#SO MUCH CROW CONTENT THIS WEEK this is all i have ever wanted | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alilobsessive · 2 months ago

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The Terrible Crow

All your life you desired recognition from your father, well you got it! But not from your bio dad, things only grow worse from there. For the Bats, not for you.

All your life you have longed for one thing, you’re Father’s recognition. At first it was simple things, like getting good grades, school awards. Anything for him to tell you how good of a job you’re doing. When he brought in Dick that changed, the escalation was quick. If he could be Robin, if he could fight with your Father why couldn’t you? Eventually after years of begging he agreed, then not even a week later he took in Jason and he became the new Robin. Your Father told you it was because he was older then you, already making it safer for him to go then you. When you brought up the fact that you’re the same age as Dick when he started, your father countered that Dick already had years more training with his parents than you.

After that you reluctantly didn’t argue, scared of seeming like nothing more than a spoiled kid. Jason in you began training together, although the two of you grew a bond it never felt right. Everyone called you close and although you liked him a part of you was resentful. You’re Father was always tougher on your training then Dick or Jason, always finding a flaw no matter how long you practice. In a way it helped you perfect your skills to the last detail. But he never told you “good job” not like Dick or Jason, it was always moving right on to the next thing. After Jason’s death the training got worse, he was somehow harder and stricter than before. You went to bed sore with aching bones and bruises from training, if you went to bed at all that is. Sometimes your sleep schedule was what was being trained, he would make you stay up for days at I time, rarely doing anything more than a nap. He told you this was similar to the training he went through, that it would make you stronger.

You never got the chance to prove it though, not even a half a year since Jason died a new boy was brought in. Tim’s the same age as you, highly intelligent and good at stealth but completely untrained. “SO WHY IS HE ROBIN!” You screeched at the man you call Father, Tim stands there glaring at you. He has a red mark on his cheek from where you slapped him when you were told he would be Robin. You were instantly yelled at and reprimanded by your Father for this, which started this argument in the first place. “I HAVE TRAINED FOR MOST OF MY LIFE FOR THIS, I HAVE DONE ALMOST EVERYTHING YOU WANTED ME TO! I FOLLOWED YOUR ORDERS I DEDICATED MY LIFE TO THIS” You scream at him, tears filling your eyes and falling down your cheeks. He just stares at you, expression blank and unchanging “what made you think I’d ever make you Robin?” Is all he says. Freezing you just stare at him crushed. “You’re dismissed” you feel like he spits it out, he doesn’t but it feels like he does “don’t ever train here again, nor even think about being a vigilante” you’ve never felt so much rage and sorrow before. You turn around to leave pushing Tim to the ground as you do “you’re grounded!” He calls out. Without even looking back you flip him off ��fuck you Bruce!”.

After that things were never the same, you never wanted to try at anything anymore. What was the point in constantly studying if it meant nothing? So you did whatever you wanted, there were barely any consequences. Bruce didn’t give a shit about you, he never truly did. Alfred always sided with Bruce, sure he called him out when he was in the wrong, but that rarely changed anything with you. Dick was as absent in your life as ever. Finally you and Tim’s relationship was shit, it would never recover, at least you didn’t care if it did or not.

Eventually though you stumbled across a niche that peaked your interest. It started small, quick one minute videos about animal biology you finished the nearly 10 year old channel's entire library of content in 2 days. Then it evolved into animal psychology and finally to humans, what made them tick. It was fascinating every last detail interested you, from the mating habits of raccoons to the study that showed most humans could pick out snakes in extremely pixelated and blurry images. Even the more questionable experiments that would never pass today, like the wire and cloth mothers, and the monster study. Things that would have been difficult to prove or research if it wasn’t for the unethicalness of it all. Hell, even the bullshit study with gorillas learning sign language was interesting, even if the whole thing was completely pointless and awfully mismanaged. It was just so interesting to learn about.

Then you stumbled across it, a familiar name, Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow. All his published studies were almost 2 decades old, but that didn’t stop how interesting they were. Both as a glimpse into the mind of a madman who long had his license revoked and as a study in how the mind understood fear in general. Sure you were made to memorize his habits, his usual schemes, hell you even helped reverse engineer and make a cure for several of his fear toxin strands. But you never learned about his studies, never learned about the person behind the mask. But now you wanted to, desperately, of course you couldn’t just go to Arkham. Bruce would learn about it and who knows what he would do once he learns of your little…. curiosity.

No, you didn’t want that, so you lied in wait for the perfect time. But while you did so you studied, falling back into old habits. Day and night you obsessively researched human psychology, several studies both bullshit and true. You memorized everything, dates, names, places, what effects they had, any changes or new revelations in the study, what they were studying and in some cases what they ended up actually studying. You even ended up dabbing deeper into chemistry. All of this to impress someone, but you enjoyed learning these things. All of this was fun, unlike dealing with Bruce.

Then finally the day came, Scarecrow broke out of Arkham. Using the skills Bruce ground into your brain you found him. It was pretty easy, you're shocked he didn’t find Scarecrow sooner. Of course you ended up captured, tied to a chair in one of his labs. Oh also a gun pointed at your head, neat! “What are you doing here?” Scarecrow says suspiciously, a wide grin forms on your face as you happily say “I want you to teach me!” The man just looked at you strangely. Then he laughed, “this isn’t a very funny joke kid” the man sneered at you. “But I’m not! I’ve read your work Mr. Crane! It’s absolutely fascinating! I want to learn more, especially about your newer unpublished stuff!” He just stares at you, “really?” He asks, pointing the gun down. Although he doesn’t look like he believes you, “then prove it” before you can even react the gun is back at your head and he shoots.

The bullet barely misses but you don’t move, don’t even flinch, you just smile. You know how manic you look, but you don’t care. Scarecrow just stares at you surprised, he completely lowered the gun and put it away. “Well..” he mumbles, “I guess I can give you a test” that made you feel nothing but pure glee.

The costume you were put in started out simple, a almost completely black suit with blue gloves and a mask vaguely resembling a plague doctor. You thought you looked like a rip off emperor's coven member but that’s not that important. As Crow as his apprentice you were first given grunt work, helping and leading his henchman in getting supplies for whatever project he was working on. That was when you weren’t doing homework, taking notes, organizing documents. The Bat’s were completely unaware of what you were doing, sure they knew you had something after school. The one time they asked you told them you got an internship. They didn’t even bother to verify if that was true or not. Alfred was the only one who even slightly cared and even then he was just proud that you finally found a calling away from the vigilante life. Boy was he only slightly correct.

Things started ramping up after you defeated Tim, Robin in combat. The pure smug joy you felt at that moment is indescribable. The rejected Robin, who's rusty, proving that they're stronger, faster, smarter, better than the current? You were so excited you almost went into hysterics, and the fear on his face as you brutally kicked his ass? Priceless! They didn’t even realize it was you, but Scarecrow did, he recognized how similar your fighting style are instantly. At first you were worried, scared even about what he’d do now that he knew. Truthfully he was suspicious at first, but once you told him your story, how you were rejected from being Robin in favor of the second and third. How cruel they were to you before and after, even said you would tell him the secret identities of the bat’s and everyone you know is affiliated with them. Both publicly and privately, although he rejected your offer he saw your desperation. How much you want, no needed to stay, to keep this. Scarecrow accepted your loyalty and at that moment you truly became Crow.

To commemorate this occasion you got an outfit change. It became more padded, the mask looking more like a helmet then anything, and boots that increase your height by several inches. You were also made to train in a different combat style with both the added height and change of vision it was a necessity. But also to help cover your tracks as Crow from the Bat’s. So you grow, you changed, you trained and trained and they never noticed. Not when you came back injured from work, with new bruises and scars. Not when you came home with gifts, or when you brought your assignments back with you. They were completely ignorant as Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, he became your family, your father.

Eventually though Bruce got suspicious, he never figured out who you were, not until much later. But he realized you're doing something shady, the man never put in the effort to figure out what exactly. So he sent you off to a college far from the city, of course he let you pick the field you wanted. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what to do, psychology was already your passion after all and you were being trained by the best. The only issue was Crow, how to excuse there absence. So faking an extreme injury a week before you left easily fixed that. Afterwards you packed up and went to school, a school you would never return from, not to the manor at least.

There you continued your studies, your training in all forms and your contacts with Scarecrow. The only real difficult thing was not getting caught in your less ethical studies. You spent from the age of 18 to 24 studying as much as possible in your field getting both a bachelor’s and master’s. The plan was to go for a PHD too, but sadly things were interrupted and you quickly returned home. Your dad, Scarecrow was extremely injured during a fight and was in the hospital. Someone needed to step up, that person was you.

This time your outfit changed once more, it made you look even bigger and bulkier then you were. A cloak with a feathered collar, iron gloves with clawed ends, the faceless bird helmet looking even more imposing. Everything in your power to make you look as menacing as possible, large and imposing, a night to rival the knight. As you were making your return known you discovered something interesting, a new Robin, a baby brother. Dispute your issue with your family something about this was exciting. You felt so happy and you didn’t know why, but the fact he’s a Robin? Well, the kid needed to be taught a very important lesson before he learned it the hard way.

It wasn’t hard leading him to Wayne tower by himself. Kid had the skills but no discipline, reckless and willing to do anything to prove himself worthy. You can relate, which is way it has to be you who dose this. You approach the 10 year old boy from the shadows “you came alone hatchling?” You say in a soft voice. He jumps away and wipes his head around to face you eyes wide, he pulls out his sword and points it at you. “How-“ “a magician never reveals there secrets” you say playfully “now put the sword down baby bird” he doesn’t just glares at you. He then lunges forward aiming for your throat, but it wasn’t hard to grab the blade and rip it from his hand. He stares at you wide eyed as you throw it to the other side of the building, he quickly reorganize himself and throw a punch. But you dodge it, each kick and punch he sent was easily avoided.

As he moved to kick your head you grabbed his leg, and pulled him away. “You know” you begin walking to the edge tone not changing, “in nature Crows and Robins have an interest relationship. Crows are an omnivorous creature, they don’t just eat seeds and nuts like some people will have you believe. They’ve even been reported to peck out the eyes and tongues of lambs. Robins are no exception,” you hold him over the edge and watch as his eyes widen. He squirms and yells, “Crows will actually protect the nests of Robins, for a fee of course.” Batman should appear any minute now. “There young, they take and feast on the eggs and hatchlings. They basically farm them, it’s fascinating really. Crows are one of the smartest birds, about as intelligent as a 7 year old human. We’re watching the first signs of the evolution of a society!” You say almost giddy, “little mafias! It’s adorable and fascinating!” “We’re are you going with this” you just stare down at him, your mask making it nothing more then a dark void. You can practically feel his presence close to you, “it’s simple really! I’ve never been payed my dues! And you’re just a hatchling that doesn’t know better” and you drop him.

Batman catches him of course, but by the time he does and gets back up the tower you’re already long gone.

——————

Sorry if it takes a while for me to post things! I haven’t been feeling great both physically and mentally lately.

#batfam x reader #platonic batfam #x gender neutral reader #x reader #neglected reader #crow reader #villain reader

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kannady · 4 days ago

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m y h o m e

pairing: sylus x fem!reader

summary: sylus sabotages your mission, but you unintentionally take things a lil too far

a/n: OH. MY. GOD. i dont have words. its my favourite thing ive ever written. im actually so so proud of it. and i had so much fun writing it. i hope ull love it too! let me know what you think. lovely idea from @sylusbiceps

genre: nsfw content, smut, sylus, love and deepspace, cunnilingus, fingering, oral (male & female receiving), p in v, established relationship, kinda soft sylus, 18+ MDNI.

You blinked in disbelief, staring at the lifeless body at your feet. The sudden gunshot had frozen you for a split second, long enough for your target to crumple to the ground, his breath ragged, then still. You dropped to your knees, pressing hard against the wound, but it was too late. Warm blood seeped through your fingers. You’d failed.

You looked up to the source of the gunshot and your eyes locked onto him.

Sylus.

What the hell was he doing here?

As usual, his face was punctuated with that smug expression. Brows slightly furrowed and a half-smirk tugging at his lips. He took slow and measured steps towards, gun still smoking in his hand. With every step, his eyes raked over you. Eyes boring into your skull, digging into your soul. Sharp and searching.

When he finally reached you, his smug expression was long gone. Instead, it was replaced with something else. Something you rarely got to see. Worry. Sylus looked worried as his eyes searched yours and his hands slowly rose up, calloused fingers brushing your cheeks.

“Sweetie, are you-”

You shoved him hard. “What the hell have you done, Sylus!?” You barked, eyes still lingering on the lifeless body sprawled beside your feet. “I needed to catch him alive!” You couldn’t help but hopelessly fall to the floor, tears were welling up in your eyes.

The last couple of weeks wanderer attacks had mysteriously increased in the city. That meant a shit ton of workload on the Hunters Association. The man lying dead was your one lead, the only lead.

He kneeled down beside you and gently reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “Sweetie, if I arrived a second too late, I might’ve lost you.” You’d hardly ever heard that tone of voice from Sylus. He cared for you, cared enough to sabotage your mission. Those words should’ve meant something, but right now they just burned.

“Do you know why I’ve been coming home so late the last couple weeks?" You cried out. "Or maybe you’ve been too busy to notice, right? But I’ll tell you why. I worked my ass off to find that bastard and you killed him! I wanted-”

“I could never-”

“-to catch him alive, Sylus, to stop the wanderer attacks. The city’s on lockdown, did you know that? Or is the leader of Onychinus just too damn busy to give a shit!?” Your voice cracked with fury and helplessness and you broke into tears. You couldn’t catch a glimpse of his face, but you didn’t need to. He just stared at you. Was he angry, surprised, sorry? You didn’t know and at the moment, you didn’t care either.

You heard a rustle of fabric as he arose and slowly backed into the darkness. Disappearing just as quietly he had arrived A moment later, Tara burst in, breathless. Her eyes darted from you to the corpse, widening.

“I came as soon as I heard! What happened?”

What were you supposed to say? My boyfriend spied on me through his mechanical crow, came to my rescue, killed the target and then vanished? You hated it, but you’d have to lie your way out of this.

“I thought I almost had him, but someone shot him and I-I..” Tara softly held your hand. “But, are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

You were just now realising the stinging pain on your neck. You touched the spot and felt droplets of blood slowly trickling down the wound. It was just a scratch. But if Sylus had been a second late, it might’ve been your throat instead.

Guilt welled up into your heart. You felt awful. But all of your effort and hard work of weeks had been for nothing. Because of him. And you hoped he’d understand it.

Things were fairly easy to take care of at the Headquarters. Turned out, your lie, technically the truth, was very convincing. You’d caught the guy, but his accomplice silenced him.

***

Sylus stayed up unusually late that night. He wasn’t exactly getting his eight hours of sleep, but he’d never stay up for no reason too. Except this night, he had a reason. He’d obviously known precisely what he was stepping into, but he couldn’t just sit back and see his woman get injured. His intentions were sincere and so was the regret filled in his heart.

So, he stayed up for hours, sprawled on the living room couch, dreading the fact that you might not come home. Maybe you’d want to avoid him, which was understandable. After what felt like an eternity, he heard footsteps. He couldn’t help but feel a sudden surge of joy, as you slowly walked in. The house felt like home now. Without wasting a moment, he scrambled to his feet with the intention of apologising, but all his hopes were shattered before he could even blink an eye. Awkwardly avoiding his gaze, you sprinted to the guest room and shut the door behind you.

Sylus stood there, agape. What had just happened? He was relieved to see you home, sound and fine. But he felt like an intruder in his own house. He’d rather you drive a stake to his heart and he’d only step closer to you.

Once again, he was left alone with his thoughts.

***

Why is he still awake!?

You’d purposely been stalling for time, but you never thought he’d stay up till 5 A.M. Usually, if Sylus wasn’t preoccupied with anything, you’d find him snoozing. Seeing him like that hurt you. You felt even more guilty than you were a couple hours ago. You hated to admit it, but he had made the right call. You could have died. And for what? The target would’ve gotten away.

You wanted to step out, acknowledge your actions and apologise. But your pride and ego wouldn’t let you. You’d said too much to him. You knew your words were harsh, even for someone like Sylus. Harsh enough to hurt him, you’d felt it the way he was looking at you. But he still stayed up to apologise even though it wasn’t his fault. What was so important about the lead? You could find a new one anyway. It wasn’t the end of the world.

It was now or never. You took a deep breath, walked toward the door, but stopped when you heard soft knocks. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Sweetie, I’ve removed my belongings from the room. I won’t get in your way anymore.”

Footsteps fading away and then gone.

***

Everything was ruined between you and Sylus. You’d forgiven him long ago. Hell, you forgave him that very day. And now you sought his apology. You’d dragged this on for two weeks now. But you were too ashamed to actually apologise and you couldn’t understand why. You loved that man, but you hated how you’d treated him. And now you didn’t want to be near him. What if you hurt him more?

With every passing day, Sylus looked different. You no longer saw that smug, half-arrogant and half-amused smirk. He just looked… blank. Everytime he entered the room, you’d pretend to be mesmerized by the intricate patterns on the sofa. You’d be talking to the twins, but fall silent as soon as you sensed his presence. They had obviously figured out something was tense, but they knew better than to pry.

After three whole weeks, you were exhausted, drained. You craved his company, his soft touches, even his voice, which you’d been deprived of since that night. You loathed how long this had gone for and you loathed yourself for it. You’d apologise to Sylus for that night and for the unnecessary silent treatment. All you had to do was wait for him to come home that night. No more games now.

In the evening, you heard the door open. Not expecting Sylus to be home so soon, you rushed into the living room but were met with the twins who were stomping toward you. Even through their masks, you could see their furious expressions.

“You need to fix this. Right now!” Luke barked.

“I don’t care how you do that, but this has gone on for way too long!” Keiran joined in.

Confusion was all over your face. “I don’t get it… What happened?”

“Oh, we’ll tell you what happened. We had a very important meeting today and five minutes in, boss is strangling the man with his Evol. For absolutely no reason! We did everything to stop him. Ran around like maniacs, screamed, banged our heads against the wall!” Luke spoke in one breath. Before you had time to process it, Keiran continued. “We’ve had enough, respectfully. So whatever you do, please, fix this. We can’t take it anymore!”

You could judge by their voices how desperate they were, but you were just as desperate to fix this. You didn’t really need their push-forward, but it was the final nail on the coffin.

“Uh, don’t worry. I was going to talk to him today, anyway. I’ll fix it.” You gave them a weak smile.

“Then you better brace yourself because boss is not in a good mood.”

Great. That was very encouraging, but you weren’t backing out now.

***

Ever since talking to the twins, you were hesitant to take any step. Afterall, you didn’t know how he felt. Was he mad at you, at how you’d treated him or at the fact that you were too full of yourself to apologise? You were terrified at the thought that he wouldn’t forgive you or even worse, wouldn’t acknowledge your presence. Just like you’d done. So you paced around your room, thinking of ways you’d approach him. Nothing seemed effective. You wanted him to feel, truly feel, how sorry you were, how much you loved him, needed him, and regretted every action of yours and every word that left your mouth that night.

At half past eleven, you heard the door open. Your heart skipped a beat and your chest felt tight. You couldn’t remember ever being more nervous than this. Your hands were quivering and your palms were clammy. You were scared. Scared of how things might go. Nevertheless, you were not going to stop. Even if things didn’t go your way, you needed him to know how you felt, that you acknowledged you had wronged him countless times the last three weeks.

You waited for him to go up to the study room and followed a minute or two later. Your legs were losing strength and you could throw up any moment. Somewhere deep down, you knew you were overreacting, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You were clueless as to why you felt so nervous, terrified. Standing at your door, you contemplated and mentally went over what you were going to say.

Deep breaths and a knock.

You waited a couple seconds. While you were deciding whether to knock again, go in or leave, you heard a voice call out. “Come in.”

Your heart was beating too fast now, anyone standing nearing you could hear it. You’d hoped to keep everything straightforward and not beat around the bush, but you didn’t even know how you were going to start the conversation.

Taking in another deep breath, you slowly pushed open the door and walked in. There he was. Looking just how you’d left him, hurt and heart-broken. He stood by the desk, cleaning his gun while staring into the distance. As you walked in, his eyes locked onto you. Instinctively, you looked away.

Your heart hurt now and you wanted to cry. This was your instinctive reaction after looking at the man you adored, craved and would do anything for? Forcing yourself, you turned to look at him. He stared at you blankly. You couldn’t discern how he felt or what he was thinking. But it was too late to back out and you weren’t gonna.

“Hi.” You tried to lift your lips into an awkward smile.

He tilted his head, trying to read your expressions or maybe your thoughts. “Hi.”

How am I going to do this?

Everything you had prepared was long forgotten now. You just stood there like a statue, fiddling with your skirt. You couldn’t do it while looking at him, your pride and ego were still a stubborn barrier. Taking a deep breath, you spoke out.

“Sylus, I-I know what I did was wrong and so ungrateful of me. You were right, I could’ve died. I’m so, so sorry for everything that I said and did up till now. I don’t know why I’ve been so stubborn to come clean. Maybe I was too proud to admit I was wrong or maybe I-I… I just want you to know that I really am so sorry and I understand if you don’t want to forgive me or if you want me to move out. That’s totally up to you. I’m not forcing you into any decision. But it’s been weighing on me for weeks now and I feel terrible that I hurt you.”

You uttered everything in one breath like a parrot. When he didn’t respond, you looked up at him. He placed the gun on the table and slowly walked toward you. You bit your lip. You felt the moment you let out the breath you were holding, you’d burst into tears and that was the last thing you wanted right now.

Under the bright light, you took a good look at his face. His brows were slightly raised up and his eyes… his eyes were sparkling. The moment he was a step away, he cupped your cheeks and locked his eyes onto yours. His gesture was the last straw and you couldn’t hold back your tears now.

“I’m so sorry, Sylus! You don’t know h-how sorry I am, and I can’t-”

“Shh, sweetie. It’s alright.” He didn’t sound like he usually did. It was almost vulnerable.

He enveloped you into his arms, while you sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. All your emotions were suddenly bombarding you and you couldn’t do anything but cry them out, while he gently pat your head.

After a few minutes, you pulled away from his warm embrace and met his gaze. “I’m truly sorry, Sylus. I don’t know how to apologise for what I’ve done-”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I was never mad at you.” You frowned, while your eyes searched his. “I should be the one apologising. I ruined that mission of yours.”

“That was nothing! I don’t even care about that anymore. I was going to apologise but I’m sorry it took this long.” You raised your hand to wipe a warm tear that trickled down his cheek. You couldn’t see your man like this. Seeing him hurt, hurt you more.

You stood on your toes and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. But before you could pull away, he slipped his arm round your waist and deepened the kiss. It wasn’t passionate, but it was proof of how much he missed you and how everything was coming back to the way it had been.

Out of breath, you both pulled away and you rested your forehead against his. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more, sweetie.” And his lips found yours again.

The kiss lingered, soft and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness. Sylus's fingers traced the curve of your spine, pressing you closer as if he feared you might slip away again. His lips moved against yours slowly, savoring the taste of you after weeks of absence.

You sighed into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. The tension between you had been unbearable, but now, it melted into something else. A slow, simmering heat.

Sylus pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "You have no idea," he murmured, voice rough, "how much I've wanted to touch you."

A shiver ran down your spine at the hunger in his words. You pressed forward, capturing his lips again, this time with more urgency. His grip on you tightened, and you felt the shift in the air.

His hands slid down to your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the edge of his desk. Papers scattered, forgotten, as he stepped between your thighs, his body flush against yours. The hard press of his aching cock against your core made you gasp, and he swallowed the sound with another deep kiss.

"I'm not letting you go tonight,” he growled against your lips, fingers working at the buttons of your shirt. "Not until I've had every inch of you."

You arched into his touch as he peeled the fabric from your shoulders, his mouth following the path of his hands,kissing, nipping, worshiping. His teeth grazed the curve of your neck, right where that wound had been, and you shuddered, remembering how close you'd come to losing everything.

"Sylus," you breathed, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He responded by dragging his tongue over your collarbone, then lower, until his lips closed around one peaked nipple. You gasped, back arching as he sucked gently, his free hand teasing the other. The slow, deliberate way he touched you was maddening, each stroke of his tongue, each brush of his fingers was unraveling you piece by piece.

You tugged at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He chuckled darkly but obliged, shrugging out of his jacket and shirt, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his collarbone, and felt his breath hitch.

"You’re such a tease," he muttered, but his voice was thick with desire.

You smirked up at him before flicking your tongue over his nipple, earning a low groan. His hands gripped your thighs, fingers digging in as you continued your exploration, kissing down his abdomen until you reached the waistband of his pants.

Looking up through your lashes, you made quick work of his belt, then the button and zipper, freeing his cock. He was already hard, thick and flushed, and you couldn't resist wrapping your fingers around him, stroking slowly.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip before taking him into your mouth, savoring the weight of him on your tongue. His fingers tightened in your hair, not guiding, just holding, as you worked him with slow, deliberate sucks.

"Kitten," he groaned, his voice strained. "If you keep doing that, this'll be over before it starts.”

You pulled back with a sinful pop, licking your lips. “Then maybe you should take control."

His eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, he lifted you off the desk, carrying you to the nearby couch. He laid you down gently, his hands roaming your body as if re-memorizing every curve. Then his mouth followed. Kissing down your stomach, over your hips, until he reached the apex of your thighs.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down agonizingly slow before tossing them aside. Then he settled between your legs, his breath hot against your core.

"I've missed this," he murmured before dragging his tongue through your folds.

You cried out, fingers twisting in the cushions as he licked into you, slow and deep, savoring every taste. He took his time, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks over your clit, building the pleasure until your thighs trembled.

"Sylus, please-” you begged, hips lifting.

He hummed against you, the vibration making you gasp, before sliding two fingers inside, curling them just right. Your back arched off the couch as he worked you with his mouth and fingers, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough.

And you did, shattering with a cry, your body pulsing around his fingers as he coaxed you through it, licking up every drop.

Before you could catch your breath, he was kissing his way back up your body, his cock pressing against your entrance. He paused, forehead resting against yours.

