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heavenbarnes · 4 months

Text

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x reader fic #challengers fic #art donaldson fic #challengers smut #art donaldson x fem reader #art donaldson x fem!reader

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 7 months

Text

Terry Pratchett about fantasy ❤

Terry Pratchett interview in The Onion, 1995 (x)

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Terry: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

Terry: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

Terry: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus.

Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.

#terry pratchett #interview #terry interview #fantasy #terry on fantasy #fun fact #<3 #the onion

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captainfantasticalright · 6 months

Text

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fun facts #the colour of magic #the colour of pratchett #space voyager magazine

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 month

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secret baby trope with tf141? 😌😌

Anon! OH. MY. GOOOOOD. I love this. I love this. I love this. Secret baby? Yes, please. I adore this trope. I bow down to you for requesting this. I don't know who you are but I wish that I did. I can absolutely get behind a secret baby trope. I actually read a book recently that was a bit like that and I enjoyed it so so much.

I had an absolute blast putting this one together. Seriously. You totally indulged me here. Thank you!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, stalking, possessive behavior, second chances, pregnancy / unplanned pregnancy, parenthood, reunions, light angst

Word Count: 2.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle relaxes further into the couch. The air around him is slightly smoky.

He brings his vape to his lips and takes a hit. The action is calming, and that’s exactly what he wants. Kyle is rotting, and it feels fucking good.

Between missions, Kyle is always somewhere, but right not there is no reason for him to do anything. He can relax. He can watch reality television, eat himself to sickness, and wank off until his wrist hurts.

It’s bloody fucking brilliant.

Kyle isn’t attached. He has no kids. The only responsibility required of him is the one he has to himself. Which is why he’s splayed out on the couch in nothing but grey sweatpants and his vape. The television is on, and the volume is low. It’s mostly for background noise. Kyle isn’t really paying attention to it.

With a vape in one hand and his phone in the other, Kyle scrolls through his contacts. There are all the usual people there, but there are also a slew of general acquaintances and a long list of people he’s had it off with but never took anything further.

He pauses at one name, and old memories resurface.

They just happen upon him. Kyle doesn’t drag them up from the depths. They linger there, and Kyle remembers all the fun he had with you.

You were just a small fling. A few lengthy but deliciously good fucks that tops most of the sex he’s ever had in his life. There have been times since he last saw you—over a year now—that Kyle has thought about what could have been.

You were sweet. A potential partner. But Kyle didn’t follow through. He would regret it, but things can’t be taken back. There is no turning back the clock to change what has already occurred.

Kyle’s thumb hovers above the screen.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But he does. Because why not?

Switching over apps, Kyle starts scrolling social media. He doesn’t usually give a shit about what’s happening in people’s lives, but he is curious about you. What are you up to? What are you doing? If you’re not attached, maybe he could call you up, rekindle what was once there.

You don’t have him blocked on anything—thank fuck—and Kyle delves into your socials, exploring your life. At first, the small infant in your arms is nothing to him, but then the tiny human keeps reappearing, and Kyle pauses.

Kyle scrolls a bit more. And stops.

Just three—no—four months ago, there are a slew of friends and family congratulating you on the birth of your son.

Your…son.

Kyle thinks back. Does the math in his head.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sitting up, gaze glued on the screen.

He scrolls back, studying every photo where your son is featured. Kyle’s heart slams in his chest. The features Kyle sees are features he sees every time he looks in the mirror.

“Fucking hell,” groans Kyle, the phone nearly slipping from his hands as he slumps back against the couch.

Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you contact him?

The very thought of you not reaching out doesn’t sit well with him. It sits heavy in his stomach.

“Fuck,” says Kyle, switching over to his contacts.

He finds Simon’s number and taps the call button.

It rings on the other end, and Kyle doesn’t think that he’ll answer. But he does.

“Kyle,” comes Simon’s gruff voice.

Kyle sighs. “I need you to track someone down for me.”

John Price

John doesn’t like cutting off contact with people.

He likes to keep in touch, even if it’s just an acquaintance. But things happen, like a fucked phone with no way to retrieve contacts, and the only people he’s able to retrieve are those he sees on a regular basis.

Your number is gone. And John has no way to get it back.

Legally that is. He could try and find you in the system. What information he has is minimal, but then again, the two of you only had a one-night stand. He’s prone to it since he’s never in one place. Always moving around.

John would like to settle down one day, but his work is his life, and it just doesn’t seem possible to have a family and be consistent with them when he’s constantly called away.

He chews it over while sitting in his office. It’s late, and there isn’t anyone else here but him. Late nights like this are calming to him—a time to process away from the events of the day. John has your first name, where you might live, and a general idea of what your number is. But he isn’t certain, and it’s hardly enough to go on.

Sighing, deciding he’d rather find you than not, John turns on his computer. It takes a while to get the classified systems he has access to. No one tracks what he does on here, and no one will think twice if they do happen to look. John runs lots of names and faces through this system.

John waits. Ponders. Enters in different spellings and every possible clue to try and seek you out. With every new search, John begins to lose hope. He might be completely fucked. Completely at a loss.

If this doesn’t work, he might not ever see you again. And for some goddamn reason, that bothers him.

He tries one last time, expecting nothing, only for his heart to drop into his stomach,

“There you are,” he murmurs, leaning forward, gaze sweeping over your passport photo.

Grabbing a piece of paper, John jots down your phone number and current address. He also notes your top place of employment. You might not be there anymore, but that isn’t an issue. He has enough.

John shuts off his computer and grabs his coat. He’ll try to reach out first by phone and go from there.

“You have the wrong number, bud.”

The man’s southern drawl irks John. “You sure?”

“Yeah I’m fucking sure. Quit calling.”

John frowns as the line goes dead. The number on file isn’t recent.

“Fuck,” mutters John, running his hand through his hair.

This is getting him nowhere. The only other option is showing up at your home or place of employment, but he can’t do that unless he’s on scheduled leave. That’s months away.

And each month is fucking agony.

When John finally makes it to your front door, nervousness sets in. This is completely fucking weird. Who the fuck shows up at someone’s door months after a one-night stand? Him apparently.

But fuck it. He’s here.

Either he does this and things go great, or things go to shit and he doesn’t need to worry about it anymore.

John takes a deep breath, and then pounds on the door. He takes a step back, hands in his pockets as he waits. There is a stretch of silence, and then he hears it—the turn of a deadbolt.

The door swings open, and there you are, just as beautiful from when he first saw you. At first, your brow scrunches in confusion, and then your eyes widen.

“John,” you breathe.

He smiles, and then his gaze drops as your hand moves away from the doorknob to land on your stomach. Your belly is round. Protruding. You’re—oh shit.

“Is that—”

“Yours?”

Fuck.

John glances up into your eyes and swallows.

You shift on your feet, one hand resting against the doorframe.

“It is,” you confirm.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shouldn’t. Really—it’s fucked up. Wrong.

But he does it anyway because there is no fucking way he’s letting you go even if he has to watch from afar.

He’s done a lot of things he isn’t proud of, and losing you is near the top of the list. Not that he blames you for breaking it off. You had every right. Simon is always gone. Always away. And he rarely thought of you when he came home.

Communication can be a difficult thing for him. He knows this, and yet he couldn’t make an effort to do better with you. It wounds him. It does. Like a sharp blade to the gut.

But that is secondary now. Simon has dismissed it.

Sure, you’re not truly his now, but you’ll come back to him. He’ll make sure of it.

In the dark, Simon watches. Before him is a slew of screens and all of them show different angles of your home. Simon also has your phone tapped, and in another window, he can lurk through your messages and emails.

It’s where he first learned you were pregnant.

You know, and haven’t told him. Haven’t reached out in the slightest. Simon has to see all the results and tests come back via your email. He has to log into your medical portal to access specific things which is goddamn frustrating but he needs to know.

You are fucking pregnant. With his child.

It’s growing in your belly.

Even through the camera feed, Simon can see the swell of your stomach. He wants to be there, to stand beside you, and rest his hand against it. He wants to feel his son kick. Because you are carrying his son in your belly. Simon saw the results.

It’s fucking painful watching you like this.

He’s stayed away for a bit. Not engaging.

But you’ve broken it off before, and came back eventually.

Simon just needs an in again. All he has to do is figure it out, and then he can put away these fucking screens and surveillance. He can be by your side and be there when you give birth.

Leaning back in his chair, Simon observes every screen, his palm rubbing against his thigh as he considered his options.

He has to play this right.

He has to.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Do you think you’ll ever find your woman again?”

Johnny grins behind his pint glass. “If she’s here,” he replies.

The beer is perfectly cold and goes down easily. It’s refreshing since it’s so bloody hot outside.

Johnny didn’t think he’d ever come back to the little seaside town. He came between missions—a way to relax and get away for a bit. With only a few hundred residents, it seemed like the perfect place. What he didn’t expect was to meet a woman that upended his fatigue and made him glow a little brighter.

He learned your name while exploring a local pub. You were a pretty thing. Caught Johnny’s eye immediately. With several beers fueling him, Johnny struck up a conversation, and you were receptive to his charm—melting like butter over fresh toast.

That evening, the two of you jumped from pub to pub, having a bloody good time. It was fucking magical. Afterward, the two of you ventured back to Johnny’s hotel room. But the two of you didn’t have sex. It wasn’t until the next morning that Johnny actually fucked you.

Johnny had presented himself, you slid right into his arms. The hotel bed was well-used. There wasn’t a moment after that Johnny didn’t have his dick inside you. He kept you full and screaming his name for an entire fucking week.

But when that week was up, the two of you parted ways. You gave Johnny your number, and for a couple months, you were consistent in your texts and phone calls. Then it all changed, and you began to contact him less frequently.

Eventually, you didn’t talk to Johnny at all.

He was hurt at first. He tried to reach out. But Johnny didn’t hear a thing—and he left you to it. Maybe someone else arrived into your life. Johnny can respect that even if he doesn’t exactly like it.

It sucked then. And it still pains him a bit now. Johnny liked you when you left—and if he’s being entirely honest with himself—he still fucking likes you.

Maybe you’ll be here. Maybe you won’t.

Kyle is with him this time. A guy’s trip. Price isn’t one for vacations, and Simon has his own shit going on.

“We could try that pub again,” suggests Kyle. “See if she’s there.”

Johnny shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Did she live here?” asks Kyle.

Johnny nods. “Aye. Sure did.”

Kyle bobs his head. “We’ll find her.”

The two of them sit outside a small pub. The air is laced with salt from the ocean, and the sun is out, shining bright. It’s hot, but it’s a beautiful fucking day.

Johnny hums in agreement, bringing his pint glass back to his lips. For a moment, Johnny glances away from Kyle, looking out across the road where people walk along the pavement. He frowns.

Is that?

No. Can’t be.

His focus becomes a tunnel, and all he can see is the woman across the road. It’s you. There is no doubt. He knows that body, that hair and smile. You haven’t changed all that much. Not really.

There is another woman with you—a friend that Johnny met briefly before you and him went off on your own.

But that isn’t what has Johnny’s attention.

You’ve turned, and Johnny can see a swell to your stomach. Your hand cradles it affectionately.

“What is it?” asks Kyle, but his voice is distant.

“That’s her,” murmurs Johnny, his pint glass lowering back to the table.

You don’t see him. You’re chatting with your friend, features animated. The curve in your stomach is fairly large, and a deep twisting in his stomach arises, moving toward his throat.

“Oh fuck,” says Johnny as Kyle shifts to look in the direction Johnny is staring.

“Is that?”

“It fucking is.”

“She’s fucking pregnant.”

Johnny swallows. “Aye.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s likely the fucking truth. The baby is probably his. No wonder you stopped talking to him. Maybe you thought it best to cut off contact when you found out.

But that doesn’t sit right with him either. If you had told him, Johnny could have been there for you sooner—not finding out like this.

You throw your head back and laugh, playfully hitting your friend’s arm as she says something funny. When you wipe at your face, clearing tears, your gaze shifts, and all the humor leaves your face.

You’re staring right at Johnny.

And he’s staring back.

taglist:

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@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

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katsukistofu · 3 months

Text

i a-door you

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. fluff. cursing. food. minor unintentional violence. ⭑ bakugo hits on you. literally.

You’re minding your business, book bag slung across your shoulder, and about to walk through the door to 2A’s classroom when something smacks you in the face.

Not only unprompted, but hard.

“Ow!”

It happens so quickly that you don’t remember squeezing your eyes shut as you stumble backwards, both hands flying to clutch your forehead.

Opening your eyes, you swear you can already feel the spot starting to bruise. The previously closed door to the classroom stood ajar and as the cherry on top of the concussion you just received, someone roughly brushes past you.

Fucking asshole.

You whip around, head still throbbing, about to give whoever it is a peace of your mind and finally speak above an inside voice for the first time since a robot almost fell on you during entrance exams semesters ago, when your teary eyes are met with crimson red ones.

He turns his head to give you a once over and your body freezes as his eyes linger a little longer on the darkening mark where the door got you. Something similar to amusement tugs at his lips.

“Pretty cute.”

You blink, dumbfounded as he casually turns on his heel to walk away.

What. The hell.

Did you literally just get hit on by Bakugo freaking Katsuki.

The identical dropped jaws of your classmates that were visible from inside the open doorway confirmed that what just happened was not in fact a post-traumatic induced hallucination, with Midoriya looking the most gobsmacked, his eyes almost comically bulging out of his skull, and upon glancing at Mina, who quickly gets over her initial shock to grin and shoot you a double thumbs up, she excitedly mouths ‘i told you so,’ and you’re not sure whether to laugh or to cry.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀:¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . ꔫ

The next day, you’re sporting a fresh, new bandaid on your forehead. It was quite a fashion statement, if you do say so yourself.

It was also the last one at the nurse’s so you were pretty happy to nab it, apparently being the brand that everyone chose when they too got their respective boo-boos.

The latte Mina and the girls brought back from your favorite cafe sat on the wooden coffee table in the common area, still steaming. You refused to go out with a huge bruise marring your appearance, even with the bandaid covering the most of it, and you would take the fullest advantage of the injured person princess treatment while it lasted.

All while awkwardly avoiding a certain blond.

Now that you’re thinking about it, he’s honestly always been kind of nice to you, in his own weird way.

Like when you were forced to ask if you could borrow his eraser, because apparently no one else in the class carried one. Imagine saving Japan your first year of highschool and only writing in pen, even for calculus. Is this what the future generation has come to?

After breathlessly rushing the words out in a hushed voice and wondering if he heard you at all, Bakugo doesn’t even turn around from where he’s resting his chin on his hand listening to Present Mic’s enthusiastic lecture on subject-verb agreement, as he reaches an arm behind him to drop it on your desk.

You’re not sure if you remembered to say “your” before “eraser,” so all he probably heard was “can I borrow eraser?” and it still haunts you to this day.

Shaking the thoughts of him from your mind, you flip your history textbook open to page three hundred and ninety four, ‘A Comprehensive Timeline of Quirk Generations.’ You’re attempting to study for your next upcoming quiz in Midnight’s class.

Key word: attempting.

A delicious smell was starting to waft your way from the kitchen across the room, and now you were kind of hungry. You could feel your attention waning and shook your head, the image of your most recent report card filled with straight As sobering you up. Food could come later, right now you had to focus.

Just twenty more minutes of review, then I'll eat.

Bakugo’s placing the breakfast he easily finished whipping up on the counter. As he uses a spatula to gently coax the fluffy soufflé pancakes out of the pan, he notices the familiar petals of your favorite flower decorating the ceramic he’s putting them on.

It was from a tableware set he picked out when everyone first moved into the dorms. Glasses had assigned everyone groceries among various other things to go shopping for in small groups, and he was paired up with Ponytail to go buy plates.

They were browsing the shelves of a local Daiso store filled with colorful, adorably decorated dishes and rice bowls, when he stopped in front of a price tag, eyes dragging up to study the item it belonged to. The details on it were intricate, and breathtakingly so.

It reminded him of how he felt whenever he looked at you.

Ponytail follows his gaze, and her own eyes brighten.

“Oh, it’s decorated with the favorite flower of–!”

“I know.” He cuts her off, glaring at the floral box set of bowls and plates, before carefully putting it in their cart.

Momo’s eyes widen a bit, before a small, knowing smile spreads across her lips and Bakugo curses at her perceptiveness.

He almost wished he was paired up with that icy-hot bastard instead, who was so oblivious that if you dangled a confession letter in front of him he would have thought you wanted him to proofread it for you.

That was a while ago now, and everyone’s been happily eating meals on the plates they bought ever since.

