#but its such nonsensical crack shit like how could i

[quimichi]

˚✦ ˑ 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐫, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭? ִֶ 𓂃⊹ - MDNI

WARNINGS: NSFW - MDNI, Pet names, sexual behavior, name calling, some a bit rough and mean

SUMMARY: They took your virginity. Case solved.

CHARACTERS: HSR Men X F!Reader (no aged up Charas)

WORD COUNT: 13.150

Argenti

All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch you, juices dripping down. His tongue softly rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting you, a masterpiece. And you can’t help but moan out at the new pleasure. His fingers hit that spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes and back, you desperately arch with another whine. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure. It's overwhelming you, he promised to be gentle, and he is. But never once did he tell you how good this will all feel.

“S-Shit Argenti-, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice begins to crack, your hips bucking widly as he speeds up. And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you. Not only is it a pleasure to please you, beautiful you. It's a pleasure to be your first. It sends a wave of possessiveness through his body.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his glistening fingers running up to your waist.  “Such a dirty little rose,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck, hair tickling your skin. “Youre a sight to behold, breathless, dazed...divine.”

Aventurine

“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip on your throat. Its not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know his hand is there. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out, huh?” You're unable answer him, the only thing you manage are whines and moans slipping through his fingers through your throat. He'd be mean to not let you moan out like a bitch in heat after all. Aventurine smirks knowingly, continuing his assault on your insides.

“Can't believe no one ever went inside you, youre far too good. Shit-you love it too, don't you?” You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand travels down your tummy, the soft touch sending waves to your core. His fingers eventually find your clit, rubbinh the swollen skin over and over again. Your eyes glaze over and roll back, it's too much, too much!

Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake and back arches. “Mine, ok? Youre mine, my girl. You don't mind do you? Surely you don't...look at you, sweet girl.”

Blade

“feels s’fucking good—“ you mindlessly babbles out. His large palms are stretched out on both sides of you hips, nails digging into your skin. “Such a greedy little pussy,” he groans out with another roll of his hips. “keeps suckin’ me back in…you're a little greedy slut, hm?" he teases.

You can feel his hot breath fanning your ear while his dark hair tickles your neck. The sloppy sounds that fill the room seem to only grow louder with each thrust, as your arousal practically drips down his balls. Headboard constantly hitting the wall. You wouldn't be surprised if something would break this night, and it doesn't need to be the bed.

“if you keep moaning like a bitch in heat, i won't fucking stop,” he hissed out, as he presses down on your stomach which makes you whimper in response. "Naw, look at that," he points at the bulge in your stomach, "that's me all the way inside your greedy cunt."

Boothill

"you still good, darlin?" he asked, amused, his hands moving up to grab one of your tits, giving it a squeeze with his cold hands. He hummed at your subtle nod, his fingers pinching your nipple from below with just the right amount of pressure to bring you to the edge but not send you over. He knows he could do this for hours, his stamina is much longer than yours after all, but he doesn't want to push you just yet.

"shit.." he cursed, though not out of frustration, “your pussy is driving me crazy." he whispered against your folds, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your entire body, it almost felt as if you were being electrocuted or something. “its so fucking pretty for no fucking reason...”

Caelus

“shiiit-just like that...” he mumbles out as he lazily guides your movements, helping you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. Hands softly gripping your hips as he guides you. He smirks when he heard your whine as a reaction to his groans, golden halflidded eyes stare up at you. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re like this, so desperate for him yet so adamant on not asking for his help. You had no idea what you were doing, well, neither does he. But you insisted on riding him.

“doing so well,” he says with a slight whine as he thrusts his hips up in time with your movements. It doesn’t take much effort for him to flip you over and have you at his mercy. Your legs are now lifted over his shoulders while his dick is fucking you even deeper, "sorry,-shit-sorry I couldn't-hold myself back much longer-!"

Dan Heng

“just as i expected, it slipped right in...” your arm immediately slung over your face to hide your embarrassment. Something about the way he talks to you has you throbbing.

“fuck, so deep inside you already.” he breathes, as he eases his way into you. He's so painfully splitting you open. You whine and whimper, it feels too good to be true. “that’s it, there’s my girl.” his raspy laugh fills the silence. “youre doing so good for me, just a bit longer, ok?”

He speeds up his thrusts, "eyes on me," he says, "you can do it, eyes on me." And when he hits just the right spot, your eyes roll back and flutter closed.

"Good girl."

Dr. Ratio

“it hurts, doesn't it?” he whispers, no mock, no tease, unusual for him. He knows it hurts, he's just deep enough inside you, balls deep.

“yes, it hurts…” you whine, eyes watering as you adjust. He’s letting you distract yourself a bit, letting you soak up the pain with pleasure. “… so bad.” you keep whining.

"I know, it will get better." he presses his hips flat against you, just to slowly drag his cock out of you again, leaving just his tip inside. “Doing good for a first timer. Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you need to know.”

You nod desperately, biting your lip between your teeth.

“I'll be slow, we got time.” he mumbles, a sick grin painting across his face. He'd be lying if he would say he doesn't enjoy the power play that's going on at the moment. "I'M gonna teach you everything you need to know."

Gallagher

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against your ass. Youre breathing hard, chest heaving. But you can't help but lean back against his chest. He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit. His breath is hot against your ear as he chuckles at your reaction. His middle finger slips between your folds and gathers some of your arousal to use it at your clit again. Once he had your hips jerking and whines leaving your lips, he slips two of his thick fingers inside. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

“I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at his arms.

He slips his hand out of your pussy again, letting his tongue run over his fingers, lapping at your juices. He hums, as the taste hits his tounge, “Shit, girl. Got me addicted already.”

Gepard

“That’s it.. Just like that..” He takes hold of the hand, kissing your knuckles, whispering soft praises into your skin to help you work up courage to keep riding him. He knows it's embarrassing for you, he knows you doubt yourself. But he also knows that you can do it.

“Doing so good for me, ok? So good, keep going..”

It takes his everything to hold back his hips and not fuck up into you, it's all too inviting.  He holds you, wrapping both arms around your torso and pull you close to his chest. One hand slips down to your hips, guiding you on his cock. "Like that, yeah."

Hot breaths reach your ear as he hums in approvment. "Good...shit--good."

Jing Yuan

“ass up. There you go, atta girl.” and you almost shiver from his touch on you'd hips as he turns you over. Jing Yuan stares at your ass, bringing a rough palm towards your left cheek. “Mm, nice. You're doing good. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you...for now.”

As he speaks, your cheek presses further against the pillow, hiding in embarrassment. Jing Yuan watches as your ass writhes and he hums, springing out his thick cock. “I'm going in, ok? No need to be scared”

“ok...” you breathe, big talk for someone who probably has way to much experience for his own good.

"I'll go easy on you, I promised you that birdie." He whispers in your ear as he leans over, slowly pushing in.

Jiaoqiu

He dives in, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds. He laps at you hungrily, savoring your taste as he eats you out with wild abandon. His tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. “you're so hot...,” he hums against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “thank you for the meal...”

Your finger desperately looking for support and found his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails in the process. You can't help but let one hand wander to one of his ears, tugging on it. Immediately a whine leaves his lips as he laps on you more desperately than before.

He doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with broad strokes of his tongue before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling greedily.

"Do that again and watch me eat you up."

Luka

Luka leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. His hands grip your hips hard you feel like you might see some bruises tomorrow as a souvenir.

"Damn, you take my cock better than expected, baby," he rasps against your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Way to fucking well, you sure you're a virgin?" he breaks the kiss to gaze down at you. “look at me,” he commands, "that pussy is mine now. Mine."

As you meet his eyes, he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck-didnt know you could get any tighter."

Luocha

The next thing you felt was his cock entering you all at once, barely giving you time to get used to his huge size and thickness. Hes not a mean man by any means, but he figured that maybe him going in faster with the ammount of slick you already got, might be less painful. Wronh judgment in a hazy moment. And fuck if he didn't love feeling the way your cunt stretched to accommodate him, how your walls are so tight around his length.

When he did it, it was over for you, and you thanked him with the most beautiful sounds he ever heard. You squeezed him and croed out, making a mess of yourself as you grab onto his shoulders for support. It all was too much for you, too much happening all at once. But you'd be a lair to say you didn't enjoy it.

He would slowly start to run against you, holding your hips in place as he drags his cock in and out of your hole. His slow speed was annoying, painful, but so good.

But the best feeling was yet to come.

“Just you wait once I'm done with you. We'll have plenty of time left to get to know each other much better."

Sampo

Without warning, he pulled out – only halfway – and plunged back inside you with an almighty push. It .ade your eyes roll back into your skull, your mind went blank for a second. His teasing laugh pulling you back into reality, "Oops-went to hard there~" As a apology he went softer on you, slowly dragging his cock in and out of your hole.

“Doing so well for me,” he groaned, as he lightly speed up again, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"Damn-" he groans as you grap onto his shoulders and dig your nails in. "Careful there baby, you don't wanna hurt poor Sampo, hm?" He laughs again as he kisses down your neck and leaves yet another bite behind.

"We could do this more often, I know I wouldn't mind."

Sunday

The all so collected man practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back. You unknowingly push him against you, silently asking for more. "Needy, needy." he teases as breaths in your ear, giving it a soft kiss afterwards.

“Dont you worry, I'm not done with you yet.”

Although his words came out more scary than they should, his action of hiding into your shoulder makes it all seem more pathetic than dominant. His wings flutter as your parted lips let a whine escape.

He groans, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. Your nails dig hard into his scalp.

“That came...rather unexpected.”

Welt

“it won’t fit!” you sob out loud. No way this all will fit inside you, you never took anything, or anything that size. He's bigger than you, this wont fit without tears. But you're determined today, telling him you wanted to fit everything in you.

He trails his fingers up and down your side before one hand snakes down to thumb at your clit while the other large hand clasps your hip. "i'll make it fit, and I'll be careful." he promises, soft as he pleasures you. You expected nothing less of him, he always treated you with more care than any others. He softly rubs your clit as he enters, a way of distracting you from the pain that you will encounter.

"there you go, told you I'd make it fit."

[darlingdaisyfarm]

───୨ৎ praise that old man, girl!

a/n: i adore Stanley Pines and apparently im not alone because the amount of asks i got for nsfw with this man?? who am i to deny the people what they want?? also one anon asked for public sex with Stanley sooo here you go angel!

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal and oral sex (f receiving), age gap, dirty talk, older man/younger woman, degradation + praise, size kink, dumbification, public sex, rough sex, breeding kink

You hadn’t exactly walked into the Mystery Shack with dreams of employment. Stan had hired you on the spot, half-serious when he said he couldn’t afford to be picky. “you got a pulse? can count to ten? good, you’re in,” while shoving a broom into your hands.

You’d been working here for a while now and Stanley Pines had somehow, against all reason, taken a liking to you. You weren’t like the other employees, you were sarcastic and always ready with a quick comeback. It didn’t take long for Stan to notice and he loved the fact that you didn’t take his shit. He loved how you could dish it out just as good as he could.

You genuinely liked your work. The old place had its charm and Stan, despite his grumpy act, was actually funny in his own way.

You were sharp, quick with the same kind of deadpan humor Stan wielded like a weapon. when tourists asked the weirdest and dumbest questions as “how does this yeti paw feel so real?”, you’d shrug and go, “oh, Mr. Pines wrestled the guy for it last spring! you should’ve seen him in the ring.”

And somehow, your nonsense never grated on him.

He’d grumble about you “driving him crazy,” but the truth was, he admired how you handled people, how you could spin up a lie on the spot and sell it with a sly smirk. Even when you worked him up, you had a knack for knowing how to make him laugh before he could stay mad.

Like the time you’d swapped the “do not touch” signs in the gift shop with ones reading “please steal this.” When Stan stormed out of his office, you barely flinched. “don’t blame me. Soos did it,” you’d said again and he’d folded his arms, sighing.

“Kid, you’re gonna give me an ulcer.”

“Then you’ll get to take a vacation, Mr. Pines.”

You had a way of making him feel younger, somehow. Not just the old man with a bad back and a million regrets. Around you, he felt like the guy who still had a chance to make someone smile. And god, he loved that.

Because, god, you talk back, crack jokes, get in his face with that stupid grin of yours. And he knows you know how to get under his skin. It’s annoying and hilarious at the same time.

You’re a disaster of a worker. He’ll admit that to anyone, but for some reason, Stan forgives you. every time. “who did this? who messed up the brochures?” and you always say the same thing “Soos.”

And fuck, he adores it, the way you lie so easily and confidently. He's not mad, but charmed by it. And maybe a little turned on too, but he’ll never admit that out loud.

“You know, i should fire you, right?”

“Yeah, but you won’t, cause i’m too cute, Mr. Pines.”

Stan had wanted to stay mad, but how could he? Every time you messed up, he found a way to let it slide, not because you were good at covering your tracks, but because you always knew just what to say, how to make him forget the shit you’d done. You made it all worth it.

The pick-up lines started a few weeks in. At first, they were awful, so bad that you’d nearly die of secondhand embarrassment. “you must be tired, ‘cause you’ve been running through my mind all day, doll,” he'd say with a lazy wink. and, of course, you’d always have something ready: “you should probably take a nap then, Mr. Mystery, you’re getting old.”

The first time Stanley tried to flirt with you, he didn’t know how it’d feel. He was always smooth, always had a line ready, but it always went wrong with you. “you know, i must be a snowflake ‘cause i’m falling for you.” but before he could even get the whole line out, you shot back, “snowflakes melt. Is that really how you want to end up?”

He’d blink, caught off guard, then chuckle. “smartass.”

But Stan, the bastard, he loved that about you.

He loved how you never pretended to be anything you weren’t. No frilly nonsense or sugar-coating, just honest humor that reminded him of his own shitty jokes. You didn’t back down, never tiptoed around him, and he couldn’t even be mad when you lied about the mess-ups.

His flirts were always the same, predictable, corny, but somehow, Stan delivered them with the precision of a seasoned performer. He would laugh at your attempts to flirt back what made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “you’re cute when you’re trying to be a romantic,” you say as you lean against the counter with a teasing grin. “but i’m still gonna need a drink to believe you.”

Stanley grew bolder though. “if I were a few years younger. . .”

“You’d still be a pervert?”

“Nah, just a smooth talker, toots,” he’d grin, trailing his fingers over a stack of papers as you walked past, brown eyes never leaving you

The more you two exchanged these ridiculous lines, the more the tension built. The fake flirting, the dumb compliments, it was a game to both of you and neither of you could stop playing.

The shack is empty, just for now. It's an early morning in Gravity Falls, the aroma of coffee that Stan insisted on brewing too strong fills the air. He was at the counter, organising some brochures for the tours, his usual tourist-trap grin nowhere to be found yet.

Tourists haven’t arrived yet.

You were running a little late today, again. Not that Stanley really cared, but he always pretended to. The man was predictable like that. By now, you’d learned that his bark was worse than his bite, though sometimes, you didn’t mind the idea of getting a little bitten.

You walk into the Shack with coffee in one hand and bag slung over your shoulder, the creak of the floorboards greeting you. Stan was leaning against the counter when you came, scribbling something on his clipboard, his back turned to you. And that’s when you saw it.

He wasn’t wearing his girdle and it was impossible not to notice the soft swell of his stomach beneath his shirt.

Fuck. You swallow hard, trying to act normal, but there’s no stopping the heat pooling low in your belly. Mr. Pines, all thick and broad, strong arms, messy morning hair, his belly curving under his chest, that's just too much

And while anyone else might have held back, might’ve thought better of sneaking up on their boss, you didn’t hesitate. The moment you saw him, your lips curled into a smirk.

He hasn’t noticed you yet.

Stepping closer, your let your hands slide over his clothes until your palms rested against the warm curve of his belly. He jumps immediately, his hand jerking across the paper, leaving a thick, jagged line of ink.

“What the— hey! what’re you doin’, kid?!”

“Just admiring my boss?” you grin wider, leaning into him.

Another grumpy “pfft. yeah, right.” comes your way when Stan moves to brush your hands away, but you just dig your fingers in harder, letting your breasts press against his back.

“You’ve been hiding this from me all this time? What a shame.”

His face burns instantly, bright red flushing up his neck. “dammit, don’t go grabbin’ me like that! i’m too old for—”

“Oh, come on,” you cut him off, crowding him against the counter. “you’re not too anything. in fact,” your fingers dip just slightly below his beltline, teasing. “i think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Perfect? hah, are you outta your damn mind? Look at me! I’m no spring chicken, alright? i’ve got—”

“Got what, Mr. Pines?” you interrupt. “nice body?” your nails scrape lightly against your boss, earning a shaky exhale from him. “i like it. a lot.”

“Cut it out, kid, this ain’t the kinda body women go crazy for. You’re wastin’ your time”

You frown. “says who?”

He huffs in embarrassment. “C’mon, you've seen it. I'm too old and- and uh, rough around the edges?”

“Damn, exactly what i like,” his whole body stiffens under your touch. “big strong hands, broad chest and this belly, i want all of it, Mr. Pines.”

“You got a filthy mouth, y’know.”

“Oh, i had a good teacher.” you giggle, feeling him already getting hard. “you ever been touched like this, Mr. Pines?”

Stan exhales hard, irritated and flustered. “‘course I have, don’t talk like I’m some goddamn virgin.”

“Thats not what i meant.” your nails scrape, dragging slow over his belly, over the dips and curves.

He tries to change the tactics then. “listen, sweetie, i’m too old for this shit, alright? you- you deserve some young, pretty guy who—“

“Who what? who doesn’t look half as good as you? who can’t make me laugh the way you do? who doesn’t make me want to do this? i like it thick, broad, strong. You could just throw me around and have your way with me, Mr. Pines.”

Stanley fucking stops breathing. Hes hesitating because he doesn’t want to admit he’s just as fucking hungry for this as you are.

He runs a hand over his face, trying and failing to keep his composure. “You- you’re crazy, y’know that?” but you always knew how to get under his skin.

“Admit it, you’d miss me if i wasn’t here to keep you on your toes.” your fingertips graze his bulge once more and that's it. Stan’s breath stutters in his throat.

“Hot belgian waffles, you better be serious, sweetheart.” he’s already turning, crowding you against the counter, gripping your waist, your hips, your ass.

“Why wouldn’t i be?” you gasp after you say the last word when he palms your tits, kneads them roughly.

“You wanna be fucked like that? like a real man oughta do it?” he leans closer to your face. You nod too eagerly and Stan doesn’t waste a second “we better make this quick,” while his fingers already yanking at your clothes, dragging you onto the counter, pressing his mouth to yours.

Quick. Ha.

Stan kisses like he’s trying to eat you alive, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moan, grinding against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing into your stomach

You should have known better. Should’ve known better than to touch him like that, to let your fingers linger on the soft curve of his belly as he stood there, all unbuttoned and exposed. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because the moment your hands landed there, the pull was too strong, and you knew that if you didn’t take it now, you’d burn up inside.

“You sure you want this, baby? ‘cause once i start, i’m not stoppin.” you nod, gasping for breath, and that’s all he needs. “good, i’ve been holding back long enough.” he gropes you, touches you everywhere, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” your bra is barely on you before he’s palming your tits, squeezing rough, thumbing your nipples, watching them peak.

He licks his lips, then leans down and latches on. Wet, sucking, pulling noises fill the Shack. You arch, whimper, push into his mouth and he groans. “needy little thing, ain’t ya?” he switches breasts, drags his tongue over the swell, teeth scraping before sucking your nipple into his mouth, rolling it, flicking it.

Stanley Pines, despite his gruff exterior, is a sweaty mess in front of you. A man that had given up, probably, on ever being seen as sexy. That’s what made it so deliciously easy to shatter him. To break that cold shell. Because he didn’t see it, did he? He didn’t see how much his body, his age, even his wrinkles, didn’t matter to you. You just want him to feel it. You want him to feel desired, so badly.

“Fucking hell, yer driving me insane, toots.”

You laugh breathlessly. “don’t be so dramatic, old man. You’re tougher than you look.”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one,” he growls as he pushes you back against the counter, gripping your thighs.

His mouth is on you again, kissing down your neck, biting, his tongue leaving hot scorching wet trails that fill your stomach with butterflies. You grind against him, feeling the press of his cock through his pants.

“You want this, huh? want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in?”

“Yes, i need you, Mr. Pines.” your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Stanley presses his thick fingers against your underwear, circling your throbbing clit through your panties, drawing soft sounds from your lips.

“Already so wet. Hell, you’re gonna take me so good, aren’t ya? this tight little pussy’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You moan, your head falling back, your body arching against him as he works you with his fingers faster, harder.

“Please, please, please, need you!” then, out of the blue, or maybe because you're too lost to even care so you'd mumble everything that comes out of your mouth, you quietly admit. “Mr. Pines, f-fuck, ive touched myself to the thought of you—”

Stanley looks at you. “say that again.”

“I've thought about you, i fingered myself imagining it was your cock.” you say quietly, looking at him with little hearts in your puppy eyes.

“Jesus christ, you filthy little thing.”

“Stan—”

“Mr. Pines.” fuck. the way he corrects you, heat coils in your stomach, between your legs. “You wanna get fucked good, you use the right name.”

“M-Mr. Pines—fuck, please—” his fingers press harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit.

“Soaked. And i ain’t even touched you yet.” you whine, pressing into his hands, your hips twitching. And that bastard laughs. “poor thing, you really need it, huh? sweetie, you’re lucky i’m not makin’ you beg for it.” yet, he forgot to add.

You’re about to retort, but then his fingers slide your panties to the side, spreading your folds, dragging through your wet slit.

“Fuck, baby, dripping all over my fingers.”

“N-need you—”

“Aw, yeah? that so?” he pushes a finger in your pussy so fucking slow, savouring the way your little cunt takes his thick digit, already imagining how perfect it'd be with his cock instead. “tight angel, fuck, so tight.” Stan manhandles you roughly, spreading your legs with his hands, kneeling in front of you, about to devour you whole. You feel his hot breath against your core and when he leans in and his tongue finally licks a long, slow stripe through your folds, you swear you see stars.

“Taste even better than i thought,” he groans, voice muffled against your pussy. His big hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking like a man starved.

“Mr. Pines—oh my g-god—” Stanley keeps grunting and moaning, the vibration sending shocks through your body.

“Fuck, keep sayin’ my name like that. Can’t get enough of you, doll.” his warm tongue flicks your swollen clit and he slides two fingers into you, curling them, scissoring. Your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down with one arm across your stomach. “Stay still, princess, let me take care of you.”

You’re already close and he knows it, his fingers pumping into you faster, his mouth relentless on your clit. You fall over the edge with a cry, your thighs trembling as he works you through it, fingers still moving, tongue still teasing, until you’re begging him to stop from overstimulation, tugging his hair. Stanley pulls back, lips and chin glistening and grins like the filthy bastard he is. “cant believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.”

He stands, towering over you and you reach for him, fumbling with his belt. When the metal buckle clinks loudly in the quiet of the Shack, Stanley impatiently shoves his pants down to free himself.

Your gaze drops and your eyes widen. Jesus christ.

“Like what you see?”

“I’d be stupid not to,” you grin, reaching out to wrap your fingers around him, making him curse under his breath, his hips jerking into your hand as he grabs your wrist, guiding you to pump his hard length slowly.

But you two don't have much time so he holds your panties aside with one hand, lining himself up with the other and with a single thrust, Stan buries himself inside you, stretching you so perfectly it makes your vision blur.

“Fuck,” his hands grip your hips so hard you were sure there will be bruises. “you’re so fuckin’ tight and warm. Goddamn, sweetheart.”

Your response breaks off into a whimper as he starts moving, slow at first to let you get used, his hips rolling into yours smoothly.

“That’s it, take it, baby, all of me.” you let out a soft moan, looking down where you both connected and he grins, pressing his hand against your stomach, where the outline of him bulged beneath your skin. “look at that, i’m so fuckin’ deep, i can feel myself here. You feel it, baby? feel me stretchin’ ya open?”

You nod frantically, your head spinning with every relentless thrust as he stretches you in ways you didn’t think possible. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, your body arching against him as he sets a brutal pace, driving into you over and over again.

“Such a pretty little thing, lettin' an old bastard like me ruin ya.”

You can only nod, your needy voice lost to the pleasure as youre getting fucked that good, right here in the Shack, where anyone could walk in.

He’s watching you, watching your pussy stretch around his fat cock, watching the way you tremble. His big hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, forcing you to take all of him.

“Bet no one’s ever fucked you like this before, huh?” he slams into you again, making the counter creak beneath you. Using his strong hands he keeps you in place as his cock drives in and out of your dripping, swollen cunt.

“C'mon, answer me, baby,” he growls, his hand sliding up to grab your jaw, forcing your glazed-over eyes to meet his. His cock buries deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. ”didn’t ask for silence. you ever been fucked like this before?”

Your eyes are closed as you shake your head, whimpering. “n-no.”

“No, what?”

"N-no one’s ever fucked me like this, Mr. Pines—”

“Good girl, use your words,” Stan grips your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. “tell me how much you love this cock.”

“S-so much,” you manage to choke out between pathetic whines and mewls, your brain turning into useless mess. “i love it, i love you, Mr. Pines, don’t stop!” tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Poor thing, all those boys before me and none of ‘em knew how to stretch this perfect cunt open right.” he shifts his hips, grindings his cock against your walls, making you sob. “bet they didn’t even know how to fuck you proper, huh? didn’t know how to make ya beg?”

You shake your head and gasp, clinging to him.

His hand slides down your body, rough fingers rubbing over your swollen, sensitive clit. “owwh, they never even made ya cum, did they, sweetheart?”

“No, they didn’t, Mr. Pines.”

“Fuckin’ shame. all those useless boys, never knew what they were missin’.” his thumb circles your clit. “but don't worry, this pussy’s mine now, ya hear me? No one else’s. I’m the only one who can fuck ya like this, make ya feel this good.”

“Mr. Pines, ple-please. . .’

