#and it is the second time I think about wanting to finish that fic so maybe I should but yeah

[muchosbesitos]

BODY PAINT

the plan for your birthday had been to just go get a tattoo. so how’d you end up getting eaten out too?

pairing: tattoo artist! geto suguru x fem reader

contents: modern au/no curses, pierced/tattoed geto, cunnilingus, pulling his hair, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, pet names (pretty girl, cutie, etc.), sucking his fingers, spanking (once), creampie, sorta kinda public sex?

author’s note: basically just a big self indulgence fic

word count: 5.8k

Portraits and portraits of art pieces covering the walls welcomed you as you stepped inside, the jingle of the bell perched on the front announcing your entrance. From dragons to variations of skulls—some with roses, lightning, and a couple of the grim reaper. You could easily lose yourself looking at all the different works, staring at how all the different lines came together and how the colors melded into one another.

“What're you looking for today?" A low baritone voice interrupted your brief exploration of the parlor. You turned to see a man standing at the counter with pigtails, a black line going across his nose and a couple piercings scattered across his pale face. How was it that you'd missed him upon walking inside?

"I was thinking about getting a tattoo, do you guys happen to accept walk-ins?" You responded, coming up to the counter where the man was standing. Choso, from what his name tag read. "We do, our current tattoo artist's busy though. You mind waiting about.. twenty minutes?"

You supposed it wasn't too bad after showing up without an appointment so you just simply nodded, going over to take a seat in the lobby. There was only one other person sitting on the end of the black sofa, their attention purely on the show playing on the TV mounted on the wall. You went from playing with your fingers to looking over at the TV, attempting to do anything that would make these twenty minutes pass by.

"Hey, go ahead and fill this out. And let me see your ID," Choso came back with a sheet of paper, a consent form. You fished for your ID in the back pocket of your jeans before handing it over to him, starting out with the task of filling out the paper. Signing your initials where it asked you to, reading through the different medical conditions that the paper explicitly listed out.

Your foot bounced against the floor as you waited, sudden nerves starting to hit you all at once now that you were in here. You knew that you wanted a tattoo, you'd been looking forward towards getting it for a few months now. But the little nagging voice inside your head told you that you could barely tolerate a needle at the doctor's office, and that was only for a couple seconds in of itself. How would you tolerate almost an hour of it?

A woman walked out from the back of the parlor, a tattoo of what seemed to be her birth year wrapped up in cling wrap. But your attention was quickly diverted to the man coming out after her—though, you supposed it would be hard not to stare at him. He was absolutely.. gorgeous. Long dark black hair that practically seemed to shine underneath the harsh lights tied back in a half bun, eyebrow and snake bites piercings accentuating the features of his face, and dark ink adorning his forearms.

"Here's the aftercare sheet, just shoot me a text or something if you have any concerns or anything," the man told the woman before she stepped away from the counter, handing her a white paper. The jingle of the bell echoed behind her as she left, leaving only the four of you alone in the lobby. Maybe this wasn't who Choso was talking about? You couldn't picture yourself or your panties for that matter lasting hours in a room with him.

Though, you probably should've expected as much with your luck.

"You got time for a walk-in?" Choso spoke up, nudging his head towards you when the other man was finished pocketing his tip. The man glanced over at you before pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through it for a couple seconds. "Yeah, I got time," the other man walked over, standing in front of you before extending a hand out, "Geto Suguru." The coldness from the silver rings adorning each of his fingers was a stark difference from how warm his hand seemed to be. You gave him your name, stopping the handshake before it prolonged more than it should've.

More than it already did.

"So, what type of tattoo were you looking for?" Geto pushed his hands in his pockets, standing back to allow for you to get up from the spot. "I'm not too sure how to describe it, but I have a reference photo, if that's okay?" You told him, getting your phone out to go back to your camera roll. "Yeah, that's fine. Just airdrop to me when you find it."

The smell of antibacterial spray filled your nose as you stepped in, the room somehow been more decorated than the one outside. Geto had a couple of his designs up on the wall along with a couple band posters—Nirvana, Iron Maiden, and Led Zeppelin being some of the more prominent ones. A couple figures placed on a shelf, photos decorating them as well.  "Go on and take a seat. I'll be right there," he told you, opening up one of his drawers.

You took a seat on the leather chair in the middle of the chair, leaning against it before looking over to see what he was doing. "So.. how bad is it supposed to hurt?" You decided to ask, bracing yourself for the worst answer that he could give you. Despite the fact that you knew arm tattoos weren't all that painful from the two hours of research you'd done. "I can't give you a straightforward answer since not everyone has the same pain tolerance. But I'll walk you through the process before I start."

"The first thing I'm gonna do is shave your arm," Geto started off, opening up a pack of razors in front of you. Almost like he wanted to reassure you that everything he was using was new. "Around what area do you want the tattoo?" You opened your arm, gesturing around your inner forearm. Geto shaved the hair around the middle, wiping the residue away with a tissue.

"Next thing I'm gonna do is rub some alcohol on there and put on this cream," he brought up a small container into your line of vision, "It's not numbing cream before you get any ideas. Just so the stencil sticks." The rest of the process had gone relatively fast, the smell of rubbing alcohol filling up the space between the two of you. Geto placed the stencil on your arm, looking over at you to gauge your reaction. "Is this placement okay or do you want me to change it? Don't hesitate to ask, since y'know.. it is kinda permanent."

After a couple minutes of deliberation, Suguru placed the stencil where you’d decided. "So I'm gonna go ahead and put the needle on your arm just to go ahead and see if you can tolerate it," the machine whirred to life with the press of a button, "If you don't think you can tolerate it, just let me know and I'll wipe off the stencil." Geto turned around to face you, the buzzing of the tattoo gun getting louder the closer it got to your arm. All the nerves that you'd felt earlier seemed so silly now. While you felt the pressure of the needle , it was nothing like the excruciating pain you'd heard others have.

You cleared your throat before looking back over at him again, "Yeah, I can handle it." Suguru simply nodded, uncapping the bottle of black ink before almost filling up the small container in front of him. He arranged the small containers almost perfectly aligned to each other, the small work space that he'd set in front of him looking meticulous. Even the napkin that he'd grabbed was neatly folded up in three squares.

You'd almost wished that it was Choso doing the tattoo instead. Because, this, well this simply just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how he managed to look so goddamn pretty just doing the most menial of tasks. The almost intoxicating scent of amber from his cologne filling up your senses with how close he was. You weren't sure if was better or worse for you that he didn't notice just how affected you were, of how much his presence alone was making you want to ditch the whole idea of getting a tattoo.

"You need something to help you relax? I got a couple stress balls hanging around or I could play something on the TV if you want," Suguru sat down on the rolling chair next to you, already grabbing the TV remote next to you. "Can you just play something, please?" Geto flickered through a couple of the channels available, settling on what was on the TV mounted outside. Not particularly your first choice, but enough to get your mind off the tattoo, at least.

And to get your mind off the very attractive man next to you trying to do his job.

"So, any meaning behind this tattoo or you just decided you wanted to get it?" Suguru broke the silence, though his focus was purely on tracing the piece of work in front of him. "Just saw it on Pinterest and I related to it a bit. Well, that and the design itself seemed pretty to me," you offered, staying still and keeping your attention on the TV. "I can follow the design that you showed me or I could try to improve on it. That is, if you have trust in my abilities," he spoke up after a couple seconds, purple eyes almost seeming to bore into you.

"Can I see some of your abilities in place?" As hot as the man was—you didn't want to risk the tattoo coming out like complete dog shit. Suguru let out a short laugh, getting up from his spot before flipping through a couple drawers. He came back with a leather bound sketchbook, placing it on your lap. "I'm not much to show my works to others, but feel free to flip around if that helps you decide," you opened up the sketchbook with your available arm, immediately being greeted with a plethora of colors.

Not only were the pieces themselves better than what you could've expected, but they were so realistic. The shading of each drawing accentuating it perfectly against the lighting of the room, almost like he'd focused on that more than the actual drawing. You shut the sketchbook after flipping through a couple pages of different flowers, animals, and whatever else his brain could conjure up—handing it back to an expectant Geto. "It'd be wrong not to have faith in you after seeing that," you mused, watching him set the sketchbook aside before he went back to tracing.

"Don't worry, I'm still gonna follow the whole outline and shit. Just wanna make it look a little bit better is all," he responded, dipping the needle onto the container of black ink before bringing it back to your arm. You turned to look at much progress he'd done after the forty minute episode had ended only to realize he was just finishing up with the tip of the design. An incredibly detailed tip, though. "You okay? Don't want you passing out on me or anything."

"No, I'm fine," you reassured, going back to watching the TV in the comfortable silence that had built in the room. The only sounds emanating from the room were the soft whirring of the tattoo gun and the screaming of a couple characters on screen. "Have you watched this before?" You decided to break the silence after a while, turning to look over at him. "Something like that. Haven't watched much after the fourth season. Don't really have a buncha time available to watch TV."

The rest of the session had gone moderately well, the two of you sitting in silence for a majority of the time albeit for a couple questions that either he or you asked. He was, oddly enough, easy to talk to. "Okay, I'm gonna go in with a white paint. It's gonna hurt more than the other one so just tell me if it gets to be too much," he told you, pouring white paint into one of those small containers. And you felt the difference between the two, looking over to see him adding small marks with the white paint. Small marks that were starting to hurt like a motherfucker.

"Easy, you did so well for me throughout the session. This is nothing compared to that," Suguru spoke up, raising the tattoo gun to give you a small break. One of his gloved hands went to the furrow settled in your brow, gently easing it over before changing out the gloves for a fresh pair. You weren't even sure when you'd even started to grimace so badly. "Easy for you to say," you grumbled underneath your breath, certain that he wouldn't have caught it. But if the way his eyes shot up to look at you with a slightly amused smile was anything to go by, he did.

"You make it so hard to be nice to you," Geto muttered, turning the tattoo gun back on and going back to adding the fine white strokes. Maybe it'd been the fact that he'd offered that small bit of reassurance or maybe it was the fact that you could feel the session was starting to come to an end, but the pain didn't quite feel as bad as the first go. "Alright, we're all done," he spoke up after a couple minutes, turning the tattoo gun off and placing it on the table next to him.

"You mind if I get a couple pictures?" He waited for you to nod before setting up the ring light next to you, pulling his phone out. You extended your arm out to where he had the camera pointed, the tattoo on display. "Mm, hold on," Suguru muttered to himself, one of his hands wrapping around your wrist to adjust the angle. His touch almost seeming to linger more than necessary. Surely, all of this wasn't necessary just for a single photo, right? Especially when you weren't even the subject of said photo.

"You're gonna want to avoid shaving or waxing the area while it's still healing, some peeling's normal but just come to me if you have any concerns," he continued to explain the process of the aftercare involved, wrapping the tattoo up in cling wrap. "Try not to fuck it up," Geto led you over to the front desk, ringing you up for the price. "Wasn't it $120 and not $100?" You questioned, grabbing your wallet from your pocket.

"Consider it a birthday discount of sorts, pretty girl," the nickname spilled out so easily that you might've almost missed it. As if you needed more things to overthink about from this encounter. You handed him a hundred dollar bill with a ten dollar tip, giving him a short thanks before leaving the parlor. You looked over at the aftercare sheet that he'd given you at the counter, seeing his Instagram scrawled out in pretty decent penmanship. Well, at least you had plans for when you got back to your apartment tonight.

You knew that the tattoo was healing nicely—that you'd put the expensive ass ointment that Geto had recommended the designated three times a day. So why exactly did you find yourself standing outside the tattoo parlor once more? Out of concern for the new ink or just wanting to see Suguru once more? It couldn't be the latter, right? Not like you'd spent hours scrolling through his Instagram these last couple days to see what he'd thought about the tattoo. Definitely not the latter.

After all, he did say come to him if you had any concerns.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Choso to greet you at the counter this time around. Suguru was standing there, rearranging a couple pieces of body jewelry onto the glass display before he lifted his head to see who'd walked in the door. "You didn't let it get infected, did you? I spent hours on that thing," he didn't even bother with a greeting as Choso had done, already looking annoyed at the prospect. "Your concern for my health's endearing too."

"Yeah, yeah, what're you here for?"

"I just wanted to check up with you to see if the tattoo was healing nicely," the practiced lie slipped out of your tongue without any effort, plenty of rehearsals in your head allowing for it to slip out with any second thought.

"Alright, I have a couple minutes before my next appointment gets here," Suguru gestured for you to join him, opening the door for you. The space looked pretty much the same as the day you'd come in—which you should've expected, since it was only a week ago—albeit for a couple pencils scattered on top of a sketchbook in the middle of his desk. You took a seat on the leather chair, waiting for him to finish cleaning up his space.

Suguru grabbed a white box of gloves, grabbing a pair before placing them on. "So, what're you concerned about?" He questioned, long fingers running through your skin as he looked at how the tattoo was healing. "Well, it's been peeling a bit. I just wanted to know if that was normal or if I'm fucking something up somehow. I've been putting on the ointment you recommended three times a day."

Geto let out a small hum before leaning back on the rolling chair, folding his arms across his chest. His very muscular arms, the material of his black button down practically straining against them with the motion. "Your tattoo seems to healing well. Bit of peeling's normal as a new layer of skin comes in, nothing to worry about too much. Usually the area starts to get red if it's starting to get infected."

And maybe you should've taken that as a cue to leave. But you found yourself wanting to bask in whatever couple seconds that he would give you, unable to think about any other opportunities where you'd see him. Well, any other opportunities that didn't involve you spending upwards of a hundred dollars. You made no effort to move just yet, folding your hands over your lap. Trying to think of anything else to prolong this visit.

A couple moments of silence pass between the two of you before Suguru opens his mouth up to speak, only to get interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Yo, someone named Larue's here for their appointment," Choso called out from the other side, his foot tapping against the hardwood floor. Suguru gives you a glance before answering back, "Ask him to reschedule. Tell him that I'm sorry and I'll give him a discount or something."

Choso's heavy boots echoed against the floor as he walked away, leaving you alone with Geto once more. "So, tell me, what exactly is it that you're doing here again? And don't lie to me, talking about some 'I wanna see if my tattoo's healing properly,'" And you almost rolled your eyes at the way he raised his voice in pitch, mocking you with a short chuckle. Almost.

"First of all, I don't sound like that. Second, I really did just come to see if it was healing properly," And despite your words, you couldn't bring yourself to move from the chair just yet. "So maybe I should go tell Larue to come back for his appointment. Since we determined your tattoo's healing nicely, our time's done," You would've thought that he was bluffing but he moved to get up from his chair, walking over to the door.

"Wait," you called out before he managed to turn the doorknob, looking over to see him already staring at you with an expectant look on his face. Like he was about five seconds away from telling you to get off the leather chair. "So maybe, there's a slight chance that I didn't just come here just because I was concerned about my tattoo," you muttered almost reluctantly, avoiding looking at him directly.

"And why don't you try telling me why you came here instead?" Suguru stepped away from the door, returning to his spot in the seat next to you. Where you couldn't avoid looking at him even if you wanted to. How would you even begin telling him that he's been clouding your mind since last week just from that three hour interaction? That you've refreshed his Instagram page more times than you could count to see what he'd say about the piece?

You gulped, willing for the words to come out before he got the chance to go back to the door again. But you couldn't. Couldn't bring yourself to the potential humiliation that would inevitably come if you had just been delusional about this all along.

"You here because you want me to fuck you?" And the words that you'd struggled to spit out, he'd just said them so bluntly. You were expecting for him to look at you with that same mocking smile from earlier, but he seemed to be genuinely analyzing you. Waiting. "No, no, of course, I was just here to.." You hadn't quite rehearsed for this part in your mind.

"Because if you were, then I'd say that I was thinking about you too, cutie," and before you had the chance to respond, he was already speaking again, "So I'm just gonna ask you again. Are you here because you want me to fuck you?"

Now that there was little chance of your advances getting rejected, the word slipped out so easily, "Yes."

"Go on and lay back for me. Wanna taste you," and by how quick he was to get on his knees in front of you, you'd guess that he was doing this for his pleasure more than yours. "Lift up your hips," you followed his words without hesitation, letting him slide your jeans off and place them to the side. Large tattooed hands spread your thighs apart, presenting you like a feast to the man before you.

And you would've felt some ounce of embarrassment for the wet spot that quickly built up in the middle of your panties in just the five minutes of being here—if it weren't for the fact that Geto's cock was already straining against the material of his jeans. "Mph, fuck!" Geto quickly pulled your attention back to the issue at hand, his tongue prodding against your clothed cunt. "Not so loud, you don't want Choso to hear us," he clicked his tongue, giving you somewhat of a relief when he pulled away.

A very short lived relief. His tongue traced the outline of your slick folds through the material of your thin panties, his eyes closed. The tip of his tongue swirled against your clit, your cunt leaking out onto your underwear. You'd be lucky at this rate, if you could wear them back home. And almost like he'd read your mind, his fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties before sliding them down to your ankles.

You waited to feel his tongue on your cunt again—but nothing came. You looked over at him, watching as he just observed your weeping pussy. "Thought you were eager to taste," you muttered, a scoff leaving from his lips. A gust of wind blowing to your cunt, your walls clenching all the much more. Eager to receive whatever he could give. "Let me admire for a bit. We got enough time," Suguru let out a small tsk after, his face in front of your cunt. And before you had the chance to say anything more—his tongue was already on your labia.

Your syrupy slick dripped onto his expecting tongue, his eyes almost rolling back at the taste. The small silver ball at the end of his tongue piercing flicked against your folds with every lick, each touch serving to have you clenching around pure air. Your hips bucked up to meet his movements, his large hands holding you down in mere seconds. "What'd I say? Let me enjoy this, pretty girl. Told you we got enough time."

