#i just briefly skimmed the following part | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

netherfeildren · 1 year ago

Text

My Whole Life : A Fear of God Story

(Joel Miller x OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary: The family celebrates Joel's birthday.

Content Warnings: Fluff and smut (like the fluffiest fluff ever); Miller Family Fun; Joel being overrun by wild little girls; Dirty old man & inappropriate groping; Established relationship; Joel Miller is a Wife Guy; Competence kink; Breastfeeding; Lactation kink; Oral sex (M! & F! receiving); Come eating; Pregnancy kink; Size difference; Daddy kink; Possessive behavior; PIV sex; Ass play; Romantic anal :) ; Body worship; Dirty talk; Pussy slapping; Over stimulation

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Happy happy happy birthday to our bestest and most beautiful old man. This might just be some of the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever written, and it’s all for him :)

Word Count: 9.8K

Read on AO3

MY WHOLE LIFE

And you’ll always love me, won’t you?

Yes.

And the rain won’t make a difference?

No.

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms

He’s still asleep. Laying on his side, bent elbow tucked beneath his smushed cheek, messy curls strewn across his pillow, overly long and floppy against his forehead. It’s time for a haircut, but he’s been distracted and busy lately, evading your managing fingers and scissors. The quilt is pulled up high over a thick shoulder, and that soft, full mouth is slightly parted, the near silent whistle of his breathing passing through each exhale. You close your eyes and listen for a moment. When you open again, you reach up to run the tip of your finger along the damp edge, and he puckers his lips slightly, mouthing at your exploration. Ah, awake then. You lean forward to press your mouth to his briefly, taking his breath into yourself.

Tell me you love me, you whisper the words onto his tongue.

“I love you, Birdie,” voice like falling stones; graveled, sluicing into your ears, eternally familiar. An everyday thing that’s a small miracle each time it’s whispered into the small shell.

“Happy Birthday, Joel.” And he finally opens his eyes, long lashes squeezing tight and spiky for a second before he blinks open, bleary with sleep. His half smile unfolds for you, slow and lazy, the lines around his eyes going deep and grooved, and your fingertips skim over the whiskered plane of his cheek, feeling the proof of his happiness around his eyes. Pulling his hand from beneath his cheek he reaches for you, skims the back of his hand down the front of your belly, undoing the buttons of his old, worn to softness flannel as he goes. Backs of his knuckles following again, skimming down the soft swell, dipping into your navel, and then sneaking around your waist to pull you into himself. Belly to belly he sighs deep and rumbly, closes his eyes again, nods his head just a smidge, settling back into the pillow. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You know that if he could skip this day every year, he would. Sleep through the whole thing of it, erase it from history. You know that it’s endlessly painful, eternally terrible, and that even after almost three decades it never hurts any less. Five years now, you’ve been married, and you’ve tried to make every year as special as possible. Not necessarily peaceful, an unachievable thing in a house full of four loud and scrambling little girls, but always special, always infused with as much happiness as you can give him.

The sallow purple light from early dawn seeps in through the sheer blue curtains over the wide bay window of your bedroom, and as he presses you to him, the course hair of his chest and belly rubs against the skin of your own stomach, your overly sensitive breasts, full and extra tender from nursing. You’d made his gift extra special last year, your last baby, little Connie, now nearing six months old.

“Another one?”

“Well, baby, that’s what happens when your husband can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs, head falling back on his neck as he runs his palm over his mouth, two fingers tucked into his belt. Dad pose.

“We’re getting a nanny, Joel. Someone to help us – you go out there and find anyone, I don’t care who. There’s too many of them, we’re being overtaken. And we can’t keep asking Ellie and Dina – they’ve got JJ now, they’re busy too. You’ve saddled us with a whole kindergarten here because you can’t seem to stop getting me pregnant,” voice hitching with equal measures of anxiety and happiness, and an overabundance of hormones and love.

He sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you tight to his chest, one of his hands coming up to squeeze your full, heavy breasts gently, you gasp, extra sensitive already. He coos right into the soft shell of your ear, “Poor Birdie. S’just so fun makin’ ‘em baby. Can’t help myself.”