“Please what, sugar?” he pants, fucking you so deep you swear you feel him rearranging your insides.

You sob, tears spilling from your pretty eyes. “p-please, make me cum—” Stan doesn’t let up, not even for a second. His cock is buried so deep inside you that you can barely breathe and think, barely do anything but moan and take it like the filthy little thing you are.

“Aw, baby, you gonna cum already? just from my cock stretchin’ ya open like this?” you nod, your body tightening around him. “fuck, that’s right, sweetheart, squeeze me just like that. Never thought i’d get to ruin somethin’ so perfect.” his pace picks up, his cock pounding into you so hard you’re sure the counter’s going to break.

You were supposed to keep it quick. just a little pre-tour fuck as you both said.

But thirty minutes turned into sixty and sixty turned into absolute depravity.

The counter was first, but then Stan couldn’t stop. His cock is buried deep inside your soaked, needy cunt as his hands hold you while he thrusts into you.

"Fuckin’ christ, doll, this pussy’s gonna be the death of me."

You had your legs around his waist, arms locked around his neck, Stanley fucking into you so deep you felt like you’d pass out. But then he lifted you up, didn’t even bother pulling out, just carried you like you weighed nothing, still fucking up into you, and took you across the shack like a man possessed.

“Mr. Pines!” and “so good!” were the only words you knew.

“Thought we were keepin’ this quick, huh?” he grunts. “then why the fuck can’t i stop?”

You can’t even answer because your mouth is too busy moaning, gasping, babbling absolute nonsense while he splits you open, every inch pushing against your soft, sensitive walls, stuffing your tight pussy full.

You arch your back, sobbing, because you need it fast again, rough again, animalistic again. And he fucking gives it to you, by grabbing your thighs, folding you in half and absolutely destroying you.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl, letting an old bastard like me ruin this tight little pussy. Even dreamed about this, ugh, layin’ awake at night, fingers buried in that needy little cunt, wishin’ it was me.”

What can you say except loud “yesyesyes!” gasps? However, Stanley is satisfied with that.

“Yeah? bet you’re never gonna want anyone else fuckin’ you again.”

He doesn’t stop. Every display case. Every fake cryptid setup. Even the damn vending machine.

“You're so fuckin’ wet, doll, i could slide into this little cunt with no effort at all.”

Fake exhibits? fucked over them. That fake monster cage? Bent over it. That dusty-ass animatronic Stan managed to steal? yeah, he fucked you right in front of it, hands gripping your ass, hips slamming into yours so hard the damn thing started moving

Stan literally punched it to shut it up.

But did he stop? no.

“Shut the hell up, buddy,” he muttered to the machine, before shoving his cock back inside you and making you scream.

but the final round?

Staff room.

Both of you panting, sweaty, while he takes you from behind, balls slapping against your throbbing clit, the slick sound of skin on skin echoing through the empty Shack.

Or, well, not so empty anymore, because suddenly you hear the honk of a tourist bus outside.

Stan’s head snaps up. “oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me—”

His eyes dart to the stupid clock on the wall and he actually freezes for a second.

“We— we were supposed to open, like—shit, twenty minutes ago.”

“So? keep going.” you say lazily under him.

“Oh, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” but does he stop? does he fucking stop?

No, no he does not. Instead, he fucks you harder.

“I'm gonna make this quick, baby, gonna fill you up real nice, then i gotta—fuck—gotta get to work—“

But then— “uh, Mr. Mystery?”

fuck.

Stan’s body locks up and you both freeze. The voice is right outside the door. Stanley lets out the deepest, most exhausted sigh. “Uh, yeah?”

The tourist hums. “sooo i was wondering, when does the tour start? we’ve been waiting outside for a while.”

Stan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “yeah, yeah, uh, give me five minutes, kid, i got, uh, got a bad back today, y'know? just need a second to—uhhh—” you clench around him, tight, so fucking tight and his words cut off in a groan.

He glares at you. you just smirk.

“You okay in there, Mr. Mystery?”

Stan forces his voice steady. “yeah, yeah, just—” he grits his teeth. “just need a minute to stretch it out.” he snaps his hips forward, stuffing his cock back into your cunt, deep and slow, forcing you to feel every thick, throbbing inch

You whimper, just to fuck with him because this old man is so funny when annoyed.

“Fuckin’ hell, stop that.” he growls under his breath at you.

But the tourist won’t leave.

“So, uh, what’s the official policy on taking pictures of the fake exhibits?”

Stan’s eye twitches, his hips jerk forward involuntarily and you let out a choked gasp.

The tourist pauses.

“Mr. Mystery? are you sure you're okay?”

Stan immediately shoves a hand over your mouth. “Told you, just back’s actin’ up, kid.”

The tourist keeps talking.

“What do you think the likelihood is of alien activity in oregon? because personally, i think—”

You clench around him again. Stan chokes on a groan, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries to keep his voice normal.

“Listen, kid, why don’t you, uh, go look at the gift shop or somethin’, huh?”

“Oh, but i wanted to ask about—”

Stan loses it

“NOT NOW, KID. TOUR STARTS IN TEN MINUTES. LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.”

“Ohh. . . Okay?” fucking finally, you hear footsteps and door creaking, that idiot leaving

Stanley slumps forward, forehead against your shoulder.

“Poor Mr. Mystery,” you tease, moving your hips. “just trying to do his job, but this damn girl won’t stop teasing him—”

“Ohhh, you thought you were so fuckin’ cute, huh?” the deep rasp of his voice sends shivers down your spine. His chest is pressed against your back, his weight holding you down while his cock still stuffed inside your ruined cunt. “moanin’ all pretty while i was tryna talk? teasin’ me in front of that dumbass tourist. Makin’ those fuckin’ sounds on purpose. Thought i wouldn’t do somethin’ about it?”

You yelp when his hand grips your hair, yanking your head back just enough to whisper against your ear. “you wanna act like a dumb little slut? then i’m gonna fuck you like one.” after that, Stan pulls out slowly, torturously just to slam back in.

You cry out. No, the sound you make would be better described as pathetic loud whine.

But Stan slaps a hand over your mouth, pressing you into the couch. “uh-uh, pretty, you don’t get to be loud now. you lost that privilege.”

His cock is so deep, stretching your cunt open, filling you completely. Every thrust is hard, brutal, messy, wet. Your pussy clenches around him, sucking him in, greedy for more as you whimper into his big palm. The couch creaks under you, the whole room still eerily silent except for the filthy, wet sounds of him using you.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby? thought you liked teasin’ me. now you can’t even take my cock?” as you nearly fall from the fast rhythm. Stan laughs against your ear. “thought you wanted me to fuckin’ ruin you, huh? turn this sloppy little cunt into my personal fuckhole?”

You can't even moan as Stan snaps his hips up, hitting so deep it knocks the breath from your lungs.

“What’s the matter, princess? feelin’ a little too full?” his belly presses against your back, his size overwhelming you, his weight pinning you down, making sure you can’t run from him as he grabs your waist, pulls you back onto him, forces you to take every inch. “ this little cunt’s gonna take every last drop, huh? ‘cause that’s what you are, ain’tcha?”

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your head so he can look in your glassy eyes.

“Say it, sweetie. Tell me what you are.”

Your brows knit together. “m’ your dumb little slut, Mr. Pines. . .m’ made to take your cock—” words come out barely coherent through the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the room.

Damn right. His hand slides down, finding your clit, rubbing it fast. Your body jerks, overstimulated.

“Too much?” his voice is mocking. “too fuckin’ bad, baby. Shoulda thought of that before you started actin’ like a brat.”

You’re already close again, what is it now, your sixth orgasm? Eighth? You shake too hard in his hands as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. make you fuckin’ mine. you want that? lemme hear you beg.”

”P-please. . . ple, mhm. . .hhng . .” your words muffled against his palm.

“Please what?”

“Please—please breed my messy cunt, Mr. Pines—please, please—”

“Holy shit, baby, you want me to breed this little pussy? want me to fill you so full you’ll be drippin’ down your thighs all day?”

You nod frantically and Stanley feels you smile widely against his skin what makes him laugh. Such a dumb slut you are.

“Greedy little thing. y'know i gotta work today, right?” his cock throbs inside you, stuffing you so full you can feel him in your stomach. ”but fuck- fuck, baby, can’t help it.” his hips snap forward, burying himself completely as he cums, making you feel every pulse, every throbbing rope of his hot seed spilling inside you, flooding your pussy.

Your own orgasm hits so hard your vision whites out, your cunt clenching tight, squeezing him, milking him dry.

“Oh, that's it, baby, there it is. Good little slut.” you collapse, trembling, fucked-out and absolutely ruined.

Stan stays inside you, catching his breath, watching as his cum spills out, dripping down your thighs. He leans down, kisses your neck. “gonna clean you up, sweetheart.”

You blink up at him through tired eyes, dizzy. “with what?”

He smirks. “my fuckin’ tongue.” uh oh, you guess Mystery Shack is gonna open late today because even though Stanley Pines has a job to do, first he’s gotta make sure his messy girl is properly taken care of.

[cmdrfupa]

What's My Age Again?

I can't allow his birthday to pass and post nothing. Happy Birthday to our husband, Toeji <3

Fluff, crack, suggestive but we are tame today!

“Birthday plans? You bent over the counter, ass covered in caramel and sprinkles.”

“For fucks sake, Fushiguro. Its Sunday.”

Toji smiled and kissed your cheek before rolling on top of you. “Even better. When you say ‘Oh God’, it won’t be in vain.” His hand traveled down to your waist as the rough pads of his fingers delicately traced your skin.

You laughed and it felt like heaven showed itself to him as your eyes closed and disappeared with every chuckle that left your lips. Your husbands birthday was coming up. What you thought was to be a special one. And it was only appropriate that you attempt to give him a sweet party with his favorite foods and favorite people.

“Baby. Be serious. Its a big deal. You’re turning 40. We’ve gotta do something to celebrate that.”

Raising his eyebrow and moving to sit up on his elbow, he mischievously smiled. “Babydoll, who told you I was turning 40?”

“Uhh well, Shiu told me that yo-”

“Shiu is playing with you and I am more so amazed that you don’t know how old I am without askin.”

Confused and honestly a little a perturbed, you sat yourself up, gathering the sheet to cover your bare chest. “Okay, lets be clear here. I asked Shiu 6 years ago at that party he had for his wife how old you were because you were being all elusive and shit about it.”

“And he told you 34?”

“Yes. he told me you were 34.”

“Sweet pea. I’ve got a 19 year old. That would’ve made me a teen dad.”

Even more confused now, you furrowed your brow. “No offense Fushiguro but if you were getting around the way you were in your 30s, I-”

The scar over his lip rose and he squinted “I’m going to pretend like you weren’t going to say that.”

Your giggle was almost immediately muffled by his attack of kisses. “You’ve got the hottest dilf this side of the Meguro river. That’s all that matters.” He spoke into your neck and wrapped his arms around you.

“I suppose so. But I want to have a little party for you. Something more than just a cake, a vacation and me bent over whatever surface you request for that year.”

“You’re saying this like it isn’t the best gift every single time.” Toji laid his head on your chest, kneading and almost settling into your bosom like a cat. “And every year we go through this where I sat its not a big deal and you say-”

“But it is a big deal!” you both spoke in unison as Toji raised the pitch oh his voice to tease you. You thumped his forehead and he squeezed you with a grin.

You could leave it alone. Let ignorance be the blissful heaven it was meant to be and pretend to be okay with not knowing his age.

Or you could let that nosey trait do its job and find the truth.

“You’re right. You can be 75 and I’ll still want to slide down your chest.” you winked and wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him closer.

“Atta girl.”

__--------------

The air in Shiu Kong’s office carried a faint whiff of leather and expensive cologne. It was the kind of place that screamed, “Don’t bother me unless someone’s dead.” You had only been here a handful of times, one to drag Toji’s ass out by his collar when he was attempting to get back into the business and the other when needing to drag Shiu’s ass out because his wife couldn’t find him. But today was different—you were here on a mission.

Shiu looked up from his desk as you entered, his eyebrow arching in mild surprise. “Well, well, if it isn’t my preferred half to Toji. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need your help,” you said, plopping into the chair on the other side of his desk. “And by help, I mean information.”

Shiu smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Let me guess—Toji’s in trouble again? Or did he finally admit he lost that bet to me?”

“We’ll circle back to this betting nonsense,” you replied, folding your arms. “But I want to know how old he is.”

Shiu froze for a beat, then burst out laughing—a deep, throaty chuckle that made you regret walking through his door.

“I’m serious!” you insisted, leaning forward. “You gave me some dumb answer a few years back and you know him. He keeps dodging the question, and I know you know the answer.”

“Of course I do,” Shiu said, still grinning. “But what makes you think I’m going to tell you? This is gold. Why would I ruin the fun?”

“Because I’m desperate,” you admitted with a sigh. “He’s been deflecting all week—kissing me, telling me shit about our upcoming trip, changing the subject, the usual. I can’t let him win.”

Shiu tapped his chin thoughtfully, the smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s in it for me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “The satisfaction of knowing you’ve driven me one step closer to sanity?”

“Tempting, but no.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Here’s the deal: I’ll give you a hint. Just one. But the rest? You’re on your own. And I want a pot of budae jjigae.”

“Fine,” you said, gripping the armrests of your chair. “It’s a deal. What’s the hint?”

Shiu grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Let’s just say… Toji’s age is as elusive as his sense of responsibility. But if you really want to know, hes got this old duffel bag he’s had since I’ve known him.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t even considered that.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “That things like a treasure trove wherever he has it now. But I’ll warn you—whatever you find, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Got it.” you said, standing up. “Thanks, Shiu. I’ll have your stew by the end of the week if this is at all helpful.”

“I like it spicy. And extra spam. Don’t forget!”

“You both eat like teenagers. No wonder your lady likes when we have potluck nights.”

Shiu shook his head, his laughter following you out of the office.

­---------

Back at home, the closet was a mess. Toji’s version of “organized” could only be described as controlled chaos, with jackets tossed over boxes, stray weapons stashed in shoe racks and decade old pants flung on random shelves. You stood in the middle of it all, hands on your hips, staring at the heap of items you’d pulled out in your search for the infamous duffel bag.

“This man,” you muttered under your breath, tossing a rolled-up hoodie to the side. “How can he be so good at avoiding questions but so bad at cleaning?”

After moving a pile of shirts that hadn’t seen daylight in years you were sure, you finally spotted it—an old, worn duffel bag shoved into the back corner. Its faded black fabric looked like it had seen better days, and the zipper was barely holding on.

“There you are,” you whispered triumphantly, dragging it out and sitting in the center of the closet.

As you observed the bag to see where to start, something slipped out from the side pocket—a small stack of photographs, edges slightly bent with age. You picked them up, curious, and settled onto the floor to take a closer look.

The first photo caught you off guard. It was a black-and-white image of a young boy, maybe five or six, standing stiffly in front of a grand but cold-looking building. The Zenin compound, you realized. His clothes were neat but clearly hand-me-downs, and there was a wary look in his dark eyes, as if he didn’t trust the person behind the camera. Next to him stood another boy maybe a few years older and an older gentleman clearly smiling with a hint of inebriation under his cheeky grin.

Your chest tightened. He’s told you about most of his chidlhood. From bits and pieces about his mother to the rougher experiences living with power hungry nut jobs. You knew enough to know it hadn’t been easy. But seeing it—this quiet, vulnerable moment frozen in time—hit differently.

You flipped to the next photo. This one was brighter, taken outdoors. Toji looked a little older, maybe eight or nine, holding a wooden practice sword. He stood in a training yard, surrounded by other kids who all looked sharp and polished. Toji, on the other hand, now had the cut on his mouth and dirt smudged on his shirt. But what struck you was the determination in his expression—like he was daring the world to knock him down again.

“Oh, Toji,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the edge of the photo.

The next image was the one that stopped you in your tracks.

It was Toji as a young adult, maybe twenty, twenty-one. He was sitting on a low wall, the setting sun casting warm light over his face. And he was smiling—not the smug, cocky grin you were used to, but a real, genuine smile. His hair was messy, and his posture was relaxed, almost carefree. For a moment, it felt like you were seeing a version of him untouched by the weight of the world.

Your heart swelled. You couldn’t help but smile back, as if the photo was alive and he could see you.

“What are you doing, snooping around?”

The sudden voice startled you, and you almost dropped the photos. Spinning around, you found Toji leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, but your words died as you held up the picture of young Toji. “Is this you?”

His smirk faltered. For a moment, his expression softened as his gaze flicked to the photo in your hand. “Yeah. That was a long time ago.”

“You look… happy,” you said softly.

He didn’t respond right away, stepping into the room and crouching beside you. He plucked the photo from your hand, his thumb brushing over the surface as if remembering the moment it was taken.

“I guess I was, for a little while,” he said quietly. “The compound was quiet as my father had left to tend to business which meant my cousin was off being a nightmare in someone else’s life for a few hours. I’d say I was feeling pretty good.”

You didn’t push him for more. Instead, you reached out and placed a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. “You deserved more of that.”

Toji glanced at you, his smirk returning—but this time, it was gentler, less guarded. “You getting all sentimental on me now?”

“Maybe,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Toji placed the photo back onto the stack, his hand lingering as if reluctant to let it go. “Y’know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I don’t keep these around to get all nostalgic. Just… sometimes it’s good to remember where you came from, even if it wasn’t great.”

You nodded, sensing the gravity in his words. “Makes sense. But seeing these, seeing you… it’s a reminder that you’ve come so far.”

Toji snorted lightly. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go writing me a Hallmark card now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, no sappy speeches. But I mean it. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here, still fighting. That says something.”

He gave you a sideways glance, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes before he masked it with his usual smirk. “Guess I have my reasons for sticking around,” he said, his gaze lingering on you just a little too long.

Your cheeks warmed, but you weren’t about to let him derail the moment. “Speaking of sticking around,” you said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “are you ever going to tell me how long you’ve been around? Y’know, your age?”

Toji smiled and went from a squat to sitting next to you. “You really don’t let up, do you? You really wanna know my age?”

“I’d sell a kidney ro know.”

He leaned back, groaning dramatically. “I mean, if you’re serious, I know a guy who would give you a great deal for one.”

You lighlty punched his arm before leaning your head onto him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. But don’t go telling everyone, got it?”

“Swear on my life,” you said, clasping your hands together in mock solemnity.

Toji shook his head, leaning in closer. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered his age, his voice low and deliberate.

Your eyes widened as you pulled back to look at him. “Wait, really?!”

He shrugged, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Told you it wasn’t that interesting.”

“Not interesting? Baby, you basically just told me a state secret,” you said, still processing the number. “You’re not getting away with that so easily. We’re revisiting this conversation later.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, standing up and ruffling your hair as if to dismiss the subject entirely. “Now, c’mon. If you’re done snooping, I’m starving.”

You huffed, but couldn’t help smiling as he headed toward the kitchen. “This isn’t over, Toji!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he called over his shoulder, his tone teasing but light. “Keep dreaming.”

You couldn’t help but think about that smile in the picture—the one you’d just seen mirrored, if only for a moment.

“Wait for me old man! I don’t want your hip to slip or you forget where the onions are!.” You yelled as you made your way out of the bedroom!”

“When I have you asking me to stop, I’m going to show you whose old, sweet pea.”

You couldn’t help but think about that smile in the picture—the one you’d just seen mirrored, if only for a moment. “i’ll have you begging for a life alert, big boy.”

Your man. Your baby. You Toji.

(I’m saying he’s 45 currently, final answer huehuehue)

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 2

Part One

...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.

this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened (also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)

-

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.

Every street stained red at least once in its many years.

Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.

Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.

Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.

When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.

It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.

Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.

Gotham was a place for Ghosts.

A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.

The dead came to fight

And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.

The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.

They weren’t prepared for Gotham.

Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.

Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.

Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.

Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.

The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.

Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.

He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.

What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.

The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.

He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.

A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.

“Down!”

He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.

Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.

“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”

She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.

The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.

He accepted it.

Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.

On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

---

Part Three

[supernotnatural2005]

Headcanon: Comforting you after a loss.

Pairing: Dean x reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of loss, angst, fluff, established relationships

AN: This is just a little something for @jackles010378, I'm sorry you're going through a difficult time, and hope this cheers you up some ❤️

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester

Dean isn’t great with words when it comes to grief—he knows there’s nothing he can say to take your pain away.

But he’s damn sure not going to let you go through it alone.

The moment he sees the heartbreak in your eyes, he'll pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he'll murmur, pressing a lingering kiss to your crown.

He would stay like that for as long as you needed, grounding you in his warmth, his security.

In the following days, he would watch over you like a hawk—not smothering, but making sure you’re eating, drinking, and not shutting down completely.

He’ll cook you your favourite food, even run in to town to get you your favourite cheeseburger if that's what you wanted.

If you can’t sleep, neither does he. He’ll stay up, letting you rest against him, running his fingers through your hair until it finally lulled you to sleep

And when the grief feels unbearable, when you finally break down in front of him, he'll just hold you, whispering soft reassurances.

“You don’t have to be strong for me, baby. Just let it out. I’m right here.”

He never rushes your healing, never tries to fix what can’t be fixed—he just loves you through it, in the way only Dean Winchester can.

Beau Arlen

Beau doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, but he knows one thing for sure—you’re his, and he’s not going to let you go through this alone.

The first thing he does is hold you.

Not just some half-hearted hug—no, he wraps you up in his arms, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, your forehead.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he'll murmur, his voice thick with emotion. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He checks on you constantly—bringing you coffee, making sure you eat, running his fingers over your back in soothing circles when you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed.

And when the silence in the house feels too heavy, he takes you on a drive—windows down, his hand resting over yours on the gearshift.

“Just us, baby,” he says softly. “Breathe.”

At night, when the weight of your grief is too much, he pulls you onto his lap, cradling you against him.

“I wish I could take this pain away from you,” he admits, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “But I’ll carry as much of it as I can, darlin’.”

He'll hold you for as long as you need, whispering sweet reassurances between soft, lingering kisses, letting you cry into his chest if that’s what you need.

Beau Arlen isn’t just your man—he’s your safe place, and he’ll spend every day reminding you of that.

Soldier Boy/Ben

Gif by @becauseofthebowties

Ben doesn’t do emotions. Not really.

He’s spent decades brushing off pain, cracking jokes, and punching his way through problems.

People cry? He rolls his eyes. People break down? He walks the other way. That’s just how he is.

But you? You’re different.

When he sees you hurting, something inside him tightens, and for once, he doesn’t have some snarky comment locked and loaded.

Instead, he stands there, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, unsure of what the hell he’s supposed to do.

At first, he tries to be himself about it—gruff, no-nonsense.

“Hey, shit happens. People die, the world keeps turning.”

But when you don’t react, when you just sit there looking so damn lost, he feels something foreign creeping in. Worry.

So, he does the only thing he can think of—he pulls you into his arms, tight, unyielding. His grip is almost bruising, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. 

“I got you, baby,” he mutters against your hair, his voice rough but lacking its usual edge. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He’s awkward about it—comfort isn’t his thing—but for you, he tries.

He sticks close, hovering even when he pretends he’s not. He won’t outright ask if you’re okay, but suddenly, he’s around more.

Sitting next to you, brushing his fingers against yours, silently daring you to take his hand.

When the grief finally crashes over you, when you collapse against him in sobs, he stiffens at first—old instincts screaming at him to run.

But then he melts, wrapping you up in his arms, pressing rough kisses to the top of your head.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. "I got you.”

That night, he doesn’t leave your side. He pulls you into his chest, holds you close, fingers tangled in your hair.

“You’re not alone, doll,” he whispers, voice raw. “Not anymore.”

And maybe he’s never said those words before, but for once, he means every damn one of them.

AN: Okay so this was a new one for me. A first try at Headcanon's 😅 I hope I've done it justice and cheered you up a little @jackles010378 ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben Tag List:

@happyfxckinghorrors @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @bettystonewell @nancymcl @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @paganvamp @deans-baby-momma @ladykitana90 @riteofpassage77 @jackles010378 @spnaquakindgdom

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"FINDING PEOPLE IS MY JOB" (PART 2)

Sooo, this is the second part of the little story I'm writting with Sergei, you have part one on my dash if you want to read it, I hope you like it! 😌👍🖤

Sergei strode down the road towards the black sedan where his brother was being held. These men were no nonsense, they were armed to the teeth, but he could easily defeat them.

He was the hunter, using all the methods of the animals to his advantage.

And no one can fight the strength of a lion, or the agility of a panther.

He quickly climbed onto the roof of the vehicle, pulled the handle to open it, but failed. It was clear that whoever these people were had been prepared for him: this car was armoured.

He left his place on top to hang on to the rearview mirror. The driver watched him with wide eyes, before making a sharp turn to the right with the wheel. Sergei held on tightly to keep from being thrown off. It would take a lot more than that to throw him off balance.

The hunter punched the window hard. The glass cracked, but didn't break. He kept hitting it until he could break it. He slipped inside, and opened the driver's door, throwing it out onto the road. He put the car on autopilot, and focused on the back.

A pair of men were guarding his brother, both of whom attacked him with knives. He quickly dodged them, before snatching their weapons and slitting their throats. He grabbed one of them and undid the ties on Dimitri's hands and feet.

"Sergei," he sobbed, his eyes watering, "you came for me."

"Of course I came for you," he replied, smiling reassuringly. "Are you okay? Can you move?"

-Yeah - he said, looking away at the road - that doesn't look good

Sergei looked where his brother was pointing and saw that, due to the damage to the sedan, the autopilot option had been disconnected, causing the vehicle to wander freely through the streets. At that moment, it was heading at full speed towards a glass building.

-Shit - he growled, gesturing towards his brother - hold on to me

Dimitri put his arms around his neck. Sergei got out of the car with the same agility with which he had entered, before they crashed. The sedan was destroyed, but they were alive, which was the important thing.