He tops off the pancakes with a handful of fresh berries and a drizzle of honey, and slides it next to a steaming plate of a kimchi omelette with a zigzag of sriracha sauce already on the counter.

From where he stands, he snorts at your bandaid, noticing the obnoxious amount of Hello Kitty’s plastered all around it. Out of all the bandaids from Recovery Girl’s collection that she kept in her office, of course you would pick the cutest fucking one.

It was undoubtedly something you would like, he thinks, begrudging in his fondness. It was so you.

“Get your ass over here.”

You jump in your spot on the couch at the loud volume of his voice, though it sounded a bit softer than usual. With a finger pointing to yourself, you raise your head in confusion. “Me….?”

Was this about yesterday? Oh my god, was he mad?

You’re not sure why he would be, since he’s not the one that got bitch-slapped in the face by a giant door.

“I don't see anyone else I'd be talking to.” Bakugo scoffs.

He's right, to your increasing dread. The entire common area is completely empty, and you have no choice but to comply with his request.

You’re still nervously fiddling with the edge of your hoodie sleeve, the usual comfort of its softness abandoning you as you approach the kitchen to find him standing at a seat near the counter, arms folded. It hasn’t even been a minute in the same proximity as him and his presence is kind of overwhelming you already.

You’re trying so hard not to stare at his biceps. And just him in general.

“Sit.” he commands, the sound of the metal stool echoing against his hand as he pats it.

You obediently sit down, cursing your lack of a backbone. But his tone didn’t sound like he was planning to take no for an answer, anyway.

“Eat.”

He jabs a thumb at the plate of warm, sweet smelling cloud-like goodness in front of you. You stare at him, wide-eyed.

“This is for me?”

“Huh. You’re slower than I thought you were.” He rolls his eyes and starts to dig into his own plate of omelette in front of him, taking a seat on the stool across from you. It looked good too, as expected. “You’re welcome or whatever.”

With his aggressive blessing and after throwing a quiet but extremely grateful ‘thank you for the meal’ his way, you start to eat.

Your face lights up in joy as the divine taste of spongy goodness and honey spreads across your tongue, and you silently praise his mom for giving birth to the next Gordon Ramsay.

He flicks your forehead as you’re mid-bite in pancake and you yelp in surprise, raising your head to glare at his handsome face. What now? And did he have to be as infuriating as he was good-looking?

That crimson gaze once again stares you down, barely contained amusement dancing in embers of the hot coals of his eyes, and your skin grows warm as you realize you said that last part out loud.

You’re about to give into the urge to run away and take the plate of half-finished pancakes with you when he gruffly speaks up.

“You can’t retain information unless you have something in your stomach, idiot.”

You nod, mouth full, and make a mental note to study on an empty tummy away from him in the future. It’s like he reads your mind because you wince as he scowls, flicking your head again, although a little more gently this time.

Taking care to do it in a spot away from the bandaid covering the injury that he caused, your brain points out.

The both of you continue to eat in comfortable silence.

After a while, your plates are nearly clean.

You smile a little, realizing that you were eating on your favorite plate in the dorm’s kitchen the whole time, and admire the petals of your beloved flowers delicately painted in the center and outer edges of the stark white dish, with the pancakes no longer covering them.

Bakugo notices this, as you softly begin to trace the rim with your finger, and fights the twitch of his lips that threatened to curl upwards.

He’s also noticed those little glances you think you’ve been discreetly throwing his way between the bites of pancake, which you nearly inhaled to his pride.

You could almost be as quiet as that rock-faced animal whisperer of a classmate you both had, but you’ve always sucked at being subtle.

Good thing he hates subtle things.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks as you start to slide off the tall stool, a hint of smirk in his voice. It was cute, how you think you could run away from him so easily. You stop in your tracks, blinking at him as he rises from his own seat.

Strong, toned arms that you totally haven’t been staring at for the past half hour are slowly placed on both sides of you, caging you against the counter. An embarrassing noise escapes from your lips, and the cold granite bites into your back as you lean away, doing anything to avoid his gaze.

“Look at me.”

He rolls his eyes as you continue to look to the side, suddenly finding the chibi magnets of various high ranking heroes on the fridge to be very interesting.

“I said,” he grabs your chin in his hand, which was so big compared to your face that he could squish your cheeks between his ring finger and thumb, “look at me.

You huff, now forcefully held in place to face him against your will. “I’m looking.”

“Good.”

He leans down and his lips graze your ear, seeming to take great pleasure in only further adding to your embarrassment when he mutters:

“And don’t stand so fucking close to the door next time.”

not bakugo pulling the classic asian parent move and giving u food instead of a proper apology LOLL

#crosses fingers I TRIED TO MAKE HIM AS CANON AS POSSIBLE #bro would tweak if ur grades dropped bc u didn’t eat 3 meals a day LIKE HOWS HE SUPPOSED TO COMPETE W U ON THE CLASS RANKINGS NOW #i think he’d def be softer with someone he crushes on but still kinda strict slash stern ykwim #tough love babey #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bakugo oneshot #bnha x reader #mha oneshot #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff

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luvonmes-blog · 9 months

Text

Guilty

Y/N and Suguru were damn near polar opposites of each other. Y/N, a girl who wore her heart on her sleeve and gave and gave until she couldn't anymore. Suguru, a cocky dickhead who was spoon-fed opportunities and was given everything he ever wanted. how could the two ever make anything work?

Warnings - 18+ MDNI!! enemies to lovers! hockey player!geto, ice skater!reader, tatted!geto, pierced!geto, he gets bitched, getos a whiny little boy, smut, rough sex, sappy sex, daddy kink, breeding kink towards the end, some spit, sex in a public place, at some point Satoru walks in, Y/N kinda cries a lot (self-projection is real). i think theres more? lmk if i missed anything! w.c - 18.5k, not proof read. Song - Guilty By: TAEMIN

PSA - please do not compare this to Icebreaker. ik because of ice skating and the release of this book it’s the first thing you think of but, number one, that book sucks. number two, the book is supposed to have elements and revolve around muslim culture, the author obviously did not do enough research on what it is to be muslim and i hate it. number three, i actually spent time researching and even had someone help me make sure this was the best i can possibly make it, i’d like if my work was appreciated for being my work instead of it being appreciated because it reminds you of smt else. thank you!

all in all, DO NOT COMPARE THIS TO ICEBREAKER.

very special shout out to @r0ses4ndlilies for helping me use the proper ice skating terms!!!

----------------

to say Suguru Geto was meant to be something - someone - important was as if to say the sun was meant to shine. obvious.

from a young age Suguru knew he was special, gifted in academics and sports, the only person to rival him - his own best friend, Satoru. the boys were their hometowns' prized possessions. their families bragged about them, boys wanted to be them, girls fawned after them. being in their presence meant there was never a dry day but as they grew older, they grew more focused. straying away from others to pursue their dream careers. the dream was finally reached in their college years, being accepted into the prestigious university, Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College. as soon as they graduated high school they were offered full rides to the school, as long as they played on the hockey team.

they took the offer without hesitation, going to one of the highest ranked schools and getting to play the sport of their dreams? easy yes. that was almost four years ago, the boys are in their last year of college, still playing for the hockey team, almost ready to graduate. the team was the best it had been in years, only three losses since Suguru and Satoru joined the team. not only were they the best on the team but the most popular in their frat as well - Sigma Beta Chi, courtesy of Satoru dragging Sugura to join along with him.

then there was you.

to say you had busted your ass to get where you were today would be an understatement. you poured your blood sweat and tears to get to the spot you’re in, captain of the TMTC ice skating team. as a child you’d always dreamed of becoming a figure skater. a video you had seen sparked your interest and since then you’d never let it go. it was hard, growing up your grandfather had tried his best to support you, going out of his way to pay for your skating lessons and even putting you into an after school program. he never told you of his financial struggles, he didn’t want you to give up on your dream but when you found out, you vowed to pay him back any way you could. you made sure your grades in school couldn’t be challenged, you took on many temp jobs, making money any way you could, while balancing the energy-draining skate practices you went to at night.

in your third year both upper and lower-classmen voted you as captain for the school's team and you were over the moon. you immediately called your grandfather to tell him the great news and he was just as happy as you, forever and always your number one supporter. since you became captain you’ve pushed yourself to and over your limit, challenging yourself in any way possible to make sure you were always at your best. many late nights were spent at the rink until your legs hurt so much you weren’t sure you’d be able to walk back to your dorm. you made sure the team was as best as they possibly could be, some members thought you were a bit harsh but never challenged you. after all, you had won them gold three times in a row for the first time in years.

the only conflict you had ever had in your four years of being a student at TMTC was with the hockey team. ironic seeing as your sports were the most similar of any other sport on campus but the rumor of all hockey players seemed true, they were dicks. especially the co-captains Suguru and Satoru. they didn’t seem to take your sport seriously, always taunting you whenever they’d see you. snide comments about your figure when they’d see you at practice or remarks about the uniforms you and the team wore. you wouldn’t go as far as to say you hate them (that’s just not you) but you weren’t particularly fond of them. they constantly got on your nerves, their deep boisterous laughs making your eye twitch whenever you heard them.

they ground your gears so much you just tried your best to avoid them. it wasn’t that hard seeing as you all lived on opposite sides of campus and in the two classes you had with Suguru, you sat closest to the wall while he sat dead center with his loud friends. Suguru was smart, extraordinarily so, which is exactly why you didn’t understand why he was such an asshole. you truly believed you two could be great friends but he was so rude it turned you away almost immediately. you never understood why he was so mean to you. the first time you had met you were all smiles and kind waves, you went to introduce yourself to him and he shot you down.

the coaches of both teams had called a meeting for all new team members. it was a run down of the rules and regulations, anti-harassment, anti-bullying, non-discrimination. so much that has done for you. after the meeting was over the coaches gave you the choices of either leaving or the opportunity to mingle. you took the chance to mingle, forever a social butterfly, going up to many different people. some of the girls from your team were a little hostile but open to talking, the hockey boys well… if they didn’t try to hit on you they mostly seemed uninterested in the conversation. making your rounds you finally ended up in front of Suguru and Satoru. Satoru had looked you up and down before walking away, hadn’t even given you the time. holding your hand out for Suguru to shake, you smiled at him.

“hi, i’m Y/N.” he stared at you before mumbling under his breath. you thought he was going to say something to you but Satoru had called after him, saying something about pizza. Suguru placed the cup he was drinking out of in your hand and walked over to his best friend. “o-oh…” he looked back at you, your face stuck with your mouth open and eyes wide, shocked. a couple of times after you tried to approach him, trying your best to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he’s not so mean. time and time again he proved you wrong. you would bring in gifts for the team, snacks for practice, water, anything they’d need. everyone was always so grateful, Satoru had even said thank you maybe a handful of times. Suguru had never even muttered anything.

you kept trying, ever the people pleaser, finding different ways to appease him, if you noticed he seemed to enjoy something more than another you would bring it in more. you would try to catch up to him after practice, spark up a conversation, he never seemed to care enough. you couldn’t understand why you were so obsessed with making him like you. maybe it was because growing up you always made sure everyone liked you, never leaving the house with a hair out place, always bending over backwards to make sure everyone was at least content with you. maybe it was because you couldn’t function if you felt like there was any sort of scrutiny upon your character. maybe you were so obsessed with making him like you because you had a little crush- no, no way. you kept up, trying so hard to get on his good side. it took up until one night, one night and the fixation fell. you were walking out after a long day of practice, he was in front of you, looking down on his phone.

“hey!” you yelled after him, starting in a little jog to catch up to him. he stopped for a second as you stepped next to him. “hi.” you were panting a little bit, breaths coming out in clouds due to the cold air. the snow that was falling landed in your eyelashes, you were smiling at him, so bright and wide, you looked so cute. cuter than anyone Suguru has seen before. “um, i saw a spin you did back there when you were practicing. i was wondering if maybe you could show it to me. i’ve seen some other skaters on your team do it before too, it’s really cool and i was hoping i could take it back to my team and show them.” you looked up at him, hopeful.

“yeah, no.”

“oh. please? i’d really appreciate it.” you flashed him with that bright smile of yours. he was tempted to say yes, so tempted. if he did teach you maybe he could make you smile more. smile at him.

“i said no.” you pouted, he was walking away before he turned back around to face you. your face lit back up, eyes sparkling, maybe he changed his mind? “and leave me alone, i notice the weird shit you do to get my attention. it’s annoying, stop.” your face dropped. he turned his back towards you again. after that day you did exactly what he said, left him alone. from that day on you’d begun avoiding him.

you’d done a great job at it too, for years you stayed out his way… until today.

it was another late night at the rink. wednesdays the rinks were always empty for mandatory deep cleaning, the captains would usually ask the manager of the building if they could borrow it on these nights to practice by themselves. there was a deal that the captains of the separate teams could have the rink every-other wednesday, tonight was your night. you were on your way into the rink, texting your friend Bri, she was telling you about how Satoru was staring at her from across the lecture hall. she was obsessed, it was odd seeing as you told her how much he got on your nerves and how he teased you in public. she didn’t seem to care too much.

as you were heading to the locker room you heard clinking coming from the ice, you had assumed it was the cleaning crew, they’d usually be finishing up right about now. lacing up your skates you finally put your phone down, over Bri’s delusions, you were too afraid to cut her off as a friend, scared of the potential consequences. walking to the rink, your guards scuffing against the floor as you dragged your feet, already feeling the pain in your legs. you were just about to sit down and take your guards off before you saw him. the infamous number two on his jersey moving against his body as he moved the hockey puck around with his customized stick.

“hey!” you yelled out through the windows separating the bleachers and the rink. “what are you doing?” he stopped just as he was about to hit the puck into the makeshift goal he mapped out in the corner. turning around to look at you with low eyes.

“what does it look like i’m doing?” he answered back, snarkily.

“it looks like you’re taking up my time.” you were annoyed, he knows this is your time, you’d even specified yesterday. talking just loudly enough for the hockey team to hear from across the rink, you knew they were listening in, they always do.

“your time?” he scoffed.

“yeah, my time.” you rolled your eyes. “listen, i don’t know how long you’ve been here but it’s long enough. i really don’t want to be mean or make this bigger than it is but i really need to practice. i’d really appreciate it if you left.” you gave him the kindest smile you could then sat down to take the guards off your skates.

“alright, princess, i was here first. that means i get the rink.” his arms were out at his side, gesturing to the rink. you shot back up quickly.

“no!” you exclaimed. “this is my night. you being here first doesn’t mean anything. and i told you to stop calling me that.” princess. the stupid nickname he had given you two years ago. you were leaving the rink after a meeting between the two teams, him and Satoru trailing behind laughing and giggling to each other. he’d tried calling after you, yelling your name a couple of times, you had ignored him, not wanting to deal with their antics. he yelled after you once more before the godforsaken nick-name fell from his lips. you stopped immediately, turning on your heels before telling him to not call you that. after that he made it a point to call you it whenever he could.

“first come first serve, princess.” your eye twitched.

“Geto-”

“what’s up with the formalities? can’t call me by my name?” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“can you just leave?”

“i already told you-”

“i know what you told me and i’m telling you, it’s my night here and i’d like to practice now.” your tone was stern.

“no.” he stated simply. you guffawed.

“no?”

“no.” you took a deep breath before turning away.

“y’know what, nevermind.” beginning to walk away you heard the sound of his skates against the ice.

“you giving up that easily princess!?” he yelled after you. you turned back around to find him at the door of the rink, coming towards you.

“can you just not? i’m not in the mood for this today.” turning back around and trudging to the locker room. he caught up to you quickly - the advantage of having long legs - grabbing your arm. you pulled away immediately, walking away faster. at that he put out his stick, knocking it against the blade of your right skate, harder than he intended. you hit the ground before you could try to catch yourself. your knees took the brunt of the fall as well as your palms. turning over to sit down you felt a sharp pain in your ankle. as you lifted to assess it you heard a snap, yout foot fell ungracefully. looking down, a piece of the blade of your skate lay next to your shoe.

“shit.” Suguru muttered under his breath. “i- i’m sorry.” you wouldn’t look up at him, staring at your broken skate. he heard your shuddering breath before he saw a tear fall and soak into your stockings. “um- here, let me-”

“asshole.” he reached to help you up but you pulled away. unlacing your other skate and ripping it off, you shot up, grabbing your skates along with the broken blade, stumbling before quickly limping away. “you’re such a fucking asshole.” sniffling and wiping your face, you headed to the locker room. he followed after. “just go away.”

“stop being such a bitch and let me help you.” you stopped and whipped around to face him.

