrace together.

Immediately, he's letting out a pleased hum and holding you as close to him as possible. He tucks your head beneath his chin and then tilts his head down, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as he squeezes you a little tighter and his entire body then slackens in relaxation when you wrap your arms around him in return.

Since the two of you have finally had time alone together, he's been very clingy and you don't blame him at all. He's been so alone since his mother died, he's faced monsters and has been made to kill his own father. He hasn't really spoken about any of it yet but you're sure he will soon enough, once he's had ample time to gather his thoughts and begin to process his feelings. You can't imagine what it might have been like for him if you weren't here to keep him company. Then again, you're sure that Trevor and Sypha wouldn't have left him at all after knowing he's had to kill his father to save Wallachia.

You bury your face in his chest, finding it surprisingly pillowy for how toned he is. Shortly after, you can feel Adrian tangling your legs together and you openly embrace it as the two of you lay there together. His hands roam over your body and you let out a content little hum as they squeeze your hips and roam the plains of your sides. He takes to rubbing your back and you shift a little so that you can tuck your face into where his neck meets his shoulder. His hair tickles your face a little but it's soft and silky against your skin and the feeling of his hand rubbing your back while his other arm stays protectively and affectionately curled around you lulls you into a sleepy state.

Intimate touch like this has grown so common in the days since your quartet has split in half. The two of you finally have time alone for your relationship to grow and for you to be able to be so openly affectionate with one another like this.

You're not sure how long the two of you lay there, just chatting about your plans for repairing the castle and hold, the next day, but you find yourself veering off topic with one question:

"Adrian... can I sleep in your bed tonight?" You squeeze him gently, "You're so warm..." His hand stops rubbing your back in favour of reaching up to brush your hair away from your face.

"Of course." He says gently and there's a practised sincerity in his voice. He's trying to hide his excitement. He'd love nothing more than to hold you in his arms all night; to have you be the last thing he sees before sleeping and the first thing he sees upon waking up.

Tenderly, he tilts his head down just a little so that he can press a lingering kiss upon your forehead. You close your eyes and smile, filled with a warmth that will only grow as this night goes on.

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not : ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️ @involuntaryspasms @writing-noah @signyvenetia @brideofalucard @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @danielle-marie @yourfamilyfriendsatan @firagirl @darlingdoctor @lyn07 @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @batsyforyou @jofie-does-things

#✎ kia’s 2k event ༉‧ ♡*.✧#adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard #castlevania alucard #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard x reader #castlevania x reader #netflix castlevania #castlevania

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akelafang · 6 months ago

Text

It is currently 8 am and I stayed up all night writing. This idea I had a while ago crept its way back into my mind and would not let go until I had written this thing out. Please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes, I am very sleep-deprived and have not properly proofread it.

Enjoy!

After Morgause’s ritual Ygrain may have vanished from Arthur’s sight but she did not leave his side. She watched his rage build as he rode back to Camelot. She watched as he confronted Uther about his newly acquired knowledge of the circumstances of his birth. She watched as the man she once called husband so flippantly dismissed the charges laid against him and felt her own rage boil inside her, echoed in the fury of her son's words. She watched as Arthur threw down his gauntlet, as the seriousness of the situation finally hit Uther. She watched their fight with a sick mix of satisfaction at Uther finally facing consequences and horror at Arthur’s actions.

By the time the servant boy arrived horror had won out. She was relieved when he managed to talk Arthur down. She desperately wanted Uther to face justice for what he’s done but not this way, not by Arthur’s blade. The murder of one's father is a stain on the soul that can not be washed out and one she would never wish upon her beloved son.

She understood why the boy, Merlin, had lied to stop Arthur. In the state of mind he was in she doubted that anything else would have stopped him from running Uther through. Though she could tell it pained him to say such words. Since the day Merlin had arrived in Camelot Ygraine had watched this boy protect her son with magic and now he forced himself to speak ill of it in order to protect his soul. She’d grown fond of Merlin as she’d witnessed the growing bond between him and Arthur but this instilled an affection for him in her that almost rivaled that of her love for Arthur. His care and devotion to Arthur was as endearing as it was heartbreaking.

That night she watched over Arthur as he slept, as she had done many nights before. As she expected he had trouble falling asleep and what sleep he found was not restful. She knew she could do little to soothe him but she hoped that on some level he knew she was there and that her presence would help.

Currently, he lay on his side, face smushed into the pillow and hair fallen over his eyes. For now, he had stopped tossing and turning in his sleep and seemed to be getting some level of rest. Ygrain smiled at the image he made. Oh, how she loved her ridiculous boy.

She reached out, wishing to brush the hair away from his sleeping face. When her fingertips reached the golden strands she expected them to pass through, instead she felt their softness against her skin. She pulled her hand away with a gasp. Surely she had imagined it. But then she looked closer. The hair she had reached for sat differently than it had before. The difference was miniscule but it was there. She had touched her son’s hair. And her touch had caused it to shift ever so slightly.

Slowly she reached out again and could not contain a smile as her fingertips connected with Arthur’s hair once more. She lifted her hand upwards towards the side of Arthur’s head and marveled at how the strands of hair followed her movement. She shifted his fringe away from his eyes and smoothed out the hair that stood on end. She ran her fingers through those silky golden threads with reverence.

She never thought she’d feel what it was like to touch something again. She thought that brief moment during the ritual would be the first and last time she’d get to hold her son. She never thought she’d get to experience this simple joy of stroking her baby’s hair while he slept.

As she continued to tentatively move her hand she felt him shift beneath her fingers and she froze. The last thing she wanted was to wake him. But that wasn’t the case. No, instead he leaned into her touch. She released a breath she didn’t need and continued her ministrations. Arthur nuzzled into her touch, his face so relaxed and peaceful. Ygraine wished she could stay in this moment forever.