The hunter looked at his brother for a moment, assessing his damage. He didn't seem to have any bruises, nor any external indication that he had been kidnapped, but he was sure that all this was taking its toll on him inside.

-Hey, look at me - she ordered gently, he turned to look at him - everything is over, are you okay, do you hear me? - she asked, he nodded firmly - we will overcome this - she assured him -

-We always do - Dimitri answered, imitating her gesture -

-I'll take you to a safe place - he said - your girlfriend will be very worried about you

-My God, Ariadna! - she exclaimed looking at him nervously - Is she okay? Because if those bastards hurt her I will kill them with my own hands

"So that's her name" thought Sergei focusing his gaze on his brother

-Easy tiger, she's okay - she assured him - she's a very brave girl - she added as they walked -

-I know - he smiled dreamily - it's one of the things that made me fall in love with her

Sergei couldn't help but feel jealous hearing his brother talk about her like that. I mean, I knew she was his girlfriend and all, but I still got a bad taste in the pit of my stomach when he said things like that.

“How did you two meet?” she asked, interested.

“Hunting,” he replied, making Sergei look at him curiously. “Not like you think,” he said, smiling nervously. “A couple of months ago I went hunting by myself,” he began. “Dad was on one of his trips and I decided to try my luck on my own, so I went to the outskirts of town to try my luck.” He paused for a moment. “I caught a couple of rabbits.” He smiled proudly. Sergei nodded, before he continued with his story. “When I got back to the parking lot to get the car and go home, I felt a sharp pain in my ankle.” I looked down and saw a snake with light brown scales moving away from me as quickly as it had approached.

-A taipan – Sergei pointed out, Dima nodded-

-Yes – he confirmed – you know how powerful its venom is, so I couldn't help it: I fainted, but before I did I saw someone approaching to rescue me – he took a deep breath – I woke up in a hospital bed. My head was throbbing and I was so nauseous that I thought I would vomit even the first porridge, but at least I was alive. Then I felt someone approaching me – he smiled looking away at his brother – it was her, she saved my life – he murmured – I thought I was going to die, and seeing her when I woke up was… – he shook his head without knowing how to explain it – it's the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life.

-You shouldn't be alive – said Sergei, Dima opened his eyes wide-

-Really? -he questioned- after everything I've told you, is that all you have to say?

-Don't screw up with her, little brother -he whispered before adding reluctantly- she's a good girl

-The best –Dimitri corrected-

They walked for a while longer, until Sergei detected her scent again mixed with his brother's.

-This way –he gestured to her and they both entered a doorway and went up to the second floor-

-It's her office –Dimitri said after ringing the bell- she works as a lawyer

Sergei nodded for a moment, looking at the door carefully. He heard footsteps approaching.

-Who is it? I didn't order anything –said the young woman with a trembling voice-

-It's me, Ari –answered her brother-

-Dimitri? –she asked doubtfully before removing the locks from the door-

She opened it slowly and when she saw that it was really him she opened it wide and threw herself into his arms. They both hugged each other while the hunter observed the scene.

-I thought you were… -he swallowed hard- but you're here- she whispered holding his face in her hands- you're alive

-I am- she affirmed leaving a loving kiss on his lips- I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for my brother- she said turning to him-

Ariadna's gaze fell on him again. Sergei could clearly hear how her heart skipped a beat and then resumed its normal pulsations. Their gazes locked for a few moments before she spoke again.

-Thank you for bringing him back safe and sound - he murmured - I owe you

-Nothing like that - he replied - I already told you that finding people is my job, and that is exactly what I have done - he whispered - I have brought my little brother home, as I promised you

-Yes, you have - he replied, at the same time a blush covered his cheeks due to the intensity of his blue (and sometimes amber) gaze - let me serve you a drink as a thank you - he said kindly -

-Do you have alcohol at your workplace? - he asked, sketching an amused smile, while leaning against the wall of the landing - What kind of professional are you?

-Things don't always go well for me - she shrugged - and when that happens, a glass of vodka helps you see things more clearly - he looked at him attentively for a moment - What do you decide?

He smiled and after looking at his brother for a moment, he replied:

-I think I'll have that drink

Tags: @ladywhistledownx

[bulbabutt]

Thank you for being a bastion of sanity amidst the growing "but proshippers! But incest! But RPF!" purity culture's nonsense.

I'm so tired of being afraid to admit that I've even read a fanfic/fancomic because that same person might have a DIFFERENT ACCOUNT where they indulge in a problematic ship. And therefore they are "bad" and by association, I could be labeled "bad" for having looked at something completely unrelated and tossed on a block list.

It's asinine. Yet I'm too afraid to even get off anon because I know I don't have the mental fortitude to survive a potential online witch hunt.

So thank you, I wish you all the strength to keep screaming the words I cannot.

honestly youre not the first person to send me an anon about this, i just tend to feel just as afraid of responding to them as much as you are afraid of coming off anon. i think because while ill post things in vague context, it becomes another thing when someone says it out loud, yknow? but i appreciate it, knowing im not just screaming into a void where no one likes what i have to say.

i think what i will say is im not the only one who THINKS like i do, but i am just dumb enough to be loud and annoying about it. its kind of a thing where i'd never say anything specific because like... some people are so vicious and will demand blood if they get a whiff if i mention anything vaguely. the fact i have to be afraid to say 'people dont mind' for their own safety is crazy, huh?

i think that thing youre saying about being worried by association from association was the same first time i had this thought. i was reading something so good so deep something that effected me so deeply from how well it was talking about the realistic effects of incestuous abuse, and then i went to see what else the author had written and i was like. oh. theres just regular incest in here too. and that was kind of a moment of hm.. perhaps i need to think more about what really matters here. the fact i can engage with what i want and just say 'oh i see what else you do, thats not for me so i will just not engage with that'

so it hurts worse when theres the idea of someone engaging with art they like that has nothing 'weird' going on, then suddenly getting hit with screaming that that artist has a side account theyre not advertising where they make weird art that they are keeping FULLY separate from the account in question. like i do not see how that helps anybody in that situation.

then theres the generalization of it. the idea that maybe all you did was draw like. 19 yr old versions of two 15 yr olds kissing, and suddenly that gets you put on a list of people who will draw literal children in sexual situations, gets you put in that same boat without question. that shit is so cruel to me, that these things all get painted with the same brush. equally as bad, equally as deserving of being ostracized. or the idea that you get put on that list for not caring about if strangers ship things on the internet, makes you just as bad as someone who makes it. i really just hate this entire culture.

idk im... old school i guess? back in my day youd watch a shitty cartoon that had over 20 characters in it so you could smash them together in whatever ship suited you. crack ships were the bread and butter of me and my friends, shit that made no sense but in your own head. the idea of being anti... shipping at all is so... thats very weird. shipping as a thing is very much what fandom was ever made for in the first place? like. im not kidding, learn your history if you dont know that (middle age women shipping kirk and spock)

back when i was a kid i watched this tv show called kim possible, and i was a kid who didnt know shit about themselves seeing a pretty villain lady for the first time who called the main character who was a girl princess. i didnt know what to make of that, i didnt know the age difference between them i was a dumbass child, they were both drawn the same way! then im like 12 years old on the internet, i see theres a ship of the teenage girl and this like 30 yr old villain woman. do you think my 12 year old self saw the problematic nature and thought deeply about the morals of said ship? no. i was like 'holy shit i wish i was the teenage girl dating shego. why do i like this? oh god im a lesbian'

again. i was a child. what are you gonna do, go back in time and arrest my 12 year old ass for looking at pg rated fanart of women kissing on the internet? we didnt HAVE real representation yet! there was no korrasami, no rupphire, no bubbline, no lumity! shipping was the only place you could see stuff that was gay! and it being GAY would get you in more trouble than it having an age gap!

the fact is people WOULD cancel me now for that, wouldnt you?! thats where we're at. that IS a problematic ship, id be put on a blocklist in todays internet for being a child who crushed on villains. i didnt make it, i didnt create for it, i just looked at it and that would get you in trouble now!!! thats crazy.

i know thats a random tangent to go off on, but like..... hhhhh i dont know man. sometimes it seems like people want the internet to pass by broadcasting standards and practices and thats!!! bad!!! let people experiment with their weird shit as they figure themselves out, its so fucking normal. youre not a bad person for looking at things on the internet, youre not a bad person for engaging with things, youre not a bad person for being horny online! especially if you make your own fucking space for it?? a space easily blacklistable, with trigger warnings and EVERYTHING... we didnt have those when i was a kid, so some things are better, but culture is just worse.

i dunno. i just think i would not have thrived in this environment as a teenager. im glad im old and know better, but i worry about the lessons kids are learning from this. to feel ashamed, to bottle shit up, its not good for you. be kind to yourself, be kind to others. we're all working through shit in our own ways.

sorry for another long annoying post

[tashacee]

Imagining a scenario where Wild gets turned back into a Hylian but the others just freak out and reassure him that it's fine they'll figure out how to turn him back to normal no don't worry everything will be okay you don't have to pretend to like being Hylian for our sake, they're all brainstorming and Wild is just in the corner shrieking with rage because nobody will listen (the others think he's scared and keep trying to help which only makes him scream louder)

You know, I was going to do a short response to this but have a crack fic of my crack fic instead:

Aspects of A Misconception

“It’ll be okay, Wild.” Sky’s voice was soft and soothing, and any other time Wild might have been convinced.

But it wasn’t any other time. It was today, and today was going badly.

It was funny. Months of hoping and trying and the Aspect had just fallen off by accident. One minute he had been fighting a wizzrobe with the others and the next its spell had hit him and the Aspect had gone flying off. Wild had been sent tumbling across the field in his underpants, unprotected against the rocks and rubble on the ground.

Things happened very fast then. Hyrule and Warriors had dashed to protect him while the others killed the Wizzrobe.

Wild was… disoriented, to put it mildly. He hadn’t been hylian in a long time. He hadn’t been short in a long time. And he had no tail! How was he supposed to balance? He tried to scramble upright, to try and help in the fight, but he tripped over his feet and stumbled. If Wars hadn’t caught him he would have fallen flat on his face.

“Unnghh” he slurred. Dammit! It had been months since he had last spoken, since he had last had the ability to speak. When he had first come out of the Shrine he had to learn to speak again, like a small child, and it was happening all over again. “Whnnnnn.”

“It’s okay.” Warriors was saying, his voice unusually gentle and concerned. “It’ss okay, we’ve got you. We can fix this.”

Wild tried to stand again and fell again, and this time Hyrule pushed him down with a stern frown on his face, beginning to set to work healing the scrapes across his body.

Beyond them, the battle had ended and the rest of the Chain came jogging up to him. Twilight pushed through and knelt at Wild’s side, taking his hand. He looked horrified.

Was there something on Wild’s face? He reached up and gingerly felt his face - no, it felt the way it was supposed to, furless, scarred, no whiskers or snout.

“Hyrule, can you fix it?” Four was asking. Hyrule shook his head.

Fix what? He had literally just been fixed. He tried, unsuccessfully, to speak again.

“Hyruuuhhhg.” he coughed. Talking was hard! How did he go around doing it all the time? “Fiiihwaaaach?”

“Alright, everyone, move.” Time’s voice, as ever, had its low and commanding tone. “You’re crowding him. Wild, can you walk?”

Wild blinked and then nodded. “Yhhhhn.” shit this talking nonsense wasn’t working. Still, he accepted Twilight’s hand up onto unsteady legs. He was upright. Score! He took a step forwards.

His knees buckled and he fell with a shout into Twilight’s chest, weak as a baby. It was so hard to balance without a tail! How did these people manage?

“Okay.” Time stepped forwards and scooped Wild up in his arms.

“Yeek!” Wild screeched. This was just weird! He’d never been smaller than Time as long as he’d known him, it just felt wrong for the Old Man to be able to lift him up like a child. He tried to kick but his legs weren’t obeying him.

“Here.” Sky pushed his sailcloth onto Wild’s lap. “You must be cold, wrap this around you.”

Wild grunted. He was kind of cold, now that he didn’t have fur to keep him warm, not to mention that he was also, you know, in his underwear. He covered himself as best he could, but he still wasn’t sure what was going on, what was worrying everyone so much.

“Tahhhn,” he tried to say, tapping a hand on Time’s breastplate. “Whhn?”

“It’ll be alright.” Time murmured. “ Come on, we need to find somewhere to set up camp, then we can figure out how to change you back.”

Wait.

What?

No!

Ah shit, the Chain, the sweet, kind, well-meaning Chain had got it so very, very backwards. They thought that the Aspect was his true form and that he had been cursed into a hylian form by the wizzrobe.

“Nnnuh.” Wild tried to protest. “Ugh. Nnnnnuh.”

“It’ll be okay.” Time just repeated, completely misunderstanding but so very well-meaing,

Wild groaned and leaned back. Whatever. He would have to wait until they made camp to explain, but that was okay. Maybe by then he would have better control over his speech. He could explain then. It would be fine.

-

It was not fine.

“It’ll be okay, Wild.” Sky’s voice was soft and soothing, and any other time Wild might have been convinced.

But it wasn’t any other time. It was today, and today was going badly. Time had carefully set Wild down as they made camp and Twilight had hovered at his side, working with Sky to surround him with blankets and pillows, trying to make him comfortable. Wild still didn’t have enough control of his limbs to stop him.

“Ugh.” he tried to protest. “Twaaah, nuh.” this wasn’t working. He didn;t need swaddling like a child, he needed clothes. His clothes. He pulled out the slate and clumsily flicked through, selecting the champion’s tunic and a pair of shorts. Thankfully the Slate was able to put them onto him automatically. He probably would have died of embarrassment if he had to ask for help.

“Wild?”

Wild looked up. Wind was hovering a few feet away, chewing at his lip. He looked nervous, uncertain. Of course, normally he would be cuddled up to Wild at this point, running his hands through his fur.

Wild held out an arm, inviting him over.

Wind took the invitation and rushed to his side, curling into a ball and burying his head in his chest.

“Careful, Wind!” Sky admonished, but Wind ignored him, wrapping his arms tighter around his brother.

It was weird. Wind was still smaller than him but no longer by that much. Wild barely knew how to process it.

“We’ll change you back, Wild.” Wind was saying, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the tunic. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you your body back.”

“Ugh.” Wild couldn’t take this any more, he had to figure out a way of explaining. He held up his hands, asking for patience. He could sound it out if he just had the time.

Wild sighed. “Hmm.” he said. “Aaaa-ah. Aaa-ii. I. I ahhhmh. I ahhhhhhm huh. Ugh.” he cleared his throat, checking that his brothers were still with him. Yep, they were watching with wide eyes. Well, he supposed, it was the first time he had ever actually spoken to them. “I am. Huhhhhn. Huuuhhieee. Hyyyyllah. Hyliieee-yuh. Ugh. Fuchhh. I ahhm Hyliaaahnnnh. I am Hylian.”

Hell yeah! He did it!

Wind burst into tears.

Oh shit, he’d fucked up. He wasn’t sure how but he’d fucked up.

The sailor was hugging him again. Twilight looked pained as he gripped his hand. Sky was shaking his head.

“It’s okay, Wild, you don’t have to be brave about this.”

Wait.

“Nuh-ho.” Hell yeah, he was getting a handle on this whole speaking thing again. “No - I ahm hylian.” he pressed a hand to his chest. “Me. Muh-my bodiee. Me. Huh-hylian.”

“You don’t have to be brave for our sake.” Sky soothed. “I can’t imagine how frightening it is to be shoved into the wrong body.”

OH REALLY?

Wild wanted to scream. But he was pretty sure that screaming would only convince his brothers even further that he was just putting on a brave face.

So he took a deep breath, did his best to smile pleasantly, and tried again.

It was going to be a long day.

[lorebite]

HERO OF THE DAY | L.K

↳ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: being an anti-B.O.W agent has never been easy; and you more than anyone else know how lonely it can get in this line of living. However, what you didn't expect was to have your heart stirred when you set eyes upon one Leon Kennedy - the newest recruit. ↳ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fem reader. cursing. 2 part smut; voyeurism, implied masturbation, handjob, switchy vibes. some sweet gentle love making, Leon cumming too quickly bc he's too fucking sensitive (i swear, i couldn't resist it 😩), age gap relationship (younger man x older woman), reader is Leon's CO, pet names used for reader: Lieutenant, miss, sweetheart, honey. very subtly implied depression, PTSD and sducidal ideations, rookie!Leon. ANGST (beware. i mean it) but also some sweet, sweet fluff. reader is a smoker. mutual pining (kinda?). idiots in love (or lust?). reader shows questionable behaviors at times. title is taken from a Metallica song by the same name. this fic is a prequel to my return to ashes fic but it can totally be read as a standalone as well. in this universe, Sherry Birkin and Jack Krauser don't exist cos i think it makes better sense for this fic that way. very inaccurate depiction of military training and whatnot. also, terribly OOC.

In the beginning, the whispers were overbearing. Nonsensical. Rare was a time a new recruit managed to cause such a stir at the base. And this was even long before those sweet eyes became a constant presence amongst the rest.

You were vexed. Much more you cared to admit even to yourself. Leon Kennedy – this fresh-faced ex cop who witnessed the hell that was unleashed upon Raccoon City. You were certainly empathetic; having the unfortunate title of a walking hoard of scarring memories yourself, you held significant regards for the young man. And besides that, most recruits hadn’t the first clue about the horrors of your shared reality. 

However, you found it very hard to close your eyes to his bold antics. The same way every other one of his superiors – your colleagues – seemed to do. 

A real troublemaker, this boy. Not that you have ever caught him in his roguery. But you knew. That face was telling enough on its own; the permanent look of mischief in his eyes and the faint quirk of his lips that made it seem as though he was always up to no good. And of course, word was always quick to spread around the base of all the shit he liked to do. 

This boy had been caught out after the curfew one too many times; and for what goddamn reason each time, you could only wonder. You have seen him, multiple times, being dragged by the ear to someone’s office many early mornings. And you had to admit, he still had quite the mouth on him despite the number of troubles he got himself into. You were only grateful to have never been the one to deal with his shit, your patience too little to put up with such behavior.  

But it didn’t help that he was one of your combat trainees. And those times offered a glimpse into the cracks of his well-behaved façade. He always made sure to stand ahead of everyone in the training field – just within your line of sight where he could have your undivided attention. And he knew he had it. Fully and completely. It was easily impossible for you to ignore the way his clear eyes glittered in the sunlight or how his hair glowed like molten gold. And he knew all of that.

Even during partnered practices – those times when you treaded between the rows of trainees – those were when he truly shined. He would deliver his blows a little bit harder, grunt a little bit louder, or boast more self-righteously to his opponent. Just to draw your eyes to him every time you walked past him. It was as if he’d made it his days’ mission to pester you until you snapped. Because, obviously, you couldn’t punish him for just being a cocky showoff, could you? 

Now, to you, this wasn’t some peculiar behavior. You were used to becoming the currency for the attention slot of the younger men at the base. You were a hardened, experienced agent after all. An exceptionally talented yet young lieutenant with enough wins to your name to make an average man quiver in his shell just from your mere presence. The bonus factor was your incredible physic and a pretty face to go with which never failed to make heads turn. Therefore, very few and far in between were the times you were openly disrespected and many were for the recruits to seek your praise. 

However, often times, you spared no more than a few curt words of affirmation to your trainees; which you were confident they lapped up like starved puppies. It was entirely out in the open and this was also why you weren’t a stranger to being at the receiving end of your coworkers’ relentless teasing. You only imagined this to become even worse if it ever got out that you were involved with one of the recruits.     

But with Leon, it was different. With him, everything was different. He forced you to notice him even when you deliberately intended otherwise. It was too easy for him to walk up to you and gather enough courage to touch your shoulder when he threw his head back and laughed at your dry humor or palm the small of your back to guide you through a door. Almost as if he was driven by this quenchless greed to have your eyes on him at all times and envy when you didn’t. 

You could only wonder where you went wrong with him.

Because it was sorely pathetic. Truly. The stupidly large smile that would part his face into two upon the simplest words of praise out of your mouth was comical. And perhaps, on your better days, you found it endearingly entertaining. 

That was until your suspicions were proven correct. You had believed for long enough now that Leon Kennedy was nothing but a troublemaker and soon, you came to see for yourself why.

It was just another restless night for you; a regular one that fell into the damning familiarity of blood curdling nightmares, riddled with a crippling fear that trapped you within your shell and gripped your throat until it decided to let you go. The cruel souvenir of your missions and endless reminder of all you left behind and not. 

You woke soaked to skin with cold sweat, heart pounding painfully fast against your ribcage. You were still at the base in that shoebox you called your room. You were safe. You tried to remind yourself as your thoughts shifted to overdrive. Fast and unyielding. 

Moonlight filtered through the small window overhead, shedding columns of dancing shadows across the floor. You couldn’t let yourself just sit there and wallow in the darkness. You needed a distraction. So, you grabbed your lighter and a packet of cigarette and wandered out into the halls of the base in hopes of tiring yourself out enough to go back to bed for another hour of sleep. 

But you had only made it to the mess hall when you heard it.

Moaning. Giggling. They were hushed and cautioned but they were definitely there. It made your pulse leap and your hand freeze on the double doors leading into the kitchen once you turned one last corner. Your cigarette sat loosely between your lips as a trail of potent smoke flitted out into the air. This was beyond your fucking pay grade.

Hell, you didn’t believe you could recognize it but you did – the piercing tone of Leon’s voice was unmistakable. He was the loudest of the two, his small hoarse whines hitching every time his body thudded gently against the wall. Holy shit, you nearly blurted out; your eyes finally finding him in the darkness. His arms were pinned by his head, a nameless face buried in the crook of his neck and fuck if he didn’t look gorgeous like that.

You should’ve just turned around and walked away. You knew you should’ve. You should’ve resisted. But your brain failed to make that very simple command to your body. It instead flooded you with vivid thoughts of all you couldn’t see when you ducked back behind the corner of the wall, igniting a rebellious flame that quickly engulfed you whole. You stood there rooted to your spot, obtusely searching in the darkness as your ears rang with the shameless cacophony of pleasure.  

What the fuck am I doing? That remaining sliver of rationale screamed in your head, the burning heat of your cigarette creeping dangerously close to your lips. You were trembling, breaths labored, your one hand against the double doors clenched into a fist. 

It had been too fucking long. You were smothered in work and work and more work. Taking something for yourself, just for your own plain indulgence was never an option. Or rather, you never left the room for that option to grow. Now you were loitering – cowering in the dark, listening to your bratty trainee get fucked into the wall while you ached and questioned everything you once stood for. Really. What were you doing? 

You bridled at your newfound vulnerability in such a darned situation. So, you turned on your heels and hurried back to your room. Insomnia be damned. You had a throbbing need to nurse now. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered begrudgingly to yourself as soon as your back turned to the closed door of your room, fingers pressing ardently over your exhausted eyes. “Fuck. That was—”

But you shook your head, not allowing yourself to give anymore voice to your racing thoughts as you slipped back in your cot, twisting yourself in the thin white bedsheet and scolding your own misbehaving mind. 

But too long. It had been just too long. You’d almost forgotten you harbored all these emotions deep inside that cavity which was meant to hold your heart. Years and years of working yourself like a machine finally collapsing to bits over your head. Why did it have to take him for you to realize? Why this?

And maybe one of these days, you’d curse yourself for it. But right now, you were brimmed full with want and it didn’t take long for your fingers to slide between your thighs and seek release to the filthy thoughts of that same recruit you’d sworn yourself off of. Oh, how shameful indeed. But this was your reality now.

Weeks after that night were hellish. Purely torturous. You could no longer be around Leon and not be reminded of that mouthwatering image of his fucked-out face burned in the back of your mind and the memory of what you did with it; as much as it made a gnawing guilt rise like a choking lump up your throat. 

Leon’s goal to claim your attention was ever set in stone. And now, he intended to plant the seed of desire in you as well. Or perhaps, this was probably just you. You were almost convinced you were deluding yourself. But ignoring your newly budded suspicions offered very little resolution. Because you couldn’t ignore him. Not once did he yield his ways.

His touches had become more constant and lingering. His eyes practically two devouring maws downing you in one gulp. He only needed to open his mouth and he would dig a hole for your resolve to lie in. Yes, Lieutenant. Right away, Lieutenant. The way his tongue rolled around your title, and the way his voice swooped into a low melodious hum whenever he spoke it made your pulse race every damn time. The obedience and politeness a stark contrast to the devilish look on his face. 

It was indeed infuriating the level of power he seemed to hold over you now. It was as though your places had been swapped. You were now at his mercy – of what he found frustratingly entertaining at your expense. 

And finally, one late afternoon, his advances became much more targeted.

Mere minutes. That was all it took after your training ended for him to come barging into the changing room. You were only dressing back into your uniform when the door creaked open. You looked over your shoulder long enough to see Leon stepping in before you turned back around.

“Trainees aren’t allowed in here.” You commented flippantly. Though you didn’t believe that was enough to convince him to leave. He hardly ever sought you out privately like this so it had to be important. “And you forget how to knock?”

“I need to talk to you, Lieutenant.”

You hummed, sliding your fingers beneath the straps of your leather harness as you turned around to finally face the young man, brushing off the warm jolt of your heart upon hearing your title from his mouth again.

His eyes trailed the movement of your fingers donning your gloves. Those strong, deadly hands who were the despair of many enemies. He wondered how gently you’d take to him if you had the chance, burying such care and tenderness into his skin that could make him melt in your arms. The mere thought of it was making his knees grow weak. 

It took him a moment before he offered a hurried salute, a furious blush fanning across his cheeks. You bit your lip as it forced to twist into a playful, knowing smile.

“I think I might need some help with my—with my form.”

You arched a brow. Leon didn’t need help. He was the golden boy. Any recruit would be damn lucky to possess a shred of his prowess. But you decided to humor him nevertheless.

“But you’re acing all your trials. What’s the problem?”

And there it was. That charmed grin that broke upon his face immediately at your remark. An amused smirk finally tugged at the corner of your mouth as you waited for whatever excuse he was going to come up with, his intention growing quickly evident to you. 

