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mandalhoerian · 1 year

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moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.

word count: 9K

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me

notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth

🌀 read on ao3!

📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!

📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!

In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.”

So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.

He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.

The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.

He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”

How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this.

You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.

You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap.

The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go.

What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance.

The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.

It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place.

Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded.

You accept him as such, love him all the same.

You’re not sure if he loves you just as much.

Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest.

What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list?

The insecurity surely is a small part of the ‘Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his.

This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all.

Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.

You take pity on him.

“I see. Alright.”

His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”

“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”

“No—wait—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying okay, Leon.”

He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”

You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?”

He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.

Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

That was the problem?

“I’m not, Leon.”

“How can you not be?”

“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”

He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me.

You don’t.

The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.

Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.

“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?”

“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.”

“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”

“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.”

You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”

You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”

“So you are angry.”

“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?”

He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face.

You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”

“Mourn?”

His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”

“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”

“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”

“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”

“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”

You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well.

The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end.

“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”

“Ah, c’mon…”

“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”

Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second.

“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”

“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”

You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.

“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”

Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it.

You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching.

“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”

“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.

“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”

He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain.

He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers.

That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing.

Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”

“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking.

He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this.

“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”

He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”

“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—”

“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”

You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”

“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…”

You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting?

“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body.

He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“

Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“

“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“

Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.

“What do you want me to say?“

“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.”

Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway.

But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”

Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“

“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”

A beat passes.

“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”

Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”

“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust.

“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”

“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless.

You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”

“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”

You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”

Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”

“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.

Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”

You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.”

It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”

“Huh?”

His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”

You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex.

He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”

You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”

The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him.

This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation.

Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly.

He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”

Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”

You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission.

Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.”

The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”

“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”

With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth.

“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”

His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.”

He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat.

The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”

“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”

It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.

More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after.

Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next.

Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked knees. “Open up for me.”

It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already.

Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.”

“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”

“It’s not that, I…”

He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?”

It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor.

Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”

“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder.

“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”

He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wanted to have you, remember?”

There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”

“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”

You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin.

“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?”

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”

“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”

Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”

“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”

It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”

Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going.

You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue.

As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening?

“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants.

You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again.

You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least.

His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”

“You want the other ear?”

His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”

“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”

“I could if you actually did something already.”

You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…

You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god.

And you’ve really barely even done anything to him.

You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general.

How further can you push?

“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will.

You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more.

He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.

You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence.

“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”

“You aren’t asking nicely enough.”

His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all.

You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…”

You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it.

“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?”

“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”

His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.

“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight.

“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.”

You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you.

Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously.

He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—

He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you.

His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this.

You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”

The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”

“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace.

“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!”

You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”

Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating.

“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”

You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark.

You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”

“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away.

And with that, you’re out like a light.

When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it.

It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.

You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming.

Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life.

You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon s. kennedy headcanons #resident evil 4 #re4 remake

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soulaires · 8 months

Text

Sweet Dreams | A.W

pairings: dad!Aaron Warner x mom!Reader

synopsis: Aaron loves his daughter, he really do. Hell, he would burn down the world for her but sometimes,, all he wanted was to spend one night alone with you—his beloved pretty wife.

warnings: interrupted sexy times, domestic life, GIRL DAD AARON WARNER LESSGOOO, comfort, nightmares, Aaron Warner is so done, reader and dior are little shits, fluff, married life, light smut obvi, it was interrupted though (literally the whole plot) not proofread …

« words: 1,607┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🏷 :: @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan @nomournersonefuneral @lilyevansstudygroup @arinexeisnotworking

Aaron Warner is a good father.

He really is, he educated himself on the risks, pros and cons, he even bought himself a book on how to take care of his pregnant wife, a beginners guide on being a father and what not.

He would like to pride himself that he knows about everything, knows how to handle when the baby cries, when the baby throws a tantrum, or when his daughter wants something and such.

but…

If there was one fact no one mentioned to Warner about being a father, it was just how quickly his sex life would evaporate.

He loves dior, he really does. She is his most beloved daughter, baby girl, light of his life, his princess, his Achilles heel (plus you, of course.) and unfortunately the bane of his existence.

he’s kidding.

but of course there are some times that he just wants an alone time with you, his beautiful wife without being interrupted by a certain little princess.

All because you drove him to madness, igniting an insatiable desire within him, awakening the hidden beast that eagerly salivated and panted in response to your lustful glances, strategically unleashed whenever the mood struck.

He would be a fool to lie and pretend you didn’t stir something inside of him, some wretched version of himself rattled the bars of its cage, akin to a hurricane relentlessly tearing through barriers to reach you whenever you allowed your sugar-sweet voice to caress his sensitive ears.

He was a slave for the love you easily gave him as if it’s the easiest thing you can ever do. How can you easily love someone like him? a hopeless man yearning for thirst and begging for a single drink, a solitary taste, as if dying of thirst and pleading at your feet.

You were his goddess, and the privilege of sharing your bed, your throne, surpassed all his wildest dreams. Simply being by your side was more than he believed he deserved, and he vividly recalled the day he first encountered you—the day you convinced him that he was truly worth something.

—

The room is awash with the silvery glow of the moon, you notice, setting a tranquil atmosphere that amusingly contradicts the feverish warmth of Aaron's caresses. His kisses trace a journey from the curve of your neck to the hollow of your navel. However, any sense of composure shatters when your husband playfully bites your right nipple, sending all rational thoughts scattering out the window.

“Ah, Aaron,” you groan after a sharp nip against your collarbone. “fuck! baby…I—we can’t—!”

“Shh, we can, love. Dior is asleep” he whispers against your ear, “just let me take care of my wife, yeah?” He said as he caressed your hair, admiring your beauty under him. “It’s just us…” he said as he chuckled and that made you shiver.

“Pretty, momma…look at you, my pretty wife.” Aaron shifts to readjust himself as he hurriedly vanishes the remaining clothes and attacks your lips and kisses you passionately and hungrily as if he has been starved for years.

“Gods—look at you, ma, pretty as life and poison, want me to put another baby on you, hm?” he said as he dragged his teeth against your chest to taste your beating heart and he then placed soft and slow kisses on your face while stroking your face with his thumb.

You draw him closer, intending for a light and sweet kiss to allow your husband to continue his gentle touches. Yet, it’s not your fault that you find yourself getting lost in the sheer perfection that is Warner.

He, in turn, envelops both of you with his hand, stirring a gentle desire for more within you and oh, dear god, you need more.

Just as you are about to open your mouth to voice out your desires for a little more, a soft, almost inaudible knock interrupts the intimate moment.

The unmistakable soft voice of your three-year-old daughter pierces through the room, calling out, “momma..? dada..?” Panic flashes between you and Aaron, and hastily, you both scramble to locate your discarded clothes.