You roll your eyes at him even though he can’t see, and you kind of want to claw at his face and rip all his clothes off, all at the same time. This is all his fault. All of your sense gone out the window, can’t get pregnant while you’re breastfeeding, as if you didn’t know better. Too desperate for your husband to be more careful. And now look at the two of you…

Your ass perks up, grinds back into his already growing erection, fucking beautiful, he murmurs with his forehead resting on your shoulder to look down at you, palming your ass. His hands sweep over you in an arc, skimming the soft dips and contours of your skin.

Then shyly, head tuning over your shoulder to press your temple to his forehead, “Are you happy?” Because you still just need to make sure, you still just need to hear it.

“You’ve never given me the option to be anything else but, my love.”

He’d gotten up in the middle of the night when he’d heard her fussing, bringing the baby to you still half asleep, cuddling her tiny, pink form against his naked chest, so that you could nurse her back to sleep. He’d sat at the edge of the bed, big hand cupped at the back of your skull as he’d looked down on you feeding his child from your breast, the look in his eyes like nothing you’d ever imagined before him. The birth of your children had infused a sense of tenderness, an intimacy so acute it brought tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much, into your relationship that had made the two of you closer than ever. More in love with each other than you’d ever thought possible.

The memory of your parents was worn and faded with time, but you remembered they’d always approached each other with a sort of comfortable respect. Never ones for overt displays of affection or physical intimacy. So you’d never expected that the love of a man like Joel Miller, stoic and reserved and brusque, could be like this; an overwhelming sort of thing, scalding and suffocating in a way you needed.

His hand skims back to your chest, undoing the rest of your buttons to get at the warmth of your breasts, rough palm gently, gently cupping the full weight. The dry abrasion of calluses catching at your sensitive nipples, handling you with such care. A low rumble in his throat, eyes still closed, “Gimme another kiss, little bird. It’s my birthday,” he whispers before sliding forward, taking your mouth with his. He starts off slow, a soft brush of damp lips, before he takes your upper lip between his, pulling gently, his hand moving back and down now, cupping your lush bottom to pull you up and into himself. Your hands flutter over his chest, still after all this time, easily overwhelmed by the heat and feel of him. You never want it to end, you never want it to lessen.

The sex is still filthy, but everything else is pure.

You can feel the hardening heft of his cock under his boxers between the two of you, and you skim your hand down the length of his soft belly, fingers tucking beneath the elastic to run the backs of your knuckles against the burning hot skin there, feel the tickle of his hair. He makes another one of those deep sounds, warm and masculine and smelling faintly musky from sleep, and you bring your knee up against his hip, pushing further into his boxers to feel the rapidly thickening base of his cock against the back of your hand, you brush the pad of your thumb there and his kiss becomes hungrier. Bringing his palm to the nape of your neck he rolls the two of you over suddenly, trying to take charge, licking deep and wet into your mouth, pressing his now full-on erection into your cupping palm. “Taste so good, Birdie. Is my little cunt wet and ready for me?”

“Joel–” you whisper, drawing your hand up to his shoulder to try and keep him at bay. His wet mouth moves down to your throat, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, settling more heavily between your spread thighs to grind his cock into your warmth. “We can’t,” you moan as his hot mouth pulls gently at your tit now, nipples dark and swollen. It’s been several hours since you’d nursed, and you feel the warmth of your milk as his tongue swirls around you. He groans, rough and hungry at the taste, bringing his knee up to lever himself over you, readying to rip your clothes off and take your cunt for himself, but as he moves to balance himself on one arm and knee while his other hand reaches for your panties, you press him off balance, dislodging him and rolling over as he goes, so that you’re left straddling the wide breadth of him. His eyes flash, provoked, and he jerks you forward, ripping the flannel off your shoulders so that your breasts are left bare and swinging heavily. With a rough grunt he bends his knees, shoving you up further on his stomach to wrap a big hand around your tit and bring it to his mouth. Mine, he growls, with your flesh in his mouth. He pulls on the taut peak again, another warm rush of your milk, his eyes locked on yours as he sucks from your nipple. It should be wrong, maybe it is, but like you’d said, the sex is still filthy, everything else is pure.