"Such a tease," your grumbled words came out more breathless than you would've liked. "And you're so impatient," he retorted without missing a beat. A hushed whine escaped from your lips when you felt him pull away, his mouth moving to your inner thighs. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, nibbling down just hard enough for it to leave a mark behind. "Promise I'll take care of you, sweet girl. Have some trust in my abilities."

“You say that but your abilities have been less than stellar lately."

A couple dark locks fell out of place, framing his face almost perfectly. You'd almost expected Suguru to look offended at the implication of your words—but all he did was seem to find some kind of amusement. "Guess I'll have to repair that then," he murmured, more so to your cunt than to you, his tongue prodding in and out of your entrance. "You're not doing a g-Oh fuck!" He immediately made you swallow whatever retort you were planning, his tongue penetrating inside of you.

Suguru swiped his tongue up and down your cunt, the lower half of his face covered in a mixture of your slick and his own spit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the tip of his nose prodding against your clit with every swipe that he made. "Keep looking at me, pretty. Keep those pretty eyes on me," you opened your eyes to see purple eyes already looking back at you, resuming his actions all too greedily. He was so messy when it came to eating you out—spitting into your cunt, watching almost all too eagerly as you clenched around the liquid.

"Please," a whine left your lips, your fingers tugging on his hair. Whatever act of defiance you'd tried to put on earlier had quickly faded away, all you were feeling was need. An almost slutty moan left his lips at the sudden tug, one of his hands grabbing on to yours. "Come on, you can pull harder, can't you?" An even louder groan escaped his lips at the harder tug you gave this time around—the tips of your fingers digging into his scalp. "Now, what were you saying please for?" His words came out muffled, his face buried in between your legs. "Your fingers, please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Suguru took to that almost immediately, two long fingers pushing past the ring of muscle before curling to hit your g-spot. His mouth instantly attached itself to your throbbing clit, pushing through your clitoral hood to get to the bundle of nerves. "F-Fuck, don't stop, don't stop," you sounded like a broken record, your thighs pressing tightly against the sides of his face while his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum," any other thought that you had apart from cumming had been quickly fucked out of you, your grip on his hair tightening even further. Not that Suguru minded by any means, moaning against your cunt with every tug. The vibrations only added to the dual stimulation, your back arching off the chair. Needing to get more. Pushing your hips against his face, bucking up to meet every swipe of his tongue. "Cum for me, princess, come on. You can do it, right?"

All you could do was nod, not wanting to be any louder than you already had been. Part of you had been surprised that Choso hadn't come by knocking earlier. Suguru continued flicking his tongue around your clit, working in synchrony with his fingers to pull your orgasm out of you. "Fuck fuck, gonna cum!" You weren't sure if your muffled moan made it's way into Suguru's ears, watching as he eagerly lapped up your release. Running his tongue across his lips, your slick making them glisten under the lights.

"Get on all fours," Suguru told you after you'd managed to regain your breath, deft fingers working to unzip his jeans. You got on your stomach, resting it against the cold leather while getting on your hands and knees. And if Choso were to come into the room to be quiet now, he'd get a spectacular view of your ass perched up in the air. Suguru ran his cock against your folds, your slick lubricating it with ease after your previous orgasm.

Ridges running down his shaft brushed up against your tight walls, your slick coating his tip like second nature the further that he pushed it in. Your walls clenched and unclenched rapidly in a futile attempt to get used to the pure stretch of his cock. "You can take it, right? This isn't anything," But the sheer girth of his cock was just enough to dispute that statement, the position making him feel much deeper than he was. "Yeah, yeah, I can take it," your voice came out as a mewl, your grip on the leather getting tighter the more he pushed his cock in.

The rhythm that he started up was fairly slow at first, allowing you to get used to the feeling. Whatever he was lacking in length, he certainly compensated for it with the sheer size of his girth. Just a couple inches inside of you and he'd already stuffed you full. "Doin' so good, gonna speed up, okay?" He waited for you to nod, retracting his cock before pushing the full length inside of you with one sharp thrust. Your mouth went agape, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head upon the impact. "So good, so so good," even after a couple thrusts, he already sounded so obsessed.

"That's ittt, that's my girl. Fuck that ass back into me," A strangled groan left his throat at the sight of your ass cheeks jiggling underneath him with every thrust, the two of you moving in tandem. One of the hands that'd been on your waist went to cup whatever he could of the flesh, all too entranced with the vision presented in front of him. "Mm, fuck!" A moan left your lips as you felt the palm of his hand strike against the flesh, your ass stinging from the impact. Not to say that you necessarily hated it, by any means.

And Suguru caught it—the way your slick ran down his shaft at the sudden impact. "Should've fucking guessed you would've liked it," his tone practically dripped in condescension as he spoke, his hand going to cup your other ass cheek. Holding the flesh in his hands before giving you another harsh slap, almost rivaling the harsh smack of his hips against your own. "Shit shit, Geto, don't stop," you whined, pushing your ass back into him. "Think it's okay for you to call me Suguru after bein’ inside you and all."

"Suck," a simple command, two of his fingers in front of your face. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, tasting the remnants of your cum on them before letting it fall flat. Simply sucking on his fingers as his cock pushed in and out of you with such fervor. "Get 'em all nice and wet for me, just like that," Suguru pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth the second you started to get too loud again, tears building up at your waterline when you gagged on them. "Aw, don't cry, cutie. Y'know I had to."

And while his words were meant to be reassuring, the mocking tone of his voice was anything but. Spit dribbled down from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the chair beneath you. "Sugu-Sugu, fuck, right there!" He'd adjusted the angle of his hips, his shaft brushing up against your g-spot with every thrust. "So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was accentuated with a deep thrust of his hips, filling you up impossibly so. Like he wanted to show you just how much he'd been thinking about it, like he claimed he did.

If the moans coming out of you weren't evidence enough as to what was happening in the room, then you were pretty much certain that the plap! plap! echoing through the walls was evidence enough. Geto's heavy balls smacked against your ass with every harsh thrust of his hips. He brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing at the nub just in time for it to match his pace. You clamped around his cock like a vice, a strangled moan leaving out of his lips. "Just had to tell- shit me that you wanted my cum, ma."

"Mph, cumm- I'm cumm-" Muffled babbles left your mouth, your cunt clenching around him yet again. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, his thrusts getting sloppier and faster. Whatever small bits of concern about being too loud had been disregarded—loud squelches and skin clapping filling up the room as Suguru rutted inside of you. You turned your head to look over at him, the sight before you almost like something out of a painting. His hair had completely been released from the half-bun, cascading down his back perfectly and his eyes were closed in pure bliss.

Spurts and spurts of cum shot deep inside of you, his cock twitching as you milked him for whatever he could offer. Suguru pulled his softening cock out of your cunt, his cum starting to dribble out of you and down your thighs. With the same fingers he'd had inside your mouth, he pushed his cum back inside of you. Scooping the substance up with relative ease. Your body slumped against the chair, willing that Geto would give you a couple seconds to catch your breath.

You'd expected him to grab a wipe or a paper towel to clean you up with, but he simply got up from his spot behind you. Grabbing his pants off the floor and fastening up his fly. You looked over at him through half lidded eyes, seeing him pop the fingers that had previously been in your cunt into his mouth. Slurping at them in a similar fashion that you'd done just a couple minutes prior. "Wanna taste yourself, pretty girl? 'S so fucking good."

Geto didn't give you a chance to respond before he was leaning down to your level, one of his fingers underneath your chin to raise your head. He leaned in, his lips pressing against yours in a messy exchange. More of spit getting intertwined than an actual kiss, not that you minded in your state. His tongue flicked against yours, the bittersweet taste of both you and him combined filling your tastebuds. Geto pulled away after a couple seconds, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

You hadn't even finished putting on your pants yet when Suguru spoke up yet again,

"You mind giving me a five star review when you get home?"

[springgirlshowers]

Let Me Show You

Summary: You haven’t been feeling very pretty lately, Joost decides to prove you wrong, and he won’t let you finish until you admit that you are.

CW: negative self talk/self image, tiny bit of crying, body worship, teasing, praise, so much foreplay, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, i use google translate for dutch (im sorry 😭)

WC: 2820

A/N: i wassss gonna wait to post this, but i couldn’t help myself it feels wrong to keep the world waiting </33 challenge: take a shot every time the word “kiss” is said in this fic

You hadn’t been feeling well at all today.

Not in the sick with the flu sort of well, more of just not feeling well with yourself. Not feeling content with yourself.

It started in the morning, when you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Joost was already gone, needing to stop by Teuns to clean up a few songs.

You leaned forwards in the mirror, analyzing your face. Feeling disappointed at it, for some reason, it felt like every single tiny little flaw was extremely noticeable. Every blemish, every bump, every pore, it all felt so much more noticeable.

You pushed at the apple of your cheeks, then leaning away from the mirror to look at your body.

You turned to the side, looking at your stomach and squeezing the flesh. Dropping your arms weakly as you continued to stare at yourself.

You felt ugly. You hated it. You wanted to crawl out of your own body.

Since that was impossible, you threw on a matching pair of gray sweats. Then curling yourself into a ball under the sheets. Hiding away from the world.

About three hours later, you heard the door unlock and the sound of shoes being kicked off. Joost called out your name, stopping once he saw the sight of your back and head on the bed, the rest of you covered up by the duvet.

He knew you were awake, it was only a few minutes after 3PM.

He walked over to your side of the bed, sitting on the edge and smiling at you as he stroked your hair. He could already tell from the look on your face that you were upset.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He spoke softly, eyebrows knit together in concern.

“Nothing, I’m just a bit tired.” You shrugged, Joost let out a breath through his nose, seeing straight through your lie.

Joost was your lover, of course he knew the difference between a tired expression versus a gloomy expression on your face.

“I know it’s not that, schat. Something’s bothering you.” Your eyes darted away for a second, you were trying to decide if you should keep up this act of just being “tired” or be honest.

“It’s really nothing, Joost.”

“You keeping whatever it is bottled up is only gonna make it worse, liefje. Trust me, I would know.” Joost tutted, rubbing your thigh.

He was right, you would know as well. You’ve told him the same thing before when he’d be upset about something.

"I just..." You sighed as you sat up, already feeling embarrassed about your upcoming confession. "I haven't been feeling very pretty lately." Joosts face turned into an immediate frown.

"How? What's not pretty about you?" He sounded almost insulted, insulted by the fact you would think so negatively about you.

"My face looks wrong. My body looks wrong. I’ve got a tummy on me. I don't know. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, I just don't feel attractive." You sighed, dragging your hands down your face.

“We all have a tummy. I’ve got a tummy.” He poked his stomach, smiling looking at it and then back up at you.

You shook your head as an amused smile spread on your face, you pulled the duvet off the rest of your body due to the heat becoming uncomfortable.

“You know what I mean, Joost.” You silently groaned and put your face into your hands.

“I do. But I don’t care.” Joosts voice was smooth as he removed your hands from your face, your eyes were already watering, he let out a sympathetic hum.

“You might not think it. But you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You knew Joost was telling the truth. Anytime he would look at you, he felt like he was looking at an a real life angel sent by God himself.

You were just too far deep in the rabbit hole of your negative self talk.

Tears began to slip from your eyes and you turned your head away, Joost still had his hands cupped lightly around your face.

“I’m sorry. You know I don’t look pretty when I cry.” You sniffled, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “My face gets all pink and blotchy.”

Joost gently turned your face back to him, taking in all your beautiful features.

“I love your face. Even if it’s all pink and blotchy.” His words got a small laugh out of you, he grinned .

“You really think so?” You asked, voice still shaky.

“I know so.” He wiped away another tear from your cheek with his thumb. This was cliché, but you loved it. You loved him.

“I can prove it to you, if you want?” Joost raised his brows, you knew exactly what he was suggesting. You nodded happily.

He quickly put his lips against yours, kissing so passionately. So sweetly.

“I wanna make a deal, ja?” Joost said in between kisses. You nodded.

“I’m gonna show you how beautiful you are.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “I’m going to tell you, show you until you know it’s true.” He kisses the other side. “And then…you’re gonna tell me how pretty you are, then I’ll make you cum. Ja?”

“Joost..” You mumbled out, flustered already.

“You okay with that deal?” He kissed your lips gently, brushing some hair out your face.

“Okay. Okay. We have a deal.” You giggled, eyes closing.

“Good.” He smiled, the type of smile that made you feel like you could melt straight into the sheets. He kissed you one more time before moving his lips along your jaw.

He moved his hand, rubbing his thumb softly over your bottom lip.

“You know how much I love your lips.” He ran his mouth along your jaw, before moving to hover his face over yours.

“And your nose. This cute little nose.” He gave you a peck just on the tip of your nose, tapping it after and making a little boop! noise.

His antics got a small sniffle and laugh out of you. God, he was so silly. So unserious in such an intimate moment like this. You loved it. It made your nervousness fade away.

He moved to kiss both your eyelids next, so silly.

“Your eyes, I could stare into them all day if you didn’t think it was so creepy.” He chuckled. “Zo mooi. Ik zie je gezicht in mijn dromen.” He whispered, quickly moving his mouth to your neck. Your breath hitched as he placed sloppy kisses all over it.

His mouth ran over that sweet spot that made you let out a soft whimper, you could feel his smirk against your skin.

“Mijn mooie meisje.” His breath against your neck tickled, making you inch away from it.

His hands began to slide underneath your baggy sweatshirt, sliding up and down before going up one last time and bringing your sweatshirt with him.

He soon did the same with your sweatpants as he moved his lips along your collarbones, you lifted your lips to help remove them. He tossed them on the floor, along with your top.

He pulled away from your skin to look at you in complete awe. You were a bit embarrassed due to your extremely plain underwear, you didn’t bother to put on a bra this morning. If you knew you’d be getting intimate today, you would’ve worn something nicer.

Yet Joost didn’t care, his face didn’t care at all. Still staring at you like you were a dream come true. You were.

“Can’t believe you’d want to hide such a gorgeous body like this.” He grazed his fingers down your arm, grabbing your hand and lifting it up to your mouth, kissing your knuckles.

Your hands came up unconsciously to conceal your chest. Joost didn’t let this happen. He intertwined his hands with each of yours, holding them against the mattress.

“Aw, no hiding. I wanna see these pretty tits of yours.” You bit your lip and turned your head away, surprised at his explicit words.

He quickly brought his lips to your chest, kissing all over it. Between the valley of your breasts, above and below them. Finally placing his mouth on one of them.

A sharp gasp let out of you, Joost chuckled against you. Sucking and nipping at your breast, leaving red and purpling hickies.

He took your nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch your back slightly, he moved one hand to your other breast. Squeezing and playing with it for a little before switching his mouths attention to that one.

He didn’t need words to tell you how much he loved your tits. The messy kisses from his mouth were enough.

He ignored the way his dick was hardening in his pants at the sounds of your whimpers and breaths of pleasure. This evening, he was focusing on you, and you only.

He trailed his lips down, stopping at your stomach. He dragged his hands down, sliding them to the sides of your waist and squeezing, making you shiver.

“You know how much I love your tummy. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve fallen asleep when I lay my head on it.” He pressed a kiss just below your bellybutton. “Such a cute stomach, I don’t get how you could be so embarrassed of such a beautiful tummy like this.”

You weren’t sure how your stomach could be beautiful. But then you remembered all the times you thought the same about Joosts, going insane over the sight of it.

“All day all I do is want to hold you. I dream about it when I’m away. Did you know that?” He looked up at you, he looked like a goddamn dream.

You shook your head and he gave you a dramatic pout.

“No? I guess I should’ve told you sooner.” He moved his hands and squeezed your hips, another giggle escaped you.

He trailed small, slow, pecks above the waistband of your underwear. Soon hooking his fingers underneath and pulling them down your legs. Kissing your thighs as he did so.

He parted your legs with gentle hands, letting out a coo of adoration at the sight of you. You blushed and bit your finger, turning your head to the side.

He brought a tattooed hand back up to the side of your face, turning your gaze back to him as his thumb smoothed over your cheek.

He smiled at you with a face of pure infatuation. Not needing words to say how he felt about you once again.

He leaned down, eloping his lips around yours as you brought your head up from the pillow, pushing into the kiss.

A finger came up to your clit, gathering your wetness, you let a shaky breath into his mouth.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. Making a beeline of kisses all the way down until his mouth stopped right above your clit.

He held onto your thighs, bringing them up and squeezing the plush of them in his hands, bending your legs.

“Oh, so soft. I’d live in between your legs if you let me.”

“Naughty boy.” You giggled.

“Just being truthful.” He shrugged, he watched in adoration as he rubbed his middle finger in between your folds, his finger already covered in your slick. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He carefully inserted his finger inside you, staring at your face with a smile, watching how your mouth parted, eyes fluttering.

He came back up as his finger slowly pushed in and out, watching your face up close as he inserted a second finger.

“You ready to tell me what you are? Hm?” You tried your best to look at him as you let out a whiny moan. Which was your way of saying “Not really.”

“No? Then I should stop here, ja?” His fingers slowly began to pull out.

“Nononono. Pleasepleaseplease.” You breathed out, grabbing his hand to keep it from fully pulling away. He let out a defeated sigh.

“You’re lucky you’re so stunning. I’ll let you get away with it for now.” He kissed your cheek.

You let go of his wrist as his fingers began to pick up their pace once again, your eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting will small gasps.

He moved his mouth back to your chest, sucking at your tits, leaving little lovebites, you knew you’d be covered in red and purple marks by tomorrow.

He continued that same pattern of kissing trailing down until he reached your cunt.

“Cmon liefje, I need you to tell me how beautiful you are.” He rubbed his head against your thigh.