“i’m being bitch?” you questioned exasperatedly. “you broke my fucking skate and i’m being a bitch?!” he had never heard you speak so crudely. you’ve called him an asshole on multiple occasions, him and Satoru but he’d never heard you say fuck. it’s like you refused. “look at what you did! you’ve been torturing me since junior year and i’m the fucking bitch! do you know how much these cost?! how much new ones will cost?!” you were damn near hyperventilating, pacing back and forth.

“i’ll get you a new pair.” you scoffed and put your hands on your hips, facing the wall, the shoes in each one of your hands.

“you'll get me a new pair. you’ll get me a new pair?! do you even know where these came from?!” you were in distress, overwhelmed, Suguru seemed to have that effect on you. “you can’t just get me a new pair, Geto. i can’t believe you.” your voice broke. “i- i always knew you were a dick but i really didn’t you’d go so far to break my skates.”

“it’s really not that big of a deal.” he rolled his eyes.

“not a big deal?” you finally turned to face him, the look on your face did something to him, it actually made him feel… bad. “they were from my grandfather, he made them for me in junior year and the guy who made them closed shop the next year. you can’t get another pair.” shit. shit. he fucked up, bad. he was in too deep now, if he owned up to it now then that would means he’s wrong and Suguru Geto he never been wrong. well, not if you ever asked him.

“this wouldn’t have happened if you had just left.”

“it’s my night Geto, you knew that!”

“yeah well i needed the practice.”

“what the fuck did you think i needed?”

“come on, we both know which one of us is more important here.” you were pissing him off, he was deflecting.

“you can’t be serious.”

“i am. nobody takes you fucking serious, nobody cares about watching you parade around on the rink in your small little fucking skirts.” you looked up to the ceiling and nodded your head.

“right.” you turned away from him. “you’re right.” you walked away, he heard you go into the locker room and he went back to the ice. eventually he heard the front doors open and close.

----------------

for the next three weeks he had not seen you come into your wednesday practices. he purposely came to the ones he knew you would be at but you had never showed up. he would wait until closing time, staying until the custodial staff would kick him out, you never appeared. he noticed you were in and out of your classes as well. you had the same classes together everyday, civics and economics, some days you would be there but have your head down and constantly checked your phone. other days you weren’t there at all. he had asked your professors if he could have your papers, to make sure you were getting them but each of them had replied that you didn’t need them, you were all caught up.

you didn’t come to your teams practices either, luckily you had always taught them the drills you came up with way beforehand. if Suguru had ever cared to look deeper into who you are (which he’d never admit that he did) he would maybe, possibly, just maybe own up to the fact that he might admire the way you carried yourself. you’re a great captain, an amazing skater, and an even better student. you’re just up there with him and Satoru. he’ll never tell you that though. he oftentimes wondered what you thought about him. did you think he was smart? a good skater? do you think he’s attractive? he wants to know if you think of him the way he thinks of you. he’ll never ask.

eventually you came back. two more weeks of not being there, then, he saw you again. you were in class, back at practice, running drills and laughing with your friends. but he noticed something different, you were more reserved, if you weren’t with your friends you weren’t with anyone at all. your smile didn’t reach your eyes like it usually did. after practice you left immediately, not waiting for everyone to leave like you usually did. you were out of the door before anybody could say bye. you weren’t you. Suguru looked after you, even if you weren’t aware, he did. he made sure when him and Satoru picked on you they never went too far. when he heard other guys on the team talk about you, he shut it down almost immediately. Suguru cared, he’d never outright show it or tell you but he did.

even now that you’re back you still weren’t coming to your wednesday practices. at some point he stopped going for “practice” and would wait for you to walk through the doors. you never did. he got around to asking one of your teammates, Yari, where you had been. she told him you found a new rink, a better one. apparently you knew the manager well and he would give you the space for two nights a week. she had said you lucked out, the rink was spacious and had more to offer. Suguru thanked Yari by finger-fucking her in the back office. she walked out dazed with a blissed out smile on her face while he sat… disgusted. he didn’t even like her. he didn’t like a lot of the girls he slept with, he just did. building up a reputation of one of the best fucks on campus, besides Satoru of course.

he’s always wanted one girl. he’s always wanted you but you’ve never paid him any mind. around campus he’s heard about you, the boyfriend you had in junior year, how much he hurt you and how you swore off relationships after. choosing to focus on school like you had promised yourself you would once entering the university. Suguru had a girlfriend, plenty of them. they never lasted, he couldn’t stay tied down to one girl. eyes always wandering. he broke up with them before it got too serious. he liked them enough to get with them just… not enough to stay.

walking into class you were heading to, looking at your phone checking your grandfather's location to make sure he was home like you told him to be. stopping in your tracks when you came across big black combat boots. looking up he had an all black outfit to match, like usual. his hair was down in a low bun, some strands framing his face. rolling your eyes and breathing out a sigh as you looked at him.

“what do you want?” sitting up in his - your - seat he sat down his pencil on the desk.

“you weren’t here.” he shrugged.

“so you took my seat?” he could see the annoyance bleeding onto your face.

“it’s not like you were here to stop me.” you just looked at him like he was stupid.

“fine.” moving away and three rows behind him, you plopped down into a random desk. he grabbed all his stuff and took up the desk next to you. you looked at him before looking away and to the window. your leg started bouncing up and down. “you just don’t give up do you?”

“give up what?”

“what do you want, Geto?” you turned towards him. “what do you want? you want me to cry again? you want me to grovel?”

“no. i just-”

“then what?”

“i was gonna say sorry but never-fucking-mind.”

“you were gonna say sorry?” you laughed in his face. “that’s a good joke, Geto.” for some reason that got on his nerves.

“what? i can’t apologize?”

“it’s not that you can’t. you don’t.” you’re right. “i don’t care anyway. so even if you do, it doesn’t matter.” he didn’t know what to say so for the rest of class he sat in silence. when the bell rang you packed your things up and left quickly. it was the last class of the day and he watched the direction you went in, he knew where you were headed so he followed. when you walked into the rink it was completely empty. you stopped in your tracks.

“all practices were canceled today.”

“you’re telling me now?”

“you didn’t get the email?”

“obviously not, Geto.” turning to leave you push past him but he grabs your arm. looking up into those brown eyes of his you try to pull away but he grips harder. “can you let go now?”

“why do you act like that?” you look at him confused.

“act like what.”

“like you hate me.”

“maybe cause i do.” you rip away from him, heading to the doors. he quickly catches up and blocks you from leaving. you let out a huff and try to push past him. “move.”

“you don’t hate me.”

“why wouldn’t i?” you look up at him. “hm? you make fun of my uniforms. you always say my drills suck. you and Satoru make fun of my team and my sport. you comment on the way i skate. hell, you broke my skates. skates i can’t get back. so why wouldn’t i?”

“hate isn’t in your vocabulary.” he states, simply. he’s right, it’s not but would you let him know that?

“yeah? how would you know?” he stared at you, questioning whether you did hate him or not. you were right, how would he know? pulling away from him you turn towards the locker rooms, if practice was canceled here today you would go somewhere else. he watched you for a second, contemplating leaving before he followed after you quickly. grabbing your things from your locker you watched him walk into the women’s locker room. “you’re not supposed to be in here-” he rushed over to you and before you could finish your sentence, his lips covered yours. his kiss was rough, lips moving over yours hurriedly, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. your arms stayed at your side and your eyes were wide. you pushed him away, making space between your bodies. “what is wrong with you?” you were panting, chest rising and falling quickly.

he moved in again, lips back on yours, this time you didn’t pull away. your bag fell off your shoulders and your new skates fell to the ground. your lips met his harshly, your fingers tangling in his hair. you pulled him down towards you, hunching him over. his hands slid around your waist to grip onto your shirt. he pushed you back into the lockers, the metal clanging as your body met them, he quickly spun you around, your torso pressing into the metal. he sucked on your ear and trailed wet kisses down your neck, the metal ball of his tongue piercing trailing down your skin. he panted into your skin as he ground his hardening cock on your ass.

“if you’re gonna fuck me Geto, get it over with.” you breathed. his hand wrapped around your neck, arching your back and resting your head against his shoulder.

“is that how you should talk to me? i’ll leave you right here.”

“your loss.” you shrugged, pushing him away to grab your things. before you could stray too far he pushed you back against the lockers. he made quick work of unbuttoning his pants and tugging them down just below his dick then, he pulled down your sweatpants, they pooled around your ankles. he ground his cock into your backside and groaned into your neck. his precum dripped on your back as he humped your ass. “hurry up.” you grumbled. sliding his tip through your folds, he pressed into your hole, sliding in only the tip before slipping back out. he did this over and over again until you were huffing in annoyance.

behind you, his face was beet red. he was panting, teasing you and himself in hopes of dragging this out for as long as he possibly could. finally over it, you stamped your foot down, ready to completely push him off of you. he didn’t give you the chance, stuffing his cock all the way into you at once, shuffling forward to press his entire body into yours. you yelped out as his entire length throbbed in you, shaping your ways to accommodate for every ridge and vein. he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, so thick you’re sure your walls are stretched to the fullest and so long you could feel him in your throat.

“oh, fuck.” he moaned behind you. his heart was pounding in over-exertion. he was focusing so hard on trying not to cum so soon. he gave you time to adjust and time for himself to calm down before he busted before he even started. he groaned into your neck as you clenched around him, trying to get used to his girth.

“fuck, move.”

“you sure?”

“please, come on, just move Geto.” he nodded his head. giving one exploratory thrust, trying to gauge how you feel, how he'd feel. he moaned as his cock moved in and out of you. he could already feel the coil winding up within his lower stomach, he wasn’t gonna last. he thrust again, a whimper escaping his lips. your eyebrows raised at the noise. he whimpered. he started to develop a rhythm, hips moving languidly against yours. his hands moved up your body, gripping your boobs through your shirt, you’re not wearing a bra. he pinched your nipples through your shirt and a noise escaped your lips. the prettiest moan fell from your lips.

he angled his hips differently and he hit that certain spot in you just right. a louder moan exited your mouth and he whimpered at it. your moans are so pretty, so pretty they made his dick throb. little “ah, ah, ah’s” left your lips at each thrust, everything about him took over your entire being. all you could feel was his hands on your body, all you could smell was his cedarwood and vanilla cologne. you were drowning in him, every sense revolved around him. Suguru couldn’t feel anything else besides your tight walls gripping him. you were so tight around him his eyes rolled back. he’d never been so vocal before, let alone whined to a girl he was fucking.

you brought something in him, something he didn’t know existed. a need. a need for him to express how good you’re making him feel. “faster.” he shook his head against your shoulder. “come on, Geto, faster.”

“i can’t, fuck,” he whined. “i’ll cum, i’ll fucking cum and it’ll all be over.”

“already?” you moaned out a scoff. “i’m not even close, Geto.” he thrust into you faster. his length continuously brushing over you g-spot. one hand that was gripping your boob moved down to rub circles over your clit. his fingers were nimble and quick but messy. the circles are uncoordinated but good enough to make your thighs shake. you're so wet it's dripping down your thighs and getting on his, his hand is soaked now.

“stop calling me that.” he whined. “say my name.”

“that is your name-”

“no. my name please.” he sounded so pretty whining for you.

“Suguru.” he moaned. “i’m gonna cum, Suguru.” you were the one whining now.

“please.” he rubbed your clit faster, hurriedly thrusting into you. you met him thrust for thrust, moving with him. “fuck, just like that, princess.” the claps of skin on skin could be heard throughout the locker room. you pray to whatever God out there that no one is here. “i’m gonna cum, i need you to first.” he licked a stripe up your neck, leading to your ear before he bit at your lobe. his nose pressed into your ear and he panted into your skin, harsh breaths against you. all the stimulation was getting to you, his fingers rubbing at your clit, his other hand grabbing your boob, his mouth breathing heavily against you and biting at you. the final straw was when he moved his hand from your chest to your neck, squeezing slightly, just enough to make your breathing labored and make you dizzy. your head fell to his shoulder and you dear damn screamed out as you came.

your thighs shook violently as you creamed around Suguru. the essence of your orgasm dripping down his cock. his mouth dropped open as he felt you clench and unclench around him. he moaned out as he felt his own orgasm creeping up on him. “pull out.” you whimpered. “Suguru, pull out.” he didn’t want to, God, he didn’t want to. finally building up enough strength, he pulled out. his hand wrapped around his tip, jerking his cock quickly, your wetness helping his hand glide smoothly up and down his skin. the first spurt of his cum landed on your back, the warm fluid dripped down your back. the rest came and he moaned with each one. his chest heaved as he came, possibly the hardest he has since his first time, maybe better than that. there was so much of it too, long thick strings painted on your back. he removed his grip from his dick and ran his thumb through the small puddle on your back, smearing it across your skin.

“that was…” he huffed out a breath, smiling up at the roof.

“yeah, let’s not talk about it.” you were quick to pull up your pants.

“what?” Suguru followed after, pulling up his pants, buttoning them, and buckling his belt. “i thought- i thought it was good. you thought it was good right?” you gathered all your things and headed to the door.

“it was fine.”

“just fine?” you were rushing to the front door. “come on, it was more than just fine. Y/N, look at me.” you kept going, not sparing him a glance. “come on.” he reached out for you, grabbing your shoulder and turning you to him. “look at me.”

“for what?!” you yelled at him. “for what? it happened. you can go brag about it.”

“you think i’m gonna brag about it?”

“that’s what you do, Geto. you fuck some girl and go tell the team about it or some boy in your frat. next thing you know the whole school knows about it and that girls just some whore. i’ve gone this fucking long without being caught up in this shit and you corner me once now i’m one of them.” tears built up in your eyes. “at least give me the courtesy of not saying my name.” you walked away from him, leaving him to stand alone, stunned.

----------------

Geto didn’t tell anyone. it’s been two weeks and he hasn’t muttered a single word about what happened in the rink. he didn’t even tell Satoru, the only person in the world he tells everything. ever since it happened you wouldn’t even look at him. if he caught your eyes you would immediately cast yours down. you went back to avoiding him and he hated it, he fucked up. he still can’t explain what came over him that night, he doesn’t know why it happened but he can’t take it back now. he thought it would open the door for something, some way in for him. it didn’t.

one of your friends, Reí, had noticed something was up with you. you were quieter, there was this awkward air to you. she approached you one day when you were leaving class.

“hey, what’s up with you?” you were heading to the quad, it was lunch time and you had some extra work you’d like to get done, you figured fresh air would be good for you.

“nothings up with me.” you chuckled awkwardly. you took a seat on a bench under a shady tree. the sky was a little muted today, the fall season in full effect, it wasn’t a bright day like it usually would be. the sky not a bright blue and the sun not shining as much as it would. it seemed as though the earth was reflecting your mood.

“come on, Y/N/N, be honest with me.” she laughed. “what’s up?” you huffed a bit as you looked over your campus. a gust of wind blew past you, blowing your hair over your shoulder.

“i fucked up.” you whispered.

“you? you never fuck up.” Reí tried to joke.

“i did, i do. i- i don’t know.” you began to pick at your nails.

“what happened?” you sighed before turning to look her in her eyes.

“there’s this guy.”

“a guy?”

“yeah.”

“so… what about this guy? do you like him? is that it, you like a guy?”

“no. i don’t like this guy, that’s the problem.”

“well Y/N/N, i don’t think it’s that much of a problem. you don’t like him, it can’t be that serious. right?”

“we fucked.”

“oh!”

“we fucked and i don’t know what to do.” you sobbed, tears running down your face. Reí moved closer and pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you and petting your hair. she shushed you as you cried into her neck. “i don’t do that type of thing and- and ever since J i haven’t done anything and then this one guy comes out of nowhere and just fucks it all up!”

“it’s ok, we all have flings in college, it’s cool.”

“no! it’s not just a fling, Reí, i hate this guy.” your sentences came out in broken sobs. “that was never supposed to happen and now when everyone finds out they’re gonna think i’m some slut for letting it happen.” you pulled back to look at her, your lower lip trembling as you spoke.

“why would anybody think that?” she tucked pieces of your hair behind your ear and wiped your tears.

“cause that’s what everybody thinks.” you looked down and played with your hands. “everyone here thinks all the girls here who have sex are nasty.” you looked back up to her. “i don’t wanna be nasty.” you pouted.

“aww, baby, no one’s gonna think you’re nasty.”

“yes they will.” you nodded at her. “you should’ve heard what they said when me and J broke up. he told them what we did. he told them i let him take my virginity and everyone called me really mean names.” you swallowed harshly. “it took months for everyone to forget about that, until the next thing happened everyone was so mean. i didn’t even do anything! i thought i was just being a good girlfriend.”

“what do you mean?” she gave you a puzzled look.