"Look at me," he whispered.

You opened your eyes, meeting his darkened gaze as he pushed inside, inch by inch, filling you completely. He didn't move at first, just held you there, joined, breathing each other in. Then he began to rock into you, slow, deep thrusts that had you clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

"You feel so good,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “So fucking perfect."

The pace was unhurried, every movement deliberate, every drag of his cock against your walls sending sparks through your veins. He kissed you as he moved, swallowing your moans, his hands roaming, gripping your hips, skimming your ribs, cupping your breast.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned, his rhythm faltering for just a second before he regained control.

"Not yet," he gritted out, slowing down even more, drawing out the pleasure until you were writhing beneath him.

"Sylus, I need-”

"I know," he breathed, finally reaching between you to circle your clit. "Come with me."

The combination of his fingers and his cock was too much. You came with a sob, your body clamping around him as pleasure crashed over you. He followed with a groan, spilling inside you, his hips stuttering as he rode out his own climax.

He collapsed against you, both of you breathless, sweaty, and utterly spent. But he didn't pull away, just held you close, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your lips.

And when you thought it was over, his hands began to wander again, his mouth trailing lower. "Round two?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

He smirked, that familiar, smug expression you'd missed so much. "Sweetie, the night's just getting started."

And true to his word, he took you again. And again. Until dawn crept through the curtains, and neither of you could move.

But this time, when you fell asleep, it was in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

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milkis-deepspace · 9 months ago

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sylus x reader - period pains

a/n: this is very self-indulgent^^ features established relationship and just fluffy goodness

being on your period is never fun. for around a week you have insane cravings, unbearable cramps and some major mood swings. truly horrible in all honesty. but the most embarrassing part was how needy you were especially now since you were in a relationship.

sylus is prepared for anything when it comes to you. ever since you've stayed over at onychinus' head quarters - he has made sure that anything you would ever want or need, would be at your disposal.

heating blanket? bought already.

pads and tampons? they’re placed in the cabinet under the sink, right besides sylus' skincare.

medicine? you knew where they were.

a massage? that... that was unexplored territory. while you and sylus were in a relationship and were quite touchy-touchy, asking for a massage seemed intimate. but then again, this might be the hormones talking. but would he think you were weird for requesting that? probably not, sylus would without a shadow of a doubt accept (almost) any of your requests. but would you really ask the mr. sylus qin - the already extremely busy leader of onychinus who had mephisto track your every move? speaking of the damn bird...

“i got a call from a little birdie saying a certain person has been in pain all day and didn't want to quote unquote bother me,” sylus enters the bedroom and takes off his jacket.

tsk, of course mephisto had tattled on you! that damn crow, someday you would make the crow heed under your command but today was not that day…

“sometimes it isn’t this bad, so i thought it would be okay,” you mumbled, curled up on sylus’ bed. it seemed as if the cramps intensified and sylus went over to sit beside you, his eyes filled with worry.

"tell me, how can i be of help to you?”

you glanced at him and shyly considered your answer. “well, uhmm, do you mind if- uh could you maybe give me a little massage…?”

sylus chuckels and easily complies to your request.

with a heating blanket placed under you to relieve the stomach cramps and sylus' warm hand massaging your back, you couldn’t help but to feel so immensely content. his big hands were perfect to warm you and his soothing voice was an anchor to keep you sane.

“you tell me if it’s too hard alright? i don’t want to unintentionally hurt you,” his thumbs pressed into your lower back, making sure to focus his strength on the tip of his fingers. his thumbs worked in circles, hands moving up and down, getting every tense spot.

his fingers worked like magic on your back. every touch, every caress made you fall into a state of heavenly bliss. just how did he learn to massage that well?

"do you want me to go harder? or softer? you need to remember to tell me, sweetie,"

"mngh, it's good. keep going," you replied with your eyes closed. you didn't want to break this moment - and you almost felt tempted to stay in sylus' bed forever - as long as every worry you had dissappeared.

"shh, just relax. i got you,"

his hands move up to your upper back and massages between your shoulder blades. a couple of days ago, you had remarked about how sore you were - it was meant as a fleeting comment - but it was something sylus was determined to remember. who was he if not the person to take away your pain? just mention whatever you want and sylus would make sure it would happen.

your pain eased away and pleasure replaced it. he noticed how much more relaxed you were now, and proceeded to lie down besides you. while you had fallen asleep, sylus gently played with your hair. it was still a wonder to him that you were here, in his bed, just making yourself at home.

after what felt like 9 hours were merely half an hour and you were still cuddled up with him and as the pain subsided you noticed how tired you truly were. a yawn escaped from you - and sylus' chuckle almost brought you back to reality.

“you’re welcome to fall asleep again sweetie,”

sylus saw the pure look of exhaustion and adorned your face with kisses and gentle touches. from your forehead to your jawline, sylus adorned your every feature with careful, loving pecks.

you fell victim to the lullaby that was sylus' heartbeat and when your breathing turned even, sylus too decided to join you in dreamland.

#sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lnds #l&ds #sylus #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus qin #sylus x you #milkiway writes #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace mc #otome game

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vibelladonna · 3 months ago

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✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo has officially claimed the spot as MY favorite character in TKATB. Honestly, It’s well-deserved. As an asexual person writing about an asexual-coded character, I have to say—there’s something about him that just hits differently.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

It’s like he sees you in a way that most characters don’t. And let’s be real, when Geo looks at you, it’s not just some fleeting glance—it’s intense, calculated, almost suffocating.

But romantic?

Nah. With him, it’s something else entirely.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Okay, so let’s talk about Geo as a boyfriend. First of all, congratulations on making that happen. Like, seriously, how did you pull it off? If you’re dating Geo, consider yourself very lucky.

Nah, he's lucky for dating you.

Because let’s be real, Geo is not the type to just open his heart to anyone. This man’s walls are practically made of steel, and I’m sure it took some serious patience, persistence, and probably some sorcery to get him to even consider letting you in.

But hey, you did it. So now you’ve got yourself the most stoic, broody, and incredibly hot boyfriend. So let’s break it down!

✑ The Silent Observer

Like said, getting close to Geo? Oh man, that was like trying to break into a vault without the code. And let’s be honest, at first, you probably weren’t even trying to get to him—he just happened to be standing there while you were hanging out with Crowe.

But of course, Geo being Geo, he’d hit you with those cold, piercing stares that made you question every single life choice.

And don’t even get me started on his bluntness. He’s the definition of the strong, silent type. He only speaks when he thinks something needs to be said, which means you’re never getting any filler or small talk from him. It’s not that he’s rude—he just values words and doesn’t see the point in wasting them.

He’d just say it. Straight up. No filter.

However, he does talk—pretty much one sentence though, it’s worth listening to because you’ll quickly realize how sharp he is. Geo’s intelligence and observant nature are on another level too…

The kind of observant where he notices everything. He’s like that one friend who knows all the drama without ever saying a word. While Brittany would spill the tea loudly and proudly, Geo keeps it all locked away in that steel trap of a brain. He’s always watching, analyzing, and probably always two steps ahead.

It’s part of what makes him such a great strategist but also why he’s so cautious about trusting anyone.

So, instead of running for the hills like most people would, you stayed. And honestly? That’s probably what made him start noticing you. You didn’t back off, didn’t try to fix him, didn’t push him to be someone he’s not—you just… stuck around.

Geo doesn’t do well with people who pry or force their way in. But the fact that you respected his space and still made the effort to be there?

Yeah. That got to him.

Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

What’s crazy is how much he notices. Stuff about yourself that even you haven’t realized? Yeah, he’s already picked up on it. He’s the kind of guy who remembers your favorite drink, the way your fingers fidget with your sleeves when you're anxious, or that offhand comment you made weeks ago about something you wanted.

It’s honestly a little unsettling how much he takes in, but at the same time? It’s one of the ways he shows he cares.

Geo’s not the type for over-the-top romance or constant sweet talk, but his actions?

Louder than words.

He’ll fix something before you even realize it’s broken, hand you exactly what you need before you think to ask, and make sure you’re taken care of in ways that feel so effortless it’s almost unfair.

And when he does say something heartfelt? You know it’s real. Because Geo doesn’t just say things for the sake of saying them. When he speaks, he means it.

Again, he picks up on everything. The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love is the exact moment you start zoning out because you're tired.

He stores all that information away like it’s second nature—and then he uses it to make your day without you even realizing it.

now i'm rambling here

Like, don’t be surprised if your favorite snack just magically appears when you’re having a rough day. Or if you casually check your bag one day and find tickets to that movie you’ve been dying to see—no note, no explanation, just Geo making sure you get what you want without making a big deal out of it.

If you ask him about it? He’ll just shrug like, “What? You wanted it, didn’t you?”

And let’s not even get started on your birthday. Geo is ridiculously rich—it’s not even funny. He pretends he might forget (just to mess with you), but he’s had a reminder set forever, not that he needs it.

At the end of the day, Geo’s way of showing love isn’t flashy—it’s in the details. He pays attention. He remembers. He knows you probably better than you know yourself. And honestly?

That’s what makes it so unfairly attractive.

✑ Low-key Romantic

Alright, let’s be real—Geo isn’t the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve. If anything, he’s probably got it locked away in a vault with a “Do Not Disturb” sign and a security system to keep everyone out.

But when Geo cares? He cares.

No half-measures, no second-guessing. Like I KNOW he's no heartless now.

If he lets you in—which, let’s be honest, is a miracle in itself—you have his full, unwavering loyalty. And why would he want anyone else? Geo’s not the type to jump from person to person.

When he chooses you, he chooses you.

That said, he’s also not about to make a big spectacle out of it. He keeps his love life locked down tight—partly because he’s private, but mostly because he refuses to let you deal with the chaos that comes from his fanbase and personal life.

He hates the idea of you getting swarmed by fangirls the way he does or his father knowing about you.

But that doesn’t mean he hides your relationship entirely.

Once in a blue moon—maybe once or twice a month—he’ll drop a little something on his Insta story. Just a picture of the two of you together. Your face? Hidden. No tags. No captions. But his friends and fangirls lose their minds over it every single time.

Because let’s be real—you’re both ridiculously attractive.

They'll eat it up.

And listen, Geo isn’t about that over-the-top romance or dramatic love confessions. He’s not the type to shower you with sweet words or be all over you in public—PDA? Yeah, it's not really his thing.

Hate is a strong word, but let’s just say he’s not a fan.

When you first start dating, physical affection is practically nonexistent. But the closer you get, in private? Oh, ohhh, you realize real fast—this man is touch-starved. Like, embarrassingly so. He won’t outright say it but quietly melt into your touch when you play with his hair.

His favorite spot? Your lap. Or chest.

Geo lives for lying there while you run your fingers through his hair-shockingly soaking up your warmth like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. After a long, exhausting day of archery practice? Yeah, that’s his go-to way to unwind.

Now, when it comes to kisses, this man is sneaky.

His favorite spot to kiss? Your neck. Why?

Because he likes watching you absolutely malfunction. Geo loves getting a reaction out of you, and nothing flusters you quite like that.

As for him? He likes being kissed on the cheek (if you can reach it, that is). Something about it feels so innocent and genuine—a rare, pure moment in the mess of a world he deals with daily.

Also, let’s talk about jewelry: Necklaces or rings, for example. Not as much or for any deep reason—he just thinks they look cool, and he likes looking cool. But here’s where it gets cute: he buys you a simpler ring to his that matches your vibe.

Nothing fancy, still expensive just a simple little reminder that you’re his, and he’s yours. You wear them every day, and they become something sentimental.

And the best part? Before archery matches, Geo’s been caught kissing the end of his necklace or ring for good luck. And when you tease him about it later? He doesn’t even flinch.

He just deadass looks at you and goes, “Yeah, I thought you’d send me the luck I needed to win. Not like I needed luck though—I’m just that—”

Just shut him up with a kiss already.

✑ Protective But Not Overbearing

Oh, Geo’s insanely protective—like, the kind of guy you just know has your back, no questions asked. But don’t get it twisted—he’s not clingy, not overbearing, and definitely not the type to smother you.

That’s just not his style.

He’s more of a silent guardian type, always watching, always aware, but never in your way. He trusts you to handle yourself, and honestly? That says everything. Geo knows you’re capable, and he’s not about to hover like some overprotective watchdog.

But let’s be real—if someone steps out of line with you?

Oh, it’s game over.

Geo may seem calm and composed most of the time, but when it comes to you? That sharp tongue of his? Lethal. He’s not loud, he’s not dramatic—he’ll cut people down with a single sentence and leave them wondering where they went wrong.

And let’s not forget—this man is an archer. If someone really pushes their luck, they better hope they’re nowhere near a target, because one glare from him and a perfectly-placed bullseye is all it takes for people to get the message loud and clear.

No threats are needed. Just precision.

The best part? Geo doesn’t do theatrics. No chest-puffing, no dramatic speeches—he shuts down nonsense with a few words and an energy so cold it could drop the room temperature. And maybe, just maybe, he’d beat the absolute shit out of someone in secret. Not that he’d ever tell you, of course.

But you’d know.

Because, well… you have a habit of playing with his hands when you’re both just chilling on the couch, and he lets you. Always. Which is exactly how you spot it—bruised knuckles, faint red marks across his pale skin, like he just went a round or two with someone’s face.

You narrow your eyes, tracing over the fresh marks. “Geo.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone. “What.”

“What happened to your hands?”

His fingers twitch slightly, but his expression stays flat. “Nothing.”

You glance between him and his definitely-not-nothing knuckles. “Oh, really? So, what, did you punch the air too hard?”

Geo exhales sharply, finally meeting your gaze. “You ask too many questions.”

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “And you deflect too much.”

For a second, it looks like he’s about to actually answer. Then, without missing a beat, he shifts entirely. “Hey, did you see that dumbass thing Deryl did today?”

You blink. “Geo—”

“No, because seriously, this idiot tried to—”

And just like that, the conversation is over. You could push it, but knowing him, you’d be sitting here for hours listening to him insult Deryl instead of getting an actual answer. So, for now, you just sigh and go back to playing with his fingers.

You’ll find out eventually. You always do.

That being said… he might keep you away from his older stepbrother, Hyugo, just to be safe. And honestly? Probably for the best.

At the end of the day, Geo’s way of protecting you isn’t about control—it's about making sure you’re safe without ever making you feel trapped. And honestly? That kind of quiet, no-BS loyalty?

It’s unbeatable.

✑ He Knows, always.

Geo? Oh, trust me, he absolutely knows how you’re feeling at all times, and he’s not shy about using that to his advantage.

Like I said, this man is fully aware you think he’s hot, and he uses that like a secret weapon.

If you’re mad at him? He’ll stand there, nodding along like he’s paying attention, but his eyes? Oh, they’re locked onto your face with that look—intense, unreadable, the kind that just stops you in your tracks.

Suddenly, whatever you were mad about doesn’t seem so bad because, holy hell, why is he looking at you like that? And if you somehow manage to keep your train of thought for, like, half a second?

He turns it up.

Without a word, he’ll gently cup your cheek WITH ONE HAND, tilt your face up so your eyes meet stern but soft eyes ofhis, and just like that? Poof, every rational thought you had flies out the window. Like how are you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks like that?

It’s impossible.

He knows it. You know it. Game over.

But it’s not just about teasing you or getting a rise out of you—Geo actually listens. Like, for real. When you’re upset, he’s not the type to bombard you with empty words or push you to talk. Let’s be real, the dude doesn’t do feelings.

Instead, he just sits next to you, hands you tissues like he’s a human Kleenex, and lets you lean on his shoulder without saying a word. His presence is like a steady rock in the middle of a storm.

No talking is needed. He’s just… there. Solid.

And, honestly, it’s pretty damn comforting. It’s not that he doesn’t care—he just has his own way of showing it.

A slow, silent walk to clear your head. A softened tone when he speaks. A steady hand on your back when words don’t feel enough.

And look, this is something I find insanely attractive, but when you’re just having a normal conversation with him?

Geo will hit you with the ultimate power move—leaning back in his seat, raising an eyebrow, smirking just enough to make your heart stutter. He’ll hum, all low and lazy, like, “Mhm? Oh, really?”

And the worst part? He’s fully aware of how your face heats up when he does it.

Yeah. He’s the worst. And also so unfairly hot.

✑ Tailored to You

Geo and the five love languages? Well… Spoiler alert: this man is low-key okay at all of them, even if he’ll never admit it.

— Words of Affirmation?

So… Compliments?

Yeah, don’t hold your breath. He’s not going to gush about how you’re the most incredible person on the planet.

But when he does say something nice? Oh, it means something. If Geo tells you, “That was impressive,” just know he’s basically screaming, “I’m so proud of you” on the inside.

And if you ever compliment him? Expect a half-hearted shrug and a muttered, “I guess,” but deep down, you know he’s preening like a cat that just caught a mouse.

— Acts of Service?

This is where Geo shines. He’s not going to say, “I love you” outright, but he’ll carry your bag, or make sure you’re eating when you’ve had a rough day.

Dating Geo means having someone who sees you, even when you think no one else does. He’s a protector, a confidant, and someone who keeps things real—all wrapped up in a broody, mysterious package.

Need something heavy moved? Done. Can’t open a jar? No problem. He’s like a one-man life support system, quietly taking care of you while pretending it’s no big deal.

— Receiving Gifts?

Geo doesn’t do flashy gifts, but when he gives you something? It’s weirdly specific and thoughtful. Like, you’ll casually mention liking a certain anything once, and boom—it’s sitting in front of your door the next day. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, though.

“Oh, I just saw it at the store,” he’ll say, even though you know he went out of his way to get it.

— Quality Time?

This one is Geo’s bread and butter. He’s all about meaningful moments. Forget big group hangouts or extravagant plans—he’d rather spend a quiet evening with you, just existing in the same space. You could be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, and he’d still find a way to make it feel special.

And if you’re both just sitting in silence, reading or scrolling on your phones? That’s peak romance for him.

— Physical Touch?

All right, let’s be real—Geo isn’t big on touchy-feely stuff. He’s the type to freeze up if someone hugs him unexpectedly. But with you? He warms up to it. He’s still awkward as hell at first, but over time, he’ll start initiating small touches—a hand on your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, or even holding your hand when no one’s looking.

And if you hug him? He’ll grumble about it, but he secretly loves it.

In conclusion? Geo’s love language is basically Geo Language—quiet, understated, and 100% tailored to you. He’s not going to shout his feelings from the rooftops, but if you pay attention, his actions scream, “You’re my person, and I’m not letting you go.”

✑ Tailored to Him

So you wanna know Geo’s love languages? As unique as he is and if we had to rank them, here’s the holy trinity that makes this stoic archer tick:

Geo is an independent guy, but even the most self-sufficient people need someone who understands them. He craves someone who respects his need for space but knows when to step in with the right kind of support.

— Acts of Service (His #1, obviously)

Geo isn’t the type to ask for help—he’s too independent for that. But when you step in and do something thoughtful for him without being asked?

That’s how you win this man over.

He’s got this quiet appreciation for when people notice the little things, like brewing him tea when he’s had a rough day or cleaning up his gear after practice. Bonus points if you surprise him with something related to his hobbies, like a rare Japanese opera recording or a new pot for one of his plants. Acts of service show him that you’re paying attention, and trust me, he notices.

— Quality Time

Geo doesn’t want loud, over-the-top outings or big social gatherings. In fact, the less noise and chaos, the better. What he really craves is quiet, intentional moments with someone who just gets him.

Sitting together in a cozy home, tending to his potted plants, or watching the intricate art of shadow puppetry—these are the things that speak to his soul. Geo thrives in these quiet spaces where he can relax, reflect, and enjoy meaningful companionship.

Just don’t interrupt if he’s hyper-focused on something. He’ll side-eye you into another dimension.

— Receiving Gifts

Okay, hear me out—Geo hates getting gifts, right? I mean, he literally burned the random Valentine’s Day presents people gave him that one time. Absolute menace behavior, but honestly? It’s kind of funny in a this-man-does-not-care way. But here’s the twist: Geo’s not against all gifts. He’s just very particular.

See, he doesn’t want over-the-top, flashy stuff. No giant teddy bears, love letters, heart-shaped balloons, or anything that screams “cliché.” If you even think about giving him something generic, he’ll give you that deadpan look that could shrivel your soul. However, thoughtful, personalized gifts?

That’s a whole different story.

Picture this: you show up with a sleek, modern pot for one of his beloved plants, or maybe a rare variety of seeds that he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet. Geo would never say it out loud, but inside?

He’s lowkey impressed.

Or let’s say you score him tickets to a Japanese opera—something you know he’d appreciate but would never bother getting for himself. Now, that would leave him quietly staring at you like,

“…You actually get me?”

And don’t even get me started on shadow puppetry. If you found a book about advanced techniques or a vintage lamp to use for creating the perfect shadows? You’d probably see the faintest flicker of a smile—like, barely there, but it counts.

With Geo, it’s not about spending a ton of money or going big. It’s about showing that you know him—that you’ve paid attention to his quirks, his hobbies, and the things that make him tick.

When the gift reflect his personality and interests?

That’s when you see the softer side of him, the part of him that’s secretly thinking, “...How did I end up with someone like this?”

And yeah, he might not say that, because Geo and verbal affection are basically strangers. But the way he takes care of that plant pot or treasures that opera ticket?

That’ll tell you everything you need to know.

✑ Cultural Depth

Geo’s all about his Japanese roots, but he doesn’t go around making a big deal about it. It’s in the small things—the quiet traditions he carries, the way he’ll casually drop some next-level cultural knowledge.

— Sharing His World (Quietly)

Geo isn’t the type to throw you into the deep end of his culture, but if you hang around him long enough, he’ll start to let you in. It’s like a slow reveal in a really good book—you don’t even realize you’re getting hooked until you’re deep into it.

He’ll start small, teaching you a word or two in Japanese. Nothing too complicated at first—basic phrases like arigatou or ohayou. God writing this is killing me…

But if you’re patient (and don’t butcher the pronunciation), he might hit you with the poetic, meaningful stuff. Like, “The moon tonight reminds me of home,” kind of poetic.

And food? Oh, he’s low-key a food snob, but in the best way. If he takes you out for sushi, don’t embarrass him by drowning it in soy sauce, okay? He might roll his eyes, but deep down, he’ll think you’re a lost cause.

Bonus points if you ask him to show you how to make something traditional, though. Watching him calmly explain how to roll onigiri while being so exact about it? Weirdly cute.

— Secret Nerd Side

Geo doesn’t advertise it, but he has a soft spot for traditional Japanese arts. Shadow puppetry? Yeah, that’s a thing he knows. He won’t just show you for fun, though—you’ll have to ask and even then, it’s going to be, like, the most casual display ever. He’ll make a crane with his hands in the middle of a quiet moment, the shadow falling perfectly on the wall, and act like it’s no big deal.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, wondering if he’s secretly an 80-year-old trapped in a hot college guy’s body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on Japanese opera. It’s his go-to when he needs to vibe or think. You might catch him with his headphones in, looking all stoic, and he’s probably listening to something hauntingly beautiful and dramatic. But good luck getting him to admit it.

✑ Such Spa Days

If there’s one thing you should know about Geo, it’s that he takes self-care very seriously.

Like I just know he's the type whose morning routine consists of opening the window to let in fresh air, taking a deep breath, morning yoga, skin care, meditation, and drinking his favorite tea, that's how he starts his day.

Also this man isn’t just about keeping clean—he’s practically the ambassador of flawless skin. His routine is a whole event, and don’t even think about interrupting it unless you want to be met with one of his signature cold stares.

Geo’s all about precision, from his perfectly tied low ponytail to his smooth, glowing complexion that looks like it came straight out of a skincare ad.

He’s the guy who has a shelf full of serums, toners, face masks, and creams, all neatly organized by purpose and ingredient list. Oh, and he definitely uses products with names you can’t pronounce but that sounds expensive.

He’s from the rich side of the society anyway…

Sunday nights? They’re sacred.

You’ll find Geo in full spa mode, complete with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders and maybe even some calming Japanese opera music playing softly in the background. He’ll light a candle (something subtle, probably sandalwood or green tea) and go through his routine like it’s a religious ceremony.

Cleansing, exfoliating, masking—he’s got it all down to a science.

And don’t get him started on baths. Geo’s baths are an experience. He’ll fill the tub with just the right temperature water, toss in some herbal bath salts or a soothing bath bomb, and relax like he’s starring in a luxurious retreat commercial. He even has a book propped up nearby or maybe a cup of tea to complete the vibe.

The best part? Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just about himself—it’s an extension of his personality. He values control and discipline, and his skincare routine is a reflection of that. Every step, every product, is carefully chosen because it’s his way of staying grounded in a chaotic world.

Now, if you’re lucky enough to be part of his life, he might invite you into his sacred self-care space. Don’t expect anything over the top, though. Geo’s not going to gush about it, however he’ll casually hand you a face mask or suggest a product he thinks you’ll like.

It’s his way of saying, “I care,” without actually saying it.

But be warned—if you touch his stuff without asking, he’ll probably give you a look that could freeze fire or straight up cruse you out becasue why are you touching his stuff without asking.

He’s protective of his skincare collection, and for good reason.

You’ll never forget the day you used his serum without permission and had to endure a five-minute lecture about 'proper application techniques' while he looked genuinely offended.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: Geo’s devotion to skincare doesn’t just stop with himself. Oh no, if you’re doing it wrong, he will notice—and he will step in.

Say you’re casually applying your skincare collection one day, just slapping it on like it’s sunscreen at the beach.

Geo, from across the room, will stop dead in his tracks, narrow his aquamarine eyes, and calmly say, “What are you doing?” in a tone that sends shivers down your spine.

Before you can even protest, he’s already approaching with that look—the one that says, “I didn’t want to get involved, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Geo doesn’t offer to fix your skincare routine; he takes over. He’s not the type to sugarcoat it either. “You’re wasting product,” he’ll mutter, carefully squeezing the perfect amount of serum onto his fingertips before gently patting it into your skin. “And you’re supposed to press it in, not rub it like you’re sanding wood.” And "Don't use that one, it's bleach your skin."