“More training never hurt—right?”

Your smirk widened. “You mean you’re not sick of it, yet?”

A small smile ghosted over his lips, his eyes growing soft with fondness as he cocked his head. It made the hair bristle on the back of your neck, taken off guard by the sheer delicateness of his behavior. 

“I could never get sick of you, Miss.”

“That’s the spirit, rookie.” You sat a gentle hand on his shoulder and his eyes flickered down to where it touched him. Your crooked smile returned to your lips. “But don’t worry. I’ll push you so much you’ll be begging for it to stop. There’re still months away from your first mission.”

“You really think I can make the cut?”

“Depends how bad you want to become throwaway meat.” You snarked, scoffing a laugh.

Leon frowned and the cold pinprick of realization of your own words swept over your face. Perhaps it was too soon to start talking to an overeager recruit about the indefinite lows of being an agent. You didn’t know anything about his motivations or what he really believed he was going to get out of this decision that begged a lifelong commitment. But then again, he, of all people, had to know what the future held for him… right?

“Listen—” You breathed out a sigh, squeezing his shoulder fondly before letting go. “Let’s focus on getting you through the rest of your trials first. One step at a time, hmm?”

He gave a slow nod, fingers clasping in front of him, wringing and fidgeting. The conversation seemed to be over now but he remained there, lips flickering wordlessly as if he wanted to speak yet again.

“What is it? You wanna say something?” You prompted.

Leon began chewing his lip, immediately drawing your gaze to his mouth. You swallowed dryly as you drank in the tempting pink of his plump skin turning white under the assault of his teeth. Your mind instinctively wandered to the sweetness of his mouth upon yours, the warmth, the delicious moans he would utter against your lips. Fuck, snap out of it, you chastised yourself.

“Well—you know how none of the other trainees can keep up with me.” He started, cheeks endearingly flushed red, breath stuttering when you stepped closer to him. “You’re the best around here and I know you can take very good care of me.”

Even though he was peering down at you, that mischievous look on your face didn’t fail to make his heart stagger. As if you could see right through him. And of course, why wouldn’t you be able to? A woman of your caliber had her fair share of admirers. He for one knew what the boys in the barracks whispered about you when the lights were off. Hell, he was sure even some of your colleagues had the eyes for you. And to say that made him jealous was laughably undeserving of its true nature.

“I know one on one training with you would do me good.” He smiled. “And maybe you, too. I’m sure you’re aching to get your fists on something.” He tilted his head to the side, gaze burning deep into yours. “I’d offer myself.” 

You tossed your head back and laughed. It wasn’t cruel but sure as hell, it carried a hint of condescendence. There was a reason you refused to get on the training field with the rest of the recruits. After sweeping the legs from under one of the boys when he pestered you about ‘not enough hands on experience with a pro’, none of them dared to challenge you again. The memory of it was still fresh and yet, here Leon was making the same request to you.

“I like your ambition, rookie.” Your voice tapered into a low giggle; so seductive in tone, it woke goosebumps on his skin. “It’s adorable.”

He bit the corner of his lip before quickly letting go. It made your eyes trace back to his mouth again and he suppressed a smile. Two can play at a game, Lieutenant, he thought. All the cards were on the table. Weakness after weakness. This was a fair but draining fight, an aggressive push and pull that could only end with one side going against the currents. And it seemed as though you were both playing to make the other lose first.

“Please, Lieutenant. I really need your help. I’d do anything.”

He pleaded so longingly; it made warmth flutter dangerously low in your belly. Those round eyes and wet plump lips were your forbidden fruit. His hair looked so silky and soft; it gripped you with temptation to grab a fistful of it and pull without mercy until he was reduced to nothing but a whining, pathetic mess.

You smirked. “Then meet me after dinner at the gym. I might take you up on that.”

Leon was the first to make it later that evening. He had leapt from his seat as soon as he ate his last spoonful to head for the cramped indoor gym just across the mess hall. Adrenaline had already begun scorching under his skin and he hadn’t even seen you, yet. 

His mind roiled with the thoughts of being in your proximity; to have your fingers touch him and your warmth caress him. To have your pinpoint focus on him and only him. Those simple thoughts excited him more than it probably should’ve and he quickly found himself adjusting the front of his pants and palming himself with a vexed heave of a grunt, desperately trying to tame the hardness growing just under the fabric. He flinched when he heard the double doors flutter open.

“Miss.” He quickly turned in your direction, fingers touching his temple in salute. “You’re early.”

Your hands were stuffed inside your pockets and a small smile adorned your face. The bitter tang of tobacco burned his nose as soon as you were close. You had just come from a fresh smoke, he could tell. Strange. He was just now starting to realize he’s actually smelt that somewhere before. Not just around the base and at the training field where he usually caught you with a cigarette between your lips but… somewhere specific.

“You know those stuff will kill ya.” He commented and you merely hummed, the sentiment not fully sinking in. He waved a hand at you. “I saw you start your second pack just earlier.”

You shrugged. “We all have our vices.”

Vices, vices. Of course. Though faded it was, the memory was slowly coming back to him; the vast darkness of the mess hall, a silence ruptured by the voice of his own desperation. And that familiar smell. Humiliation quickly reared its fanged mouth to sneer at him.

“Let me see your hands.”

Leon offered his white wrapped fingers and you took them carefully into your palm, turning them and eyeing the handiwork before unlacing the white strips to fix the looseness around his thumbs. Your attention drew to the furiously red scabs on his knuckles as they revealed themselves and you frowned.

“I better not hear you’ve been overdoing your training.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes followed your strong arms as they finished his wraps before stepping away to shoulder off your jacket and hang it over one of the machines. You turned to him with a cocked brow, gaze expectant as you rolled your white sleeves up to your forearms, leather-clad fingers shining under the ceiling lights.

“You—you were there that night, weren’t you?” Leon croaked; his throat uncomfortably dry as he swallowed.

Your eyebrows twisted into another frown. At first, you were confused but the deep red of his face was all the explanation you needed to make your pulse throb in your ears. Leon scoffed impatiently, his entire body growing visibly tense as he threw an accusatory finger at you.

“Don’t give me that look. You know what I’m talking about. That—that fucking cigarette smell.” His head trembled as if he meant to shake it but couldn’t manage enough strength to do it. “I knew I recognized it. I smelt it on that night, too.”

You opened your mouth to protest but words failed to come to your aid. You only stole your gaze from him and pinned it to the ground.

“Why didn’t you stop me then?

“It was none of my business.” You met his eyes again, your hands curling into loose fists in a futile attempt to steady yourself as your entire body began to quiver. The look Leon gave you was enough to let you know he didn’t really believe your excuse. “You’re upset I didn’t? It’s not too late. I can still write you up.”

“You were watching me.”

Your fists gripped painfully tight, the velvety leather squeaking from the pressure, teeth gritting as you felt your resolution quickly ebb.

“Is that why you kept it to yourself this whole time?”

“That’s enough.”

Leon nearly recoiled at the cutting look of pure fury in your eyes. His lips fluttered but he couldn’t find the words to speak, his face tingled with the cold wash of embarrassment. 

“Are you done running your goddamn mouth, Kennedy?”  

He bit his lip. “Yes, Miss.”

“Good. Now give me ten laps around the posts.”

He choked down the complaints burning on the tip of his tongue, defeatedly making his way to the nearest column. He could see you in his periphery as he readied himself; arms crossed tightly over your chest, the worn look on your face replaced by one of contempt. You weren’t trying to run away so that had to amount to something. This was a conversation to be had later. He was going to make sure of it.

You weren’t paying much attention to him once he began; Leon could clearly see it every time he ran past you. You stared off into the distance, only occasionally raising your head to announce the number of the laps he finished. He resented the heft of the silence that weighed down between you, the tension that seemed to be winding only tighter and tighter. The stinging in his legs were slowly fueling his frustration the longer he went on and he was nowhere near done.

“Why are you doing this?” He grunted as he circled you once again, his eyes only fleeting over the vacant look on your face. “Are you really that fucking scared to talk about it?”

You were scared. Very much so, in fact. Underneath the stern, hard mask you’d donned sat the trembling frame of a simple woman stewing in the barrage of her own harsh reality. You were already riddled with the shame of all that you have done in the confinement of your own privacy but Leon continued to dig at your core, persisting to exhume the emotions you tucked away behind a veil of indifference and authority. 

Your arms gripped themselves more firmly across your chest, pushing yourself to ignore the distance that was shrinking between you as he progressively tightened the circles he ran around you. Your nails hooked themselves in your flesh, teeth gritting nervously.

“I just want to talk.” His voice came from behind you this time. He spoke so gently, it gripped at your heart. “I’m not upset. I just—” You felt the warmth of his hand caress the crook of your neck, carefully urging you to turn around. “I just want closure.” 

You remained steadfast to stay very still, afraid to meet those bright eyes again, fearful of how terribly your own body might betray you. You merely offered a small glance over your shoulder.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

His fingers slipped down your arm, his body nearly pressing to your back. You could feel his all too welcoming heat embrace you like a cocoon, the gentle waft of his breaths over the shell of your ear. The closeness was enough to make you feel light on your feet. He sounded much more annoyed when he spoke again. 

“I, on the other hand, think there’s a shit ton to talk about. So, turn around and look at me when I speak to you.”

You did. You spun slowly on your heels and finally faced him. His lovely face was crumpled. He looked utterly defeated. Debilitating shame began nipping at your heart again. Had you only stayed away that night – had you resisted temptation and did the only right thing.

“I asked you a question.” He demanded with a heavy frown, his grip turning iron tight on your arm and you stifled a grimace. 

You didn’t have it in you to be honest but at the same time, you couldn’t find the will to spit a lie straight to his face. Your features distorted into a scowl to match the one on his, teeth clenched and bared through an ugly snarl. What you did next shocked even yourself.

Leon didn’t see the fist flying towards his face in time and he stumbled back before he could retaliate, releasing your arm to catch himself against the column behind him. His eyes were wide and disbelieved; a hand plastered to the rapidly blossoming flush on his cheek. 

“I’m still your superior, Kennedy.” You growled. “You fucking respect me.”

A smirk, though faint, formed at his lips as he straightened himself. “Right now, you’re nothing but a desperate little coward to me. And since you’re too damn afraid to admit it—” He cocked his head, his glittering eyes hiding in the shadow of his unkempt fringe. “I’ll say it for you. You were there that night. I know because I smelt you.”

You stalked closer to him and in that instance, Leon suddenly felt truly unnerved. You no longer looked at him as if he were just a cocky recruit trying to get under your skin. You looked at him like a predator on a prowl, claws brandished to slash. Your shoulders were stiff and straight, your heels echoing menacingly in his ears as you walked closer towards him. 

“You better shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” You said, low and deep, eyes twinkling dangerously. It made goosebumps rouse on his skin but he held his ground. 

“You’re fucking pathetic.”

He knew very well he was playing with fire. He’d never seen you look so furious. So terrified. You were visibly shaking, furrowed brows twitching above your narrowed eyes – a cornered wounded wolf. That was what you were now. You were driven by anger or impatience and both were equally petrifying; the brilliant solider had leapt forth to project unto you. 

“Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught?” A teasing laughter bubbled up his throat. “Be honest with me just this once – did you touch yourself, too?” The look on his face grew more wicked at your prolonged, struggling silence. “Mhm, I bet you did.”

“Don’t flatter yourself—rookie.” The nickname came with much more bite this time and a pang of offense began growing deep in Leon’s chest, tugging immediately at his brows. “You’re barely my type.”

That was enough to push Leon into motion. His punch shot straight for your throat. You dodged just in time for his fist to dart past your neck. Raising your leg immediately, you kicked him in the stomach and he staggered back against the column with a pained groan, clutching at his shirt as he curled into himself. 

“That’s bullshit.” He panted, struggling to straighten himself back up, lips giving in to an unseemly smile. “I’ve seen you checking me out, sweetheart. Especially, when we train – you practically eat me up with those eyes of yours.”

A sharp, angry breath escaped through your nose, fists winding tight once more. Leon chuckled darkly. Bullseye. It was so easy to draw out those unspoken reactions that told enough all on their own; the stark change in your posture and face at every turn of his words was laughable. 

He grinned slyly as he continued, “can’t say it doesn’t stroke my ego a bit. You don’t give anyone the time of day. Yet, here you are.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits, chin tilted up as you stared at the young man down your nose. He held your gaze with his unwavering smile, knowing he now had you exactly where he wanted you most. Trapped with no way out. That was bound to make you finally spill your guts. 

“So, you might be saying one thing but everything you’ve done so far, isn’t convincing me.” He finished with a nonchalant shrug, his boyish smile growing wider across his lips. “It’s okay to have favorites, Lieutenant. Just admit it that I’m yours.”

You were stuck. Leon was adamant to do you in until nothing was left of you but the toxic concoction of your emotions; until you were stripped down to nothing but the bare bone of that terrifying truth hiding just within. You were truly stuck and you could feel yourself sink rapidly into despair. The quicksand you’ve created finally starting to swallow you whole.

“I know you like the big boys better and I promise you, Miss – I’m very big. I can show you. You just have to ask.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking for right now?” You rasped, face stricken with one look of pure defeat. Your inhibition slowly becoming lost to the beckoning cry of desire.

He nodded. “I know that I want you. Really fucking bad. And I told you I’d do anything.” He carefully reached for your wrist and held your hand close to the front of his pants. Your eyes fell on the bulging tension of his crotch and you swallowed, breath hitching in your throat. “So, I’m asking you to touch me and see for yourself. I’ll be good for you. Promise.”

You hooked your lip between your teeth, eyeing Leon’s pleading face before letting your gaze drop again to his crotch. He squirmed ever so slightly under the weight of your probing eyes, his fingers twitching over yours as they held onto you. This was it. You could finally have him.

He moaned shakily once your palm enveloped him, head lolling back against the wall. His hand gripped your shoulder as if you were his lifeline and he would collapse if he didn’t cling to you. Heat rushed through you as his hardness poked your hand and a wry smirk curled the corner of your mouth, confidence returning to your words.

“So hard already?” You chuckled teasingly. You leaned into his ear, breathing gently against the side of his face, your voice turning deep and husky. “Who’s the pathetic one now?”

Leon whimpered incoherently and a wicked grin broke upon your lips. You began pressing a trail of wet kisses to his jaw, humming softly against his skin the more he moaned, intrigued by the generous reactions coaxed by such simple gestures. Any louder and he could be heard through the doors had someone walked by.

“Such a needy little puppy. You’ve been dying to find a way to get my hands on you. That’s why you wanted to train in private, didn’t you?” He only whined in response, writhing against your hand to seek a rougher friction in spite of your miserly touch. You giggled. “Not so cocky now, huh?” 

“Please—please, Miss. I—I—” 

His trembling fingers pressed your hand harder to himself, holding your wrist firmly just to slide your palm back and forth over his cock. You let him have it, relishing in the succession of high-pitched moans that slipped through his lips.

“If you want something from me then I need to hear it first.”

“More. I – I need more.” He rasped. “I need to feel your hand on my cock. Please.”

You smiled as you kissed the corner of his mouth, your fingers starting to fidget with his belt and undoing his pants as quickly as you could. He breathed out a quivering sigh once the fabric grew loose and began slipping down from his waist. You slid a finger under the hem of your glove but Leon stopped you immediately.

“Keep them on. I don’t mind the leather.” 

Your smile broadened, twisting into a crude crooked grin at the corner of your mouth. Leon laughed breathlessly.

“God—that look in your eyes…” He sat a hand on the side of your neck, looking up at you through his long lashes, eyes sweetly round. “You’re dangerous. You could ruin me and I’d fucking let you.”   

You shushed him and he nodded obediently, sinking your gloved hand in his boxers with teasing speed. A loud moan erupted from Leon as the cold smooth leather engulfed him entirely. He bucked unwittingly into your touch, slipping clumsily in and out of your hold once you began stroking him. 

He plastered his palm over his mouth to sheath the uncontrollable noises tumbling freely out of him. You couldn’t help but snicker and his face immediately glowed a pretty flushed pink, a window of apprehension opening through the dazed look in his eyes.  

“You’re so fucking cute—gosh.” Your mouth pressed to his ear and he shuddered as you growled, “I want to eat you up. I want to fucking eat you all up.”

Your lips slipped below his jawline to trace the span of his soft neck. He gasped at the first kiss, a tiny giggle rising in his chest as his head jerked at your ticklish touch. You gripped him more tightly and the jovial bounce in his throat waned into a loud whine. His hips twitched at the firmness, his hand lightly pushing at yours as if he was suddenly too sensitive to touch. 

“S—so rough. Mhm!” He whimpered. 

You eased your hold on him and his shoulders instantly relaxed, a content huff of breath escaping his parted lips. But soon, he began moaning a complaint. “Use me. I can take it.” He mumbled through the slow pumps of your hand. “Don’t hold back on me, honey. Please.”

No more needed to be told. Your speed upped instantaneously and so did the tone of Leon’s moans, piercing and loud, and he had to muffle them against his palm again. Your teeth latched onto the delicate skin of his neck, roving and bruising every bit of free expanse they claimed.  

His curses were strangled, his moans purely made of inaudible sobbing sounds, spitting and shrill and filtering with ease through his fingers. He was getting close and you could also tell by the way he throbbed and leaked in your hand; and by the simple way he couldn’t get a proper string of sentence out to let you know.

“I’m… I’m… I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna – you’re gonna make me cum.”

“It’s alright.” You cooed under his ear. “You can cum for me. Go on, sweetheart.”

And as though you tugged on the strings of his orgasm like a puppet master, he came apart with a sonorous and dulcet moan, pouring himself into your fist. You carefully withdrew your hand as his erratic breaths slowly turned calm and even.

Leon eyed the glistening sleek coating your gloved fingers as they went back to hang at your side again. You really did it to him. Him. That was surely the unthinkable and he couldn’t believe his stroke of luck. His lips parted with a grin; a gesture which you returned as well until your eyes sought the large clock on the wall and a faint frown pulled at your face.

“Guess you have to skip laundry day this time.” He tried to earn back your attention as you turned away from him and slid off your gloves. But it was pointless. You weren’t looking back at him anymore. Worry quickly weighed down on his eyebrows as he busied his hands with his jeans. “But what about you?”

However, you were already moving towards your jacket. He was confused. What happened?

“I have to be up in a couple hours.” You sighed, adjusting the lapels of your jacket. “I’m going on a mission. If things go according to plan, it shouldn’t take more than a day.”

It was as if he was struck by the full weight of a crushing wave at the news. He knew this was your job and soon to be his. But he hadn’t anticipated the anxiety to hit him as hard as it did now. The lines of worry etched deep between his brows. You smiled.

“Don’t look so nervous now or I’ll start thinking you actually care about me.”

He scoffed in defiance but he didn’t say anything. Of course, he cared about you. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak it. It was embarrassing and he doubted this – whatever this was – went beyond just plain entertainment. Not that he minded. But your assumption felt like a stinging stab of insult. 

“I’m only doing a short protocol run in Raccoon City. But I won’t be on my own.” You explained. As if that could help.

His eyes shot up to yours at the mention of the city and you immediately regretted ever opening your mouth, muttering a curse under your breath. He strode towards you and gripped your shoulders. 

“I’m coming with you.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re staying at the base just like the rest of the recruits.”

“But—”

“None of that.” You raised your palm defensively. “My job right now is to protect you and this isn’t up for debate.”

“I’m perfectly capable. I survived an outbreak. A small protocol run is nothing. I can do it. I know I can.”

You raised your voice, your tone growing biting and authoritative. “You listen to me, Kennedy. I don’t care what your status was before you came here but right now, you’re not a soldier. So, when I say you can’t come along then you won’t. Am I clear?”

Leon turned solemn. His eyes, now hopeless and downcast, fell to the ground. You heaved a heavy sigh, sitting a gentle hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Look, I can only imagine what you’ve been through,” you started, voice hushed and soft. “And I can tell that city means something to you. And I promise, one day, we’ll go there together. But today – try not to be a hero today.”

He nodded even though you could see how hesitantly, and you finally let your hand drop from his frame, a content smile ghosting over your lips. Leon reached for your wrist once you turned to walk away, his fingers pressing gently to your skin.

“Please be careful.”

You nodded. “Always.”

You were gone by the time Leon woke to begin his day. Training wasn’t the same without you as the substitute soldier watching over the field only reminded him of your absence. It shouldn’t have taken more than a day. So, he awaited your return impatiently. 

But how naïve he was to believe that? Of course, you had to have been merely comforting him. One small look at that pitiful look on his face and you leapt to remedy his worry. Because now it had been more than a whole day. Days even. And yet, no sign of you or the team who had gone with you. 

He asked around the base for you, the mission, anything that could ease the deadweight of dread in his stomach. However, the unresponsiveness was driving him insane; and learning to expect the worst since not long ago, he couldn’t stop from convincing himself that something had gone terribly wrong. 

Then, at long last on the eve of the third day, your helo showed in the clear sky over the base. But the air was already heavy as it landed and the soldiers deplaned, their number significantly less than when they first left. Something had truly happened. 

Leon held his breath as he sought your face amongst the rest, his pulse quickening more and more the longer you remained missing. And finally, the helo took off back towards the sky without you ever even showing up.

He felt his stomach sink, his knees nearly giving away underneath his weight. His eyes frantically searched the perimeter filled with the returning soldiers and the crowd gathered to welcome them back, hoping he had somehow missed you walking among them. 

“Did you hear what happened to those poor fuckers?” He heard a voice pipe up beside him. “Almost found none of their remains. Makes you glad you aren’t one of them, huh?”

Another voice chimed in. “It sure makes you believe in the cross and the lord.” A muffled chorus of laughter rolled between the bunch. 

Leon didn’t wait any longer to hear the rest of conversation, rushing back inside the base to where he could get a proper fucking word from someone. (Y/N), please, please, please be okay, his mind reeled with the thoughts. Fuck, I knew I should’ve convinced her to take me with them.

Without thinking twice, he turned the corner that led down to your office. He blinked and instantly, realization dawned on him. You were always there for him whenever he sought you out – always in possession of the answers he was looking for. And now you weren’t here to quell his fear like you always did. As he neared the polished wood of your door and raised his knuckles to knock, he feared you wouldn’t be there to welcome him like you always did. He feared that the unfortunate fate of those soldiers had befallen you as well.

All of a sudden, his eyes were drawn to the passing figure just down the hallway, catching enough sight of it to quickly realize the man was one of the soldiers accompanying you into the mission. Leon called out to him, his voice lost in the commotion, chasing after him through the narrow walls.

“Sir. A moment?” The older soldier only spared a brief glance at him, not stopping to fully acknowledge him. “Where’s Lieutenant (L/N)? Did she – did she make it back?”

For a long moment, the man remained silent and Leon thought his question was going to be unanswered yet again. Then he began dreading the actual answer – if it was going to put the seal of confirmation on his worries. 

“She’s in the interrogation room.”

That was all that came through that tight-lipped mouth before the soldier hurried off. Leon’s steps slowed to a stop. He was a dizzying turmoil of emotions; relief that, finally, he had word that you were okay and the ebbing adrenaline giving way to mere confusion. What had happened that’s sent everyone into such a feral panic? 

It took him a while but eventually, he managed to find you. Or where he believed you to be. A few soldiers loitered outside a door, waiting for something. White light flared from the small window that peeked inside the room. He stalked closer, heart hammering in his chest to having had at long last found you – safe and alive – sitting behind a table. 

Across from you was a person, wound in obscene layers of chains, head completely sheathed within a thick wrap. Their shoulders were slouched, shifting erratically with every breath they drew as if they were shaking. They were very still for a few seconds until Leon noticed your lips move and they shot straight to their feet, too keen to lunge at you before they were promptly subdued by their restraints; and they slumped back in their seat. 

You were rather calm, a loose fist flexing slowly on the tabletop. But a faint frown tugged at your brows and that was enough to let Leon know you were frustrated. The conversation, whatever words being exchanged, wasn’t going too well. 

It didn’t take long for you to finally resign and walk out of the room. The soldiers outside straightened to your attention, awaiting your commands. Only then Leon noticed the sling over your shoulder and his pulse began to race once again.

“Lieutenant!” He beckoned impatiently as soon as the door fluttered shut behind you. 

A weak smile crossed your lips, nodding at him before turning your focus to the other men in the hallway. 

“Alert the medics right away. She needs DEVIL.”

“But, ma’am—” Objected one of the soldiers and you interrupted. “We don’t have much time left. We need her compliance if we want any information out of her.”

The bunch nodded and offered their salutes before entering the room to follow your orders. That was when you slumped against the wall, a worn breath heaving in your chest. Leon came to your side immediately. 

“Jesus, (Y/N)—I was so worried.”

His lips pressed to your forehead, fingers gently cradling the back of your neck. The kiss was lingering and firm but relieved. It almost managed to wash away the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders. You smiled timidly at him once he leaned away.

“I came back a few hours ago – I’m alright.”

“You’re hurt.” He bridled, gesturing at your arm. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve — I should’ve done something.”

“Leon, I promise. I’m fine.”

“What the hell even happened out there?”

“We just ran into a nasty surprise.” You rubbed your eyes with a deep sigh, struggling to keep the wearing impact of the mission at bay. “Found a survivor. Can you believe it?”

“Her?” He motioned with his head at the window, the bound person inside the interrogation room and you nodded.

“She’s damn lucky we found her when we did. As much as she dealt us some damage.”

He waved a hand at the cast around your arm and you suddenly felt the urge to shrink away from him. The fury was pure evident in his voice when he spoke again, his voice low and gruff. “She did this?”

“Calm down.” You scolded gently. “She’s been through it. If you can’t tell, that’s not her right now.”

You started down the hallway, the same path Leon had come earlier to find you, and he trailed behind you like an orphan puppy, continuing to pummel you with his arguments.