“J wanted to have sex.” you looked into her eyes. “i told him i wasn’t ready but he told me everyone else was doing it. he said that we should too and i’d be the best girlfriend. i didn’t even know what i was supposed to do.”

“Y/N/N he didn’t… did he?”

“no. i told him it was ok but i regretted it after. he got mad i didn’t wanna do anything anymore so he broke up with me.” another tear trailed down your face. “he told almost everyone. all the girls laughed at me and all they guys called me a prude. said i wasn’t even worth it.”

“he was a dick, Y/N/N. he wasn’t worth it and i’m so sorry that happened.” you shrugged at her. “but, what does this have to do with this guy?” she tilted her head, her pretty brown hair falling over her shoulder.

“cause he’s a dick too. he’s a dick and i know he’s gonna tell everyone.”

“how long ago was it?”

“like… two weeks ago?”

“well, i haven’t heard anything and y’know, most guys wouldn’t wait two weeks to start telling everyone who he fucked, right?”

“i guess.”

“look, i know this is a lot to think about, how about we get your mind off it. let’s go get some lunch, on me?” she was hopeful, she didn’t want to watch you sulk, you’re one of the best and brightest people she knows. you shook your head.

“i have some stuff to do.” you whispered.

“ok. fine, ok. you want me to sit with you?”

“no. i wanna be alone if that’s ok.”

“sure. just- just let me know if you need anything, yeah? i’m always here.” you gave her a nod and she leant down to give you a peck on the forehead before she walked away. she’d always been a good friend to you. looking back out to the campus, you saw his familiar black hair, in a half up half down style now. he walked with some girl - Yari, from your team - he was walking her to the science building and once they reached the front doors, she turned around and smiled at him. they spoke for a bit before he grabbed her by her chin, pulling her to him and planting a kiss on her lips. once he let go she looked up to him, her eyes sparkling.

your heart clenched.

getting up and gathering your things you stormed off and towards your dorm. retreating there for the rest of the day.

Suguru didn’t mean to get involved with Yari. really, it just… happened. he was upset about the situation between you two and she just so happened to be there. the only reason he’s stayed talking to her for this long is because in some way, she reminds him of you. the way her eyes light up when she looks at him, as if he’s hung the moon and the stars, it reminds him of how you used to look at him way back when. before he fucked you over. before he was so mean to you, how your eyes would shine when you looked at him. if he squinted just enough when looking at her, he could see you. ever since that night in the rink, he’s only wanted to see you. to feel you again, to hold you. his hands have been itching to grab for you whenever you two cross paths. not having you is like living hell. he hates it.

finally leaving Yari, he turns around to head to his own class. making his way across the quad he sees a figure hurriedly walking in some direction. when he looks over at it, he recognizes it’s you. he wants to follow you, so bad. but he knows he shouldn’t, if he did you’d probably have his head on a stake.

----------------

another week had passed before you started feeling somewhat like yourself again. Reí had decided to take you out a couple of days ago. she took you to the diner not too far off campus, you two talked over milkshakes and french fries. she didn’t pry too much but talking to her made you feel like you had a weight lifted off your chest. it felt great. practice was canceled again today, something about one of the coaches having a family emergency, so the rink was free for the day.

you decided to take it over for the night. one of the custodians told you no one was coming in tonight so you were free to have it. you were trying to get one specific move down, the same one you’ve been trying to learn since freshman year. it was a move all hockey players used. a hockey stop, simple yet, you’d once seen Suguru spin and come to a full hockey stop. you’d wondered how he did it. while your sports were similar there was a clear difference between them. figure skaters were gentle with their movements and it took more agility to follow through with them. hockey players were more aggressive. hockey was about defense and brutality, the players were more up-front and they lacked flexibility.

while you were a figure skater, you did appreciate hockey and had taken a liking to practicing their moves. you’d even introduced some into the choreography of your team, giving some contrast to the ensemble. the harshness of the hockey moves plus the gentleness of figure skating make for a beautiful scene. you’ve mastered the hockey stop, it’s an easy move but when you had watched Suguru do a complete 360 and come to the stop it was something you had wanted to do as well. while you’d seen him do it years ago it never really left your head and with the new choreography you were coming up with, you wanted to include the move.

you were getting closer, you think. well, it was better than before. at first you had completely busted your ass, sliding along the ice and hurting your chin. now most times when you fell, you went down slower. able to catch yourself before you fell on your ass again. as you were practicing you fell again, sitting down and huffing out a breath. the ice nipped at your legs through your tights and you sat for a second, looking up at the roof before looking down to play with your hands. what you hadn’t noticed was a guest within the seats, watching you as you tried to ace the move over, and over again.

“you’re putting too much weight on your back foot.” your head shot around quickly, turning to face the booming voice. you rolled your eyes when you looked at him. there he stood, 6 '2'' stature wearing all black, his arms at his side and his jet black hair falling over his wide shoulders.

“can you just go away?”

“can i help you?” the question was genuine, he wanted to help. and maybe spend time with you.

“no.”

“why not?”

“cause i don’t want your help.” you deadpanned. Suguru got up and walked away, you thanked God he chose to adhere to your request. getting back up, you went to the other side of the rink, skating yourself across the ice. you turned backwards and put your left leg out, turning into a camel spin, both your arms placed straight out to your sides. bringing your leg back down for an upright spin, putting an abrupt stop to the turn you jut out your right leg for the hockey stop. just as you thought you had gotten it, you fell back onto your palms. sitting back down and heaving out another sigh, you were ready to give up for the day. just as you were ready to go, you heard the doors to the rink being opened. you turned to see Suguru walking onto the ice. falling out and splaying yourself along the ice you groaned quite dramatically.

“get up.” he stood over you.

“i told you to go away.” you looked to him, one eye closed as the light shined in it.

“i told you i was going to help.”

“i don’t need your help. i’m done.” you sat up, getting on your knees to stand up fully. Suguru grabbed your arm pulling you up and into him. “can you get off of me?” instead of responding, he started skating to the opposite side of the rink, dragging you along with him. once you reached the corner, he let go.

“show me.” he gestured to the rink.

“yeah, i’d rather not.” you were going to walk away but he grabbed you and turned you towards the open space of the rink.

“you want to get it down right? show me.” his voice was soft as he spoke to you. you contemplated for a second. you could leave and go home or you could get help from the person who inspired the move. going home seemed like a really good option. getting into position, you started skating before doing just as you had done before, camel into an upright spin and full hockey stop. once again tipping over and landing on your ass. “like i said, you’re putting too much weight on your back foot, that’s why you keep falling back. and you can’t just stop, it’s too much force, you need to build up some sort of momentum so there’s something to combat the weight of your body.” his arms were crossed over his chest as he spoke to you, muscles bulging even through his black shirt. you were staring at the veins in his hands before you quickly brought your eyes up to his then looked away.

“sure.” taking up your spot next to him you did as he said, once again a camel into an upright spinning and once your right foot met the ice again, you gave yourself a slight push before coming into the hockey stop. this time you didn’t fall onto your ass, landing on one of your knees instead. slightly better.

“you’re not compensating enough for your own weight, look.” Suguru started his own skate and turned into a spin, not exactly an upright one but close enough. as the turn came to a close, he pushed himself forward again, quite harshly, before stopping. “see, you need a counter for yourself. just stopping isn’t enough to carry you. now you do it.” this time when you did it, following through with an extra push, you didn’t fall. instead you had tripped forward and bumped into the wall. “now you’re putting too much weight on your front foot. you need to find a balance. do we have to run first year training drills?”

“i’m not some freshman, Geto. i know what i’m doing.” you snapped.

“do you?” you stared at him quizzically before giving up.

“nevermind. i’m done.” walking away you headed to the door.

“wait.” you paused. “i- i don’t mean to be rude or anything. i’m actually trying to help.”

“you think you’re gonna help by demeaning my skill set? i’m captain for a reason.”

“i’m not trying to. i’m captain too, remember?”

“we play two different sports.”

“yeah, and you’re trying to perfect one of my moves. let me help you.”

“i can do it by myself.” you turned to face him.

“i’m not saying you can’t. but i know it pretty well and i can show you how to do it.” you stared at him blankly. “listen, if… if i help you get this right, you can teach me some moves from your team.” that got your attention.

“really?”

“yeah.” you slowly skated to him.

“ok.” for the next hour, Suguru had shown you how to incorporate a hockey stop into your routine. you had finally gotten to a point where you didn’t fall at all. the move could use a little work but it was way better than what you had before. once you had finally gotten it, you were so excited you jumped with glee, somehow making your way into Sugurus arms. his large arms had wrapped around you as you hugged him. when you noticed where you were, you immediately backed out of his embrace.

“sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you began to slowly skate backwards.

“i should go now, it’s pretty late.” your voice came out quietly and you pointed behind you. Suguru began to skate toward you.

“or, we can stay, practice a little longer?”

“i- um, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” he was in front of you. you had skated yourself so far back and somehow, into a wall.

“cause.”

“because?” there’s a small space left between your bodies and Suguru had reached forward, pulling you into him, he leaned down, inching his face closer to yours. “because what?” he whispered against your lips.

“cause- um,” he pressed himself closer to you, torso to torso. “cause-” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as he gently pressed his lips to yours. you sighed into his mouth as your lips met. you wrapped your arms around his neck, falling into him as you breathed him in. he deepened the kiss, parting your lips with his own and sliding his tongue against yours. you moaned into his mouth and he groaned against yours. suddenly, reality hit you and you pulled away. “what is wrong with you?”

“huh?”

“don’t act dumb, Geto, oh my God. i- i can’t.”

“can’t what?” you pressed a hand to your forehead and began to skate away.

“what are you gonna tell your girlfriend?”

“girlfriend? i- i don’t-”

“what?” you turned back to him. “she doesn’t have to know? don’t give me that.”

“Y/N, what fucking girlfriend are you talking about.”

“Yari!” you exhaled, exasperated.

“Yari’s not my girlfriend.”

“so you’ve been doing this with her too? what, you fucked her in the locker room like you did me? does your girlfriend know about her-”

“i don’t have a girlfriend!” he yelled over you.

“then why do i always see you with Yari?!”

“see me with her? i’m never with her.”

“yes you are, Suguru! you’re always with her! i see you parading around campus with her, walking her to class, sitting out on the quad with her. she- she comes to practice talking about you.” you began picking at your nails.

“i-” he didn’t know what to say, you’re right, he’s always with her. it’s not his choice, she just follows him around everywhere. he told her to leave him alone last week but she swore they had something special, that she loved him and knew he loved her too. talk about delusional.

“so i’m right?” you scoffed. deciding to exit from the conversation, you began to skate to the exit. Suguru quickly caught up, grabbing your hand, he turned you to him.

“you’re wrong.” you just stared at him, a glazed over look in your eye. “she’s not my girlfriend. yeah, ok, we did something but that was it. i fucked with her for a while but i told her i didn’t like her, she just- she won’t leave me alone. i don’t have a girlfriend, at all. i don’t want one.”

“so what’s this supposed to be?” you gestured between the two of you with your free hand.

“i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then what did you mean?”

“Satoru’s having a thing tomorrow night,”

“i don’t do parties.”

“it’s not a party,” he rushed out. “Satoru said it’s just a little get together with some friends. can you stop by? maybe we can talk then?” you wanted to say no, there’s nothing to talk about but your mind didn’t have time to catch up with your body. you were nodding your head before a word could be muttered. “ok.” he let go of your hand, it was then that you realized your fingers were intertwined.

when you finally got back to your room that night, you screamed into a pillow. every pent up emotion that was building inside of you from spending so much time with Suguru escaping as you yelled. you couldn’t believe you let him get to you, again. and you can’t believe you agreed to meet him tomorrow night. what was wrong with you.

----------------

the next day flew by, your classes went by smoothly, Suguru staring at you from across the room in the ones you had together. practice was a little rushed, it was a friday and a break was coming up, everyone was excited to get out. now you sat in your dorm, staring at your phone as the time ticked by. it was 7:23, Suguru never gave you a time to show up. what time were you supposed to come? were you already late? would he be mad? you sat for another hour, finally leaving the comfort of your room and heading across campus to the frat house.

walking up to the house, lights were flashing and music was booming. people were sitting outside, all huddled up because of the cold, passing around a blunt. “so much for a ‘small get together.’” you muttered to yourself. approaching the front door, you walked in and were immediately hit with the smell of a college party. sweaty bodies jumped and rubbed against each other, others were making out somewhere in a corner. looking over the area, you tried to spot his tall stature and black hair. when you didn’t see him you moved into the crowd. walking through the people and moving to the kitchen, you grabbed a water bottle before going back to searching around. after searching for a while, you gave up, finding one of his frat brothers instead. “have you seen Suguru?” he looked you up and down before responding.

“you that crazy bitch?”

“huh?”

“you that crazy bitch?” he said, more pointedly.

“what crazy bitch?”

“what’s her name? um, she’s on the figure team.”

“Yari?”

“yeah! that’s you?”

“i’m not Yari.” he squinted his eyes before shrugging.

“upstairs, second door to the left. knock.” that’s all he said before turning to walk over to a group of girls, they all looked at you weird before he approached them. going up the stairs, you almost made it to the top before you saw him. his broad stature leaned against a wall, hair tied back in a bun, his arms crossed over his chest as he spoke. he sat talking to some girl, eyes hooded as he looked at her, a smirk on his face. you stared at the two, her short brown hair falling to one side as she tilted her head. walking back down the steps, especially quiet so they wouldn’t hear you, you headed back to the kitchen. you leaned against the counter, gripping the sides. ok, if he wants to be all over every girl, you can be all over every guy.

stomping out of the kitchen you looked around before making your way to the makeshift dance floor. you slipped in between the bodies, finding your way to the middle. settling into the people grinding on each other, you tapped the shoulder of some random guy, Haibara his name is, another brother of the frat, you asked if he wanted to dance. he looked between you and the girl he was dancing with before completely turning to you, letting out and enthusiastic, “sure!” you heard the girl mutter something before she walked away angrily. turning around, you pulled the boy closer to you, pressing your ass to his crotch, you heard a stuttered breath escape his lips.

you placed his hands on your hips and swayed slowly, grinding against him to the beat of the song. you saw Suguru make his way down the steps slowly, one arm hanging over the shoulder of the girl, they laughed together loudly. out of spite, you dragged one of Haibara's hands up your body slowly. his breathing grew heavier behind you. you knew he was shy, one of the more reserved brothers of the frat. he only joined because Satoru and Suguru made Nanami join and by association, him. you felt bad, you weren’t sure what he was comfortable with and here you were making him feel you up. he didn’t seem to care though, pulling you closer and laying his forehead on your shoulder. Suguru saw you from across the room, eyes locking onto you and the figure behind you. you saw him whisper something in the girl's ear and she looked over too, she gestured to you and Haibara, Suguru kissed her forehead quickly and let go.

he quickly made his way over to you two. when he reached you, he grabbed your forearm and pulled you away from the brunette boy. “hey- oh! what’s up Suguru.” Haibara smiled.

“nothing.” he dragged you along with him as he walked away, taking you to the steps.

“let go of me.” you tried to pull away but his grip grew more firm. “Suguru let go-” he spun you around when you reached the first step pushing you up against the wall. people around stared for a while before going back to minding their business.

“Haibara?” he questioned, his nostril flaring as he breathed.

“what?”

“i come downstairs cause someone told me you’re looking for me and i catch you fucking with Haibara?”

“why does it matter?” you rolled your eyes.

“cause it fucking does.”

“but it doesn’t matter when it’s you though, right?”

“what are you talking about.”

“i go upstairs to find you and i see you laughing and giggling with some girl? the same thing with Yari. it’s cool when you do it, right?”

“some girl?” he stared at you for a second before he started laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he continued to laugh, damn near hunched over now.

“aww, princess.” he stood back up, you glared at him. “you jealous?”

“jealous?” you said incredulously. “why would i be jealous of anything you do?”

“that was Ieiri, princess, my best friend.”

“oh…”

“yeah and i told you i don’t like Yari.”

“you don’t act like it.” was your quick reply.

“ok.” he stepped back. “go upstairs.”

“for?” he stepped back into your personal space.

“go upstairs, when i get up there i want you sitting down in just that pretty little set i know you have on for me.” he whispered in your ear. your face felt like it was on fire.

“i- i don’t have on a set.”

“i know you do, princess.” he walked away, going to the kitchen, before he passed the threshold he looked back to you, raising his eyebrow at you. you turned around and walked up the steps, going straight to his room. once you entered, you contemplated for a second, would you really do this? yes. you took off your shirt first, letting it fall to the floor, you fixed the cups of your pretty bra before unbuttoning your pants. you let them pool around your ankles before kicking them off. you sat on the bed, tucking your legs under yourself and placing your hands on your knees. you sat there for maybe two minutes picking at your thumbs. the door opened and you jumped a bit.