You shook your head as you bit down on your lip, eyes squeezing shut, you were already close to an orgasm.

“Hm, if you’re not gonna tell me, then I guess we’ll stop here.” He shrugged, puffing out his bottom lip as he removed his fingers from you.

“No!” You whined out at the sudden emptiness, cunt clenching around nothing. “Joost, you’re being mean.” You whined, hips squirming.

“Mm, I’m being fair. You tell me you’re pretty and I will let you cum.” He flicked a finger quickly against your clit, he grinned at the way your body jerked.

“Just admit what we both know is true.” He said in a sing-song voice. You rolled your eyes, frustrated.

“If you just tell me then I’ll give you want you want, liefje.” He teased again.

“Fine. I’m pretty.” You mumbled, you saw the way Joosts face perked up.

“Speak up schatje, I cannot hear you.” He could hear you, but he wanted to hear you loud and clear.

“I’m pretty.” You said, much louder this time.

“How pretty?” He cocked his head in a mocking manner, resting it against the plush of your thigh as his fingers slowly increased their speed.

Was he really doing this? Bastard.

“Really pretty. Fuck- I’m really pretty.” You said through shaky breaths.

“Ja, keep going.” He encouraged, licking a stripe up your cunt as his fingers pumped into you, and you whined again, he loved how flustered you looked.

He was eating you out like a man starved, his tongue deep and swirling circles around your clit, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to speak any coherent words.

“I’m pretty. God, fuck- I’m really pretty, Joost.” Your back began to arch off the bed, your hand reaching down to grip his hair as he hummed against your core.

“I’m so pretty, Joost. So so pretty, please. I’m beautiful, god. Fuck. Please, I’m pretty.” You begged, repeating it like it was a mantra. This was exactly Joosts goal.

“Dat klopt.” He pulled away from you to praise, his breath fanning against your cunt before he attached his lips back to it, beginning to suck on your clit.

Joost held onto your hips to still them. Your legs began to shake and the moans leaving you were borderline pornographic, loud and dramatic. But they were real, not forced.

“Joost, please, Joost. I’m pretty. Please can I cum? Please?” You begged, tears forming in your eyes. All the teasing before this made you so sensitive.

“Go ahead.” The vibration of his voice added to the pleasure, his fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot.

Finally, finally you were cumming. The waves of your orgasm crashing over you, the intensity making the tears in your eyes fall and trail down the sides of your face. Joost continued as you rode through the aftershock, squealing and crying out as your grip on his hair tightened. He moaned against your dripping core.

He finally pulled away once your moans became raspy and you were squirming around. His chin covered in your wetness while he had the most prideful cheesy grin on his face.

“Mijn prachtige meisje. You did so good. So good for me.” He whispered against your skin, pressing small kisses all around your pussy and onto your thighs. Your body twitched with each peck, already overstimulated from all the teasing he did.

He crawled back up to hover over you, wiping the tears that fell with a gentle hand. A saccharine smile on his face to match the saccharine kiss he gave you next. You were still so shaky and out of breath, eyes droopy as you looked at him.

“Feel any better?” He ran his fingers through your hair, scratching at your head, you leaned into his touch.

“Yeah…actually. Yeah.” You gave him a puzzled smile, not expecting this to actually work.

“See. I knew you’d try for me.” He smooched your forehead.

“I’m really sweaty, I need a bath.” You laughed, still breathless.

“I’ll run you one.” He sighed playfully, knowing that your words were a request.

“Will you carry me?” He let out another chuckle, shaking his head in amusement before scooping you up bridal style.

“I can never say no to you.”

[anniebeemine]

Hii. I couldn’t get reid and lila kissing episode out of my mind lol, can i request a fic with spencer getting interrupted (/kissed) while he’s rambling about something that annoyed him at work.. he’s so annoyed that he just keep talking but also keep kissing the reader back everytime until he’s just ‘wait why r u kissing me rn im literally so annoyed????’ but then he continues kissing her anyway lol. You can write however you want though! Love your fics so muuuuch!!!!!

i think about that scene at least twice a week (my roman empire tbh)

warnings: kithing

Spencer paced the length of your living room, his hands gesturing wildly as he ranted about whatever had set him off at work that day. “—And can you believe they didn’t cross-check the fingerprints before starting the entire interview process? It’s such a basic step in protocol. I mean, we wasted hours, hours, running in circles!”

You watched him, nodding sympathetically from your spot on the couch, though you could hardly get a word in between his breathless, frustrated tirade. He was adorable like this, completely wrapped up in his thoughts, even when he was annoyed. His brow furrowed, lips moving a mile a minute as he laid out every little detail of the day that had irritated him to no end.

“…It’s not even like it’s the first time, either! You’d think after all this time working together, we’d have this stuff down, but no, apparently—”

He paused as you stood up and crossed the room to where he was pacing. You had this urge to just... kiss him, mid-rant, to break through that whirlwind of frustration. Spencer glanced at you but didn’t stop talking. “—apparently, no one knows how to follow through with the simplest procedures anymore, and it’s not like I’m—"

Before he could finish, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed your lips to his, cutting off his next string of words. For a second, Spencer froze, mid-sentence, but then his lips moved instinctively, kissing you back without missing a beat.

You pulled back slightly, but his brain hadn’t quite caught up yet, and he kept talking. “—asking for perfection, just a little—”

You kissed him again.

This time, he melted a bit, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist. But just as you thought you had him completely, he pulled back, blinking, still distracted by the cloud of irritation hanging over him. “Wait, why are you kissing me right now?”

You grinned, biting back a laugh. “Maybe I thought kissing you might help.”

Spencer blinked at you again, clearly processing this new development. “Help... with what?”

“With getting you to stop ranting and relax for two seconds,” you teased, your hands still resting on his chest. “You were getting worked up, so I thought maybe I’d try to calm you down a bit.”

His frown deepened for a second, like he was trying to figure out whether or not he should continue being annoyed, but then he sighed. “I mean, I’m still frustrated about it, but…”

You leaned in, kissing him again, cutting him off before he could dive back into his complaints. He groaned softly, his hands slipping to your back, and after a moment, he gave in, his lips soft and warm against yours.

But then he pulled away again, furrowing his brows. “I really shouldn’t be kissing you right now. I’m so irritated.”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured, pressing your lips to his again, and this time, he didn’t pull back.

He kissed you deeply, hands gripping your waist now, his frustration slowly ebbing away as he lost himself in the warmth of your embrace. When you finally broke apart, he sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his tone much calmer now. “That... kind of worked.”

You grinned. “I told you it would.”

He huffed a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You really know how to distract me, you know that?”

“Anytime you’re annoyed,” you whispered, trailing a finger down his chest, “I’ll be here to help.”

Spencer gave you a small, amused smile, finally letting go of the frustration he’d carried with him all evening. “Okay. I think I’m officially done being annoyed.”

“Good,” you teased, leaning in for one last kiss. “Now, what were you saying?”

He shook his head, smiling against your lips. “I don’t even remember.”

And with that, the conversation shifted into something far more pleasant than his earlier rambling, Spencer finally letting go of the day’s annoyances, and choosing to focus on you instead.

[smallpwbbles]

Learning

Finally got this one-shot finished, I know I keep talking about how I don't expect these stories to be as long as they are when I start writing but I am just flabbergasted I could write 9k in two days. Uni pebbles could never.

Anyway take this fic going over some of Maria and biolizard Shadow's time on the ARK

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Maria Robotnik knew many things about herself, her favourite colour was blue, she loved to read and draw, she’d prefer to pour the milk in her bowl before the cereal cause it’d get soggy faster otherwise and she really loved to look out the windows of the ARK observatory. 

The planet earth looked like such a small little thing from the view she was granted, but as she stood in the gigantic room, aboard the space colony, the little blue ball of earth gave her hope. Hope that someday she’d be away from the machinery and labs that did nothing but fill her with apprehension. 

She yearned for the many things her grandfather Gerald told her stories about, to feel the grass between her feet, to smell the air of the oceans. These fantasies made her feel warm and filled her with that hope, but woefully, Maria knew one other thing about herself. 

She was sick.

Maria Robotnik was a victim of disease and it slowly worked to hinder the small hope she garnered as she looked out the windows of the observatory. With every burst of excitement that came as Gerlad told his stories of the earth, came the concerning reminders of her sickness as she felt her lungs strain when she overworked herself. Maria wished she could run without feeling like her legs would collapse on her at any second, or sleep a good night's rest without worrying she’d wake up with a fever. 

But it was sad to say, she had to make due with these things. Maria believed this would be the routine of her life, until she was informed about her grandfather's latest project, she heard many of his scientists rave and rant about this project when Gerald didn’t think she was listening in. But Maria was a sneaky little thing when she wanted to be, unfortunately the most she was able to gather were inklings of a “ultimate life form”, whatever that meant. 

Her interest boiled over when her grandfather sat her down one night, he was absolutely buzzed with excitement and told her of all his findings, research and effort to find a cure for illness. Maria felt despondent when it came to her sickness, it was a horrible, disgusting, parasitic thing that was taking everything from her, but she was beginning to come to a sort of term where she’d just live with it. Her grandfather had already been doing so much with no results so she couldn’t help her apathy towards Gerald’s enthusiasm.

Though it did have something to do with that ultimate life form thing she had eavesdropped on, the perfect being that would have all the answers to all diseases? She didn’t doubt that her grandfather could do amazing with his intelligence, they were Robotniks! It was in their DNA to do great things. But the idea of something that could achieve feats as grand as curing all diseases was quite ludicrous. Maria kept that to herself as she didn’t want to curb her grandfather's elation. 

There wasn’t much on the project for her after that, Maria kept on with her stagnant life for many months, going from the usuals rounds of feeling normal to sudden long visits to the infirmary. It was a sad existence and Maria knew this, but it was the only existence she knew for herself. Maybe it was quite crazy to think this but better her than anyone else, she wouldn’t wish such a life on her worst enemy. 

The blond girl walked down the long corridors of the labs, she wasn’t really allowed to do so without permission but what her grandfather and the scientists didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. The corridors were dull and grey, she wished Gerald would allow her to maybe put up some drawings or just some cute decor, it did get boring walking down such drab walls. She was talking it slow as she was recovering from a recent fall, Maria had no idea what caused the spike in her temperature and neither did the scientists, it amazed her how quick her body could be to hinder itself.

The steely doors to Gerald’s private lab were presented in front of her, she pressed an ear to the door, lately when she took to creeping around the labs she could hear rushed voices and shuffling about, it was clear there was something pretty important happening as of late, Gerald had been quite absent from the recreation rooms and just in general. The last time she’d seen him was a couple days ago and he had that look she’d seen before, he was about to break through with something, she was sure. 

The code box to the right of the doors tempted her, she knew the code. A peek into his labs wouldn’t hurt. 

Maria meticulously entered her birthdate with the right keys, she was sure literally everyone knew the code but didn’t enter into restricted areas out of respect for principle. The doors slid apart and Maria felt a cold air flow around her body, there was nobody in the lab which worked heavily in her favour. 

Her heels clicked as she walked into the labs, there were notes strewn about and many coffee cups standing or thrown on top of the worktops, the amount of cups she saw told her an unhealthy amount of coffee was consumed in this room, however what caught her immediate attention was the middle of the room, she’d been the private lab before and was never presented with the gigantic test tube flowing with whatever green liquid was in there. 

The most important discovery of her observation was a little creature floating in the tube. Maria hesitantly approached the glass cylinder to get a closer look, the little thing was a hedgehog of sorts? Maria couldn’t safely say that as the little greyish black creature was full of a lot of red scales and had quite a long tail, almost as big as its entire torso. Though there  was one thing she couldn’t deny about the creature, it was stinking adorable.

“Maria?!” A voice yelled behind her, she felt her heart leap into her throat as she whipped around to find the source of the yell. Gerald was standing in front of the doors, he held a coffee cup in his wrinkly hand and looked absolutely swamped. “What are you doing here?! I was so worried when your caretaker said she couldn’t find you” 

“Oh- uh, Grandfather I’m sorry I just-“ her words fumbled about, she didn’t really have a good reason for being in here other than she got bored and missed her grandfather “I just… haven’t seen you in a bit and was wondering what the fuss was in your lab”

The old man sighed, he wasn’t mad at her, just concerned she was missing in the entire ark for a moment, he was just realising how scarce he himself had become from Maria and felt a tiny bit like a hypocrite “I apologise Maria, it’s just been quite hectic with the project”. 

“Are you the one with all these empty coffee cups grandfather” she questioned, the old man blushed at the accusation as he also hadn’t realised the ridiculous amount of caffeine he’d consumed in the past week let alone the past day, he decided he wouldn’t worry Maria with that fact though. 

“No, just the one” he shook the paper cup in his hand with emphasis. 

Maria seemed satisfied with that answer and turned her eyes back to the tube. Gerald hoped he could present this project when it was actually ready but he overestimated his granddaughter's patience. He walked to join Maria in front of the glass tube and put a hand to its surprisingly warm exterior.

“This, Maria, is project shadow” he announced, the little creature in the tube twitched at his voice but made no other movements, its eyes were screwed shut, it would move its head every so often slightly to the noises of the machinery that surrounded the labs. It scrunched up its itty bitty snout and Maria fought with the power of her ancestors to hold back a squeal. 

“This is to be your ultimate perfect creature grandfather?” The blond girl looked up at the old scientist, her tone sounded incredulous to Gerald.

“All that and more Maria, what do you think?” The scientist asked.

“Well that makes sense, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life” Maria concluded.

Gerald raised a brow “Maria, my darling, it’s not the perfect creature because it’s cute”. While Gerald could agree his creature was small and therefore looked seemingly harmless, he felt a bit defensive at the idea that he had worked these many months to make a creature with the grand potential this one contained only to have it be called “cute”.

“Grandfather if you didn’t want me calling it cute you shouldn’t have made it cute” the girl lightly chided, she was just riling up the old man but she then watched as the tiny thing yawned, it had one little fang poking out of its gums and she almost started crying at the absolute adorableness of the tiny hedgehog, lizard thing.

“It has not finished growing Maria, we’re currently having Shadows growth accelerated as we are quite behind on the time frame of the project” Gerald explained.

“Shadow?” Maria looked to her grandfather “is that what your calling it” she asked 

“I think it’s quite a fitting name, its fur is actually going to look much darker in the next coming months” Gerald felt a bit shaken from all the caffeine he’d consumed and was going to double check on the validity of that claim later. 

“Shadow” she repeated as she watched the small thing float in the tube, she’d only just met the creature, but she loved him. Maria couldn’t explain the feeling that began warming her heart as she watched the infant in the tube, but she was reminded of how she felt when she looked down at the blue planet from time to time. 

It was that feeling that reminded her that not all was hopeless.

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Maria thanked the lady, who was entrusted with the duty of cafeteria leader today, as she was handed a few chocolate chip cookies. The plump lady was called Barb, she believed. Maria did her best to remember everyone she could on the ARK but her little 11 year old brain could only remember so many names. 

Barb was her favourite in the cafeteria because when Maria was on her best behaviour she’d be rewarded with treats from the kind lady, though today, as she carefully deposited the cookies in her pockets, she knew the treats would be of need for emergency use.

Shadow had grown considerably in the many months after Maria invited herself to Gerald’s lab and met the black creature for the first time. As an infant he wasn’t much bigger than her hands, and from time to time Gerald would give special permission for Shadow to be allowed out of his tube for closer inspection and testing. Once Maria had the chance to hold the tiny thing, she cradled him like a baby as he cooed and hiccuped in her arms. She thought she would ascend to heaven on the spot, he really was the cutest thing. 

Unfortunately he had grown too fast and much too big for her to do such a thing now, he was also a very quick learner as Shadow was quite cognizant, it was like there was a fast forward on the creature's ability to learn as he picked up on things just from observing. Teaching Shadow basic knowledge was a breeze for Gerald and his scientists and so it was for Maria, she mainly taught Shadow his manners and how to pull the perfect puppy doe eyes to sway people to get what you want. 

Maria loved discovering the facets of the little hedgehog’s personality, he soaked up the praise of all the scientists and other people aboard the ark when he did something asked of him successfully, Shadow didn’t talk much but Maria was sure if he did he’d be bragging a lot as he was starting to get a bit of an ego. 

The blond girl patted at the cookies in her pocket as she made her way to her accommodations, the current emergency she tasked herself with solving was due Shadows hubris ending up getting him into trouble, he’d recently joined Maria in her private studies with Gerald. The little creature was smart and Maria couldn’t deny that but she wouldn't say he was smarter than her grandfather. Shadow thought otherwise as the lesson she thought she’d be fighting sleep to get through turned into two people trying to one up the other.

The black hedgehog lizard stubbornly tried to correct the old man on a simple innocuous problem that Gerald wrote on the black board for him and Maria to solve. The scientist however was just as stubborn as he stood his ground that the answer he’d written next to the problem, right after Maria gave up on it, was in fact correct and Shadow needed to knock it off. It had been amusing at first watching the little hedgehog wipe off the chalk and rewrite the answer but as the two kept bickering, Maria just wanted to slam her face into her desk. How she wished she snuck in her sketchpad into today's lesson.

Shadow had edged towards a tantrum and absolutely lost his nerve when Maria intervened and begged him to give up in his pursuit to be right. Gerald had just face palmed when the hedgehog ran away clearly feeling ganged up on “I put way too much of us robotnik's into that boy”.

Maria had to agree, because now she was in her room trying to coax Shadow out from under her bed. The little guy always hid out under her berth when he was upset, Maria could recall doing so herself at a younger age. Despite probably being mad at the blond girl for not taking his side, he couldn’t help but seek out comfort in the darkness from underneath her bed.