And honestly? He’s ridiculously good at help you.

His hands are steady, his movements precise, and for someone who doesn’t talk much, he somehow explains every step with just enough detail to make you realize how little you knew about skincare to begin with.

Geo is not one for half-measures, so don’t be surprised when he starts rearranging your entire routine. Suddenly, you’ve got a multi-step process you never asked for, complete with double cleansing, toners, serums, and a nightly mask rotation.

You didn’t even know what a niacinamide serum was before, but now you have one, and you’re using it correctly, thank you very much.

The funniest part? Geo never complains about doing your skincare. He acts mildly exasperated, sure, but you catch the tiniest flicker of pride when your skin starts glowing like his.

And while he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly likes having an excuse to take care of you. It’s his way of showing he cares without all that messy emotional talk.

But if you dare to slack off? Oh, you’ll hear about it.

“You didn’t put on sunscreen today, did you?” he’ll ask, his tone low and judgmental as he crosses his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when you age prematurely.” And yet, despite all the teasing, he’ll still hand you his favorite SPF because, deep down, he can’t stand the idea of you not taking care of yourself.

At the end of the day, Geo’s skincare obsession isn’t just about looking good—it’s about discipline, self-respect, and now, begrudgingly, making sure you’re glowing just as much as he is.

In the end, Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just a quirky habit—it’s part of what makes him who he is. It’s his way of maintaining balance, staying composed, and, let’s be honest, looking damn good while doing it.

✑ He's a Meance

Geo is a menace.

Like straight up, If you’re shorter than him? You’re an armrest now. Sorry. And don’t let the whole “stoic, too cool to care” act fool you—this man is criminally competitive. Like, sure, he looks all calm and collected, but the second you break out Uno or a board game?

It’s over. He plays to destroy, not just win. And the worst part? His trash talk is so casual yet devastating. “Huh. Interesting move,” he’ll murmur, placing his piece exactly where it ruins your entire plan. Trivia night? Good luck. This man is a walking encyclopedia and will hit you with random facts just to flex.

And yeah, he lets you win sometimes—just don’t expect him to admit it. You’ll catch him accidentally fumbling a Jenga piece or conveniently forgetting an easy trivia answer, but what if you call him out? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Straight face. No shame.

But when he loses?

Oh, it’s personal.

Beat him in a cooking challenge? Suddenly, your pancakes aren’t “fluffy enough.” Outshoot him in archery? Now he’s muttering about “beginner’s luck” like you didn’t just humble him.

Speaking of archery—yeah, he tried to teach you. At first, you sucked. Arrows were flying everywhere, and you could feel the secondhand embarrassment radiating off him. But instead of roasting you (too much), he’d sigh, adjust your stance, and mumble, “It’s not that hard.”

Then, one day? It clicked. And suddenly, you were hitting every bullseye. Geo just stared at you, then the target, then back at you. “You’ve been practicing without me.” You hadn’t, but he refuses to believe it.

Now he challenges you constantly—bullseye races, trick shots, anything to reclaim his dignity. And when you win? That subtle crease in his brow tells you everything.

But despite the wounded pride, he’s secretly proud as hell. If anyone else tries to challenge you, he’s the first to brag: “They’re best shot here.” Deadpan. Like he wasn’t just sulking five minutes ago.

Oh, and Geo’s not just competitive—he’s annoying. He lives to mess with you. Comes back from archery practice, and he's sometimes all gross and sweaty?

idk why I said this because I feel like this mf doesn't sweat or gross.

Yeah, that’s the perfect time for a surprise hug. If you try to push him off, he gets pouty—and dealing with a grumpy Geo is way worse, so you always cave. WHICH YOU HATE BECAUSE the hugs are elite just rare as hell AND HE KNOWS THAT, so it’s a win and lose for you.

And don’t even try to be romantic with his ass. Like if you send him a sweet text like. “Good morning! Please have a great day, ily <3”?

Left on fucking read. Or worse, ‘k.’ A minute later? ‘simp.’

You send back, ‘bruh, I hate you.’

He prefers video calls over texting anyway.

If he’s away at an archery match—long distance from you, he debates calling you while you’re asleep—doesn’t want to wake you, but also kinda wants to see your face.

Instead, he wakes up at stupid o’clock just to call you when you’re up, but if you ask? “Nah, just had practice.”

And you like, "Geo it's fucking 4AM over there, what."

Yeah. Sure. Keep the act up, Geo.

We all know you’re down horrendous.

✑ He's Asexual

Geo’s sex drive is… complicated, but in the most Geo way possible. He’s asexual, meaning he doesn’t experience sexual attraction, and honestly? It’s not something he actively wants or thinks about.

Morning wood? Yeah, it happens—he’s human. But is he waking you up to "fix" it? Absolutely fucking not. Man’s already in the cold shower, dealing with it like it's an inconvenience because, to him, that’s exactly what it is.

For Romantic stuff, though? That’s on the table.

Kissing, cuddling, slow intimate touches—he enjoys all of that when it’s just the two of you. It’s never about escalation with him, just the closeness. If anything, he finds more satisfaction in making you feel loved rather than anything physical.

That said, Geo loves your body—but not in a sexual way. More in the “I like how soft and warm you are, so I’m just gonna hold you forever” kind of way. When is he in cling mode?

Oh, you’re done.

You will be trapped under his weight while he mutters something about how comfortable you are.

Anyway, not that he’ll admit any of this, of course. If you ask why he suddenly pulled you into a cuddle pile, keeping you locked against his chest with an arm draped over your waist, he’ll just shrug. “What? You’re warm.”

But you know better.

rambling start here

You could be wearing the most revealing outfit ever—something that would have most guys tripping over themselves—and Geo’s reaction? A single glance, a slow nod, and a casual, “Huh. Looks nice.” That’s it.

No gawking, no flustered stammering, no immediate change in demeanor. He acknowledges it, registers that you look good, and then goes right back to whatever he was doing, completely unfazed.

But let’s be real—just because he’s not reacting outwardly doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Oh, he notices, and while he won’t say much, he’s definitely thinking about it. Not in a possessive or jealous way, but more in a “Tch. now I gotta keep an eye on every dude within a 10-mile radius” kind of way.

Especially if you wearing so fucking outrageous, like a bunny suit? Bro, he's in disbelief... like why would you wear such a thing???

Because at the end of the day, Geo is still protective. He might not be the type to hover or make a scene, but he doesn’t like the idea of other men staring at you like you’re something to be claimed.

And if he catches someone looking a little too long?

They’re getting the look—that sharp, unreadable stare that says, “You don’t want to make this a problem.”

rambling stop here

Geo doesn’t need sex, doesn’t crave it, and again, sure as hell isn’t driven by it. But if it’s something you want? He’ll do it for you—just no rush, no pressure, okay? He takes his time, always reading the moment and making sure you’re on the same page.

If you’re not feeling it? Cool, neither is he.

If you are? Just... give him a few days. Maybe a month.

And honestly? It hits at the most random times.

You’ll be chilling on the bed—scrolling through your phone, curled up with a book, idk, most likely maybe zoned out watching a show—and then, boom. Arms around you. No warning.

Just Geo pulling you in, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. No words, no explanation—just him pressing close like he needs you there.

It’s his way of saying, 'I want you.'

But instead of saying it, he just does it.

Now at first, you'll think this mf wants a hug or cuddle. Because if you asked him you want to try it and he's like "Okay, I'll think about it." Bro thought about it for like a damn month.

I don't blame him because he's most likely his first time.

So you perhaps forgot. And he can see that? So instead of straight up telling you, because you express to him so so so many times that his words can be such a damn mood-killing.

So, he'll turn you around, his hands lingering on your arms, slow and deliberate. His fingers brush against your skin, light as a whisper, giving you a second to realize what’s happening. His gaze meets yours—steady, searching—before flickering down to your lips.

A pause. A silent question.

Then, he leans in. No rush, no hesitation—just a slow, lingering kiss, deep enough to make your breath hitch. It’s soft at first, testing, then firmer as he presses closer, like he wants to memorize every second of it. His forehead rests against yours when he finally pulls away, breath steady, hands still holding you like he’s afraid to let go too soon.

This is how he tells you everything.

No grand speeches, no dramatic confessions—just touch, just presence. His way of saying 'You matter' without ever needing the words.

At the end of the day, Geo’s libido exists, sure—but you are what drives him, not sex. And trust me? When does he decide to show it?

It’s worth the wait.

✑ Flaws? There’s a few… shit perhaps like five?

Now nobody’s perfect—not even our polished, broody archer.

Geo’s got his fair share of flaws, and honestly? They add to his charm in that I-don’t-know-why-I-like-this-but-I-do kind of way.

First of all, he’s stubborn as hell.

Geo’s stubbornness could rival a brick wall and spoiler: you’re not winning an argument against him. Once his mind is made up, that’s it—game over. Whether it’s something as simple as how to fold laundry (he has a system) or something as big as life choices, he sticks to his guns like they’re glued to him.

Convincing him to budge? Good luck; you’ll need it.

Second, he doesn’t believe in second chances.

Mess up once, and that’s it—you’re done. Geo’s not the type to forgive and forget; it’s more like, “You did what? Cool, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He’s incredibly selective about who he lets in, so if someone breaks his trust, they’re out for good.

It’s harsh, but for Geo, it’s about protecting himself.

Third, picky with a Capital P.

Geo’s the kind of person who knows exactly what he wants, and if something doesn’t meet his standards? Nope. He’s picky about everything—his appearance (always flawless), his environment (no mess, no chaos), and even the people he surrounds himself with.

If you’re lucky enough to pass his “quality control,” congrats, you’ve made it to the inner circle.

Fourth, mean asf and straight-up rude sometimes.

He's the type of partner who is mean as hell but somehow still your favorite. The relationship dynamic is less sweet and affectionate and more sarcastic, begrudging, and a little toxic but in a way that keeps you entertained.

Like he's not the type to sugarcoat anything. If your outfit looks bad? He’ll tell you. If you’re being annoying? You’ll hear about it.

But at the same time, if anyone else talks down to you? He’s shutting that down immediately—because only he gets to roast you.

If you get yourself into trouble, he’s there. Not happily, not gently—he will drag you out of danger while muttering, "Are you actually incapable of making good decisions?"

He won’t outright say he cares, but the way he pulls you behind him when things get serious? Yeah. You know.

Uhh, let's see... He doesn’t say, “I love you.” Instead, it’s:

"You’re less insufferable today."

"I’d rather deal with you than anyone else."

"If you die, I’m going to be so pissed."

You just have to translate the affection.

Like mention before he will not let you win in anything just to be nice. If you challenge him to a game, an argument, anything—he’s playing to win.

But if he sees you actually struggling? That’s when he quietly steps in to help—never admitting it, of course.

He won’t admit he worries, however you’ll catch him lingering outside your place when you’re sick or making sure you get home safe.

If you call him out on it, expect immediate denial: "I was just passing by. Don’t get weird about it."

Five, Geo’s got walls on walls.

Geo isn’t just guarded—he’s practically a damn fortress. He doesn’t trust easily, doesn’t share easily, and sure as hell doesn’t need anyone prying into his business.

If you ask too many personal questions? Expect him to shut that down with a sharp look and an even sharper comment.

He’s always watching, analyzing, and second-guessing people’s intentions like he’s running a background check in real time. AKA Daddy Issues™. He’s been taught that vulnerability is a weakness, and weakness is unacceptable.

And even if you do manage to get close? Don’t think that means you’ve cracked him completely. I have a feeling Geo selectively lets people in—just enough to keep them around, never enough to feel like they have power over him.

So, what does this all mean?

Well... I mean... this is how the relationship would play out.

He’ll share things in pieces. You won’t get a full backstory—you’ll get fragments, scattered across different conversations, months apart.

He’s the king of deflection. Ask him something too personal, and suddenly, he’s talking about your issues instead.

“Why do you care?”

“And this matters to you because…?”

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself instead?”

Physical affection? Again, he'll tolerate it—on his terms. You can’t just grab his hand out of nowhere; he’ll pull away instinctively. But if he’s the one reaching for you?

That’s when you know you’ve made progress.

He might never fully open up. Even if he cares, even if he loves you, there will always be parts of him that stay locked away. Not because he doesn’t trust you—because trusting people with everything isn’t something he knows how to do.

Geo’s a tough shell to crack, and maybe that’s part of his appeal. You know the walls are high, but if you’re one of the few who gets past them? That’s when you see the rare moments of honesty, the softer side he barely even admits exist

Like I know Geo’s flaws can make him seem intimidating and hard to approach, but they’re also part of what makes him so uniquely him.

His stubbornness shows his determination, and his lack of second chances highlights how much he values loyalty and his pickiness. Well, it’s just another way he shows that he’s got high standards—whether for himself or the people around him.

Still, if you’ve made it into his inner circle, congrats—you’re probably one of the few people he truly feels safe with. And that?

That’s priceless.

Is he perfect? Nope. But would we I want him any other way? Nope.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Alright, let’s get one thing straight: Geo has serious trust issues. Self-image as a person. And honestly? Again, Daddy Issues™.

We don’t know everything about his past, but we know enough to figure out that whatever happened left him with walls so high they make a medieval fortress look like a picket fence.

Like, this man isn’t just guarded—he’s got emotional security measures in place that could rival a high-security vault.

Moat? Check. Drawbridge? Pulled up. Guard dragons? Probably.

Nobody really knows Geo. Sure, we know the basics:

He’s filthy rich. (Like, limo-picking-him-up-from-class rich.)

He’s stupidly good at archery. (If you gave him an arrow and told him to shoot a dime out of the air, he’d probably do it just to shut you up.)

His death glare could halt traffic. (And possibly cause minor cardiac arrest.)

But beyond that? Nothing.

Like my dearest readers, I kid you not, figuring him out wasn't easy.

Trying to read Geo is like trying to solve a puzzle where half the pieces are missing, and the remaining ones are written in a language you don’t understand. Every expression, every word, every reaction—he controls them so carefully it’s impossible to tell what’s real and what’s just a calculated response.

Like the only reason I’ve pieced together information about him as much as I have? Pattern recognition.

He deflects when things get too personal.

His silence speaks volumes. When he chooses not to respond, it’s usually because the truth would reveal too much.

His actions contradict his words. Geo will act like he doesn’t care, but then he’s the first one to step in when something happens. He won’t say he’s worried, but you’ll catch him watching, listening, making sure the ones he cares about are safe.

Anyway, Geo used to be High Class—fancy, untouchable, the whole package—but then bam some kind of near-accident happened, and he got booted down to the Low-Class building.

Can you imagine the whiplash? Going from being at the top of the food chain to the bottom? That kind of thing doesn’t just bruise your ego; it leaves emotional scars.

And let’s be real, Geo doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to sit down and talk about his feelings and thoughts.

And then there’s Hyugo, Geo’s stepbrother and certified mortal enemy as Geo very much claims.

If you’ve played the game, you already know the vibes. Mention Hyugo’s name around Geo, and boom—instant disgust. Like, man doesn’t even try to hide it. His whole face scrunches up like he just smelled expired milk.

And then, he hits you with the classic, “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” No explanation, no backstory, just vibes. It’s lowkey hilarious how much he’s committed to pretending Hyugo doesn’t even exist. For me.

I feel like Hyugo has something to do with Geo’s big fall from High Class. Like, maybe Hyugo was the one who caused whatever accident messed up Geo’s status. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? Who knows! But Geo clearly decided, “Yeah, you’re dead to me.” Now, the name “Hyugo” might as well be a four-letter word in Geo’s dictionary.

And then there’s Crowe—the only person Geo actually trusts. And you know that didn’t happen overnight. Crowe probably had to work overtime, chipping away at Geo’s defenses like he was mining for gold. It was probably like:

Crowe: “Hey, let’s be friends." Geo: Stares in suspicion for six months straight. Crowe: “Alright, cool, I’ll wait.”

If it took Crowe that long to get through, shit Idk how Deryl does it, probably doesn't give two fuck and still bothers Geo, what does that mean for literally anyone else?

Good luck, because Geo ain’t handing out trust like candy.

Now, let’s talk about you. The fucking MC. Geo doesn’t say much to you, but the way he just… stares at you? Constantly? It’s like he’s trying to solve some crime scene in his head, and you’re the number-one suspect. You’re just standing there like, “Uh, did I do something wrong? Or do I just look suspicious?”

Honestly, it’s so awkward and funny. Like, dude, either spill whatever you need to say or stop looking at me like that. But nah, Geo’s gonna stay quiet, because why use words when you can silently judge someone instead?

That’s the Geo experience in a nutshell.

Maybe he doesn’t trust you because of something to do with Crowe—like, maybe he thinks you’re toying with Crowe’s feelings ouch, judgmental much?. Or—plot twist—he’s onto something way bigger.

What if he already knows you’re being stalked by whatever creepy thing is lurking in the shadows, and he’s just keeping tabs to figure out why it’s after you?

Who knows?

But here’s the thing about Geo: he’s not super complicated to figure out in the game. He’s more of a supporting character—like that mysterious friend everyone secretly simps for but who tragically isn’t dateable. Pain.

He’s just this quiet, chill dude with sharp words, killer aim, and a ponytail that probably smells like fancy shampoo. And somehow, he’s still everyone’s type. Go figure.

So yeah, Geo’s like a locked box made of solid silver—fancy, mysterious, and absolutely refusing to open. Respect the whole “keeping it classy” vibe, but come on, man—just crack the lid a little!

I know he's not an easy person to love, but the way he does love?

It’s deep, rare, and real.

He’ll never fake kindness, but when he does let his guard down, it feels earned. He sees you as his equal—someone who doesn’t back down, who doesn’t let his reputation scare them away.

And that, I feel like that's enough. For me anyway

#the kid at the back x reader #tkatb vn #tkatb geo #geo oogami #subaru oogami #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb head canons #the kid at the back head canons #tkatb geo x reader #the kid at the back geo

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Sylus react gn s/o who always makes it a habit to tell him that they love him whenever they can like when they wake up, before going to sleep, before they leave, and when they return?

Hearing you say such sweet and simple words like I love you at any and every given moment will never not warm his heart, ever.

Sylus could hear you speak the words softly against his chest, right where his heart is when you wake up, almost as though you were whispering secrets to it in such a loving and caring way that it only made it race within his chest and swell with warm emotions within moments of you saying such tender and powerful words.

‘I love you Sylus, stay safe and don’t do anything stupid.’ You’d tell him as you kissed his forehead, pulling away only to rest your own head against his to stare into his crimson eyes, crimson eyes that stared back at you heavily with love and utter adoration as he chuckles. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it my love, for whom shall warm you in bed when I depart?’ He’d ask jokingly.

‘Mephisto.’ You’d reply jokingly as the crow could be heard squawking confusingly from his corner of the room, head tilted to one side.

You brought or perhaps revived a warmth Sylus thought was long buried within his chest.

You brought it forth so easily that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting nothing more then to rush his business meetings just so he could hear you run towards him, burry your head into his chest as you embraced him while telling him how much you loved and missed him; almost as though the confession weighed heavily upon your tongue like it was something you had to admit to before you couldn’t anymore.

He loved how much softer and sweeter the moments before you both drift off to sleep, the last thing he hears is you saying you love him in a sleepy mumble, face buried deep into his chest as sleep encased you both whole. It was a moment he repeats when you’re far away on a mission, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to sleep without hearing your voice, not after having gotten use to it after your short stay in his home.

Sylus has become accustomed to you being in his home, with him and blessing it with your warmth and personality. So to have to endure a week without you was enough for Sylus to reach for the phone and call you just to hear you tell him you love him, to know that even if there was distance between the two of you that the love between you was still as strong as it was when your both together. Sylus had grown accustomed to you sharing your thoughts and inner most emotions with him, with you always kissing him on the lips or wherever you could reach and whispering;

‘I love you’ afterwards before going about your day as though you didn’t leave him wanting to keep you locked in his arms in your shared bed, to drink you and your early morning look as you both partake in sharing your warmth, lost in one another as everything else fell away for it didn’t matter as all that truly mattered was love of your life that you held in your arms.

I love you was a strong word but your version of I love you was to say that you loved him after every moment, and in the end he found himself whispering ‘I love you’ against your forehead as he kissed it softly, holding you closer to his chest protectively before you fell into peaceful slumber together with a content smile upon his face.

Stylus was complete for his other half was welhere they belonged; in his arms.

Zayne would feel as though he was back to how he felt when you first admitted your feelings for him each time you reminded him of your love for him.

His smile upon his lips was soft and gentle, his eyes were equally so as he felt light on his feet and his heart sang your name so dreamily even long after you leave his sight.

They were words that one shouldn’t say lightly but when you say ‘I love you Zayne, I’ll see you when you get back from work to watch that new movie together.’ Zayne truly believed he could hear the angels sing as he finds himself walking into work with the goal of going back home to you.

Something of which he had once thought was never going to happen even in a million lifetimes, but he had found himself blessed to even be sharing a bed with you in this lifetime.

‘I love you Zayne.’ You’d whisper softly against his lips after pecking them multiple times, wanting nothing more than to wake your beautiful doctor with some much needed affection, all the while watching the fluttering of his eyelashes as he opens those gorgeous eyes of his to look at you sweetly.

‘I love you too my dearest.’ He relies in his morning voice, rubbing his hand softly up and down your back as he brought you into kiss your temple.

Those three words only made Zayne feel as though the progression of your relationship thus far was more than worth the longing and the pinning he has to endure in silence. Even though you did tell him there were moments where you knew he felt something towards you that went beyond platonic and into something far more romantic and genuine.

‘I love you Zayne’ were words that lived within his head constantly, even if he didn’t show it sometimes he couldn’t help but find himself wanting you to say it more and more.

Was it selfish? Yes but Zayne couldn’t help it, he wanted to hear you say it for as long as he possible could, for he knew he could never get bored of hearing you say it as it was something he had been waiting for all this time.

It was like two long lost souls finally finding each other again after so, so long. It brought a weight off of his shoulders and Zayne was more than anticipating where your future would lead you, especially if admiring to your love for one another was going to become easy as breathing.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace imagine #lads imagines #lads imagine #lads x reader #lads x you #lads x y/n #sylus imagine #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #zayne imagines #zayne imagine #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne x y/n

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shadesoflsk · 1 year ago

Text

THE OLD WAY

pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem reader

summary: Living at a farm and being married surely has it perks. However, Leon can't help but think something is missing.

warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (fem receiving) p in v, mating press (??), creampie, breeding kink, outdoor sex, age gap (unspecified), established relationship, fluff, Leon is so husband in this, mentions of pregnancy, domestic bliss.

word count: 4k

author's note: Hello! I had this fic in my drafts for sooo long. I was kind of ashamed to post this since it's not my usual type of content but !!! fuck it !! Ovulation goes brrr. I hope you all like it!I had an older Leon in mind but I used a re6 leon pic for funsies. (And please... don't judge the lack of creativity in my title... I didn't know what to write.)

MY MASTERLIST

City life was no longer fitting for a man like him. Job was not the same and he was afraid he might not get up from one of his falls one day. Joints no longer worked like they used to, a painful reminder of how his age was getting to him.

That's why he chose to retire, rather early for the average citizen. But he believes his position as a federal agent has aged him to the point where he could easily describe himself as an 80 years old man who needed help crouching down.

With that in mind, he wasted no time buying a home away from civilization. Money was no problem and owning a ranch now sounded like the best idea he could come up with. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time seemed to flow faster as he settled down in a peaceful lifestyle.

Solitude was very much welcomed. The sounds of blood dripping and ragged screams were replaced by the soft pitty patter of the rain and the usual rooster’s crow each morning, announcing a new day.

But, as much as he has grown to love and appreciate his simplistic routine, the monotonous daily work and the lack of companionship were hitting him hard. When night came and his thoughts clouded his rational side, he yearned for a change in his life. He was never the romantic type, never been. His previous job as an agent cut off any possibilities of having a partner and settling down like any normal person would. But years made him a sappy man, it seemed.

Life works in mysterious ways, though. He wouldn’t have thought that farm life would bring him a sweet thing like you. It all started with your car breaking down a few meters away from his farm. You wanted to thank him for his help, there was no way you would simply express your gratitude through words, not after his assistance.

So, your first visit consisted of a home-baked pie which he reluctantly accepted. Not because he didn’t want to but it had been a while since he was last gifted something. That first meeting soon turned into a couple until you were basically there every day.

“Stay with me,” shifted into a “Be my girlfriend” and therefore the “Marry me?” finally came.

You were the best thing that has ever happened in his life, a peaceful life away from any danger the city may bring and a beautiful wife by his side? God granted him the most perfect miracle ever.

He followed the milestones of your relationship to a T. Even though the lack of knowledge was sometimes obvious, he knew the basics of how to keep a girl—his girl— happy. It was in his nature to provide, and living with you meant no exception.

He always strived to do better, to be better. Your needs were always met and he took pride in knowing he was your husband. No one else but him.

However, he felt selfish when none of that actually fulfilled him. He was happy with you, don’t get him wrong. Nothing was like before when he thought he would die alone with no one who cared about him. But something in the back of his mind kept bothering him.

And ever since he realized something was missing, he couldn't help but try to find out what it was.

For days and weeks, he tried picturing the change both of you needed. More pets? You had enough with the dog you both have. Vacations? He had already taken you to the beach. More space in your home? The house at the farm was alright… Maybe a little too big for just the two of you.

Oh.

Oh…

The problem was the two of you. Or rather, being just the two of you on this big ranch.

He had come to realize that he could, in fact, dream bigger. A few years ago, he would have thought that being married was a faraway dream, unachievable and stupid. But now he’s a husband and maybe if he tries hard enough, he can get to be a family man.

However, nobody has taught him how to face these types of situations. Even when he asked you to be his wife, he needed months of preparation. How was he going to explain this desire to put a baby in you?

On one peaceful night, he was spooning you as always. It was his favorite activity after taking care of his chores at the farm (and even doing some of yours just so you could relax more). But even when there was nothing but a comforting silence, his thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding his mind.