“Which means It’s stupid to show her this level of mercy. Did no one learn from what happened?”

“Leon,” you breathed out another sharp sigh, turning your eyes to glance at the visibly annoyed look on his face. “This was a group decision. Do you trust your superiors?”

The silence he responded with grew questionably long. You stopped and he only did so a few steps ahead of you, turning his shoulder hesitantly, knowing fully well you were expecting him to say something.

“Do you trust me?”

He nodded. “I do. Yeah.”

“Okay. Then I promise you, this is for the best.”

Then it hit you; a stab of debilitating pain sending your vision churning as if you were stuck inside a blender. You braced a hand against the wall as you groaned, eyes squeezing shut. Leon looked horrified. His gaze fell on the dark splotches of blood seeping through the white bandage of your arm and he began to panic, rushing to hold under your good arm.

“I’m fine.” You croaked, willing yourself to move without his aid but the blood loss was finally taking its toll.

He frowned. “Really? You’re bleeding.”

And with that, he dragged you to the hospital wing despite your irritated objections. 

You were fine. You continued to insist and insist much to Leon’s disdain. Of course, this wasn’t anything you couldn’t recover from and you made sure that was ingrained in his brain by the time you were nearly done with your blood transfusion. And by then, he had shot down every one of your complaints with a lenient glare which did little to silence your petulance.

He kept his distance until your nurse stopped frequenting your bedside and then he crept closer to you like a scared stray. As if he was afraid to set something off and send things into a spiral. Though the look on his face told you he was still slightly irked.

“You’re insane. In case I haven’t told you, yet.”

You laughed drowsily, a bitter edge to the otherwise joyful sound. Leon’s hand slipped over yours, hesitantly at first, then he gripped them tighter, fingers threading together.

“You worry too much, rookie.” You offered a lopsided smile, taking in his face that was silhouetted against the fluorescent ceiling lights. “There are much bigger things than me here.”

“Don’t.” He choked out and your brows furrowed, initially confused by the sudden change in his voice until you noticed the glistening line of tears coating his lashes.  

“Oh, Leon—”

“Jus—st stop saying things like that.” His eyelids flickered rapidly, blinking back the impending fall of hot tears. “It’s not fair. Why does it have to be you?”

You scoffed another laugh. “Jesus. I know I don’t look like it but I’m still alive, you know.”

His lip began to quaver and he bit it into his mouth, stealing his face away from your eyes as a streak of tears streamed down his cheeks, his fingers trembling between yours.

“Leon, look at me.” You crooned sweetly, squeezing his hand. He refused, his gaze still glued to the ground. You smiled. “Come on, baby. Look at me.”

The soft tone of your voice, the pet name, captured his ears, and he finally returned his attention to you. His rigid shoulders sank as you slid your hand from his grasp to pat on the mattress. His glossy eyes locked onto yours momentarily before he sat down on the edge of your bed and helped you sit up.

You brushed away the wet trail of tears with your thumb before holding the side of his face, pulling him in just slightly before he eagerly closed the distance between you, kissing you chastely on the lips. The anxious tension thawed out almost immediately, giving its place to a swelling comfort. 

“I’ll be fine, okay?” You murmured once you let go. “I don’t want you to worry so much about me.”

Leon nodded but his eyes weren’t looking at you anymore. They were pinned down to where your fingers sat woven together on the hard mattress. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want anything happening to you. But he couldn’t speak those words, fearing it would turn real. That he would curse the one good thing he had going in his life for once. “I know you got this.”

“Is this – what is all this about?”

He hooked his lip between his teeth, the warmth of his hand leaving your fingers. You waited patiently for his answer – if there was going to be any. His silence was enduring and heavy and all of a sudden, you felt as though a thick wall of glass erected between you.

“It’s nothing.” He murmured.

Your lips curling into a sweet compassionate smile. As much as he fought to hide it, his fear was laid bare before you. You could tell what could be going through his mind when he was faced with the possibility of loss. Something you had to experience many times – with loved ones and otherwise. You never got used to the grief and you could easily understand him. 

“I was a bit younger than you when I first signed up,” you started. “Back then, I thought I was only running away from my old life; but I was also leaving someone very close to me behind. Someone who loved me more than anyone ever had.” Leon glimpsed at you from the corner of his eyes and at the bitter quirk of your lips as you recalled the memory. “When I left, I became a dead soldier walking in her eyes. Then that goddamn outbreak happened and… and…” You drew a shaky gasp, shaking your head lightly at yourself. Your fist folded against your chest, clasping around a pendant hiding beneath your shirt. You heaved a sigh before you continued, “when I went back to the city for the first time, this was the only thing left of her that I could find.”

The dull silver dangled over your shirt, the frail thing blackened in parts, no doubt an aftermath of the government bombings of the city; the locker’s tiny hinge was askew and its delicate carvings had almost completely melted off. A sullen huff of laughter pushed through your lips.  

“In a twisted way, I was the one who outlived her. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Leon remained quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He knew this was a realistic way of seeing things, almost expecting what your next words meant to be. But he couldn’t shake the bothersome weight of cynicism laced in your tone – in everything you said. It all sounded much too bleak. 

But maybe this was what everything meant to be: bleak. Bleak and unredeemable. 

“What I’m trying to say is—” You breathed out another sigh. “You can’t keep guessing what cards you’ll be dealt. You just have to put your best one down.” 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” He mumbled in weak protest.

Your shoulders shifted in a lazy shrug. “I really hope so.”

They codenamed her Banshee; that strange woman who ambushed the mission team and ended up being held captive at the base. 

Leon never saw her since the morning of your return. You were strangely secretive about it unlike how often you were there to ease his mind in the past. The confidentiality was troubling him even more. What was so important about this woman? What information could be needed from her? Why was she being held like a prisoner?

All the suspicions and the questions were why he discovered those agonized shrieks himself – one night when he passed the infirmary room on his way back to the barracks a little before curfew. Or rather, snuck. Because you had refused to take him with you. Again.

The mazelike hallways leading to the infirmary was restricted for most, he soon came to realize. Guards littered the vicinage. Security cameras hung from every crevice with every corner he turned. Just what the hell were they trying to protect? Leon had to find out. He had to know what ungodly things were being done to Banshee to rouse such gut churning noises out of her. If she was treated then this was blatant torture; and that altruistic part of him couldn’t close his eyes to it. 

Of course, he wasn’t capable of much in his position. But now, your words weren’t enough to convince him anymore. For once, he was doubting you. Because he’d seen you on the very same night he snuck into the heavily guarded unit. You were definitely in on the matter, you knew the complete extent of it; yet, you refused to confide any in him, pretending things were sound and fine. Lies, lies, lies. It was driving him up the wall.

Though maybe his haste had fueled his recklessness a bit. As much as he moved calculatedly, making it on the precise minute the night guards were changing post, it was completely lost on him that a higher rank soldier could arrive at any given instance. Because that was how you caught him.

You saw the faint shape of a shadow shed onto the floor, its source evidently cowering just behind the corner of the wall. It remained completely still as you squinted with suspicion into the distance, one hand reaching slowly for the pistol in your holster and brandishing it. 

“Who’s there?” You called out, cocking your gun. “Show yourself.”

Leon looked to his side where he had just come from. The new guards were going to assume post soon and they were going to find him here if he didn’t do something quickly enough. He could hear your slow footfalls as you crept closer to where he stood in hiding. 

He raised his palms, sheepishly slithering into sight beneath the pale red ceiling lights. You breathed a relieved sigh, lowering your arm. But then, a deep look of anger struck your features.

“Somehow I knew you’d still come here.” You said through teeth. “Do I wanna know what you’re even up to?” 

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” He choked out.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him and he grew visibly tense; straightening his neck, eyes avoidant and staring right past the top of your head. His throat shifted as he swallowed thickly. Your frown deepened, eyes turning narrowed. 

“Wrong, Kennedy. What are you doing here?” Your voice was low as if you didn’t want to be heard.

Leon fought himself to meet your eyes again. You were (Y/N). He didn’t need to fear you. But he was quickly losing faith once his gaze crossed yours again. His words were crippled by his anxiety and he merely gaped as your heated glare remained fixated on him.

A snarl twisted your lips at his helpless silence. You grabbed a firm hold of his wrist and began walking up the hallway, dragging him along with you. He trailed behind like a ragdoll, letting you force him through the winding ways and evade the incoming guards until you found a vacant room and shoved him inside.

He stumbled into the room as if his feet had gone lame, only slowly turning around to face you when you closed the door and flickered the lights on. Of course, you still looked furious and he hadn’t yet found the words to defend himself with. Not that he had prepared much for when he was going to be caught. 

“I’m waiting.” You said curtly, the scowl on your face never changing, slipping your gun back into its holster. 

“I—well, I—I don’t know. I just wanted to see what was going on.”

All of a sudden and without any warnings, you charged at him and Leon recoiled into the edge of the desk behind him, eyes blowing wide with shock. Your curled knuckles sat against his chest, pushing at him firmly.

“You decided to go against my order. And here I thought you trusted me.”

“I do—” He stammered, voice shrill with panic. “I do trust you.”

“This doesn’t look much like it now, does it?” 

“I can explain.”

“Then fucking explain.”

He swallowed again, eyes fluttering rapidly as they shifted around in search for an indefinite point of focus until they found yours again. Your jaw was clenched, a single furrowed brow twitching with frustration. He had to say something to remedy the damage. 

“I just think this isn’t humane.” You arched a brow and his remaining sliver of courage began to dwindle. Thinking of the words to say, he was quickly realizing how idiotic what he did truly was but he continued to speak what was truly on his mind, “it’s not right to do all these experiments on her.”

“You think that’s what’s happening here?”

“No. I—I don’t know.”

You scoffed. “Was it worth it then? Getting in trouble for this. What if someone else saw you?”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated himself timidly. 

“Jesus, this isn’t about that,” your voice rose an octave. “This is dangerous. You could’ve gotten fucking killed.”

Leon stared at you with a slack mouth, eyes wide and scared. You shook your head and stepped away from him, suddenly caving into the sharp strike of pain through your shoulder, a grimace distorting your face. Your hand instinctively rose to put pressure over the bandage dressing your wound. 

He so terribly wanted to hold you and soothe your aches, to place kisses to your hair and comfort you. He hated seeing you so hurt. He reached a hand out towards you, fingers nearly beckoning but they dropped limply back at his side again, thinking better of it.

“One word out of your mouth,” you lifted your head to say with a cutting glint in your eyes, voice almost breathless from that brief episode of pain. “One fucking word about tonight out of your mouth and I’m signing your papers myself. Am I clear?”  

He nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

A deep sigh rushed through your nose. “Does anybody else know about this?” Leon shook his head no and your lips pursed into a crooked line, something slightly akin to a smile. “At least, you were smart about that – come on.”

You gestured with your head towards the door and Leon frowned in confusion, his eyes shortly darting to the pristine white wood before returning to yours. You could easily read the unspoken question written on his face.

“I’m walking you back to the barracks. I can’t have you wandering around on your own.”

The way back to the unrestricted sector was slow yet comfortably quiet. Your focus rest upon avoiding the main hallways where soldiers stood guard and cameras roved the vicinity. He felt oddly safe despite the circumstance – safe with you. 

Leon walked alongside you, the back of your hand warm against his. His fingers begged to spread over your palm and clasp tightly around it. They traced coyly across your wrist and right then, he caught you glancing at him from the corner of your eyes and this might have been a trick of the shadows but he could swear he saw a smile form on your lips. 

Your fingers threaded through his. “I’m sorry for lashing out back there.” You whispered, squeezing his hand before raising it to see the healing scars strewn all over his knuckles. You kissed them with caution and Leon drew a gasp, shivering from the gentleness of your touch. “I was so scared for you. I kept thinking about what would’ve happened if someone else—”

He interrupted, “(Y/N), I know. You don’t have to explain.”  

The shadows cast over your face made the soft frown tugging at your brows much more twisted as you continued to stare ahead into the darkness. 

“You’re not gonna pull this shit again, are you?” Leon almost didn’t hear you with how quietly the question came. “I was serious about it being dangerous.”

An oppressing silence settled between you as he pondered your words. You tilted your head to glimpse the troubled look on his face. Of course, the curiosity wasn’t going to just vanish all on its own. And knowing him, you were quite certain it was only a matter of time until he found another way to the infirmary. You sighed. Maybe sharing some information wasn’t entirely terrible.

“Banshee’s had some interesting developments since getting her first dose.”    

Leon perked up at that. “What do you mean?”

“She’s very strong. Three men can’t hold her down when she starts throwing a fit.” You explained. “And she heals quickly. Tooquickly. The medics have a hard time keeping her IVs in. They think it has something to do with her infection.” You looked at him again. “She still has her intelligence, so combined with everything else – that’s too much power for just one person.”

“What’s she being kept for?” He asked but he had a feeling he already knew even though you refused to answer anymore.

“Just promise me that you will stay away. For your own safety. And stop asking questions for fuck’s sake.”

He stopped and the link between your hands held you back as well. You turned with a frown. Leon’s face was cloaked in the shadows but you could still see his glistening eyes. He tugged you forward and cradled you against his chest.

“And what about you? Aren’t you supposed to be safe, too?”

“Leon—”

“I know we talked about this. I’m not doubting you. I just—” He trailed off, biting his lip before he started again, “I don’t want to lose you.”

There. He finally said it. But your silence was too telling. Then you slowly began to pull away from him. 

You were startled, the plane rawness in the confession making your skin crawl with goosebumps. This – all of this – erased any remaining shred of distance between you. Intimacy had become such a stranger to you after so long, it was difficult for you to welcome it again now. Affection lending all but true comfort, you had come to learn years ago. 

“You can’t. No.” You protested, shaken with panic, pulse racing.

Leon’s grip became tight around you, keeping you firm against himself. “It’s you who can’t. Listen to me—” He gave your shoulder a gentle jolt when your head began whipping around as if looking for a way out. “I won’t let you keep treating yourself like you’re disposable. You’re—you’re so much more than that to me.”

A fragile lump knotted in your throat as your eyes met his again, your lip quavering of its own accord. He held your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as an adoring smile curved his mouth. You shook your head but to what question or depiction of disagreement, you couldn’t tell anymore. You only knew you were protesting the silent wailing of your heart that called out to him. 

But this felt right. He felt right. Everything about this snippet of time was perfectly that – right.

“Please, (Y/N)—let me show you. Just one chance. Just—just for tonight.”

Your eyes searched his face in the darkness, your heart beginning to hammer in your throat. He was so close to you that you could feel his cool breaths feathering over your skin, slow and even – unlike your sharp ones. His arms held you protectively as if he could shield you from yourself. And in this moment, the idea of letting go seemed all too inviting. 

At last, you nodded sheepishly. “Okay.”

Leon followed you again as you led the way to your room. He had seen your office many times before; the flourishing link between you afforded him confidence to seek you in solitude at times. However, he was never once inside your private quarters. 

The room hardly looked lived in; the bed was clean and made, the desk against the wall barren of any belongings – a room fit for a soldier prepared to depart as soon she was called upon. It all was cold and vacant except for a small pot of plant which sat on the windowsill. The leaves were young and fresh, swaying slowly in the breeze wafting in from the small crack in the window. 

You distanced yourself to shut the window before turning your eyes to the tiny plant, stroking it carefully between two fingers as a smile adorned your lips. Then you peered back at Leon who was still standing at the door, watching you silently with a warm expression, gaze soft and loving. Your heart began to flutter again.

“I’m all yours, Leon.” You admitted quietly, longingly.

He approached you slowly, arms twisting around you once again, engulfing you in his warmth. His lips were merely a breath apart from yours, caressing you ever so lightly. You could feel their tempting softness from this small distance. So sweet. So incredibly sweet. You were already growing weak in the knees.

Leon held your face and at last, his lips pressed gently upon yours. His kisses were paced and sensuous. Careful. His fingers sank in your hair to brace against the back of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek absentmindedly. Your fist gripped loosely over his chest, the collar of his shirt crumpling between your digits and pulling him tighter to yourself.

A breathless moan escaped him as he stumbled into you from the force and he giggled against your lips, leaning away to smile down at you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You whispered and his face became flushed, his smile growing bashful. You pushed away the hair from his eyes, letting your fingers rest within the soft locks. Leon pressed a small kiss to the heel of your palm. “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything, honey.”

“Please never cut your hair.”

An adorable, boyish grin lit up his pretty face. “I take it you like it then?”

“It makes it easier to boss you around.” You finished as your grip tightened on his roots and his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw becoming visibly clenched. A tight-lipped moan trembled on his tongue. 

“Always have to make a point to be so mean to me.”

He offered no time for you to gather a response, dropping his hands to your knee and lifting it just slightly over his own leg. “Up,” he muttered and you jumped, coiling your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he caught you against his hips. His lips were back upon yours soon after.

His head was tilted, mouth parted and tongue flicking teasingly at your lip. Your hand flexing in his soft hair coaxed moan after moan from him before his fingers dug mercilessly into the flesh of your thighs, leading you both down on the edge of the bed. His hands slipped under your shirt, spreading wide over your back as if to claim you beneath his touch.

It was almost instinctual to begin grinding against him, shifting your hips again and again over his cock that slowly became tangibly hard under you. Leon moaned sharp and drawn out, stuttering them against your lips as his kisses grew slow and clumsy. He pulled away a mere hair’s breadth with his eyes still closed, forehead pressed to yours.

“I want to make it up to you.” His nose brushed yours, his wet lips agape and desperate to be put to something as they traced the air, blindly looking for yours again. “Can you lie down?”

You nodded and his hold tightened around your waist, helping you down gently against the hard mattress. His fingers soothed your clothed thighs as he seated himself between your legs. His smile was soft when he pressed a kiss to your knee, nodding approvingly once you began stripping your jeans.

Leon discarded the article onto the floor once it came undone, his hand then quickly returning to your legs to push them carefully apart. He moved with a certain care that made a shy smile grow on your face and a pleasant warmth in your cheeks. You bit your lip, unable to hold in the giddiness that bubbled deep in your throat.

“What?” He crooned with a soft smile of his own, fingers still caressing your legs.

“Nothing. It’s just – this is perfect.” He cocked his head, eyes bright as you spoke. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Leon smiled again. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

The ensuing silence that formed between you was gentle and comfortable, sitting with its featherlike weight in the air as you both relished in each other’s warmth, doing nothing but merely sharing delicate touches and chaste kisses in between soft loving glances. 

It was as though time had slowed to a stop in the room; no worry or caution waiting to cast doom upon your little square of joy. The turbulence of the vast world lost under the delightful heft of peace seeded within this very moment. Nothing could steal this away from either of you.

When the quiet broke apart, it was you who had reached a hand between your thighs to hold Leon under the chin. He closed his eyes with a content smile before he tilted his head to press another small kiss to your knee, his fingers gliding slowly up the side of your leg.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.” You confessed, voice low and timid. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it soon enough.”

He shushed you softly, leaving a trail of kisses lower and lower on your thigh, carefully making his way down to the throbbing wet center awaiting the warmth of his mouth. His gaze flickered up to yours once his lips were a breath shy of your swollen clit. 

“We have the rest of our time to make up for it, honey.”

And when the sentence reached its last, Leon’s tongue sat flat against your pussy. Your chest hitched from the heated contact, breath knotting in your throat. Your core gripped with need as your clit became embraced in the wet heat of his sweet mouth and pinched playfully between his slippery teeth. 

He took to you carefully; his eyes attentive to the flitting emotions on your face and his ears to the soft noises escaping your parted lips. He took in the small movements of your hips as they circled slowly against the mattress, writhing and coaxing bigger moans from you every time you met his mouth more firmly.

Your fingers soon sought purchase in the thin white sheets below you, gripping them tightly in your grasp as Leon upped his pace. He moaned heatedly once your other hand – the same hurting one –reached for the mess of hair on top of his head and threaded through the roots gingerly, pushing his mouth tighter upon yourself.

That was what he needed to lose all sense of self and bury his face into your cunt with a low groan, mouth panting and reeling against you. He took you onto his tongue with fervent vigor, making himself more and more breathless with every flutter along your clit, spurred on only by your encouraging moans and sharp gasps.

“Mmmgod… you taste heavenly, sweetheart.” He moaned breathily, his senses whelmed by the clear flavor of your pussy and your soft smell that made him want to dig into you with the neediness of a starved man’s first supper. “Want my tongue inside you—yeah? Want me to fuck you with my tongue, baby?”

You whined softly at the twist of desperation in his voice as his tongue continued to flicker rapidly over your clit, his mouth slurping your sleek through the urgency of the question. You nodded quickly, moaning your approval right before the firm tip of his tongue slithered into your folds, making you arch your back at the assault of heat lurching deep within your core.

He slid his tongue in and out of you swiftly, moaning as he downed more of your taste, the lucid flavor sending his mind into a feverish turmoil – the focal of his attention stranded in only your pleasure alone. He returned to suck on your clit with a newfound tenacity, his breaths coming short and shallow against your fevered skin. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he muttered through a mouthful. “I need more… I need more.”

The small cot squeaked as Leon began to grind himself against it, his fingers digging crescents into the meat of your thighs, his own desire reaching a melting point as the winding heat in your body mounted the delicious borderline of collapse. Your fingers gripped tighter in his hair, your body growing tense with the anticipation of your release.

“I’m so close. I’m gonna – I’m gonna…”

But the warning came too late as your orgasm coursed through you like a storm and you came with a soft cry, pushing your head back against the mattress, the heat at last breaking loose inside your core. Leon’s lips roved your inner thighs as your high gradually ebbed, pressing slow gentle kisses to your skin. He listened to your soft gasps of breath, relishing in the gentle way your fingers continued to flex in his hair. 

You were strangely meek and sweet in a moment like this, Leon thought to himself; so vulnerable, so… human. The perfect soldier lain on a cheap hard cot, reduced to a whimpering mess at the mercy of his mouth. It made him smile adoringly as he raised his head to look at you.

“You’re still with me?” He said with a soft huff of laughter, noticing how your dazed eyes are still pinned to the ceiling as your chest rose and fell heavily, ever lost in the throes of an utter bliss.

Your head inclined in a small nod before you finally met his gaze with a lazy smile. A nearly silent chuckle slipped through your lips.

“Yeah. Still here.”

Leon lifted himself and over your body. His thumb reached for his own mouth to swipe at the smear of your arousal glistening on his kiss swollen lips. You linked an arm around his shoulders, letting the other sit comfortably down at your side, urging him closer to yourself. He met your lips with his, giving you a small kiss before parting once more. He fingered the side of your face as he looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“You’re amazing.” The smile on his face was broad as he spoke, his thumb brushing over your cheek. 

You rolled your eyes with a ghost of a smile on your lips. 

“I mean it.” His eyebrows raised, giving you a stern nod. “You are amazing. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You sat a gentle hand against his cheek. “What are you doing to me, Kennedy?”

A cheeky, lopsided smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to yours. His fingers slipped from your face to your hair, brushing through it with care but that playful expression was ever persistent on his face.

“Right now? Probably blowing your mind.”

You rolled your eyes again but a chortle erupted in your throat, making Leon laugh with you in return. He traced his pinky finger over your lips, teasing them apart as his eyes became transfixed by them; his own mouth parted slightly as if in anticipation of another kiss. He looked back up in your eyes once more.

“I just want you so bad right now.” He whispered, his voice a low scratchy rasp, waking goosebumps down your spine. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask for. I just—” 

You interrupted him with a kiss, holding the side of his neck to bring him even closer. His content sigh flitted against your mouth as he melted in your embrace. When you pulled away to look at him again, his bright blue eyes were half-closed and smoldering with lust. 

“I want you, too.” You smiled. 

Leon gave a quiet laugh, his cheeks bright with pink. “You do? You sure?”

You nodded and his smile widened even more. He began speaking something but the sudden spike of excitement in his voice made the words string together in a mess of incomprehensible words as he stood to his feet to rid himself of his clothes. You chuckled as you watched him discard the layers without even looking, an infectious grin carving his face in two. 

An amused smirk curved your lips as Leon climbed over you again. He blushed furiously upon noticing that devilish, teasing look in your eyes. He laughed breathlessly, running his nails over the side of his flushed cheek.

“Don’t you dare tease me about this.” 

You laughed more loudly. “I didn’t even say anything.”

He leaned down with a faint smile, his eyes flickering over your face as he squeezed your thighs tightly between his long fingers.

“I know that look, sweetheart. You don’t need words to drive me crazy.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking. A playfully stern look crossed his features, his fingers slowly reaching higher for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your stomach.

“See? You’re doing it right now.” 

“Christ, Leon!” You exclaimed through another fit of laughter.

Leon’s gaze softened again, his thumbs brushing over your exposed ribs, his lips curled into a dreamy smile. “You have no idea how much I love it when you call me by my name.” 

A gentle smile turned your mouth as you drank him in – as if you were looking at him for the first time. You pressed your fingers gingerly against his face, tracing a borderless map across his smooth skin, brushing your fingertips over his lips, his nose, every line, every crevice. He smiled down at you as your touch wandered his features, making a face at you once your eyes met his again.

“I can’t believe my luck.” You whispered with an endeared smile. 

Leon nodded his head, a mischievous smirk sat in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me neither. I mean, let’s face it. I’m quite the catch.”

“Shut up.” You scolded gently, your voice roiling with a small chuckle. 

“Make me.” 

A wicked smile tugged at your lips as you buried your fingers in his hair and forced his lips upon yours. His small delicate moan of surprise stifled against your mouth before he gave into you with a small murmur, his fingers caressing your cheeks as he reciprocated the kiss. Then he giggled and leaned away just enough to speak again, his breath one with your own.

“Alright. Point taken.”

You gave an easy laugh, shaking your head, your fingers still threaded in his hair. Leon smiled down at you again, a much more gentle, sincere one that made your heartbeats stutter.

He slid his hand over your torso, slowly making his way up to your chest. Two of his fingers slipped beneath your sports bra, soothing over the curve of your breast before his nails grazed your nipple, drawing a soft gasp through your lips. 