“mommy! daddy!” yelled dior through the door as she started knocking continuously that makes you and your husband panic more. “‘s da door broken..?!”

“just a second, princess,” Aaron softly calls out, panicking when his hard-on doesn’t seem to go away. Hell.

He glances up at his wife and stares at you, baffled when he realizes that you had already put on your night gown and on your way to open the door.

“Wha—how?” he asks in disbelief. “You were literally just—”

“Don’t underestimate me.” You joked.

Aaron dismissively shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and takes a seat on the bed, discreetly covering his arousal with the white comforter just as Dior bursts into the room and enthusiastically throws herself into your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, gently rubbing comforting circles on her back. “Nightmare, love?”

"Uh-huh," Dior nods against your neck, her tears leaving your nightgown slightly damp.

you picked her up and went to the bed as dior hugged her dad, sniffing as she softly cried, “oh, darling. What happened, princess? hm?” Asked Warner as he hugged his crying daughter to his arms.

“I—hiccup t-thought monsters got you,” said dior, her green eyes filled with tears. you then pulled her into a hug.

“aw, baby, we are fine,” you said, patting her back. you brush the blonde curls out of your daughter’s eyes. “yeah, sweetheart, no monsters here.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking suspiciously around their room.

“Promise,” you replied, assuringly as you stood up to rock her to calm her down.

“We promised, sweet princess. And if there is, daddy will scare the ugly monsters away,” your husband assured her from the bed as dior starting to calm down,

“really?” she said with a shaky voice and a glassy doe eyes and you almost cried seeing her state.

Poor baby.

“I promise, Di, daddy will protect you and momma.” Aaron said sincerely as you rocked her back and forth in your arms, running your fingers through her wild curls.

Dior sniffles start to quiet down. “Mhm…,” she says. “Can I stay here?” She looks at you with puppy eyes that is impossible for you to say no so you nodded.

“Of course, princess ,” Aaron responds, quietly mourning the loss of one night with his wife, alone.

As you continue rocking Dior in your arms, attempting to lull her into a peaceful slumber, your efforts are momentarily interrupted by her sweet voice, breaking the silence of the room.

“Mommy?” Dior queries after a few minutes, perched on your lap with a wide-eyed expression. “What's wrong with daddy?”

Your gaze shifts toward Aaron, who remains sprawled face-down on the bed, emitting occasional groans and muffled whines in his attempt to compose himself for the sake of your toddler. Suppressing a grin, you find amusement in his comical efforts.

“Well, Di,” you murmur, showering light kisses on your daughter’s chubby cheeks to conceal your amusement. “I think your daddy is having a nightmare, much like the one you just experienced.”

Dior gasps in innocent concern. ”Oh no! Mommy, give daddy kisses to scare the monsters away!”

Smiling at her pure-hearted suggestion, you gently explain, “I don’t think that will help, sweet thing.” Observing Dior's face scrunch up in confusion, you swiftly add, ”You see, adults have different nightmares than kids do.”

“But kisses always help!” Dior insists with unwavering conviction.

”Well, if you insist,” you reply, giving in to her innocent plea, and share a quiet laugh at the sheer delight evident on Dior's face.

As you comply with dior’s request, you peppered kisses onto your husband’s face, eliciting a chorus of giggles from both him and Dior.

After showering Aaron with a cascade of kisses, he playfully remarks, "Mhm, daddy is okay now, but he'll be even more okay if you give daddy a kiss too."

Dior, with her eyes sparkling, responds enthusiastically, "Okay, Daddy!" She complies, peppering him with a flurry of sweet kisses as you heard Aaron giggles so you did, and in the midst of the joyous exchange, she graciously plants kisses on your face, too.

“Thank you, baby. Ready for sleep?” You asked and the response is a barely there nod.

“Love you and g’night, little missy.” You whisper, your voice sounds like a lullaby to the quiet room.

Aaron chimes in, taking on the role of the protector, “daddy will be right here, chasing away any monsters that dare to bother you, emerald.”

Dior, even in her drowsy state, manages to mumble a sleepy “luvu, daffy, momfy” before succumbing to dreams. The room, now quiet except for the soft breathing of your little one.

Your husband then looked at you and softly smiled, “I’ll chase all of your monsters away, too, love.” you softly giggled and gave him a peck.

However, as the night deepens, you feel a pair of eyes on you. Turning your attention, you find your husband, his expression akin to a kicked puppy, a playful pout adorning his features. It’s a silent plea for the solitude that eluded him tonight, a longing for those moments when it’s just the two of you.

You meet his gaze, understanding the unspoken disappointment in his eyes. As a promise of solace, you assure him with a tender look that whispers, ”Next time, it'll be just us.” you promised him.

And you were never the one who breaks promises.

So, was it really a surprise that after you fulfilled your promise you found yourself with two positive pregnancy tests?

No, not really.

📫 :: my first post in 2024 ?!?!!? Anyway this will be a series !!! Next one will be the introduction of the new addition to the family and THE question of “where does baby come from?” From baby warner. Also, if you want to be added to my taglist please do let me know!

#reader insert #shatter me series #shatter me #aaron warner x reader #riewrites 🫀#aaron warner #aaron warner x you #aaron warner anderson #aaron warner imagines #aaron warner x y/n #girl dad aaron warner #dad aaron warner #fem!reader #mom!reader #husband aaron warner #The Warner Family 🪐

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shelter-maki0 · 1 year

Text

Ever since the time travel fiasco caused by his son transformed Harry into Voldemort, he had been having strange dreams from time to time. It was a dream in which a light twinkled in the darkness. The small light that shone in the dream reminded him of the brightness of the morning star.

Harry was beginning to get back to his normal life after the disturbances. Meanwhile, there were rumors within the Ministry that the ghosts living in the Ministry of Magic were beginning to disappear. Harry is going about his daily life, paying no attention to the rumors.

One day, Harry received a request from Hermione. It was a request for a visiting professor at Hogwarts. He was asked to go to Hogwarts, which was still reeling from the death of Craig Bowker, Jr. and to encourage and mentor the students. Naturally, Harry readily agreed to the request.

As Harry began to teach as a visiting professor at Hogwarts, a new incident began to occur at Hogwarts. It was an incident in which the ghosts in the castle were disappearing day by day. In addition to his work as a visiting professor, Harry also began to investigate the case.

At that time, Harry's strange dreams were becoming more eerie by the day. The light twinkling like Venus in the darkness was getting bigger and bigger every day, and it was getting closer and closer to Harry. But even though Harry chased after the light, he never reached it, and the light and Harry were like Achilles and the tortoise.