He let one of his hands rest on your abdomen, caressing the skin there with circular motions. He tried closing his eyes to prevent more of those thoughts from coming to his mind yet it was useless. His imagination was running wild when he pictured you carrying a life in your belly, swollen and round, the perfect scenario.

He imagined taking care of you. Of course, his pretty wife won’t do anything if she’s next to him. There was no way he wouldn’t take that opportunity to show her how much of a man, a good man he was.

Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested behind you, he spoke before even thinking what he was supposed to say.

“You would be a good mom, you know?” It slipped out of his mouth, he should’ve used a more discreet way of speaking his mind. Now it was too late to draw back.

“What?” You chuckled as you turned your head to look at Leon. “I’d look great as a mom?”

“Yeah.” He whispered, finally admitting his desire to have a family. “What do you think?”

He wouldn’t push the matter if you don’t feel the same. As much as he loved the idea of having mini versions of both of you, there was no way he would force you to do it.

“Mhm… I think you’d also be a great dad.” Your voice was as soft as his, indulging in this little moment of intimacy and raw honesty.

The word dad rings in his mind. His life before having his ranch was violence-filled, then years of solitude surrounded by nothing but nature cornered him to think that being alone was his destiny. Now, you brought him a newfound desire to come back home and finding you and your child. A family.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Leon had a silly smile formed on his face. His dreams were actually achievable and domesticity and tranquility were now his everyday life.

“We can try if you want.” You added, feeling how Leon continued drawing shapes on your stomach. “How many would you like?”

Leon didn’t think he would get this far.

“Want me to be honest?” Leon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind having an entire football team with you.” He joked, hearing how you gasped in response.

“Leon!” You slapped his hand out of your abdomen. “I’m the one having them!”

Both of you laughed as the night embraced both of you like a blanket. Confessions have never been so much welcomed as tonight’s.

“I love you.” He murmured as his eyes closed. It was a reassurance that whatever life had in store for both of you, he would gladly accept it.

“I love you more.” You replied with the same fondness as always. Drifting off to sleep was easier than ever.

Days passed and the conversation wasn’t forgotten. Nonetheless, you let the flow of time and life decide for both of you.

Daily chores needed to be completed no matter what. So, he’s now washing his hands after feeding the horses. You’re holding the garden hose which makes a wet mess given the force of the water.

“Didn’t know it was raining.” Leon jokes as the water soaks his shirt and pants.

“Shit, sorry.” You turn off the garden hose as you giggle watching how drenched Leon looks.

And while you are genuinely sorry since Leon still has things to do on the farm, you can’t help but appreciate the image your husband is offering. White shirt now see-through, giving you the perfect view of his soft abdomen clinging to the fabric.

When you first met Leon, he had told you what an amazing body he had. With so much pride, he once showed you pictures of his past self. Images of a toned torso and strong arms would look appealing to your eyes. But each time Leon and you are intimate, you get to feel his slightly rounder belly pressed against you, his strong arms clinging to you. In those moments you can’t help but thank God for the gorgeous man you have.

“Enjoying the view?” Leon breaks the silence when he feels your eyes not leaving his body.

“Maybe…” You quietly whisper as you drop the hose and walk closer to him. “Can’t help it, my husband is so handsome.” You add, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Inevitably, you inhaled the scent you have grown to love.

For a moment, you stay there, just drowning in the affection letting your hands rest on his sides unaware of how Leon could feel the slight friction of your breasts against his soaked shirt. The thin fabric of your dress does a poor job of preventing Leon’s hands from wandering around your body.

A pool of arousal starts setting in Leon as he reaches your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.

With one swift and smooth move, he lifts you off the ground. Your feet are no longer touching the floor as Leon walks away from the barn. And, as if on command, you wrap your legs around his torso, allowing him to walk easier to whatever destination he had in mind.

For once, Leon hates the fact that he owns a big ass farm. His place is a bit far away from the barn, so his decisions are fogged by the desire and neediness he is feeling at the moment. Years in solitude led him to think he was imponent but with the way his jeans seem to get tighter each time your lower half brushes against his, he knows it's not true.

He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong. He’d have picked you up and carried you to his bedroom as usual, laid you on the bed, taken off your clothes, and fucked you gently (or rough) like he usually did. However, a newfound wish piqued his interest, and even though you're in a secluded area, he wishes everyone would know what pretty girl he got.

Without further thinking and no complaints made, he places you down on the grass. The sensation of the blades tickling your skin is, in a way, bothersome, but your brain is easily turned into mush every time Leon dares to touch you.

Leon, however, wouldn’t allow you to feel any discomfort. His sun-kissed skin would be exposed in swift motion as he takes off his wet shirt. Those antagonizing seconds of admiring him unbuttoning the fabric push you to press your thighs together, seeking any type of release or mere pleasure.

“Up,” And after those endless seconds of him taking off his shirt, his hand taps your hip, motioning you to lift the lower half of your body for him to lay his shirt there. Giving no second thoughts, you raise your rear, pathetically quick, and Leon notices. “So needy, have I been slacking off?”

And his tone gives him away. He is looking forward to letting nature be the witness of your lustful acts. The sun being your light and the grass your makeshift bed. His body embraces the position on top of you.

“Of course I have.” He cooes, bringing his face lower and lower before pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. His stubble resembles sandpaper with how it scratches your skin, but at this point, it brings more pleasure than annoyance. “Look at her, already crying for me.”

His breath tickles the middle area between your legs. The wet spot in your panties is obvious to Leon who wastes no time to bring up that fact. And you want to thank yourself for choosing a dress today because there is no way you could do anything besides laying on the grass and letting Leon treat you so nicely and tenderly.

“How could I?” He hums against the soaked patch of the fabric. “Been neglecting my pretty girl.” He presses a kiss on your clothed area, dragging down the anticipated pleasure you’re looking for.

“Mhm… please.” Your babbles gain a chuckle out of Leon’s lips. He is enjoying the whole setting, he wouldn’t have known he had a thing for outdoor sex but then again, he loves discovering new things with you.

Antagonistically, he lifts your dress until it reaches your abdomen and exposes your lower half.

And finally, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, yanking down the fabric, allowing himself to admire the way he has made a mess of you already.

As always, he was ready for his favorite meal in the whole world.

Lying on his stomach, he props up on his elbows, his mouth dives into your pussy as his tongue laps at your clit. A moan escapes your lips as the sensation of being eaten out by Leon floods your mind and soul.

He feasts like a starved man, like he is eating his favorite dessert. He delves into your aching hole, his tongue tasting the sweet and well-known flavor of your juices. He brings your legs over his shoulders, propping you to raise your lower half and reach even deeper.

“Shit,” Your fingers tangle in his dirty blond hair, shoving his face into your cunt. His lips suck your clit, paying close attention to that part, drawing moans and whines out of you.

A plethora of names are being said as Leon continues being trapped between your thighs. He flicks his tongue while he feels how some of your slick drips to his stubble. And with the way your legs squeeze him even tighter, he can already guess you’re feeling so much pleasure from his tongue alone.

You arch your back, trying to bring him even closer to your core. The wet noises of his saliva and your slick mix with the outdoor ones. The soft rustling of the trees’ leaves and the birds chirping are a reminder of the scenario you both are in.

Whimpers leave your lips as Leon's tongue makes out with your cunt. Your fingers grip the shirt Leon placed as a makeshift blanket. Heat starts pooling in your belly as the antagonizing seconds of Leon eating you out bring you to the edge.

At last, your body jerks and comes undone in Leon’s grasp. He holds you in place, flattening his tongue to collect every drop of your slick. He could easily cum too just by the fact he was tasting your release.

“My sweet girl, always so perfect for me.” He finally disconnects from your pussy to crawl back to where your face is. He places some kisses on your neck which is glistening with a layer of sweat given how much pleasure you were previously feeling.

At last, his lips reach yours and he passionately kisses you. You could easily taste yourself in the kiss yet you don’t care at this very moment.

For a moment, he indulges in the tenderness of the kiss after bringing you to heaven with just his tongue alone. However, the easily noticeable restraint in his jeans was getting harder to control.

You feel him grind against you, seeking any type of friction to ease the aching feeling of his erection.

“Leon… I can’t….” Leon’s intentions are obvious as you feel his clothed dick humping your leg like a needy man yet, you are still tender from your ecstasy.

“You can��” He brings his face against the crook of your neck once again, placing wet kisses around your skin. “Just one more baby.”

He pleads, he begs, he needs to feel you wrapped around him. Those thoughts about leaving his mark, leaving his seed in you are still pretty much present. So at last, you nod. That’s when you can feel a smile forming on his lips which continue being pressed against your neck.

“Thank you, thank you.” Acting like he hasn’t touched for ages, you hear the rustle of fabric and his belt buckle falling to the ground. You see how his dick springs out of his boxers when he pulls them down, already leaking precum just from eating you out.

In less than a second, you feel him collecting your previous release, sliding his cock through your folds with such ease that it had you gripping air.

“Fuck…” He murmurs as he pushes himself painfully slowly, taking his time to feel how your walls tighten around his length. Pinned underneath him, you feel overwhelmed by the sensation of having his body so close to you.

“My pretty wife…” He whispers as he is finally all the way in. “Look at you, so pretty full of me.” He adds while one of his hands caresses your hair.

He starts gently rocking against your body, the pace is slow and comforting as if trying to remember the way your velvety walls clamp his dick, the stretch being something you’re accustomed to.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He says as he thrusts inside of you, this time a little more urgently. The hand that was previously running through your hair wraps around your waist and lifts it slightly.

“Mhm…yes.” You nod as your eyes lock with his, witnessing a newfound desire you haven’t seen before. Maybe it was the fact that both of you are outdoors, you don’t know.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix with your heavy breaths. The perfect music for the perfect scenario. As soon as Leon hits that sweet spot of yours, you whimper his name like a mantra.

And then again, the thought of a family floods his mind. The mental image of your belly stretching out, making space for the baby is everything he longs for. And not only that, but he craves to take care of you, his pretty wife. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger for the nine months of pregnancy.

“Wanna fill you up.” He finally confesses in a moan. He isn’t a stranger to dirty talk, you know it well. The way his words come out like a promise and an already-made decision is proof of his not so hidden wish. “This farm is lonely with just the two of us…”

And as he presses his forehead against yours, you see in his eyes the devotion he has for you. The same man that promised you the world is now promising a life, a new life who is going to be the perfect combination of both you and him.

“What’chu mean?” You feign ignorance just for the sake of hearing those words coming out of his mouth again. And as you try to say some more teasing words, you can feel the way his thrusts get rougher as if trying to make a statement. The statement being that he wouldn’t stop until you get pregnant.

“You know what I mean…” He is huffing by now, letting out a grunt as he utters those words. “Wanna get you nice and full.”

Ultimately, your dreams are the same as his. So you allow him to transform this dream of his into his—your—reality now.

“Yeah?” You say through your teeth, trying not to whimper from the fact that his cock is reaching so deep into you.

“Yeah.” He groans, his sticky forehead never leaving yours as he looks into your eyes and your dazed-out expression. “You’re gonna look so goddamn beautiful as a momma.”

Out of desperation to fuck you even deeper, he brings your legs to his shoulders, just like he previously did when he was eating you out. But this time, it is an attempt to let his dick mark your womb.

It is his mission to one day see a positive test. It’s his mission to show his devotion to his princess and the now-future mother of his children. He’d never stop looking at the telltale of his seed making its home in your body.

He wouldn’t let you do anything besides resting and growing your little miracle. He’d cook, he’d clean, he’d feed you if you ask him to.

“Keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna—fuck—cum…” He effortlessly bends your knees even more, bringing them closer to your chest. “Gonna fill you up until I’m so damn empty.”

He takes advantage of the vulnerable position you’re in to bring a hand to your clit. Rubbing it, he waits for the imminent climax of both of you.

“Cum for me, princess.” He presses his body on top of you, the position allowing him to let out an almost growl against your ear. The sense of purpose that Leon is showing prompts you to finally reach your climax. With a broken voice and your fingernails leaving crescent moons on his back, you coat his dick with your release. A gooey ring forms at the base of his cock every time he pulls in and out of you.

His actions don’t stop there, though. He was so close to spilling right inside you and making his dreams come true. He brings the hand that was previously teasing your clit to your face, brushing away some of your hair that has stuck to your forehead, he looks right into your eyes.

“Fucking love you so much.” He grunts, his deep sea eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to engrave this moment in his mind. To forever remember the time when he finally achieved his dream. “You’ll be the prettiest momma ever.”

Although his thrusts are too much for you to handle and the overstimulation turns into a slight discomfort, the way his hand is gently caressing your cheek—a juxtaposition of his determined attempt of marking you— makes you melt on the spot.

And especially since the cold feeling of his wedding ring reminds you of the amazing man you married.

“I'm cumming.” He warns you as his thrusts get sloppy and without rhythm. He's seeing stars at this moment, every time he plunges his dick into you he reaches the sky. And at last, with the way his breath gets laboured and heavy, it announces his high coming.

The head of his dick spurts rope after rope of cum into you, the angle you are in makes it easier for it not to drip out of you. He wouldn’t allow a drop of his seed to go to waste.

You feel the warm and thick liquid filling your insides, proof of Leon’s actions and therefore fulfilled wish. For a moment, you stay there letting his weight crush you and your bent legs.

After a while, he slowly slips out of you, carefully placing your legs on the ground. You feel the grass blades tickling your calves where Leon’s shirt doesn’t reach.

Leon rests his arm next to your head, admiring the dazed-out expression you have after letting him fill you.

“Hey…” He murmurs before letting out a soft chuckle.

“Hi you.” You respond with a smile amidst the exhaustion that is running through your veins. “We really just did that.”

“Yeah…” In his eyes, you can observe how much love he has for you and how eager he is to know if this one dream will be a reality.

With his free hand, he grabs yours and places soft pecks on your knuckles.

“Are you okay?” He once again speaks, now making sure you are alright.

“More than okay.”

He gives your knuckles one last kiss before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head while doing so.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask.

“Nothing…” He shakes his head once again. “It's just that… I may have some dad jokes already prepared.”

“Shut up, Leon.”

You couldn’t wait to know if your dreams were achieved by this act. You couldn’t wait to see if your life could get even better than this. And especially, you couldn’t wait to experience being a family.

💬 shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil

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barleyo · 11 months ago

Text

Rural Bliss.

Real Dad! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: You, as a reader, are responsible for your own media consumption. It is up to you to read the tags that I have provided and determine whether or not this is a piece of writing that you would like to partake in. If not, scroll on by, if you do, please enjoy! Remember, I am not responsible for any discomfort you feel if you choose to read this.

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), dub-con, oral (f receiving), LARGE AGE GAP (18 and 40+), pwp (light plot), mentions of predatory behavior, mutual creepiness, dark and disturbing content, choppy ass writing

Wordcount: 1.8k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Your mom had finally done it. She found a halfway decent guy and let him wife her up faster than you could say 'I do.' You weren't exactly mad about it. He was a decent enough guy, and he made your mom happy, so whatever. The only part that you were against was the fact that you would be staying with your estranged father for the rest of your summer until your mom and her boy-toy got back from their extensive honeymoon.

Your dad fucked off pretty quickly after you were born. Moved himself far away into the middle of nowhere, not once reaching out or keeping in touch. A small part of you wanted to know him, but a larger part of you was pissed that you would have to now temporarily live with a man who you could just barely remember the name of.

What was it again? Leonard? Lucas? No, no, that's not right. Leon? Yeah, something like that. Leon.

Leon, the man who left you and your mom. The man who, instead of raising you, decided to lick his wounds in the deep country, likely making a meager living off of growing potatoes and carrots. The man who was a stranger, connected to you only by blood.

The man whose front porch you were currently standing on, banging on his door without a care in the world. You looked around while you knocked. It was a large bit of land. A few neighbors nearby, but not within spitting distance. At the very least, this town had a few stores with maybe a few people your age lingering around them.

"I'm coming, damn it!" His steps were loud, you could hear them from all the way outside. The heaviness of his work boots must've weighed him down quite a bit. The screen door flew open and his face softened. "Oh, hey kid. Didn't know you'd be here so early. Come in."

You followed him inside, letting your eyes trail his face and frame. You'd only seen a picture or two of him before. He wasn't quite what you were expecting. He looked a lot older now than he did in the photos. More tired, less lively. His crow's feet and smile lines stuck out, but if the lonely, uncomfortable vibe of his house was any clue, you assumed he hadn't been smiling much in his life.

He wasn't bad looking, though. Time hasn't weathered him, and you could tell he took care of himself. His arms and chest looked strong, clearly he had found some way to stay fit out in his desolate chunk of farmer-country. You could see why your mom picked him. He looked like a good one, despite his fleeting nature.

"You're gonna be stayin' for a few months, yeah?" Leon didn't seem uncomfortable with your presence, so you felt a bit more calm.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom didn't really give me all the details, just kinda sprung it on me."

"Believe me, I know," he said under his breath. "Well, this place isn't much, 'm sure it's not what you're used to." He locked the door behind you and flashed an apologetic look.

"It's fine. I'll make it work." You looked around. It looked lived in, strangely worn despite nobody else ever living there.

He led you down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, until they reached a single room. It was a small bedroom, adorned with faded wallpaper and completely wooden furniture. The single window offered a glimpse of the bare, green landscape outside.

"This'll be your room. You can unpack your things."

Hardly a week passed by and you were already sick to death of living with your dad. His jokes were bad. His cooking was shit. His attempts at bonding with you were creepy at best and damn near-assault at worst. He let his hands drift all over you when he pulled you in for hugs and tried pecking a kiss on your mouth before you went off to bed each night, and damn it, you let him.

Again and again, every night, letting that old man press his chapped lips against yours, holding back your urge to force your tongue into his mouth.

He bought you gifts that no other fathers would think about getting their daughters. Skimpy little clothes that left nothing to the imagination, while he wrote it off by claiming ignorance.

"That's what girls your age wear, right? I can't keep up with what you kids are into," Leon would say, covering his ass with feigned dopiness.

His only redeeming quality was that he was hot and mostly oblivious. It was fucked up to think about it that way, but without having much other male contact during your stay, Leon was starting to becoming quite the piece of eye candy. The best part is that he thought nothing of it, acting like his teenaged daughter spending hours staring at his half-naked, sweaty body while he worked in the hot sun was normal. Just another day. Nothing special.

He didn't make you work on the farm with him, so you got to do all the watching. You got to see those strong arms lift hay bales for the horses and chop trees for firewood. Most of your days were spent watching him from the front porch, mentally cursing yourself out when you felt your thighs clench together instinctually at his sexy movements.

What was wrong with you?

Were years of fatherlessness finally catching up to you? Couldn't muster any real love for the old man, so sexual yearning was the next best thing? Eye-fucking your dad and sharing touches that lasted too long were the cost of him skipping out on you.

You rationalized it the best you could. Maybe you didn't actually want him, maybe the solitude of the countryside was getting to you. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of sex-pollen floating in the breeze that made you wanna get bent over by a man twice your age that just so happened to be related to you. Closely related.

Leon didn't really know how to treat a woman well, but he tried his best with you. It was his first time really being a dad, but honestly, he hated it. Being a 'dad' sucked, especially when he'd rather have his daughter as his girlfriend.

You made him so frustrated, so unsure of himself. Leon's only experience with girl's your age was in getting them liquor they couldn't legally buy themselves, fucking them like plastic sex dolls, and leaving them for someone else to woo and screw.

He couldn't quite do that to you, though. He couldn't get you drunk and take advantage of you, pumping and dumping in you without a care about your pleasure. He had to take care of you, your health and comfort. All he really wanted was to take care of your body.

You were his little girl. He'd fuck you like he actually gave a damn about you if he ever got the chance, and he most definitely wouldn't be leaving you for anyone else.

That type of thinking brought him here.

"Daddy, please..."

The walls in his house were too damn thin. He could practically hear each thrust of your fingers into your cunt from his bedroom. Your bed screeched agonizingly against the floors, punctuating your moans and hisses of pleasure.

He saw his opportunity and took it. He had waited long enough, and this was the least he could do, right? You needed him, right? Right.

He pushed your door open, not having the decency nor the self-restraint to knock. You felt your body go still, but kept your hands between your legs.

"If you needed me, coulda told me. Don't like t'hear you in here whining." Leon sat on the edge of your bed, crawling his way between your legs. "Fuck, that's pretty."

He took in the sight of your fingers stuffed into your pudgy cunt, slick dripping between each digit.

"No, you're—! this isn't what it—" you tried prying your fingers out, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Isn't what it looks like? How about what it sounds like, huh? Sounds like you want your daddy to dull that ache in you."

He was so far gone. He normally never did this. Leon was a man who took. He took younger girls virginity, mouth, pussy, or other. He was the one that got sucked off and got his perv dick wet. But for his baby? You, the little nymph who fell gracefully into his grasp? He was foaming at the mouth for a chance to slurp your pussy.

"Open up, come on. Got nothin' to be shy about," he urged, forcing your legs open, pulling your fingers out, and shimmying closer to you. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

That was somewhat of a lie. Sure, he saw pussies all the time when he bullied his cock into them, but he was normally never nose to clit, ready to lick.

He stuck his needy tongue out, lapping up the juices that you worked up when you rubbed yourself raw. He swirled around you clit as a test, trying to see what felt good for you. He soon settled on puckering his lips around your bud and sucking, swapping his spit in and out of his mouth to keep you lubed up.

Your voice broke with hushed whines and chants. Yes's and oh's rang out, filling Leon's ears and his ego.

He pulled his head back and lob a wad of spit onto your clit, chuckling when you shivered.

"Feel good?" His thumb traced your clit in little figure eights.

"Mm, s'good." Your hands trailed through his thick, soft hair. You gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to your cunt. "No, don't stop, jus' need your mouth again."

His sharp, strong nose bumped against the top of your pussy while he munched down on you greedily. His tongue traveled around you in an indecisive manner. One moment, he was using flat strokes to lick on your swollen nub, then pointing his tongue while he fucked it in and out of you.

Despite the sporadic nature of it, the warmth and wetness of the contact of his mouth on you felt like heaven. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was looking up at you with his piercing eyes and swallowing down your slick, you were satisfied.

"Dad, oh my God, yes!" It felt like venom coming off of your tongue when you moaned it, but tasted like honey at the same time. Something about it was so wrong, but felt so natural.

As your legs tightened around Leon's head and trapped him between your thighs, you knew it was meant to be. You were meant to be your daddy's princess. You were meant to feel like mouth on you, to be spoiled by his tongue, words, money, and his cock. You had been missing out on it for so long.

You spent the rest of your summer making up for lost time, discovering just what having a daddy was meant to feel like.

#smutfic #leon s kennedy x reader #cw incest #tw inc*st #dark content #dead dove fic #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 6 months ago

Note

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF THE BEST AUTHORS ON THIS PLATFORM.

I have a request is there any way you could do the “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you" prompt but with Zoro. Having a female reader just recently joined the crew only for them to be enemies. Both of them have a history of being enemies and now the whole crew sees them fight so the other is 5ft feet under. Only for them to be confused as to why their heart beats like crazy around each other.

Would really appreciate it if you did my request! 🥰🙏

Thank you so much for your kind words @mars-mizuko and @beachaddict48 🥰🥰 I love reading your reactions to my little silly stories and I tried my hardest to make you happy with this request! It turned out a bit bigger than the others, but I don't want to limit myself with the story I want to tell and I've accepted that some requests will have bigger fics than others! I do sincerely hope you enjoy this! Thank you for participating in the event and for all of your support!

Source for Pic

Backstabber

Word Count: 3637

Tags: fem!reader; enemies to lovers; suggestive content; implied sex; cursing; sexual tension; idiots in love;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You never thought you'd meet the infamous bounty hunter Roronoa Zoro again after four years apart. Yet here you are, part of his crew, and all he wants is to get rid of you.

|Masterlist|

“No, Luffy.”

Two words. Just two words and I already want to rip his head off his shoulders. This is gonna be great!

“Why?” Luffy cocks his head to the side, his pinky reaching inside his nose in search of the annoyance there.

“Shut up, Mosshead!” Sanji growls, his face close to Zoro’s closed-off expression. “Luffy, yes. She would be the most wonderful addition to our crew.”

Aw, see, the cook’s nice!

“She’s not trustworthy.” The swordsman has both his eyes closed but you can see the way his jaw ticks as he tries to keep his emotions at bay.

“Ditto, Roronoa, yet I just helped save your ass.” You bite back. Two can play the accusation game. It’s actually been four years since the last time you saw Roronoa Zoro. He was skinnier then, less… bulk. Still the same asshole, though.

His eye snaps open and you notice yet another difference. He’s more dangerous, ruthless, and predatory. “Measure your words, Backstabber. I’m not the same man I was four years ago.”

You inch forward, squaring your shoulders and measuring up to his height, even if you can’t reach it. “It’s too bad I am not the same woman I was four years ago, either.”

Nami and Robin watch the interaction with veiled smirks. Sanji is seething and being restrained by Franky to prevent him from attacking Zoro for speaking rudely to a lady.

“Welcome her in, Luffy.” Robin says with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I’d say she fits right in, Cap.” Nami says with a chuckle.

And just like that, you’re welcomed into the most dysfunctional pirate crew you’ve ever met.

-*-

You and Zoro don’t like each other. Period. There’s no truce, there isn’t even a semblance of a fake peace. It’s an all-out conflict between the two of you and the Sunny has become an active warzone.

“I don’t want you anywhere near my space, Backstabber!”

“You don’t own the ship, Roronoa!”

Nami accepts the refreshment Sanji brings her and sighs, tilting her head up to where the two of you are bickering. You just wanted to train and shake away inertia, and the crow’s nest is where the barbells are.

But nooo, Mr. Salty claims that this is his space! As if he fucking owns the ship.

“LUFFY!” You both yell out the window trying to get your captain to resolve your issue this time.

“It’s been a week.” Robin says weakly from her perch on the lawn chair.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Nami whispers back to her.

“Guys, make it stop, they’re so loud!” Chopper whines as he cuddles in Robin’s lap.

Luffy, bless him, doesn’t even move from his spot, so you sigh, pushing your index finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose trying to contain the massive migraine threatening to settle behind your eyes.