Minutes passed, or it could have been hours, Ygraine was uncertain. But eventually, Arthur rolled over in his sleep and out of her reach. With the moment broken, Ygraine turned her attention to the things around the room. Could she touch them?

A glinting of light caught her eye. The sun was beginning to rise and the morning rays were peaking through a small gap in the curtains covering the windows, shining off of the gold tassels. She made her way over to them and eagerly reached out to grab hold of the closest one. A huff of quiet laughter escaped her as she felt the expensive material in her hand. She moved her arm this way and that way, amazed as the heavy fabric followed her movements. She delighted in the way they caused the light to shift and sparkle off of the tassels. With a sudden burst of confidence she scrunched up her fistful of curtain and flung it to the side, pouring light into the room. Behind her, she heard a groan from Arthur.

“Too early Merlin” He grumbled before settling back to sleep.

Whatever spell Morgause had cast had changed things. She could touch Arthur. She could move the curtains. She could interact with the physical world.

Ygraine smiled. It seems she has some unfinished business to attend to.

#Ygraine The Wraith Queen #bbc merlin #ygraine pendragon #ygraine de bois #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon #fuck uther #merlin #merlin emrys #merthur #arthur x merlin

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house-of-kolchek · 1 year ago

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Dress (18+)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

gif is not mine but I'm still obsessed with it.

@chaosandbubbles I take your Taylor Swift prompt and raise you: "But what if it was angsty?"

Pls be nice I wrote this and did not edit it :')

Word Count: 3.3k

“Leon.”

He turned, clearing his throat, eyes searching for the familiar face belonging to that voice. You greeted him with a smile, your eyes bright as they found his. Leon grinned back, taking a few steps towards you, and stopping to look you up and down.

“You look great!” He reached a hand out, offering assistance in getting up to the stairs. A perfect gentleman.

Your ears burned, your cheeks growing pink, and you hoped that either your makeup, your hair, or the dim lighting of the hall would be enough to hide it from the man as you hooked your arm around his, allowing him to lead you into the party.

Leon himself was dressed very well, just toeing the line of appropriate for a work event. He was in a fully black suit, rather than the usual navy and white set he sported in the white house. His silky button down was open, showing off the skin of his collarbones, leading down to the first hints of his chest.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before, but it still had you practically buzzing.

“New dress?” Leon whispered as you made your way into the crowded banquet hall. The interior was lit in a dark wood, creating a warm, inviting aura. “I haven’t seen that one in the rotation before.”

You nodded, deciding against elaborating any further. The woman at the shop had complimented your appearance when you tried it on the week before, noting that it was just perfect for the occasion. The slit along the side rode up to your mid-thigh, exposing the strength in your legs and the flash of the complimentary heel you’d chosen. The dress made you feel strong. You would even dare to say it made you feel sexy.

Leon’s gaze hadn’t left yours, and you found yourself stuck in it. You’d found yourself caught in looks like this more recently. The softness in his gaze, the flicker of movement in his focus that was so quick you’d convince yourself you’d only imagined it. His looks like those made you feel special, like you were the only thing he was seeing.

And at the same time, his arm broke away from yours.

Your smile barely faltered, and you stayed put as Leon travelled throughout the room. In all technicalities, this was a work event, and so you found yourself seated at a random table with some other agents you recognized.

Taking a seat beside Ingrid, you greeted her with a smile, blushing as she raved over your dress. Idle conversation passed between the group, and you remained generally silent, listening in and chuckling at all the right moments. It was quiet enough and only slightly boring.

“What’s this whole gala celebration for, anyways?” one coworker of yours - Beth - asked. Her cheeks were rosy, clearly having been through a few drinks at that point. Ingrid pushed a glass of water in her direction.

“To recognize the accomplishments and importance of all the DSO agents,” she recited, remaining fairly monotone. You couldn’t help the snicker building in the back of the throat. Even Ingrid thought this was stupid - and that was saying something.

That itchy feeling of being watched washed over you suddenly, and you drifted away from the conversation. Lifting your head, you swerved back and forth until the offending pair of eyes were found.

Leon was standing in another group, all while his eyes remained focused on you. It was clear he was ignoring every word, as his lips twitched, and he flicked his fingers to the side in one of the ‘secret gestures’ you’d come up with over the years. Nodding your head, you watched his grin widen before he excused himself from the conversation.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive at your table with a drink in either hand. You took your designated cocktail from him, offering your thanks and stealing a sip of his whiskey. Leon rolled his eyes, moving to elbow you softly in the side, though you dodged away at the last minute. As you turned to face him again, you noticed his eyes flicker back up, from where they had been studying… something.

You raised a playful brow, willing the onslaught of heat to stay away from your face. It didn’t listen.

“How many of those have you had?” you asked, walking with Leon across the room. The conversations were starting to exhaust you, and you hadn’t even been present for an hour. You took a generous sip of your drink, allowing the gentle burn of the alcohol to warm your throat.

“This is only my second, mom,” he teased. You raised your hand up in surrender, before poking him in the side. It was easy, poking fun at each other and sharing those closer, tender moments that others wouldn’t even dream of.

As the night dragged on, Leon drifted between your side and a few feet away. You lost count of the mindless conversations, the bored jokes from the other employees who didn’t want to be there either. You had only made it through your second drink, glancing over to notice that your friend was on the tail end of his fourth.

He seemed a bit more loose - as loose as Leon Kennedy could get at least. Some of the smiles, the laughs he shared with other guests seemed even genuine. It was a pleasant sight to see, one that others didn’t get very often. Genuine, carefree smiles like that were even an uncommon occurrence with you.

You hummed as Leon’s hand found your back, gently interrupting your conversation. It drifted lower as he settled beside you, forcing some of the breath from your lungs. In that moment, you wondered if he knew the reactions he elicited from you, if it was a game, a sign, or if he was just innocent and clueless.

You didn’t get the chance to find out, as another man in a suit bumped into Leon’s arm, sending the last few sips of his drink spilling out of his glass, and straight onto your dress.