“We can’t,” you whisper, carding your fingers through the long locks of his messy curls, the strands cool and soft at the ends, but hot and damp at the roots. You can feel your pulse thrumming at your throat, the insides of your wrists, the back of your knees. The slide of your wet cunt against his abdomen has the heat between the both of you ricocheting up to a sweltering dampness, and despite your protests, you moan as his hands roll you against him. “They’ll be up soon and banging on that door, you know it. Ellie and Dina can only hold them off for so long.” The girls had spent the night, not only so they could be here for birthday breakfast, but so that the two of you could spend a few extra peaceful moments in bed without three raucous monsters climbing in with you.

“Don’t care – need you now.” He levers his head up off the pillow, following the swing of your breast until he can catch it with his mouth, teeth gently scraping across the bud. Joel, you whimper, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. He makes a self satisfied noise low in his throat, crushing you to himself and sucking hard on your skin, pulling a strangled moan from your throat. Trying to pull away, grabbing his marauding hands, you try to pin him down with your entire weight, small fingers clasping around the thick of his wrists and pressing them back into the pillows. The two of you pause to take each other in for a second, I love you, he mouths up at you, silent, eyes on fire. You can’t help the deep flush, trying to swallow your smile and shake your head at him in mock disapproval, pinning him harder. “That isn’t gonna work, little thing. Got the strength of a butterfly.”

“Shut up.” You lean forward, pressing your mouth to the thick bulge of his bicep, dragging your teeth across the swell. “You’re mine – I do what I want.” He gives you a soft, conceding laugh, and you press kisses along his shoulder, across his collarbone, letting the long tresses of your hair snake like water over his face, his chest, his stomach. Scooting down his belly to nuzzle at the springy hair covering his chest, little tongue darting out against his nipple, smiling at the sound of his soft gasp. Further, further down, kisses to his soft belly, thicker around the middle now, sympathy weight, he calls it. But he’s so strong, and so endless, and you need him so much. You wiggle between his legs, forcing him to spread his thick thighs to make space for you and nip at the sensitive inner slope there. Nuzzling his hairy limbs, you pause to look up at him, cheek resting there, feeling the restrained strength of his muscles. The two of you go quiet for a second, taking each other in, and there’s so much said in his gaze. He brings his hand to the crown of your head, cupping the small bowl of your skull in his palm, and smiles a little, a teasing crook of his eyebrow, and you can’t help but laugh, turning your face to hide your own smile in his thigh.

“What’cha gonna do, baby?” Hmm, he croons down at you, sliding his fingers through your hair. You sneak your fingers below the waistband of his boxers again, tugging them down to free the straining, thick cock and heavy balls. You press a barely there kiss to the skin just beside the base and watch as his length jumps, flushed head starting to leak. You give him another wry look, and he runs his fingers along the line of your jaw, up the slope of your cheek bone, hot touch following the wing of your brow. It’s all soft caresses and the sort of comfort that only comes from knowing another person almost better than you know yourself. You finally bend down and press a kiss at the tip, opening your mouth to let your tongue flutter along the soft, spongey curve. He lets out a long, restrained breath through his nostrils, fingers still roaming along your face, through your hair as you start to take him deeper into your mouth, levering yourself up over his groin so that he has a better view of your breasts and hair dragging over his thighs. A desperate groan, and you smile around his cock, you know him too well. You drag the flat of your tongue along the ridged base, a swirl around the fat head, his hand cupped at the nape of your neck. You can feel the pulse and throb of him against your tongue, and you moan around him, fluttering lashes tickling your cheeks, you want to feel that pulse at the core of you, deep where he owns you. “Yeah, baby,” voice soft and strained, trying to swallow the sound of his own pleasure in the hollow quiet of your still sleeping home. “Hum a little song around daddy’s cock, little bird.” And your eyes flash hot and desperate up to his own. A wash of heat spreads from the crown of your head to the tips of your curling toes, backs of your knees smarting, pussy going tight and desperate as a knot. You wrap both hands around the length of him and focus your suctioning mouth at the head, moaning wantonly, twisting your palms around the slick spit left by your tongue.