Suguru entered with two water bottles in his hands and something wrapped up. he smiled when he saw you sitting so prettily on his bed. you stood out against his dark sheets. the bright pale blue and pinks of your lingerie contrasting with his dark gray bedspread. “you look so pretty like that.” he sat the things in his hands down and walked over to you, cupping his hand under your chin and tilting your head up. he ran the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down and then letting it pop back up into place. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, it quickly grew messy, “open.” he murmured against your lips. you parted your lips, looking up to him with wide eyes. he let a glob of spit from his mouth fall into yours. “swallow.” he watched your throat bob up and down, you could taste the fruit punch he drank earlier. he tasted sweet. “sit back and spread your legs for me.” you looked up at him as he stood back up, leaning himself against his dresser. “you gonna do it or do i have to make you?”

you crawled up to his headboard slowly on all fours, he watched you, his cock twitching in his pants as he watched you ass sway side to side. he cleared his throat as you settled against his pillows. you spread your legs for him, watching him from across the room. “what do you want me to do?” you asked in a whisper.

“i want you to fuck yourself on you fingers like you do when you think of me.”

“i-”

“what?”

“i don’t think of you.”

“come on, princess, we both know you do. why else would you get your panties in a twist when you see me with another girl?” you sighed, looking down at yourself. “pull those pretty little panties to the side and spread yourself open on your fingers.”

“ok.” you whispered. your fingers twitched nervously, not sure what to do with him staring at you.

“just pretend i’m not here, pretty girl, it’s ok.” you nodded your head. everything around you was so irrecoverably him, the sheets were soft against him and smelled like him, so warm. if you focused hard enough you could hear his breathing from across the room. closing your eyes you began to slowly trail your fingers down your body, hyper aware of your own touch. you dragged your fingers back up your stomach and to your chest, cupping your boobs through your bra. “take it off.” you obliged, quickly unclipping the offending garment and letting it fall off the side of the bed. “fuck.” you could hear the sound of a zipper and some shuffling. pinching your nipples you let out a soft sound, tweaking both of them between your thumb and forefinger. letting one hand trail down your body again, you dragged it down and began to run circles over your clit on top of your underwear.

“Suguru.” you moaned softly. he groaned at the noise. you slipped your hand into your underwear, the stimulation sent sparks up your spine. dragging your fingers down to your hole, you circled it before slipping your middle finger in. you could hear a wet noise coming from where he is and the idea of him pulling on his cock to your fingering yourself pulled a moan out of you. slipping another finger into yourself, you moved them faster, the pads of them rubbing against your walls.

“go faster. wanna hear it.” he panted. wanted to hear it..? oh. oh. he wanted to hear the sound of your wetness as you fucked yourself. your back arched as you fucked yourself faster. your other hand continued to tweak at your nipple. you moaned out as you felt your stomach clench.

“Suguru! i’m gonna cum!” your toes curled and you whimpered. you could hear his stuttered breathing and he jerked himself off.

“let me see, pull your panties down.” he panted. your hand quickly moved to tug the gusset of your panties to the side. Suguru watched your fingers move in and out of you. his dream was finally coming true, the one girl he wanted was splayed out on his bed, fucking herself on her fingers, moaning out his name. his orgasm was building up quickly, he was going to bust everywhere from just watching you. you clenched around your fingers, mouth dropping open as you orgasm washed over you. you arched off the bed, moaning Sugurus name over and over again. he watched as you came, the way your essence dripped around and seeped through your fingers, how your chest raised and fell as you breathed heavily. Suguru groaned as he played with his tip, thumb running over it and you looked at him when you heard the noise.

“Sugu,” you whined. “wanna see you cum,” his jaw dropped and a small noise escaped his lips. “please.” he came all over his hand and the floor. spurts of his cum falling from his tip and he groaned as he came. you’re gonna be the death of him. once he regrouped, he walked over to you, kneeling above you as he looked into your eyes. he grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips and taking the two fingers that were just inside of you and putting them in his mouth. you moaned as he sucked on your fingers and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“you taste so good, princess.” your hand fell from his mouth back to your side. “wanna taste for myself, flip over.” you took too long to listen to him so he flipped you over himself. he had you on your hands and knees, back arched for him. he went behind you, watching your pretty pussy drip for him. “fuck.” he whispered to himself. one hand rubbed over your ass as the other pulled your panties down. you kicked them off completely and he sniffed them before dropping them off the bed. “count.”

“huh?” slap! one loud clap against your ass, you yelped out at the initial pain but it eventually turned into a pleasurable stinging sensation.

“count.” he said more firmly.

“one,” slap! “two,” slap! “three…” on and on he spanked you again and again. you counted all the way up to eleven before he let up. your ass stung from the spanking but the line between pleasure and pain was blurred. it hurt so bad it felt good. you whimpered when he circled his hands over your ass. before you could recognize what was going on, you felt a stripe being licked from your clit to your clenching hole. “Sugu!” you looked behind you to see him hunched over, sucking harshly on your clit as he spread your ass. another stripe licked up to your hole before he slipped his tongue in, you clenched around it, the cold metal of his piercing contrasted against the warmth of your walls and you swore you saw heaven. you shook as he fucked you with his tongue, falling onto your front your back arched perfectly for him as you pushed back against him.

the sounds were obscene, you could hear his tongue working against you and him groaning into your pussy. you moaned when he landed another slap to your ass, he gripped and jiggled it against his face. “oh my- fuck!” you squealed. he tongue licked and prodded against your walls as he ate you out. your thighs began to tremble, toes curling as your legs shook. his mouth moved down from your hole to your clit and you felt two of his fingers prodding at your entrance. his thick middle and ring fingers stretched you open he slipped them into you. he sucked on your clit and pressed his long fingers into that one spot inside of you. you whined loudly and he fucked you open on his fingers. “S-Sugu,” you slurred. “Sugu i’m gonna cum..!” you squeaked. he continued to work at you and another orgasm was building up in you. you kicked your feet as you felt your orgasm approaching but this felt different.

the coil in your stomach wound up tighter, you felt a pressure on your bladder and you trembled. you reached behind you blindly, grabbing Sugurus head and tangling your fingers in his hair. you felt him moan against you as you did so. “Sugu s-stop, i’m gonna pee.” you whined. he kept going, he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care but either way, he wasn’t gonna stop. “Sugu, wait!” he sucked harder at your clit and pressed his fingers into your g-spot. your toes curled as your back arched and you screamed out. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and all you saw was white. all you felt was your body shaking and wetness dripping down your thighs. your legs trembled at the earth-shattering orgasm and you whined and trembled at every touch you felt. Suguru moaned and groaned behind you, getting absolutely soaked as you squirted all over him and his bed. “Suguru!” you cried out, your feet kicked as he kept going.

“one more, just give me one more princess, i know you can.” you sobbed as he went back to sucking on your clit. another orgasm was building up quickly, your entire body shook as he sucked and prodded at you.

“Suguru,” you cried out. “i can’t.”

“yes you can, i know you can.” he muttered against you. tears were streaming down your face, you shook and trembled with every pass of his tongue. your one hand gripped his hair as the other gripped the sheets. the next orgasm came quickly and you cried out as it took over your body. his bed was almost completely soaked through because of you. the essence of your orgasm streaked down your thighs. he let go of you, sitting back on his knees and your body relaxed. you fell against the sheets, they stuck against your body because of how soaked they were. he watched you take deep breaths, your body slowly calming down. you could feel some shuffling behind you and hear the sound of fabric ruffling. you felt the weight of the bed shift, Suguru leaned above you, trailing kisses up your spine.

you felt his weight against your back as he laid on top of you. he kissed and licked at your neck, breathing into your ear. he took all his clothes off, he laid completely naked on top of you, his bare chest pressing against your back. you could feel everything, every outline of his abs against your back, you could also feel his cock pressing into your ass. grabbing his dick he ran his tips through your folds, collecting your wetness and smearing it along his cock. he pushed your left leg up, spreading you open for him and lifting your ass up so he could slip in easily. he pressed his tip into you, slowly slipping in your walls. you whimpered as you felt him throb within you. “oh, fuck.” he sighed. “you feel so fucking good.” he moaned, resting his head in your neck. you pushed back against him, pressing your ass flush against. he whined into your neck, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“move, please.”

“i can’t.” you got a flashback to the first night he fucked you. “i’ll cum.”

“please, Sugu. please.” you begged.

“ok.” he nodded, “ok.” he thrusted once and whimpered. he built up a steady rhythm, small noises fell from his lips as he fucked himself into you. “so fuckin’ tight, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” he fucked into you harder, the sounds of skin on skin bouncing off the walls of his room. “so much better than those other girls.” your body jerked and you looked behind you. “don’t worry princess, i’m not saying it to make you jealous.” he chuckled. “never had somebody like you, so fuckin perfect. you’re perfect y’know that?” when you didn’t respond he stopped moving. “answer me.”

“yes daddy!” you whined. his eyes crossed and his cock twitched deep within you, he never thought you were one to call somebody daddy, never took you as the submissive type at all. he leaned down over you.

“good girl.” he groaned into your ear. “good fucking girl.” he started moving again, fucking you deeper. his tip nudged your cervix each time from how deep he was and the pain added to your pleasure. you were damn near fucked dumb, any train of thought you had completely gone, all you could focus on was Suguru fucking you. you tightened around him, your orgasm building up in your lower stomach. “fuck, are you close?” you nodded your head. “you gonna cum for me, princess? make a mess all over me, yeah?” one hand trailed down your body, fingers playing with your clit and pushing you closer to the edge. you gripped the sheets hard, you swore you could hear the seams ripping.

“i’m gonna cum, Sugu!”

“hold it.” you shook your head. “you can hold it for me, i know you can.”

“i can’t, i can’t!” you sobbed. “i can’t, daddy, i’m gonna cum, please let me cum.”

“i said ‘hold it,’ right?” your body tensed up completely, your legs locking around Suguru from behind. before you could stop yourself, you were creaming around him. you cried out as you came, eyes crossing and rolling to the back of your head. you squeezed so tight around him he almost slipped out. he groaned as you clenched around him, his face was completely red, eyes hooded as he watched you cum around him. “i thought i told you to hold it.”

“i couldn’t do it.” you sniffled. “‘m sorry daddy.”

“aww, it’s ok baby.” he tucked some of your hair behind your ear, looking at your face. tears stained your face, mascara running down your cheeks, he smiled at you.

“want you to cum, daddy. want you to cum in me.” he groaned at your words, his cock twitched violently inside of you. he completely covered you, laying on top of you and matching his body up with yours. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. he began thrusting into you again, building up a fast pace, chasing his own orgasm.

“i’m gonna cum, right in this pretty little pussy and you’re gonna hold it all inside you. then, you’re gonna walk around the house with it all in you, let everybody know that i did it, let everybody know i’m yours.” let everybody know i'm yours. he wants to kill you. his pace began to falter and he gave a couple of more thrusts before stilling above you. he moaned into your ear, quieting himself by biting your neck. you felt him fill you up, rope after rope of his cum filling you up. you moaned with him, another orgasm taking over your body. Sugurus' body twitched as he came, he sighed out as his orgasm finally passed over him. he relaxed into you, falling on top of you.

“you’re heavy.” he laughed at you, sliding out of you and laying down next to your side. you turned your head to face him, he was already staring at you with a small smile on his face. “what?” your voice was hoarse.

“you’re so pretty,” he said quietly. you looked down before looking back into his eyes.

“thank you.” you whispered. he got up quickly, pulling on his boxer briefs, you sat up, covering yourself with your arms. “where are you going?”

“nowhere.”

“are you leaving?” you asked shyly.

“no, Y/N/N, i’m not leaving.” he walked over to his dresser, grabbing the two water bottles and whatever was wrapped up in the foil. making his way back to the bed, he sat down next to you. “here, drink something, it’ll help your throat.” he opened the water bottle for you. you took it from him and sipped from it slowly. he unwrapped what was in the foil - a sandwich. “eat this.” you took the sandwich from him and ate it. he watched you, he turned over to his nightstand - it was then you noticed the dragon tattoo displayed on his back - he grabbed some wipes and began unpacking them. he wiped the smeared mascara off of your face and wiped some crumbs from the corner of your mouth. “can i?” he gestured to you. you raised an eyebrow at him. “wipe you?”

“oh, you don’t have to.”

“yeah but i want to.”

“ok.” you laid back and opened your legs for him, he got in between them with a new new wipe.

“can you push it out for me?”

“thought you wanted me to keep it all in.”

“just do what i say.” he looked up at you, he looked so good between your legs like this, you’ll have to get him between them like this again.

“yes, daddy.” you rolled your eyes. sighing, you tried your best to squeeze all of his cum out of you. he watched it flow out you in thick globs.

“fuck.” he leaned down, licking at you quickly.

“Sugu!” your thighs closed around his head. “don’t do that. ‘m sensitive.”

“sorry, princess, you just look so good.” he smirked at you. he cleaned you up gently, getting up and searching through his drawers for a shirt and passing you one of his old gray tees. he picked you up and carried you out of the room, you hadn’t even noticed the party had stopped. carrying you to the bathroom and setting you on the sink he grabbed an extra toothbrush and any other thing he thought you would need. “i’m gonna go change the sheets real quick. you can come back to the room when you’re done.” he pecked your lips before exiting the bathroom. you got ready to go to bed, brushing your teeth and washing your face. you dried your hands and left the bathroom. you trekked back into his room, there he sat on the edge of it, scrolling on his phone. he put it down at his side and gestured for you to come over to him. when close enough he grabbed your hips and pulled you to him.

“did you um- did you dry the wet spot?” you asked, embarrassed. his hands rubbed up and down your thighs. your own hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck, his bun was looser now, more hairs framing his face.

“wet spot?” he looked behind him. “oh.” he laughed.

“what’s so funny?” you froze.

“waterproof liner.” you looked at him questioningly. “spilled some shit on my bed once, couldn’t get the stain out so i bought some waterproof liners. do you want to lay down?”

“um, no.”

“why not?”

“cause i should go. y’know, it’s late and i don’t want my roommate-”

“you don’t want to stay here.”

“what? no. that’s not- i’d love to stay.”

“so why don’t you?”

“cause i don’t want you to get tired of me.”

“tired?” you looked down awkwardly.

“i know how this goes, Suguru. i don’t want to stay only to be embarrassed later.”

“i wouldn’t embarrass you-”

“you can’t promise me that.”

“yeah, i can. do you- do you not see how much i care for you?”

“care?”

“i don’t want anybody the way i want you. never have. you make me… you make me feel good.”

“oh-”

“not like that. yeah, you make me feel good.” he chuckled. “but i just, i don’t know, i like the way you look at me.”

“how do i look at you?”

“like you care for me too. i like that. it makes me feel like i mean something.”

“everybody thinks you mean something.” you rubbed at his scalp and he felt shudders down his spine.

“yeah but it’s different. everyone cares cause they think i can do something for them, y’know. it’s fake but when it’s you, it feels right.” your face burned at his words and you looked down shyly.

“oh.” you giggled.

“oh?”

“i didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“why wouldn’t i?”

“cause you’re mean.”

“i am. i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?”

“yeah, i just, i didn’t know how to tell you i like you.”

“so you were practically a bully?”

“i guess.” he shrugged and laughed.

“how backwards is that?”

“i’ll have you backwards.” he smirked.

“what does that even mean?!” you laughed.

“wanna find out?”

“huh-” before you could finish, Suguru wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down to the bed next to him. you fell in a fit of giggles and he laughed along with you, silencing you with a kiss. the rest of the tight was spent with shared laughter, kisses, and fingers tangled together. it felt nice, you weren’t used to this side of him. he fell asleep before you, his head resting on his own pillow while one arm stayed on your stomach. you stared at him, watched his eyes flutter under his lids and the way his lips parted as he breathed. you tucked some hair behind his ear and pressed a kiss to his cheek, snuggling into his side, you let sleep overtake you and it may have been the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while. it just felt right to be in his arms.