“Hey!” Leon snapped, turning to reprimand the offender as you muttered a silent curse, taking in the darkening amber stain against the pale fabric of your dress. Leon was quick to notice the stain as well, letting out a curse of his own as he searched for a napkin.

“Shit - I’m sorry.” Your name fell from his lips, his focus on removing the stain until you rested a palm on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Leon. I can just get it dry cleaned,” you soothed, and he stopped his ministrations, though there was still a furrow in his brow. You glanced around the room, taking in the thinning crowd. “I think I’m ready to take off anyways. Are you good to drive?”

Leon paused for a moment, and you could see the gears turn in his head as he contemplated his level of sobriety.

“Probably not,” he admitted, letting out a weak chuckle. At least he was honest. You shook your head, bidding your coworker a quick goodbye and making your way towards the exit doors.

“C’mon, you can crash at mine.”

Leon followed behind you, muttering a quiet thanks as you lead him to your vehicle. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him sober up at your place overnight, though it was nice to see that he wasn’t overly drunk. He still seemed to have his wits about him.

Though he did seem particularly fond of staring at you while you drove.

“What is it?” You sent a glance to him from the corner of your eye. His gaze finally flickered away, towards the oncoming road as his lips pursed together. He seemed to be deeply in thought, and you glanced towards him a few more times before you stopped anticipating an answer.

You weren’t too far from your house, anyways.

“I’m really sorry about your dress,” he said again, and a quick glance confirmed he was looking at you again. You sighed.

“I promise, it’s okay.”

Leon was quiet, but his brows were twitching and there was a small frown on his face, as if he was truly upset about something. After a moment, you let out another breath. Maybe it was the way he’d been staring at you through the car ride, or at the gala. Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your own system. Or maybe it was just this build up of feelings you felt towards your friend of many years. The man who’d kept you sane, been alongside you at every achievement and fall.

“I only got this dress for you anyways.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you begged God to return them. The silence felt loud, your clipped breathing turning into what felt like a scream.

“What do you mean?” Leon asked, his voice was low, growing raspy. Conveniently, you’d just arrived at your home, and you pulled the car into the driveway before you could meet his eye.

Were you really about to admit your feelings for the man? In the car, clad in a stained dress that you’d bought purely in hopes of silently catching his attention?

“You’re my best friend…” your words were tight, the rest of them dying on your tongue as you met his gaze. He was looking so intently at you, blinking slowly, his own mouth moving as if he were running a list of thoughts through his head.

And maybe he understood the words unsaid, because the next thing you knew, he was kissing you.

…

Leon had seen your room before. Many times, even. In the years you’d known each other, grown closer, Leon had seen nearly every aspect of your life. He’d seen your hungover mornings, your nightmares and your raging bedhead as you searched for coffee. He’d seen you fall apart and pick up the pieces to put yourself back together. Leon had spent many nights on your couch, even in your bed - on opposite ends with at least two pillows stuffed between you two.

But Leon had never been in your bed like this before. Not with a lusty look in his eyes and his shirt split open to the last button. He propped himself on his elbows, watching as you kicked your heels to the corner of your room. By the time you’d made it to the foot of the bed, he was sitting up, gathering the skirt of your dress and bunching it upwards as he wrapped his arms around your lower back.

“God, this dress. It’s driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered against your jaw. You had no time to be concerned by the slur between each word as his mouth found yours, capturing your lips in the messiest, sexiest kiss you’d ever received.

Your hands flew around his neck, streaking up into his hair. He hissed between your lips as you tangled your fingers between the darkening strands, scratching against his scalp and tugging at the ends. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip, his tongue briefly meeting yours before his kisses fell back to the corner of your jaw.

Leon pulled you forward, and you all but fell into his lap, the unexpected motion causing you to tug particularly hard at his hair. His head snapped back, but he made no indication of any pain. He merely groaned, tilting his head before he moved to suck a harsh mark into the side of your throat.

“Fuuuuck,” you breathed, letting your hands slide down over his shoulders, resting against his biceps. You felt them flex as his hands slid further up your back, dragging the fabric of your dress with it.

“Arms up,” he growled, and you listened. There was a brief loss of contact as the dress was pulled over your head, and as your arms fell back down to his shoulders, you couldn’t keep the blush from dusting across your cheeks. You opened your eyes, waiting to see Leon’s reaction.

But his gaze wasn’t on your breasts, your panties, or even the exposed skin of your stomach. His eyes were on yours, a little bit glossy and heavy with lust, but they held that glimmer; the softness that had been skipping your heartbeats for months, years.

You heard the fabric pile to the floor, and Leon’s warm hands rested on either side of your ribcage. And then he leaned forward to kiss you - gentle and warm compared to the searing ones he’d been offering to you all evening.

And only after that did his attention finally fall to your chest. His gaze darkened again, growing even hungrier than before as he wrapped one arm around you, using the other to brace the weight as he spun you to land on your back against the sheets. He leaned back, finally shedding the button down and offering you a moment to just look at him, clad in nothing but messy hair and a pair of black dress pants.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him back to the bed.

Leon fell over you, supporting his weight on his forearms as his lips attached to your collarbone. He left a mark just under the bone, trailing his lips downwards until he reached your breast. He ran his tongue flat against one perked nipple, tweaking it with his fingers before giving the other the same treatment. One of your hands returned to his hair, the other reaching under his arm to run your fingers along the strong muscles in his back.

He dropped his hips, grinding his core against yours and drawing a gasp from your lips. Your sounds only seemed to spur him on, as he repeated the motion, his lips faltering on your breast as a ragged moan cut through his throat. Instinctively, you drew him closer, meeting his hips, and digging his face further into your skin.