And the dream of the light took on a familiar and unpleasant feel. The air in the dream was heavy and raw, and Harry's whole body was damp with a disgusting sweat.

And Harry already knew the feel of that dream. It was the feeling of a nightmare that had tormented Harry for years. As more and more ghosts disappeared, the phenomenon gradually turned into a poltergeist and began to affect the students in the castle.

Harry grew weary day by day as the unknown strange phenomena continued, and before he knew it, dark circles severe had formed under his eyes. The fatigue was so great that Harry's memory and consciousness sometimes skipped.

And as usual, when Harry was having nightmares and became be impatient bizarre phenomenon. Finally, Harry called out the name of the nightmare.

"Voldemort, is that you?　Why don't you just show yourself?"

Then, a familiar hissing sound rang out behind Harry's ear, caressing pass the down at his hairline.

"I've been here forever. By your side."

Harry's body was the lure, that connected the pieces of Voldemort's soul from Limbo to this world. The ghostly disappearances that were happening around Harry were caused by Voldemort through his body. It had to do with the bond between the two, which was awakened by their son's case.

The pieces of Voldemort's soul were looking for a way out of the eternal pain that Limbo brought. He then sucks the hazy souls of the dead through Harry's body, building up his strength and looking for a way to return to this world again. And that power was now becoming strong enough to affect the real world as a poltergeist.

Harry had to stop Voldemort again. There was no one else in the world who could fulfill that purpose.

Therefore, Harry decided to negotiate with Voldemort. Harry lent him his body and offered to negotiate with him to leave this world and its people untouched, on the condition that they work together to find a way to collect the souls scattered in Limbo.

During the negotiations, Harry was inside thinking about ultimately wanting Voldemort complete dead, and Voldemort was also planning to look for an opportunity to resurrect himself after collecting his soul.

The two agreed to cooperate, albeit with different agendas, and the negotiations were successful.

Harry then offered himself once again to Voldemort as a medium between Limbo and this world. To protect the wizarding world from the threat of Voldemort, Harry set off with him on a journey to explore the afterlife.

Several decades after the hero of the wizarding world disappeared without a trace, Ginny was raising her children with a single hand. The children have grown up to be fine adults, and Ginny's face has deep wrinkles that remind us of the years that have passed. From time to time, packages arrive at the Potters' house from someone who appears to be Harry, but Harry himself is still missing.

And someone's funeral. As Ginny was attending the funeral, a familiar silhouette caught her eye through the fog.

There stood her husband, who had been missing for decades. But his appearance had not changed since he vanished, and he had not aged a bit. Even more puzzling, he was accompanied by a stranger next to him.

Harry stood next to a young boy, and a tattoo with a familiar design was visible on their entwined hands. The Pale complexion skinned boy's eyes flashed red as he noticed Ginny's gaze and gave her an eerie smile.

The next moment, while Ginny blinked, the two figures were hidden in the fog that drifted over the cemetery. When Ginny walked through the fog to where they were standing, there was no one there anymore, only a chill in the air.

end

＊note "Harry's body was the lure, that connected the pieces of Voldemort's soul from Limbo to this world."

The "lure" is expressed as "呼び水" in Japanese, but I am not sure if "lure" is conveyed in the proper sense.

"呼び水" has the meaning of an inducement and a medium for inviting something. "Priming" as a better choice? I'm sorry if I didn't convey the meaning properly🙇

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blackflash9 · 4 months

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A subtle storytelling moment highlighted in the final Assassin's Creed Reflections comic and in Rogue, after the Kenway saga, is how Shay's and Connor's memories impact Otso Berg as a person. Shay's story and shift in perspective radicalize Otso, leading him to further dehumanize both himself and the Assassins, viewing them as identities that could never find common ground.

In the Reflections comic, Otso learns from Connor—not because of any duty or allegiance to the Assassins, but because of Connor's inherent goodwill as a man. Connor's love for the things and people he cherishes awakens Otso's own humanity, helping him recognize the humanity in his enemies whom he hated.

Legacy Transcript [ACIII] Achilles Davenport: "Your unwavering tenacity and honesty have burdened you with responsibility far greater than any one man should bear. But you, if anyone are capable. You have given an old man hope that all is not lost and for that I thank you." Desmond Miles: "I think spending all this time in Connor's memories has made me anxious. Mean his story is so painful in so many ways. Still, he never lost hope, even when his faith in others eroded." Even over 200 years after his death, Connor still inspired hope and change in those in life who need it.

#assassin’s creed 3 #assassin's creed #assassin's creed rogue #assassin's creed reflections #otso berg #shay cormac #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #desmond miles #achilles davenport #io:nihiote

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streets-in-paradise · 10 months

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Concealed Fighter - Hector x Wife!Reader/ Achilles x Captive!Reader

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Warnings: Manipulative woman twisting the power dynamics of captivity while her master tries to seduce her.

Summary: Reader is the wife of Hector ( they got married after he returns from Sparta) and she sacrifices herself to protect Briseis. As a captive of the greeks given to Achilles, then stolen by Agamemnon, she takes the only advantage of the situation she has to actively assume a role of destabilizing agent and wreck the enemy from the inside.

However, the life on the greek camp also leaves its effect on her putting the self assumed mission at risk when the persuation tactics turn against her due to the awakening of desire in his original captor. Achilles refuses to fight for the greeks because of her, but if he gets her back he will try anything in his power to convince her of willingly staying with him.

Tags: @thorssweetheart ( I wrote this one for you. It's not completely dark, but I mixed a bit of my tone with yours here.)

Glossary of homeric terms: Atreide - Means son of Atreus, a way to reference either Agamemnon or Menelaus.

Scaean Gate - Name of the main gate of Troy

When your father in law instructed you to follow Briseis for the religious rituals that morning, it was out of the pure intention of helping you adjust to the functions expected of royalty in your cultural context. Freshly made a princess through a blissfull marriage to his eldest son, you were starting to get comfortable in that role and wanted to impress him in order to make your husband proud. His cousin was the high priestess of the family, but that wasn't an excuse excempting you from the obligation of participating in particular occasions that were regarded traditional for any future queen. Desperate times required of commited attention to that sort of thing, but none of you imagined you would reach the bottom of desperation during the very same action.

The prayers were forever silenced with the arrival of the greeks, dreaded moment unleashing the war taking place at the worst possible timing as you were trapped in the middle of a carnage that was also an obscene act of profanity. Despite the quick reaction of the troops, the temple never stood a chance against the enemy. Myrmidon soldiers had slaughtered the priests, only Briseis and you remained alive as shocked observants in a temporal hidding place that you knew won't stand much longer.

You were a princess of Troy, the queen of Hector's future reign, and you had came to that temple under the purpose of acting as such in the first place. To show your subjects you would do anything to protect them, first you had to start saving your family.