A glint flashed in Leon’s eyes at the sound – a sweetly inquisitive light. His pupils were wide, like two pools of ink; but the mirth was laden there somewhere in those depths, leaping forth through the burning lust. It made his face soften once more as he peered up at you, a tender yet impish smile curling his lips. He moved his hand again, his touch picking up in confidence as he swiped his fingers over your nipple once more. 

Another small sigh of pleasure escaped your lips and all of a sudden, Leon was brimmed whole with the need to put his lips to your skin again. He pushed his mouth against your ribs, his tongue flickering out to claim a taste as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin. Then he remained there, his lips trailing a wet path up to the middle of your breasts before his fingers began peeling your sports bra back.

You let him unravel you even more, carefully prying the tight fabric away from your skin. He stared down at your exposed body with his mouth parted in awe. His tongue swiped over his lips before he surged forward again, driven by a need that he rendered to your breasts, taking each nipple with renewed fervor. 

Your chest arched into his touch, moaning breathlessly as he began moving towards your neck, his face practically burying itself in your skin with how hard he was pressing his mouth onto you. His kisses were much less forgiving now, fluttering from his lips with bruising intensity, as if each lustful stroke meant to strip your soul down more and more. 

Leon raised his mouth to your ear, his breath warm and uneven against your hair. “God, I need you,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice no longer bearing its previous hint of airiness, a rich beckoning of desire taking its place instead. “I need you so fucking bad.”

The breath knotted taut in your throat as you searched for words. You nodded fervently, moaning something incoherent before you rasped your agreement, weaving your fingers through his hair to push his face deeper against your neck, pulling a sharp breath from his lips. 

He thumbed your sides as he glanced down between your bodies, his temple pressed to your collarbone, he lifted his hips just enough to position his hard cock between your thighs. His tip pushed gently against your entrance and a soft groan escaped him as though he was already too sensitive. 

“Is this okay?” He paused to meet your eyes again; his face so close, his nose bumped against yours as he shifted his head. 

You nodded with a reassuring smile, coiling one arm around his shoulder as he squirmed ever so slightly, bringing him closer to yourself. A trembling breath flitted through his flushed lips once his hips thrust forward gingerly, the movement slow and cautious, yet his cock finally managed to slip through your sopping cunt.

Another heated groan rumbled in Leon’s throat once he burrowed himself deep inside you, the noise quickly morphing into a desperate, breathless moan. He had to stop for the briefest moment to gather himself, his breaths already short and labored. 

“Oh, my god,” he whined softly, readying himself to move. His face was nestled in your neck, his mouth pressed to you with every single breath flickering like a hot spark against your skin. “You feel amazing. You feel so amazing.” 

Your walls burned deliciously as they molded around his cock, the sensation rousing a satisfied noise from deep within your chest. His entire body was so incredibly warm and the weight of him pushing down onto you was nothing but pleasant; his skin was smooth beneath your gentle fingertips, a sheen of sweat glistening along his neck. He trembled like a leaf as though any moment, his threads were going to come undone.

When Leon began to move, he pushed into you with deliberate care; each thrust was slow but each sank deeply within you, drawing through your walls like a match engulfing in flames. He downed sharp gulps of breath, each exhale then leaving him in quivering wisps. He whimpered softly under your ear, his fingers pressing indents into your hips. He simply refused to pick up his speed. 

His words came rushing through his warm mouth. He kept murmuring incoherently under his breath, the sentences – if you could even hear a proper one, for that matter – twisted into high moans and shaky whimpers as soon as they toppled over his lips. He was a mess. It was pure evident that he was teetering on the brink already. And with how you kept clenching so tightly around him, his will to hold himself at bay was quickly fading.

“Oh, baby… oh, baby…” He kept chanting hoarsely in your ear, the words never finding a fruition, the sentences never fully realized. But even you could tell now: he was close.

You wound your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to yourself; your fingers moved to his hair again, coiling tightly through the soft locks. Leon whined deliriously into your neck before he raised his mouth to press it clumsily upon yours, his breathless noises flitting against your tongue as it flicked coyly at his. 

The movement of his hips have become erratic, almost shaky, his pace only slightly faster now. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, the skin beneath his fingertips beginning to protest the pressure but the ache only stoked the pleasure building to crescendo within your core.

“Fuck—I’m so close,” Leon groaned. “Oh, god, I can’t hold myself back anymore.” 

You pulled his face to yours again, your lips colliding roughly with his; and you whispered through the kiss, “go on then. Cum for me, baby.” To which he shook his head vigorously.

“No, no. I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He slowed his speed without waiting for your objection, returning to plowing deep thrusts inside you instead. He grunted with every effort, sweat rolling down the side of his face. You could see this was taking more out of him than he let on. He scrunched up his face, his teeth sinking into his lip. He was just so close. And it was taking every shred of will within him to not just empty his load inside you right then and there. 

“Come on, baby. What are you doing?” A soft frown curled your brows. “I want you to cum.”

You glided your fingers over his back, caressing the skin along his spine. You cooed a string of encouragements to him but he continued to shake his head at you, his body practically vibrating against yours now. You held his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were half-lidded and shiny, his breaths leaving him in short rapid bursts.

“Leon—listen to me. You’re gonna be good for me and cum. Alright?” He didn’t respond immediately and the small frown on your face turned into a stern raise of a brow. “Are you gonna be good?” 

Leon gave a resigned whine and nodded his head at last. “Fine. Okay. Fine. I’ll be good.” He sucked in a quick breath and finally, he upped his speed once more. “I’ll be good for you. Fuck.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want you to let yourself go for me.”

He nodded eagerly again, his lips, once more, seeking refuge against the soft skin of your neck. He bade your ears whimper upon whimper – those sweet delicate sounds that tickled your senses, growing more and more pronounced the closer he crept on the edge. He continued to shake and you had to wonder if he was still fighting against his own body. 

“You can go faster than that. Come on. I know you can do it.” 

A groan escaped from somewhere steep in his throat and now you knew, the last of his will had finally ebbed. He began fucking into you with much less reverence, the small cot beginning to squeak beneath the both of your weights. You arched your neck as a sudden tide of pleasure broke over your body, your mouth parting for a soft moan to flee. 

“Yeah, keep going like that. You’re doing so good.”

In response to your words, another breathless whine rushed through Leon’s teeth as he kissed along your throat, his hands rising to your sides and gripping you tightly against himself. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m so close again.” He moaned into your skin, his voice small and high-pitched, nearly breaking as it bounced lazily over those few words.

“I know, baby. I know. Don’t stop now. Just keep going.”

Leon groaned softly beneath your ear. His hips snapped against yours in a few short successions before his body grew suddenly still upon yours. A choked whimper rolled off his tongue, a desperate attempt to muffle himself as he prodded his face deeper into your neck again. His warm cum gushed through your folds, burying the seed within you as he continue to remain between your legs like that.

His breaths flickered sharp and heavy against your skin as he slowly came down, his grip over your body loosening ever so slightly. Once that blissful haze dissipated, his lips began tracing your neck again; but this time, the kisses were much softer, bearing a sated gentleness that made your heart swell with warmth. 

“I’m sorry,” you heard him mumble, his face refusing to lift from the crook of your shoulder. Then he finally leaned away to meet your eyes; his cheeks sweetly red, an adorable crooked grin curling the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You chuckled, your fingers dancing coyly on the back of his neck, toying with the silky wisps of hair plastered to his damp skin. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you reassured him but then, a wicked smirk grew across your lips. “You’re way too cute though.”

He rolled his eyes, scoffing softly, with that ever persistent smile still adorning his face. You snickered when his blush deepened, spreading all the way to his ears; and he gave a loud embarrassed groan, hiding his face against his own arm. 

“Stop it,” he whined. 

Your laughter grew in volume as you reached for his chin, holding it gently between two fingers before you turned his face towards yours again. His eyes were glassy and bright, a translucent shade as they peered down into yours with a lingering hint of sheepishness. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” you repeated, your voice a low growl through gritted teeth as if your heart couldn’t contain all the fondness it bore for your rookie.

Leon shook his head slowly, a small giggle bursting from his lips. His eyes were twinkling when he looked at you again, his lips giving into a doting smile. 

“You’re unbelievable.”

You gave another chuckle in response before he rest his head down against your chest. He took in a deep content breath, his fingers falling to your waist to begin trailing aimlessly over the skin. Your heart thumped slowly beneath his ear and he couldn’t help the smile that overcame his lips. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” He asked, his eyes slowly falling close, his voice barely a mumbled whisper. “This is… nice.”

“Of course.” You smiled when he gave you a short hum in return and you looked down at him, noticing the calm and the sweet innocence which had now replaced everything else on his face. You ran your fingers along his neck again. “You didn’t even hear me, did you?”

He was already fast asleep.  

Something loud stirred Leon from his sleep; an obnoxious wailing of a siren that startled him awake. It took him a moment to gather his surroundings, finding himself still naked from the night before, tangled in your thin white sheets. He blinked drowsily and frowned at the realization of your absence and then panic began to set in his stomach.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He nearly staggered to the floor in his haste to get out of the cot, clumsily reaching for his clothes that were scattered around the small room. His breaths were already short and labored as he got dressed and rushed out into the hallway, grimacing once the blaring noise embraced him whole.

The only thought on his mind was to find you.

He took off in the direction of the mess hall, his eyes widening in surprise when a group of armed soldiers hurried past him, bellowing demands over the shrieking noise. This wasn’t just a regular drill, Leon quickly realized, his cheeks tingling from the cold wash of dread. He caught up to the commanding officer whose face was red with sweat and distorted into a scowl.

“Kennedy! The hell are you doing here?” He yelled gruffly.

“What is going on?”

Leon flinched as the loud echo of gunshots rang out through the space, instinctively grasping his head between his hands. A light tremor broke over his body, his heart racing at the very possibility of something truly horrifying.

“We’re on lockdown. Get yourself to the hangar. NOW.”

He nodded fervently in response and began running again, finding another group of soldiers who were headed in the same direction and followed them out to the warm air of the early morning. The dawn was slowly breaking in the distant horizon as he made it to the hangar.

It was easy to make out your frantic voice above the agitated chatter in the room. You were yelling about something but this time, your anger was turned towards another high ranking soldier. He was a much older man. Someone he could tell to be your superior. However, that didn’t stop you from leaning close to his face to scream at him.

“Corporal, with all due respect, that’s the worst choice in this situation.” Leon heard you spit angrily as he stopped in the front of the hangar, standing just ahead of the rest of the crowd of soldiers. “We can’t use the recruits as fucking bait.”

The older soldier straightened his back, his chest puffed out, leaning forward in your space in return to your defiance; a snarl was set deep in his features, his tall domineering stature doing very little to quell your confidence. You didn’t back down. Not even slightly. You held his gaze with as much fortitude even though you had to tip your head back to keep glaring at him.

“We need all hands on deck, (L/N). My word is final. Hand out the damn guns!”

Leon walked closer to you as Corporal distanced himself. He put a careful hand on your shoulder, his heart skipping a beat when you flinched in response to his touch. Your wide eyes met his immediately, a gentleness growing amidst the feral fury within them as soon as he offered you a small but strained smile.

“You’re okay, Lieutenant?” He asked softly, leaning closer to your shoulder. “What’s going on?”

He watched quietly as you heaved an exasperated sigh and knead your eyes before you turned fully to face him.

“Banshee broke out of her restraints at some point in the night. We’re trying to take her down but—”

Leon frowned, his grip tightening slightly on your shoulder, waiting patiently for you to explain but anxiety was threading deeply through his body like thorny vines, clutching painfully at his pounding heart. You sighed again and a speck of that previous anger returned to your voice once you started speaking again.

“But we dealt some fucking casualties already. Now somebody,” you sneered begrudgingly, throwing a sharp thumb over your shoulder at Corporal, “came up with the idea to dispatch the recruits.”

His pulse throbbed in his ears as he listened to you, a soft frown weighing on his features, trepidation sinking deep in the pit of his stomach. Eventually, he let his hand fall slowly back to his side and managed another pursed smile.

“I can do this—”

“NO!” Leon cringed at the unexpected raise of your voice. You grabbed his shoulder and peered deep into his face. You looked scared. More scared than he’d ever seen you. Your eyes were blown wide and your pupils were trembling; a thin veil of glassiness coated them, making them glisten, almost as if you were tearing up. “I cannot – I will not let you. You’ll stay here.That’s an order.”

He smiled again, much more kindly this time, a warm look in his eyes. He squeezed your hand on his shoulder with his reassuringly, before raising his fingers to touch your face.

“With all due respect, if we’re going to fight then we’re fighting together. Besides,” his lips curved into a warm smile, “I’m not letting you go out there without me.”

You shook your head in disbelief as you heard your own words thrown back at you, tears welling up in your eyes. Leon fought the urge to engulf you in his arms right then and there, his chest gripping with ache at the sight of your distraught face. His thumb began brushing over your cheek.

“I can handle this, I promise. Let me come with you. I feel safer that way.”

Your fists curled tightly as you averted your eyes, gritting your teeth. You were in war with yourself, caught in the crossfire of your heart and your mind – the urge to protect Leon and the sensibility of letting him take care of himself. At last, you let a sharp exhale through your nose and gave him a defeated yet determined glance, your head dipping in a small nod. Then you, albeit hesitantly, handed him a gun.

“Stick close to me. Am I clear?”

Leon smiled, letting the gun mold comfortably in his arms. “Yes, Miss.”

“Alright.” You turned your attention towards the room. “We do this as Corporal planned. Everyone, assume your positions.” You unsheathed your own pistol and cocked it with a dirty glare. “We’re taking down the mutant.”

A deafening silence surged through the hangar as recruits sought their assigned groups, their thudding heels against the ground the only noise tearing through the thick air of uneasiness. 

Leon stood closer to you, his skin crawling with goosebumps as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. This was really happening. The only thing soothing his nerves was your mere presence beside him, filling him with a calming sense of security even as you stood with just one good arm to go into the battle with; the pistol sat in your palm as if it could belong to you alone.

You turned to him, your face grim as you addressed him once again. “It’s on sight, Kennedy. You see Banshee, you shoot. And you don’t aim at anything but her head. Understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” He nodded curtly, donning a courageous look as he cocked his own weapon. 

“Good.” You turned to the crowd once more, yelling much more authoritatively this time when you spoke again, “we’re moving out!”

Everyone moved quietly. It was as though their feet were gliding upon air as the formation of the recruits hurried outside towards the base, the first rays of the morning light shedding a blanket of pale gold over the moving bunch. 

Leon trailed close behind you the entire way, watching you make gestures with your hand once near the building, ordering the formation to dispense and cover as much ground as possible. Then you turned over your shoulder to look at him as Corporal joined your side.

“We’re going in. Stay on guard.”

You nodded once at your superior and without hesitation, he kicked the double doors open. Your small group rushed inside, enfolded once again by the shrieking siren. Disembodied demands were hurled constantly, the words faint over the thunderous noise as you led the way inside. 

Gunshots reverberated through the halls, distant agonized screams bouncing off of the white walls. Mutilated bodies littered the once pristine tiled floors. The thick stench of blood was overbearing, its sight a constant nauseating presence. 

Leon was overwhelmed. His mind kept flashing back to Raccoon City, his thoughts racing with those tainted memories that were quickly riling him up. His grip began to shake on his gun, his heart practically hammering in his throat and all of a sudden, he froze. The sight of the pile of carcass through a corridor was enough to lock him up inside his own brain.

“LEON!” 

He heard the yell too late, only coming to when another shot was fired. He recoiled as the unexpected sound ripped through the fog of his thoughts, his eyes snapping to yours. You grabbed his arm and hauled him to a safe corner as bullets hailed down upon you.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, slowly gathering his bearings again.

His eyes searched you and a frown quickly formed at his brows. You slumped to the floor with a hand clutched tightly at your stomach; blood seeped through your fingers, spreading rapidly over your shirt like ink. You were shaking, panting, and your eyes were wide with panic.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Leon dropped to his knees beside you on the ground, his voice low but frantic as he took in the dire state you were in. “Stop, stop. Calm down, sweetheart. Please.”

He pressed his hands over your wound, trying his damndest to ignore your shallow erratic breaths, the awareness of what had happened dawning on him. His broad, terrified eyes staring at the gaping void in your stomach that continued to gush with blood. 

“Shhh… shhh… please, baby. Take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. You—you’re going to be okay.” His eyes raised to yours, sweat beaded at his brow. He spoke in a hushed yell, “why the hell did you do that for?”

Your panting finally slowed when you tackled the initial bout of panic but your body continued to tremble. Leon chewed his lip as he watched you; your eyes were lidded. He could see the hard movement of your chest as you heaved every breath with difficulty. This didn’t look good. He struggled to shove down his mounting terror as he stared helplessly at you, his hands still covering your wound with pressure. Warm tears began stinging the corners of his vision.

“Leon…” You muttered weakly, reaching your bloody fingers to his face. “I’m so sorry. I…” You trailed off, never finishing that train of thought.

He leaned into your touch as your hand palmed his cheek, gritting his teeth and blinking back the downpour of tears.

“I’m – I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Please stop talking.” He said hoarsely.

“It’s okay. I’m not scar—” You were caught off by a rattling cough, blood spitting through your lips. “I’m not scared of dying. I’m content. For once.”

Leon held your wrist and clutched your hand against his chest, his tears wetting his lashes, his nostrils pink and flaring.  

“Take care… alright? You’re my – you’re my favorite vice.”

Vices, vices. Of course. You were struggling to speak, to move, to breathe. He could see it. His heart sank when more blood trickled down your lip. He held the side of your face as your neck began to go limp, lifting your head and forcing you to meet his eyes again.

“Don’t you die on me. Please.”

You managed a small smile and gave him a weak nod of your head. “It’s gonna be okay.” A futile attempt to comfort him as you squeezed his hand with the last sliver of your strength.

His bloody fingers raked through your hair, unable to do anything else but watch the glimmer fade in your eyes. Once your grip over his hand was gone, he knew that you were, too. Yet, the revelation dropped like an anchor in his stomach. His hold tightened in your hair, moving your head from side to side as if he was trying to wake you from a deep sleep.

“(Y/N). Please, no!” His voice wavered as he spoke. “Oh. Oh, god…”

But he had no time to mourn; a hand soon found his shoulder and forced him back to his feet. His eyes broadened as he watched you get farther and farther away from him, his feet moving against his own will.

“Let’s go, rookie.” He heard Corporal whisper to him in a gentle tone – one unheard of him until then.

Leon’s eyes fleeted over the older man’s face. The wrinkles between his brows were drawn deeply, his lips pursed as if he was holding himself back from speaking anything more. But the heartbreak glistened in his dark eyes as he stared straight ahead, his hand still wrapped securely around his arm.

“We have to get her.”

“We will.” Corporal responded with a firm nod. “But first, we survive.”

And survive they did.

It was a few hours of sheer hell. Many were slain and, in the end, Banshee escaped after nearly wiping out the entire base. However, Leon stood among his remaining comrades outside in what was once the training field, taking in the ruin which has become of the base. Smoke wafted over the white roof of the building, uncoiling like a black serpentine, a taunting dance of defeat in the clear sky as the sun slowly set over the horizon.

Leon fell to his feet in exhaustion; and as he laid there on the dirt, staring at the fading skies overhead, the weight of reality finally crashed down over his head. So many great soldiers dead. So many lives felled. And you. He drew a deep, quivering breath.

You.

The last few months of training were an uneventful blur. The surviving recruits were moved to a different base and Leon felt utterly lost. For the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do. It was as though he had survived Raccoon City all over again. But this time around, there was no you to help him navigate, to forget. Even if only briefly. 

Alas, he managed to finish those months that seemed to drag on end. He knew that was what you would’ve wanted from him; to live on – hence why you weren’t there anymore to see him graduate. But if that was all it took to help him through day after day, he was going to hold onto it like his lifeline.

After graduation, the first place Leon visited was that same city you had promised to go with him one day, to show him around the ruins and rubbles of what once pledged a great change to him. The same place that led him down a spiral instead, a cursed shadow now hanging over his head which only seemed to grow thicker and thicker.

He wasn’t going to miss it. Not this damn city. And certainly, not your absence. As he emerged slowly on the brink of Raccoon City, returning from his visit with one of his old commanding officers, he turned to look at the demolished skyline one last time as the first winter snow began to fall, the white beads glowing shyly against the vast darkness of the night. 

The wait was over now. He could finally go out there and leave all of this behind.

His warm sigh left him in a pale cloud as he slowly turned away and towards the flaring headlights of the military truck behind him. Without looking back, he walked to the car and slid into the backseat. He met the driver’s eyes through the rearview mirror and gave him a small nod.

“I’m ready to go.”

He leaned his elbow against the car door as the engine spurred to life, his eyes momentarily flickering to his side at the box of his belongings, that fresh and young pot of plant which was once yours sat atop. 

A faint smile shadowed over his lips as he picked the plant up with one hand and held it under the passing blur of streetlights that poured inside the vehicle. He stroked one of its leaves between two fingers, his smile turning downward as he sighed again. 

It’s gonna be okay, he thought solemnly to himself.

[hadesrise]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐈𝐍.

summary ➳ you’re sinfully divine, an addicting drug no rehab could fix. it’s not like mickey wanted to, anyway.

pairings ➳ mikhailo “mickey” milkovich x male reader

warnings ➳ nsfw content, foul language, top!reader, bottom!mickey, attractive nerd reader (with glasses n’ shit), rough sex, choking, praise kink, degradation if you squint, pet names, size difference, reader’s a freaking giant with big dick lmao, slight possessiveness, belly bulge, dumbification, dacryphilia

author’s note ➳ mickey milkovich brain rot. also tumblr quality being shit 😠

MINORS & FEM READERS DNI !!

Mickey found himself unable to keep his eyes and hands off of you. He would convince himself there’s nothing to the way he stares at you from across the room, how his eyes would cloud with unspeakable lust as they run along your tall frame, checking out every hidden muscles he knew was underneath your slightly oversized clothing, how he unconsciously licks his lips when you tilt your head back and stretch with a tiny moan of satisfaction over the cracking back bones leaving your lips.

He convinces himself he isn’t into you.

At least, he does in daylight. But when the sun falls and moon rises instead as the sky darkens into a midnight blue, those denials and convincing ends up disappearing into the void within his mind, thoughts consumed by you alone. Your low voice as you speak praises and degrading words to him simultaneously, your hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing while the other grips his hips and no doubt leaving bruise, your hips thrusting relentlessly at a speed he didn’t know you could muster, your fucking cock that’s long and thick and hits every right spot.

There’s a little sense of triumphant in him, the knowledge that only he could ever see you like this — so rough, so dominant, wild, like a beast had been freed from its chains. Your usual angelic demeanor and personality drastically changing behind closed doors as you slowly pick him apart piece by piece, the want and need to break him flashing itself dangerously in your dark and lustful eyes, sending waves of thrilling excitement throughout Mickey’s body.

You had him bent over the cold desk, his wrists pinned to the surface by one of your big hands as the other held his hips in a bruising grip, roughly and relentlessly thrusting into him that had him moaning loudly and spurting series of curses and nonsense words. His hole still tight and almost sucking you in despite how used it already was being a proof that you managed to rearrange his guts into the shape of your own cock, making them perfectly fit against each other.

“(Y/n)— Oh, oh, fuck!” Mickey cried out as you continuously rammed your dick in him, keeping a steady rough pace, grunts leaving your lips once in a while. He had already came three times, the side of the desk stained in his cum and dripping down to the floor, his legs trembling from the overstimulation.

“Take it so fucking well, Mikhailo.” You nearly growled, punctuating your words with strong thrusts that had him seeing stars, your cock reaching deep into his guts with each snap of your hips. “Taking it like a good slut, letting me use your cunt whenever I want...” You let out a dark chuckle, sending shivers down his spine.

“More, please,” He whined and arched his back, both hands gripping the edge of the desk, not even struggling against your tight hold on his wrists. Surely, there would be a hand-shaped mark around them once you’re done with him. “Deeper, fuck, wanna feel it poking my fucking stomach, pleasepleaseplease,” Brain too fucked out to think coherently, Mickey babbled and pushed his ass against you, moaning.

“Look at you,” You whistled, leaning over to lick the back of his ear, making his hips jerk. “So fucking pathetically drunk on my cock. Almost want them to see what a whore Milkovich you are.” The whispered humiliation going straight to his brain and cock, you felt him clench around you as he mewled, tears spilling from his pretty little blue eyes. Even your words alone could make him feel this euphoric, almost cumming right then and there.

Mickey could never get over how you drastically change between morning and night — so divine and angelic in the morning with your hands reaching out to people in need of help, gaze soft and welcoming as melody of kindness and warm heart spill from your lips. You’re soft and warm, practically the epitome of peace with how everyone finds themselves relaxed around your presence. The sunlight creating an illusion of halo above your head. Light colored clothes and round spectacles adding more emphasis to your gentle tall giant persona. However, at night, you pull off that kind and perfect mask only to Mickey, soft smiles turning into cocky or arrogant grins and smirks, atmosphere entirely changing to that of lust and filthiness as your lips speak sinful words that never failed to make his head spin and heart jackhammer against his ribcage. You’re sly and arrogant, and too proud, to say the least. Very very prideful due to the knowledge that only you can manhandle, use, and ruin the Milkovich. An angel suddenly morphing into a sinful being.

He couldn’t get fucking enough of it despite the internalized homophobia tightly attached to his soul.

But with you, he doesn’t have to think about that. Insecurities that are drilled into his mind being pushed back by your sole presence; he doesn’t have to be afraid of being feminine or not matching the Society’s gender stereotype, because with you, he can be weak, vulnerable, good. There’s no toxic masculinity to hold him back.

Mickey was fucking addicted to this angelic sin, and you sure as hell felt the same even though words of confirmation never left your lips.