“Fuck, yes – yes, yes yes. That’s perfect, you’re doing so good, Birdie. Just like that.” He bears his teeth at you, a wash of color spreading across the crests of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. You slide your slick hands down to cup his balls and take him to the back of your throat, moaning ragged and choked around the too thick length, swallowing repeatedly, trying to breathe through your nose, eyes smarting and thighs clenching. His fingers twist in your hair painfully, and he swells almost impossibly bigger in your mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, baby. Don’t swallow, don’t swallow.” He hasn’t stopped looking at you, eyes wide and frenzied. You pull back, squeezing his sack as he starts to spurt, thick and salty into your mouth. “Don’t swallow, lemme see. Gimme my birthday present, show me–” You pull away from his soaked cock, mouth sticky with semen, and present your tongue for him, the milky viscousness dripping sloppy while you continue to jack his still spitting length. He sits up suddenly, cock still fisted in your working hand to grip your jaw in his strong fingers. His eyes are filled with a sort of mania only you know how to bring out in him now that he’s been mostly tamed, and you bring your other hand up to your face, scooping the spurted drops of come on your cheeks onto your white splattered tongue. “Perfect fucking thing,” he growls. “You do what I say,” he gives your captured jaw a rough, little jostle. “Swallow now.” You close your mouth and obey, “Open again – lemme see,” sticking your now pink tongue out at him, he leans forward and licks into you, tasting himself. Filthy, filthy, filthy. I fucking love you, you can’t tell who says it, it doesn’t really matter.

The farmhouse is a short ways outside of Jackson. He’d picked it after Lena was born, Kate and Clara had been two, and Connie would soon be on the way. The family needed more space, four children was a lot to manage, and he wanted his girls to have room to grow and play. You’d let him do as he pleased, and made the trek into the clinic every afternoon at first, but had taken on a partner two years ago, Jamie. She’d come to Jackson with her own medical background, and with four babies at home, the help was more than welcome.

The house is old, but made of strong bones that Joel had painstakingly refurbished and now cared for meticulously. Filled with sturdy furniture he’d mostly made by hand, thick rugs and soft glowing lamps and books, books everywhere. And something else, something unknowable and invisible, but that was immediately obvious, nonetheless. A sort of love that was in such overabundance; it was an unbelievable sort of thing that a creature that had lived as he had could have ended up here, surrounded by all this goodness. Joel knows it is only because of you, all only your doing, his ending up here like this.

As you step into the large dining and living space you stop abruptly, his chest bumping into your back, hands going to your hips to steady you. Your head cocks slowly to the side as you take in the new addition to the kitchen. “What’s that?”

He presses his face into the warm, fragrant skin of your neck, smiling against the tender slope. “Made it for you.” It’s a kitchen table, long and thickly built, the warm oak color polished and cured to a glowing sheen. He’d snuck it in from the barn last night after you’d gone to sleep.

“It’s your birthday, you’re not supposed to be giving me gifts today.” He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand spanning across the soft swell of your postpartum belly. The change your carrying his children had wrought on your body was something that he’d not known would have such an effect of him. But the sight of you most days, wearing nothing but one of his oversized flannels, and his favorite itty bitty, pink, polka dotted panties. Swollen, leaking tits and the lush softness of your belly and hips underneath. Long hair, a tousled mess of a cloud around your head. Too fucking tempting. It brought out something not entirely civilized in him. How was he ever supposed to behave when you were prancing around your home together, surrounded by all your children, being the best mother the world had ever seen. Sometimes the urge to get you pregnant just one more time was almost irresistible. Soft and feminine and his, it did things to him, made him think unspeakable thoughts that he later acted out on you in explicit detail at night, in the privacy of your bedroom. Things had changed after the birth of your children, he had changed, in so many ways, in ways that Joel had never even thought possible. The intimacy, the closeness was something that he’d never even thought possible, something so vulnerable, so tender, his mind hadn’t had the capacity before this to imagine it. He’d never thought, never thought that he could love with an intensity like this, but you’d taught him so many things over the years. You taught him something new every single day.

“It’s for me too,” he murmurs. “And giving you things makes me happy. Seein’ you happy makes me happy. This is my gift to myself.”