----------------

for the next week you were either in Sugurus' room or somewhere out on the town with him. he kept you fed, hydrated, and full of dick. there were marks up and down your body from him, bites, hickeys, scratches, you had them all. all the brothers of his frat gave you a knowing look whenever you left his room, always in one of his shirts. when he took you out, Suguru made sure to always take you to places you’d never been before. which was pretty easy seeing as you spent most of your time cooped up in your dorm or in the rink. you’d found a new favorite diner, they had the best fries and milkshakes. the first time Suguru had watched you dip your fries into your vanilla shake, he stared at you in disgust. you’d forced him to try it, he had a whole fit before you stuffed his mouth with the fries. he shut up after a while and agreed that it wasn’t that bad, he wouldn’t tell you he actually liked it.

eventually Satoru had found out when he just walked into Sugurus room only to find him balls deep inside you. Suguru yelled at him to get out, throwing a shoe at his head. Satoru quickly slammed the door but not before he let out a wolf whistle at the sight. you were mortified, vowing to never show your face to Satoru again. that was in vain as the next morning at breakfast he had walked into the kitchen and stared at you for a while before exiting and making his way back upstairs. Suguru made sure his best friend would never mention it to you again, knowing how embarrassed you felt to be found in such a vulnerable position.

you sat in Sugurus bed scrolling on your phone while his T.V played a random show in the back. he laid next to you asleep, tired from running around from errands all day. he stirred awake, rubbing at his eyes and looking at you. “g’mornin’.”

“Sugu, it’s one p.m.” you snickered.

“oh. good afternoon.”

“hi.” you giggled. “do you wanna-” there was a knock at the door. Suguru went to get up but you grabbed his bicep. “i got it, lay back down.” you went to open the door. turning the knob, a familiar voice broke through the threshold before you could get it all the way open.

“Geto, have you seen Satoru-” Bri paused as she stared at you. “no fucking way.”

“oh. hey Bri.” you chuckled awkwardly.

“you’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

“what?”

“i can’t see Satoru but you can fuck his best friend.” the anger was obvious on her face.

“i didn’t- i don’t-”

“are we fucking serious right now? you’re gonna lie about it. i thought you were a bitch but this is low even for you.”

“i- i never told you you couldn’t see Satoru and we’re not just fucking-”

“just shut up. you practically shouted how much you hated the idea of me and Satoru together. were you jealous? is that what it was? you were mad because i actually had him and you wanted his best friend? when he’s over you next week, don’t come fucking crying to me.” Suguru jumped up from his bed and stormed over to the door.

“watch your fucking mouth when you’re taking to her.” your breathing stuttered and tears built up in your eyes. “no ones fucking jealous of you, i don’t even know why she’s friends with someone like you. Satoru doesn’t fucking like you, he told you that but you keep coming back here cause you think you can change his mind. let me tell you something, no matter how many times you fuck him, it’ll never change.” he stepped closer to her. “all he sees you as is something to nut in, that’s all everybody sees.” her eyes flickered all over his face. “go some fucking where before you embarrass yourself.” he slammed the door in her face and turned around to you. he saw the tears falling down your cheeks and immediately pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you. “i’m sorry. i don’t know what her problem is, she was out of line.”

“it’s fine. she’s right.” you sniffled out.

“how is she right?” he pulled away from you.

“i am a hypocrite.” you cried. “i told her you and Satoru are dicks and then she finds me with you. it’s wrong.”

“hey, hey.” he cupped your face and made you look up at him. “it’s not wrong, you’re right, me and Satoru are dicks but that doesn’t mean she can just talk to you like that.” you looked down to the floor, closing your eyes. “look at me. she’s the one whose jealous. she’s jealous because she knows Satoru doesn’t like her and you’re here with me. she wants to be you, that’s it. don’t listen to her, ok?”

“ok.” you whimpered.

“how about a nap, yeah. sleep and when you wake up we can get milkshakes and fries.�� you nodded and let him pull you down to the bed.

----------------

it took a while for you to cheer up after the situation with Bri. Satoru had stopped talking to her completely after Suguru told him what happened, he’d even apologized for letting it happen when it wasn’t his fault at all. now, you sat on the sides of a rink at a major competition. the TMTC figure skating team had won a spot in a regional competition, schools from four different states were coming to compete and whatever team won got a grant of 7,000 dollars to use to upgrade their schools ice skating rink, an unnecessarily large trophy that sat in a glass case across the rink, and the chance to go to nationals. your team had won the spot at the competition a while ago after winning gold against Kyoto college. while you belonged here, it was proven in the way you participated in the last comp, you were deep in your own head.

you made the team practice non-stop to ace the choreography, making sure everyone was on their a-game. you sat on the bench with your hands on your knees, hands tucked under your chin and one of your knees bouncing up and down. you were nervous, you’d never performed in such a large stadium before, let alone in front of so many people.

Suguru sat in a chair not too far from the rink, close enough to see your features and how nervous you were. he wanted to go out on the ice and hold you, tell you it was ok and he knew you would win because he did. you got this far, you carried your team all the way to this comp, he had no doubt in his mind you would bring gold home. he hoped you knew that as well. your team was up next, two already went before you. it was your time to get ready and you led the team to the locker room. everyone was lacing up their skates in silence, the nerves bouncing off all the girls. once you finished tying your skates you stood in front of them all.

“guys.” you started. “i know i’m not really good at the whole encouraging speech thing but i just wanted you all to know that i’m proud of us. we got all the way here, we made it this far because of our hard work. i don’t want y’all to put too much pressure on yourselves. no matter what we all joined this sport because we love it and it’s fun. we can have fun tonight, don’t let some competitions take the joy out of this. whatever happens tonight, whether we win or we lose, it’s fine. i won’t say i wouldn’t be disappointed if we lost but we got here. we worked our asses off and proved we belong. so when we go out there, i want y’all to show everyone who we are. we’re not just the TMTC figure skating team, we’re girls who all have our own personalities and joined this sport for different reasons. show them that.” everyone clapped and smiled fondly at you, standing up and huddling around. they called for your team on the loud speakers. “alright, this is our time, don’t take it for granted.”

the team left the locker room and you headed out behind them. you all lined up along the ice and waited for your que. the song you had chosen began to play and one by one the line began to disperse. following the choreography you had come up with, the dance started slowly. every girl skated out into a step sequence, their movements following the tempo of the song. the music began to speed up and so did the moves, excluding you there was an even amount of girls on the team, so you paired them in twos. two girls were assigned to each other and executed the choreography together. they did a combination of moves supporting one another. you skated through them, sometimes grabbing onto their waists as they spun around to spin with them, crouching down onto your knees and tucking your head into your shoulders.

the music became louder, the beat progressing and each of your moves becoming harsher, more restricted to display the emotion of the dance. you skated on one leg, through four of the girls, you placed one of your legs down, turning the move onto an upright spin and once you began to spin faster, two sets of hands grabbed your waist stopping you. your turn stopped abruptly, just as you stopped you broke free, skating away from them and towards one wall, just as you reached it, you fell to your knees, turning on them as the rest of the team approached you. they covered your body completely, all of their hands reaching to grab some part of you and just as they moved and light broke through the makeshift cover they made over you, they hoisted you into the air. not too high to the point you’d land dangerously, but enough so you landed and turned, one foot poured out behind you and hands displayed in front of you for balance.

the girls began skating to you quite fast, their moves harsh as they came at you, just before they reached you, they stopped. clasping hands and beginning the next part of the choreo you taught them. while everyone was distracted by their dance, you snuck off into a corner, sitting and waiting for your que. you sat for a minute before your que came up. the girls were lined up once again, like they were when the dance started. they all had their backs turned to you. the music grew again, reaching its crescendo. skating to them, one by one from each row they all turned to you, skating faster and lifting one leg in the air, you held your hands out behind you. bringing that foot back down and jumping, you turned in the air and landed on the opposite foot, now skating backwards, body swaying side to side.

just as you saw the tip of someone’s skate just in your view - strategically placed for you - you brought that leg back down again, pushing yourself forward off the tip of your blade and turning around, you headed for the gap between the girls split directly in the middle. you began to spin again just as you reached the gap some of their hands began reaching for you but stopping the turn, you came to a full hockey stop, falling down into position for a hydroblade. four girls behind you fell dramatically onto another while others began to turn into a sit spin. you laid with your chest pressing against the floor, rising and falling into the ice as you panted. the music stopped abruptly, the rest of the girls falling out of their sitting spins onto the floor as well and for a second all there was was silence. all you could hear was your own breathing before the stadium erupted into loud cheers. claps could be heard all throughout the stadium, whistles and the thumps of people’s boots and sneakers as they jumped.

relaxing and getting up from the ice you turned to the team, everyone was looking around the stadium at all the people clapping for them. from across the arena, Suguru yelled for you. he clapped so hard his hands were red. “that’s my fucking girl!” he goaded, he was so proud of you he felt like his chest could burst. he whooped and yelled for you as you and the team headed back to the locker room. he stood out against everyone else, 6’2” frame wearing all black with jet black hair cheering for some girl on a team wearing a bright pink tutu, it was almost comical. you and the team got undressed in the locker room, all dressed in TMTC tracksuits. you skated back to the rink to sit back on your assigned bench. there are three more teams after you. you had to sit through all of them before the results came in.

the teams after you were so good, you clapped and cheered for them when they finished and it was finally the end of the night. the panelists had called for all teams to come stand in the rink as they announced the winners, the announcements began. people from within the stadium voted on who they wanted to win on the website on their phones, they picked who they thought belonged in first, second and third. the victors for second and third were announced and you let your head hang. you had at least expected third, your performance wasn’t like others, it took a more aggressive approach rather than the usual gentleness of figure skating. maybe you should have stuck to what you knew. preparing for the disappointment of a loss, you began slowly backing away from the team.

“and the first place winner for this year's regional competition is…” silence overtook the audience. “Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College!” you paused, not exactly sure if you heard him right. the crowd broke out in applause, cheers damn near breaking the sound barrier. your team was already at the man with the trophy’s side. they watched you before they all yelled at you to come get your trophy. you skated over to them quickly, Reí held out the trophy for you to grab and as you took it, you fell to your knees. you cried as you held the trophy. the team stood over you, rubbing your back, thanking you for leading them this far. you cried harder.

leaving the large stadium with the large trophy on your hand, everyone behind you was yelling out proudly. some stragglers from the crowd congratulated you as you left. once you got to the parking lot, you saw Suguru leaning against his car. you tried your best to run over to him, placing down the trophy and crashing into him. his arms wrapped around you and lifted you into the air, your feet left the concrete and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “you did it.”

“i did.” you sobbed, so proud of yourself.

“i’m so proud of you. i knew you were gonna win.” you cried into his neck. “you did so good pretty girl, you were the best.”

“you’re just saying that cause you’re fucking me.”

“no.” he placed you down, making you look at him. “that’s not why.”

“then what, Sugu?” he stared at you for a second before he turned around and opened his car door, grabbing something and hiding it strategically so you couldn’t see it. once he turned back to face you his ears were bright red and he huffed out a breath.

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the amazing honor and accept me as your boyfriend?” from behind his back, he pulled a beautiful bouquet of purple and white flowers. your jaw dropped and you looked between him and the flowers. “you gonna answer?”

“yes!” you wrapped your arms around him again. holding him close to you. you pulled back and pressed a messy kiss to his lips, tongues and teeth clashing. “you’re so corny.” you whispered to him.

“what can i say? you bring it out of me.” you laughed together. eventually he led you to the passenger seat, buckling you in and pressing kisses to your face. you stared at him as he got in the car. fondness all over your features, how lucky could you have been?

----------------

two months later you found yourself in the spot where everything started. back in the now improved locker room of your school, lacing up your skates to head to the ice. Suguru was waiting for you outside, sitting down staring out to the floor. approaching him from behind you tapped his shoulder. “come on.”

“what are we doing here?”

“just come on.” you rolled your eyes. grabbing his hands in your own, you began to walk backwards to the ice, watching him watch you. now on the rink you pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you.

“what are we doing here?”

“why are you complaining?”

“cause,” he whined. “i wanna go back to my room and watch movies with my favorite person.”

“and who’s your favorite person?”

“Satoru.” he deadpanned, you hit his shoulder.

“be serious.” he let out a hearty laugh.

“ok but what are we doing here? it’s late.”

“you remember that one night you told me if i let you teach me the hockey stop, i could teach you one of my own moves?” he groaned and let his head fall back.

“i thought you forgot about that.”

“i did.” you shrugged. “‘till i didn’t.”

“do we have to?” he pouted.

“yes, now stop being a baby. it’ll be easy, i promise.” you led him to the middle of the rink and let go. “ok, watch me.” you began skating away, once far enough you put one leg out. eventually putting it down you turned back to your boyfriend. “easy, right?”

“sure.”

“now you do it.” he began skating forward but as soon as he put his leg up, he stumbled forward, quickly catching himself. you crouched over laughing.

“it’s not funny, Y/N/N.”

“yes it is.” you laughed even harder, he huffed. “ok, ok, i’m sorry, try again.” he kept trying, sometimes stumbling. he complained a lot along the way, asking if you two could just leave. you wouldn’t let him give up, you kept pushing until he finally got it.

“was there a point to this?”

“of course.” you skated from your spot to him, grabbing him and pulling him along with you. beginning to gain speed, you pressed your back to his and placed his hands on your waist. you leaned forward, kicking your leg out as you skated, Suguru watched and knew what you wanted him to do. he did just the same as you, your bodies lined up together and you skated around half the rink like that. putting your leg down to stop you looked at him. “see, i had a point.”

“yeah but my point is better.”

“you didn’t even make a point.”

“yeah i did.”

“then what’s your point?”

“this.” he grabbed your jaw between his hand and planted his lips on yours. he parted your lips with his own and slipped his tongue into your mouth, you moaned around him. cupping the back of your head, he slowly inched you down until you were both lying on the floor. he kissed from your mouth to your neck, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, he trailed his fingertips along your body. his hands ran along the hem of your skirt before he slipped it under the garment. his finger circled your clit and slid down to your entrance. he circled it and felt you flutter before he slid one into you, you moaned when he entered another. you were so wet, soaking his entire hand as he fucked it in you, he stopped just as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“hey!” you whined at him.

“i know, i know. i’ll make it up to you.” he began suckling small marks into the skin and trailing them down your body. leaving kisses down your body as you heaved at the affection. he licked into your belly button before looking at you. “you’re so pretty.”

“you tell me all the time.”

“just making sure you know.” he leaned down to unlace both your and his skates and threw them somewhere across the rink. his hand slithered up your thigh and he gripped the stockings you were wearing under your skirt. “these are so dumb.” before you could reply, you heard the loud rip of the fabric.

“Suguru!” you yelled at him, “i have to wear these out of here!”

“it’ll be fine.”

“they’re my favorite pair.” you pouted.

“i’ll get you some more, ok?”

“fine.” he moves down your body once more, now coming face to face with the wet spot on your panties. he ran his finger over and pushed into your hole slightly, collecting more wetness on the fabric. he pulled your panties to the side. he breathed against your skin, your pussy fluttering as you felt it. he licked your clit, his piercing running over it quickly. he dove straight into it. wasting no time he began eating at you like a man starved. your back arched off the ice, fingers tangling in his hair, you pulled on it roughly and he moaned into you. you guided his head up and down in you, his tongue dragging over your clit, his piercing rubbing over it. he looked up to you and the sight above him was beautiful, your mouth was dropped open and your chest was arched off the floor. one of his hands began to run circles over your hole, he slipped two fingers in you. you moaned as his fingers rubbed your walls, his tongue piercing rolled over your engorged clit and your voice broke as you cried out his name.

his fingers began to fuck into you faster and he went from licking your clit to sucking on it. an orgasm was building up quickly and you couldn’t fight it off. “Sugu, i’m gonna cum.” ever since the two of you got together, Suguru spent his time learning your body, learning what made you tick and twitch. your hips began bucking up in his face, his other hand came up to hold you down. his palm pushed you back against the floor, making sure you couldn’t squirm away from him. he sucked on your clit harder, your stomach clenched and your toes curled. “Sugu!” your things trembled and you cried as you came, you shook as Suguru kept sucking, his fingers stilled inside of you pressing into your walls instead.

“give me another.” he murmured softly, he began sucking on your clit again. you panted, gripping his head harder, pressing him more into you. you clenched around his fingers harder and before you could warn him, you were squirting all over his face. he gulped it down happily, drinking from you like he was a parched man and you a fountain. he sat up and smiled at you, your juices dripping from his chin. you sighed as he let up, body relaxing into the floor. “i love it when you do that.”

“i don’t.”

“why.” he whined like a petulant child.

“it takes a lot out of me. take your pants off.” he obliged, sliding them to the middle of his thighs.

“you’re bossy,” he joked.