With a growl, Leon bit down on the spot just above your breast. You whined, throwing your head back into the sheets. His hand traced down the length of your abdomen, teasing at the skin of your waist, the line of your panties, until finally, two fingers circled your clit through the fabric. You let out a long breath as his tongue prodded against your skin, your senses catching as he pushed the fabric of your underwear aside to trace along your entrance.

“You’re such a tease,” you murmured against his cheek as he leaned up to kiss you again. You felt his grin on your jaw as one finger curled into you, wasting no time in prodding against that rough spot within you. You rolled against his hand, your clit brushing against the heel of his palm as he snuck another finger in, twisting and curling them together until you were panting, breaths hitching in your throat.

Leon’s breathy laugh warmed your throat, as his lips traced and sucked deep marks into your skin. Your grip fell to his shoulders, digging your nails in which each curl of his fingers. Your hips jerked to meet his hand, driving yourself further into a pleasure-seeking daze.

You muttered his name, and Leon tilted his head up to look at you. The lighting was dim, but you could still see the glassy, dazed look in his eyes. His gaze flickered across your face, landing on your parted lips, before his thumb curled against your clit, and you threw your head back as your release washed over you.

Leon looked absolutely drunk on you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his hand stuttering in its movements before finally pulling away from your core. With a whine, you curled further into him, brushing the top of your thigh against the front of his pants. He groaned, his teeth sinking into the corner of his lip as you traced your hands from his shoulders, down along his solid chest. You traced the ridges of his abs, your stomach twisting again at the hard edges in his muscles - you’d seen Leon shirtless countless times before, but never had you been able to appreciate his dips and curves in his kind of way.

His patience seemed to fall apart at the seams, because the next thing you knew he was bucking against your thigh, digging his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. He reached for his belt, freeing the buckle with a surprising swiftness and shimmying straight out of his pants.

“Can I?” he breathed against your neck. He was already prodding against your entrance, running the tip along your folds, your clit. With a gasp, you nodded, and he groaned. “Use your words, baby.”

Baby.

“Fuck- Just do it already!” you whined, and he wasted no more time in entering you.

Leon started with shallow thrusts, inching in deeper until he finally went flush against you. With a long exhale, he stalled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, and based on the scrunch in his brows, to hold himself back from the edge he was teetering on. And then he fell over you, caging you in between his forearms, and his hips started moving again.

Your senses were full - almost too full - because it was Leon. It was Leon and he was looking at you like the rest of the world meant nothing, and his lips were brushing against your shoulder and he was with you in the most intimate way.

And you let out a breath in his ear that sounded a lot like a confession.

—

When you opened your eyes, your senses felt like they were fuzzy. It took a moment to fully recollect the events from the night before. A stain on your dress, Leon unable to drive home, the sight of his clothes falling to the floor.

An arm tightened around your waist, bare and incredibly warm.

You felt Leon’s steady breaths against your hair, his nose digging between the strands. One of his legs was tangled between yours, and his also bare chest was flush against your back. He was still asleep, muttering incoherent gibberish under his breath as he seemed to snuggle further into your form. And it felt amazing.

You stayed unmoving and quiet in that position for a long few moments, your mind going over and over the night before, until Leon’s breath stuttered as he fell out of his slumber.

Your eyes were still closed when Leon shifted, a quiet grunt catching in his throat as he stretched. With your back to him, you could only hear the sharp intake of breath, feel the way his fingers brushed against your arm.

You heard the silent “Fuck,” under his breath.

There was something in that word, something with more substance. It was strained and low as if he was fighting against something. It sounded like that time he approached the president, laced with guilt over the bad news he was about to share. It reminded you of the time he’d really fucked up. Admitting to you how he’d thrown himself needlessly into a firefight, almost losing his life in the process. That guilt in his voice had your heart plummeting into your stomach. So you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t move, regulating your breathing to the best of your ability.

Leon sucked in a breath, gently detangling his arms and legs from your own, and snapping the threads of your heart with them. You felt the soft structure of a pillow against your back as his warmth left the bed, and the sheets fell flat beside you. There was a flurry of steps around the room, another whispered curse. A short rustling of clothes and the ring of his belt.

Another long, pensive breath.

You stayed firm. You didn’t open your eyes until you heard the soft click of your bedroom door shutting.

And you didn’t hear from Leon for six weeks.

@obsessedwithtoomanythings hi I love you

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil

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alexiroflife · 5 months ago

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"seaside beauty"

fluff, quick little fic

armin arlert x reader

Synopsis: during a day out at the beach, armin sees you by the water and falls head over heels

to sum it up: armin didn’t think that his love for the water could get any greater, and then he sees you

WC: 2,473

Warning(s): none none noneeee

“Hurry up, you guys!”

Armin shouts over his shoulder as he makes his way toward the water, his friends following behind slowly. They watch him run off, eager to meet the sparkling sea with his bare feet. He hasn’t even stopped to strip off his shirt or put sunscreen on, his focus set solely on the water with merry eyes.

Eren rolls his eyes as he sets down his belongings alongside Mikasa, picking a spot an equal distance between the car and the water. It’s early in the morning, and Armin had dragged the two of his friends out of bed at the crack of dawn so that they could get to the beach before it got too packed. Luckily for them, only a few people had decided to visit the beach at eight in the morning, for at least others had the mind to catch some more sleep before trekking outside.

Mikasa busies herself by laying out towels as Eren thrusts their umbrella into the sand, grumpily feeling around for a firm hold. He looks up over the frames of his sunglasses to find that Armin’s towel had been tossed nearby, forgotten, into the sand during his march over to the water.

“Armin! Get your ass back here and set your towel up!” he shouts, cupping a hand over his mouth. Mikasa closes her eyes in agitation, Eren’s shout hitting her ear directly before traveling straight across the plain and over to the blonde. The black haired nineteen year old casts a glare over into her boyfriend’s direction, to which he scrunches a brow and shrugs his shoulders with a bothered ‘what?’