“Shadow? Won’t you come out please” Maria begged, she bent down and poked a hand under the covers that hid the darkness underneath her bed, in response Shadow swiped at her fingers as she quickly pulled them back. She noticed his claws were unsheathed when he swiped, he was clearly really upset. 

“Sorry, sorry I won’t make you come out if you don’t want to” the girl apologised, she did however retrieve a cookie from her pocket and placed it right in front of the space Shadow was occupying, she sat on her knees patiently and waited to see if he’d take the bait. 

She watched as a clawed furred and scaly hand slowly revealed itself from the darkness, it quickly swiped at the cookie and brought it into the darkness. Maria waited a few seconds, it usually took Shadow a minute to come out of the covers after being given a bribe. 

Just as she had predicted, Shadow poked out his head to make eye contact with her, his face seemed a little red and his muzzle was tear stained. She opened up her arms inviting Shadow to come into her embrace. 

The little creature hesitated for a second before nearly bowling her over with how quickly he crawled into her arms, Maria brought her arms to cradle to him, he certainly wasn’t a baby anymore as he came up to about her waist height wise but she couldn’t help but still try cradle him like one, she even rocked slightly as that always seemed to help calm him when he was like this. 

She brought a hand up to his head to stroke at his quills, it was a weird feeling as her hand caressed his spines to his scales, she wondered what it was like to be a mammal yet also reptilian. She could feel Shadow begin to purr slightly, Maria wouldn’t say it around the black hedgehog but he was the cutest thing, he’d grown tired of her calling him that after about the fifteenth time so she made a point to only do in her head now. 

“You are so smart Shadow but if you have something to prove you shouldn’t just blindly argue with Grandfather, he’s as stubborn as you and won’t listen if you do that” she scolded the hedgehog.

Shadow looked up at her, his face was flat as he didn’t look like he wanted to be lectured at that moment, but Maria didn’t want him arguing with her grandfather, it made studying much worse than it could already be sometimes.

The hedgehog instead nuzzled his face into her waist, she wasn’t sure if he had acknowledged what she just said but her attention was taken off his apathetic attitude to the pile of scales that lay on her skirt, probably pulled off as he rubbed his head into her torso, she picked at one and held it to her face.

“Gosh you're shedding a lot, I hope you're not getting bigger, you're already hard enough to hold at this size” she complained, the hedgehog on her lap looked unstirred by the idea. 

She wondered how she was going to get him to apologise to Gerald for ending studies early due to his little outburst, shadow looked like he’d rather take a nap right in her lap and he looked rather adorable so she was edging towards letting him. Maria calmed her thoughts as she decided she’d let the hedgehog off just for today. She was sure her grandfather was making himself busy somewhere and probably already put the tantrum aside.

The girl began to stroke at the little hedgehog's head of quills and Shadow in response started up his purring again. Everything would be fine.

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Everything was not fine, it had all started going downhill a couple months after that incident during studies. Maria wondered if there was some higher power or something that just wanted a laugh and made Maria and her loved ones the victims for some hardships that began taking place.

Shadow by all accounts was a perfect being or at least should have been, he was strong, fast, could harness this power that Maria was told was chaos energy. He healed so quickly after even the largest injuries, most of which he would get during tests that Maria was not well informed about. However the scientist couldn’t have foreseen the extent of Shadow's progress.

The hedgehog grew, the escalation of his size was alarming at first. He began reaching the torsos of many average height humans on the ARK, the alarm turned to panic when he shot up well past that overnight. Becoming double the height of even the average person of Shadows species had made the scientists scramble for answers, Gerald was absolutely stunned with the mutation Shadow developed. 

As the hedgehog did not stop growing, his body fought to keep up with the rate of enlargement. Shadow had  become poorly as a result of his heart struggling to provide sufficient blood flow around the body. He should have been fine but as his body kept increasing his heart had to constantly readjust to how much work was required to keep his blood flow steady. 

Maria hadn’t seen Shadow in some weeks as an outcome of this event. She sat on her desk as she struggled to gain motivation to draw. The pencil barely scratched at the paper of her sketch pad as her frustration grew, she chucked the pencil across the room and threw her head into her hands. 

She felt sick and not because of the aching disease that ate away at her cells, Shadow was in the labs being poked and prodded as the scientists did their best to keep him alive. It wasn’t supposed to be him in pain, wondering if he’d make it through the day. It should have been her like it always was. She had never wished this pain on anyone, so why was Shadow being punished because she couldn’t be well?

The page her pencil had only barely touched was ripped right off the metal spirals that held her sketchbook together. She tore the page into pieces, shoving all her frustrations into desecrating the empty page. The paper had done nothing wrong but Maria couldn’t think of anything else to alleviate all the negative thoughts that swarmed in her brain. 

She wanted to see Shadow so badly. Tell him it was all going to be okay, hold his hand in hers and just be there by his side. Maria didn’t even know if he was okay.

It was like the universe was listening to her, as the doors to her room abruptly opened, surprising her. She stood up to face the intruder, who happened to be Gerald. The old scientist looked rugged, it was clear he hadn’t had a good night's sleep, as evident from the bags under his eyes Maria could see even through his glasses. It seemed the old man was about to greet her but Maria’s voice was faster than her manners “grandfather, is shadow-“

“Settle down Maria” the scientist quickly interrupted whatever word vomit that was about to erupt from the girl. He walked over to her desk and placed a hand to her shoulder and guided the two of them to her bed to take a seat. “Shadow is stable, we’ve done everything we can for him for now, but only time will tell how he’ll recover”. 

“Did you figure out why he started growing so big, grandfather?” She couldn’t help but ask, it was part of the Robotnik charm being so curious. 

“There’s too many variables that we couldn’t point down, it could be his chaos energy, possibly something mutating with his additional lizard DNA, maybe even an effect of the accelerant we had him under, we aren’t too sure at the moment Maria my dear. Our focus was just stopping the growth before it got too much for Shadow to handle” Gerald explained, he felt irate at not being able to determine the main cause of Shadow's recent mutation. 

The hedgehog was a one of a kind being and Gerald couldn’t just watch Shadow waste away and start over. The scientist and his team had invested their lives into the project and Gerald’s attachment has grown too great. 

Maria looked down as she fiddled with her hands, she appreciated her grandfather for being honest with her about Shadow’s condition, even though the details wrenched her heart to hear. It was nothing compared to what shadow was most likely going through.

“May I see him?” her voice was quiet, she really didn’t expect Gerald to let her but she had to ask.

“Maria I don’t think that’s a good idea-“ she’d expected him to say that but it didn’t stop her from screwing her face, her eyes felt hot but she didn’t want any tears escaping them. 

“Please, please may I just see him grandfather” Maria turned to her Gerald, she had an idea of what her face looked like but she wasn’t even attempting an usual expression that would sway the old man, her face bore her anguish and the second Gerald looked down at her face he knew he didn’t have the strength to say no. 

The scientist sighed as he stood and placed a hand to offer, Maria would usually be jumping for joy at the success of being able to see Shadow when he was in the labs but this time when she took the scientist's aged hand, she was scared. She was afraid of what had become of Shadow, what would she come to find when she saw him she wondered. 

Her thoughts weren’t left unanswered for long, when Gerald had taken his granddaughter to the labs she was introduced to an entirely new section, it reminded her of the zoo she’d seen in a picture once. It was a gigantic space that had large windows that let people view from the outside which was where Gerald had taken her instead of directly Inside the enclosure. However what was inside the enclosure was a large beast, it was larger than large, it was huge to Maria. It was so huge she could hear the things breathing, It was very laboured and it made the girl feel sympathy.

It only took her a moment to identify the familiar black quills and red scales, she was flabbergasted that she was presented with Shadows presence in all his gigantic glory, she’d only not realised it was shadow because of how pale he looked as well as the fact that a behemoth lay in place instead of the three foot creature she was used to. 

Maria could just barely see his face which was currently covered by his arms, he looked flushed and his face kept crumpling in what she assumed to be pain, he was sleeping fitfully. A lump formed in her throat as she watched the beast lay there in suffering, she balled up her fists and before Gerald could do a thing she slammed her fists into the glass of the enclosure. 

Maria couldn’t think of a concrete reason for doing that, it wouldn’t have solved anything, slamming the glass wouldn’t have magically made Shadow better. Maybe she wanted to spread her pain literally anywhere that wasn’t just her, maybe the glass just looked really annoying and deserved the hit. All she knew after the fact was she really shouldn’t have slammed the glass. 

One of Shadows' gigantic and significantly fluffier ears perked up at the source of the noise and he painstakingly lifted his head in the direction of Maria and Gerald. The girl hadn’t even noticed her grandfather scolding her for attacking the glass as Shadow began making his way towards them, the windows they observed him from was at a notably higher higher platform than the one Shadows enclosure was built at, but the height difference was no problem for the hedgehog as his new height made it easier for him to cross the dissimilarity. 

Maria felt ashamed of the sudden fear that struck her as the monstrous hedgehog took earth shaking steps towards where she stood, Gerald had finally noticed as he watched the girl's face turn white and turned to the source of his granddaughter's fear. His eyes abruptly widened, Shadow was not meant to be up just yet. Gerald and his team had continuously worked for weeks to halt the upsurge of growth that literally could have killed Shadow had they not. An idea formed around the scientists to create something to inhibit Shadows powers as the hypothesis between them was that it was a combination of Chaos energy and Shadows overall unstable DNA that was mutating him 

Everyone was relieved when the  plan worked well in execution and the hedgehog had indeed stopped enlarging. Gerald had measured the hedgehog and Shadow was capped off at exactly about thirty-five feet. He now wore brown metal cuffs that were equipped with additional tools to monitor the hedgehog's condition. The old man thought they were quite an eyesore on his project so he declared the cuffs would be a prototype until he and his team could develop something better, given that Shadows rapid increase in size was quite abrupt and his team had to act quickly.

“Maria stand behind me” Gerald commanded, the girl was frozen in place as Shadow haphazardly placed a claw to the window of the enclosure right in front of where she stood. His claw was so huge he could crush her in seconds if he wanted, Maria scolded herself for such a thought. Shadow would never do so. She felt her arm being tugged as she was carefully pulled behind her grandfather, he pulled a device from his pocket that Maria couldn’t really identify until she heard him talk into it. His voice was low and calm but she could hear a spike of panic in it.

Her attention was taken away from the old man when she heard creaking, and then cracking. Her blood turned to ice when she realised the weight Shadow was putting on the windows were making them break, she wanted to yell at the hedgehog to stop but her throat was not eager to listen to her commands, she was too afraid, she was just a useless sick and afraid girl. 

“I believe he is feverish, you will need to come in carefully and administer the sedative” she heard Gerald instruct into the walkie talkie like device. 

In the corner of her eye she looked into the other side of the enclosure, away from where Shadow currently stood. Two scientists apprehensively walked into the gigantic rooms, they were armed with something that looked like a weapon, were they going to hurt Shadow? Maria wanted to speak up but she was still frozen still behind her grandfather. The old scientist himself was standing still, he didn’t want any sudden movements to irritate or confuse the hedgehog, if Shadow broke through the glass, Gerald didn’t know if he and Maria could move away in time to prevent injury. 

Maria could see the scientists whispering harshly to each other, from the distance she was at she obviously couldn’t hear their words but she deduced from their movements they were arguing about who should use their weapon on the distracted hedgehog, in their bickering the taller scientist between the two suddenly and accidentally fired off their weapon. 

A syringe blasted off with smoke trailing it and got Shadow right in the calf, the hedgehog yipped in response and accidentally leaned his entire arm weight into the window. Maria didn’t know what was happening in that moment as glass shattered and she felt herself be shielded as the old man in front of her took the brunt of the glass, there was yelling and panic as she heard the two scientists in the enclosure scream at each other. 

There was a angry roar she was sure came from a provoked Shadow, the sound of shots rang throughout the enclosure as she held on for dear life to her grandfather, her heart couldn’t stop racing, the room shook as Shadow lunged for the scientists that had shot off more sedatives in the their panic at the hedgehogs provokation. They sped towards the steel doors leading out of Shadows enclosure before he could get his claws on the squealing duo. The doors shut quickly as Shadow practically rammed himself into them.

Maria felt her ears ringing, there was just too much going on, her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest, it was painful. There were concerned shouts as scientists and other ARK personnel entered the hallway of the enclosure viewing. The floor was covered in so much glass as were Gerald and Maria, she was shielded well from the accidental attack so she only felt the littlest pricks of tiny glass that flew onto her bare legs. She couldn’t identify if her Grandfather was as lucky as she was, her head just felt so light. 

The scientists began examining the blond girl and her grandfather as they were rushed to exit the enclosure. Maria could only spare a couple seconds to look back at Shadow. The gigantic hedgehog lizard looked absolutely distressed, he had done a number on the steel doors as they were covered in claw marks and dented from punches Shadow threw in pursuit to get the doors open. He was on his hands and knees and wobbled due to the effects of the sedatives. The beast turned to catch her eyes in those spare seconds, Maria knew that look he gave, his pleading eyes told her everything.

“I need you”.

Maria felt her eyes droop as the stress of the situation finally caught up to her and she knew no more as she felt herself be pulled to unconsciousness. 

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The ARK was permeated with tension and quietude the past couple weeks. It was like the atmosphere itself was affecting the residents of the ARK as almost everyone aboard the ship was in low spirits. Gerald had been released from the infirmary a while ago, he hadn’t been too harmed by the glass the day of the incident, however the doctors and nurses didn’t want to risk anything as the scientists was still a fragile old man. He was eager to leave the recovery room as soon as he could, he had so much work to do concerning Shadow.

The enclosure had been rebuilt from the ground up, it was double reinforced to prevent such an incident from happening again. The windows and walls held strong as Shadow was monitored in the large room. He had slept for quite a while after the event due to all the sedatives that were carelessly shot into him. Gerald had reprimanded the two scientists of his endlessly for their actions.

 He understood the situation was not the easiest to deal with but he couldn’t have his team panicking the way these two did if such an incident was to occur again. Training would have to be implemented to any new personnel hired into his team. 

The old scientist was busy working on blueprints for what he hoped would be the final version of his device to help Shadow, the perfect inhibitor rings that would perfectly cap off Shadow's immense power and prevent any further mutations. Gerald ignored any advice from his teammates to take a break, he was quite engrossed in his notes and wanted the prints to be just right.

As his brain stormed with new ideas to add to the inner workings of the rings but  his mind ended up wandering to his granddaughter. Maria had recovered from the incident, he terribly regretted putting the girl in the situation. She could have seriously been hurt, Gerlad couldn’t have foreseen the events playing out as they did but he was her guardian and should've known better. 

However it perturbed the old man when he instructed she was to go nowhere near Shadows enclosure until he deemed it safe, she readily agreed with his command which was so unlike her. Such a prospect would usually have her arguing with the scientist for hours. Maria was a sickly thing but she could really stand her ground when pushed enough. 

He knew how close his granddaughter had become to his project, the two were kind of like siblings in the way they would act. Shadow could be quite the troublemaker when he wanted to be and annoyed Maria sometimes until she was begging the old man to put him back in the labs, and other times she’d be scolding the scientist for checking in on them so much when Maria had Shadow hiding in her accommodations. He’d find them in a makeshift pillowfort doing who knows what in the mountain of pillows. Usually Maria was styling his quills and decorating them with whatever adorable trinkets she owned. 

He missed how elated he saw Maria with Shadow's presence, he hoped that this experience hadn’t deterred the girl from wanting to see shadow. Gerald would allow her to do so in time but he himself felt uneasy with Shadows' new state and knew his scientists and himself needed time to adjust. 

Maria didn’t know what she was doing as she lay face planted down in her bed. In the time since Shadow had been provoked and nearly attacked those scientists, she couldn’t bring herself to even try and see him. Every time she thought about it her heart would begin thumping faster in her chest, she thought about Shadows looming and intimidating presence when he was up so close to the glass. His gigantic claw as the windows fractured from his immense weight leaning on them. The way she could feel her entire body vibrate at the strength of his footfalls.

Shadow was dangerous now, there was no denying that. He was always dangerous before, Gerald always reminded the girl of the immense power Shadow had lying dormant, but he never used it on or around her. The most she’d see was his chaos energy flickering when he was having a tantrum, but this never put the absolute trepidation in her that the gigantic Shadow from a few weeks ago did. 

This was stupid Maria decided, as she sat up on her bed. She turned to her wall that was full of doodles she’d put up with some tape. It was mostly drawings of things she’d wanted to do when she got to earth someday, she took note of the one drawing that was Shadows. She had to beg the hog to let her put it up as he was quite self conscious about his artistic abilities at the time. It wasn’t the best drawing in the world but she loved it because it was a crude drawing of Shadow and herself. Maria was honoured to be the muse of the artistic piece and treasured the little piece of paper.  

Fear of the monstrous hedgehog or not, she missed him. 

She felt guilt build in her chest, she’d been avoiding the hedgehog for so long now. A strong wave of determination overwhelmed her guilt as she tried to gain the persistence to make action. Shadow was her friend and he wasn’t himself during that incident. She recalled his face when she managed to catch a look back at him before she was carted right to the infirmary. 

Maria wished she told him she was right there and it would be okay. There was no reason she couldn’t do that now though. Apart from her grandfather catching her in the act and grounding her for life. Honestly though, being grounded felt better than the guilt currently swarming in her chest. 

Whilst she’d only been to the enclosure once, the trek there the first time had been so cemented in her mind it was no problem making her way there again. Maria had to deter a few scientists that passed her direction and questioned what she was up to and if she was okay which she appreciated. She didn’t want them immediately reporting her presence to Gerald so she kept the conversation light and simple. 