Context demmanded you to act quick, so you came up with a risky plan that you explained to Briseis in whispers while cleaning her tears.

" I'll clear the way for you, run and find Hector. Don't waste time turning back, they will get you."

The pragmatical, almost cold sounding way in which you phrased the idea ruined her nerves even more. She didn't want to leave you behind, Briseis would never accept it no matter how logical you were trying to be.

She refused nodding negatively, too afraid to take the risk of speaking.

" Do it, there is no other way. If we stay together, then we are all doomed. There is hope for only one of us, and I rather it will be you." You insisted, attempting to give further reasons to your sacrifice that would make her feel less guilty. " They will pay for this, I promise you. "

You grabbed her arms like a wake up call before continuing.

" Briseis, I'm giving myself willingly because it's the only way to get one of us inside the camp. Do you see what they can do? Traditional means will not be enough to defeat them, someone has to discover how. "

Fear was starting to make your voice tremble as you thought of your city, your family ... your husband.

" Tell Hector, tell him I'm loyal and I'll return to him with the secret to destroy the greeks ... Tell him I love him and I will do whatever it takes to help our cause."

After a brief, emotive farewell she accepted to execute the plan according to your guidance. The distraction turned out successfull, since the soldiers rushed to take you while she sneaked under their noses given all the fuss you were making. The next thing you knew was being tied up alongside piles of stolen gold inside the recently settled tent of who you guessed was one of their captains.

The master didn't make you wait for long, finding you as a surprise of his men for him when he arrived to clean off the traces of the fight in his appearance. Strong first impressions were his thing, he was standing naked in front of you apparently careless for your presence. The spectacle didn't obtain any reaction, even when he asked for your name.

" You will pay for what you did. " Was your bitter reply inconected to the question." Hector will make you regret the day you were born. "

The grim warning made him chuckle.

" I think your prince is afraid of me, he sees there is no hope for Troy if i charge into battle. "

With one simple mock he had made you aware of everything.

" You must be Achilles … Lucky of mine, I'm being handed to the worst of the savages. "

" My well earned prize. " He confirmed while getting dressed, barely tying a long piece of black cloth arround his hips. " It was either me or Ajax, we were the ones winning the battle. I have obtained greater glory, so I got the ríght to keep you. "

" Shouldn't that be a privilege of the higher commander?" You taunted him, questioning in a poisonous tone. " … He is not going to like it."

The provokation hitted in the ríght spot to make him itch.

" Then he should have won the battle by himself. " Was his cocky reply, given while walking towards you. " … You are too precious to be given away. "

You could tell where the talk was leading, it was a complete twist of the provocative intentions into a territory you weren't allowing him to cross.

" The only priestess inside that temple ran away, i'm a married woman. "

The clarification didn't mean much to him.

" An eye for an eye. " He simplified, twirling your hair in his fingertips. " The trojan prince took Helen, so it's fair for me to take you. "

Achilles was dangerously close, sniffing the scent of your locks.

" She left her husband willingly. " You clarified on purpose. " Paris won her favors."

He caressed the side of your cheek while looking for cuts.

" After a while with me you won't want to leave. " He purred seductively, then proceeded to untie you. " … I like your perfume, it seems he pays for the expensive ones. "

" High nobility, my father is a general of Priam. " You bitterly clarified. " … And i'm married to a mighty warlord. "

You would have wanted to brag about that saying loud and clear that you were the wife of Hector. If it wouldn't be so dangerous, you would have seeked to humilliate him showing your love for your man.

" He failed to protect you, maybe he was not the right for you. " He mercilessly teased you, sitting ríght next to you. " What's your name? "

You had to give him an answer, but you were incapable of being honest. The greeks couldn't possibly know already of your marriage. Their access to news was blocked at the time of your wedding, they were planning the war while it happened.

Briseis escaped to tell the story, Hector had to be aware by then so you didn't need the greeks to bring him the news. Keeping your identity as a secret was safer and a good strategy. As a couple, your husband and you would get the upper hand working against them from outside and inside.

You gave him the very first name that occured to you, a female variation of the name of your father.

" Glauce. "

Achilles had his full attention on you, his eyes were roaming your features with interest.

" Well, Glauce. I'll take care of you better than him. Your safety is granted with me. "

It sounded like a promise, you could tell he didn't want you to fear him. Being perceived as a careless monster by you wasn't as satisfying as the fear he awakened in your countrymen.

The first impression played in your favor, he was Interested enough to seek winning your simpathy. There had to be some sort of limit to his brutality and it seemed to play out in his approach to women. Achilles preferred seduction to coercion, trusting in his looks and charm to do the trick. Softer on the surface, he would rather win you over than force himself on a tied up defensless woman.

At least in that, he was a safer bet than many others. Your chances to keep working on the reading of the greek commanders presented that very same day, when your initial guesses turned out to be truth and his promised was challenged.

Agamemnon felt insulted because his rebel soldier ignored him on purpose and didn't even consider him at the time to divide the profits. His heralds came to take you using the advantage of a distraction the king created by himself to keep Achilles away from you at the moment. They were very impressed to find out you were following them willingly.

Not only it was a matter of principles to never show weakness in front of the enemy, but you were also considering the greek King of Kings was a privileged source of information. There was no better tent to infiltrate if what you wanted was to figure out the patterns of the political relationships within the militar fractions of his army. For so, your entrance managed to exceede any expectations. The soldiers taking you there were disconcerted following your arrogant steps.

Behaviorally wise, you looked like a queen that was heading to negotiate instead of a living object being dragged from one place to the other. Agamemnon was slightly dissapointed, probably hoping the guards would have seen themselves forced to mistreat you in front of Achilles to enrage him even more. However, the visual did manage to surprise him. The taunting smirk didn't fade, only changed its target.

" Wonderfull reward … Even in disgrace her majestuosity remains intact. " He commented, praising you in a menacing tone. " … Woman fitting for a king. And since you aren't one, Achilles. I think you are not going to need her. "

It unleashed the killer beast.

In a matter of instants the whole place got surrounded by guards that Agamemnon called as soon as Achilles merely pulled out his sword, what to you was a measure against the feared quickness of his lethal strikes.

You were still smiling to yourself, thinking of how accidentally accurate the words of the mycenaean have been in what concerned you given Hector was the next king of Troy in the line of succession.

The myrmidon claimed so quickly and pridefully that your husband lost you because he wasn't strong enough to protect you, yet he couldn't keep you for one full day. Delightfully humilliating irony, even if the man missing you inside the city remained faceless to him. At that moment Achilles was measuring himself not only with Agamemnon's power, but also with the memory of the man you loved.