You’re quiet for a second, and he feels you tense and hiccup beneath his touch, trying not to cry. Finally, when you’re sure your voice won’t break, “Don’t be cheesy, old man.” But you turn in his arms, going up on your little toes to press your mouth to his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He sighs into the kiss, tasting you slowly, savoring you, feels himself thickening again already, just at the feel and smell of you. When he pulls back to look down at you, sure enough, your eyes are wet and gleaming, a soft flush across your nose. “Thank you, I love it,” A small sniffle.

“Get in there,” he says gently. “Stop provokin’ me.” He gives your bottom a gentle squeeze before letting go.

After he helps you get the girls up and settled, he goes on a long walk with Ellie and Kate, leaving you and Dina to hold down the fort for a while. Sydney, panting along Kate’s gangly, coltish side as they lope ahead of him and Ellie. The old Newfoundland had shown up one day on the front porch, mud and bramble slewn, Kate and Clara had brought her in, told them her name was Sydney, and that had been it, the dog had stayed. The hound, covered in a nearly unmanageable chocolate brown mane, had what he called an old disposition, much like him, Birdie liked to tease, but gentle and slow. The perfect animal to patiently accompany the girls along their misadventures, but large and astute enough to herd and protect when necessary. They liked to wander sometimes, disappearing at any moment, hiding and jumping out to scare the two of you in your frantic searches for them. Trouble the two of them, Kate and Clara together. Clara especially, mind sharp as a whip and an inclination for trouble she could have only gotten from him, if he was being honest. Kate was always the cooler, more level headed voice of the two of them, even at five, nearly six, years old. With those deep blue eyes, like shards of sea glass with the very power of the sun shining through. They’d slipped out of the house a few months ago behind his back, and after his mad search he’d found them wandering, hand in hand, towards the treeline. Short legs setting a slow and stunted pace, Sydney had been following closely at their heels, towering over the two small frames. At the sound of his approach, she’d turned back with an aggressive growl, ready to protect the two vulnerable creatures in her charge, but he’d settled her with a gentle, It’s just me, Syd, and the hound had gone tame and sedate once again. He’d trusted her with them unfailingly ever since.

They were meandering slowly along one of his and Ellie’s favorite paths now, slowly, allowing for child and dog to pause and investigate at will, dew-covered spiderwebs, bright tufts of moss and old, rotted logs covered in bugs Kate begged him to let her bring home.

“Mom gets scared. We don’t want that, do we?”

“Mom doesn’t get scared,” Kate says, scrunching her nose up at him.

“It’s secretly him that gets scared, Katie. Don’t let him fool you,” Ellie tells her. They walk for close to an hour in mostly silence, their ritual of sorts, listening to the sound of the woods around them and Kate’s soft voice going on and on at Sydney, while the dog seemingly pays the closest and most attentive regard possible. The quiet walks, something that calls back to their long journeys all those years ago, a way to remind themselves of where they’d been and what they’d come to.

“What do ya think?” She breaks the silence after they’ve turned back toward home and the breakfast waiting for them.

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.”

He shakes his head, watching Kate’s short leap over a puddle, sighs long and deep, “Dunno – so many things. Nice walk–” He gives her a wry look out of the corner of his eye.

They reach the edge of the woods and pause to watch Kate breaking into a run towards the house, Sydney matching her pace. “I think we did good, don’t you?” He knows she means everything, all of it. Lena, three years old, bursts out of the propped open front door of the house, Dina on her heels. “We kinda made it, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, kiddo. We did good.”

“I drew you a birthday picture, Daddy,” Clara tells him.

“C’mere, my angel. Let’s see it.” Sitting around the new kitchen table, he pulls her up into his lap, Lena following suit to scramble up as well.

There are seven figures: you, drawn with long hair that reaches your feet, Kate, Clara, and Lena, respectively, what he assumes is baby Connie drawn as a miniscule figure eight at your feet, something that resembles a tumble-weed more than a dog, poor Syd, and then… someone drawn as a big circle, with an even bigger head on top. “Where’m I, baby?”