Armin hears Eren, but hardly pays him any mind. “Be there in a sec!” he shouts back in a lie, focus captured completely by the vision of the sun rising over the crystal blue water, early morning rays kissing the surface of salt with their radiant gleam.

He sighs, closing his eyes as the sea breeze brushes through his hair and fills his lungs. He adores how the ocean brings him such peace so effortlessly, how the smell of bitter salt mixed into crisp, filtered air washes over him like the shy waves that sweep up to his ankles. He thinks there is no better place to be.

The blonde looks down, strays of yellow hair tickling over his forehead as he bends over, tracing a soft finger lightly over a rigid, pearly shell caught in the sand. He digs his finger into the wet sand, curling the shell up into his pinched fingers. He lifts the shell to his eyeline, looking over the streaks of salmon dented into jagged edges along the chipped, oily surface. The underside is smooth and silky in his palm as he caresses it carefully, imagining what could have washed this fragment of the ocean’s depth onto this very shore.

Eren looks up again after setting up their shaded lounging area and finds that Armin is already distracted by some rock he found. The brunette exhales loudly. “He’s like a little kid,” he comments.

Mikasa hums, fishing around her bag, knelt down on her knee. “You know he loves the water.”

“Yeah, enough to disrupt our peaceful sleep,” he deadpans, settling on his towel to lay back under the umbrella. “Which I plan to finish right now.”

“Not yet, you won’t.” Eren lifts his head to raise a brow at Mikasa as she stands over him with a bottle of sunscreen in hand that she had managed to retrieve from her belongings. “Sit up. You burn easily.”

Eren groans, plopping his head back in a pout.

As Mikasa fights to slather the cold sunscreen onto Eren’s chest, Armin tucks the shell he discovered into the pocket of his swim trunks. He takes a step further into the cold, shallow water touching his upper calves. His eyes search the clear sea around his feet, watching in a squat as small fish swarm freely about his ankles. A soft smile touches his lips and another shell fragment catches his eye.

The nineteen year old reaches his hand into the water, fishing around for the piece. His eyes wander when he captures it, head turning to run over the expanse of the sandy plain behind him. His gaze travels from left to right, passing over his friends and across a couple walking along the shore and a man sunbathing, then to you.

Armin pauses after doing a double take, stare capturing your figure once more. His heart bangs and his breath almost stops when he soaks in the sight of you. You wear a sheer, short white dress over a sage green bikini, your coverup generously revealing the smooth shine of your bare stomach and the accentuated shape of your breasts. The breeze tosses the back of your dress into the air, your sleek, bare thighs absorbing the glow of the sun. Your knees down are dotted with water droplets, glimmering brilliantly along with the sea.

He sees your side profile next, a sunhat shading over your forehead. He thinks you’re smiling by the way your lips curl upward and your cheeks lift. You’re looking out to the horizon, hands clutching the top of your hat so that the wind won’t whisk it away. Your eyes are lit with the kiss of dawn, brightening your glowing (s/c) skin. Though you stand some distance away from Armin with your feet wading in the water, he sees you oh so clearly. And goodness, are you absolutely gorgeous.

You stand amidst the water like an angel that has come down to earth, your linen dress floating over your tender frame like a graceful cloud.

The blonde is frozen, stuck in his position as he stares at you with blown eyes and parted lips. Had you been there all this time, or did you manifest out of thin air like a gentle spirit guarding the sea? Armin swears to himself that it has to be either one of those options, for he does not know how he could have missed a sight as beautiful as you when he walked down to the shore.

When you move, he suddenly realizes that he has been gaping at you like a fish. He shoots up, snapping his eyes begrudgingly away from you and peering down at the new shell in his hands, attempting to appear as though he is preoccupied with anything but you.

He sneaks a glance back over at you to find that you are now sitting down in the shallow water. You bend your knees before you and lower your hands to prop yourself up behind you, watching as the gentle waves crash over your glistening legs. Armin gulps, his mind spinning. He turns over his shoulder to see if he is being watched then looks back at you. His fingers twirl the shell over in his hand, thoughts rushing with curiosity. He wants, all of a sudden, to know who you are, what brings you here, and perhaps if you have a boyfriend.

You’re all alone there, but you don’t seem discontented by the fact. You actually look quite happy to be unburdened by someone’s company, and Armin wonders why. Are you traveling? Do you live nearby? Do you come here often?

He wants to talk to you or to at least get the chance to see your face clearly. You keep turning your head to the side, looking away from him and around you blissfully. It annoys the blonde, for he wants a view of your eyes. He wants to match a soul to its physical beauty. If only he wasn't so modest, so abruptly nervous, he would have marched over to you and asked for your name, seizing the opportunity the moment he saw it.

But he’s intimidated, stunned into uncertainty by your enchanting presence. His mind is a blur, now unsure of what to do with himself and his body. He continues to sneak glances at you then turn back to his hands, hesitation capturing him and gluing him to his spot.

As if summoned by his jumbling thoughts, the wind picks up and sweeps over the water. Ripples spread throughout the surface of the ocean and pick up its speed as it rushes up against the sand. Armin tilts his head up to the sky, feeling his hair blow messily over his eyes and up into the air. He looks over and his eyes widen when he sees the brim of your hat blow upward from the side, the force of the gust brushing it off of your head and into the air.

His stomach drops.

You gasp and reach up haphazardly as your hat flies along with the will of the wind. Armin’s eyes follow it sharply, watching as it whisks over into his direction and just above his head. He drops his shell from his hand, skipping over his feet. He reaches up to the sky as he jogs out, splashing water over his legs. The straw hat almost manages to get away, but Armin grasps it tightly with an outstretched arm before it can blow any further.

He huffs, landing on the sand and lowering the hat from the air and into his hands. He turns around to find that he has traveled quite a ways away, his feet now planted in dry sand. He prepares to move when he sees you heading his way first, sparkling water flying from your hips as you bashfully jog over to him, feet kicking up sand and coverup bouncing lightly over your curves. Your hair, revealed by the absence of your hat, flies back over your shoulders as you run. Armin clamps his mouth shut, his legs taking a few cautious steps forward before you’re right in front of him out of breath. He thinks he’s dreaming when he sees your face before him.