He wanted you to watch him murder greeks in cold blood for you, to prove his point of being the superior man that would cross límits no trojan would.

For as much as you would have loved to see enemies being sacrificed at your feet, you were Interested in something better.

Playing with their minds, taking advantage of the situation and subtly lead the discussion while making them feel in control the whole time.

" I've seen you are a gifted killer, they may have the numerical advantage but those men are trembling. " You stopped him, actually walking towards him with the courage the mycenaean soldiers lacked of. " Before you will unleash another carnage, let's revisit the situation. Shall we?"

Agamemnon was amused by your irreverence, mostly because it was being directed towards his polítical rival.

" I come from a militar family, so i'm not ignorant to the codes of war. " You kept talking as if you would be back in Troy discussing with Hector about the resolutions of the city's council. " Spoils of conquest shall be distributed equally among the warlords, but the commander chief has ríght to a bigger share. "

" Precisely what I'm reclaiming. " The mycenaean agreed. " I'm in command here. "

Unimpressed by the statement, you were ready to throw the web.

" … Considering Achilles has beheaded a monumental golden statue of Apollo. How can you both be so convinced i'm the biggest share of the treasure? You can buy at least fifteen women for that statue only. I have to admit it's flattering, your altercate implies i'm either worth for fifteen women or you greeks are terrible traders. "

The rational observation embarrased them. Achilles had putted down his sword and Agamemnon didn't have enough recovered honor to point it out.

" It's simbolical value. " He attempted to come up with a quick answer for what trully was nothing more than a battle of egos. " You are the first enemy woman in our power, captive of a war started by my brother's wife. "

" If she wouldn't have jumped on board, you would have instructed servants to charge spartan reliques in that ship so you could frame us and invade anyways. " Was your fearless comeback. " Maybe your provincial soldiers believe that, but trojans know you well. "

If they wouldn't know better, they would have feared the goddess of wisedown transfigurated in a slave was lecturing their behavior.

" Theorically, once you finish arguing over who is meant to own me the winner can do whatever he wants with me. The problem is what you should do in order to serve best your personal interest. Achilles is willing to slaugther your men to save me from you. Can you afford that, King of Kings? "

Agamemnon was frankly shocked, not even his royal advisors would have been so direct.

" Who are you? "

" That's not important, what matters here is that i'm aware of what you both want from me and why you won't get it." You cleverly deviated. "For instance, you want to force yourself on me to give your rebel soldier a lesson. I see it in your eyes, sense it in your voice. He made you feel powerless watching the beach battle from afar, so now you are taking me as payback. Fortunately, that's going to take you nowhere. "

Going back to the warrior like a caged beast pacing from one point to the other, you challenged him with the same ferocity.

" As it could be said of your attempts to present yourself as my savior. " You concluded for him. " Legends fail to acknowledge Achilles as a protector of helpless women and it's not hard to wonder why. You aren't acting out of the kindness of your heart, what you want is to keep me reliant on you in order to win my trust so I will eventually give in. "

At that point, despite it would have been wiser to keep silence, no one could have stopped you.

" Keep the sword down, i'm not spreading my legs for this. I despise you and that won't change simply because you are the less of two evils standing in front your pig of a king. "

The comparison had affected him as much as the self perceived unfair claims.

" He is not my king … and i'm not who you think I am. "

" Prove it. " You insisted. " Untill then, you are just the same to me. "

The provocation worked better than you could have expected, discovering there that what Achilles hated the most was being compared to Agamemnon. It carved over the fresh wound of the anger he was already feeling about the desestimation of his efforts in the war.

A fierce lion had turned into a meowing kitten when the master he reluctantly followed took away his slave, humilliation you wished you could have shared with your people as perfect payment for the destruction of the temple. From then, his efforts were focused on showing the greeks that he wouldn't accept being controlled while proving to you that he was the better man. The special weapon of the enemy had opted for inaction as a form of protest, refusing to fight untill Agamemnon would come back crawling expecting he would beg to him ... expecting to get you back.

Coldess of mind was your best weapon against them, their fates were already on your hands. Agamemnon was too haunted by the warning you made him to actively seek to fullfill the full punishment, since Achilles was being completely serious about his thirst for revenge and for having you. The little glimpses of yourself he managed to figure out from your brief talk and the interventions you have made in their fight weren't enough, his interest only had escalated since then.

Without him, greeks lost, and they lost badly. Hector deprived them of two leaders during the course of the same battle, one of them being the husband of Helen whose cause gathered everyone. They were running out of excuses, starting to point fingers at each other attributing blames where those didn't necesarily belong. On his part, Agamemnon saw the warning you have made him the day before becoming real and sensed something almost supernatural in it. Of course, he was completely unaware that the crushing lost was a result of his own stubborness and the team work of the heir couple of the trojan throne.

Even trojans themselves weren't completely aware that Hector and you could sometimes become your own separated fraction operating underneath the obstacles presented by the local politics. No matter what the council presided by his father would dictaminate, you would allways have his back to do what you knew was right. Even while being so far away from each other, the combination of your strikes was making the greeks bleed despite you haven't had any ocassion of discussing the course of action. You knew each other too well, in a fair world you would have been designing strategies with him in front of the army and not against their backs.

Hidding your adoration while overhearing the feats of your husband as you poured wine for the kings was your main challenge during that post battle night among the greeks. They were already discussing rendition, all thanks to the fear that he inspired. It was clear that you would have to handle yourself finding a scape way if that would happen, but you were amazed seeing your goal at the verge of fullfillment. Agamemnon recklessly kept you there as a symbol of the only victory they had achieved, showing you off to the commanders in an attempt to tempt them to stay exciting their greed. He presented you as a promise of future wealthness, if they would pass the hardships every chief would have one like you.

Odysseus was completely careless for that and trying to make the myceanean come to his senses was hard even for his audacious mind. At that hour of the night, only him and Nestor remained in the Atreide's tent and only one particular moment during his long callout catched your attention.

" Hector is ONE man ... Look at what he did to us today! "

You were forced to hide your flusterred smile full of pride for your man and you did through a humble gesture bowing the head.

They kept arguing for a while, two against the stubborness of one.

" Even if I could make peace with Achilles, the man won't listen to me! " Agamemnon reminded them with frustration, the wine you were serving him non stop starting to hit him. " He is as likely to SPEAR ME as to SPEAK TO ME! "

You chuckled briefly and Nestor noticed it while awaiting or Odysseus' resolution.

" ... I will talk to him. "

Once that part got resolved, the old king reminded them of you.

" He will want her back."

The mention gave you a proper space for according intromission.