His mind started to go blank as you angled your hips to adjust your cock inside him, wanting to make sure it perfectly hits his prostate, before abruptly snapping your hips to his. Mickey cried out, nearly screaming when you started going deep and fast on him, the roughness of your thrusts making the desk almost move with each movement. “Oh! Ohhhh, fuck! Ahgh, mm!” His moans were loud, you’re sure the neighbors heard it. The stinging pain of your big fucking dick stretching him more open with each drag of your hips causing him to see stars in pleasure.

“Come on, baby,” You cooed, a big contrast to your relentless pace fucking his brains out. “You can take it more.”

Mickey whines, throwing his head back and eyes rolling back to his skull when you sink into him deeper, he could feel his stomach bulging from the thick and big size of your dick. “F-fuck, too deep... Yesyesyes, please, (Y/n), fuck— Fuck me more.”

He fucking loves it, the way your massive size and height never fails to have complete control over him. How your big body traps him between you and the desk, figure towering over him; it makes it so fucking easy for you to assert dominance and manhandle him however you please. He loves everything about you and your large frame.

“You love it, don’t ya? Having my cock so deep in you that it’s pokin’ your stomach? Ruining you, fuckin’ you dumb?” You chuckled, fastening your pace as uncontrollable moans and whimpers fall from Mickey’s lips. His mind in a daze, drool dripping from his open mouth that long forgot to close itself, fat tears running down his cheeks, the euphoric pleasure becoming too much.

“Y-yes, oh my god!” Mickey moaned, nodding his head vigorously. “Love—love it so fucking much,” He stuttered as another broken moan slips out.

You hum appreciatively, “Pretty little slut.” Leaning over him, your hand reached over to his throat and squeezed, earning a guttural moan from Mickey as his hole clenched tightly and his cock twitched. He tilts his head back and allows you more access to his throat, which encouraged you to squeeze more until he became light-headed.

“F-fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum, gonna cum,” Mickey breathlessly cries out, legs shaking violently as cum spilled from his rapidly twitching cock, vision seeing white and mind going absolutely dumb.

Groaning, you cursed quietly and let go of his wrists to grip his hips with both hands, continuing to pound into his oversensitive hole and ignoring his sobs of stop i just came, followed by screams of pleasure and overstimulation. He’s so sensitive it hurts, but he didn’t want you to stop despite his pleas to. He wanted you to use him, be your cum dump until you’re satisfied, wanted you to fill him to the brim and feel the white sticky cum dripping down his legs. He wanted you to take your frustrations out on him. He wanted to be your toy.

Mickey knows you know that. You know how he feels and how he thinks. It made excitement course through his veins, knowing you’re willing to fulfill every bit of his unspoken desire. You were angelic like that.

“Such a good boy,” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and making goosebumps rise on his skin. “Gonna make me cum, aren’t you? Let me fuck you ‘til I’m satisfied like a good boy, hm?”

“Yes, yes,” He nodded dumbly, slamming his hand against the desk and arching his back. You snapped your hips harshly, which made Mickey’s eyes roll back into his head as he came once again with a guttural moan, painting the side of the desk with his seed.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” You groaned, slamming your dick into him mercilessly, uncaring of how Mickey’s legs were giving up as your hands are the only thing that kept him up. His toes curling, nails scratching on the desk’s surface, sobs wrecking through his body. God, you were fucking ruining him. It made you shiver with sadistic thrill. Your thrusts slowly becomes sloppy with your own orgasm getting near, cock twitching inside him.

“In me, fuck, in me, please.” He whined, reaching back to grab your hand that was gripping his hips.

A grin spreads across your face and you intertwined your fingers with his, “Of course, sweetheart. Wouldn’t cum anywhere else.” You thrusted harshly a few times before burying your cock completely inside him as the orgasm hits, filling every bit of him with moans erupting from your throat. Mickey mewls, followed by a whimper, feeling the warmth inside, face showing absolute bliss. He touches the formed bulge on his stomach while letting out soft moans and whimpers, seemingly in trance.

Thrusting sloppily to ride out your high, you press kisses on his back before sinking your teeth on his shoulder to leave a bite mark. Mickey’s hips buckled, moaning.

“You’re mine, Mick.” You mutter in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “No matter how much you deny, you’re mine. And at the end of the day, you’ll always come back to me, begging to be fucked and stuffed full.” Wrapping your hand around his throat again, you squeezed lightly as Mickey whimpered at the possessive gesture. “Can’t escape me forever, sweetheart.”

Mickey closes his eyes, humming and melting against your body, the denial dying down deep within his mind, looking almost in content.

He wouldn’t dream of it. You’re an angelic sin he could never repent of.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[generalb]

Concept custom card for King Ghidorah, specifically the version from King of the Monsters!

Now usually I’d include my reasonings for the abilities and whatnot here, but I spend the better part of an hour figuring this shit out, and all of that brainstorming? I did on this post. So if you’re interested in how I came to this, it’s all under the cut. If you want an *exact* explanation for the abilities, send a reply on this post! As always, constructive criticism and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Oh and before I forget,

(Personally I’m leaning a bit towards yes)

How would I go about making a King Ghidora mtg card?

A better question: how would I make a *unique* King Ghidora magic card?

We have to start with the basis of what I know about King Ghidora, which is unfortunately very little. Most of what I know comes from common knowledge, the semi-recent King of the Monsters film, and that weird version in the anime trilogy that was on Netflix that one time. Is that paltry amount of information good enough? Let’s see.

King Ghidora:

Flies

Is from space

Has three heads

Can regenerate said heads and probably partial amounts of itself

Can fire energy beams from all three heads

Is usually on par or stronger than Godzilla.

In Kotm, it’s able to corral other Kaijus to work for it, what with that whole Alpha Titan nonsense.

Seems like a good enough start right?

Wrong! Let me explain by saying why the Godzilla custom card I made is of Shin Godzilla, and not normal Godzilla.

The difficulty in making a plain Godzilla card is because he’s a giant lizard that has a ranged attack. Normally, this translates into a creature with a high toughness and power, maybe a trample or menace, and then an ability that would do ranged damage to creatures. There’d even be space for flavor text.

This is the conundrum I see with a king Ghidora. At most, I can give it Flying, high power/toughness, and maybe an attack that can deal a certain amount of damage up to one, two, or three targets to represent the three heads. But that isn’t interesting to me! If you don’t know, Ikoria released a lot of giant creatures.

Like, a lot of them. Hell, this was the set that had the Godzilla Secret layers that didn’t mesh well enough to get me interested in the first place!

Now perhaps I just don’t go out enough anymore, but I don’t think I’ve run into any of these giant creatures from Ikoria. Some like the Apex’s can be excused since Ikoria also leaned heavily into the Mutate mechanic along with the giant Beasts. But there plenty of creatures, legendary or not, that are still in play in commander from even before Ikoria, sometimes because their abilities are just plain stupid(Krenko Mob Boss) but most others due to how fun it is to build a deck around(Xantcha, Sleeper Agent).

When i look to play commander, i want someone strong, perhaps not op, but im at least looking for abilities where i can say, “yeah, that’s cool! I can think of a way to exploit it.” And when i look at a big flying dinosaur alien that fires lasers, i just don’t see it. King Ghidora, in all its complexity, manages to be as boring as King Kong in terms of abilities. Very cool in the movies, but in card building? There’s very little I can see that i could give it that couldn’t just be given to a Godzilla card or any other Titan.

I could give it the alpha nonsense but even that could go on a Godzilla or even King Kong card if I went there. No, the truly unique part of Ghidora that baseline Godzilla doesn’t appear to have is its regenerative effects. But even that is hard to represent. While the Keyword Ability Regenerate does exist, it’s not exactly in theme. Ghidora, after all, isn’t able to completely regenerate from scratch, else it wouldn’t have lost to Godzilla. And usually, all creatures “regenerate” at the end of each turn, reverting to their power/toughness before any damage dealt.

Of course, I’m not the first to take a crack at this. What have others done for Ghidora?

…hmm. There’s *some* neat ideas. Nothing that scrathes right though. What if I go back and watch the first fight between it and Godzilla in kotm?

Okay first off WOW they keep cutting to the people so much in these fights. Remember when people were mad they cut away form the fights in the 2014 movie? I’d rather that then Monster-human-monster-human-monster. Jesus.

Anyways, something neat I noticed: Ghidora isn’t exactly stronger than Godzilla per se, but is smarter. The three heads often worked to subdue Godzilla rather than deal massive, devastating blows. Guessing here, but it seems that its Anti-Godzilla strategy is to tire it out and then go for the kill.

Hmm…..strong, but not much stronger…..works smarter, evades Godzillas biggest attacks, and doesn’t seem to take much damage when they hit anyways. Laser beams. Intimidation tactics. Sends smaller Titans to fight and weaken. Indirect damage?

You know, I’m starting to see something here. Perhaps Izzet? You know what cards are coming to mind? ghyrson Starn, Kelermorph, Captain Ripley Vance, and Stella Lee, Wild Card. I like it’s 6/6, but with the abilities I’m thinking of, perhaps a 4/5 would be a bit more even. What can happen in thirds enough that it could be done at least once per turn but not to the point that it’s insane?

Ghidorah is clever, to the point where it uses sources outside its natural abilities . In that case, I think some form of card manipulation might be possible. Perhaps something that lets you look at the 3 top cards of your library , before putting them back in any order. Than another ability that lets you revela the top of your deck, and if it’s a creature, King Ghidorah deals 3 damage to any target? This is a neat idea, but it doesn’t feel like something a Kaiju should be able to do.

Ooo! I’ve got it! Storm! Okay I have an idea I’m gonna go put it together

[fallecupid]

"how could i love you?"

.ᐟ.ᐟ warnings :ㅤ angst!dean.ㅤvampire!reader.ㅤgn!reader.ㅤㅤㅤword count: 6k

( author's note : i apologize in advance for errors in this text / vague wording / words that are incorrect in meaning ( if any are present in the content. ) english is not my native language, everything written below has been translated by a translator. )

The heavy clanking of chains and the dampness of the basement hit you like cold water in the morning. Confusedly trying to get some focus of events, you shook your head, almost instantly calling out an irritated lurch somewhere behind you. The gears were slowly banging one against one in your brain, not ready to acknowledge the worst of it. Though it was clear in the back of your mind that it was Dean. You could have sworn you were about to meet his disappointed gaze, or worse, a silver bullet to the forehead.

The man grabbed your chin sharply, not even trying to control the force with which he squeezed the soft skin that once held you so sweetly against him. "Don't look away, the least you can do is look at me." Dean leaned in slightly, gritting his teeth almost to the point of grinding. "After all the shit you pulled on me. How long did you think you'd be a doormat?" He cut himself short, pulling away and crossing his arms over his chest as a low rumble came from you.

The noise intensified behind you, and within minutes Dean Winchester was standing in front of you. His green eyes darkened, like he saw some bastard he should take his life, but damn it was ironic. You pressed your lips together, unable to even look at him.

A tiny signal of how much pain he was holding you in. To his inner turmoil, Winchester let go, he would blame himself again and again later, but not now. "Just let me explain..." Your parched lips cracked as you tried in vain to moisten them with saliva. Winchester, squinted his eyes, unable to hide the way his inner demons were eating away at him.

He couldn't get his mind around how disgusting you were. The little snake he held close, the bloodsucker in the same bed as him. It was utter nonsense, but it was true. And the worst part was that he loved you, even now, through the prism of hatred, he loved you.

The man paced the damp floor, which creaked treacherously beneath him, sagging wetly. "Try explaining." The chilling tone cut into you like a knife to the heart, but with the stipulation that it had been spun a few times. Under that invisible vise, the only thing you could do was stare meekly at the floor, swaggering your words.

"I wanted to say earlier...But i was enjoying the moment too much, you know? All your love, your affection, your smile, those damn teases.... Everything was available to me, like I'd won the damn lottery." You didn't dare look at him, just squirmed.

Dean stopped, looking at you, pursing his lips. A weak excuse, you knew full well he was smashing heads with the likes of you every damn day, yet you still lived off of fortune. Either you were a goddamn lunatic or crazy in love. He almost suppressed a smirk, running those words through his head.

But the moment of weakness didn't last long, he would remember again the moments where you almost got caught. The perpetual night walks, the drops of blood caked on your clothes, the odd behavior, after all. But Dean was just a brainless puppy in love for turning a blind eye so easily. Now all he wanted to do was bang his head against the wall a few times to beat the crap out of himself and the idea that you deserved forgiveness.

Still circling beside you, he hissed in your ear, warm breath stated with dry speech. "That's a weak excuse. If you'd lost control and gnawed on a neighborhood, right? A city? You're dangerous as hell." The man touched your neck, nuzzling it in a light touch, averting his gaze. Now the gears were already working in his brain. It was as if some contradiction was showing its ugly head every time he spat those caustic words at you, every time he wanted to take your head off. God damn him.

Still clutching your neck, his eyes followed yours, those damn eyes full of fear and despair, those damn eyes in which he was drowning and still is. Those lips, now pressed almost to white, used to kiss him supplely. Your hair, the familiar tuft of hair that rippled against his skin. And it was now that it overwhelmed him, as if he were looking through an old family album.

But that's the thing about scrapbooks, they hold those memories that can only be remembered, not realized. You're a monster, you killed innocent people, manipulated them. Torn in a cycle of doubt, he didn't notice how damn hard he squeezed your throat, of course it wouldn't kill you, but noticeable discomfort it might bring.

"Shit shit shit shit, I-" As if coming out of a trance, he recoiled, looking at your face, you almost on the verge of tears. The irony was eerily funny, because he too felt a lump somewhere in the middle of his throat.

"Just tell me, what the hell? Why are you torturing me?" He pressed his lips together, running his fingers through his hair. "You know damn well I can't kill you, but you look at me like I'm the ultimate evil of all." Muttering quietly, Dean took a few deep breaths, looking at you slightly blurred.

Shit. He can't just take your life, not after you pulled him out of a shit hole, not after you helped him rebuild Sammy, not after you gave him a goddamn house. He found a piece of himself. He'd already lost one, his father, and he wasn't ready to lose one by his own stupid oversight.

In fact, you'll handle everything together, won't you? Dean knelt down in front of you, his hands convulsively squeezing your cheeks, on which tears had long since flowed. The man pressed his forehead against yours, his voice shaking like he was in forty-degree cold. "I'm sorry, i'm sorry i'm a fool." He looked at you. "No, you're not.... Anyone in your shoes would have done the same." You muttered, meeting his gaze.

"I'm in my place right now and i'm being an idiot for letting myself love you." Bitter longing mixed with the heaviness of his voice as calloused fingers drew faint circles on your cheeks. "Hey... don't cry." Winchester leaned toward you, absorbing the regret in your eyes.

"That's right, you're a complete idiot for not shooting me in the head." Trembling, your hand tentatively reaches for his hair, groping the area. But here you are: he suppliantly reaches for you, unable to look at you anymore. It's as if all his hateful feeling has been washed away by the speech water, as if you were never a blood-singing brat and he never dreamed of killing you.

It's like everything's back to normal. He's beside you, you're stroking his hair, and he's tucking his lips into your shoulder. It's all so familiar, so warm. So much so that it could have been a happy dream, but no. We're in a harsh reality where every parasite will get to every innocent.

Just by that, you receive a crushing blow to the heart, his revolver filled with silver bullets poking into your soft chest. He doesn't even try to hold back the tears that are traitorously pouring out of him, the only thing he can do is scream as he stares at your now breathless body. Dean could have sworn there was a phrase frozen on your lips that cut his heart worse than any knife. "I love you."

Winchester's always been a hunter. No matter how long he pretends this doesn't concern him, he can't just leave it alone. Even if he's ready to shoot himself now, even if he feels himself shattering into a million pieces right now, he's still a hunter. And you, you're the vampire, the one he's hunting.

[katboykirby]

mc: i come to thee requesting aid for a terrible problem that hath just occurred. without you i may perish

satan: you need me to kill someone for you? of course. what are we thinking? immediate and painful or more of a death trap situat-

mc: there's a kitty stuck in a tree and i can't reach it :(

satan: GUIDE ME TO THE POOR BEAUTY AT ONCE

Satan would 100% be ready to kill for you at a moment's notice. Remember in the "Blue Spring Paradise" Pop Quiz event story, when MC asked if they were going to beat the shit out of Levi's bullies? Satan was the first one to stand up and agree with you. He was IMMEDIATELY ready to kill and maim the moment the suggestion came out of your mouth.

So you'll probably have to help him turn on the brakes first before you can explain yourself properly. He gets fired up over you very quickly, so you'll need to help him focus on the actual reason you need him before he goes off in a killing frenzy in your name.

As soon as he's calm and you explain that there's a cat stuck in one of the trees out in the garden, Satan goes into a whole new, different kind of frenzy - he's overtaken by the need to save and protect that precious, innocent ball of fluff!

He'll drop everything he's doing, no matter how important. He'll grab you and pull you with him as he runs from his room and dashes as fast as he can for the door, moving at speeds that a mere human could never hope to achieve. You're already outside in the garden of the House of Lamentation before you know it, and Satan has both hands on your shoulders as he asks you "Where is it? Show me where it's suck, which tree did you see it in?" and you point out the exact spot you had seen it, leading the way so Satan could come to the kitty's rescue.

Lucifer could hear the racket, and he came looking for you to make sure that his brothers weren't getting you into any trouble. He follows the sound of your voice shouting something, and he heads outside to check the garden, standing on the porch and staring at the sight in front of him with mild bewilderment.

You are standing at the foot of one of many trees, looking up at something in the branches and shouting instructions. Lucifer follows your line of sight and heaves a weary, exhausted sigh when he sees Satan climbing up toward something near the top of the tree.

"What in the Devildom are the two of you doing out here?" Lucifer asks, coming to stand beside you and craning his neck up to watch Satan crawling along a branch. "What nonsense is it this time?"

You explain that you're trying to help a cat, pointing out the tiny fuzzball that Satan was slowly inching closer and closer to. Lucifer just shakes his head, rubbing at the space between his eyes like he was staving off a headache.

"Really. You know, you both could have come to me first" he tells you. "I'd have sorted this out for you easily, without Satan making a fool of himself"

You were glad that Satan was too high up to be able to hear what his older brother was saying. You took a step back to make some room, and you watched as Lucifer muttered a few words and cast a spell. There was a glowing blue light, and then -

Suddenly, Satan was standing back in front of you with both feet firmly on the ground. He had a few leaves stuck to his clothes and there was a twig caught in his hair, but otherwise he appeared to be fine. Thankfully, he had the kitten safely in his arms. He looked a little surprised to be back on the ground all of a sudden, but quickly got over it when the kitten mewled happily and batted at his sweater with its little paws.

"Look, I got him" Satan beamed at you, holding up the little kitty for you to see. "He's safe and sound, thanks to us"

"Thanks to me, you mean" Lucifer exhaled, crossing his arms. "If you had fallen out of that tree and cracked your skull open, it would have been your own fault. Just come to me next time instead of doing something so foolish"

Satan was either ignoring Lucifer, or his joy at saving the kitten was so great that he didn't even notice his brother was talking to him. He was too busy petting the baby in his arms, babbling to you about how you were its hero and what he wanted to name it. He was flushed and breathing a little heavier than normal after scaling the height of that tree, but he couldn't stop grinning.

"Just make sure you clean yourself up before coming back inside" Lucifer sighed. "And we aren't keeping that cat"

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Hey babes,

Idk why but there's been a headcannon that was just stuck in my head and hear ne out on this...

When you posted the chats 'small but mighty', all I could think about was them having to deal with an MC in the adhd spectrum. Like her going on random rants about different mutliversal theories and then getting distracted by like, idk, a cat bouncing off the walls??? OH OR LIKE HER USUAL MOOD BEING A CRACKHEAD AND THEN SWITCHING UP WITH THE MOST MIND BOGGLING YET GENIUS SHIT POSSIBLE.

((I literally wanna see my boys {SYLUS} to just go through whiplash with her mood switches. This could also continue with bpd or MC being on the autism spectrum. I just thought it would be interesting to see MC in that way.))

[P.s. excuse the rant, midnight crack shits hitting my good ol' noggin up like someone's bitchy ex.]

Hey Lux 🫶🏾 I made a text smau for this one with mc just spouting nonsense that actually strangely makes sense. I also did a headcanon??(now you're wondering Nika why tf does that have question marks 🤨) its different from the way I usually write my headcanons it's certain things I deal with having adhd and how I think they would react.

Headcanon coming tomorrow you get the text smau today.

[kingofech0park]

because i look for you (everywhere i go)

In which Oikawa Tooru is a man on a reconnaissance mission, a reclamation mission, a how-to-find-your-best-friend-you-fell-in-love-with-after-almost-a-year-of-falling-apart mission.

(The link to the fic on a03 is in the title! I know its bad guys I KNOW. It's my first fic in like five years okay and probably one of my first oneshots and definitely my first iwaoi fic but i hope u enjoy!!)

______

“This will never work.”

That’s what he had said, word for word verbatim. He had watched his best friend’s face crumple, the briefest moment of vulnerability before the mask came back up, hard and determined to hide the way his heart was cracking. But Tooru knew him. He knew when Iwaizumi was holding back tears, eyes green and fierce in their resolve. And he hadn’t said anything, kept his eyes cold and stared hard past his best friend’s pained eyes, his gritted teeth.

“Okay, Tooru.” Iwaizumi had said, real quiet, not holding eye contact. Jaw set. “I understand. I won’t push it.”

“Thanks.” Oikawa had said, barely a whisper but somehow so cold. 

His best friend had nodded, one short, curt movement. “No problem, Oikawa.” And then Iwaizumi had stood and walked out swiftly, without a second thought, like a story closed, like an ending set firmly in steel and stone and everything permanent in the world.

He was thinking about it again. Shit.

Tooru glanced down at his fingers, slender and pale and wrapped around his café lagrima, nails that had once been manicured to perfection chewed down to nubs, cuticles red and chapped. His misery was nonsensical. It was a beautiful day; the faint sea breeze drifting into the cafe, sun bright and hot along the white-sand beaches, palm trees swaying in the wind. It was picturesque. His entire life was perfect, a dream; he was the starting setter for the Argentinian National team. He had trained under José Blanco; he was the starting setter of every team he played on; he was going to the Olympics, for god’s sake. But here he was, moping in the vague direction of his coffee. Thinking about… well… goddammit.

“I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner. And you’re the absolute best setter.”

I know, Tooru thought miserably. Glared at his fingers that he had been chewing, picking to shreds. His usually perfect setter fingers. Cut it out, he admonished himself, and felt his stomach sink as he realized that was the kind of thing Iwaizumi would say. His brain drifted back to it again– his best friend’s eyes as he told him, a declaration so full of conviction it could almost convince him he was good enough: I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner. Iwaizumi’s eyes were so green, so beautiful in his memory– his brows were sharp and dark and slanted down with determination, his cheeks flushed and sore from crying, his mouth screwing into a smile so full of an adoration Oikawa didn’t know how to find on his own. Was sure he could never deserve. 

It had been later that day. His best friend had set his jaw and cupped the setter’s face and told him, voice gruff and hoarse and maybe the littlest bit shy, I love you. And Tooru had kissed him, at first careful and nervous, and then firm, hard, sure– you’re the one I want– I don’t want anyone but you, Hajime, I don’t love anyone like I love you, Hajime– and the rest had been history. Until it wasn’t, and Iwaizumi was pushing past him, walking away, newly single and lost after years of being with his best friend, after a whole life spent loving him. The moment had been the end, a clean break that would surely never heal; one day he had been there, and the next he had not.

It was all Tooru’s fault, anyway. He had been the one to have doubts. He had been the one to tell Iwaizumi it would never work out. That they were too far apart. That Iwaizumi deserved to be loved by someone close, someone who really could. His best friend had really loved him. Had begged him to stay. And Tooru had stuck to his guns, stubborn, hard, until he had forced Iwaizumi to walk away.

Tooru thought about that for a while. The way Iwaizumi had pleaded with him. Reasoned with him. Said I love you ten thousand times like it could change the stupid fact that their relationship didn’t make sense. He stared at his coffee and didn’t drink it. Once the thought had crossed his mind, he couldn’t put it back. Couldn’t quiet it. It was his mistake. He would have to be the one to fix it. Please, god, let this be fixable.

Texting him would be too casual. Calling wouldn’t be enough. Tooru booked a plane ticket to Tokyo.

______

He had forgotten what it would feel like to be in Japan.

Everything had been strange. Foreign, uncanny. When he had shown his Argentinian passport at the airport, because he wasn’t a citizen anymore. Didn’t belong. Speaking Japanese had been uncomfortable on his tongue, random words like mirror or ticket slipping his mind. He felt alien, especially in Tokyo, a city that he’d only been to a few times. But Oikawa pushed through the awkwardness; he was a man on a reconnaissance mission, a reclamation mission, a how-to-find-your-best-friend-you-fell-in-love-with-after-almost-a-year-of-falling-apart mission.

He had gotten his intel from Hinata. Iwaizumi never posted on his Instagram, so Tooru had been forced to call upon the shrimp– who he was much closer to, after Hinata’s beach volleyball training in Brazil– and the spiker had let him know that Iwaizumi was living in Tokyo, having briefly acted as stand-in athletic trainer for the MSBY Black Jackals, and probably was working somewhere else in the area. Tooru had hunted for him on Facebook, too, hoping to find a professional page that would list where he worked– but it had been entirely unspecific, like his best friend had disappeared off the face of the earth. He had also asked Hanamaki, who had been entirely unhelpful and kept pressing as to why he was looking for Iwaizumi, anyway, until Tooru hung up.

Oikawa wandered around Tokyo and let the memories float around in his mind. His Iwa-chan had always loved agedashi tofu. He wondered if he still did. He remembered them, learning volleyball together, fighting together in middle school, at the Inter-High later, always striving, believing in one another. He remembered secret kisses and touches shared through the last of that senior year summer– long hours spent on Skype while Iwaizumi attended university in California and Oikawa training in Buenos Aires, the time zone making it hard but never impossible to love one another, no matter how far; and then Iwaizumi moving back to Japan to become an athletic trainer, a full 12 hour time distance, calls becoming infrequent, visits too short and sparse, until eventually, Oikawa had sat him down and said those four fatal words:

“This will never work.”