You come to him with a breathless grin, lips stretched stunningly into an apologetic yet amused smile. Your eyes, which Armin discovers are a rich (e/c), settle over him with amiability and warmth. You are slightly shorter than him, tilting your chin to gaze up at his face and catch your breath. Armin grows entirely too aware of the way your chest rises and falls and the quick brush of your tongue or your bottom lip. You are even more drop dead gorgeous up close.

“Hey, good catch!” you chuckle sweetly, a sound melodious in Armin’s buzzing ears. He does not find the words quick enough, ocean blue eyes frozen over your face. A stinging blush pinches his cheeks when he snaps out of his daze, registering the fact that you are there with him, speaking and looking at him.

“S-Sorry,” he stammers, cursing himself internally. “What?”

You press your lips together to suppress a bigger smile, palm swiping over your brow then cupping over your forehead to shield you from the sun. “With my hat,” you clarify, nodding to the article of clothing in his hold. “You caught that so fast. I’m impressed.”

Armin looks down, flustered shamelessly by your generous compliment. He examines the hat then looks back up with raised brows and parted lips. “Oh!” he nods, a nervous smile cracking onto his features. “Yeah, thanks. Didn’t want it getting away from you.”

Your smile grows. “Well, you were definitely successful.”

The timid, low chuckle that spills past Armin’s lips makes him feel foolish. He doesn’t even know who you are, and yet your beauty is practically rendering him incapable of functioning. “Here,” he holds out your hat to you, eyes bouncing between your face and his hands.

You reach out, wet fingers brushing over his when you retrieve your sunhat. Armin shivers at the way your touch is as gentle as your presence and retracts his hands almost immediately. You peer up at him through long lashes, eyes swirling with interest and excitement. Armin trembles, clasping his hands up before him, gaze soaking in your sun kissed face.

Your soft lips stretch as you raise your hat over your head and tug it back on securely. Armin watches, eyes hazy and face glowing pink. A spark buzzes between you, weighing heavily in the air as your eyes lock. Armin can feel spurts of electricity coursing through his veins under your gaze, body throbbing with the pulse of his blood and the rapid beat of his heart. God, you’re so stunning it hurts to look at you. He can feel his throat run dry and his eyes gloss over just by sharing eye contact with you. He feels like he’s going to explode, and he has a sneaking fear that you know.

Your (e/c) orbs dance over him, detailing his pretty face and flushed tan skin. You can tell that you are making him nervous, and you find it cute. You think he’s cute, with his wind tossed blonde hair and light eyelashes surrounding breathtaking sapphire eyes. His anxious bobbing of his Adam’s apple and defined veins running over his slender hands and up under the sleeves of his light t-shirt. He has certainly snatched up your attention, whether he was trying to or not.

Your cheeks pinch with your beam as you bite the corner of your lip nervously, eyes catching the ground momentarily, the intensity of his gaze beginning to agitate your nerves. You fold your arms behind your back and rock on the balls of your heels, hot sand scrunching beneath the pads of your feet and between your painted toes.

“Okay, well,” you begin, fiddling with the hem of your coverup. “Thanks again,” you nod gratefully.

Armin swallows hard, nodding swiftly with a tight anxious smile. “Of course, anytime.”

You smile one more time at him then turn over your shoulder, walking slowly back over to your spot in the water. Armin thinks his heart bursts when you glance back at him, smile stifled and eyes sparkling.

He blinks, staring off hopelessly in a trance, finding that he wishes he would have said more to you.

“Yo, Armin!” Eren’s voice crashes through the almost magical stupor, shattering the bubble that had formed around you and the blonde.

He whips his head into the voice’s direction with a panic, brows suddenly angled and lips tight. He finds Eren waving his hand out from where he lay with Mikasa tucked against his chest. The brunette grins devilishly, lifting his sunglasses so that he can meet his best friend’s eyes from afar.

“Did you get her number?!”

Armin’s eye twitches as he shouts at Eren to shut his mouth, face flushed to all hell. You settle back into your seat in the water, holding in a laugh, and waiting for that blonde to take up his friend’s suggestion and make his way back over to you.

#aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot fluff #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x you #aot fanfiction #aot x you #aot x y/n #aot fandom #attack on titan armin

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raccoonfallsharder · 8 months ago

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˚₊‧✶ headcanon 21 ✶‧₊˚

i write about raccoon sense of touch a lot [this kinda spicy rumination] and i think about it a lot

like two-thirds of a raccoon’s sensory perception area in the cerebral cortex is just… focused entirely on interpreting tactile data. their fingers have whiskers (okay, vibrissae) so they can identify objects without even making paw-contact. their hands become hypersensitive when wet (lord). if they identify things with their paws, they can remember them for up to/around a year without touching them again.

so yeah, when you press a kiss to rocket’s palm, it damn near lights up his whole brain. holding hands? palm-to-palm? it’s so intimate that he’s probably absolutely scarlet under all that fur. he probably thinks it feels like you might as well be reading his mind. he memorizes you the same way he memorizes every gun he takes apart and every bomb he puts together.

i suppose this means he thinks mostly in tactile sensation, too. when he’s imagining you, it’s less about the color of your hair (assuming the high evolutionary’s made sure he can see the same color-range as humans, anyway). it’s not about the clarity of your eyes, or how you’d looked with the sun haloing you that morning on xandar when he’d first let you touch his shoulder. nope. when rocket thinks about you, it’s how warm your hands are, every little soft pillow and rasping callus on your palm and fingertips. the brush of them through his fur, every one of his little hairs standing on end in its follicle. it's the shape of the bones in your wrists from that time he traced them into memory.