" I will pack my things ... I mean, just the blue dress I was wearing when you kidnapped me. " You mordaciously commented. " Can I change back into it or your plan is to send me looking like this hoping I would have the kindness of whoring myself to save you? "

The taunting ask pointed at the uncomfortable suggestive dressing the king forced you to wear for his visits.

" I haven't touched her! " Agamemnon excused himself to his friends. " Take her back to him or I will give her to the men, the whore is cursed and I will not take the risk. "

He refused to explain further, but you did for him.

" His brother made a curious joke last night when we meet. He said that it would be his right to go first because he was the one that trojans had ofended, now he is dead ... And how about Ajax? He was the second in line who could have got me as reward, if the glory of Achilles wouldn't have outshined him. I think Apollo is using me to pick the victims of Hector, maybe desecrating the temple of a god we both worship wasn't a brilliant idea after all. "

The macabre warnings upsetted the myceanean king.

" Take her now, Odysseus. If he wants her still, she is all his. "

The king of Ithaca didn't wait any longer, instructing you to only pick up your dress and put on a cloak he handled you in order to comfortably follow him to the tents of the myrmidons.

As soon as you were out of sight the tries on guessing you began.

"These are not virgin robes. " He cassually commented about the clothes you were carrying. " It means you are not a priestess, so what were you doing that morning in the temple? "

" Pouring thracian wine to the priests. " You sarcastically mocked him. " Isn't a bit obvious I was witnessing a religious ceremony? "

" Obligation of female royals in times of war, women are commaned to pray while the men prepare to fight. " He quickly replicated. " Wives of royalty preach with the example. "

You stopped walking right away.

" What has given me away? "

" Your smile, the way your eyes shine with pride when we talk of Hector. It's true that any trojan gets excited hearing of him, but you don't look like one more of the people who worships him as the city's hero. " He began to explain you. " The eyes of Penelope shine the same way when I tell her my stories after coming back home from a long journey. "

The melancholic husband couldn't be forgiving you out of the kindness of his heart and a mere parallel with his wife.

" Why aren't you warning them? "

" Because I know Agamemnon wouldn't have agreed to return you and right now, all we need is to have Achilles back." Was his simple reason. " If you want my honest advice, girl? Your husband should have came with a ransom by now. He hasn't, and to me it feels he is letting you go because he can't stand the shame. Even if he does love you and would rather have you by his side, the city may have resolved it that way. The heir prince, the bastion of Troy ... he can't come back home with a marked woman. "

He was good, doing an excellent job at sowing doubts.

" Your stance here has stained you, people would look at you wondering how many greek generals had laid their hands on you. Even when we know that no one has touched you, they will never believe it back in Troy and Priam's dinasty is in crisis. It would be easier and politically safer for him to arrange a new marriage for Hector."

" The same king that's sending him to fight so Paris can keep his wife won't do that to me. " You snarked back, clinging to what were your certainties. " They may be religious hypocrites, but I know my people better than you. "

" Adjust to your new life, princess. " He grimly warned you. " The prince may never come to save you and the myrmidons could use a clever girl keeping their hot headed mess of a leader grounded. "

You spat on the ground, right at the side of his feet.

" He will rot in his tent and Hector will set your ships on fire to rescue me. "

A young lad gave you the welcome, warning your master of the arrival.

Achilles smiled at you, but responded to Odysseus with the same carelessness he had dedicated to Agamemnon days before.

" Whatever you have to say can wait untill the morning." He told him in a cold tone. " I want to speak with her ... alone. "

Not wanting to make a fuss that could ruin the mission, the ithacan king acceded to his demmand.

" Understandable, I will be ouside with Patroclus so the walk won't be in vain. " He mocked him. "I could use a drink now, and hear some positivity. The last time I was in Phtia I have seen your cousin is great at that. "

The young man chuckled and accompanied him outside, presumably for a chat arround the campfire of the night watchers. Before they left, Achilles ordered him dinner would be served to you and he called two other myrmidons to arrange it.

You didn't seem mistreated and that was encouraging for him, so he gesturally invited you to sit in front of him and served you by himself.

" Eat."

" Mind to tell me the reason for this? " You cutted off his attempt of soft approach. " Agamemnon didn't touch me, I think it's fair to say he is slightly afraid of me. You don't have wounds to tend, no need to fake kindness."

" I'm just trying to be a decent host." Was his vague reply. " You are my guest tonight."

" Odysseus was your guest, and you had kicked him out. I'm your prisoner. " You reminded him. " I had enough of your games, Achilles."

" Such a shame, I'm very into yours. " He teased you. " What do you think of all of this? One day has passed and they already brought you back to me. I'm feeling destiny playing a move here. "

You began to eat so you wouldn't have to reply him right away.

" Why do you care ? I'm a nobody. "

" You are not under the orders of Agamemnon, you are the onlyone besides from me with the courage to stand up against him. "

The facts were conveniently twisted and you knew of that.

" I also stood up to you. "

" And i don't forget that. " He corrected you. " ... Trust me, I had plenty of time alone to think about you."

The provocation was not going to disarm you.

" I believe it shows how desperate they are, and that you would be a fool if you stop now. The mycenaean king is not at your feet yet, he stil sends heralds to make his apologies. Make them wait some more, it will give us time to get to know each other."

He smirked and you couldn't tell which part of the answer made it.

" You are good, diligent little snake. It almost makes me want to take the advice just to see how far you can go to keep me away from your husband. "

He offered you a goblet to drink, making it reach your mouth with the movement of his hand so he could have an excuse to stare at your lips during the first sip.

" Why trying so hard? Have you considered he could be dead by now? "

" He is the kind of man you find once in a lifetime, I would remain loyal to him even after death simply because he worths it. " You explained him. " I don't expect you to understand it, your world is seducing war captives. Maybe you have never thought of that, having a wife to love for the rest of your life. Form a family, somewhere to belong in."

Your blow hitted, even when he won't admit it and opted for strike another one.

" Is he alone with the children now? "

" We didn't get time for that, he was part of the crew that travelled to Sparta and we got married once he came back." You vaguely admitted, being carefull of not giving any revealing clue. " It was the happiest moment of my life, even despite we knew what was coming. The city was cheerfull for a while right before all of this got to happen, our wedding party was the last time. "

For an instant he took the effort of imagining you on your wedding dress heading inside the temple of Hera. He had no idea of how trojan weddings were like, neither knew their fashion trends for brides, so he pictured it the greek way.

Lucky of the man that got to experience that. To remove your veil and find a smiling face at the other side, to kiss your lips ... To find you laying naked on the thalamus knowing you were waiting for him after the maidens holding torches guided you inside to be beautified for him. Asian scents flooding the air, your body of trembling virgin craving to be explored.