Tooru gritted his teeth at the memory. He had to find his Iwa-chan, his Hajime. Did it matter, now? He was sure. He couldn’t live without him.

The time apart had been melancholy incarnate. Everything he had ever wanted, at his fingertips, in his hands, easy and reachable or achieved, and yet, it had not been enough. He had longed for his best friend. His lover. His anything, everything. Did it matter if Iwaizumi didn’t want to be his boyfriend again? They were partners. They had to be together. If Oikawa had believed in the red string of fate, it would be with utmost certainty there, tying him to Hajime all his life, always pulling him back into his best friend’s orbit. They belonged in the same world, he was sure of it. He was less sure things could go back to normal, but he had to try. His best friend deserved someone who would try for him.

It wasn’t late when Oikawa finally crashed out in a hole in the wall ramen shop, but he was so tired, and so jetlagged from the 12 hour time distance. His search could continue tomorrow. Iwaizumi was probably asleep, anyway.

______

“Shittykawa, why the fuck are you here? Get up.”

A dream. He was dreaming of his Iwa-chan. It felt so real, like he could reach out and touch him, his beautiful boy in front of him, angrily shouting, shaking him roughly. The setter felt a twinge of annoyance. If he could have him in a dream, he’d prefer it not be like this.

“...my dream, Iwa-chan…” he mumbled. “Mean… my dream? Do what I want…”

“You’re not fucking dreaming, stupid. Wake the fuck up.” Iwaizumi said roughly, harshly.

Fuck.

“Iwa– Iwa-chan!” Tooru shot up, eyes wide. He recognized the scenery now as he slowly came to; he had fallen asleep in the middle of dinner hour at the ramen shop, collapsed down onto the counter. Tokyo was cold, so much colder than Buenos Aires, and goosebumps were raised all along his tan skin. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s not even 9pm, Shittykawa. Get up.”

The nickname made it seem like everything was normal, fine. But the tone of Iwaizumi’s voice was new, cold, unreadable– foreign. It struck Tooru that he might not know his best friend anymore. That they might be alien to each other now, that a year might be too big of a rift to patch. So he was quiet, the silence uncomfortable and omnipresent when it had once been okay because they were together, and Iwaizumi dragged him behind him through late Tokyo evening, the city lighting up in a thousand colors that were dazzling and too bright all at once. Iwaizumi continued to drag him, up six flights of stairs wordlessly, angrily, cursing to himself as he struggled with the key to his blue-doored apartment, and shoved Oikawa inside before shutting the door behind them.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” The spiker shouted, and only then could Tooru see the anxiety, the fear in his best friend’s eyes. “Why the hell are you here, anyway? And you didn’t even fucking– fuck, Oikawa, what the fuck?”

What the hell could he do in this situation? Iwaizumi continued, pacing, ranting in the small of his barren apartment, shouting obscenities that were never quite aimed at Tooru and always hit the walls instead. The setter felt himself tear up. Even now, Iwaizumi didn’t want to hurt him. Didn’t want to shout at him, because he knew Oikawa would crumple. 

“Why the hell didn’t you even–” Iwaizumi quieted, green eyes dropping to stare at the setter’s sneakers, face deadpan, voice hollow and hesitant. “Why didn’t you even tell me you were coming?”

“Iwa.” Oikawa whispered.

“I still would’ve cared to know you were coming, even after… everything.” Iwaizumi’s voice cracked, unwilling to look in Tooru’s eyes, intentionally looking anywhere else. Staring at his hands, his knees, the floor. 

“Iwaizumi–”

“Don’t.” The spiker held up one hand, voice and eyes so tired, like he hadn’t slept in the year since Oikawa had left him. “It’s fine. Just crash over and leave tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Tooru got out as his best friend stalked off to another room. This was not how he had envisioned it. He had imagined finding Iwaizumi sunlit and tan and healthy, and run into his arms, crying and apologizing and pleading, and his best friend murmuring quiet into his perfect and silky hair, I still love you, I still love you, it’s okay, I waited for you, I love you, Tooru. His vision had, of course, had a few flexible elements– but he certainly hadn’t prepared for this. Looking stupid. Ugly. Pale and cold and miserable with chapped lips asleep in a ramen shop on the street, hair mussed, eyebags probably huge and swollen and blue from jetlag– and Iwaizumi yelling, cursing, and Oikawa being unable to tell him why he had come, a glassy marble stopping up his throat like he was a bottle of ramune.

Fuck. Fuck. Tooru had not come all the way to Tokyo to sleep on Iwaizumi’s stupid couch and leave early the next morning and go on with his life. The setter pulled himself to his feet with the same determination he always approached everything with. Hit it until it breaks. Keep trying until you can’t anymore. He padded across to the door Iwaizumi had left through, socks quiet in the dark apartment, and opened the door as carefully as he could.

“Iwa-chan?”

And– shit. He felt his heart drop like a stone onto the floor. Iwaizumi was crying, duvet pulled up over his head, spiky hair shaking, arms tense and twitching as he clung to a pillow, shivering. He looked so vulnerable. So weak. Tooru hadn’t seen him like this in so long and felt a rush of affection hand in hand with horror through every bone. “Iwa-ch– Hajime.” He whispered brokenly.

“What the hell do you want?” Iwaizumi asked, eyes red and puffy as he sat up, pushing the duvet aside. He still couldn’t hold eye contact. “Just go back to bed, Oikawa, you can get to whatever it is you’re here for in the morning.”

Oh. “I’m–” Tooru swallowed his pride. It tasted lonely and caught in his throat. “I’m here for you.”

“What?” Iwaizumi finally met his gaze, eyes wide, confused more than anything. “What? Why?”

“I came because–” Oikawa felt the tears that had been brimming spill over, uncontrollable now as they ran down his cheeks, voice shaking, hands clenched in fists. “I came because I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid, Hajime, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m sorry–” He pushed down a sob as best he could– “I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I fucking love you, Hajime, I love you more than anything in the world. And I don’t care– I don’t care if you don’t want me, you’re my best friend and my partner and I don’t want anything in the world if I can’t have you–”

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi said quietly.

“It’s not living without you, Hajime, I love you, I love you, I love you, I’m so sorry.” He got out brokenly, staring at his socks and the aliens patterned on them blurring through his eyes too tearful to quite see properly, and all of a sudden warm arms, bare and muscular and so, so familiar were wrapped all around him, holding the pieces of him together like they had always been.

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi breathed, soft and relieved, into the setter’s shoulder. “I love you, too.”

The crying was ugly now, snotty with big sobs and hiccups. “You– you do? I’m sorry, Iwa-chan, I don’t deserve you–”

“God, you’re stupid.” Hajime smiled, brushing Tooru’s hair back, wiping his tears away with his thumb. His every movement was so certain. It was something Oikawa had always loved about him– his stability, determination, his ability to be so sure about him every time.

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” Iwaizumi snickered. “Your personality is really shitty, you know. I don’t know if I can forgive you.” Tooru’s sobs doubled in intensity, snot dripping all over his best friend’s bare shoulders, and he was vaguely aware of how unpleasant it must be for Hajime as he bawled out disjointed apologies.

“Okay, too soon. I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi murmured, planting the softest kiss to Tooru’s shoulder as he held him and rocked him in the dark of his apartment.

“I don’t deserve you, Hajime.” Oikawa sniffled as Iwaizumi pulled him towards the bed and sat him down, cradling him.

“I know.” Iwaizumi chuckled softly, burying his head in his best friend’s hair. “Did you get off the plane today?”

“I did.” Tooru whispered. “I’m ugly, Iwa-chan.”

“I think you’re the prettiest.” Iwaizumi whispered.

“Can I–” The setter swallowed hard, throat and stomach all tied in knots. “Can I have you back, please? I’m sorry if–”

“You always had me.” The shorter boy murmured, lips pressing to Oikawa’s cheek. “And I’m still so, so mad at you. But I love you. Even though you’re stupid.”

“I love you.” Tooru whispered.

“I love you, too, stupid.” Hajime whispered, eyes glowing determined and so, so full of joy. “We’ll figure this out. I know we will. I want you no matter where you are.”

“I love you, Iwa-chan. If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll have you forever,” Iwaizumi promised.

______

“...and don’t you ever do that stupid shit again, Shittykawa.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“I love you.”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

[bts-story]

LOVE IS CHAOS

Previous chapters

Chapter 9 - Memories from above

You pulled back the white curtain with a sudden yank, revealing a man in his early twenties. He was lying on one of the hospital beds, several compresses in his mouth, blood-soaked absorbent cotton sticking out of his lips. 

"Hello, I'm Dr. Ito. I'll be taking care of you today," you stated without much will, the weight of the long night of emergencies you had spent written on the dark circles under your eyes. 

The man could not speak, he was lying motionless. He was wearing a black university outfit that was somewhat torn in some places, the collar of his white shirt stained with blood. The glasses over his eyes were cracked, a panicked look through the lenses. One of his sleeves was rolled up where a needle was stuck in it, connected to a morphine bag. There was also a beeper around his finger that monitored his heartbeat. 

You had his file in your hands and as you read the information, you said, "So, Niragi Suguru, is that right?" A grunt was heard, "It says here that you slipped on the subway stairs, and bit your tongue when you fell." Another groan. "Okay, let's look at this together, shall we?" 

The student straightened up on the bed and with a frantic look on his face, he looked at you apprehensively as you pulled on a pair of new latex gloves. You gently removed the cotton pads from his mouth one by one, being careful not to hurt him. 

With a small flashlight, you inspected his mouth. 

There was a lot of blood, his white teeth covered with a scarlet color. His tongue was so swollen that it took up most of the space in his mouth. In the middle there was a huge infected hole, redness all around and in some places the tongue turned white. 

It was very odd, the way the hole had formed, something you didn't think would happen the way he described it. "Are you sure you got that from falling down the stairs? It looks more like a piercing that got infected..." 

The man named Niragi muttered from the back of his throat, which you could understand as an affirmation that what he was saying was true. 

It was hard to believe, and as a doctor, it was crucial to know exactly how a patient had been injured in order to determine how to properly treat them. It was impossible to get a gaping hole like that on a tongue just by running down a flight of stairs. The hole pierced his tongue, like a needle that had forced its way through. 

Brow furrowed, you pulled your hands away from his mouth, seeking the student's frightened gaze. "Excuse me," you sighed in a weary, tired tone, not really buying his shit, "I can't treat you if you're lying to me."

You were tired of all those patients who didn't face their own stupidity. Just last night, a man had come in, his genitals bloody, claiming that he had cut himself while shaving. Only to find out that no, it was his dog that had bitten him while he was masturbating. You didn't give a damn about their two-bit stories, you didn't even have time to laugh about them because the workload on your shoulders was so enormous.

From your point of view, it was just a waste of time playing Sherlock Holmes to find out how their nonsense had come true, and less time spent in the shower or in your bed. 

The man on the bed had an angelic face, fine features drawn with care. He had a soft but panicked look, a piercing on his eyebrow that contrasted with the shyness with which he looked at you. He avoided your eyes at all costs, as if the ember in your gaze could burn him to the ground. 

"Hey, I recognize you, though! You were on the train that derailed, right?" You'd seen that same frightened face before, a face you never really would have noticed if not for the way his lips trembled every time you addressed him. 

It wasn't that you were used to being wooed, drunk guys hitting on you while you were sewing their nonsense didn't count, but it wasn't that often that a man would blush so easily just at the sound of your voice. There was that pink tinge to his cheeks as blood began to leak from his lip. 

Niragi shook his head from side to side, waving his hands in protest. This accident had happened about ten days before, and at the memory of that shy head avoiding your gaze, you remembered, "But... I sewed your brow back on, I think. Why did you put a piercing there?" 

Indeed, on closer inspection, you could see the skin of his eyebrow tugged where you'd sewn it back on, as if the stitches had been ripped out deliberately. The piercing wasn't fully healed, you could see it clearly, where the bruised skin was still red. 

You had enough experience, even if it was still short, to know that this kind of injury was often not an accident. You had already seen quite a few patients, and in any case, the emergency room was full of different cases. But this kind of wound was often the result of an intentional action. 

There was a fright in Niragi's eyes as he tried to hide behind a false imposing look. His lips trembled and the blood finally trickled down his chin. The fingers of his hand absentmindedly played with the dead skin around his fingernails, and if you concentrated hard enough, you could surely hear the sound of his heartbeat beating against the bones of his rib cage. 

"You didn't fall down the stairs, did you?" you stated softly, as if the realization had just hit you hard. You understood, and sadly, you completed, "And you weren't on the derailed train either, right?" 

It was still impossible for Niragi to speak, his mouth on fire as his frightened gaze slowly turned into a shameful and demeaning sight. There was no point in lying now as you had unraveled the mystery around his wounds. 

"Who did this to you?" You asked tenaciously, forgetting that he couldn't really talk. "Did you go to the police?" 

It was too much for him all at once. He'd spent so much time hiding his pain and torment from the world, that suddenly being noticed made him lose his nerve. He had only one thing on his mind now: to disappear. He tried to get up from the bed, ready to run away as far as possible, away from his problems and away from the questions you were asking him. 

"Hey whoa, where are you going?" You were trying to hold him back, pushing him back against the bed as he tried to walk past you. 

He was ashamed, so ashamed to be a man who let himself be bullied like that. He wasn't a man, no, anyway, he was a nobody. A worthless piece of shit, just a piece of trash. 

But he had gotten up so fast that his vision wavered, his head carried away in a tornado that spun, spun, spun. Niragi's hands were sweaty and his breath was coming hard into his lungs. The very idea of someone learning what he was going through every day, like a victim to his abusers made him feel as tiny as a speck of salt. 

"Easy, easy," you pushed him against the mattress and Niragi blinked, as if trying to chase away the black dots that obstructed his vision. He hadn't reported it, but the way his mouth was eating him from the inside out was a pain that was very hard to bear. 

The infection was itching, scratching and making his tongue throb unbearably. 

He remained motionless on the mattress then, and looking in the cupboard of the small emergency room, you searched for some mild morphine to inject into his IV. This should be enough to ease his pain for another hour or two, without overdosing him on drugs. 

You picked up a pack of new compresses, wetting them with saline before placing them gently on his swollen tongue. There was also the ointment you were looking for, which you put on the small table next to it to use in a few minutes. You glanced at the monitor that was beeping very softly over his head to check that his vitals were satisfactory enough before turning your attention back to him. 

Niragi had opened his eyes again, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the wall in front of him, as if he had finally accepted the inevitability that he couldn't defend himself. "I... sorry," you apologized after a few minutes in a soft, repentant voice, "It's none of my business, I... I shouldn't have asked you all those questions."

It was kind of embarrassing to have to follow up after an accusation like that. You had been far too intrusive and even if it was just a projection of your good heart that only wanted to help him, he must have been a big enough boy to stand up for himself. You had a mountain of work to do anyway and your job was to care for the patients who came to you. You weren't a cop or a social worker. 

The student didn't say anything, he couldn't talk anyway. But he let himself be treated without moving much, and once you had applied the ointment to his tongue, you gave the instructions that he should not close his mouth while the product was working. This should not have taken more than fifteen minutes, enough time for you to go and see another patient before coming back to see him. 

You had gone to see an old lady in her fifties who had almost torn her finger off with a kitchen knife while cutting her carrots. The skin was split down to the bone, the ligaments and nerves visible as clearwater. All that needed to be done was to change her bandages, which had been soaked with blood for several hours. 

Exactly twenty-two minutes later, you were heading back to Niragi's gurney. The patient from before had taken a little longer, and she kept moaning every time you touched her. She was a little bitch, according to you, and you would have let her know that if she didn't threaten to complain to your superior. A cunt, yes, that was the word. 

"Shit, where did this one go?" The student's bed was empty, the rumpled sheets flipped over on the gurney. There was not a single thing of him left, only the bloody compresses littered the small table set on the side of the bed. 

You turned around to look around, searching with your eyes in the middle of all those mattresses and patients if Niragi was not there. "Irina," you called a little further, your young colleague with very short hair and a white coat who looked up from her own patient, looking annoyed (it was a young boy who was holding his stomach, twisted with pains), "Have you seen the patient in bed 32? He was here fifteen minutes ago..." 

"I don't know, Doctor Tanaka went around the beds earlier, see with him," she replied in an annoyed tone, trying to focus on the child in front of her who was giving her trouble cooperating. 

So you headed to the counter where the nurses were hanging out updating all the patient files. The head doctor, your superior, was leaning against the counter, a forgotten file in his hands as he flirted shamelessly with one of the obviously embarrassed nurses. "Excuse me, doctor, did you see a young student come out of here? He was in bed 32 with an infected tongue wound..." 

The doctor wasn't listening to a word you were saying, too busy giving indecent looks to another nurse who was walking by. You wanted to raise your eyes to the sky so high that they would fall off, but that was risking getting caught in the act for nothing, which would generate a reflection from him that was far too justified for your taste. 

"Doctor Tanaka?" You repeated and the man finally looked at you, looking at you from head to toe as if you were nothing but a piece of dirt on the toe of his shoe. "Have you seen the patient in bed 32? Niragi Suguru?"

"Yeah, the guy wanted to leave so I discharged him." he explained in a weary tone, a smile playing on his lips as he turned his attention back to the nurse. 

"But... We had to keep him at least overnight, his tongue was completely infected and -" 

"Look, doctor... [Y/L/N]," he was looking for your name on your name tag that adored your chest, as if it hadn't been two years since you worked with him, "This is a hospital, not a prison. The guy wanted to leave, I let him go, okay? I think you still have work to do anyway." 

It was an order to end the conversation, you could hear it clearly in the sound of his voice that left no room for an argument. Disappointed and annoyed (he really was the worst asshole in your eyes), you held back a sigh before turning on your heels. 

It wasn't so much the fact that your patient's injury intrigued you, nor how and why it happened to him, but it was your instinct as a doctor that was outraged that you couldn't treat this injury properly. You knew he would have a hard time getting it to heal, and if he didn't treat his tongue right, it could lead to an irreparable fatality. 

"Hey, doctor," the head doctor called over his shoulder as you began to walk away, "next time you question what I'm doing, there will be a sanction. Is that clear?" 

Clear as a bell.

It was no longer your problem. Whatever you thought, Niragi's life was out of your hands and you couldn't legislate any longer on something that didn't concern you. And it should have stayed that way. Yes, you should never have met him a third time, because not only was it far too easy to call it a coincidence, but the way it happened was completely unacceptable.

"You've got a face, old girl, you do need to sleep..." Kana had said exactly one hour and twenty-seven minutes later in the absolutely dingy bar she had chosen to spend the evening. She was a young woman with very long black hair, often styled in braids, with a mole on her upper lip and always wearing make-up for any occasion, whatever it was.

You gave her an annoyed look as you sat down next to her, completely ignoring the way she was gently mocking you. "Yeah, and yet, here I am," you replied because she was the one who insisted that you come for a drink, just one drink, just to relax from the twenty-four hours of being on call that had absolutely wiped you out. It wasn't a bad idea, if only the softness of your mattress didn't seem to scream your name across town.

"Good thing I'm a golden friend and ordered you a lager, no ice, in a tall glass," she recited with a big smile on her face, proud to remember what you liked to sip on to take the edge off. 

With a smile of contentment, you took the drink in your hands and once at your lips, the smell alone was enough to appreciate how this beverage would help you relax your shoulders. 

You drank the beer with one sip, two, then three and finally, in no time, you finished all the liquid that went down your throat as easily as water. "Fuck, take it easy, are you nuts?" Kana commented, incredulous to see your glass empty as you set it back down on the table with a thud. You caught your breath quickly, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your sleeve. It wasn't exactly a very feminine gesture, you could admit, "Was the week really that hard?" 

"You have no idea."

It was a good evening, after all, Kana always had a smile on her lips and the right word to cheer you up. Even if finally, the way she kept trying to push you into the arms of this handsome stranger who had been devouring you with his eyes for the last twenty minutes or so annoyed you slightly. "Come on, just go ahead, don't be such a buzzkill!" 

"No, are you crazy? Look at me, I don't have my hair done, I don't have any makeup on, I just came off a twenty-four hour shift, I look like shit..." you were trying to argue, trying to ignore the dark eyes of this man who wasn't focusing on his own friends anymore but on you. 

"That's right, if he's interested in you now, imagine his face when you come out with it..." she had that laugh in the back of her throat that made you roll your eyes. 

And even though this man with short jet-black hair, pronounced facial structure and muscles visible through the fabric of his shirt, looked absolutely gorgeous (he was surely a very respectable man), you didn't have the courage to accept the advances he was making. 

"A Sex on the Beach from the gentleman over there," a waiter was coming to bring you a red colored cocktail, with a straw and a cut pineapple on the edge of the glass. Kana's penetrating gaze insisted that you were far too much of a killjoy for her taste. Meeting the man's gaze nonetheless, he raised his glass in a gesture of cheers, before sipping his own drink. 

"Honestly, you need to chill out, and there's a beautiful fucking stud right there to send you over the edge. What are you waiting for?" Kana was seriously insisting, and it's true that a good little one-night stand could bring you down in a way that alcohol couldn't. 

But no, not then, not now. Not tonight. 

"And you, you need to get off my back," you'd reply wearily, praying that she'd finally decide to move on. She still had that smile that made it impossible to be angry with her. You knew it was only her job as your best friend that made her like that, like a guardian who had to make sure your sex life didn't lose its importance. 

"Are you crazy? No way," she echoed, laughing out loud, looking proud and petty. 

You squinted at her, pushing the offered drink away in disgust, "I don't drink vodka anyway, so..." 

Even though she didn't say anything, you knew Kana wasn't done with you. When she had something on her mind, it was very rare to succeed in changing her mind. And tonight she had decided that sooner or later she would get you to fuck a guy. It was all the more tiring to have to deal with her when you were so exhausted that you needed at least a dozen hours of sleep.

"You don't know what you're losing," she said as she took a sip of the drink, offering a nod of thanks to the guy who was chasing you from afar. You stood up, grabbing your coat and pulling it over your shoulders, your bag in your hand, "I'm not done with you, [Y/N]. You're going to give in, sooner or later." 

You nodded so as not to contradict her. You didn't have the courage to argue about anything anymore, so you had to go home quickly. "Bye," you sang to ignore her accusing look, waving your hand in goodbye. 

"Love you, bye," Kana called as you walked further and further away from the table. 

You pushed your way through the crowd at the bar, trying to make your way to the exit. The trip home was not supposed to be more than ten minutes, but the sight of the pouring rain that was suddenly raging over the city of Tokyo made you swear under your breath. Your shoes were way too thin to keep them from getting wet, you didn't have an umbrella because the weatherman hadn't really predicted this nightly downpour (or maybe he had, but you wouldn't admit that you hadn't looked at the day's weather forecast for a few days already), and to top it all off, you didn't have a single penny in your pocket to take a bus and avoid this walk. 

"Hey, wait," you'd hear far behind you as you took only about ten steps up the street. Behind you, the handsome stallion from the bar was running with small steps to catch up with you, a smile on the corner of his lips, "'Hi,'" he chuckled as he reached your level.

Unconsciously, you sighed. You already knew what he was going to say or ask before he did. Not that you had developed a mind-reading superpower, but you didn't have to be Einstein to deduce why. 

"I... my name is Kenji, I have..." It seemed that in the end, he himself didn't know what he wanted to say. He scratched the back of his head absentmindedly, and he could hardly sustain your insistent gaze as you watched him intently. His voice was deep, and he towered over you by at least twenty inches, as if he had giant genes coursing through his veins. "I couldn't help but notice you in the bar earlier and..." Yeah, okay, so what? "I wanted to know if it was possible to get your number..."

A group of friends walked by you, their laughter loud and clear. You were embarrassed that you had to turn him down like that, if only he hadn't had the courage to run after you. "I'm sorry, I have to go home..."

It wasn't really a refusal, or just a way to get around a flat no to justify that in any case, he wouldn't get what he asked for. You turned on your heels quickly, resuming your walk and hoping that he would let it go. 

"Please," he called behind you and you continued to walk away. "Can I at least get your name?" 

It wouldn't have been unpleasant to be chased like that if only it were another day, another time. But fatigue was clouding your brain and preventing you from giving any information to this man who surely deserved a tiny chance. 

"Wait, I just wanted to - Argh, what the - Argh!" He shouted behind you suddenly and with a jump you turned around to see what was going on. This man named Kenji was on the ground on all fours, head down against the ground. Next to him was another man, a little shorter than him, with hair plastered against his cheeks that stuck out of his hood, a black hoodie and in his hand, a gray box that he was clutching with all his might. 

It was him. The patient from this morning with the infected tongue, standing in front of his victim, taser still activated as he looked at you with round eyes. "Oh my God," you exclaimed as you rushed over to Kenji, helping him up. "Is everything all right?" you asked but the man couldn't articulate a single word, shocked and immobilized with pain. 

Niragi stood frozen in place, as if he himself could not believe what he had just done. He took a step backwards, then a second one and finally, taking his legs to his neck, he ran down the street with all his strength and disappeared in the distance. 

"Who the fuck was that freak?" Kenji articulated with difficulty, trying to stand on his two legs that were still shaking from the shock. 

Searching in the distance for Niragi's silhouette, you didn't have the words to give an answer to the question. Even though you knew the identity of the aggressor, you wondered how all this could have happened. What was he doing there? Why had he done this? Where had he been? How did he get there? 

What made Niragi Suguru attack a man who was just talking to you?

//////// / / / / //////// / / ///// ///

Let's take this back a few years and admire how insecure Niragi was before being his now-self; kinda cute though no?

I hate ending chapters like, I never know how to do this shit -sighs-

Nageoire