“Look here, Roronoa, we have to make this work. Whether we like it or not, we are now Nakama and-...”

“I could never be your Nakama!” He hisses, dropping the barbell near his feet with the loudest thud imaginable. Sweat drips from his hair and runs down his temples, making the vein there glisten as it throbs menacingly. His (big, muscular, defined) chest heaves from barely contained rage and you force your eyes to settle back on his face because, somehow, the sight of his sweaty, glistening pecs turns you hot and bothered for reasons that have nothing to do with anger.

“Well boo-freaking-hoo. Learn to deal with it, will you? You’re a big boy.” You say slowly, emphasising each word with a step in his direction. You’re taken aback by your closeness when his scent envelops you and dazes you in more ways than one.

It’s familiar and comforting: steel, salt, sweat…

But it’s also intoxicating and dangerous and new…

Fuck.

-*-

It’s only been one week and Zoro is ready to throw you overboard. Too bad you don’t have a devil fruit or he could watch you sink without a hint of remorse. That being the case, it would just be funny as hell to watch you get pissed off at him while soaking wet.

Wet like you are now.

He found you in the middle of your workout in his crow’s nest using his training equipment in his space. You’d been there long enough for sweat to make your hair cling to your forehead, for your top to turn a darker shade and cling sinfully to your curves, and for your sweet scent to mingle with his sanctuary, making his head spin.

Zoro feels like growling, though he’s not sure if he’s growling for the right reasons.

And now you’re approaching him with fearless steps, your finger pointing at him accusingly, while your lusciously plump lips form words: ‘boo-freaking-hoo’. And all he can think about is how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“Get the fuck out.” He growls for real this time and you stop pacing. He knows he’s giving off a dangerous aura and he means it. Because his heart is doing some freaking weird shit he doesn’t want to dissect right now and he needs you out of his sight.

Immediately.

It’s a good thing you obey and scurry out - still pissed and calling him all sorts of names, though - because the strain in his pants was about to force him to bend you over the nearest surface and have his way with you.

And he definitely can’t do that.

-*-

Eventually, with mediation from Robin and Franky, you and Zoro settle on a schedule for using the crow’s nest to train. It’s not so hard, since Zoro spends half the morning and afternoon napping, leaving you plenty of time for your daily workout.

“Why do you and Zoro hate each other?” Chopper asks innocently during lunch, and the table falls into an awkward silence. No one tries to change the subject since everyone’s curious.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as memories from the past come rushing back. You and Zoro used to bounty hunt together. You met randomly while tracking the same wanted pirate. After beating the pirate’s crew and helping each other out, you split the bounty and became friends.

From then on, the friendship blossomed. Zoro had an easier laugh before, he wasn’t so guarded, so closed off.

Did I cause him to be like that?

You bonded. Actually, so much more than that, you were head over heels for him. The whole works: stomach aflutter with butterflies, fireworks exploding behind closed eyelids, a drum instead of a heart.

And then there was a misunderstanding. You got a tip about a small-time fry, barely 6k berries, hardly worth your time. But the asshole was harassing a town and you knew you could take him alone. Zoro was collecting a previous bounty so you didn’t even tell him where you were going.

Turns out the fry wasn’t easy or small. It was huge. It was 16k, not 6k, and he was a tough nut to crack. You could’ve used Zoro’s strength, but you managed. Scraped, bruised but prideful. When you went to collect, intending to share the bounty with him, Zoro was beyond angry. He found out where you’d gone and assumed you’d gone behind his back to collect the bounty and the fame for yourself.

Things escalated. You fell out with each other.

Over a freaking misunderstanding.

You were stubborn as fuck. And you soon found out he was equally stubborn, if not more. So here you were. Still mad at each other over something that had happened more than four years ago.

“We just don’t get along, Chopper. We used to be friends, and then… we stopped.”

Zoro’s glass nearly shatters with the force he uses to set it down on the table. “Bullshit, Backstabber.”

“Stop calling me that, asshole.”

“Guys, guys, you’re at the table…” Franky starts.

“Backstabber? Why? You went behind my back and collected a huge bounty without telling me. That sounds like backstabbing to me!”

“You didn’t even let me explain!” You rise, palms slapping against the wood, causing your water glass to turn and spill.

“What was there to explain? How you got greedy? How you abandoned me without a word? Because that shit stung more than the fucking bounty!”

You gasp and take a step back, grasping the underlying hurt in his words. Abandoned him…? Is that what he thinks happened?

“I… I never meant to abandon you…” Lowering your eyes, you sense the crew shifting uncomfortably under your words.

Zoro is silent.

Just as you raise your head to meet his eyes, a cannon blast shakes the ship, forcing the crew outside to battle an oncoming enemy.

-*-

In the heat of the battle, all animosities are forgotten. You and Zoro move as one, even after four years apart, you can still fight back to back as you used to. It’s both exhilarating and overwhelming.

Zoro still hasn’t calmed the frenzied rhythm of his heart. You had claimed you never meant to abandon him. Were you speaking the truth? Because, as far as he knew, you had chosen to leave him behind, collect the big bounty and disappear from his life without ever looking back.

That had been the biggest disappointment he'd faced in a long while. After four years, he thought you were part of his past. No longer a constant presence in his mind, or worse, in his dreams.

You were gone, and good riddance.

What were the chances of him meeting you again in the Grand Line, anyway?

The Marines attacking the Straw Hats are predictably weak, but there are many of them and Zoro is distracted by the earlier conversation. Apparently, so are you, because there’s no way in hell four-years-ago-you would’ve let that attack slip through your defences, let alone now-you.

Zoro grunts and slices through the three Marines in front of him to reach the bastard pinning you against the Sunny’s wall. His sword blade pressed to your throat, your arm laying limp and bloodied, rendered useless for the rest of the fight.

“I’m gonna count to three and before I fucking reach two, you’d better have let go of her and be out of my fucking sight, or you’ll lose your limbs one by one to my blades. Starting with that hand.” He growls as he notices the Marine pressing his hand against your chest to keep you pinned to the wall.

-*-

Fuck, that was hot.

How can your heart be racing this fast when you’re facing possible death at the hands of a freaking weak Marine? You have no idea how you got into this position. You know how to fight better than any of these army fools!

You were distracted, dumbass.

Yeah, you were distracted. You were thinking about the possibilities and the what-ifs of four years ago, if only you had spoken to Zoro before he thought you abandoned him. And all that thinking got you pinned to the wall with an injured arm and a blade to your throat.

“One…” Zoro starts counting and you hold your breath. You’ve seen him fight, the Marine better run. “Two…”

His voice is eerily calm, but the intensity of his words leaves no room for argument. He’s dangerous, he’s lethal, and he’s not playing games.

Even though the Marine drops you unceremoniously and starts to run, you know he isn't getting far. The manic grin on Zoro’s face just before he slashes the Marine makes the critters in your belly flutter and dance all at once.

Fuck.

Zoro did start with his hand.

-*-

“She’s fine!” Chopper exclaims as he steps out of the infirmary with a wide smile, his hoof clasping your uninjured hand as you join your Nakama by the galley. The crew receives you with cheers and you feel a bit ashamed. You wanted to prove your worth but the battle didn’t go the way you meant it to. Still, none of them make you feel unworthy.

Robin fusses over you, Luffy tries to hug you before Nami stops him with a punch, Usopp is already retelling the tale of the thousand Marines who attacked you and Sanji glides to your side with a refreshment and amiable words, worried, anxious and happy you’re safe.

And that’s where Zoro draws the line. “Can we talk?” His gruff voice rolls over you like a caress, and you bite the inside of your cheek trying to snap out of it.

“Yeah.” You follow him to the crow’s nest unsure of what he wants to say. The entire walk is wrapped in piercing silence, tension hanging like a thick fog. Once you arrive, you’re too wound up to sit, so you start pacing.

“Explain.” He says, apparently too wound up to sit as well.

The fuck?

“Explain what?”

“What you meant at lunch.”

You try to cross your arms over your chest, but the injured limb is still out of action so, instead, you place your good hand on your hip and stamp your foot. “Listen, honey,” you mock, “you better start using your big boy words because I’m not going to play riddles with you and-...”

Your sentence is cut short when he takes two strides forward, forcing you to step back until you collide with the training bars. Zoro’s face is inches from yours and the ticking in his jaw is back.

His eye pins yours, and your legs wobble under the intensity of his stare. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you,” he drawls, slamming his hand against the bars beside your face. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The world spins as you suck in a breath, trying to understand his words. What does he mean?

“I can’t stop thinking about your lips…” His thumb presses against your lower lip, tracing it roughly. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing your neck.” His lips brush against the pulse on your neck, teeth nibbling and pinching. “I can’t stop thinking about you… squirming under me!”

Zoro’s hand gropes the flesh of your hip, his fingers sinking in, pulling a soft moan from your lips. “Tell me to stop.” He whispers, his tongue tracing your earlobe with sinful licks. “Fuck. Just say the words.”

Your head falls back against the bars in abandon as his hand drops from your hips, fingers inching under the waistband of your jeans.

“Don’t stop.” You sigh.

And he doesn’t.

-*-

“I didn’t abandon you.” You’re still in bliss after the moment you just shared. You had thought about this, fantasied, dreamed, imagined… every possible variation of what just happened. But it was still better. “I didn’t know the pirate had a 16k berries bounty. I thought it was 6k. I was going to take care of him, call it a day and meet you to collect the bounty.”

Zoro’s still, his chest still heaving slightly, sweat clinging sinfully to where your mouth had been moments ago.

“But then you left, thinking I betrayed you, without giving me a chance to explain before disappearing from my life.” Your legs are still shaking and aching. Zoro was brutal and intense. And you loved every second of it.

“Well that makes sense…” He says as his expression softens.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your disbelief makes you face him with a scowl and bared teeth.

“Look at how much fun we could’ve been having for four years instead of hating each other. My bad, I guess!” His cheeky grin only makes you seethe more and you scramble to your feet to collect your clothes and leave him there.

“Unbelievable! You’re an ass, Zoro.” You state as you open the hatch to leave him and his smugness behind.

“Meet me later?”

The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and then to your ears as you face him. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. You show him the middle finger before closing the hatch. “After dinner in this spot. Be naked and don’t be late. Asshole.”

Roronoa Zoro used to be a friend, then an enemy, then a Nakama… now you can’t deny all the fluttering in your belly when he looks at you. But the fluttering’s fine. You can live with that, it’s actually exhilarating.

It’s the frenzied beating of your heart that you have a problem with. That, and the clenching in your chest when you and Zoro gaze at each other.

That’s what scares you.

-*-

Dinner that evening is the tensest meal you’ve had on the Sunny since joining the crew. On the outside everything looks normal. Luffy is eating from everybody’s plate, Sanji is fawning over Nami, Robin and you, and Usopp is entertaining the table with how he single-handedly defeated one hundred marines in the fight you had earlier.

But every time you glance at Zoro, he’s pinning you under his gaze, an infuriating smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he downs an entire bottle of sake. You try your damn hardest to focus on the food in front of you instead of letting your mind revisit the most mind-shattering and intense moment of your life.

Nami asks if you’re alright and you weakly respond with a yes, saying that you’re just tired from the fight, but you don’t miss her curious expression when she catches the way Zoro is staring at you. Fuck. If he doesn’t stop doing that, he might as well wear a sign on his forehead saying you just had sex.

Bastard.

Zoro leaves first and after helping Sanji clear the plates - even if he vehemently refuses your help - you make your way up to the crow’s nest. You told Zoro to be waiting naked, but you’re actually having second thoughts. Has he forgiven you for what happened four years ago? Have you forgiven him for not even wanting to hear your explanations?

You’re not even sure if you’re friends, acquaintances, enemies or something else entirely. And that needs to be settled.

Taking a deep steadying breath before opening the hatch, you brace yourself for whatever is coming, but you can’t help a small squeak from escaping your lips as you see Zoro waiting for you, bare-chested, cross-legged and leaning up against the bars.

“You’re late, Backstabber.”

“Your pants are still on, Mr. Salty.”

He chuckles and the sound makes your heart skip a beat weirdly. Should you talk to Chopper about this? It seems like something you should worry about.

Zoro moves away from the bars and takes a step your way, that smug grin tilting his lips in an endearing way. “You want them off that bad?”

You take another step back, though your legs feel like jelly. “Smug asshole.”

He doesn’t answer you with a cheeky reply and his lips turn into a thin line again. That same closed-off expression he had when you first joined and now it seems like the step back you took was a step back in… whatever this is.

“Look…” He says your name while scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. About the way things ended between us all that time ago. It seems silly to still be upset about it, especially now that you’ve explained yourself.”

You nod, agreeing and there’s a lightness to your chest that wasn’t there before. A sort of closure to that chapter of your lives, something you’ve carried with you even if you were unaware of it.

“Also,” he continues as he takes another step forward. This time you don’t back away. “About what I said the other day - about us not being Nakama - I didn’t mean it that way.” He sighs and reaches for your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I was just angry.”

“Are you still angry?” You ask, your breath catching slightly in your throat.

Zoro’s finger brushes the inside of your wrist, absentmindedly. “I don’t even know.” He lets out a sigh that resembles a grunt and tugs at your wrist, pulling you to him. “But I know I can’t go another day without you, let alone four years.”

Your heart skips another beat as his words sink in, and this time it continues to beat in this weird staccato rhythm. “Then don’t…” You finally murmur, pressing yourself against him, feeling the heat of his skin against your fingers.

He grins again, that shit-eating grin he used to give you back when things were still fine. “Good.” He drawls out as he pinches your chin and crashes his lips against yours in a desperate claim. His touch electrifies you and tingles in places it shouldn’t, lighting you up from within and making you feel more alive than ever.

-*-

Time passes and something shifts. The crew notices it since you bicker less. You’re pretty sure Nami and Robin know what is going on between the both of you, though they don’t say anything. But it should be a dead giveaway since you’re ‘training’ together now instead of sticking to your separate training schedule.

You still argue on a daily basis, though now there’s an underlying understanding that wasn’t there before. You’re not arguing out of past sorrows, hurt, or unresolved conflict. You’re arguing because it’s just your nature. And you notice that there’s something deeper in your connection. Those skipped beats of your heart, that fluttering in your belly… Those are all part of something far more intense that you don’t want to name yet. But you realise that there’s no rush in naming whatever you have. You have time.

Because Zoro might still call you ‘Backstabber’ with an annoyingly smug smirk, and you might call him ‘Mr. Salty’ with equal fervour now and again, but at the end of the day, you’re both exactly where you want to be: right beside each other.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #reader insert #reader x zoro #you x zoro #zoro x you #birthday event

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macbethsymphony · 10 months ago

Text

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 19

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 4.8k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 19: A Different Approach

The next morning was not kind to you. As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows of the crow's nest, you stirred from your restless sleep, feeling the weight of a pounding headache and the persistent haze of alcohol-induced drowsiness.

You groaned in protest at the sun, trying to block out the light in your eyes with the improvised pillow you’d made with training mats. The events of the previous night slowly flooded back into your consciousness, a wave of fragmented memories crashing against the shores of your mind. Amidst the fog, the taste of the swordsman's lips lingered on your own, salt and whiskey, a sweet reminder of the intimacy shared under the moonlight. Your cheeks heated intensely.

Oh gods, you needed to stop drinking so much.

With a feeble attempt to ease the throbbing in your skull, you pushed yourself in a sitting position, the movement sending a surge of dizziness washing over you. It took a moment for your surroundings to come back into focus, the familiar sight of the makeshift gym greeting you in quiet serenity.

You considered getting up for a split second but decided against so, instead leaning back on the wall with a heavy sigh. You closed your eyes, the tips of your fingers going to your outer thigh, lazily recreating the exploration of the swordsman’s hands in a daze. Your heart skipped a beat, a shiver passed your shoulders, you let the rear of your head painfully hit the wood behind you.

Fuck.

You were down bad.

The trapdoor grated open. You didn’t move. You heard the familiar pace of Zoro’s steps against the floor. From what you could make, he stopped not too far from you.

An amused snort escaped him.

Your eyes creaked open slightly, looking up at him. Goodness, he was stunning. The morning’s gentle rays caressed his features, casting them in a soft, ethereal glow. The rare curve of his lips into a smile was mesmerizing, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Even the metal of his earrings appeared to dance in the warmth of the light, their delicate glint adding to his undeniable allure.

“Still alive?” he asked, crouching down so your eyes were at a similar level.

“I think I might be dying, actually,” you answered, voice rough and catching against the dryness of your throat.

He chuckled at your overdramatic statement. “You do look like shit,” he commented looking you over none too subtly.

You scoffed in mock indignation. “I don’t want to hear that from someone who doesn’t even shower once a week," you retorted gesturing to him with a lazy movement of your head.

He shrugged nonchalantly, your jab not bothering him in the slightest.

You met his gaze in a quiet exchange, searching for any hint of anger or regret. Yet, all you found was his usual stoic demeanor reflected back at you, his expression betraying nothing. Your eyes traveled against his face, settling on his lips. Memories flooded your mind, his grasp in your hair, his smirk against your lips as you complied with his every demand. And then, as if sensing your thoughts, a knowing grin spread across his features, his eye twinkling with what you could only decipher as satisfaction.

Embarrassment overcame you at the realization that he could read you like an open book. You quickly averted your gaze, hoping to hide the crimson on your cheeks that threatened to betray your inner turmoil.

“Anyway,” you squeaked. “You got any water?”

The swordsman’s grin widened at your deflection, but he played along nonetheless. He extracted a flask from under his overcoat. You snagged it with unsteady hands, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. Almost immediately, you halted on the contents, the harsh burn of alcohol catching you off guard.

"Sake?!" you exclaimed incredulously, eyes meeting his again in shock, wincing as you tried not to choke. "The sun's barely up.”

Zoro chuckled at your reaction, his smile unwavering as he watched your struggle. "Morning’s as good a time as any for a drink," he remarked casually, his tone betraying no hint of remorse.

“Fuck swordsman, you’ve got a problem,” You managed to croak in-between soft coughs, handing him back the flask none too gently.

His fingers lingered against yours as he took it back, a subtle touch that sent heat to your core. His gaze held yours for a moment longer, a silent exchange passing between you before he stood up.

"Zoro," you said, his name feeling unfamiliar and weighty on your lips.

He glanced down at you, a hint of curiosity glinting in his eye. "What is it?" he asked after your silence prolonged.

You hesitated, grappling for the right words amidst the tumult within yourself. "About last night..." you began, trailing off as you struggled to articulate your thoughts.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "What about last night?" he inquired, his features dripping with self-satisfaction.

Frustration simmered within you, the prickling sensation of annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. "You know what I mean, swordsman," you replied with exasperation.

He tilted his head slightly, a playful glint dancing in his eye. "Do I?" he teased.

A impatient sigh escaped you, the tension mounting with each passing moment. Rising to meet his stance, you looked at him with defiance. "Cut the crap, you know exactly what I'm talking about," you insisted, your tone firm.

He laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet space between you. In the face of his entertainment, you hesitated, uncertainty creeping into your expression as his chuckles subsided.

Your gaze fell to the floor. Without the brazenness that came with intoxication, embarrassment flooded your senses. "You know what?" you said in a small, panicked squeak. "Forget it."

He sighed.

“Oi,” he called out to you.

When you didn’t move your head, he crouched back down, looking up to meet your eyes. As his gaze locked with yours, the weight of his stare made your heart flutter, your knees weaken. Your name crossed his lips in a soft whisper, the sound foreign and demanding of attention. "I don't do things I'll regret," he stated simply before rising to his feet and turning to the trapdoor.

You stood in disbelief for a moment, processing his words. All of a sudden, you scrambled, picking up the cursed dagger from the floor in a hurry as you snapped back to reality.

“Hey,” you shouted after him. “Wait, where are you going?” You asked as you followed him down the ladder. “You can’t just say that and leave.”

“Training,” He answered simply from below, entirely ignoring the latter part of your comment.

As your feet hit the wooden deck, you watched him walk away in stunned wordlessness. The cool morning air did little to alleviate the heat coloring your cheeks. Gazing out to the horizon, you squinted against the glare of the rising sun. The golden sliver took you by surprise. It was far earlier than you’d expected. The ship lay silent and deserted, a stark contrast to the bustling activity it would soon host. Most of the crew, you assumed, still slumbered in the embrace of their beds.

A parched sensation clawed at your throat, urging you in search of relief. Water. You needed water urgently. With a resolute stride, you crossed the length of the Sunny, headed for the galley, the determination evident in each purposeful step.

You hadn't anticipated anyone else being awake at this early hour, perhaps aside from Sanji. However, you were taken aback to find both Nami and Robin already up and about. The two women were seated at the table, engrossed in a hushed exchange. Nami meticulously pored over intricate navigation charts, while Robin delved into the pages of a book.

A delightful aroma wafted through the air, emanating from the oven where something delicious was clearly baking. Its sweet scent tantalized your senses, yet the chef was nowhere in sight.

Nami quirked an eyebrow in amusement as she watched you make a beeline for the sink, the sound of running water punctuating the quiet atmosphere. "Good morning to you too," she teased, her tone laced with playful sarcasm.

You offered a sheepish smile in response, your lips curling upwards despite the persistent ache in your head. "Morning," you managed to murmur, your voice rough as you filled a glass with cool water.

Meanwhile, Robin's words cut through the tranquility of the moment, catching you off guard as you took a gulp from the glass. "You didn’t sleep in our room yesterday," she observed casually, her gaze still fixed on the book she held in her hands.

The unexpected remark hit you like a sudden gust of wind, causing you to choke on your drink. Water menaced painfully to flood your lungs, and the implications in the tone of the archeologist's statement sent a jolt of embarrassment coursing through you, your mind scrambling to come up with a suitable response.

Struggling to regain your composure, you hastily wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, attempting to conceal the nervousness that threatened to sell you out. "I, uh, ended up crashing in the crow's nest last night," you stammered, your voice quivering slightly as you sought to sound nonchalant.

Nami's eyebrows shot up even higher than before, her expression betraying the flow of her thoughts. "In the crow's nest, huh?" she echoed, a mischievous twinkle dancing in her eyes. "Sounds cozy."

Heat flooded your cheeks as you fumbled for a response, acutely aware of the implications in her tone. Your brain couldn’t help but bring up the sensation of his nails digging into soft flesh, of his grip tightening in your hair. A shiver went down your spine. “Just passed out there,” you answered, your voice squeaky.

A hand popped out of the table in front of the navigator. Nami tsked in annoyance, digging out Berry from her back pocket and placing a handful of notes in the waiting palm.

“Thank you,” Robin said with satisfaction, the fingers counting casually the amount while her eyes were still glued to her book. She suddenly smiled, folding the stack of notes and pocketing them. “In any case, we’re glad to see you’re alright. For a moment last night, we were worried you’d taken an unexpected dip overboard.”

You watched the exchange in disbelief, blood draining from your face. “What was that?” You couldn’t help but ask, ignoring the archeologist’s comment entirely. “What did you guys bet on?”

Nami’s smirk widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she mused with glee. “Don’t worry, it was just a friendly wager.”

"It's not what you think," you protested, your words tumbling out in a hurried jumble. "We were just... talking."

"We?" Nami questioned with a knowing arch of her eyebrow.

Robin's gaze met yours, closing her book with a soft thud. "Talking... Is that what kids are calling it these days?" she teased, a playful glint dancing in her eyes.

As if on cue, Sanji kicked the door open, Zoro not too far behind, their arrival far from subtle. Crates in hand, they burst in with the energy of a brewing storm.

"Hurry up," Sanji barked at the swordsman, impatience evident in his tone. "These are just the start."

Zoro grunted in annoyance, dropping the crates onto the floor without much care. "Why don’t you do your own heavy lifting, you shitty cook," he shot back, his voice tinged with irritation, following him nonetheless.

Sanji's eyebrow twitched, his grip on his cigarette tightening as he took a long drag. "What did you say, moss head?"

Your cheeks flushed under the assessing gazes of Nami and Robin, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

Zoro abruptly halted in his tracks, the cook forgotten as he looked at you. His eye narrowed as he surveyed the scene before him. "What's going on?" he demanded, his steely gaze darting between you and the two women.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, looking down and getting lost in the suddenly interesting glass in your hands.

Nami’s smirk turned into a grin, her eyes sparkling with something that was almost evil as she leaned back into her chair. “Oh, we were just discussing last night’s sleeping arrangements,” she announced, her tone teasing.

"You see, our dear blacksmith never made it back to our room. Nami and I were quite worried," Robin added, her gaze briefly flickering towards you before settling on the swordsman with a soft smile. "You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Zoro?"

Zoro's expression remained unreadable as he turned his attention to you, his stare piercing and calculating. He leaned against the doorframe, his lip twitched for a fraction of a second, reveling in the chaos in your eyes. "Whatever the witch said," he replied mysteriously, lazily gesturing towards you with a tilt of his head.

You scowled at the nickname, a flicker of irritation crossing your features.

Nami scoffed, her annoyance evidently feigned. "Well, isn’t that convenient?"

You cleared your throat, your hand absentmindedly going to the cursed knife at your waist. “Yes, incredibly convenient.” You shot Zoro a frustrated glare. “In any case, I’ve got work to do.” You stated resolutely, making your way back towards the door.

Robin called your name, stopping you in your tracks. “You left the research out on the table outside last night. I put it in your forge for you, if you ever wondered where it went.”

You flashed her a grateful smile and a small thank you before strolling past the swordsman. He didn’t move out of the way, forcing you to brush against him. The warmth of his body seeped through the fabric of your clothes, sending a subtle jolt of electricity through you. Zoro's gaze flickered with an unreadable intensity, a hint of amusement at your almost unobservable shiver as he tracked your movements.

Suppressing the unexpected flutter in your chest, you flipped him off before continuing on your way.

He snorted at your defiance, his eye shamelessly tracing the contours of your figure, halting at the hem of your skirt. His fingers twitched imperceptibly.

Sanji kicked Zoro in the shin, taking back his attention.

"What'd you do that for?" Zoro screeched.

"(Y/n)'s a lady you muscle-headed moron," the cook shouted as he made his way out of the galley with the swordsman in tow.