“you like it.” he nodded his head with a smirk on his face, he does like it, you’re the only person who can put him in his place. he lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, his body engulfed yours, wrapping his arms around and you cradling your head as his body bent over yours. he lined his tip up with your entrance. he groaned as he pushed into you, your walls fluttered around him and you took him inch by inch. you turned your head to him searching for his lips. “Sugu.” you whispered, he turned to face you and you pressed your lips to his. he began thrusting into you, your lips moved against each other, you sucked on his tongue and his eyes rolled back. his moan vibrated through your head, you took the ball of his piercing into your mouth, rolling your tongue over it and biting the metal playfully.

“you’re so big.” you rested your head on the ice, your ass was pressed against it. the tights were ripped around your thighs, your panties pulled to the side rubbing against Sugurus cock as he fucked you.

“you’re so tight,” he moaned. “fuck, i love you.” your eyes widened. that was the first time he ever said it to you. his thrusts slowed down and grew deeper, he went from slutting you out to fucking you passionately. “i love you.” he pressed his lips to yours, his hand that was cradling your head tangled into your hair, pulling at it to make you look at him. his tongue ran over your lips, opening them and sliding it into your mouth. you took a minute to kiss him back, your eyes stayed open as he kissed you. his pelvis rubbed directly on your clit and your eyes crossed. he cock continuously rubbed your g-spot, his tip nudged your cervix. you panted and moaned into his mouth, he breathed you in, soaking up every sound that escaped your lips.

“i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered.

“me too.” the kiss between you two grew sloppy, less of a kiss and more of a combination of tongues and slobber. everything was so wet, your face with his spit, your body with sweat, in between your legs with his precum and your arousal. “i’m gonna cum in this tight pussy, gonna fill you up. wanna watch you grow, watch your stomach get bigger causa me.” you moaned at his words, who knew Suguru Geto had a breeding kink? “tell me.” he bit your lip. “tell me you want it. you want my kids.”

“fuck, i want it.” you sobbed, back arching to his chest.

“you want it? wanna be a mommy? gonna make me a daddy?”

“yes! gonna make you a daddy, want you to make me a mommy.” you slurred, words stringing together.

“you’re gonna be such a pretty mommy, princess, gonna have the cutest kids.” he lifted his face to look into your eyes. he gripped your chin, making you look at him. “look at me when you cum, keep your eyes open.” you tried but your eyes rolled back into your head. he landed quick gentle slaps to your face “open ‘em.” your mouth dropped open, you tried to tell him you were close but all that came out were garbled words. “i know, pretty girl, you’re so close.” he mocked. “gonna cum all over me? make a mess? let it go.” you cried out as you came, voice cracking from the volume. “there it is, let it out for me.” your legs shook with your orgasm, your back arched and fell with tremors. “i’m gonna cum.” his thrust faltered, one, two, three more before he filled you up. there was so much of it that you swore you could see your stomach expanding with each rope.

“Sugu, there’s so much.”

“fuck, i know.” it seeped out around him, dripping from you down his balls. he pulled out of you, wincing as the coldness of the rink met his cock. he laid next to you, sprawling out on the ice. “i meant it.” you looked at him. “i know what you’re thinking, i meant it. i wouldn’t have said it if i didn’t.” you sighed with relief.

“i love you too.” he smiled so wide you thought it would stick to his face. “did you mean the other thing?”

“what? making you a mom?” you nodded. “fuck yeah.” he laughed. “you’d look hot as a mom.”

“Suguru!”

“what?! you would. and i’d get to watch it. getting hard jus’ thinkin’ bout it.”

“you’re gross.” your face turned up jokingly.

“maybe but it’s more than that. i want that with you, i want kids with you, wanna have everything with you.”

“i want it too.”

“really?”

“yeah but it might be too early right now.” you turned on your side, laying your head on his chest. “how about… meeting my grandfather next saturday?”

“ok. is he gonna kill me?”

“probably.”

“fuck.”

----------------

THIS TOOK FOREVER!! i was supposed to have this out weeks ago but it's out now! i hope you enjoyed. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

@shadowthief78 @alittlepuppyslut @leave-rae-alone @sugurusprettygirl @kissyblake-uwu @blubearxy @moonlithavensworld @deanzelly @xxharumixx @httpghostface @enhypen-scholarship @breeziebetty @3xv5s @iwannachokeontojifushiguroscock @ilovemydogsimon @jellyamour @secretanimesimp @literallynothingandnobody @morganadorodo @shiroganekagami @mmeerraa @lunairiki @saccharine-nectarine @deepinballs @boba-is-a-soup @localgaytrainwreck @bootlegroach @r0ses4ndlilies @shoyos-sugarbaby @sativaxc @spam-love @sh0rtccakee @onlypickless @nishii28 @missgab @anastasijaiwaizumi @strawberry-hyacinth @ynmnln @flrdete @megmercury @bforbiblio @hwanin @reinersweiner @childof-iluvatar @toijisdilfdaddy @doniveatry @cursedwings2005 @liaurokodaki @vixensbrainrotts @pillowow @beelzmunchkin @idkkk343 @xoxohyuniin09 @fartzalot @ghostlillah @diiaicar @vampl-sh @bffrrufr @jay-mach @firstwarmdayofbluespring @svtkiss

#getou suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto suguru x reader smut #geto suguro x reader #geto suguru smut #suguro geto #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto x y/n #jjk geto

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flowerandblood · 3 months

Text

Duty and desire (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, angst, praise kink activated, lactation kink, fluff ]

[ description: An incident between her husband and their sons causes her uncle to completely break down. She decides to show him how deep her feelings are towards him and to comfort him. A heartbroken, vulnerable, infatuated Aemond in need of simple tenderness. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. I couldn't sleep and that's how I mentally coped with what I saw in the second episode of the second season. You're welcome, lol. If you still didn't watch it, wait with reading it (if you don't like any kind of spoilers). It can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

He had returned to their chamber earlier, tense and visibly frustrated despite the fact that he usually spent that part of the day sparring with their sons, training them in the wielding of the sword.

She smiled at him from above her book, watching as he involuntarily looked into the cradle where Visenya slept peacefully.

The birth of their first daughter was joyous news for the entire kingdom, including them.

"So early?" She asked, spreading out comfortably in her chair, curious about this change of plans. Her uncle only pursed his lips at her words, walking over to the table where she sat and reached for a cup, into which he poured himself a little wine.

He remained silent.

A bad sign.

"What's happened?" She asked immediately, seeing that hundreds of thoughts were currently running through his mind, which if they did not find an outlet would eventually explode in the form of his fury.

He took a few deep sips from his goblet without looking at her, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.

"Viserys and Aegon have suggested that Ser Robert should be the one to train them today. They apparently want to become archers." He said with a sneer and anger that startled her. She swallowed hard, closing the book, understanding full well that his words were only the tip of what he was really thinking about.

"In your presence they always feel they have to prove themselves. They're afraid of being ridiculed in front of you. Maybe it's…"

"At their age I dreamt of my father doing for me what I do for them. This is our time together." He growled, looking out of the corner of his eye into the area where she sat, but not directly at her, immersed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.

"I know." She whispered and her words, something about the way she said them made his lip tremble, made him lower his head in shame and cover his face with his hand, drawing in air loudly.

"They are terrified at the sight of me. Both of them. They don't love me, they just fear me. Their own father." He mouthed, his quivering voice betraying that although he tried to control himself, something about the thought had broken him.

She stood up from her seat, shaking her head, coming up to him quickly, wanting to touch his arm with her hand, but he moved away and turned his head, not wanting her to see what was happening to him.

"If you could hear with what pride and admiration they speak of you when you are not there. They so desperately want to please you." She muttered in pain, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he might have believed he was a bad father, when they both knew how hard he tried.

"To please me? My sons, they live to please me? And if they don't then what will happen to them? Hm?" He asked and fell silent, looking at her at last, his eye red with grief and despair, his face simultaneously red and pale with emotion, his lips parted in a heavy breath.

He covered his eyes with his hand as he burst into silent sobs, as if he had not stifled the thought for a day or a month, but for years, ever since their first son had been born.

She looked at him in disbelief, stunned, at the same time hurt and saddened by his words, by the thought of how he judged and perceived himself.

"Looking into my eyes do you see anything other than love?" She asked, renewing her attempt, taking a step towards him, and this time he didn't pushed her away, looking at her uncertainly.

"– it's something else –" He whispered.

"– how can it be? – do you think I would love a man who is a bad father to my children? –" She asked further, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, his cheeks red from tears.

"– stop it –" He said and turned away, wiping his face, walking to the other side of the room, embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness.

"– sit down on the bed, husband – I want to explain a few things to you –" She finally said.

He sighed heavily and did as she asked, making room beside himself, looking down at his hands, heartbroken. She, however, walked up to him and did not sit next to him, but on his lap, surprising him by taking his warm, red face in her hands, stroking his moist skin with her thumbs.

For a moment she simply looked at him, all helpless and vulnerable, feeling the heat in her chest.

"– you're defending our family – you're the rock that protects us – you have to show strength – be determined – and that's hard when you're king and father at the same time – the burden of the crown is great and you know it – you're trying to prepare them for it –" She whispered, with each successive word placing kisses on his red face: on his forehead, his temple, his eyebrows, his eyelid, his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.

She felt his hands involuntarily rise to her waist, stroking her through the material of her gown.

"– so why don't they understand this? – why do they push me away? –" He muttered, focusing his gaze on her full, plump lips, his manhood hidden in his breeches pulsed softly in a natural reaction to her closeness.

"– because they are still children – children who need their father to love them no matter what – a father who will sometimes let them go their own way –" She said softly, in a gentle, light motion untying the black ribbon at the back of his head, making the front strands of his silver hair fall over his shoulders.

"– I just want to spend time with them like a father with his sons – I want them to need me –" He whispered, and she nodded, letting his broad hand move her hip closer, making her body press against his.

"– I know, my husband – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered and heard him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his erection pulsed hard between her thighs.

She licked her lips, wondering if he was aroused by what he was hearing.

"– my husband is so good to me –" She gasped softly, letting their lips join in hot, sticky, lazy kisses, making wonderful heat surge through her body. "– my sweet friend – my sweet boy –"

She shuddered as his fingers tightened on the material of her gown, his throat leaving a sound she had never heard before.

He moaned.

Not the way he usually did, low and deep, when it was on the verge of panting, but high, the way she did when he gave her sweet pleasure.

Their fingers tightened on their bodies, letting their mouths find each other in greedy, violent, deep kisses – his cock between her thighs swelled all over and pulsed, hot, betraying that he was now completely ready to possess her.

"– I love you – please –" He muttered, forcibly ripping her gown off her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, all swollen with milk. Something like a sigh of delight and relief left his throat as he sank his face into her sternum, his thumbs stroking and teasing her nipples hard from the cold.

She moaned as she tilted her head back, untying the material of his breeches, feeling the wonderful, pleasurable wetness between her thighs, proving that she was ready to receive him deep inside her.

"– my sweet husband deserve to be soothed – doesn't he? – to feel his beloved wife – how warm she is – how wet she is –" She whispered, cupping his swollen, quivering erection in her palm, feeling how incredibly hard it was, its tip thick and smooth, dripping with his moisture.

"– yes –" He mumbled in shame, directing one of her breasts to his face, holding it in his hand, finding her nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it loudly along with her milk as she guided the head of his cock against her pulsing slit.

"– ah – my husband is so hard for me – makes me feel so fucking good – so, so big –" She cooed, sinking slowly onto his manhood only to lift herself on it with a loud click of her wetness, opening her thirsty, fleshy cunt again and again on his long, throbbing erection.

"– f-fuck –" He exhaled, embarrassed, imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, clearly aroused by what she was saying and how she was behaving, needing her affection, her acceptance, her closeness, everything he couldn't ask of anyone else outside the door of their chamber.

"– it's all yours, my dearest – I can ride you all night – you'll fill me with your seed as many times as I need, won't you? –" She gasped, and he groaned loudly into the skin of her breasts, clamping his hot hands on her hips, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, panting and quivering along with her.

She wasn't sure she had ever experienced a similar orgasm, so overpowering, hot, soothing, delightful.

"– f-fuck – f-fuck, Aemond, yes –" She whimpered, throwing her head back as she felt his body convulse, his warm seed filling her womb wit his low moans of pleasure.

He released her nipple from his mouth, panting heavily, snuggling his cheek into her chest, letting her arms embrace him in a tight grip, her lips placing tender, hot kisses on his hair.

"– forgive me – I'm ashamed – I –"

"– you are my husband – let me give you relief when you need it –" She whispered, combing her fingers through his long hair.

"– but – it was –"

"– a husband can show tenderness and understanding to his wife, but a wife to her husband cannot? –" She asked in pain, and he swallowed hard, letting out a loud, shuddering breath.

"– it won't happen again –" He muttered, needing, apparently, for her to tell that lie so he could stop thinking about how weak he was, how he needed it, how pleasant it was.

That he would beg in his mind for more.

More of her tenderness.

More of her praise.

More of her love.

"– as you wish –"

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reiderwriter · 4 months

Text

🔐 Password Protected 🔐

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.

A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?”

The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.

“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder.

“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page.

“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder.

The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside.

“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”

You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept.

It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time.

“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his.

“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.”

“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk.

“Only because you know you're wrong.”

They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity.

“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.”

His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock?

You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.

Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day.

When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed.

“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual.

“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth.

He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here.

Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent.

“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.”

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment.

“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke.

“Yes?”

“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.”

You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly.

“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more.

“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.”

“Where are your manners?”

“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.”

He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do.

Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again.

Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well.

“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.

“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear.

“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.”

He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you.

“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture.

“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered.

Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour.

As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it.

“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?”

“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.”

“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.”

You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play.

This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open.

How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you?

In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately.

“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened.

“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second.

“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping.

“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.”

You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same.

“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.”

Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video.

Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could.

What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all.

You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either.

Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case.

“Spencer, wh-”

“Watch and see, princess.”

The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you.

If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there.

Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge.

You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders.

“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app.

You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again.

“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.”

You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion.

Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want.

“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing.

His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers.

“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down.

“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg.

“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot.

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praisethegabs · 6 months

Text

OLDER

leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.

warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon

word count: 15k

a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️

I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS

Life can be a bitch sometimes.

This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude.

But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him.

The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become.

There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there.

But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back…

His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?

Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home.

Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t.

It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him.

After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you.

Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities.

After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival.

II. RINSE AND REPEAT

He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost.

Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.

At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.

This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.

Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it.

Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life.

After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day.

After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.

Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused.

“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.

“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him.

“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."

"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.

“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity.

“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.

“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.

“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.

“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.

“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.

“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise.

“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual.

At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you.

“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little.

“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”

“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”

“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”

“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.

“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand.

Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market.

His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality.

However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast?

“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi”

“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”

“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words.

“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…”

“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings.

“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.

“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings.

“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves.

“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again.

"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity.

“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense.

“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time.

“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings.

“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it.

“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments.

“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase.

“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity.

“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier”

“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood.

“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise.

“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.

“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips.

The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself.

He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life.

Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks.

What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong?

His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!

The future is a hell that’s only getting worse.

III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING

You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.

However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else.

After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.

“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning.

“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up”

“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again.

“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him.

“Of course. At seven?”

“At seven, it is,” you smiled again.

As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend?

Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions.

Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other.

Betrayal is the word that defines Leon.

He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go.

Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy.

At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought.

“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you.

“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”

“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks.

"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place.

You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends.

“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity.

“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses.

“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad.

Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this.

“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken… what happened to your neck?”

Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew.

“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past.

“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage.

“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine”

“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek.

Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it.

“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk”

Leon was reaching his breaking point.

He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are.

“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t”

When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane.

“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go”

After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while.

However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again.

June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA

“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.

Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him.

“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess”

He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality.

“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!”

The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone.

“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.

He pulls the trigger.

And there’s only blood.

He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you.

“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home”

“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be.

“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips.

“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude”

“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well.

“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly.

You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice.

He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent.

“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs.

“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his.

IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN

The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that.

The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.

Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in.

The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night.

Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.

Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–

“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."

Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.

"Target approaching."

As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.

"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise.

The Porsche approached the garage.

"GO," Leon said sharply.

At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat.

Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded.

A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.

Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him.

Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up.

There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.

He feels paralyzed.

It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring.

It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands.

“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness.

Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before.

“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone”

“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd.

You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock.

“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention.

“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly.

“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time”

You saw him reach the breaking point.

Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.

After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this.

But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life.

“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead”

“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words.

“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin.

“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down.

“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack.

“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope.

Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows.

“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently.

Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe.

“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair.

“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on.

“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again.

“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know.

“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again.

“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room.

“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life”

The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed.

“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."

No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode.

“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone”

After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one.

Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.

“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast”

“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet.