" I have been in Sparta, if he was a guest of Menelaus let me tell you that he cheated on you. " He interrupted you out of spite. " The hipocrite that reclaimed his cheater wife actually encourages it on the men visiting him and the dancers of his palace perform amatory wonders. "

A challenging smirk showed how little you cared for his disruptive opinion.

" My man is not like that. He would NEVER cheat on me. "

He chuckled with skepticism and you wished you could have smacked him.

" How sweet! You really are convinced he is different. "

It enerved you to the core.

" You don't know him like i do."

He was enjoying your rage, even when directed against him.

" You don't know Sparta like I do. "

You wanted to him to spite him for real.

" My husband is a hundred times the man you will never be. "

The peak of the altercate was something you wouldn't expected he would dare to say.

" Your husband will never touch you like i would."

Angry as you were, you lost control and slapped him. Fear of his reaction made you back off inmediately: it was the first moment of weakness he had ever witnessed from you.

" You are fierce, I like that. " He commented, careless for the hit. " Was he really that good? Or is it just that you can't compare? "

" You will never compare to him. " Was your quick comeback. " From no point of observation, he is simply the best. "

Even when he didn't know who the mysterious man was, he already hated him. Achilles was genuinely jealous of your love for him, he would have killed for someone like that.

To calm the hostile enviroment he decided to torture himself making you talk more.

" Really? Tell me about him … How did you meet? "

" Our parents are best friends, so we have known each other for a lifetime." You began to narrate. " I think I realized I had a crush on him when I was ten and it followed me all my life. As a young lass I used to believe I could never be the one, wasted so many years thinking he could only want me as a friend. He would never make a move, thinking that was not what I desired for the same reason and we kept each other single untill an unreasonable age. Then, a suitor with great chances of success came to the city soliciting to marry me and the situation forced us to be honest with our feelings. He came to my home with a huge treasure as dowry, told me he couldn't live without me, and kissed me in front of everyone. If you would know him, you would understand that was a huge gesture coming from him. He is a private man in terms of affection displays … "

" The term you are looking for is repressed. " Achilles mocked you. " Why making you wait for so long? "

" These are dangerous political times we are living in and you greeks aren't our only enemies. " You corrected him. " He was always fighting, life was too bussy to think of romance. "

" … And it seems like that hasn't changed. " He added before taking a long sip of his wine, then keep questioning. " How do you deal with it? How would you receive him when he just came back from battle? "

It was a strange ask,but for once you didn't mind indulging him.

" With a warm bath and all my love … Although I must clarify we haven't live wartimes as a married couple yet, since you kidnapped me at the start of one. If I was back in Troy with him, as I desire, that's what I would do. "

There was no intention of playing with him, you were telling the truth because you were starting to feel comfortable and he realized of that.

It only made him more envíous.

" Lovely, so lovely. " He whispered, talking to you but sounding as if he was talking to himself. " My tent isn't as big as Agamemnon's, so you must be aware your only option tonight is sleeping by my side. Why don't you start by taking off that ugly cloak, now that we are more relaxed ? "

If that was what he wanted, you were going to give him a taste of his own poison.

" I must warn you: the old pig dressed me to his taste. " You answered as you stood up to remove the long cloth. " What do you think? Do I look like one of those girls you claim my husband has cheated with prior to the wedding? "

Achilles watched you in silence for an instant.

" Way better. " He concluded, then gifted you a smirk.

You were ready to hear whatever lustfull comment that would occure to him, but that wasn't what he ended up delivering.

" I don't want a concubine, I want that trojan's wife. She sounds wonderfull, and looks wonderfull in her cute blue dress. "

Surprisingly sweet, it trully caught you out of guard.

" You are out of your mind, or have drank too much and it got to your head. In either case, you need to rest so the morning will bring you clarity of thought. "

His teasing became a bit childish.

" Come with me … "

You couldn't take him seriously.

" Let me interrupt your little fantasy: i still love my husband and you are keeping me prisoner. "

" Not if i make you want to stay. " He replicated ríght away. " Paris got Helen to leave hers and their kingdom for him. "

You couldn't believe your ears. Was he really that much starved for affection? The greatest warrior of the greeks was a lonely man, a living weapon.

" That's never going to happen between us. "

After you concluded the meal he gave you proper space to change your clothes in privacy, courtesy that satisfied you given what was about to come. Once he settled the furrs on the ground to make the closest thing to a bed available in the camp, he picked a blanket and invited you to get confortable first. In the meantime, he took off his footwear and upper garments in front of you. The spectacle made you turn over to the opposite side, deviating your eyes from him completely, but that simple act of resistance didn't mean much compared with what he was about to do.

Achilles grabbed you from behind, trapping you in an embrace too íntimate for your taste. His strong arm was rou nding your waist, initially ríght under your chest. You were perfectly able to feel his firm muscles in contact with your back and the hand keeping you secure in the position he wanted started tracing your curves.

You wanted to yelp, but it was pointless. What else could you do? You were his slave, and sleeping anywhere else in the camp was even riskier.

Maybe other man finding you wouldn't be as sweet as him. Peraphs you would encounter a beast forcing you to fight for your honor.

" So beautifull. " He whispered close to your ear. " Feels really good to me … How are you feeling? "

" Strange. " You confessed. " It just doesn't feel ríght. "

" It doesn't have to. " He teased you. " It just has to feel good. "

He began to kiss the side of your neck, but kept stumbling with your cold reactions. To him it was all performance, you were holding back to feel a faithful wife for a man that from then would be just a memory because you would most likely never see him again.

" You are mine now … " He reminded you in a husky tone. " Stop pretending, I know you feel good. No need to hide it. "

You weren't giving in, but he was willing to take the challenge. Distracted as he was with you, he kept the refusal to fight still on given that his pride wasn't completely avenged and that was at least hopefull result of your sacrifice. Every single night he would try to tempt you, but you remained strong deviating the seduction tactics into night talks with no sort of filter on both sides. He would ask you all kinds of innapropiate questions, but in response he would have to tell you more about him than what he could afford to tell any enemy.

The mission became harder and harder to mantain over the course of the days. You were happy to be serving your country but wondering if the cost was actually worthy. Achilles seemed determinated to keep you, he wanted to destroy your marriage and there were moments when you wondered if he haven't already done it.

Would the love of your life want you back, knowing you were forced to share the bed of the enemy? Even if your strong resistance kept things away of sexual territory, you had to stand his caressing, his kissing … and sometimes you weren't completely disgusted by it.

It was confusing, you were the one playing with a man who fooloshly believed to have power over you, but you also felt played by the situation. Staying focused was hard when everything seemed to point out Odysseus was in the ríght. There were no signs of your people, of your husband, wanting to reach you. Could have he forgot you? Have the city gave up on you?