The heat of your forge was comforting, the familiar act of wrapping your hair in linen cloth allowing you to clear your mind.

You sat down as you waited for the fires to attain the necessary temperature for the task you wanted to attempt. Your fingers traced the uneven edge of the cursed dagger, letting your haki flow to touch it, understand how it was created.

The excruciating pain enveloped your senses like a suffocating shroud. Grappling with the relentless surge of agony coursing through your veins, you gritted your teeth and summoned every ounce of your willpower, determined not to back away. Each pulsating wave of sensation threatened to overwhelm you, but you stood firm, unyielding in your resolve.

As you delved deeper into the essence of the cursed steel, you probed the twisted techniques that had been utilized to imbue it with haki, tracing the dark tendrils of its creation back to their source. The images that flickered behind your closed eyes were a haunting reminder of the suffering endured, the echoes of distress etched into the very fabric of the blade's existence as life force was taken forcefully.

Hazy visions of torment danced before you, each blurry snapshot a testament to the cruelty that had been employed in making the dagger. You felt the agony, heard the anguish, the cries of souls torn from their mortal shells. It was as if the blade itself bore witness to the violent depths of human depravity, a silent beholder to the atrocities committed in the name of science.

Never before had you encountered such haki-infused steel, a material that carried the imprint of darkness in its very essence. It was a rare sight, one that sent an unwelcome surge of dread in your mind, for you recognized its origins all too well. Only in the creations forged by your own hands had you glimpsed such power and pain. You couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of responsibility for its existence.

The task ahead of you was daunting, for you knew all too well the challenges that lay in dismantling a black blade. More often than not, it was an impossible feat, the sentience that came with stolen life force resisting all attempts to break its hold. Hells, you had tried to destroy Yokubari more times than you could count. But as you gazed down at the steel along the tips of your fingers, you harbored a steadfast determination—a refusal to allow such a perversion to persist in this world.

You let your haki recede, the fires crackling and hissing as they cast flickering shadows across the walls. The beads of sweat that were starting to dot your brow gave you the indication that the temperature you needed was almost there.

As you approached the roaring furnace, the heat radiating from the inferno grazed at your skin, searing and intense, but you paid it no mind, your focus consumed by the task at hand. Your eyes lost themselves in the flames. You deposited the dagger on the bed of coal daring the fire to devour it. The flames eagerly licked at the black surface as if hungry for the power that pulsed within. The steel hissed and sputtered, the sound like a chorus of angry spirits protesting their fate, but still, you pressed on, pumping the bellows with practiced ease.

As the dagger sank deeper into the molten heart of the forge, the fires roared to life with renewed intensity, casting dancing sharpening shadows. The air grew thick with the scent of burning metal. You reached in with your haki, prying at the soul within in hope to release it.

It fought with the vigor of a dying animal. You tried kindness, tried forcefulness, nothing worked. The steel stood still, edge looking back at you in defiance. You took it out of the orange coals, tossing it on your anvil in anger.

You swore in fury, gritting your teeth as you sat back in your chair, eyeing the insolent blade from afar. Frustration coursed through your veins at your inadequacy, at your weakness. The flames continued to rage around you only adding to the exertion you felt.

You spotted green hair in the periphery of your vision. You groaned, in no mood to entertain anyone’s antics.

Zoro's figure loomed in the doorway of your forge for what felt like an eternity. His presence cast a long shadow across the floor as he leaned casually against the frame. His gaze was inscrutable as he watched you, the faintest hint of curiosity gleaming in his eye.

"What's got you all worked up?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

You shot him a glare, your frustration overflowing. "This damn dagger," you muttered, gesturing towards the cursed blade with a displeased flick of your wrist. "It won't yield. I've tried everything, but it's like it's... alive."

Zoro's expression remained impassive as he stepped further into the forge, his eye narrowing slightly as he studied the dagger. "Alive, huh?" he echoed, his tone thoughtful.

You nodded, tossing your head back and closing your lids. You heard the faint rustle of fabric as he moved. “Don’t touch it,” you warned. “I just took it out of the fires.”

His gaze flickered towards you, his fingers stopping mid motion at your warning. He took a few steps back from the uncomfortable heat of the fires, twirling Uragiri in his hand mindlessly as he deliberated over something. With a small smile he threw the sword to you.

"Catch," he said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Your eyes snapped open at his words, you struggled to react in time, momentarily caught off guard by his unexpected action, but managed to snatch the blade in the air just before it could slip out of your reach, securing it firmly in your grasp.

All thoughts of the dagger vacated your mind. Your brow furrowed in disbelief as you unsheathed the sword and inspected the steel. "Have you already mastered it?" you inquired incredulously, taken aback by the possibility that he could have learned it so swiftly.

"No," he replied bluntly, his tone leaving no room for ambiguity.

Your frown deepened in confusion. "Then why?" you pressed, genuinely puzzled by his intentions.

"You're teaching me," he stated matter-of-factly, his words hanging in the air with a weight that belied their simplicity.

You blinked. “I’m teaching you?” you repeated, momentarily stunned by his response. Teaching him? The notion seemed absurd, considering the formidability of his skills as a swordsman. “You mean like what I did in the research facility?” you asked.

His confirming grunt sent a shiver down your spine.

You ignored the sensation, looking at the sword as you pondered the idea over. "No," you decided firmly, refusing to entertain it any longer than necessary.

"Huh?" Zoro's brows furrowed in confusion, his tone laced with a hint of frustration. "Why not?" he pressed, his gaze searching yours for an explanation.

You squinted, his attitude rubbing on you. "I’m not teaching you how to reverberate haki. It's too dangerous," you sneered down at him from your low vantage point, white scabbard clutched tightly in your hands. "We're on a ship," you added, as though the mere mention of your surroundings underscored the inherent risk of what he was proposing. “With people.”

He scoffed, making his way to you. “It’ll be fine,” he assured you, moving towards your seated form, his boots stopping close to yours.

You looked up at him, resolute stare meeting his, your back digging firmly in the back of your chair. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his cocky reassurance, his arrogance only serving to fuel your irritation. "Fine?" you echoed incredulously, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, well, if you say it'll be fine, then I guess we have nothing to worry about."

Zoro's lips quirked into a smug smirk at your biting retort, his gaze challenging you to match his confidence. "Exactly," he replied, his voice low and gruff as he leaned in closer. His fingers grazed the wooden top of the workbench behind you, the warmth of his breath touched your heated cheek.

You fought to suppress the flutter in your chest at his proximity, unwilling to let him see how easily he could unsettle you. "Well, forgive me if I don't share your blind optimism," you shot back, your words laced with thinly veiled annoyance.

He chuckled softly at your barbed response, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Then, are you underestimating me, witch?” he teased, his tone playful as he reached out to lightly brush his fingers against the ashes on your cheek.

For a sliver of a moment, you almost melted into his touch but the surge of anger that rose inside you at his audacity took over. "Don't do that," you snapped, swatting his hand away with more force than strictly necessary.

The swordsman’s smirk widened at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender.

You gritted your teeth in frustration, struggling to maintain your composure. "I'm serious," you warned, your voice edged with firmness. "This is a bad idea, and I won't be held responsible if something goes wrong."

His gaze locked with yours. His fingers brushed yours along the lacquered wood of the scabbard.

Your resolve wavered. “Fine,” you hissed. “Just let me change first.”

You should have fucking stuck to your instincts. You swore under your breath as you pried Uragiri out of the moron’s hands.

“Kind and reassuring, you idiot,” you yelled at the man before you. “Not fucking brute force.”

Zoro's scowl deepened, his brows furrowing in irritation at your outburst. "What's your problem? I almost had it,” he shouted, his voice tinged with annoyance.

"My problem?" you shot back incredulously, frustration welling up to the surface. "You're reckless, impulsive, and completely oblivious to the consequences of your actions. You can’t control your haki properly and you weren’t even close to getting it."

Zoro bristled at your words, his jaw clenched with vexation. "You're a shit teacher," he retorted defensively. "If you'd stop yelling at me for two seconds, maybe I could actually make some progress."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Progress?" you echoed, cynicism coloring your tone. "You call that progress? Nearly slicing the ship in two because you're too stubborn to listen to reason?"

Zoro's expression hardened slightly at the mention of his previous blunder, a flicker of displeasure crossing his features. "I can handle it," he insisted obstinately, though the strain in his voice betrayed a crack in his bravado.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "That's not the point," you replied wearily, your anger giving way to exhaustion. "The point is that you need to learn control. You can't just charge into every situation without thinking things through."

“Are you giving me a lecture on impulsivity?” He snorted. “That’s rich.”

You winced at the truth of his words. “Apparently I fucking have to” you gritted through clenched teeth.

“Fine,” he relented stiffly. “Show me again.”

You took in a deep breath trying to rein in your own irritation. This was going nowhere. “Let’s try something different,” you sighed. “Since my way is clearly not working, show me how your haki works.”

Zoro’s scowl softened as he considered your suggestion. “My haki?” He mused. “I can do that,” he said smugly.

You set Uragiri to the side, taking a seat on the wood of the deck. You watched as he did the same not too far from you. Watched as he casually reached within, looking for the well of his willpower.

With practiced ease, haki flowed along his skin, coating the tips of his fingers, his hand, his arm.

Your breath caught as the air buzzed with electricity. It was stunning, breathtaking. The mastery, the dominance. It was entirely different than yours. You didn’t understand how he did it.

Your fingers twitched, tentatively moving to touch his.

The raw power was intoxicating, sharp and ready to kill.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce through your very soul. You couldn't decipher the thoughts swirling behind that unwavering stare, but the mischievous glint that danced in his eye hinted at a deeper comprehension than he let on. With a subtle smirk, he delved further into his reserves, channeling his haki with a newfound fervor that left you in awe.

"Can't control my haki?" he teased, referring to your earlier critique.

"You're still stuck on that? Stop showing off," you chided, your tongue clicking in disapproval. "Uragiri needs kindness and reassurance, not this shit."

"Then show me kind and reassuring," he challenged, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes with steely determination.

"I've never quite grasped armament haki, so I’m not sure how one would go about it with that technique," you admitted with a hint of vulnerability. "My willpower isn't rooted in a desire to fight, but to create," you explained, reaching instinctively into the depths of yourself. “You can’t achieve what I did in the research lab by simply coating a sword. You need to understand it, find the haki woven in the layers steel.”

Your hand went to Uragiri at your side, bringing it in between you and the swordsman. “It’s important to observe how a blade was made, when you’re going at it the way I am,” you continued calmly, extending your haki along the swirls of the steel. “Observe which areas of the steel bends, which holds firm. How strong the core stands. It’s all part of a sword’s soul.”

His expression softened, mirroring your sincerity as he watched the black spirals emanate from your palm, the movements of your fingers as they grazed the sharpness of the edge with genuine curiosity. Tentatively, he allowed his haki to recede, attempting to replicate your technique with careful precision.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed his earnest efforts, the intensity of his focus drawing you in. In that moment, he seemed almost youthful, his features tempered by the sheer concentration etched upon his face.

“You don’t have to go about it in the same way I do,” you said after watching him struggle for a while. “I’m certain you can achieve a similar effect with your own technique. There’s always more than one solution to every challenge.”

You suddenly shot up to your feet, steps urgently taking you back towards your forge. You had an idea. A different way you could approach the dagger. “Keep going at it, you’ll figure it out.” You shouted back at him.

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Masterlist

#the swordsman and the blacksmith #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #charlou writes

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sadsimp · 11 months ago

Note

Hey! Hope you're having an awesome day/night!

I wanted to ask, that is, if your ask box is open, and if you wish to; could you list your headcanons/ideas of what Geo would be like as a romantic partner? Like love languages, how you get with him, etc. (or more if you want idc I just want Geo content...and how Sol and Crowe would deal with it teehee).

Thanks in advance Anon! Wishing you good health and a marvellous week! :]

Geo hcs~!

Not edited/proofread.

No warnings?? Just pure fluff, and sorry I didn’t include smut :)

Thank you so much for the request! :D And thank you 🥺 have a good week as well~!

I’m still on the fence if requests are closed or not, since I get writers block easily, but I’ll try my best if you do request :)

With that, enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like it would take a while before Geo even acknowledges that he might like you.

He’d be denying that you’re even friends for the longest time and then it just hits up like a bus. If he’s doing something like his archery class when it hits him, he just pauses and stares off into the distance. His eyes widen ever so slight, you wouldn’t really notice unless you were right up in his face.

I’m sorry you have to confess 😭 His reaction depends on how you confess/ask him out.

If you are in a public space- He’s eyes would go wide most likely and glance around at everyone anxiously. If he sees people noticing you two, he’ll probably reject you💀😭

If you accept and apologize, he’d find you later in the hall and ask to talk to you in private. He’d explain why he rejected you, which he was overwhelmed and would’ve much rather preferred a clear and empty space.

He’d say you can restart with his face not as harsh looking. He’s essentially saying to ask again in a much better space.

Of course, you ask again and then he actually gives the answer he would’ve liked to say before.

If you do it in a quieter, more private setting- He’s slightly suspicious on why you’re asking to talk to him in private.

He’s very pleased that you’ve asked him without the staring eyes of others once he hears your confession.

He just..stares at you for a few moments before nodding slowly.

Either way, congratulations! 🎉🎊🍾 You’ve got him!!

The relationship will go slow for sure. He’s very cautious when showing his affections and doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries you may have.

Which is why he’ll want to put it all on the table: both of your guy’s boundaries, wants, etc.

He’d lock pinkies with you when you walk 🥺

I don’t think he’s much for cuddling. At first ;)

If he’s not feeling up for full on cuddles, he’ll just hold your hand or lay an arm over you while still keeping some space.

I feel like once he’s in the mood to cuddle, he’s on top of you with a death grip. He will definitely not let you go.

He’s big on Acts of Service. If he sees your apartment slightly messy, like unclean dishes, he’ll do them for you.

He probably won’t do much else like organizing because he understands everyone has a system and doesn’t want you to get upset. So dishes, dusting, and sweeping/vacuuming/mopping is what he’ll do :)

I feel like he would love to do dishes with you too. Put on some music in the background and have deep conversations and he’s night is great.

How will Crowe react???

He’s shocked for one.

Like?? When did this happen? How? Why?

He’s not going to be a jerk about, and he’s happy for you. He can see that Geo is treating you well and you seem so happy, how could he not be happy for you?

He’s slightly jealous though, but he gets over it :)

How will Sol react???

He’s so mad. He’s immediately plotting Geo’s death I’m sorry 😭

He can see how happy you are, but he only wants him to make you happy. No one else.

If you two are doing your project and Geo comes to pick you up? Sol glares at him and doesn’t even attempt to be polite. He definitely digs his nails into his hand, and the same thing happens just like in Episode Two

His eyes soften when you tell him goodbye, but the second you interlock yours and Geo’s pinkies, he’s glaring at him and sticks his tongue out.