She got a bit sneaky when she got to the labs, keeping herself discreet behind some crates full of things she couldn’t identify. When the coast was clear she found herself face to face with the corridor, the same corridor that allowed a view into the enclosure. Maria felt her heart beginning to pump faster and her palms get sweaty. She wanted to scream at her fear and tell it to pipe down but she remembered her grandfather once telling her fear is an irrational thing, Maria had every reason to be afraid but she just didn’t want to be. 

Her heels clicked as she took slow paced steps down the corridor, her mouth felt dry as she noticed the windows were good as new. No evidence that a feverish giant hedgehog had previously tore a hole through them. Speaking of the giant hedgehog, Maria was greeted by his presence as she stood a couple feet from the windows. She wasn’t frozen in place like she was last time but she couldn’t help but stand in awe of his stature. 

He looked much better compared to the pale and sickly hedgehog she saw before. His breathing looked much better, his crimson scales were practically shining anew and his quills looked strong and healthy. Maria could only spy the behind of his head as he lay turned away from her, he was quite a thing to behold.

Maria hadn’t even realised she walked over and put her hands to the glass. It was only when she saw his head perk up and look toward her did she quickly remove herself from the window and return his stare. How did he know she was there?

There was a stare off for a moment as it seemed like Shadow couldn’t believe she was actually there. She felt her cheeks heat up as she was sure she looked quite silly. Suddenly she watched as the hedgehog rose to his hind legs and moved himself to a corner of the enclosure. It was a part of the giant room that was lightly obscured from view of the observation platform unless Maria walked herself down the corridor a bit more. Was Shadow trying to hide himself? From her? 

Her fear began to fizzle a little, instead replaced by curiosity. The giant hedgehog began to curl into himself, it looked like he was trying to make himself smaller, he was failing unfortunately. It was a sad sight and Maria felt her insides shrivel, in all this time she was wallowing in her inability to not be afraid, to be stronger, it hadn’t even occurred to her what this change felt like to Shadow. 

She couldn’t imagine what it was like to see the world change around you only for your body to be the only thing to change, and for everything to become unaccustomed to yourself. But there Shadow was trying to gain some semblance of control, clearly trying to not frighten the poor blond girl by his mere existence. 

She needed to get down there. 

Maria hurried down the corridor, forgetting her previous efforts to be sneaky and avoid attention.  She whipped her head around the environment and her observation was rewarded with some stairs leading down the platform towards the enclosure, she spied some steel doors at the bottom which she was sure led inside.

The blond girl wasted no time sprinting down the steps, she was hit with a bit of clarity to slow down when a wave of dizziness passed over her,  she was then greeted with a code box next to the doors. She really hoped her grandfather would never change the password, it was so easy to guess it honestly felt kind of cruel the little effort she put when she entered her birthdate. 

Maria was annoyed when she felt that little twinge of fear come back as she entered the enclosure. Unlike the windows there were still clear huge claw markings maimed on the other side of the doors and walls, it seemed Gerald and his team hadn’t had time yet to sort it out and it was a good reminder to Maria that she wasn’t supposed to be in there yet. 

The rest of the enclosure looked the same as the last time she was introduced to it, but honestly her memories of the enclosure were so repressed she couldn’t accurately compare. It was still the same gigantic empty room except there was a giant hedgehog huddling in one of the corners of it.

Shadow was really trying to put himself in that corner. He looked absolutely dismayed that Maria had actually come into the room, he did what he could to make himself look as least threatening as possible as he lay on his front and covered his head with his arms. If Maria didn’t know any better she’d say the monstrous hedgehog was afraid of her.

“Shadow?” Maria called out, she gaped at the black hedgehog as he seemed to flinch at her voice. She heard a whine rumble from out of him and it tore at the heart.

The blond girl wondered what to do, Shadow was clearly distressed by her presence. She didn’t want someone coming by only to catch her in here before she could make things right. 

She trudged dubiously to the giant hedgehog as his whines pitched up, there was one of his claws covering up his large head. It was just as big and petrifying as the last time she was approached with the claw, it hit Maria why he’d even put his hand to the glass last time. He wanted her, he always wanted her when he was upset, even if he could be obstinate with his affection he always held it out towards her. She wanted to facepalm at the fact she let her fear overwhelm her so much that she didn’t realise it sooner.

Maria took her own palm to his oversized claw, his scales felt so smooth as she began to pet them, she could feel he was trembling slightly, this only ignited her to continue in her efforts. Shadow slowly took the claw she was comforting off his face, she saw his strained expression and saw fat globby tears threatening to roll down his muzzle. Maria wished she could just collect Shadow up into her arms and rock him like she used to but he was way beyond a point where she could even attempt that.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere” her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest anymore, rather it beat proudly as she kept her cool and looked up at the massive hedgehog, he kept his hands to himself, clearly he was well informed of what he had done while in the incoherent state he was in previously. He didn’t want Maria to come to harm like she almost had on the observatory. 

“It was an accident, look! Not even a scratch” she emphasised by waving her arms, the little scars where glass had broken her skin begged to differ but Shadow didn’t need to know about that.

The hedgehog sniffled, she watched his face scrunch up as she did so. Maria made an attempt to wipe at the tear on his left cheek that lost its battle trying not to fall. He moved his face away from her slightly, clearly words alone weren’t gonna convince him she meant her words. 

Shadow choked on nothing as Maria marched up to his other claw that happened to be near her, she made an attempt to heave up a finger and curl it around herself. Shadow in response made an attempt to become as still as a statue, did she not realise the danger she was in right now? He was beginning to grow irritated. 

Maria smiled smugly at the hedgehog's incredulousness and curled the finger around herself tighter “I’ve got your hand all to myself now! Are you gonna do anything to stop me?” The girl challenged. 

Shadow brought his snout closer to Maria as he growled in warning at her, she felt his growls vibrate through every nerve in her body but she kept her composure, she noticed how he curled his other fingers around her. It was such a gentle unconscious gesture, it was kind of funny how Shadow could bore such an angry expression while literally cradling her in a claw. 

Her smug smile disappeared as she placed a palm to his thumb. “See, your so annoyed at me but haven’t done anything to hurt me” she pointed out 

Shadow ceased his growls and took a moment to comprehend Maria’s statement. Before she entered his enclosure that day he was lost in his head thinking about the changes to his person, his body felt like a prison. When he moved it made the scientists that took readings of him flinch. If he made a sound they would brace their ears in case he was too loud. It was all so much and happened so fast. He was small and somewhat normal once and suddenly wasn’t.

Then Maria had seen him, his thoughts weren’t coherent then, he had just seen her and wanted nothing more but to be by her side and hear her talk about the things she got up to that day, he’d only realised something was amiss when he felt a throbbing pain in his leg, by then the damage had been done and his massive body had accidentally caused damage to the enclosure and in doing so to Maria and Gerald. 

The old man had greeted him after the fact with apprehension, Shadow knew the scientist was doing his best to not seem afraid but he could just feel it in the way Gerald talked. He was just like the other scientists that flinched and kept away, Gerald could just hide it better

Maria wouldn’t even come see him. He didn’t bother asking about her, why would she want to  after what he did. 

But she was here now, in his claw, by his side like she always said she’d be. 

The thought made his eyes well up again as he brought his head down on the ground at level with Maria, she felt his previously tense claw relax around her as did his entire body. She joined him on the ground as she made an effort to get whatever she could of his muzzle onto her lap, she mostly got a face full of fur but she was the best she could do. 

“Your shedding is going to make people so annoyed” she complained as his muzzle fur clung onto her dress when she moved her torso off his face. She felt a series of vibrations go through her and the floor but then realised he was chuckling. 

“No seriously, you know what, I bet I could ask someone to knit a sweater with all this fur you have now. Think of the possibilities and all the sweaters we could get out of this Shadow” she chatted on.

Shadow had missed her little rambles that tended to tangent onto other things, it was always hard to keep track of but he just loved listening to her talk. He loved Maria. 

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“Maria get off of Shadow this INSTANT” Gerald exasperated.

“I will not. I am perfectly comfortable here and see no reason to come down” Maria replied nonchalantly. 

“Maria I do not have time for your games we are behind schedule on tests and you are in the way, come down” Gerald commanded, Maria could swear a vein was popping out of his bald head. 

“The only way I’m coming down is if someone comes up and gets me” she folded her arms in emphasis. 

Gerald raised his arms in defeat and stomped out of the enclosure, Maria leaned over Shadows red scaly torso to double check he was out before swiping at her forehead, she thought he’d never give up. 

She was feeling quite rebellious when she woke up that day. She wanted to do things her way or the highway, which meant being a good member of society and completing her studies which she guessed wasn’t actually rebellious. 

But it truly kicked in when she was rejected from spending time with Shadow today, Gerald and his scientists had recently been testing out the limits of Shadows chaos energy after applying the finished inhibited rings to Shadows wrists and ankles. Maria told the titanic hedgehog the gold rings made him look snazzy in which Shadow couldn’t help but strike a cool pose down at her. He was so adorable.

But she hadn’t seen him in a couple days and decided now was the time to abuse her power as she formed a one woman strike when she entered into the gigantic room without permission and told Shadow to put her upon his chest. He was so jarred by her confident yet commanding aura that he didn’t protest and simply did as she instructed. 

The argument that ensued between her and Gerald was kind of worth the confusion as the girl had the old man so riled up he simply stormed out of the room. Shadow had no idea Maria held such power to sway the scientist like that, it was usually with a puppy eyed face she had to get her way but that was beginning to get old. 

As she sat on the gigantic hedgehog's chest she was open to his heart hammering in his torso. She could feel it beating right under her, it was accompanied by his breathing which made Maria feel good for some reason. She was always alert on her own breathing in case something was amiss and she needed to report it to the nearest doctor or her grandfather. Maria guessed she felt better knowing Shadow was healthy.

The hedgehog lay spread out with his arms folded and cushioned under his quills. He was at a perfect ease and Maria couldn’t be more than glad to see him as such. 

Shadow had grown to be really confident in interacting with the tiny people around him, Maria could barely remember her previous fear and apprehension at Shadow's stature, he was just so tender in how he held her in his palms. The worst he'd gotten that Maria could recall was when he’d cupped her in his two claws a little two tight but it was an unfortunate quick reaction to Gerald calling her for lunch that had surprised Shadow. He was normally so perceptive to people coming in and out of his enclosure so he was quite embarrassed by the slip up.

Maria saw Shadow's head turn towards the enclosure entrance and did so as well, there stood Gerald, the man’s face was flat as he whipped his head back to the doors behind him, he simply said “Tony get her”.

Tony? That was one of the bio engineers on the project, he was such a lovely fella and treated Shadow so well that he actually gained the privilege of being allowed to touch Shadow, most people would get a growl in response to unwanted

physical contact with the hedgehog. 

She watched as a hulking form sped past Gerald and hopped up onto Shadows tail, Maria released her strike was about to come to an end, she twirled around to her last resort “Shadow! Hide me in your quills! Quick!”.

The giant hedgehog's eyes bore into her for a moment before a smirk spread across Shadows face, his fangs poked out as he shrugged and went back to looking comfortable. Maria was aghast that the hedgehog would do this to her. Tony had made his way to Maria’s spot on Shadows chest and gently lunged for the girl “sorry little miss, got strict orders to getchu outta here so we can get back to work” at least he sounded apologetic. She swore she could feel and hear a rumble from Shadows chest, the traitor had the absolute audacity to laugh at her plight.

Maria’s effort to grab at Shadows chest fur was a feeble effort as she stood no chance against Tony’s muscley form, she was a sickly little girl and she knew it meant she’d be removed from her strike that was against the oppression of doing as you are told. Tony walked towards the doors with Maria in tow as Gerald’s eyes cut into her like knives “to your room young lady”. 

She glanced a look back at the gigantic hedgehog, oh how she loved him but as she learned today, betrayal never came from your enemies.

If anything she guessed she learned something new about herself today. She was a sucker for revenge and Shadow was definitely going to get it once she was ungrounded from whatever punishment Gerald had in store for her 

[mandalhoerian]

sacrosanct | leon kennedy x reader | 2

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pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

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

The god he abandoned has other plans for him.

word count: 13K

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌀 READ ON AO3 !

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

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

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

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

"You're doing it wrong again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why would he do such a thing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The manor feels like a gilded cage.

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

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

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

"My Lord."

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not marrying her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the temple to the palace. Still a pawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can’t stay here. Not now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Necessary. The word is poison, burning through him.

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

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

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

He can't accept this. He refuses to.

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

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

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

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

A scent.

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

Lilies.

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

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

It’s your scent.

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

But his soul screams.

He knows it’s you.

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

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

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

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

Gone.

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

But you’re gone.

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

No, you’re here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm afraid I don't—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, his jaw clenched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Over becoming king one day?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re not the Saintess anymore.

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

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

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

"Hey, you okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're housing the former Saintess."

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

"You heard me."

"Where did you hear that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

Leon didn't think about that at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shouldn't.

He really...

"You've changed."

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

"No—"

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

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

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

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

"How did you—"

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

He holds his tongue, waiting for you to finish.

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

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

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

Why.

Now that was a loaded question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The way you say it…

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leon, what..?"

"Please marry me."

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

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

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

"Wh...Why?"

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

"But why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you serve. You still serve."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[clrasecretdiary]

I do, I do, I do | Spencer Reid x Reader

In which spencer proposes to you.

Absolutely tooth rotting fluff

Contents: Head over heels spence, pet names (honey, angel, darling...)

Warning: none!

a/n: title is a reference to "helpless" from Hamilton & there's a scene inspired by "the tortured poets department" (can u tell I love music?). This is my favorite fic I have ever written.

---

You and Spencer have been dating for 5 years now and, since last year, the team had begun asking the two of you - especially Reid - when were you guys going to “tie the knot”. You and Spencer had talked about it, both agreeing that you both did want to get married, but we’re not in a rush.

Now, you’re at Spencer's house getting ready for one of Rossi's famous dinners. When you look through the mirror, you see Spencer leaning against the door, watching you getting ready while he cuffs the sleeves of his black button-up shirt.

“You’re looking divine angel”

“Thank you honey” You say, turning to him “By the way, this is your last chance to kiss me, unless you also want to wear some red lipstick to Rossi’s”

He giggles, giving you a quick peck on the lips before leaving the bathroom to let you finish getting ready.

Later that night, you, Spencer and the rest of the team are all sitting at the dining table, talking and laughing. This is one of those few, but extremely special moments in which you guys forget all the horrors that happen at work and just are happy together.

You’re in an extremely exciting talk with Garcia about the latest fashion news, a topic that both of you really loved when you feel Spencer playing with your hands, something he usually did, so you did not pay much attention to it. But, at a point you felt him place the small ring he sometimes wore on your finger, specifically your left ring finger, the one you put wedding rings on. When you looked down at it, your heart almost stopped.

He leaned closer to whisper in your ear “It looks perfect on you” and then took it off, continuing to talk to Morgan about… Something. If you were to be honest, after that, you spaced out for a couple seconds, your heartbeat seemed so loud that it replaced all the other sounds around you.

—

2 months later, you’re remembering this moment as you get ready for a very suspicious dinner date with Spencer. Since what happened on Rossi's get together, you knew he was thinking about it and started your detective work to try and figure out when it might happen.

You had asked - no, begged Morgan and Penelope for any kind of clue. It's not that you wanted to know exactly when and where, you just needed a clue to know how to prepare yourself. After a while, you just gave up and decided to let it happen.

You became suspicious when Spencer asked Hotch for you both to have a day off, something you both rarely requested. He also bought you a Vivienne Westwood dress you had been eying for years now.

“Spencer Reid, you did not. Oh my god you're crazy” You said as you opened the box

“Did you like it?”

“Are you kidding? I love it, thank you so much” You say, leaning in to embrace him in a tight hug

“Maybe I can take you to dinner this Saturday, and you can wear it” He says between giggles because of how wide your smile was, oh how he loved pampering you.

“Sounds perfect honey”

Now, finally the day you had been so excited for. Could Spencer just have felt like giving you the dress? Yes, but for some reason you felt there was more to it. Maybe the way he spent the whole day trying to hide how nervous he is, the way he’s letting you take your sweet time getting ready, saying things like “don’t rush honey” or the mysterious call he received from Morgan earlier that day but you were sure something was going to happen.

You finish getting ready and get into the car with him, he’s showering you with compliments the whole way. When he stops the car something is off, this is not a restaurant, in the dark you can’t really make out where you are but it seems familiar.

He gets out of the car, going around and opening the door for you, helping you get out. He walks you to the entrance of the place and opens the door that you now have recognized to be the library you two loved and also the place we’re he finally asked you out on a date after years of secretly-not-so-secretly being in love with you. Only now, there was a small round table there, with lit candles and a table set for two.

The shock made you not realize that Spencer had now let go of your hand, as you look to your side, you're met with your boyfriend down on one knee and a small velvet box in his hand.

“Honey, I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. You’ve been my best friend, the best thing that ever happened to me, you make all the crazy stuff we go through easier, because we’re goin through it together. There’s no one I would rather live life with than you, so will you marry me?”

“Spencer..” That’s the only thing you manage to say, shocked and feeling a kind of happiness you never experienced before. “Of course I will. Oh my god I love you so much” You say, pulling on his arm so he stands up and you kiss him deeply. Feeling an amount of love you never thought was possible.