“Right there.” She points at the big, round thing, “I made him soft like you, Daddy.” And she pats his belly so affectionately, looking up at him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen, poor Syd – fuck, poor me, he thinks.

“Thanks, baby. I love it.” He squeezes her into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you bent over the kitchen counter trying to strangle yourself in a kitchen towel to muffle the sounds of your hysterical laughter.

After scrambled eggs and hot breads with honey and jam, bacon and fruit and coffee, perfect girl that you are, you’d somehow gotten him a tin of beans as a birthday gift, you bring out what the girls call the pancake cake. A large, wide stack of the fluffiest buttermilk pancakes, all lathered in Dina’s whipped cream, and a mountainous heaping of bright red strawberries. He watches you, a thing akin to awe in his eyes as you set the red and white cloud down in front of him, you’d put on a soft blue dress, robins egg blue, with tiny lace cap sleeves that fluttered with your movements and made his stomach dip and swoop and ache to reach out and toy with them.

“The berries were a gift,” you say with a pleased smile.

“Oh, was it Jeff?” The grocer, Dina asks. “He’s so nice.”

“Who?” Joel frowns.

“Jeff, he works at the market. He–” You pause, a laughing smile playing on your lips. “He wanted me to wish you a happy birthday, baby.” His scowl deepens, your own smile widening.

As soon as the cake’s set in front of him there’s a chubby little hand sneaking forward to stick grubby fingers into the confection. “Lena,” looking down at her, and the hand is immediately snatched back. “Oh, the candles,” you remember as you’re about to take the seat next to him.

“Left them in the back room, with the other stuff I brought,” Dina calls as you head to what’s used as a makeshift laundry room at the back of the house. He gets up quickly, a murmured, I’ll help you look, following you and flicking the door shut behind him, the echoing sound of snickers and Ellie’s hooting, mesmerized by the swish and flow of the blue fabric around your legs, and with a bone to pick.

“You’re not allowed to go to the market anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take Ellie or Dina with you.” He pouts and scowls and fumes behind you as you rifle through the bags they’d brought with them.

“Excuse me?” You say again, voice soft and patient, infused with just a tinge of laughter.

“You want me to say it again?” He steps forward, fingers ghosting through the ends of your long hair, hungry, possessive. “And who gave you permission to talk to other men?” And you snicker, not taking him seriously even a little bit. He wraps his arms around you, pressing you forward to squeeze your tits in his big hands, he’s obsessed, grinding his groin into the soft round of your ass. He drags his hands over the dips and contours of your body, squeezing lush curves as he goes, reaching to wrap around the delicate architecture of your jaw and pull your face around to look at him, taking in the beautiful heart shape of your mouth.

“Joel–” you chastise.

“Five minutes.”

“Behave, they’re gonna–”

“Don’t care. It’s my birthday.” He nuzzles your hair, searching for the small shell of your ear. “Just want a kiss, Birdie bird.”

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” but you turn in his arms anyways, pressing your mouth to his, licking into him before you’ve even fully got the words out. He gropes you, sliding a knee between your thighs to press against your mound and roll you against himself. Cupping the nape of your neck, he eats at you, sliding his tongue along yours. He can hear the desperate sound of his breath rattling in his own chest, and he slides his mouth down the slope of your neck, a soft nip to the tiny pulse there. He groans low in his chest, cock hard and straining against his jeans. “They takin’ them for the night, still?” He asks panting.

“They are,” voice a whimper, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging in frustration. You push him back by the shoulders, laughing gently, as you wiggle out from between his steaming, hard body and the counter. “Come on. Ellie’s gonna give you hell.” He braces his palms against the edge, head hanging trying to will his erection down and catch his breath. Jesus, Birdie.

“Mama, why did Daddy go in there with you?” Clara’s little voice sounds as he steps back out into the kitchen behind you.

“He was helping me–”

“They were making you another baby sister,” Ellie supplies unhelpfully, big fucking grin. Joel drags his thumb across his throat, staring daggers.

“How do they do that?” Kate asks.

Ellie’s mouth opens, readying to worsen the situation, “Ellie–” Joel warns.