similarly, rocket doesn’t remember lylla’s liquid-dark eyes so much as the silkiness of her pelt, the cool graze of her vibranium-alloy hands. the delicate touch of the damp fabric on his forehead that very first day, and the squeeze of her arms on the very last.

and so, the natural outcome of all this is that he dreams in touch, too. it’s not the silver flash of scalpels and the blood on the ground — it’s not even the gunshots and floor’s desperate pleading and his own wails, or the scent of laser-burnt fur and blood — though of course those are all there too. it’s the pain he dreams of: feeling it fresh in his body, every incision and broken bone and careless laser-stitch, every screw and metal plate soldered in. it’s not the lights for their white-brightness; it’s the tearful squinting squeeze of his eyes, the burning in his pinpoint-pupils. it’s the way lylla’s body had buckled and loosened, and pulled from his arms to the ground by gravity — the last of her warmth wisping through his fingers, already a ghost between the cold arête cages. it’s the plummet in his own belly — that terrible twisting knot that dropped when his first family did, and never ever stopped.

all that pain. it’s so much. it’s so much to make up for.

it’s so much to make up for.

but you’ll get started.

headcanons & imagines masterlist

#rfh headcanons #rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon headcanon #rocket raccoon fanfiction #rocket gotg #gotg rocket #gotg fanfiction #gotg rocket x reader #reader x rocket #rocket x reader #gotg x reader #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket racoon x reader #gn reader

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gh0st-author · 6 months ago

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lover of mine

pairing: William James Moriarty x reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort but very bittersweet

summary: when i take a look at my life and all of my crimes, you're the only thing that i think i got right

warnings: mentions of death, lots of sad thoughts

A/N: ha ha .. guess who's back ... jk jk i've been away for a little while and i dipped in true fanfic author fashion BUT HEY im back now. and i was craving a bit of pain so here is a lil something angsty. its more of a character study than anything... also could you tell that ive been listening to lover of mine lmao

The serene silence of the night was interrupted by a strangled gasp, a broken intake of air momentarily cutting through the calm as a figure arose suddenly from their sleeping position, clutching their chest. Scarlet eyes flashed open, disoriented, hauntingly glancing around the room, the man trying to gather his bearings. He felt as if the walls were caving in around him, although the logical part of his brain was aware that those notions were only in his head. But lately, there was little difference between nightmares and consciousness to William.

And that was all that this was— a nightmare. A horrible fragment of his imagination seeping into his dreams and haunting his waking hours. Usually, the myriad of thoughts and emotions was kept tightly at bay in the furthest reaches of his mind, but at night when his defenses were lowered and his being slumbered, they seeped through and poisoned his dreams, his consciousness becoming a prison, caging him in. Faces flashed before his eyes, his own bloody hands, the weight of his own deeds and sins— oftentimes he felt less like a man and more like a whirling swarm of guilt, despair, and nihilty.

He directed his gaze at the ceiling, eyes tracing the veiny cracks weaving over it like spider webs, as his mind churned with thoughts. His soul was screaming out, but no sound seeped out. Power comes in response to a need, not desire. He felt no desire for bloodshed he dished out, found no enjoyment in it, yet he continued to drag himself further into hell, each step heavy as stone but unwavering, preserving what little hope was left at the cost of damning his soul. That was something he needed to do. He even abhorred violence, deeming it an absolute evil. Violence for violence was the rule of beasts, yet most days he felt as if it was the only language he knew how to speak. Maybe before long, he will become just like them, a violent animal of claws and teeth that did not know why it bit, crossing the blurry line of this dark gray area he roamed in and passing the point of no return.

A minuscule movement and soft rustling of the sheets at his side drew his attention away from his musings. He gazed down at the figure sleeping next to him peacefully, face serene and bathed in moonlight. Shadows splayed over her skin making her look even more ethereal, hair draped over the silky pillowcase forming a halo around her head. An angel— or perhaps divine punishment for his sins.

She was a being pure and unsullied by the darkness of the world; the darkness in him. Sometimes, he was almost afraid to touch her, in fear of tainting her pristine radiance with his stained hands. The mere fact that a person so far fallen like him was able to bask in the warmth she provided was as cruel as it was bitter-sweet.

She was an existence that he shouldn't have been able to approach, and the reality of that seemed too harsh and unkind in actuality, yet he often found himself wondering if that was really true, though.

Reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair from her forehead, he once again contemplated that thought. Maybe fate wasn't evil or cruel for sending him this brilliant shard of light. Perhaps it was actually merciful, providing him with a single taste of heaven— something he thought he had no hope of ever reaching. Maybe it was kind enough to gift him with this momentary reprieve.

Her brows furrowed in her sleep as his ministrations disturbed her slumber. He slowly drew his hand back as her eyes opened, blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

She shook her head and inched ever so closer to him. "Why are you not asleep? You have to teach early tomorrow." Her worried gaze ran over his face. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing." His throat was tight, each word rasping out almost painfully. "I am just... pondering."

She hummed lowly, considering him, then rose to sit next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Hmm, a bad nightmare?"

He sighed deeply, bone-weary, resting his cheek against her temple. "Don't concern yourself with it. I promise I am fine."

She let out another hum, and he knew what she was attempting, yet he was too weak to refuse her. She gently cradled his hands in her lap from where they'd been clutching the sheets and started tracing little patterns with her thumbs over them. "Tell me about it"

A small wry tilting of his lips, too fleeting to be called a smile, accompanied her actions. Exactly as he predicted. She knew precisely what to do to get him to talk. And that was no fault of hers, for he always acquiesced and yielded to her wants. "When I put my life into perspective, and all of my sins and crimes I committed, you are the one singular decision in it that I think I made right."

Her hands paused their movements and her gaze flew to his face, confused and slightly vexed. "What do you mean?"