Once you pull away, he places the delicate ring on your hand and kisses you again. And all you can think is how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

[pdriesta]

"you don't need no air, you can just breathe me"

pairings — judexblack!girl

genre —fluff, celebrity romance, music video shoot

warnings — sexual themes (minors dni)

word count — 8k

summary — under the city lights of osaka, y/n's music video shoot transforms into a canvas for her profound, all-encompassing love for jude. from playful karaoke sessions to tender kisses, their chemistry is palpable. as they document their romance on camera, they're prepared to take their love public, revealing to the world just how deeply they’re in love.

an — when i tell you i'm obsessed with this song. i knew i had to write about it. this fic is based on the music video of tyla's, breathe me. i would suggest watching to get the vibes of the fic.

masterlist

it all started with a chance meeting—her cousin, one of jude’s teammates, had invited her to madrid for a weekend getaway, thinking she needed a break from the chaos of her rising fame. she had just finished her second world tour, and her voice was everywhere, on every radio, every playlist, but her heart? her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the pressures of being in the spotlight, by always being seen but never really understood.

it was supposed to be just a casual dinner after one of jude’s matches, nothing serious. but from the moment they locked eyes, something clicked. she remembered how shy he had been at first, his usual confidence seeming to falter as he stumbled over his words when they were introduced. she had laughed—softly, the kind of laugh that made his heart race. and from that night on, they were inseparable. not in the obvious, bold way. it was in the quiet moments, the late-night calls when they’d stay up talking about everything and nothing. about music, football, life, dreams. he’d send her snippets of songs he’d found, songs that reminded him of her, and she’d stay on the phone with him while he described in detail the feeling of scoring a goal in front of thousands of fans.

their connection grew over time, a slow burn of longing, affection, and undeniable chemistry. he’d fly out to see her whenever he had a break in his schedule, slipping into her life like he’d always been there—helping her pick out studio outfits, sitting quietly in the corner while she recorded, offering encouragement when she was frustrated. she never had to explain anything to him. jude just understood her in ways no one else ever had.

they made long distance work in a way that felt easy. it wasn’t perfect; there were challenges, but they both cared enough to try. jude made her laugh in moments where she felt like breaking down from the pressure, and she gave him a sense of peace, a place to escape the noise of his own fame. no one really knew about them—whispers, sure, but nothing confirmed. she liked it that way, liked having something that was just theirs. no media frenzy, no cameras in their faces, just… them.

and then one day, after months of dancing around it, jude had asked her to be his girlfriend. they were in london, staying at a little hotel she loved for its vintage charm, and he had looked so nervous. she remembered the way his hands had fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, the way he had stared at her for a beat too long before finally blurting it out. “i want to be with you… properly. no more ‘friends’ thing. just… us.”

she had smiled, that soft, secret smile she saved just for him, and said yes. and from that moment, they were it for each other.

it had been weeks since they’d last seen each other in person—weeks filled with endless phone calls, facetime sessions, and voice notes, but it wasn’t the same. she had just wrapped up her album launch in her home city, a huge milestone that marked her rise to superstardom. the long flight straight from the launch party to madrid felt like a blur, but she couldn’t care less. she was finally going to see jude.

the moment she stepped through the door of jude’s house, the smell of she smelt dinner from the kitchen and smiled to herself, dropping her bags by the entrance and heading towards the source. there he was, standing by the stove, his back to her as he stirred a pot of something on the burner. she stood there for a second, just watching him, the domesticity of it all filling her chest with warmth. how did she get so lucky?

“i missed you,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

jude turned around immediately, his eyes lighting up the second he saw her. without a word, he crossed the room in two long strides and pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight it almost took her breath away.

“you’re here,” he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “god, i missed you so much.”

she clung to him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against her chest. “missed you too. so much.”

they stood like that for a moment, just holding each other, the rest of the world fading into the background. no paparazzi, no cameras, no pressure. just them. finally, jude pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her waist as he looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“you didn’t have to fly out so soon,” he said, his thumb brushing over her hip. “you just finished your album launch—you must be exhausted.”

“and miss out on cooking for my hard-working boyfriend?” she teased, her smile widening. “you need a proper meal after all that training. besides, i wanted to be here with you.”

he chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“i know,” she said with a playful grin. “now, let me help. what are you making?”

“it was supposed to be a surprise,” jude admitted, a sheepish look crossing his face. “but, uh… you know i can’t cook. i need your help with the rice.”

she laughed, shaking her head as she moved to the stove, taking over the rice. it didn’t take long before they fell into an easy rhythm—her stirring the pot, him chopping vegetables at the counter. they chatted about everything and nothing, catching up on all the little details they hadn’t been able to share over the phone. it felt natural, comfortable. like home.

as they cooked, jude kept stealing glances at her, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. god, he’d missed her. missed her laugh, missed her voice, missed the way she made everything feel so easy.

“so,” he started, watching her as she plated the food, “congratulations on finishing the album.”

she turned to him, her face lighting up. “thank you. it still doesn’t feel real, you know? like, after all these months… it’s finally done.”

“i’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “i know how much work you put into it.”

she felt her heart swell at his words, warmth spreading through her chest. “you helped me more than you know,” she admitted. “all those late-night calls when i was stressed out… you were there through it all.”

“of course i was. i’ll always pick up no matter the time, ” jude said, stepping closer to her. “i wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

there was a beat of silence as they stood there, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air. it had been a long road—balancing their hectic schedules, making long-distance work, supporting each other through the highs and lows. but somehow, they’d made it. they were stronger because of it.

as they sat down at the table, jude watched her, something unreadable in his eyes. she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“what?” she asked, her voice teasing.

he grinned, leaning back in his chair. “i have a surprise for you.”

“another one?” she laughed, already feeling spoiled just by being with him.

“yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “i know how much you’ve been wanting to take a break, and, well… i thought now would be a good time.”

she tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “okay, go on.”

“we’re going to japan,” jude blurted out, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

her eyes widened, her fork clattering against her plate as she stared at him in disbelief. “wait, what?”

“i booked us a trip,” he continued, his grin now fully stretching across his face. “to celebrate your album launch. you’ve been talking about japan forever, so i thought… why not?”

she blinked, her heart racing as she processed his words. “japan? like… actually?”

he nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “yep. we leave in two days.”

without thinking, she launched herself across the table and into his arms, her excitement bursting out of her in a flurry of kisses. “jude, you didn’t!”

he laughed, wrapping his arms around her tightly, holding her close. “i did. anything for you.”

she pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes shining with tears of joy. “i can’t believe this. i’ve always wanted to go…”

“i know,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “and now we get to go together.”

she kissed him again, her lips lingering against his as she whispered, “thank you.”

“you deserve it,” jude murmured, his lips brushing against hers. “all of it. and now, we get to have some time for just us.”

they stayed like that for a moment, lost in each other, the excitement of the trip already buzzing between them. finally, she pulled back, a wide grin still plastered on her face.

“okay, i need to pack,” she said, already getting up from the table.

“oh no, you don’t,” jude said, standing up and pulling her back into his arms. “you’re staying right here”

she laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck as she leaned into him. “you’re terrible.”

“you love it,” he teased, kissing her softly. “besides, we’ve got two days. plenty of time to pack later.”

she sighed, knowing he was right but still feeling the urge to get everything ready. but as his lips brushed against her neck, his hands slipping under her shirt, she decided packing could wait a little longer.

“fine,” she murmured, her voice breathless, “but only because you’re distracting me.”

“good,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck, “that’s the plan.”

she could still feel the lingering warmth of jude’s embrace from earlier as they sat on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by open suitcases. after dinner, they hadn’t even bothered finishing, too caught up in the excitement of their upcoming trip to japan. it was something they’d talked about for months—her dream destination, a place she’d always wanted to visit for the culture, the food, the fashion, and now, the two of them would get to explore it together.

she was still buzzing from the excitement, barely able to focus on packing as she sat across from him now, folding clothes with a distracted smile on her face.

"japan, jude!" she grinned, still giddy from his surprise. "i can't believe you did this."

he chuckled, watching her with that soft, adoring look that always made her heart skip a beat. “how could i not? you’ve been talking about it forever.”

“but still…” she leaned forward, her hands cupping his face. “thank you.”

his eyes softened, and he gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. “anything for you.”

they stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads resting together, their breaths syncing. the world outside felt distant, irrelevant compared to the warmth they shared in that little bedroom. he made everything feel so easy, so right. she didn’t want to hide that anymore.

“jude,” she started, her voice a little quieter now, “i’ve been thinking…”

he pulled back slightly, searching her eyes, sensing the shift in her tone. “what’s on your mind?”

she hesitated for a second, gathering her thoughts. “i don’t want to hide us anymore.”

his brow furrowed, surprise flashing in his eyes as he stilled, hands lightly resting on her hips. “what do you mean?”

“i mean…” she bit her lip, her heart pounding. “i’m tired of pretending like we’re just friends. everyone already suspects something, and i don’t want to keep this a secret. i want the world to know about us. i want to be with you—fully. no more hiding.”

he studied her for a long moment, his expression softening, concern flickering in his gaze. “are you sure? you don’t have to do this because of pressure or anything. i’m okay with how things are, as long as you’re comfortable.”

her heart melted at his words, at the way he always put her first. she smiled, her hand sliding down to rest on his chest. “i know you are. but i’ve thought about it, and i’m ready. besides…” her eyes twinkled with mischief, “i want you to be in my next music video.”

his face lit up, his earlier concern dissolving into excitement. “wait, what? seriously? i can finally be in one of your videos?”

“yep,” she grinned, loving the way his excitement bubbled up, the way he could never hide how happy he was. “i want you in the next one.”

“which song?” he asked, already running through ideas in his mind.

“breathe me,” she said, her voice soft and full of meaning.

his expression changed in an instant, turning tender and sentimental. “that’s my favorite,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “you know how much that song means to me.”

before she could respond, jude picked her up and gently tossed her on the bed, his arms wrapping around her as he buried his face in her neck, peppering her skin with kisses that sent a thrill through her body. “my beautiful, talented girlfriend,” he whispered against her skin, his voice warm and full of pride, “and now the whole world will know she’s mine.”

she laughed, trying to wiggle out from under him, her heart swelling with affection. “you’re so possessive.”

“you love it,” he teased, his lips lingering at the sensitive spot just below her ear, making her toes curl.

“maybe i do,” she admitted, her fingers threading through his soft curls, tugging lightly in a way she knew he loved. his breath hitched against her neck, and she felt a rush of satisfaction at the effect she had on him.

they stayed like that, tangled in each other, their suitcases long forgotten on the floor. jude’s hands roamed her sides, his touch sending warmth through her with every brush of his fingers. his kisses grew slower, more deliberate, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. she sighed into him, her body relaxing under the weight of his love, feeling the world around them blur into nothingness.

“jude,” she whispered, her voice soft, breathy. “what about packing?”

he grinned against her skin, his breath warm as he kissed the spot just below her ear again, his favorite spot. “forget it. packing can wait.”

she smiled, knowing full well they’d regret it later when they were rushing to pack last minute. but right now? none of it mattered. all that mattered was him—the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world, the way he looked at her like she was everything he had ever wanted.

he kissed her again, this time on the lips, slow and deep, his hand cupping her jaw as he tilted her head back slightly. she melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space between them. she could feel his heartbeat against her chest, steady and strong, grounding her in the moment.

“i love you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice soft, full of sincerity. “so much.”

her heart swelled, the words wrapping around her like a blanket of warmth. she pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her thumb tracing his jaw. “i love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

he smiled, leaning down to kiss her again, and she knew—no matter what, they’d be okay. they’d face the world together, hand in hand, no more hiding, no more pretending.

just them. together.

the next two days blurred together in a mix of tangled sheets, stolen kisses, and whispered confessions. it was as if the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of them, making up for lost time. they hadn’t been apart for that long, but being in each other’s arms again felt like they were rediscovering something they’d been craving for weeks.

y/n spent her time meticulously double-checking packages, ensuring everything they needed for the trip to japan was in order, while jude would laugh at how organized she was, teasing her every time she opened her meticulously crafted itinerary.

“it’s been my dream forever,” she’d say, her eyes bright with excitement, “and you made it happen. my baby made it happen.”

he couldn’t help but smile at the pride and joy in her voice. she had been riding a high since the moment they got back together—he loved seeing her like this, full of light, full of excitement. the exhaustion from her long flight seemed to disappear in the wake of her adrenaline-fueled happiness.

the night before their flight, she could barely sleep. her mind was too busy buzzing with thoughts of their upcoming adventure, her excitement bubbling over to the point where she couldn’t contain it. just before dawn, she woke jude up by straddling him in bed, her knees on either side of him as she bounced excitedly.

“jude, wake up!” she whispered loudly, her hands on his chest, her grin wide.

he groaned, still half-asleep, but when he cracked open one eye and saw the look on her face, he couldn’t help but laugh. “what time is it?” his voice was groggy, heavy with sleep.

“time to go to japan!” she beamed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “come on, get up! we have to get ready.”

he wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her firmly in place, even as she squirmed on top of him. “you’re too energetic for this early,” he mumbled, but the smile on his face betrayed his words.

“come on, jude,” she giggled, leaning down further until her face was inches from his. “aren’t you excited?”

“i’d be more excited if i got a few more hours of sleep,” he teased, but when she pouted at him, he gave in, lifting his head to kiss her gently. “fine, fine. i’m up.”

they got ready in their sweatsuits, her braids knotted on the top her head, his curls wild and unruly, both looking far too casual for the excitement of the adventure ahead. they skipped breakfast, their — mainyly y/n’s — nerves too high for eating, and after a short ride to the airport and a whirlwind of travel logistics, they were on their way.

the first few days in japan felt like a dream.

jude watched her, amazed, as she lit up at every turn, her eyes wide with wonder, soaking in every detail of the places they visited. they wandered through bustling markets, she dragged him through every boutique she could find, and he snapped photos of her at every chance he got. she had insisted on buying a digital camera for the trip, wanting to capture every moment, every memory, and it hadn’t left his hands since.

“stop,” she laughed, playfully swatting at him as he pointed the camera at her for the hundredth time, snapping a candid shot of her mid-laugh.

“never,” he grinned, lowering the camera just slightly to catch her eyes. “you’re too beautiful not to capture.”

her cheeks flushed, a smile tugging at her lips as she playfully rolled her eyes. “you’re too much sometimes.”

they walked hand-in-hand through the streets of tokyo, exploring temples, visiting art galleries, and trying every food stall they could find. one evening, as the sun set over the skyline, they found themselves in a quiet park, surrounded by cherry blossom trees in full bloom. the petals fell like soft pink snowflakes, covering the ground in a delicate blanket, and she stood in the middle of it all, spinning slowly, her face lifted toward the sky, eyes closed as she let the moment wash over her.

jude, as usual, couldn’t help but snap a picture.

“you’re obsessed,” she teased when she caught him, her voice light with affection.

“can you blame me?” he said, walking over to her and pulling her into his arms. he kissed her gently, the soft petals falling around them like confetti.

their days were full of exploration, but the nights were intimate, a contrast to the busy city around them. they’d return to their hotel, collapsing onto the bed in fits of laughter or quiet exhaustion, and he’d hold her close, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder, her neck, her jaw.

one night, after a long day of sightseeing, they returned to their room, y/n still riding high on the joy of everything they’d seen. she was bouncing around the room, too excited to wind down.

“you’re like a kid on christmas,” jude said with a laugh, watching her flit around.

“i can’t help it!” she grinned, “everything here is just so perfect. i don’t want it to end.”

“well, we’ve still got a few days,” he said, walking over and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.

she let out a soft hum, leaning back against his chest, tilting her head to the side to give him better access as he kissed her neck. “we should go to the baths tomorrow,” she said softly, her voice almost dreamy. “it would be so relaxing…”

“whatever you want,” jude murmured against her skin, his hands running up and down her sides, sending a shiver through her.

her breathing hitched slightly, her body responding to his touch. she turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a slow, deep kiss. their movements were languid, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.

they made love slowly that night, the city lights casting a soft glow through the windows, illuminating the room in shades of gold and pink. every touch, every kiss felt more meaningful, more intense, like they were imprinting the memory of this trip into each other’s skin.

afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, her head resting on his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her back.

“i’m so happy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “this trip, everything… it’s all perfect.”

he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “i’m glad. you deserve this.”

they drifted off to sleep like that, wrapped in each other, the weight of the world feeling light and far away.

the next morning, she woke up before him, as usual. the sunlight filtered in through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his face. he looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. she watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with love for this boy who had made all her dreams come true.

unable to resist, she straddled him again, just like she had done before their flight, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his jaw.

“wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly.

he groaned, blinking his eyes open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he realized what was happening. “again?” he teased, his hands instinctively settling on her hips.

“can’t help it,” she grinned, leaning down to kiss him again, her heart light with the joy of knowing they had so much more time to explore, to make memories, to just be together.

and in that moment, nothing else mattered. just them, their love, and the promise of more adventures to come.

jude burst through the door of the karaoke parlour with a grin so wide it practically lit up the room. y/n was perched on his back, arms wrapped loosely around his neck, her laughter echoing in the small space as he carried her inside effortlessly. she had tried to walk, but jude had insisted, saying something about conserving her energy for the important things—like singing.

"i'm perfectly capable of walking, you know," she teased, resting her chin on his shoulder as her fingers played with the collar of his hoodie.

"oh, i know," jude replied, flashing her a wink in the mirror as they passed by. "but where’s the fun in that? besides, i gotta keep my girl close."

her heart fluttered at the casual way he said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. and to him, it probably was. they had been inseparable since landing in japan, and with every passing hour, he found more ways to remind her just how much he adored her.

"we're supposed to be shooting a music video, not messing around," she said, her voice half-scolding but filled with warmth as she tightened her grip on him.

"who says we can’t do both?" he chuckled, adjusting her on his back as he carried her further inside, the neon lights reflecting off the polished floors. "besides, you look cute up there. the cameras will love it."

she rolled her eyes playfully, but the blush on her cheeks gave her away. jude always knew how to make her feel like she was the center of his universe, even in the middle of all the chaos.

they reached the private karaoke room, and her manager, waiting by the doorway, shook his head with an amused smile. "you two look ready. just be yourselves, have fun, and don’t worry about the cameras. this is the first scene, so let’s make it a good one."