Dina, ever the voice of reason, tells them patiently, “They write a letter to a stork, sweet. And then nine months later, he brings a baby.”

The girls are all quiet for a beat, digesting this newfound, eternally fascinating piece of information, until Kate says, in that solemn and level headed way of hers, hands primly set at the edge of the table, “I think the stork has come to our house too many times.”

Ellie cackles uncontrollably, Bridie’s giggle following suit, until the lot of them are caught in a net of laughter. Joel lets his head fall back, thumbs tucked at his belt, letting a long sigh out. “Jesus.”

“Jesus!” A little voice yells out in imitation.

“What is a stork?”

“A bird,” Ellie provides.

“Is that why mama is Birdie? Because she makes the baby come?”

“Yeah, baby. That’s why,” You tell Kate, smoothing a gentle hand over the crown of her bright blonde head. Inquisitive little thing. With your other hand you flick Ellie in the back of the head. Mother fucker, you mouth at her affronted look.

“Father fucker,” she mouths back with a snicker.

Once the candles are securely in the cake and lit, and Clara’s added her ever helpful, Mama, we need one thousand more candles, Daddy is so old, he nudges his head at you. “Come be a good girl, and sit on my lap,” he says quietly. You perch on the strong expanse of his thigh, one arm around the back of his neck, the other coming to entwine with the fingers of his hand at your waist, twisting the gold band of his ring round and round his finger.

The girls sing Happy Birthday, Daddy, at the top of their lungs, and you watch him watch them, the clenching of his jaw, those fine little muscles that wrap around his mandible, fluttering as he grinds his back molars together, the ripple of his throat as he swallows again and again. The corners of his eyes go a little wet, tears lining the edges of those gorgeous hazel eyes as he stares into the flames of his birthday candles while the girls sing to him – off key, off harmony, so full of love. Clara clambers up onto his other knee midway through, plants herself on the endlessly strong surface of her father’s thigh, the safest place in the whole world. “Happy birthday, Daddy. I love you,” she whispers up at him, laying her little head on his shoulder, gazing at him with those same hazel green eyes that reflect his own image back at him, remind him of another little girl he’ll never stop missing, and he brings his hand up to cradle the back of her skull in his large palm, presses his lips to her forehead, love you so much, baby girl, whispered into her skin. Your first baby. His eyes fill further, and they flutter closed, trying to contain all that you know he’s feeling right now. Your hand on the back of his neck strokes softly at the overly long curls, soft and thick. You press your thumb into the notch of his skull, anchor yourself there, I’m here, I’m here, we are here together, look at all we have, and he turns to look at you, his cheek resting on your daughter's head. “Thank you,” he says, and you know that he means for all of it.

Cheering squeals, laughter, and the padding rush of little feet over the floorboards as the rest of them start to run around the table, shrieking fills the air as they scramble over him, trying to climb up as well. He buries his face in your hair and shudders as he presses a tiny kiss to the soft lobe of your ear. Look at all we have. The whole world right here at our kitchen table.

The birthday of a perfectly happy man is spent like this: a long breakfast with the woman of his dreams and all his daughters surrounding, a lazy afternoon, trying to doze on the deep, lumpy couch, intermittently interrupted by a knobby knee and a sharp little elbow to the gut or thigh, lunch and peach cream popsicles on the porch, watching the clouds, searching for shapes like treasures in the deep blue sky.

He thinks of Sarah, as he lays there surrounded by her sisters. The sweet shape of her face, the dove green of her eyes surrounded by the thickest, darkest lashes he’s still ever seen to this day, Lena’s eyes are the exact same shade, the texture of her curly hair beneath his palm. Her memory is faded now, after so long, but he works it like a muscle in his mind every day, a staunch refusal to ever let her go. And no matter how far away he moves from that day, he still asks himself sometimes: How does one grapple with the loss of something that big, something that essential? He’s lived with a hole in his heart in the shape of a little girl for so long, decades, but now, with all of this surrounding him, he also has so many things that leave his heart so full he’s almost bursting with it. The two opposing feelings often leave him feeling bloated and without space within himself, and yet, he always finds another nook or cranny for more. Even when it’s left him tired, when his remembered past hangs over his head so that he feels, sometimes, like his edges are disjointed, not glued together symmetrically, you’re there to put him back to rights.