I suggest making sure he isn’t following you and lock your doors and windows :)

~~~~~~~

I’m sorry this took so long 😭 I’m also sorry this is all I got :,)

#the kid at the back #tkatb vn #subaru geo oogami #sol brugmansia #the kid at the back vn #geo x reader

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crazyfanoffandom · 5 months ago

Text

How things developed between Freya and Lucanis…

This is just the storyline I’ve drafted briefly in my head. Combining that slow but also adding in stuff…mostly off screen content.

For many Rooks, they saw Lucanis and fell for him right away. Not Freya (I really need a new name). Her own journey with the crows and training tainted her view a little. She is aware of the stakes of a job. She is aware that she could die if she doesn’t perform as they need her to. And the killing the elvhen dweebs and stopping Solas’ circus is the same. It’s an ever present mindset that doesn’t go away. Getting Lucanis out of prison was just part of the job. Just another heist. Though this entire quest line has been different than norm. She goes after people to destroy them. But she’s being used to stop destruction.

Some jobs require her to flirt her way to the kill. So she knows how. Rarely has she flirted because she wanted to. It was something out of her control. She did what she has to do to get the job done. Flirting with Lucanis was helping her find a little independence and differentiating thinking from the crow ways. It surprises her evermore when he responded to it. But she figured he saw things the same as she did. Goodness, it didn’t even bother her when he flirted with Neve in front of her. They were all colleagues getting along. None of their flirting (hers towards Lucanis included) meant a lot.

But during a night discussion and heart to heart with him, she realized that it wasn’t harmless anymore. At least for her. She liked him (though she never downright thought “oh wow I like him.”). And as time went on, those feelings flourished and blossomed. And then he almost kissed her. She didn’t second guess why he stopped. She was aware of his situation. She could only guess how that impacted that moment, but she concluded it the source. A part of her thought that an accident. But it seemed unlikely because who accidentally leans in intending to do that?

What truly got her was the flirting. His flirting towards Neve didn’t relent. She pretended not to notice. She continued teasing them as she had before. But her own heart shattered. And confusion rippled. But this is when she drew the conclusion that, despite logic, maybe these feelings weren’t replicated. And this is when she’s thankful for poker face training when she was training with the crows!

She couldn’t remember the kind of coffee he liked, so she went to ask him which beans to buy. And when he tried to tag on to their conversation, “If I could…I want…” She drew a greater confusion. Even more when she heard from a distance a conversation between Neve and Lucanis at the lighthouse. She believed it about that moment where he nearly kissed her. But after that, neither flirted. Boundaries had been drawn out of earshot. Neve would tell her at a later date about this. And when all this is over and she reflects, Freya would become grateful her friend was observant and able to take action when neither Freya or Lucanis know how to handle this.

There would be so many unknown stolen moments during this time. Neither realized what they were. They were growing closer and closer and closer. They weren’t touchy feely. There was no “touching his arm” or “lean in so close you can their breath moments” but there would be little things in the in between. Talking over coffee. Bonding over crow training memories. Making fun of Viago (he heard about one incident, and Freya made sure not to consume anything he gave her for weeks afterwards).

But the conversation eventually strayed towards that almost kiss during a venture (Lucanis initiated). And Lucanis admits he’s been thinking about it for sometime. Now he thinks he knows what he wishes to say, but at the light house. And that leads to a night long private conversation. They talk about everything and anything over coffee (well tea for Freya, much to Lucanis’ disgust). Long after others have gone to sleep, the flirty charm has been turned back on. Both admit they don’t know what this is…but it’s something they want to pursue. So they’re going to go forward and see where it takes them.

No kiss happens until after he makes her the dessert that pairs well with tea. They’re running from antaam they’d been tracking (and of whom caught on and gave chase). They don’t want to get caught. They’re hiding in a squishy place. They started flirting and sassing…and then they lean in. There’s no almost kiss this time. It’s the kiss. They linger for a few seconds and pull away. Freya is about to comment on what she thinks and suddenly, they hear one antaam alerting the others to their location and they run.

That’s how I think it may happen. But these are just thoughts.

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pinksikhewei · 19 days ago

Text

Hot Cocoa, Hummingbirds, and Something Sort of Like Healing.

Bucky quickly made himself enamored as flapping wings and the green tree leaves filled the screen. He tried to throw himself into the colorful songbirds and facts of sweet crows, tried to imagine himself flying away into a free sky with none of his heavy worries and bones as light as air. He tried not to remind himself of the lab rat he used to be, or of the torture or the abuse.

But at the end of the day, Bucky always ended up back there. He couldn’t get away from it, from himself.

Word count: ~2.1K

Content: Autistic!Bucky, protective Steve Rogers, he’s a really good friend, but I guess you could ship them in this if you want to, angst/comfort eventually, but I didn’t write the comfort only the very beginning of it 💔, I lowkey don’t even know what point in the fucking timeline I was in just imagine anything post!Civil War atp, Bucky’s special interest is birds bcs I said so

A/n: this one was lowkey difficult cos I tried not to mischaracterize Bucky while also doing that intentionally 😭 but anyways as an autistic person who oftentimes feels like their needs are annoying and embarrassing, this fic is a little bit special to me :)

Based on the last headcanon from this post

Reblogs/notes appreciated !!! Crossposted to ao3 from the same handle!

🥀

The tag on the inside of his shirt, the seams on his jeans, the slight prickle of his hair against his neck, the buzzing of every god-forsaken machine Tony had jammed into every possible nook and cranny. Bucky felt it all, heard it all. He sensed it down deep into his bones, and the years of conditioning to sense more than he was supposed to didn't help, either.

His week, overall, had been a pretty shitty one. From the rain hiding away the birds in the trees to the near-failed missions the team had gone on to the cold weather, he'd had enough.

He hated when he couldn't see the birds-- the cardinals and the Calliope Hummingbirds and the mourning doves stowed neatly into the tens of birdhouses hung outside Bucky's expansive window in his room in the Avengers' compound.

He hated when his motor skills grew poor from exhaustion and overwhelm and his clunky metal arm didn't move where it told him to move, when his voice didn't move as fast as his brain, when it impacted his performance while he was working. He hated the way getting hit during battle and losing made him feel when for seventy-some years, he would never even dream of missing a single swing.

And the cold. Oh, how he hated the cold down to his rotten, strung out core. The cold reminded him of the cryo-freeze, the isolation, the chill against his back as he sat down to have his brain wiped, the being stuck in his worst nightmare.

The autism didn't help anything, either; only made things worse. It only made his heart break when he couldn't catalogue his dear birds, since they had been one of the only things to survive the conditioning of The Winter Soldier-- his special interest. It only made his need to be perfect heightened when those motor skills declined. It only made him feel the cold as what felt like a thousand times worse. It only made him feel so much more alone. Alone no matter how much the people around him told him he wasn't.

So, since he still hadn't worked out how to handle that, he went back to what he knew best. He put up a mask; a good one. It wasn't like he could hide the slurred speech or the running into corners sometimes, but he could hide the way it bothered him when the team laughed a little too hard on the jet, the way he had forgotten to eat for two days because Steve had forgotten to remind him, how he changed his shirt four times in the morning just to find one with an okay texture. He learned to ignore the way his brain needed quiet, the way he hated the smell of Tony's new cologne. He learned to keep his mouth shut when everyone was cracking jokes he didn't quite understand.

Sometimes, it worried him ever so slightly when it got bad. He felt like maybe he was just letting himself become The Winter Soldier again; silent, uncomplaining, numb. Steve worried, too, but he knew better than to say anything. It'd been like this for a while, even before Natasha had floated around the idea that maybe Bucky was on the spectrum, before the whole team had sort of just accepted it was the truth and kept going on without making it a big deal. Before Bucky had learned to hate those parts of himself.

Once or twice a month, sometimes even three, Bucky would start to crumble. He'd been masking and masking for so long, and he would keep up doing it until he genuinely couldn't manage it anymore. Steve had grown a sort of sense about it-- recognizing when the man would start to wince at the loud noises, stare off into space, run into the edges of countertops and pretend like it never happened, pull at the collar of his shirt like it was choking him. And Steve would be right there with him, subtly. There'd been an instance where he tried to talk to Bucky, help him relax, but had instead been on the receiving end of a meltdown where Bucky had hit him and screamed that he was okay.

Bucky had never felt more horrible, even though he didn't mean to do it all.

Steve had never felt so forgiving.

So, that Steve had slowly learned to get himself where he was then, making Bucky a simple bowl of plain grits exactly how he knew the other liked them, and leaving it on the counter when he heard him start to walk down the hall from his room.

He took one look at Bucky, tugging at his shirt's collar, and frowned.

"You're gonna have a bad day today, huh?" He said softly, pouring him a small glass of water.

Bucky took a moment, and did something he didn't often do.

He nodded; very reluctantly, but he nodded nonetheless.

"I appreciate you being honest," Steve smiled. "And I'm not mad, you're not annoying, and no you are not horrible or weird or a burden."

Bucky chuckled ever so slightly and took a bite of his food. It took him a while to work through it, the process of eating just being a bit difficult, and by the time the bowl was empty almost everyone else had woken up for a scheduled training session Tony had planned the week before. Bucky was both glad it was happening and dreading it all at the same time. He liked the problem solving exercises FRIDAY would generate for them to solve. Those were logical, predictable, perfect-able. He could knock them out in seconds. He liked proving he was worth something on the team.

So, when they finally made it to the training room, and Tony casually announced that he was reprogramming the AI for the small exercises, Bucky could have cried right then and there. The one thing he had actually planned to do all day, and the plans had changed. He took a deep breath, telling himself it was stupid to be upset over such a small thing, and ignored it. He went through the motions of the rest of the training, unfortunately getting toppled over by Peter a couple times, and ignoring everything he felt just to make it through the hour.

He felt embarrassingly exhausted, and it was only 11 AM. Bucky wished he knew how to be normal, or even just how to let himself be himself, but he couldn't. He didn't know how to stop hiding.

He wished his disability was so much more manageable than it was, then. He wished he could go back to the 40’s when he wasn’t ever too bothered by it, when he could so easily tuck everything away like a locked box under a bed-frame or deep into a full closet.

The botched experiments and decimation HYDRA had done to his brain left it permanently broken. His comprehension skills sometimes got the better of him, his focus, his calmness (did he even know what that word meant anymore)?, and no matter what had happened nothing could be worse than his disability flooding to each and every corner of his mind after being trapped behind a dam for so long.

Seventy years was a long, long time to ignore something like that.

Even after escaping the loud chatter of the team and taking half-refuge in the kitchen, Bucky felt like his chest was being pressed on so hard he couldn't breathe. The lights stabbed his eyes and every sound wiggled so far into his ears he thought his brain might burst. His shirt's texture was really starting to get to him, and it was cold in the compound today.

"Bucky?" Steve's gentle voice reminded him he was alive. "You okay?"

Bucky shrugged, a bit shaky, and shook his head no. He sat, unmoving, at the kitchen counter with a dead expression, trying to hold himself together like a bad crochet project caught on something sharp.

“You’re not alright, are you?”

”I’m fine.” Bucky said quietly, rubbing a hand across his lips and directing his attention to the tiles of the floor.

Steve’s somewhat disappointed expression melted into something sympathetic; understanding, as he started to make a cup of hot cocoa. He decided, then, that he should probably play it out as if he didn’t really know Bucky was having a hard time, even though the both of them would see right through it.

”I’m making hot cocoa, I’ll make you some, too, but you don’t have to drink it.”

He heard a small huff and took that as a yes, pouring hot milk into a cup with a small photo of a bluejay on it. He’d made a conscious decision to avoid Bucky’s cardinal mug, afraid the stark red would bother him and remind him of HYDRA’s star branding.

When he finally placed the mug in front of Bucky, the latter immediately wrapped his hands around it, probably to warm them up due to his poor temperature regulation.

”How about we watch that good bird documentary you like? The one with the hummingbirds.” Sam asked gently.

Bucky seemed to hesitate, probably winding through the labyrinth of his brain where every twist and turn told him he didn’t deserve help. However, he got up and started the slow journey to his room.

Once he’d finally made it in, he set his mug on the nightstand of his bed, and tugged off his shoes, making his way under the deep blue covers. (He never figured out what his favorite color was, so he just picked Steve’s).

Steve sat down beside him, not touching him or really looking at him too hard, and asked FRIDAY to pull up the documentary in question so Bucky didn’t have to. The large window darkened to hide the dark rainy sky behind it and lit up in the shape of a television screen, showcasing one of Tony’s more intricate technologies.

But at the end of the day, Bucky always ended up back there. He couldn’t get away from it, from himself.

”Steve?” He whispered when he felt embarrassing tears press at his shiny blue eyes.

”Yeah?” The blond replied, already hearing it in his voice.

Bucky didn’t answer for a moment, fighting with himself, wishing for a moment that he hadn’t even said anything.

”It’s cold.” Bucky finally said, his voice failing him halfway through.

He wrapped his own arms around himself as he just couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. He didn’t look at Steve, too ashamed, and Steve didn’t look at him, either. He knew better.

”FRIDAY, turn up the heat, please.” Steve said pointedly, and folded his half of the blanket over onto Bucky as a second layer. “You stay as close or far as you want, Buck. But know I’m here, I want to help, and I’m not judging you.”

Bucky felt like he was being ripped apart between letting himself be loved and helped or sparing what little dignity he had left. He wanted his brain to slow down and also stop feeling like mush, wanted his hands to stop shaking and his heart to stop aching.

Bucky wasn’t even sure how long they sat there, in silence other than the narrator’s kind voice and the occasional songbird’s cry.

He told himself, I am not strong enough for this.

”You’re strong, Bucky. Just breathe, it’s gonna be okay.”

And that was when Bucky turned over and dumped himself into Steve’s arms.

Unraveling into a messy pile of exhaustion, Bucky let himself be held only because he felt like he couldn’t do anything else. He let Steve just run the smallest of circles onto his back and tentatively pull him a little closer, because he didn’t have the energy to pull away.

”I’m not mad at you, you’re not weak or stupid or embarrassing. You’re my friend, Bucky. Just breathe.”

and maybe, everything would be just a little bit okay.

#pinkfics!💕#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #captain america #the winter soldier #fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction #MCU #marvel #marvel fanfic #type shit

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mojo-bro-tho · 1 month ago

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Blood Sugar… Ch. 9

~I’m gonna start off by saying two things. One, I lowkey recommend reading this one on AO3 cuz some of the formatting makes way more sense there but I’ll do my best with this too. Second of all, this chapter is ridiculously long and is really a big excuse for me to have fun with drama and set up plot. I hope it’s still good though. If you even just skim this, I promise I would not be offended lol there’s also so much dialogue in this holy shit I’m sorry~

Tags: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

Word count: 10.5k

Content Warning: Suggestive language, disrespectful attitude towards SW (for the plot, this is a Pretty Woman AU), distressing themes, world building lore dump that you can skip if you want-

AO3 like!

Previous!

…Being…

To be, or not to be? That was the fucking question. Lichdom, Professor, Emmrich. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was meant to be doing these past few days. Much less what he was meant to be all together. It would be nobler to see her, to stop avoiding her. No, he’d done worse than avoid, he had gone so far as to try and ignore her existence. Scratching out a moniker ill-earned from black books with copious amounts of ink. Oh, how fortunate he had felt in the moment of triumph and how quickly it had melted into a foaming sea of troubles.

How swift had it been? Flesh giving way to its consumption, devouring all rationale as it pleased. To be, in this case, felt as though it could be nothing more than a dream. Yet he was, for those rapturous moments. To dream was often to desire, and there laid the jagged, frayed edges of the mind that gnawed like teeth against his morality. It would be kinder to see her.

But with Emmrich, to be, to dream, to desire almost always came with dread. In a stone carved cage for the two of them, where everything around them was scorned by time, even the air, even himself, aside from her and this toiling want between them, she had asked him something crucial. ‘Do I frighten you, Emmrich?’ And he answered truthfully, perhaps the most truthful thing he had ever uttered in his life. He was afraid, and he was a hypocrite for it.

Because in a finite gap in reality, the weight of his fears had balanced perfectly on the scale with her languishing on the opposite end. Within those seconds he felt relief. Put out of his misery from the injury of burdening loneliness. Before the gap closed.

The man had not forgotten her last words to him. ‘See you next week, Lichdom.’ Not Emmrich, not even a playful Professor. With every step he took to get away from the mausoleum there came another bite of those ravorous teeth. It was spoken gently, some may have even seen reassurance laced into the phrase. But not Emmrich. The words lacked any sweetness. Tart enough to make his jaw clench and ache along the point she had pressed her lips into him.

Not to be seemed like the answer. In the wake of what they had done, sewn into that look of disappointment on her face, and uttered in the nonchalance that her voice mellowed to, somewhere between it all lied… anguish. He was meant to be Lichdom only, but he wasn’t anymore, or was he? Becoming Emmrich to her, the more curiosity took root.

And when he had called the number during the evening hours of Sunday, it had not been to cancel. He had to check something, had to know what it meant, or try to decipher that question that had yet to take shape in his mind. The balance taken by The Crows was exactly as they told him it would be. Which could only mean one thing, he had not been charged for what happened.

Rook hadn’t told them.

Why hadn’t she? Surely she was supposed to, right? It may have been a mistake but he couldn’t be sure and when the panic struck- He told them he wouldn’t be able to keep the appointment for Monday. The receptionist did not ask why, simply made a note of his absence and wished him a good rest of his evening. Because he wasn’t Emmrich to them, he was Lichdom. And even though she had called him Lichdom when they parted, she hadn’t told them. Emmrich still? Being and not being.

He was impossibly confused. And having a bedridden 6 year old didn’t exactly give him the chance to think clearly. So yes, he was afraid to admit it but the first cancellation had been nothing more than a reflex. A good reflex in retrospect, Manfred hadn’t been well enough yet to go to school, let alone The Belfry. The following two calls he’d made had been more purposeful, as well as each check of his accounts to see if the error had been remedied. It never was.

They needed to speak to each other about what happened. But there was an amount of… cruelty there. Rook had given him no real reason to discredit anything she had said or done, no indication that she was after something with malicious intent. Nor had she taken any action that overtly told him that she was being anything but genuine with him. But it would be ridiculous to not doubt. Only a besotted or naive fool would take all of this at face value.

Several days of nail biting anxiety. Several days of him staring at Miss Ingellvar’s work and considering setting it all on fire in his home office. Considering just how selfish he was being for allowing it all to get this far. Even more so for wasting the already borrowed time he had been afforded. He needed to focus on the Hand of Glory but he couldn’t, not with this torrent keeping his mind split at the seams.

Thursday morning, and Emmrich still felt conflicted. Still drowsy from the nearly closed curtain of a dream where he heard a woman laughing on the other side. Never seen, never known, and thereby making him uneasy. Being came with fear, not being came with suffering. So, for now, he would be between the two. A little shaken with a bit of an ache but neither too powerful that he couldn’t continue. Ignorance that was not quite bliss.

The air was cold… soberingly cold. He stood outside beneath his umbrella and let the chill settle into his hands and gold. It was a fight to not lean his shoulders against the soaked stone wall behind him. Heard the splashing footsteps of students rushing into the building to his left and knew he’d have no back in soon. Just another moment longer. If he were at home, he may have smoked while being swaddled by the petrichor dense air. Perhaps later.

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but the rain did make him feel better. It was enough to put a smile back on his face, a somewhat somber one but a smile nonetheless. More grounded now, the professor made his way inside. Chatter coated the halls and the greetings of students was a considerable aid to his weariness. He loved his job. He passed by Johanna’s room, even the familiar sound of her chastising had a way of making him feel some normalcy. Better now.

Emmrich sauntered back into his classroom, umbrella now at his side and being slipped into the caddy he kept by the door that rarely anyone used these days. “Good morning, everyone!” He called out jovially and received mostly incoherent muttering in response. “Yes, yes, I see the weather has claimed a few of you already.” Dreary days in Nevarra were commonplace, but they held the same effect regardless. And in a way, that too gave him some peace. A handful of chuckles came his way.

“Please take your seats so that we may begin, and I’m sure everyone’s essays have made their way to the podium?” Another series of mumblings. He took a glance at the stand that typically housed the projector, a fair amount of papers sat atop it. And a couple of his students shuffled towards it to add to the stack. Emmrich found himself approaching his own desk, readjusting the sleeves of his pinstripe button-up shirt, smoothing the front of his knitted vest. He had popped in earlier to drop off his things, not bothering with his office yet, before feeling the urge to melt away into the rain outside. A little disrepair he’d had over himself this week that no one could really glean.

His satchel was soon opened, quietly pulling the case that held his glasses from within and wordlessly slipping the frames on. A circle of blue weighed in his peripherals. Why wouldn’t he just throw it away? He looked back to the desk as if to pretend he still hadn't seen it, when something else captured his attention. It took him a second to notice but… one of his handkerchiefs sat beside the bag.

He had no recollection of taking it out that day. Did he leave one behind yesterday? No, that couldn’t be it. And the handkerchief was certainly his, the small embroidery on the corner of the neatly folded fabric confirmed that. As he went to pick it up, he noticed something poking out from one of the edges. A scrap of notebook paper. With his thumb and pointer finger, he pinched the page and slowly slid it away from the fabric.

‘The Crows send their regards from the back of the room.’

Maker, don’t do this to him now. His gaze flicked up to the top rows, trying to keep his expression neutral while frantically searching the faces there. Sure enough, in the middle section, taking an end seat to his right, was a woman he had been fighting to not think about for the last five days. Ignoring, avoiding, seen for the first time and known. Rook. Even from a distance he was certain it was her.

He watched her gather the back of her softly dampened hair into her hand, securing it with a claw and allowing the front ends to remain free. With the desk obscuring her body, he could only make out the fact that her arms were bare from a thin strapped top the color of slightly withered violets. And when she saw him take in her visage, she smiled.

Full of condemnation or arrogance, he couldn’t be sure. But it was not kind. Not that he believed he actually deserved the kindness if it had been there. The smallest peek of teeth, and the slanting of sharply lined eyes were meant to cut into him. She leaned forward, resting her cheek against a propped arm. His lungs felt heavy, while his intensities wished to float and have all his insides meet in the middle of his torso. Hovering like a fog. He couldn’t stare long. And with her out of his sights his mind had the room to form thousands of questions.

Why was she here? How did she get in? Was she allowed to do this? Did her job send her? Should he call her down and send her away? Endless questions that didn’t show on his face but Rook noticed them dripping off his bangles. Anxious little twinkles from motions he didn’t need to make. She got Bellara’s notebook ready, along with all the highlighters she insisted on Rook using. Gave her a little diagram to follow, which honestly Rook thought was pretty cute.

Emmrich chose not to say anything, which she clearly had expected him to do. Because saying anything would be acknowledging that he noticed her and so asking her to leave would just draw attention. That was the absolute last thing he wanted right now. Just pretend like she’s not there. That was all he had to do.

This was just a normal Thursday for one of his sociocultural classes. Same groups of students he’d had so far this year, no one new. No one he had an entirely ill-advised and inappropriate rendezvous with in a bloody cemetery for Maker’s sake. Pretend as if he hadn’t ever heard her say his name like it was a mercy in need of acting. The thought of those manicured nails dragging down his neck didn’t keep him finding sleep Saturday night. He hadn’t run a finger over the spot on his jaw where her lip gloss was left behind like a wound and considered tasting it in lieu of tasting her.

How was he supposed to focus like this? Just follow the lesson plan. Try not to look in the top row.

The first few minutes were fine. Maybe ten or so had passed before he looked back up at her again to find her taking notes. What was she writing about? It was making him nervous. And then she looked up form her page and he-

He turned back around. Focus. “Now, I’m sure you all recall our discussions on how the Palansene were paramount to the establishment of ancient Nevarra, and I’m sure you remember from prior courses on the Known Histories of Elvhenan that they were not the only ones to have settled there. It was that very cultural exchange that drastically shifted the landscape of our ancient society. Which eventually led to a few points of interest that we can witness the effects of as recently as the last 500 years. Does anyone recall any of those points?” He asked. About five hands raised. “Miss Verulus.”

“Nevarra was the first of the former Imperium territories to abolish slavery after the Exalted Marches, and that is largely credited towards their shared history with the Elvhenan Empire.”

“Correct you are, Miss. The Palansene were once part of a larger collective of human migrants that had broken down into multiple fragments from there. In particular, the Palansene tribe settled across both Nevarra and the Free Marches. Yet, there are some glaring cultural differences between the two. And I promise you, class, this does lead to something of great importance. Is anyone able to pinpoint what is currently believed to be the first important cultural exchange between the Palansene and the Elvhenan?”

Hesitation. Disquiet. Reluctant hands start to raise again. He points at random. “Gold. Nevarra has always been a gold mining nation. But it was the ancient Elvhenan that taught early Nevarrans how to utilize it, before the Dispersion, and you can see at a lot of sites with gold designs that were influenced by the Elvhen people.”

“Well done, Miss Ablinger. But that fact is rooted within a different exchange. Can we get another?” Emmrich finds another hand.

“Burial rituals? A lot of human societies, prior to the Imperium, that were isolated from Elvhen settlements would burn their dead rather than bury them. That practice spread prior the the Exalted Marches as a result of Nevarra incorporating burial rituals from Elvhenan. And the earliest golden artifacts we have all come from those sites.”

“Excellent work, Mr. Barkhausen! But again, there was more to it. Would anyone else like to try their hand at guessing?”

No hands in his direct eye-line. Dare he look up? It wasn’t fair to his students in the top row to avoid them just because of Rook… But he was afraid to. A quick glance and confoundingly he saw that indeed one person had a hand raised. A well manicured hand sporting a smartwatch on her wrist. Maker help him- Emmrich pointed towards her rather than saying her name. It would be best if he didn’t, and to be entirely honest the idea of calling out to her right now made his head spin. The look on his face must have been amusing as Rook grinned impishly.

“Philosophy.” She replied simply. A fact he was incredibly relieved by but drew a crease in his brow all the same.

“Expand on that, if you would.”

“The Vir Tanadhal, consisting of three leading principles. Vir Assan, Vir Bor’Assan, and Vir Adahlen. Vir Adahlen in particular speaks to a lot of the originating practices that the Palansene carried prior to their settling and hosts some similarities to their belief in animism. Then there’s geography to consider after that.” The way she spoke was in a lackadaisical drawl. As though the answer ought to have been fairly obvious. The wetted strands of her hair were starting to curl close to her chin.

That was not something they covered in full with their lessons, which meant it was either information she already knew or had learned in his absence. Emmrich wasn’t sure if either would be more encouraging. “Quite. It is believed that a trading of ideologies was what first sparked the cultural blend of the Palansene and the Elvhenan Empire that entirely birthed many of the foundational customs of early Nevarra.” He turned back around, putting his attention back towards the blackboard. Teeth bit at the inside of his cheek, he wanted to ask where she’d learned that from but he couldn’t. Not now. “In the Free Marches we can find in their history a lack of this immersion. And as we just heard, their geographical location plays a pivotal role in that. Specifically to do with their proximity to the Amaranthine Ocean and the modern nation of Antiva.”

Something crinkled far behind him, recognizable enough to make his finger twitch. Was she seriously eating candy right now? In his class? Leave it be. “Arlathan once stretched across the entirety of modern Tevinter, Antiva, and Rivain. But it was the Neromenians and the Qarinus Tribes that invaded these segments, not the Palansene. Because of these factors, along with an entire ocean to the east, the Palansene who had settled towards The Free Marches were also being imbued with the cultural exchange of these tribes at greater expectancy…” Rook is Antivan, but she has a Dalish name. There aren’t too many official clans in Antiva proper, is she from The Free Marches then? Enough! Of course, she just had to insist on making her presence known. As if he could have forgotten. As if he could successfully ignore her at all. This week had done nothing but incessantly prove that fact.

Class continued. Emmrich half anticipated Rook to continuously raise her hand to answer his questions, but he was thankful to see that she chose to remain silent for the duration. He couldn’t be entirely sure if it was because she had truly nothing to say or if because she chose to focus on other ways to prod at him. First it was the candy wrapper, then the sound of a chiming notification came through from the back. Could have been someone else but he doubted it. To his credit, he was right, Rook had gotten a message from Viago. She silenced it though, not wanting to be interrupted again.

Then something clattered to the floor. He turned around to find her hopping down to the row below. Her bag had flipped off the edge, and Mr. Zimmerman was swiftly on his feet to help her. He flashed her a sheepish grin, and Rook returned it with a soft upturn of her lips. Sweet and gentle… but something didn’t feel right about it. Emmrich couldn’t place exactly what it was about it that seemed off putting to him. But that smile was more like the one she’d flashed him at The Lighthouse, not while they were in the garden. And some part of him was horrified that he could easily tell the difference.

It seemed as if checking the time was an impulse he couldn’t stop when she was around. The wall clock, his watch, even his phone once. How much longer? Each minute seemed longer than the last, and the more time passed the more time it seemed he was lacking any. And when he finally reached the end of his lesson plan, turning towards the class to give them their assignments, he nearly lost all sensation in his nervous system.

She was looking at him, with the same expression she’d had the day he found her listening to music outside Blackthorn. Unfettered, earnest, nothing like the way she had damn near sneered at him earlier. Bursting with life and energy despite the silence. Looking towards the bottom of the desk, he could slightly make out movement. As if she was slowly tapping her feet while looking at him. Dreamy, clouded over eyes that didn’t waver from him, even when their gazes met.

“I shall have your essays graded before the end of Monday. Next week, we’ll be covering more material from the early integration of the Palansene and the Elvhenan Empire. Along with how the eastern and western divisions of the tribe began to shift as a result. So please, do come prepared with the reading as listed in the monthly syllabus. I hope to see all of you bright and early on Tuesday!” He projected to the room, finding it difficult to look away from the top row.

Emmrich tore himself away and went back to his own desk by the blackboard. He leaned against the edge of it, watching students shamble towards the door with a passive expression. The more of them left the room, the more coherent the chattering that remained became. “I’m sure I’ve never seen you in here before. I think I’d remember you.”

“Oh, would you now?” So familiar, yet so hollow comparatively. Brittle and painless like sugar glass.

”If not then I must have short term memory loss. Nicolas.”

“You can call me Rook.” Emmrich’s hand gripped the edge of the wood.

“Rook… cool name. What are you majoring in?”

“Hmmmm. Haven’t decided yet, actually. I know that probably sounds stupid but I’ve always been kind of indecisive about this stuff. I like too many things, you know?”

“Yeah, I hear you. And I totally get that vibe from you.”

“That obvious, huh?” Rook chuckled. Artificial. Had she ever humored him that way before? Would she still?

“You also seem like the party girl type too.”

“Do I? And here I thought I was hiding it pretty well. Damn.” Please, stop talking.

“If you’re up for it, some of us are meeting up at the ReLight tomorrow. You should come too.”

“Tomorrow? Well… normally I hang out with my boyfriend on Fridays.” What? “But he’s been acting super weird recently. Like avoiding me and stuff... Ah, shit, sorry! Probably shouldn’t talk about that.” She must know he’s listening. Once again, he was correct.

“It’s all good! I wouldn’t want to overstep but… Well, if your boyfriend is ignoring you then maybe you should go out, you know? Take your mind off of things.”