"no problem," jude responded, setting y/n down gently. she slid off his back, her feet touching the ground with a light thud, but he didn’t let go of her. instead, his hand immediately found its place on her waist, fingers brushing the fabric of her shirt

“you ready?” he asked, his eyes full of excitement.

she smiled up at him, feeling the electric buzz of the moment. “always.”

and with that, they stepped inside the cozy karaoke room, neon lights casting a soft, colorful glow over everything. jude, ever the gentleman, let her lead the way before pulling her back into him, wrapping his arms around her from behind as they took in the vibe of the place.

the energy in the karaoke bar shifted as the lights dimmed further, casting a neon glow across the small space. the hum of excitement lingered in the air, and y/n felt her heart race in time with the music that was about to fill the room. this wasn’t just another part of the music video shoot—it was a reflection of them. and in a place like this, with jude by her side, the lines between acting and reality blurred effortlessly.

“okay, just be yourselves, have fun, and let it feel natural,” her manager reminded them with a smile before leaving them to their own devices.

as soon as the door closed, jude grabbed one of the microphones, his signature mischievous grin already in place. he was a ball of playful energy, and y/n couldn’t help but match his excitement. he tugged her toward the couch, pulling her onto his lap before she could even protest.

“jude!” she laughed, settling into him, her back pressed against his firm chest as his arms wrapped around her waist possessively.

“what?” he raised his brows innocently, the mic still in hand. “i’m just getting comfortable.” his fingers gently traced patterns along the curve of her waist, his warmth radiating into her skin even through the fabric of her clothes.

she rolled her eyes, half-heartedly swatting his chest. “you’re going to be a distraction.”

“that’s the plan, baby.” he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her neck, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “besides, i know your song better than you do. someone has to carry this performance.”

y/n opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the familiar beat of her song filled the room, and jude jumped right into the first verse, completely stealing the moment. his voice was loud and exaggeratedly dramatic, deliberately off-key just to make her laugh. and it worked.

she tried to hold it in, but his enthusiasm was too infectious, and she burst out laughing, her body shaking against him as she grabbed for the mic. “jude, give me that! it’s my song!”

but he held the mic just out of reach, his grin widening. “oh, you mean our song?” he teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before continuing to belt out the lyrics like he was performing a sold-out concert. “i’m doing you a favor, really. don’t want you to get tired singing the whole thing.”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh, settling back into his embrace as he sang the first verse, but when the chorus hit, she grabbed the mic back and joined in, their voices blending in a mix of playful harmony. jude’s offbeat delivery was charming, the kind of over-the-top ridiculousness that only he could pull off, while her smooth vocals carried the melody.

they were completely in sync, leaning into each other, both singing along to her words, their bodies touching in subtle but intimate ways. jude’s hand rested low on her hip, his thumb tracing small circles that sent warmth through her body. her fingers absentmindedly played with the curls at the nape of his neck as she sang, feeling the familiar comfort of his touch, the way his presence always seemed to calm her nerves.

as the lyrics flashed on the screen, jude continued to tease, taking over the mic every chance he got, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered the words, his voice sending a thrill through her.

“i know you love it when i sing your songs, baby,” he murmured between verses, his breath warm against her skin. “can’t help myself.”

she shook her head, her smile softening as she glanced back at him. “you’re impossible.”

“you love it,” he shot back, his voice low, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her stomach flip.

maybe she did. his energy was intoxicating, pulling her into his orbit without even trying. she turned slightly in his lap, her hands finding his chest as they both continued to sing, the playful atmosphere morphing into something more charged, more intimate.

jude’s fingers played at the hem of her shirt, his touches light and teasing, sending jolts of warmth through her body with every brush of his fingertips. the lyrics of her song spilled from his lips, but there was something about the way he sang them that made her heart race.

“you’re making this hard to focus,” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with affection as she leaned closer, her lips hovering near his.

he smirked, his hand sliding up to cup her face gently. “maybe i’m just giving you some inspiration.”

before she could respond, he pulled her closer, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss that made her forget about everything else—the cameras, the crew outside, even the song playing in the background.

she deepened the kiss, her fingers curling into his shirt as she let herself get lost in him, in the way his hands felt on her skin, the way his lips moved against hers. it was the kind of kiss that made her feel like they were the only two people in the world, and she had to remind herself that they were supposed to be filming a music video, not getting completely caught up in each other.

when they finally pulled away, breathless, jude’s forehead rested against hers, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “see? told you i’d make it memorable.”

she bit her lip, fighting the smile that threatened to take over. “you always do.”

the second verse started, and y/n picked up the mic again, this time determined to actually sing her own song. she sang the words softly, her voice steady, and as she did, she could feel jude’s eyes on her, watching her with that soft, adoring gaze that always made her heart skip a beat. he didn’t need to say anything—his touch, his closeness, and the way he looked at her said everything.

when the chorus came back around, he joined in again, this time matching her tone more seriously, their voices intertwining perfectly. he pulled her even closer, his hand resting low on her hip, grounding her in a way that made her feel like nothing else mattered but the two of them.

they were wrapped up in each other, the music flowing around them, their voices blending together like they had been doing this forever. and in a way, they had. this wasn’t just for the cameras—this was them, this was real, and it felt perfect.

by the time the bridge came around, jude was back to being playful, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered the lyrics along with her, his hands exploring the curves of her body in a way that was subtle enough to stay out of the shot but still made her heart race.

as the final notes of the song played out, y/n turned to face him fully, her knees on either side of his legs, her hands resting on his shoulders as she smiled down at him, her chest still rising and falling with the remnants of their playful duet.

“you’re the worst,” she teased, though her voice was filled with affection.

he grinned up at her, his hands resting on her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles into her skin. “the worst, huh? i thought i was your muse.”

“you are,” she admitted softly, leaning in to kiss him quickly, her lips barely grazing his. “but that doesn’t mean you get to steal my spotlight.”

he chuckled, pulling her closer so that her forehead pressed against his. “you’ll always have the spotlight, baby. i’m just here to support you.”

they stayed like that for a moment, the intimacy between them palpable as the world outside their little bubble felt distant and unimportant.

the music video crew could’ve been filming for hours, but y/n barely noticed. with jude by her side, everything felt like a dream—a perfect blend of laughter, music, and playful touches. every time she sang a verse, he’d find some way to distract her, whether by stealing the mic or trailing kisses along her jawline.

and when he wasn’t singing, he was watching her, his eyes never leaving her as she sang the words she had written, words that felt all the more special because he was there, right beside her.

the streets of osaka buzzed with life, the vibrant energy of the city wrapping around them like a warm embrace. jude and y/n strolled hand in hand, their fingers intertwined as they navigated through the crowd. the neon lights from the shops and street vendors painted everything in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting a soft glow over them as they walked.

jude’s arm draped protectively around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close. every so often, he’d lean down and press a quick, affectionate kiss to her temple, his lips brushing her skin with a tender warmth. y/n’s head rested against his shoulder, her smile bright and carefree as they moved together through the bustling streets.

“this place is incredible,” y/n said, her voice filled with excitement as she took in the sights and sounds of osaka. she reached up to gently squeeze jude’s hand, her eyes sparkling with joy. “i’m so glad we’re here.”

“me too, baby,” jude replied, his tone soft and affectionate. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, especially not without you.”

he guided her around a particularly crowded corner, the arm he sling over your shoulder guiding you, his touch firm but loving. whenever they encountered a bump or a tricky step, jude was quick to steady her, his concern evident as he made sure she was safe and comfortable.

“watch your step here,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of playfulness and care as he helped her over a small uneven patch in the pavement. his hand lingered on her waist for a moment longer than necessary, his touch a reassuring presence.

y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the way he always seemed to anticipate her needs. “i’m not going to trip, you know. but thanks for looking out for me.”

“always,” jude said, his smile warm and genuine. he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close and resting his chin on top of her head. “besides, i like having you this close. makes me feel like i’m doing something right.”

they continued their leisurely stroll, moving past street vendors selling everything from colorful trinkets to delicious-smelling street food. jude’s protective nature was evident as he scanned the surroundings, making sure no one intruded on their personal space. every now and then, he’d glance down at y/n, his gaze soft and full of affection.

as they walked, jude playfully lifted y/n off her feet, spinning her around in a circle before setting her back down gently. her laughter rang out, a clear, melodic sound that made jude’s heart skip a beat.

“jude, stop! you’re making me dizzy!” y/n laughed, trying to regain her balance as she looked up at him with a playful grin.

“just making sure you’re having fun,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch tender and intimate.

“i am,” she said, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her again, their bodies pressed close together. “i’ve never had so much fun just walking around.”

they wandered into a quaint little alleyway, where the atmosphere felt more intimate and personal. the soft glow of paper lanterns hung above them, casting a warm, golden light. jude and y/n continued to walk, their bodies perfectly in sync, their shared smiles and stolen glances making every moment feel special.

at one point, y/n stopped to admire a small, handcrafted item at a street stall. jude watched her with a loving gaze, his hands tucked into his pockets as he observed her fascination with the delicate piece. he stepped closer, his presence a comforting shield as he stood beside her.

“you should get it,” jude suggested, his voice low and gentle. “it’ll be a nice memento from our trip.”

“you think so?” y/n asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“definitely,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. “anything that makes you smile is worth it.”

the vendor handed y/n the item with a warm smile, and jude watched as her face lit up with happiness. he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the sight of her joy.

throughout their exploration, jude kept his camera ready, capturing every moment. “seriously, y/n,” he’d say, showing her a photo. “you look incredible. how do you manage to be so beautiful all the time?”

y/n would laugh, her cheeks flushing slightly. “you’re too much, jude. stop making me shy.”

“it’s true,” he’d reply, his gaze affectionate. “you’re always beautiful. i just want to remember every single moment with you.”

as the evening drew near, the city lights began to sparkle even more brightly, and jude and y/n found themselves at a charming little café. jude opened the door for y/n, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her inside with a loving touch.

“i think we’ve earned a little break,” jude said, his voice warm as he led her to a cozy corner table.

“i agree,” y/n said, slipping into the seat with a content sigh. she looked up at jude, her eyes full of affection. “thank you for making today so perfect.”

“anything for you, baby,” jude replied, his voice full of sincerity. he leaned in to kiss her softly, their lips meeting in a tender, intimate moment that spoke of their deep connection.

as they settled into their seats, jude’s protective instinct remained evident, but it was clear that his concern was born from love and admiration. with every touch and glance, jude made sure that y/n knew how much love he had for her.

the night’s air in osaka was filled with the tantalizing aromas of street food as jude and y/n found a cozy spot on the curb in front of a bustling food truck. the city’s neon lights flickered around them, creating a vibrant backdrop to their simple yet perfect moment.

they sat close together, their knees almost touching as they shared an assortment of delicious street food. jude held a skewer of yakitori, and with a playful grin, he offered it to y/n.

“here, baby, try this,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

y/n took a bite, her eyes widening in delight. “oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” she exclaimed, leaning in to give jude a quick peck on the cheek. “you did well.”

jude chuckled, his gaze soft and affectionate. “well, I guess it’s not just the food that’s amazing.” he picked up a piece of takoyaki and offered it to y/n with a teasing smile. “open wide.”

y/n giggled, taking the bite and savoring the rich, savory flavor. “you know, if you keep feeding me like this, i might just get used to it.”

“oh, I’m counting on it,” jude replied, his voice low and flirtatious. he leaned closer, brushing his lips against y/n’s ear. “i love taking care of you, baby.”

y/n shivered slightly at his touch, a smile spreading across her face. “you’re always take care of me,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing.

jude’s fingers brushed against y/n’s as he took a sip from his drink, their hands lingering together for a moment longer than necessary. he gazed at her with a look of adoration, his thumb gently caressing her hand.

“you know,” jude said softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to y/n’s neck. “you look absolutely beautiful, even with street food smeared on your face.”

y/n laughed, her heart fluttering at his affectionate gesture. “oh, stop it,” she teased, playfully nudging him with her shoulder. “has anyone told you, you’re quite the charmer, “bellingham?.”

“i can’t help it,” jude replied, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “you’re just so perfect, baby. i can’t help but let you know how much i adore you.”

they continued to feed each other, their playful banter punctuated by affectionate touches and teasing kisses. jude would occasionally lean in to press a soft kiss to y/n’s temple or brush his lips against her cheek, making her heart race with happiness.

“jude, you’re making it hard for me to eat my food,” y/n said with a playful pout, trying to hide her smile.

“that’s the idea,” jude said, his voice full of affection. “i’d rather have you focused on me.”

as they finished their meal, jude wrapped an arm around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close. they sat together, enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence and the vibrant energy of the city. jude’s fingers gently played with y/n’s hair as they watched the world go by, their hearts full of contentment and love.

the taxi ride back to the hotel was bathed in a soft, golden hue from the streetlights outside, the cityscape slipping past as jude and y/n shared an intimate moment. they were still wrapped in the magic of their music video shoot, the camera capturing every tender glance and playful touch.

as they settled into the back seat, jude pulled y/n close, their bodies pressed together in the confined space. her head rested on his shoulder, his hand gently caressing her cheek. the rhythm of their breaths mingled with the hum of the taxi, creating a cocoon of warmth and affection.

y/n leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she began to lip-sync the lyrics of her song, her voice a soft murmur against his skin. “breathe me, baby,” she sang for the camera, and the leaned in so her lips grazing his earlobe. “can you feel how much I need you?”

jude's breath hitched at the intimate touch, his eyes locked on hers as he cupped her face in his hands. “every word you sing,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “makes me fall for you even more.”

y/n’s eyes sparkled with mischief and love as she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “i’m so glad you said yes to being in this video,” she murmured, her fingers trailing down his chest. “it’s been perfect.”

jude’s smile widened, his lips finding hers again in a slow, passionate kiss. “anything for you, baby,” he said against her lips, his hands sliding to her waist. “you make everything perfect.”

the taxi swayed gently as jude’s hands roamed her back, pulling her further into his lap. y/n’s fingers threaded through his hair, their kisses growing deeper and more urgent with every passing second. the city lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow on their entwined figures.

“for the rest of my life, allow me to show you just how much I love you,” jude whispered, his lips trailing down to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “you’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

y/n shivered at the heat of his words, her fingers gripping his shirt as she tilted her head back, offering him more access. “i’m yours,” she whispered breathlessly. “always.”

the taxi ride became a passionate, private moment where the world outside ceased to exist. their connection was palpable, their love evident in every touch, kiss, and whispered promise. as they finally arrived at the hotel, their hearts raced with anticipation, knowing they had shared a moment that was as intimate as it was unforgettable.

the night was drawing to a close as jude and y/n returned to their hotel, the city lights of osaka twinkling in the distance. the atmosphere in the hotel lobby was serene, a stark contrast to the bustling streets they had explored earlier. the final scenes of the music video were set to be filmed in the quiet, intimate setting of the hotel.

as they entered the elevator, jude and y/n positioned themselves in the corner, the camera crew ready to capture the last moments of their shoot. jude’s arm was wrapped around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close as they began to sing the final lines of y/n’s song, “breathe me.” their voices harmonized perfectly, the lyrics echoing softly in the confined space.

y/n leaned into jude, her head resting against his chest as she sang the poignant lyrics. jude’s gaze was soft and adoring as he looked down at her, his fingers gently brushing her cheek. their intimate performance was filled with passion, their connection evident in every touch and glance.

“you don’t need no air” jude murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he sang. “you can just breathe me, breathe me.”

y/n smiled up at him, her eyes shimmering with affection. “you make it so easy to sing this song.”

jude’s playful side emerged as he gazed at y/n with a mischievous grin. without warning, he scooped her up into his arms, lifting her effortlessly. her laughter rang out, a bright, melodious sound that filled the elevator.

“jude, what are you doing?” y/n giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her.

“just making sure you’re comfortable,” jude teased, his voice warm and filled with adoration. “and maybe getting one last chance to show off my strong arms.”

“oh, really?” y/n playfully challenged, her eyes twinkling. “i didn’t realize you were so confident.”

“i’m always confident when it comes to you, baby,” jude said, his voice dripping with affection.

as they continued their playful banter, jude’s kisses grew more lingering. he pressed his lips to y/n’s neck, his breath warm against her skin. her eyes fluttered shut, a shiver of pleasure running through her.

the elevator doors opened, and jude carried y/n down the hallway, their laughter and teasing filling the space. the camera followed their every move, capturing their loving interaction.

as they reached their hotel room, jude kicked the door open with a gentle slam, his arms still wrapped around y/n. the room was bathed in soft, warm light, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere.

“careful, baby,” jude murmured as he lowered y/n to the floor, his hands lingering on her waist. “i don’t want to drop you.”

“don’t worry, i trust you,” y/n said, her voice filled with affection. she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. jude’s hands roamed her back, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened.

“this has been amazing,” y/n whispered against his lips, her eyes full of love. “thank you for making it so special.”

“anything for you, baby,” jude replied, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re my everything, you know that.”

with a final, lingering kiss, jude broke away just enough to look into y/n’s eyes. “now that the cameras are off and i i’ve got to show how much i love my beautiful, talented girlfriend. i think this next part should be for my eye’s only.”

y/n’s smile was a mixture of excitement and anticipation. “oh? and what do you have in mind?”

jude’s eyes sparkled with mischief and love. “you’ll see,” he said, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “but for now, let’s just say that the night is ours.”

as the door to the hotel room locked with a soft click, the final scene of their music video came to a close. jude and y/n remained in their embrace, their hearts full of the love and passion they had shared throughout the day.

with a final, affectionate kiss, jude guided y/n towards the plush bed, their laughter mingling with the gentle hum of the city outside. the world outside faded away, leaving them wrapped in their own little bubble of happiness, ready to enjoy the rest of their night in each other’s arms.