Her face was so sincere, so unwaveringly loving, that he was barely able to endure the depth of her gaze. Yet he was unable to tear his eyes away from hers as the words spilled from his trembling lips. "My only right choice was meeting you, despite all of my wrongdoings. But your place is not with me, in the shadows. You should be out under the sun, never touched by our darkness."

Her brows furrowed once again, this time more severely, and he observed her face becoming even more confused and irked. "William you are talking nonsense." She clutched his hands tighter. "I chose you, William. Promised to be by your side through the good and the bad. No one else. You"

Another piece of his soul bloomed and withered away with her words, leaving its rot embedded deep in his chest. He slowly rose one hand from her grip to rest it gently on her cheek. "How I wish I could've loved you under different circumstances."

"Stop that!" she protested, shock subsiding, replaced with indignation. "You fight for equality. You are noble. You are not evi—"

"There is nothing noble about what I do." The look he gave her was cold and mournful, closed off. Any semblance of warmth leeched out of it. "Taking someone's life— even for a greater cause— is never justice." Dropping his hand from her face, he inched away from her, pulling away as the thick walls he usually built to keep these thoughts away crumbled in her presence. As he confessed to her the depths of his despair. "I never told you this before, but I plan to die." He didn't know if saying these words was a weight off his chest, or the last nail in his proverbial coffin. "I plan to atone with my death, to disappear as the last blight on society. To end the great evil that the masses depict me to be."

"Don't you dare!" Her words were a shocked gasp. And suddenly she understood— he saw it in her eyes that she did. She saw his guilt. Guilt, and grief, and resentment, and loathing. An inescapable torment weighing him down, trapping him, crushing him under the immense pressure of his deeds. A bottomless pit pulling him into its depths of despair. She understood why he condemned wrongdoings so harshly, why he mourned the loss of life. There was probably no one who valued human life more than him, yet was forced to extinguish it to save the majority. And he saw her terror. He saw her grief, her anguish, her heartbreak.

With a sob, she threw herself in his embrace. She was shaking, trembling in his arms, and his chest caved in knowing he was the cause of her pain. Her plea was a broken whisper. "Don't you dare, William. Not like... that. Never like that. Remember our deal: Where you go, I go. If you die, I'll follow, since there is no me without you."

His mouth opened to protest, to refute her argument, to undoubtedly say something akin to her life holding more value than his, but she halted him with a firm grip on his shoulders. "Promise me!"

Her eyes were boring into his, and once again he found himself rendered speechless and unable to resist her. "I promise I won't." The falsehood tasted like ash on his tongue, and not for the first time he wanted to cut the lying appendage off. What good did it serve him if it only knew treachery and deceit? If it would only bring her more pain.

Her trembling hands wound around his figure as she hugged him tightly once again. "You are everything to me, William. I don't know what I would do without you. Please... Please never say something like that again."

A shuddering breath left his lips and he leaned completely into her, resting his head in the crook of her neck, feeling incredibly worn out and frail. "How do you not condemn me?"

Her hands slowly made their way up to brush through his hair, so achingly gentle. He couldn't remember when the last time that he'd been touched so lovingly was. Couldn't remember if he'd ever been before meeting her. "I love you, William, the broken parts and everything. Stained hands or not. I have always vowed to stay by your side. No matter how much our souls are tainted, we will spend the rest of our lives atoning for it— together. After all, is it better to just be born good or to achieve goodness through your own effort?"

She leaned back to smile at him, then brushed a soft kiss against his lips, still trembling from the onslaught of his raging inferno inside him. "Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone. Use the pain as a motive to continue forward. You will heal and you'll rise above it all."

Oh, she was so cruel, unintentionally so. Her sincerity was like bitter wine down his throat or a poison slowly making its way through his bloodstream. The simple fact that she truly believed there was any chance of redemption for him hurt more than death by a thousand papercuts. "I was correct." His hand lightly traced her cheek once again. Every word was a wound slowly bleeding out, draining his strength with it. "I really do not deserve you."

She shook her head, somber once again. "Stop saying that. I can't think of a man more worthy of my love and redemption."

Darkness without light was an abyss. Light without darkness was blinding. You could not have a coin with only one side. Maybe they were like that. She was his perfect antithesis, his other side. The one that would grab and pull him out of the bottomless abyss of living hell, and he was the one that would ground her and shield her from flying too close to the sun. She would provide warmth to thaw away his frost, and he would keep her fire from burning out too fast. He only hoped he would be around long enough for her to not need him anymore. He hoped she wouldn't be too furious with him after he'd perished. What was another broken promise added to his ever-growing list of sins?

Because he couldn't stay with her in the light. She was still so incredibly radiant, not as far gone as he was. He knew that only the dead have seen the end of war. And that has always been his plan from the beginning. For how could he, a sinner as vile as the ones he was ridding the world of so diligently, be allowed to live in this new pristine world he was trying to create? How could she still see something good in him when he was the biggest evil that had to be eradicated? His fate has been set in stone since the first day he took Albert's hand, maybe even before that, yet with every new day he found his resolve on that matter wavering more and more. With each kiss from her; with every touch; with every love-filled glance— she made his icy determination crumble under her warm light. He was nothing but a coward wearing the face of a revolutionary, desperately clinging to life— to her— when he knew he couldn't. But for her, he almost thought it was worth it to live.

Sometimes he felt as if he could feel time moving, slipping through his fingers, and that dreaded moment of judgment creeping up closer and closer behind him, breathing down his neck. A walking dead man— that's what he was. The person currently cradling her, whispering sweet lies and false promises, was just his shell, a ticking time bomb or a lit candle only waiting for its fuse to burn out. That is precisely why he said nothing more as she urged him to go back to sleep once again. Said nothing as she draped the covers over them. Said nothing as the stifling silence threatened to pull him under once again.

He would not be sleeping tonight, although she did not need to know that.

#moriarty the patriot #mtp william #mtp x reader #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #ynm #yuumori #mtp #yuumori x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader

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