“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night”

“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do”

“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell”

You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space.

“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast.

“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago.

“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it”

Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine.

Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him.

You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet.

“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot”

“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.

“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers.

“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.

“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore”

“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully.

Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease.

“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation.

“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation.

“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen.

“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them.

Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations.

“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense.

“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile.

When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?

He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination.

“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.

“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.

Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life.

“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before.

“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags.

“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”

He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again.

“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone”

“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness.

But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye.

“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags.

The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.

Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger.

“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this”

V. ACCEPTANCE

After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.

You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise.

It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.

“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel.

“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity.

“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college”

“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours.

“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers.

“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that”

“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers.

“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling.

“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you”

Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do.

“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday”

“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box.

He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you.

“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you.

“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it.

“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly.

“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it”

“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence.

“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that.

“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him.

“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma.

You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way.

“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs.

“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things”

“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?”

Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this.

“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive”

While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls.

“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath.

“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault”

Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top.

Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.

"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.

"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.

Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.

"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.

"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.

Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression.

"I'm on vacation."

"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.

"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.

"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.

"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.

"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.

Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.

"Cancel the beer."

"No, it's not canceled."

“Come on… what the fuck?!”

"I don't need any more alcohol."

"Cut it out. What's going on?"

"That's my line."

The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.

"You–!" Chris leaned forward.

"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.

Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.

"...What's the situation?" he asked.

Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues,

"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization."

The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice.

"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess,"

Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.

"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"

"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.

"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."

With a hesitant tone, Leon continues

“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."

Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power.

"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.

"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.

Tension fills the air between them once again.

"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."

"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.

They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.

"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies.

"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues.

"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."

Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.

"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.

"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.

Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student.

"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."

As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.

"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."

Rebecca glances lightly at Leon.

"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."

Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.

"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."

Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table.

"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."

"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.

"What?" Leon asks, confused.

"It seems like you're misunderstanding, BSAA soldier," Rebecca lightly dismisses Chris's assumption.

There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that.

"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.

Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.

"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.

She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.

"She's a great woman," Leon comments.

"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile.

And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago.

"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.

"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response.

"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..."

Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.

"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."

Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence.

"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.

"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”

"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.

“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."

Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.

"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."

He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain.

Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."

Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head.

“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up.

“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes.

“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek.

“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy.

“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you.

“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.

Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him.

Before you, Leon was ready to die.

He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed.

But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you.

It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine.

The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton.

"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."

The merged form kicked out.

The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.

Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.

"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.

"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.

In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way.

Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.

Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.

What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…

VI. ABSOLUTION

When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed.

After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back.

“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room.

“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you.

“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles.

“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job.

“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity.

“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…”

“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you”

Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.

“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears.

“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.

“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead.

After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents.

“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home.

“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him.

“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.

You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you.

“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations.

“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red.

“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon.

“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…”

“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips.

Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love.

“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room.

“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody.

“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “

“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck.

“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin.

“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you.

The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too.

“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck.

“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear.

He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you.

“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest.

You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful.

Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you.

“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears.

Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already.

However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that.

When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone.

Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again.

“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck.

“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly.

“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck.

“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him.

After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.

And he’s fine with that.

2K notes · View notes

tan1shere · 2 months

Text

Bite It Lick it Spit It

Billie Eilish x female reader

A/n: I don't think I need to say anything here lovelies, enjoy !!

Summary: Billie is excited to show you this new song shes featured in, reciting her lyrics to you. Until she's recreating them on you.

Warnings: smut, mdni ! Spit ?? Eating out, strap usage, orgasm denial, squirting !! Think that's it <3

Masterlist ... extra ;)

"Babyyy."

You hear your girlfriend say, coming into the bedroom you both shared. She had her phone in hand, obviously about to show you something.

"Everything alright?" You ask setting your book down. It was currently 7 pm, she had been in the small studio downstairs. Working away on something. "More than alright. I want to show you what I have so far on this remix I'm doing." You smile at her as she sits beside you on the bed, excited to hear this. You always loved listening to the songs she'd make or was in. And you were so incredibly proud that this was going to be with another big star.

'Don’t have to guess the color of your underwear

Already know what you’ve got goin’ on down there'

She chants and you smile just enjoying listening to the lyrics.

'It’s that lacy black pair with the little bows'

That reminds you of a pair you own.

Wait...

'The ones I picked out for you in Tokyo'

Now she has your full attention. Sure you were listening to the lyrics beforehand, but now you're really listening. Her eyes were still on her phone, reading off the lyrics. Until her eyes met yours.

'I saw them when you sat down, they were peekin’ out'

Did she really write this about you? You had a pair of underwear exactly like the one she's talking about, you wore them alot actually. They were your favorite. Especially when she mentioned Tokyo. That was incredibly specific as that's where the pair was from. She had bought them for you as a gift when you traveled there for your birthday last year. Both yours and Billies eyes lock onto one another's. But she didn't stop there, keeping that eye contact alive.

'I'm gonna tell you right now, they're all I'm thinkin' about'

"True." She then whispers. Your brows furrow, feeling nervous at the insanity of this moment. Her eyes bore into your own, making you shift a little bit. Your eyes avert her lustful ones.

'I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it. Pull it to the side and get all up in it'

You hadn't even realized she sat her phone down on her bedside table, and was inching closer to your body. "You wanna guess who that song is about." She speaks softly into your ear. You gulp, her voice delicate. Holding such filth at the same time. You don't answer for a second, trying to gain your composure. "Me....?" You question. She only smirks and let's out a small hum. Her body moves to hover over your own, instantly leaning down to kiss you. "I saw a photo of you on my phone from a year ago today. And that's what inspired me." She mumbles against the skin of your neck, as her kisses move all over the place. "Your crossed legs, in that skirt." You swallow thickly. Remembering that photo. You had your arms up in the air, sitting on a random beautiful fountain.

"That's why I mentioned how the straps were peaking out.. those baby pink bows." She bites down on your neck, making a gasp escape your lips. Your eyes shut in instinct as she continues on. "'Kiss it, bite it, can I fit it?'" The only thing you manage to get out was. "Fuck me."

She glady took that offer. Making her way down your body, getting to her destination. She pulls the pair to the side. "Wish it was the black ones." She trails off, slowly revealing your wet, sticky folds to her. Her eyes becoming drowsy, full of desire for you. She bit her lips slightly, grabbing the underwear by the top. And pulling them down, off your body, discarding them somewhere. Her favorite thing, on display for her. She had to admire for a little bit. But that just made you grow impatient. "Billie-" "shhh." She says, as her finger comes close to your puffy heat. She then quickly licks a small stripe up the middle, before she pulls back contemplating.

She spits directly onto your cunt, letting it slide down slightly. The big bit of saliva staying there for a second, before her face is directly infront of it. Her tongue sticks out and straight into your weeping, aching hole. Pushing the spit inside you. She pulls back to look at the mixture of wetness. And she did both. She managed to get you that wet. It was her spit now deep inside you. God she was proud at the thought. However she wasn't even done with penetrating your pussy. Her face is back in its original spot. Her lips make contact with your own, sending your head back into the pillows. Your hands eventually move to her silky hair, gripping as she speeds up her pace, her tongue entering you also.

It all felt amazing, when she does something unexpected. Her teeth sink into the lip of your pussy, biting and sucking all at once. It felt incredible. Why hadn't she done that sooner. "Bil.." You breathe, moaning on and off. "Feels so, good." You blab, still having your eyes shut. Feeling her lips move into her famous smirk, knowing that boosted her ego entirely. Your high was approaching and fast.

"Nooo." You then huff. Feeling her tongue move from you. Looking down at your fucked out body. Her smirk is ofcourse still visible at your little frustrated pout. "You're so annoying." You breathe, sinking into the sheets again.

"You won't be saying that in a second." Your head shot up again to look at her, but as soon as you do that a loud moan is being ripped out of you. How the hell did this woman put her strap on so quickly. She really wasn't kidding when she said 'in a second.' Impressive. A little hot in a way. Your mind turns into mush though, almost her whole length inside of you. "Had to get you worked open babe, yet you're still so tight." Another moan was to be heard, letting your eyes flutter close again, back instantly arching. Only thing visible in your brain are the lyrics to that song, and how she's recreating them all. "Guess I can fit it huh?" She then says, coming close to your face. "Speak." She orders you like a dog, when you don't respond.

"Y-yes.. feel so full." Her smirk returns to her face, picking up the speed. "Good. Just how it should." You let out another gasp again, feeling her thumb playing with your clit. This makes her chuckle, maliciously. She continues to fuck you relentlessly, beginning to let her hands roam over your skin, she pushes the baggy t-shirt you were wearing up, exposing your tits. They move in time with her thrusts. Her mind overflows with every disgusting but amazing fantasy. Your breath hitches as you feel cool metal on your breasts, looking to see her hands kneading them. How well they fit in her hands as she squished.

As her fingers move while doing so, you feel that same cold metal on your nipple making a shakey, content sigh leave you. It eventually turning into a moan as she squeezes again. She comes down to your face, your eyes were closed. "Look at me." She speaks, grabbing your jaw. You immediately open your eyes looking at her dark ones, which was always such a shock as they are so bright. Her face inches down towards your ear, she gives it a soft kiss before she's whispering. "Wanna make you squirt." Your eyes widen tremendously. If you weren't flustered before you really are now.

As you go to respond it was cut short, her thumb resumed on your clit, her thrusts are deeper, her ring covered fingers gripping your jaw. Her lips on your neck only adding to that, as she used the fuck out of you. You feel it coming, that tight knot. But you didn't have to say a word. She knew. She could feel it. It getting slightly harder for her at the way you're tightening, but that was a challenge she wanted to conquer. Obviously succeeding, she hits that gummy spot inside you, sending your mouth to fly open. "B-bil-" Yet another gasp was being pulled from you, it being loud in her ear as she continues to fuck the shit out of you.

Her pace never falters. Her thumb even speeding up as she sucks and bites your neck. You wanted to tell her you were close, as if she didn't already know. Your hands make their way to her arms, gripping as it's coming faster. "Fuck!" You screech out, you couldn't hold it any longer releasing within an instant, feeling her smirk into your neck. "And boom." She says into your ear, her voice husky. You hadn't even noticed it, but she actually did make you squirt. Your fucked out expression gives billie all she needs to know.

"Guess I'm just, that. good."

#billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x you #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish

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charliemwrites · 8 months

Text

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #poly 141 #open relationship trope #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader

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kaciebello · 8 months

Text

Band-aids of death

Masterlist Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem) Percy Jackson x Hades! reader (platonic) Summary: Percy meets the bandaid dealer who has his friend so smitten Warning: Absolutely non, teeth rotting stuff really, no use of y/n author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. I read the books long ago and I'm currently in the process of re-reading them, so some lore might be wrong. Also using what I remember from the show! Proofread by me and me only :( word count: 1347

Percy has been at this camp stuff for a week now and he was just not loving it. From the overcrowded cabin 11 to Clarisse's relentless bugging, he just wanted to go home. This was his home now, yes, but that does not mean he can't yearn for better. And on top of all that, it seemed like he was good at absolutely nothing. If there was a competition at being bad at everything he would still somehow end up in second place.

Today was no better. Luke, Counselor of the Hermes cabin, has decided that maybe Percy could take on a sword fight. He couldn't. Not like he could go against the best swordsman in the last 300 years anyway.

After what felt like hours, Luke finally gave the boy a break and Percy finally felt like he could breathe. Only for a second that is, because his friend decided to take him to a new area of the camp.

Walking to a small building only lightly connected to the infirmary was rather ominous. While everywhere in the camp where people, this shack could be abandoned and he would not be surprised. His friend. However, walked faster than normally, seemingly excited to show him what's inside.

They stopped by the open door and Percy could finally see that it was not abandoned and the little two-story house was, indeed, occupied. Looking at his friend with suspicion, who now sports a wide grin on his face, Percy could not help but think there was more to it than Luke said.

Walking in, Luke chimes the bell that sits on the top of the door frame. The girl who, until now, was checking out the shelves of what seems to be medicine and chemicals turns around with a confused look. She wore the same ‘ camp uniform ‘ as everyone else, confirming to Percy that she was one of them as well. Although her shirt seemed to have switched color schemes and was black with an orange print of the camp name.

“ Hello Sweetheart, how's the inventory going?” Luke asks and pushes Percy slightly in front of him, not something he appreciates. The girl, unamused, does not answer his question. Instead, she answers him with her own.

“ What brings you here, Castellan? Last time I checked you did not need allergy medication.” Chuckle could be heard from his friend. Percy, not interested in their bickering, looks around the room. Small table by the door with a stack of paper, a black mysterious jar, and what Percy recognizes as an old land-line phone. One wall of the room was just a shelf with what he now knows for sure is medicine with a door at the end. By the window, there was an old medical bed, and next to it, stood, by Percy's standards, an unstable chair.

A hand on his shoulder snaps him out and he turns his head back to the girl. “ So what's wrong with you?” She asks and motions him to sit on what seems to be a more sturdy version of the same chair he just saw.

“ Other than that I suck at everything and my father not bothering to claim me? Nothing much really.” Laugher was heard from the two older campers.

“ No, I meant like, why are you here guys? If you were training with Lu here, you might have some scratches.” She points to Luke, who seems to be proud just of the fact that she acknowledges him. Before he can answer she continues,

“Although if you're seriously hurt, maybe you should visit the Apollo kids, I ain’t no nurse, really.”

“ No need for that, we just need some band-aids.” Luke proclaims and pats his chest where his heart is.

“ You have bandaids in your cabin, and I know for sure, I saw your siblings steal some. “ she snapped back softly at his friend.’ It's in their nature’ Luke says under his nose and takes a few steps to the girl putting his arm around her shoulders.

“ Sweetheart here is a terrible nurse-”

“Hey! I am an excellent necromancer!”

“Too bad that your patient is still alive, Sweets,” Luke argues back at the girl. She just shakes her head and walks behind her desk. Luke follows closely behind her like a magnet was pulling him over. Percy watches as she opens a drawer and pulls out the biggest box of band-aids he has ever seen.

“ What kind do you want, em…” She looks at him kinda awkwardly.

“Percy.” “ Right, Percy, do you want Spiderman band-aid? It's a big hit with the younger campers.” She smiles and pulls out an impressive collection of Spiderman band-aids.

“ Ah, no, normal ones are fine.” I watch as a pout appears on her face as she puts them back and starts to look through the box as if looking for something.

“I want the Spiderman one.” Chimes in Luke who is now leaning over this girl.

“ You can get the boring ones, Castellan, I don't care.” It was now Luke's turn to pout. “ What cabin are you from?” Percy asks, wanting to learn some more about the girl that has his friend so smitten. Her eyes look up at him before going back to her box.

“ I don't have a cabin, I sleep on the second floor. There is a staircase in the back.” She says as it is the most normal thing ever. Which it was, just not in camp half-blood. That confuses Percy, from what he learned at the camp so far, everyone that has been claimed either has a cabin or just sleeps in Hermeses one. So that is exactly why he asks.

“ Why don't you sleep in Hermes cabin?” The girl straightens her posture, seeming in thought. His friend hugged her from behind around her shoulders. They remind him of an old married couple.

“Well, there are cabins for the twelve Olympians. My dad has no throne on Olympus. He kinda does his own thing down under.”

“ Australia?”

“No Percy, the underworld.” She says though giggles and wiggles herself from the hug. She makes her way forward to Percy and stands in front of him carefully peeling parts of the band-aid.

“ Your dad is Hades?” Hum leaves her as an answer. Focusing on placing the band-aid right above his eyebrow where he scratched himself earlier during training with Luke. When she's done, she turns to a black jar on her table and opens it. To Percy's surprise, she pulls out a lollipop and gives it to him.

“You're good to go fighter, Don't stay here longer than you need to!” She sings and ushers the boy out of the chair and to the door. Percy turns to his friend,

“ Luke, are you not coming?” he asks waiting for him to answer. Luke gives him a look of fake thought, Percy knows it's fake because he, himself used it many times back at the academy. Luke shakes his head and smiles.

“No, I haven't been treated by my nurse yet.” The girl groans and snaps her head to the sky. Percy just shrugs and walks out of the building. As he opens his lollipop, he turns his head back to look at his friends.

He can see Luke being peppered with kisses on his face. When the girl moves he can see a band-aid with hearts that now decorates the scar on his face. Percy just chuckles and moves on, determined to find Grover or Annabeth to tell them what he witnessed. He failed to notice his bright blue bandaid with bubbles on it.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series

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azrielbrainrot · 7 months

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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