© PDRIESTA 2024

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[shitsndgiggs]

heyyy Kaya!

im so sorry again haha i feel so greedy. May I have a fic where reader x jobe bellingham. Reader is also from Birmingham and has been Jobe’s childhood best friend. And finally when he goes to Sunderland Jobe begs her to stay with him and they both open up on their feelings for each other tyy

JUST WANTED TO SAY UR MY FAV WRITER EVER. IM SO HAPPY YOU WRITE. MASHALLAH. THANK YOUUU FOR TAKING IN ALL MY ANNOYING REQS HAHA

COME WITH ME - JOBE BELLINGHAM

Jobe asking you to move with him

Jobe Bellingham x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The news hit me like a punch to the gut—Jobe was leaving Birmingham. He was off to Sunderland for a new chapter in his football career, and even though I knew this was a big opportunity for him, it made me nervous.

The thought of him leaving, of being so far away, made my stomach twist.

We’d been best friends since childhood, growing up side by side on the streets of Birmingham. He was always there, and now, everything was about to change.

I sat on the edge of the park bench where we’d hung out countless times, my mind racing.

Jobe was pacing in front of me, hands running through his hair, eyes flicking to me every few seconds like he was trying to gauge my reaction. “You’re not saying anything,” he mumbled, his voice edged with worry.

“Please, say something.”

I finally looked up at him, my heart heavy. “You’re really going to Sunderland, huh?”

He stopped pacing, his expression softening. “Yeah... it’s a big move, but it’s the right one for my career.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “I know. You’re gonna be great there, Jobe. I just...” I trailed off, unsure of how to express the pit in my stomach. “I just don’t want you to forget about me.”

He blinked, stunned. “Forget about you? Are you mad?” He dropped onto the bench beside me, his knee brushing against mine. “There’s no way I could forget you. You’re my best friend. You’ve always been there, ever since we were kids.”

“But it’ll be different,” I muttered, staring down at the grass. “You’ll be up there in Sunderland, making new friends, living a new life. And I’ll just be... here.”

He was silent for a moment before letting out a deep breath, turning his body to face me fully. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I frowned, glancing up at him. “What do you mean?”

Jobe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous. “I don’t want to go without you,” he blurted, his words rushing out. “I don’t want to leave you behind.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I don’t want to do this without you,” he said, his eyes pleading. “I need you with me.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. “Jobe, you can’t just take me with you. It’s your dream—”

“And you’ve always been part of that dream!” he interrupted, leaning closer, his voice earnest. “You’re my lucky charm, Y/N. You’ve been there for every big moment in my life, and I don’t want to do this without you.”

My heart pounded in my chest as he continued, his words coming fast and a little frantic. “I need you there. You’re not just my best friend—you’re everything to me. I didn’t want to say anything before, but... I have feelings for you. I always have. And I can’t imagine going to Sunderland and leaving you behind. I can’t...”

His words started to jumble together as he rambled, trying to convince me. “We could make it work. We could get a place together, and I promise it wouldn’t be weird. Or, well, it might be at first, but we’d figure it out. And I’ll be there for you, I swear. We could—”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could finish his sentence, I reached up, grabbed his face between my hands, and pressed my lips to his.

The world seemed to freeze. His breath caught, and for a second, he didn’t move. Then, as if everything finally clicked into place, he kissed me back.

His hands slid up to my waist, pulling me closer as the tension and nervous energy between us melted away.

When we finally pulled apart, he stared at me, his eyes wide, his breathing uneven. “Does this mean... you’ll come with me?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You really do talk too much, you know that?”

He grinned, his hands still resting on my hips. “Yeah, but... you love it.”

I smiled, my heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Yes, Jobe. I’ll come with you.”

His grin widened, and he let out a breath of pure relief. “Good, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I leaned my forehead against his, our noses brushing. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jobe let out a soft chuckle, pulling me closer. “Thank God.”

[fairyrcts]

dreams, fairytails, fantasies , n.d.

by fairyrcts contents - intended lowercase , 3rd person , use of y/n , unprotected sex (not recommended) , cursing , praising , semi-public sex , male masturbation , virginity loss (not mentioned) , mommy kink , overstimulation, breeding

(an - ik y'all said you wanted chris fic first but i was too eager to write the nate one)

y/n walked up and down the rows of seats as she tidied up after the hockey game.

her father was the coach, so she always stayed later after the games to pick up anything left behind and help her dad with whatever he needed.

she'd bent down to pick up a foam glove that was left. her light blue mini skirt rode up her thighs as she reached down.

nathan, who was taking off his gear in the bench area, had thought everyone including y/n had left.

he'd always see her with her dad during the pre-game pep talks, sometimes she'd sit and watch them at practice, or just cleaning up after everything had been finished.

although the only thing he knew about the girl was her name and father's name, he had the biggest crush on her.

he'd glance over at her in her skirts and lacy tops or tight, soft colored dressed that made him want a taste of every curve on her body. her innocence and naivety made him want him for himself even more.

nathan stood up with his skates and pads in his hands. he walked out of the closed in area and into where the seats were. he glanced around for a sec before his eye's landed on y/n.

unknown to him, y/n had a slight thing for him too.

when he'd take off his helmet and his hair would stick to his forehead as he panted. or when he'd take his jersey off after playing and he'd be left in his white tanktop, his mucles shining due to the sweat.

she'd direct her gaze towards him every time she'd watch the team play or practice. seeing up get sweaty and angered out on the ice had the be one of the most attractive thing ever.

she was bent over, picking up things from the floor. her skirt was way up and her pink lacy panties caught his attention.

he was in a state of shock for a moment as he stared at the unaware girl in front of him.

he walked closer, decided to speak to her.

"hey, y/n. i didn't know you were still here." nathan spoke in breathy tone, causing y/n to whip around.

"hm? oh, yeah. no, he left a little bit ago but there was still stuff to be cleaned up. you did really good by the way. my dad says you're pretty talented." she gave him a toothy smile as she talked to the brunette.

nathan's grin became wider as those words came out her mouth. "thank you, really."

"yeah, anytime. well, i'll be here for a bit longer, so if you need anything just let me know." she was a very generous person.

generous enough to help with the ache in his pants? no, no, he shouldn't be thinking that stuff.

"will do. nice seeing you." he reciprocated her smile and made his way toward the locker room.

nate immediately yanked his clothes off, tughing his pants off as quick as possible.

he sat on the bench in the locker room as he pulled his boxers down to his ankles. his tip leaked pre-cum, it dripping down his length.

he balled his hand into a fist and began stroking himself. he was so sensitive just his own touch caused him to moan out loudly.

he let a line of drool leave his mouth and onto his dick. "mm, fff-uck, y/n. i- holy shit, keep goin'."

he imagined y/n's mouth on his cock, her throat stuffed and her lips puffy from his length.

y/n finished cleaning the bleachers and made her way towards the garbage can that sat beside the entry to the mens locker room.

she threw away all the trach she'd collected and was getting-ready to leave til' she heard her name being called.

"mm, y/n. jjust like that, yes ma'am."

she tightened her thighs together to keep her mind away from the wetness in between them.

she cracked the door open slightly, nate's head turning the second he heard the creak of the hinges.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't know you were in here. sorry." her words were rushed as she shut her eyes abruptly.

nathan panicked to get his boxers back on. "no, shit. no, uh, youre good."

"uh, were you calling me?" she asked, her voice unintentionally innocent as she opened her eyes slightly. her eyes went wide at the sight of his dick, fully visible from his boxers, a small wet stain were his tip sat.

"uh, nope. wasn"t callin' ya. must've been like, uh. i dunno." nate's eyes looked everywhere but her as if trying to take away the attention.

y/n let out a soft giggle at the sight of him awkwardly trying to end the damn conversation. "i mean, it's alright. you're not very quiet. do you, uh.. need some help?"

her tone sent aches through his body, his cock pulsing through his underwear. "i-i, i'm sorry? say what now?!"

she chuckled once more at his stuttering voice. "c'mon, just sit back. let me show you."

nate thought he was living one of his own fantasties as he wobbled back onto the bench beneath him.

y/n undid the bow in the back of her shirt and pulled down the skirt she wore with it. she was left in her bra and panties, which she took off slow and seductively.

she now stood naked in front of the brunette boy. nathan's eyes just stared at her as he was frozen and stiff. if you squint, you could see his dick get even harder under his boxers by the second.

she scooted closer to him. "wanna take it off for me?" her voice was low as she played with the waistband of his underwear.

"i-yup." his obedience was so attractive. she knew he'd listen well.

he quickly yanked them off before sitting back on the warm bench.

y/n straddled him, his dick not in her cunt quite just yet. she began sucking on his neck to get him just a bit more excited before finally letting her hips move down onto his soaked cock.

the sound of her dripping pussy and his absolutely messy cock made nate's mind fuzzy.

he let out a loud, guttural moan at the new feeling. "holy fuck, mommy- fuck! i-"

he couldn't even form a coherent sentence just one pump in.

"just relax. i've got you." her words were hushed as she whispered into his ear.

she slowly moved her body up and down his length, going all the way off and back on him each time.

the feeling of her tight cunt on his absolutely aching dick was already too much for him.

"mo-mmy, no, please keep goin'."

y/n couldn't say no to her handsome boy. happily, she obligiged, bouncing herself up and down on his dick.

after only a few minutes, nate was so close. "fffuck, i c-can't no more. pleasepleaseplease."

"nuh uh, you can keep going, be a good boy for mommy , hmm?"

her voice sent him over the edge. he just couldn't anymore. he needed to release and make a mess inside of her.

"pleaseee, i need to. i-i've been good!"

he had behaved and listened fine the whole time. she debated wether or not to let him or have more of her own fun.

she ultimately chose to let him for his benefit. she'd enjoyed teasing the boy enough.

"mhm, go ahead." and almost instantly, he came all inside her. the moan he let out was louder than before as he let his juices release in the girl's pussy.

"goody boy." she whispered softly in his ear before she stood up, nate wincing lightly.

"b-but, i didn't get to make you feel good."

"some other time, baby."

[corpium]

In which Harry takes a wrong turn chasing down Bellatrix in the Ministry, and typical tomarry time travel ensues. Only in this fic, Voldemort follows Harry back into the past.

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

Voldemort surveys the wreckage of the Time Room with a strange mix of dismay and disappointment. Potter’s nowhere in sight, and neither is the prophecy. Rogers is present, though, his head aging and deaging cyclically.

Voldemort eyes him curiously for a split-second, but he has no time to study this odd phenomena now. He summons a pinch of time sand from amidst the shattered remains of the time turners and enchants it, then summons Rogers’ panicking form over to him.

“Be still,” he orders, then, with a flick of his wand, sends the sand spinning around Rogers’ face. It sinks into the Death Eater’s skin, and at last the transformation stops, leaving Rogers as the adult he should be.

“My Lord!” the man gasps. “Thank you, thank you, I—”

“Enough,” Voldemort hisses. “Where is Potter?”

Rogers pales. “He—he—Bellatrix—they were fighting and he just—he vanished, I don’t know—”

Voldemort grabs Rogers by the jaw, yanking him close, digging his nails into the man’s skin. “Lord Voldemort does not have time for pathetic stammering. Show me.” He doesn’t bother securing the Death Eater's permission before diving into the man’s mind.

Voldemort pushes Rogers away once he’s finished, letting him fall to the floor. Voldemort observes the room, casting several charms to detect traces of magic. Despite a moment of dismay at the possible loss of Bella, he’s tempted to believe Potter has vaporized himself by messing about with such turbulent magic. The boy's disappearance would certainly make Voldemort's circumstances easier, but he had so wanted to demonstrate his superiority before his followers.

“My Lord,” comes Lucius’s voice from behind him, and Voldemort turns to find Lucius dropping into a kneel in the Time Room’s doorway. “The Aurors have been alerted to our presence.” Lucius keeps his head down, so he misses the quick look of perplexity that crosses Voldemort’s face.

“Did you do something to your hair, Lucius?” Voldemort whispers. From another, the question would sound flippant, teasing perhaps. From him, it sounds terrifying, and rightfully so. Something in the universe has gone terribly wrong.

Lucius looks up haltingly. “No, my Lord.”

Voldemort stares. “You are telling me that your hair has always been brown and curly,” he says lightly.

“Yes, my Lord.” Lucius’ voice shakes.

Voldemort directs his gaze to Rogers, who has copied Lucius’ kneel. “Rogers? Is that so?”

Rogers’ gaze darts between Voldemort and Lucius, trying and failing to hide his bewilderment. “Y-yes, my Lord,” says Rogers. “As long as I have known him.”

Salazar preserve him. “Your parentage, Malfoy. Tell me.’

“…Abraxas Malfoy and Miranda Percell,” Lucius stammers.  

Miranda Percell. Voldemort only vaguely recalls the name from his schoolboy days.

He turns his back on Lucius and Rogers to observe the Time Room. “Guard the room,” he tells them. “Let no one in at any cost.” He steps inside, repairs the door, and casts a variety of locking and secrecy charms on it, effectively sealing himself inside indefinitely.

He’s going to need as much time as possible if he’s to figure out how to stop this madness.

Potter’s rewriting history.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Department of Mysteries Division of Time only sees true time travelers once every decade or so, and thank Merlin for that, because they are usually major divas who think that the world revolves around their personal (and frankly, incredibly overinflated) tragedies.

Greg had only just handled the most recent time traveler a month ago (maaaaybe unofficially, but who could blame him? The paperwork alone would have had him working overtime for years if he'd have had kept the incident entirely above board), so he’s quite looking forward to a quiet, uninterrupted decade of intellectual exploration and experimentation. At last, some damn peace around here. Now the real work can be done--and he can get home on time! His Kneazle might finally stop tearing up his furniture in retaliation for his tardiness.

So when a new time traveler arrives with a bang that sends Greg’s equipment flying mid-setup (thankfully contained within its own wards, but still entirely disrupted), Greg curses violently. And only ten minutes before the end of his shift, too! He should really assign himself some new hours.

“Merlin’s tits! Goddamnit shit balls! Circe herself better hold me back, the next time traveler who thinks their inane crisis is my problem is going to—is going to…” He stumbles on his words. His newest traveler, a handsome man with aristocratic, dark-haired features and remarkably vivid burgundy eyes, is holding a wand to Greg’s throat.

“Do you often receive time travelers in this department?” the man asks him quietly, casual as can be, as if he isn’t holding Greg at wandpoint.

“Not usually, no,” Greg answers hesitantly, internally cursing his foul luck. This one probably came from some post-apocalyptic hellscape he’s trying to prevent, given how quickly he’s turned to violence. In Greg’s experience, this type is far too mercurial to be trusted.

“Recently, then?” asks the man, arching an elegant eyebrow.

“Maybe,” answers Greg. There’s no way this man could be from the same future as last month’s traveler. That would be impossible.... Right? “Why?” Greg asks, ideas churning. What if it is possible? Why, if the two travelers are so connected as to cross time and all its variables to reach each other, figuring out the how of it could be the breakthrough of the century—nay, the millennia!

“I’m looking for a boy. About sixteen years of—”

“Goes by Harry?” Greg asks quickly, excitement making his hands twitch. “Lightning bolt scar on his forehead?”

The man smiles dazzlingly, and for a moment, Greg forgets that there’s still a wand at his throat. “That’s the one,” says the man, looking an odd mix of ecstatic and relieved.

“You must be the godfather,” says Greg, flipping open his notebook. “You must tell me everything. This is entirely unprecedented in the world of transtemporal migration. When—”

The man holds up a hand. “I’ll happily tell you everything, but first, I need to see the boy—Harry. I need to make sure he’s okay. Surely you understand?” The man says it so earnestly that Greg nearly scoffs. Time travelers and their Merlin bedamned emotions. The traveler clearly won’t tell Greg anything useful until his silly sentimentality has been satisfied.

“Fine,” Greg says with a put-upon sigh. “Let’s get your new identity sorted out first; then I’ll take you to him.” Greg summons his book of spare identities. “I’ve already set the boy up as the son of two Muggleborns, so I suppose it would be a bit much to set you up as the same.” He turns a page. “How do you feel about being a halfblood?” Greg looks up to see the time traveler watching him intently. His gaze, unblinking and still, is rather unnerving actually. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Greg asks.

“Many would certainly hope so,” says the traveler. “You’ve provided more than enough assistance, Greg. I’ll take it from here." And before Greg can realize what's happening, the traveler murmurs, "Obliviate.”

***********

This was born from an amazing Discord chat from months and months ago, the screenshots of which are... somewhere lost on my hard drive, hopefully (curse you, OneDrive and your stupid storage!). Idk how far I'll get on this fic because it's kinda my brain empty but I must write backburner for when I get stuck on other stuff, but I think it'll be fun. Pretty lighthearted, too. Well. I say lighthearted. Which means it will start lighthearted and then devolve into angsty angst with a heavy side of comic relief, probably.

Who knows lol. We'll see!

[edwinisms]

literally I have not written this much in the span of a couple weeks since like. mid high school. so around 7-8 years ago. what has this show done to me

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[chocolatepot]

I've been so stressed today and yesterday that my whole body hurts. 😩 Not even over anything special, half of it is just my brain telling me things are going to go badly down the line, probably. Hurts so much I might take a covid test just in case.

[cookiecomics]

.

[aparticularbandit]

haruhi's immediate hatred of yasuke is just. so much fun to write.

i love her.

[novelconcepts]

i don't make resolutions, but if i did

it would be to finish this fic

(and to be kind to myself for however long it takes to actually do so)