One particularly long night you were sitting on the shore watching the sea and the fear became so strong that you began to sob uncontrollably. Achilles wasn't coming for you yet, since in his tent more embassors of Agamemnon were trying to convince him of returning to the battlefield.

Suddenly, a myrmidon in full armor sat beside you. The helmet was on, so you couldn't see his face, but you guessed he was one of the guards of the night shift.

" Beautifull night, isn't it? " He said in a familiar voice. " Perfect for a sneakout … "

You couldn't believe your ears.

" Paris? " You questioned in whispers soft enough to not be heard by anyone else, but showing clear excitement. " How did you got here? Brother, you can't fight even to save your life. Is a miracle you are still alive. "

" I may be a terrible fighter, but i'm a master in the art of sneaking into the most unbelievable places. " He explained you. " Glaucus is so desperate that he didn't present objections to the plan, your father trully adores you. "

You wanted to hug him, but that would have been too suspicious.

" You are insane! What if they discover you? "

" I have that covered. I'm trying to redeem myself at the eyes of our people, but if the worst happens i'm going to do what i know best: cry to my brother for salvation. "

A hopefull smile made your sadness fade.

" Hector, … Is he with you? "

" Of course he is! Who else would have faith in my stupid plans?" Paris mocked himself. " He loves you soo much. He has been loosing his mind since the first day without you, but presenting a ransom to the greeks was a risk. From the moment they would be aware you are his wife, it would be over. They would have refused to return you and submitted you to all kinds of humilliations. No, with them you always have to do things by force. "

He made you chuckle.

" Any idea of how are we going to escape? "

" Working on it, just act natural and follow me. "

Your heart beated fast the whole way, since you were the one guiding Paris using your greater knowledge of the camp's structure. The myrmidons were ubicated at one extreme, what made things somewhat easier, as the naturalization of your presence there did.

A man in a mycenaean armor awaited for you, his eyes were giving him away.

" Don't, not yet. " Hector warned you, since he could read your uncontrollable excitement to the sight of him. " Danger hasn't passed. Proper welcomes should be postponed untill we are safe. "

You still dared to express a bit of your lovefull gratitude.

" I knew it! I knew you would come, I never wanted to stop believing! "

" Have they tried to convince you of that? " He wondered out loud. " I knew it had to be you causing division among them since the very first time the myrmidons didn't show up and I couldn't be prouder. "

Passing through the Scaean Gate was living again, you were at home. As soon as the walls were sheltering you Hector held you in his arms and kissed you untill both of you were feeling breathless. The wonderfull moment felt to you like a renewal of your vows, he had the same surprising lack of decorum he showed the day he asked for your hand. Instead of your happyly shocked family, his brother and some trojan soldiers were the ones left to witness it.

He would never stop amazing you, the insightfull understanding of what you have gone through that your husband was showing since your first instants of rencounter made you love him even more. Hector new that you didn't want to present yourself to your parents looking and feeling like a captive, they wanted their daughter back and you wanted to be her again.

Before presenting yourself in public, you needed to feel like yourself. To get back the identity your captors tried to strip you from. It was most likely that the citizens would overwhelm you with questions, the militar council wanting to extract every single drop of information about the greek camp that you had adquired and all of that was very important, but he cared about you the most.

Putting the princess and the spy aside, he wanted to trully reunite with his wife and help her heal before the weight of the city would fall upon her. Some of the servants of your household were awakened for the ocassion and they welcomed you quietly under the prince's recommedation of not disturbing you. They helped Hector out of what was left of his disguise and he returned to his cassual wearing for home.

Once he looked like your husband again, he turned back to face you with an adorable smile.

" Welcome home, my love. For the sacrifice you have endured it is my wish to make of what's left from this night a moment to comfort you in any and every way you desire. If you don't want to talk about the horrors, I'm willing to wait. "

" I want a bath, I stink of sand and greeks. " You joked to attenuate the tone of he conversation. " Is this how you feel after fighting? "

He chuckled a bit, taking your light talk as a good sign.

" You were a concealed fighter, peraphs the most important fighter in this war. " He lovefully praised you. " It takes courage and a great speed for decision making to come up with such insane attack strategy. You cleverly realized there was no chance for two women to get away from the temple and offered yourself to save my cousin. When we found her, she repeated me the last words you told her. Your wisedown surpasses our war council, you knew from the beggining what I'm trying to make them understand. "

" Well, I knew that as a slave girl I was going to get underestimated, but it worked even better than what I guessed. Greeks are surprisingly trustfull of their war prizes or think themselves too high for vengeances to reach them " You humbly admitted. " In me they saw an object to move from one point to the other, but never suspected they could be touring a spy arround. I poured wine for the kings while they were discussing their plans, Agamemnon found no danger in that because he considered me to be merely decorative. "

" Sounds like the riskier war feat I have ever heard of. " He added, then caressed your cheeks as he inspected your face for any signs of damage. " It seems like they trully thought they were going to enjoy of my wife's beauty for long. I can tell they were carefull. "

" They were too bussy fighting each other over who was going to keep me to ask me important questions of any kind. " You revelaed him with amusement. " Only Odysseus discovered it, but he got there too late. Achilles was already eating out of my palm."

The confession surprised him.

" Meaning you have targeted him all this time? "

" He is rabidly jealous of you." You confessed, teasing him. " I discovered that the main obstacle of Agamemnon is his fail to make him act according to his goals. His attempts to manipulate him are rational, but Achilles can only be persuaded irrationaly. "

The start of your tale wasn't worrying him the way you feared.

" Nothing really happened between us. " You rushed to clarify, since he wasn't asking. " He wanted it to happen, but i made him very aware that my husband was in my mind and heart the whole time. "

Your desperation for proving yourself to him was heartwrecking, he could tell you were so full of guilt over a situation that wasn't trully in your control. Even if you played to be, the course of action was limited to the grey zones where the control of men was weaker.

" You were loyal to my vision to the last consequencies, despite you had no guarantee of safety. " He cutted you off. " Many of the men I command claim that they would die for me, but what you did goes beyond their will of sacrifice. This is the greatest proof of love to me and to Troy. "

Tears were falling down your cheeks and he instinctively held you in his arms, as if he feared you would wreck if he didn't.

" What you did to survive is not of my concern, you are here with me now. " He reassured you, making you smile. " But if someone got to hurt you, the bastard responsible for that damage won't see the sun again."

" I think i never saw you making threats like that. " You sweetly mocked him. " It's flattering, but turns out you have been protecting me against it from afar. The two greek leaders you slaughtered a few days back ? Ajax was the second in the line of possible adquisitors for me, Menelaus threatened with taking me to satisfy his hurted honor and died the next day. "

The strange coincidence amazed him.

" I'm always with you, even if this crazy world we live in takes us apart. "

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