“Mr. Zimmerman.” Emmrich called out, finally snapping his gaze towards the pair slowly approaching down the steps. He watched Rook slide her sucker back into her mouth. “Apologies, but if this conversation could be taken elsewhere, that would be ideal.” Usually, he wasn’t one to scold too superficially. But in all frankness, he simply was not in the mood today.

“Right! Yeah! Sorry, Teach. Do you wanna-” He turned to Rook, who gave him a sympathetic look and interrupted him.

“I actually have a couple questions for Professor Volkarin.” It was strange hearing her say his last name. “Maybe I can catch you later?”

In response to her question, Nicolas tore out a corner from his notes and scratched something out on it. Muttering something about if she were to change her mind. He slipped the pencil behind his ear and handed the scrap to Rook. One more quick smile and he was rushing out the door, leaving the room devoid of anyone aside from him and Rook. It made the space feel strangely claustrophobia inducing, despite the two of them being a good distance apart.

The moment the door closed, Emmrich saw something flicker behind her eyes. She sighed, crumbling the paper into her palm. Entirely merciless. It was things like that that engulfed him with worry. And then she’d look at him and-

“Fancy seeing you here, Professor Volkarin.” It was like the rest of the world disappeared, singling him out the way a marksman might hone in on a stationary target. Easy pickings. “You’ve saved me once again. However shall I pay you back this time?” She teased, nearly skipping towards the waste bin to throw the paper away. Hadn’t even looked at it.

For the first time since he had noticed her, he was able to examine her up close. The clothing was much more like what he usually anticipated, though a bit more relaxed. Black pants that swayed comfortably but hung off her hips to reveal most of her abdomen. The purple top just barely covered her ribs. There was a chain wrapped around her waist, silvery with the shapes of hearts scattered around it. And a dense, black cardigan rested across her forearm.

The tattered messenger bag carelessly teetering off the edge of her shoulder. Perhaps it was because he needed something to look at that wasn’t her, or maybe it had something to do with it lightly swinging from side to side and bumping against her upper thigh. But either way, he stared at the bag for far longer than he’d ever cared to before. It had clearly been used for many years, full of tears where some stitches were done with, in polite terms, a lack of finesse while others were well practiced. Pins, buttons, and patches scattered across it. One in particular stood out, the only spot of green across the menagerie of black, silver, and white. Shaped like an eye within the center of the sun and large letters beneath labeling it as ‘Seeker’. It was strangely familiar.

For a few moments, Emmrich did not respond to her. Simply watched, taking her in. Watched the way her earrings rattled against one another. How the sides and front of her shoes peeked out from the curtain of her pants to reveal various doodles marked into the rubber. Her mouth, the white candy stick rolling from one cheek to the other at the behest of her tongue. Never staying still. Never a pond, always a river. Not tranquil.

“Why are you here, Rook?” Perhaps he shouldn’t have said it so coldly. She tilted her head, feeling something needle in her intestines.

“That should be Miss de Riva to you, Professor Volkarin.” She rolled his name like it was something to savor. He wished she wouldn’t say it anymore. Made it harder to think.

“We are not in a session right now.”

“No, but I did just attend one of your classes. That makes me a student, at least for today.” Arguing over semantics would get him nowhere.

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“True. But, in all fairness, you haven’t been where you��re supposed to be either. I think I’m allotted a pass on this one.” Rook’s movements were fluid. Slowly approaching the heightened platform of the desk. Not straight on but passively shifting to and fro while encroaching.

“This is not the same. This is my work place, so aside from you being an indomitable distraction from my lesson plan, you being here could be seen as a safety risk if the wrong person notices. You don’t even have a visitor's badge!” He chastised. “Rook, they could have called security-”

“Miss de Riva.”

The correction came again, completely ignoring his concerns. This time spoken more seriously and made Emmrich’s heart leap to his throat. It hadn’t even been a week since she was insisting that he not refer to her as Miss if he could help it. With furrowed brows she observed him, almost a scowl. And again, he felt both conflicted and perplexed. “Have… Have I upset you?” To his question, she scoffed.

“Oh, you’re putting that fancy degree of yours to excellent use, Professor! However could you guess?” The chuckle she released was exasperated and entirely irritated. Deepened thanks to the confection obstruction in her cheek. Bare arms crossed at the center of her ribcage.

“It was never my intention to do so. Forgive me.” Emmrich sighed.

“I wouldn’t need to forgive you if you just didn’t do that.”

“Do what, exactly?” He questioned. “Is it not within my ability in this contract to cancel if I am unavailable? You said so yourself, we both reserve the right to not hold a session for whatever reason we deem appropriate.” He watched Rook pull the sucker out of her mouth and heard it clink against the back of her teeth in her rush.

“Yeah. We do. But that’s a once in a while thing. Your contract has you listed as three times a week unless you update it to less. You’ve canceled three times now without updating. If you cancel again, they’re going to assume you’re cheating us out of money and cut you off altogether.” She explained pointedly, dragging her free hand over the top of her head. That was not something he was aware of, and perhaps he would have apologized again had Rook not continued. “And this is suddenly about the contract now, of all things! Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Has it not been about the contract every time before now?” Emmrich felt no need to raise his voice. He rarely ever did. But the calmness of it set the roots of Rook’s hair on end. A tingle meandering down her scalp like ants trying to crawl into her brain.

“This isn’t ‘before’ anymore. I think you know that too.” Quiet, pained, a wound left open to pick at. He couldn’t help but feel gutted over the look on her face. Not quite looking him in the eyes and instead fervently fixed on his collar.

Emmrich stepped down from the small stage with a small push. He had tried not to approach her before, worried of what would happen if he got too close again. Closeness is what led them to this predicament. Closeness with her always brought a smell that made his mouth water. And in wanting to touch her, to hold her jaw with spread fingers and her chin against his palm to hold her gaze to his, instead he shoved his hands into his pockets. Pesky things had to be kept away.

“Rook.” This time, she did not correct him. “Look at me.” He instructed and she complied. Rook looked hurt. He felt disgusted by it. “You must understand. I would never, ever, under any circumstances purposefully cause you distress. But there is… there’s so much to sift through, questions and I couldn’t-” How should he phrase this? “There are vital circumstances that must be considered. So, I am sorry for having done so. It was never my intention.” Circumstances, huh?

Admittedly, it hadn’t been something he considered. How this must have made her feel. Maybe he assumed she wouldn’t care. That… wasn’t like him. When it came to matters of these sorts, he had always been keen on intently looking upon his partners. Another reason to feel terrible and out of sorts. Of course she was upset, how could she not be? He had left her in a garden after taking her in such an abrupt and entirely ungentlemanly manner. And he ran. He would be angry in her position as well. But that didn’t clear up any of his confusion over this, frankly, absurd scenario he’d found himself in. Still, her expression softened.

Outside the lecture hall, a group of students passed through, with voices far louder he cared to hear right now. A body slammed into his door, causing them both to flinch and look towards it. Laughter ensued, conversation continued, and soon quieted with distance. But it had made him horribly aware of where they were.

“I… guess we have things to talk about.” Rook breathed out, lightly frustrated.

“It would seem so.” Emmrich smiled tiredly. “My office is on the floor below. Perhaps there would be more suitable? At the very least it would be quieter.” Private. He still wasn’t sure if that was a wise decision or not. Rook nodded, rolling back and forth on her feet from heel to toe.

“Yeah. Quiet would be nice.” Something twisted at her insides. Coiling up like a venomous snake.

Rook hadn’t gone into this conversation fully realizing that she was upset. Well, she knew she was but not really why or to what extent. And an attempt had been made to mask it, hide it away having felt at ease while taking notes, if not a little mischievous. But the moment he’d asked why she was there, it had seemed far too uncaring. Callous. It made her stomach hurt. His current demeanor was preferable, though obviously uncertain. Yes, quiet would be preferred.

“I can meet you down there. I have to make a call real quick.” Really she had to send some texts that she couldn’t let him look at. Emmrich went back to the desk, taking considerable effort to step away from her. Gathering up his satchel and coat into his arms.

“Of course. Take your time.” He replied reassuringly. “Down the stairs, to your left, I’m close to the end of the hall. My name is on the door as well.”

Aspects of this conversation felt too similar to the last time they were together, in Emmrich’s opinion. Although his heart hammered in his chest, his muscles relaxed at least in knowing this wasn’t the end of the conversation. A stark difference from Saturday. He wanted to press his lips into the top of her head again despite that. Trying to remedy the awkwardness that settled with the dust. Not now though. Later, if she would allow it. If they were allowed to at all.

Rook crunched down on the candy, its stick flicked into the waste bin to sit alongside the phone number she didn’t want. Emmrich opened the door first to step out into the hallway with his umbrella quickly tucked under his arm. He held it open and allowed Rook to pass through into the busy hallway. Her eyes were on her watch, in need of something else to keep her grounded with all the formless noise around her.

The professor spared her once glance at her scrunched expression as she peered at her watch before parting ways. It wasn’t usually like Viago to message her on her days off, and she ignored it before and set her watch to silent. Figured he was asking if she wanted a call-in appointment, which was the last thing she needed at the moment. But now she had three messages.

‘Where is Dareth meant to be working today?’

‘Do you know where Dareth is? Yes or no.”

‘Merda, if you don’t answer this in the next hour, I swear to the Maker that I will become your worst nightmare.’

Rook stared down at the words with a heavy crease in her brow. The last text was from ten minutes ago. She redirected the texts to her phone to type.

‘I don’t know? He normally works deliveries on weekdays.’

‘He might be at TL today though.’

‘If not there, you can check with D.’

It was odd for him to ask her. But she supposed that came with the drawback of being his reference. Even stranger though was the fact that Vi needed to contact her at all. Dareth wasn’t one to skip a shift without warning. She went through her texts, nothing new from him. So instead, she went to his parole officer.

‘Yo, Jac, Vi is having a piss fit over Dareth being late?? I guess??’

‘Sick???’

‘Phone broke again? Let me know, I can pay.’

‘Just have him call in and apologize, k?’

Now it was time for the original person she was planning on texting. Recent texts, bell and orange heart emoji. Last text Rook had gotten was from early this morning saying she landed and Rook liked the message in response.

‘Your school smells like dust lol’

‘But I dropped off your essay and your notes are perfect’

‘Thanks, Rook. I owe you.’ Instant response, heart emoji.

‘I take payments of halla cakes.’

‘At your earliest convenience.’ Heart emoji, halla emoji.

Rook turned the screen off, tossing her phone back into her bag with a groan. She would like to ask how Cyrian is doing but… It would be better to wait. Probably. Give Bels a chance to process whatever was happening. As for Dareth, Jacobus would straighten his cousin out. Kid or not, he basically ran their place so if all else fails then he’ll straighten him out.

She had stayed close to the Lecture Hall, peering at the door one more time to ready herself for the walk downstairs. Disquiet was beginning to inch up her back. Circumstances, he says… The sharp click of heels stabbed into her thoughts, forcing Rook’s head to snap in the direction it was coming from. Despite the hallway still having a fair amount of people in it, the students parted ways for the person approaching with a heavy step.

The woman was taller than Rook, but was likely only a bit over average in height for a human woman. Her hair was grey but peppered with streaks of dull black, tied back into a full bun. Upper lip thinner than the bottom, painted a flat, deep shade of red. She wore a white blouse with gold buttons up the front and a draped skirt clung to her waist, nearly mistakable for a pencil skirt, in a similar wine tone. The shape of her proved to be rather curvaceous. Without looking at Rook directly, the woman’s head turned to look towards the lecture hall as well and tsked.

“Blasted old cretin. Not in his office this morning and not here now? Where the bloody-” The woman’s eyes were icy, but shifted to a lake green in the filmy glare of her blue light glasses against the fluorescents. “You. Half-wit. Are you lost?” The woman asked, may as well have been pointing directly at Rook’s face while doing so. The gold bracelets on the woman’s arms did not move, cuffed tight in geometric shapes and fully revealed by her rolled sleeves.

“I don’t think so.” Rook replied in a placid tone.

“Then why are you standing outside of Volkarin’s room like a lost puppy?” Ok, damn. Mommy, chill.

“Um-”

”Ugh, are you looking for him too?” She asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Yes?” In a manner of speaking.

“Well, come on then. The fool is probably in his office now because he’s out to irritate me, specifically.” Oh, she hates him then. The woman turned on her heel, not bothering to check if Rook was actually following. She was, but that's besides the point. “I don’t recognize you.” She commented, and Rook thought it was strange how the students always seemed to move around her rather than having to navigate the flow. Not even Rook herself could command a space that much. It was honestly impressive.

“I don’t take your class.” She responded.

The woman regarded that with a ‘hmph’ sound. Not quite arrogantly but certainly dumbfounded. “Almost everyone who takes one of Volkarin’s classes takes mine as well. And I don’t recognize you at all.” Does Bellara take her class too? “Which means one of two things. You either are a half-wit or you don’t even belong to this department.” The woman glanced back over her shoulder. “You certainly don’t dress like you’re meant to be here. Language Arts? Fine Arts? One of those.”

To be completely honest, Rook couldn’t get a real read on this woman. Everything about her was fast paced and stinging as a result of it. Like every word she spoke was a slap to the temple. “Neither, actually.”

“I hope you’re not some hussy.” She sighed. “I can save you the time and let you know that prattling fool hasn’t hit that stage of his midlife crisis yet.”

“Shoot, was it the bare midriff that gave me away? Drat.” Rook tsked. The woman chuckled lowly. “But I suppose I missed the bit in the student handbook that stated teachers are allowed to accuse you of being a trollop.” She continued as the two trotted down the stairs.

“They aren’t, I just don’t care.” That much was incredibly obvious. “In that case though, do yourself a favor and start looking into the forensics courses for next year. It’ll at least give you a reason to put on a real fucking shirt.”

“I’ll get right on that, Ma’am.”

There was something about this woman that strangely reminded Rook of her mother. A very blunt, far less passive aggressive version of her mother. Profoundly intense. Yet, impossibly charismatic at the same time. Or maybe that was just the mommy issues talking, who’s to say? Either way, Rook found her to be quite entertaining despite the antagonism. Partially because it came off as sort of a steel edged flattery.

The pair were brisk in moving down the hall in the direction Emmrich had given her earlier. “Now, Volkarin has been acting like a complete milksop this week. Absolutely insufferable. So I suggest you ask him whatever you’re needing and make it fast so that you’re spared from the weepy look on his face.”

“He seemed fine in class.”

“Thank the Maker for small mercies then that it’s just me who has to suffer his whining. And curse that bastard too while I’m at it for the same reason.” This woman was a fucking riot. Oh, Rook wished she had been here a couple hours ago before she realized how pissed off she was. This would have made her feel better. It still kind of was, but she imagined it would have been even better before his class.

“Or maybe the Maker was cursing you by making you deal with it.”

“Hah! Must have. Glad to see that not every nitwit in this infernal place is incapable of falling for his amenable drivel. Makes me irritated every time I have to hear a complaint.”

“Nothing wrong with a firmer hand from time to time. If you go too easy on someone then they don’t always have the drive to push themselves.” And in reality, Rook missed pushing herself. The woman did not reply, but she did hum approvingly.

As the two walked further into the hall, the quieter it became. Echoes of conversation dampening against linoleum. Blanketing it all with a spell-like quality. This area smelled stronger of cleaning solution and lacked the lingering wafts of sweat, deodorant, and copious amount of dry shampoo that she had caught while checking her phone. Although she couldn’t say either was particularly pleasant. Too sterile made her think of hospitals so maybe the musk and dust was better.

They were soon approaching the end of the hall. A gold lettered plate came into view with his name impressively inlaid upon the dark, wooden door. What little nerves Rook had while alone had been successfully remedied by the brash woman’s presence.

“Did you want me to wait for you two to finish?” Rook asked. Whatever she was needing was obviously important, so she didn’t want to intrude.

“Pah! Please! If how long finishing takes is what you’re worried about then you might as well walk right in.” That ashamedly made Rook sputter more of a laugh than she should have.

She reached for the door, nails short but near immaculate, and didn’t bother with knocking once she found that it was in fact unlocked. The woman cracked the door open and motioned for Rook to enter first. She intended to take a moment to take in the scenery but the following few phrases took priority.

Emmrich stepped back from a rather impressive bookcase and his gaze quickly found hers. Far more relaxed than it had been earlier in the classroom. “Rook-” Then up, eyes widen, a single twitch of his upper lip. “Johanna!” Ah, she must be the woman’s name.

“Rook?” Johanna followed close behind, closing the door with her. Then the two women shared a look. One where Johanna’s held a sudden realization while Rook was… well, just sort of there. “You’re Rook?”

“Last time I checked, yes.” Now she was a bit confused, was she meant to know this person? Looking back to Emmrich, she saw a well of worry.

“Ah! That explains it!” Johanna exclaimed. “You’re the woman standing in for Franziska. No wonder I didn’t recognize you.” Emmrich’s thoughts were on fire. This was the worst case scenario.

“I didn’t realize other people knew what the plan was.” Rook admitted. She had been under the impression that Emmrich was keeping this on the downlow. But she supposed if this was a department issue, then it likely made sense at least one other teacher was involved.

“Johanna, was there something you needed from me?” Emmrich interjected, hands clasped together in front of his stomach. Rook couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at him.

“You never gave me the new key to the Necropolis. You said to pick it up from you yesterday but you left in a tizzy and then you were Maker knows where this morning.” Johanna complained, waving a single hand dismissively.

“Yes, my apologies. Let me retrieve that for you.” Emmrich quickly stepped towards his desk, dotted with picture frames that she couldn’t peak at from this angle. But this gave Rook a moment to examine the space as a whole. One might call it cozy, as it was far from spacious. But the slim furnishing did well to compensate for the abject lack of space. The set of windows on the opposite wall were covered with white roller shades, blocking her view of the rain. And an impressive amount of potted plants decorated the windowsill.

“Dr. Hezzonkoss, by the way. I imagine we’ll be seeing quite a bit more of each other.” Johanna stretched out a hand towards Rook. And she took it, hiding the surprise at how cold her fingers were.

“Oh? Why is that?” Rook questioned earnestly. Johanna scowled, though her eyes darted towards the tall man at the desk rather than at Rook herself.

“He hasn’t even told you yet? I’ve been trying to set up some time with you ever since things became official. Franziska was majoring with my side of the department. So I’ve been wanting to offer my assistance as well.”

“This is the first I’m hearing about it.”

“Now where did I put that blasted key?” Emmrich asked too loudly to be natural.

He was definitely nervous about something, that much was clear. But Rook couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was. “You know, it was actually my idea to hire you for this. Not even my students had the damn backbone for it, and we can’t exactly solicit them for obvious reasons. Though, I figured he’d pick someone more mousy.” Johanna praised her and simultaneously complained.

Ah, so that’s what it was. Rook should’ve guessed Johanna was a patron of her business, a busy woman with that sort of steel-wool attitude would fit right in. That at least explained where the professor had gotten their number from, it had been something she was a bit curious about given his obvious inexperience. Crows don’t really ask those sorts of questions though, it usually leads to rather uncomfortable places. And it seemed just like Emmrich to try and cover for his friends extracurricular activities. There wasn’t a need to be embarrassed though, they were all adults here.

“If I had known another one of our customers worked here, I would’ve dressed up a bit nicer!” Rook jested, hearing the sound of drawers closing too loudly. “Would it be rude of me to ask who your regular specialist is? My first guess was either Wren or Crane. They usually go for the Dommy-Mommy types like you.”

“Aha! There it is!” Emmrich closed the gap between him and the doctor. Holding out the key to her expectantly, almost pleadingly. “Will that be all?”

She eyed him suspiciously, taking the new, gold colored key by slipping her pinky through the ring and plucking it away. “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Wren or Crane. Do you recommend them?” She asked.

“I don’t think Rook is allowed to answer things like that.”

“It’s fine, Emmrich.” She reassured. “We aren’t exactly competitive like that, sharing clients is fairly common. Variety is the spice of life. But to answer your question, Dr. Hezzonkoss, yes I do. If your tastes are more inclined towards those of feminine variety, then Wren might be the better choice for you.”

Johanna Hezzonkoss paused… A rather tumultuous one at that. Rook’s expression remained pleasant despite it, albeit a tad confused. Curiosity turned into realization. Then to rampant titulation. Fuck. And then his colleague laughed. A real, deep in the belly laugh that filled what little gaps of space the room had left to give. Tear pricking, unbridled amusement, pointed directly at Emmrich but knowing it was entirely at the expense of the young woman beside her.

“Oh- Oh, wait, you’re fucking serious?” Her head snapped in Emmrich’s direction with the widest grin he’d ever seen her sport in his life. “I thought you picked up some hack actor for this! Volkarin, when I said you couldn’t even pay a two-bit hooker to take lessons from you after you probably ran Franziska off, I didn’t think you’d take it so literally! Maker preserve me!” The sentence was clear, though partially broken up between spurts of puttering chuckles. “This is too perfect.

Immediately, Emmrich’s sights darted towards Rook. Still smiling calmly, but her shoulders were straighter, and whatever hopeful glimmer he had seen behind her eyes when she first came in was thoroughly stamped down. He felt like he couldn’t breathe but his mouth started to form something regardless.

“That’s not-”

“Well, to the professor’s credit and yours, I’m far more expensive than ‘two-bits’. Though, if you wanted my opinion, I’d say the only difference between them and myself is marketing.” Rook jabbed. Quick to pivot from the mistake of showing her hand too much. And she scolded herself for making an assumption she normally wouldn’t.

Johanna raised a brow. “Oh? How much do you cost then?” She asked with an uncharacteristic softness that set Emmrich on edge.

“You don’t have to answer that, Rook.”

“For this task or my usual gigs?” She continued, ignoring his intervention. It was too late anyway. Acting shy and secretive about it now would just make it worse, speaking unfortunately from experience. Just not usually Rook’s.

“The usual.” The doctor clarified. Rook showed a bit more teeth.

“Depends. My standard package costs 1,000 Kings an hour. But if you had more… specific tastes, I could put you in contact with my Handler to work out a good price for you.”

Johanna looked back to Emmrich with nothing short of glee. “Oh, you got the real deal, Volkarin! She’s even got a pimp! And she’s expensive.”

“Handler, not a pimp. But I guess that’s just a matter of semantics to the laypeople. I actually work for an agency.” To Rook’s correction, Johanna clicked her tongue.

“I suppose this explains why we haven't been introduced yet. Good thing I’m no prude. And I actually think I quite like you, Rook.” Her voice came out practically buzzing with excitement. “You’ve got bite. You’ll do nicely against those pricks on the board… but you will need some better training.” She seized Rook’s jaw in a tight grasp, turning her head sharply from side to side, examining her. She did not flinch. Eyes clouded and unwavering. But Emmrich did, fist clenching at his side. “A few classes with me should set you on the right path. Perhaps some etiquette lessons too while we’re at it. You could stand to be a bit more polite.” Emmrich stepped forward again, ready to intervene, even succeeded in grasping Johanna’s shoulder. But Rook-

“Of course, Ma’am. It’d be my pleasure to be molded by your capable hands.” She mused, tilting her head affectionately into Johanna’s harsh thumb. Emmrich tugged at the doctor’s shoulder, pulling her a pace away from Rook and drawing her attention back to him.

“You’re being incredibly rude right now, you realize that, right?” He questioned. Johanna raised a brow, noting the annoyance in his voice that he did not normally harbor. He hesitated, taking in a sobering breath. “Rook has taken to the studies very well so far, and she's providing us a great service that we desperately needed. Be nice. Please?” He implored. Johanna looked towards Rook with a raised brow.

“He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he?”

“Johanna!”

“Afraid not. A roll in the hay with me is about ten times more than our projected budget for every session.” Rook shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m well worth every bit.”

Again, he felt that ripple of unease. There was nothing about Rook’s demeanor that read as cold, or upset, but the air around her seemed to be colder than death to Emmrich. Face frozen into one that almost reflected back a mixture of Johanna’s own dismissal and her unique flavor of artificial sweetener. Rigor mortis in the expression but nowhere else, early in its death. She had not really looked at him at all during this interaction, she had no desire to. What would be the point?

Johanna sighed in relief. “Probably for the best. If you think he’s bad now, you should see him whenever someone is stupid enough to give him attention. It’s like his brain gets replaced by a wounded puppy’s.” She brushed off Emmrich’s hand without care.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rook chuckled dully. Johana twirled the key around her finger.

“Next time you skulk around in here, come find me first. And wear some half decent clothes. I won’t have one of my pupils dress like a lazy tramp.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Rook replied with a grin. Johanna turned, heels clacking loudly in the short distance it took for her to return to the door. With a hand on the door knob, she turned her head to glance back at Emmrich.

“Oh, and Volkarin.” He could only make out the side of her mouth, but the jeering nature of her expression reached her eyes. Sharp, taunting, and hot like a fire poker fresh from the embers. “Try not to bankrupt us before the Eluvian Foundation gets the chance to.”

With that, she left. A flitting yet jagged chuckle quelled behind the door she closed. All the air in the room left with her, leaving them both without the means to have sound travel in a voided vacuum. Until Emmrich’s held breath was released.

He found Rook still standing near the small sofa, still staring in the direction Johanna had been standing. One of the straps from her top threatened to slip off her shoulder. In her mind, she searched. No notes, no chords. Peace at last, at the price of reduction of self. Circumstances, indeed. The beginnings of a spiny headache was starting to creep up with the debate on if she should tell Teia about this. His eyes were on her, burning holes into her skin as they too searched for something.

“Rook, please, let me explain.” There was a desperation there, a wavering. But she just… smiled. Again but not quite. The distinction of which she was beginning to regret allowing him to know. Whatever.

“Don’t worry about it. No explanation needed for that, I think.” She said plainly, reaching into her bag to root around and grab her phone. More messages from Viago.

He approached with a suddenness that even surprised him.“There very much is a need for it.” Hands cupped both sides of her face, craning her neck up and taking her sights away from the screen. It was an intimacy he felt entirely undeserving of but he couldn’t stop his arms from reaching for her. “Johanna can be… a lot, most of the time. But that doesn’t excuse what she said, at all. I’m so sorry.”

“You know, I always hated when people apologize for shit other people did.” Rook groaned. “Unless, of course, if what you’re actually apologizing for is you considering me a ‘two-bit hooker’ as well, when I am in fact a more expensive one. Then I’m afraid I don’t need an apology for that either. Though, I would suggest not using that word choice with other people. Not exactly the polite terminology.”

“I wouldn't say that about anyone! Including you. There’s nothing wrong with-”

”Actually, I don’t need you to reassure me about the value of the service I provide. It’s just making you sound really condescending. It would’ve been nice for you to let me know ahead of time that other people are aware that I’m involved in this, though. Including how much they do and don’t know.” There’s no way she can tell Teia about this, Viago would just pull her from the contract. Emmrich felt the guilt bubbling.

“I promise, everyone else has been led to believe Miss Ingellvar is still accompanying me for the Eluvian events. Johanna and another teacher in my department, Myrna are the only ones who knew I’d hired someone. But they don’t know who you work for.”

“Who’d you get our contact information from?” She asked.

“A friend. Old customer, from my understanding. He gave me a number to call after I explained Johanna’s…”

“Challenge?”

Emmrich breathed in deep through the nose. He wanted to deny it, but he didn’t want to lie either. Perhaps challenge wasn’t the most accurate way to describe it. Because it was true that Johanna’s taunts had goaded him into seeking someone of her background out. But unlike Johanna, Emmrich had found her implications distasteful from the beginning. Which… really only spurred him on further to commit to it before he lost his nerve at The Lighthouse.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated. And this time, Rook knew perfectly well it was coming from him. Somehow that stung worse.

A part of her felt a bit silly for expecting something different. It wasn’t like she had put a whole lot of thought into why he came to The Crows with his request and not some ‘hack actor’ as Dr. Hezzonkoss put it. The Crows were more committed to success, more discreet, and had better connections. So, perhaps subconsciously she assumed he had valued that part of her job. Respected it.

“Rook, please say something.” His voice traveled softly, felt like cotton against burns. She hadn’t realized she’d gone quiet.

“Let’s focus on the job, yeah? I’m guessing your colleague isn’t going to go around talking about where I work, right?”

“Certainly not!” Emmrich replied earnestly. No, Johanna would not be foolish enough to do that. But she would more definitely use this against him personally later. But that was an issue for whoever he was then.

Rain pattered against the window, unseen behind the shades. “Good.” Rook relaxed a little. It was still quiet in her mind. Too quiet, it made her uncomfortable. Bitterness leached from the back of her throat and strangely made her mouth taste acrid. “I should head out soon. Before it gets too quiet to sneak out.”

She stepped around him, stopping only when she felt a pressure around her elbow. Skin meeting skin and rings. Heart racing, lungs stilling, and something hummed in her skull against her will. “Don’t go.” The hold was gentle. Barely there at all. But it felt like cinder blocks dragging her under cold water. “Not yet, please.”

If they could have just a few more minutes. Clearly, she wasn’t in the mood for apologies. They wouldn’t help. But she couldn’t leave like this either. Too many things had to be said. It didn’t matter how well crafted the expression was, he could see it now. There was a hurt behind her eyes shaped like betrayal.

“I don’t know if I have the energy for staying right now. Like you said, there are circumstances to think about.”

“Yes, but not this. Not you. So much has transpired.” Emmrich’s thoughts were bounding faster than he could truly comprehend. “The very reason I sought you out, needing you for this, it’s of an incredibly sensitive nature. But this, all of this, I don’t even know where to begin with it.”

She thought to herself for a moment, lavender eyes searching for any sign of malintent, and found none. “ Let's start with what I need to know for my contract and work our way up. One thing at a time. But later. When our heads are clear enough to unpack it.” Surprisingly, Rook didn’t feel the amalgamous anger she had been trying to decipher yesterday. And this wasn’t quite sadness either. Her fingers ran across his knuckles, avoiding his jewelry in favor of following the path of his veins. “Monday. Are you going to cancel again?” And the response came immediately, stated as a fact of existence itself.

“So long as you’ll be the one there.”

Rook’s mouth upturned, more honestly this time. “Of course I’ll be there. I’m a professional.” The joke came out more somber than she meant it. Emmrich fought the urge to wrap his arms around her… He let go, letting his hand fall back to his side. Monday seemed like centuries away. But he could wait. Perhaps he needed to take the time to set everything straight too. Because he knew she was right, and being reasonable. If they were meant to figure out what was being stitched between them, and she seemed equally as unsure as him for once, then first they’d need to make the room stop spinning. He needed that.

She began stuffing her cardigan into her bag, phone still in hand and begging for her attention. Another candy came out with her hand and she sheepishly tried to hide it. Emmrich saw it anyway, choosing not to point out how she had just finished one because now he understood that better as well.

“Promise?” Rook repeated as she made her way to the door.

“I swear on my life.” After all, he hadn’t planned on cancelling after tomorrow. But he especially wouldn’t be able to now.

Emmrich wanted to follow. He found that there were a lot of things he wanted to do while around her, and he never could seem to find the right time to do so. Not yet, but maybe soon. “The roads were slippery, try to be careful on the way home.” One last glance to the room, not at him but at the windows.

Then out the door, wood thudding softly behind her. Even while in a rush, it was easy to blend into the weavings of people. A lot of times it was better to go unnoticed, not every crowd needed to be parted. If she were allowed the opportunity to lie, she’d say the frazzled rhythm she stepped to was to look like everyone else.

High tops hit linoleum, thumped on the damp entryway rug that had a mud caked scarab logo designed into it, then out onto soaked stone. The sharp inhale of cold air and droplets hitting her scalp helped to wake her back up. On the way to her car, Rook kept her head angled low to cover her phone screen. Five messages from Viago now.

‘Didn’t show up for deliveries this morning.’

‘Checked with LT, not there either.’

‘D hasn’t seen him since doing a pick up on Monday.’

‘Can’t get ahold of Jacobus either. It’s been 4 days.’

‘Call me. Now.’

He answered, not even letting it ring twice.

#emmrook #emmrich volkarin #emmrook fanfic #emmrich x rook #mojo writes #mojo checks blood sugar

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