And the memory will always be painful, it will never not hurt. It’ll never not be agony. But it’s easier now, to recall all the wonderful, all the good. Sometimes, he almost feels afraid of the intensity of this happiness, but in those moments, when that old fear returns you’re able to recognize even that, like everything else in his heart you know as well as your own, and you take him into your arms, reminding him that his whole life is right here in this house now, that you’ve saved him.

“Look at the clouds, Daddy. There’s shapes.”

Sprawled in the lush grass in front of the house, the three girls surrounding him. He presses a kiss to Lena’s soft curls, “Look at that one,” he says, “What d'ya see there?”

“A bunny,” Kate says with all the self assurance of knowing she’s the eldest sister, and thus, the wisest.

“A bunny? You sure?”

“Yes, Daddy. Don’t you see it?” Clara interjects. “He has big ears and funny whiskers just like yours.” Raucous giggles and screeches after that as they jump over and across him, with claims that he needs reminding how a bunny hops and leaps.

Eventually, when they settle, Birdie brings out more cake, leaves the four of you to sit in a huddle criss-cross-apple-sauce and discuss the woes of kindergarten at the school house in town.

“Mama told me I’m not allowed to bite,” Clara gives an exasperated huff, abandoning her cake to melt into the grass and crawl into his lap. “She bites a lot,” Kate adds. Irritated, pushing unruly curls out of her strawberry red face, “But– but I don’t like that Mama said that to me, Daddy,” she continues, looking at him very seriously, “I like to bite so much,” followed by the most conniving smile he’s ever seen, besides Ellie’s, blooming proudly across her angel sweet face. He’s forced to swallow his laugh and explain the merits of listening to her mother, something they must all do. When he turns back to look at Lena, she’s licking the spilled whipped cream out of the grass. They have to go inside for baths after that.

At Kate’s behest, they have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner that night. Tommy, Maria and their son joining the family alongside Nancy, so that the table’s chock full of the people who care about him, all coming together to celebrate one more year of Joel’s life. By the end of the meal, he has all three girls perched on his lap, eating spaghetti off of his plate because, Daddy, it just tastes so much better from yours, obviously. He’s never been able to say no to them, and he isn’t about to start tonight, and you roll your eyes, but you also look at him with that gleam that tells him that if he asked you for another baby tonight, you’d probably not say no. They eat his food and yank on his hair and stab him with pointy sharp elbows in the ribs repeatedly, at one point someone sticks their finger up his nose, pulling his nostrils apart to look inside.

“Daddy, why do you have so many hairs all over?”

“It’s so dark and scary in there, Daddy.”

Clara nods so fast her curls bounce up and down around her head, “I feel scared when I look up there,” green eyes wide.

“What are they for, Daddy?”

Questions volleyed at him so fast he doesn’t have a chance to answer a single one of them. “If you eat spaghetti, will your boogers taste like spaghetti after?” Ellie, ever brilliant and helpful, suggests they try some to verify the theory.

“What is verify?” One asks.

“And what is seery?” Another calls. Birdie’s red in the face with laughter, and Joel feels very tired and very old and very ready to take his wife to bed.

“A theory is when you think about something,” Tommy says, and gives him that look he’s wont to throw his way when he’s about to make fun of Joel for not being able to keep it in his pants and stop procreating.

“And verify is to make sure,” Joel tells them.

“What is to make sure?”

“To know something.”

Kate nods solemnly, while Clara pauses, and then says, “I don’t think I know anything.” That worried sort of look only a five year old can get when an idea is just too big, crossing her little face.

Chuckles sound around the table, “That’s alright, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about it.”

As they say good night, the girls packed and ready to spend the night at Tommy and Maria’s, Ellie and Dina taking baby Connie, Ellie pokes and prods at you.

“Would you quit, you little shit.”

“Dinner was nice, step mommy,” giving you a smarmy little smirk.

“You know, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“It’s serious.”

She cocks an eyebrow at you, “Spit it.”

“Well, I was wondering if you’re going through something right now? If you’re okay?”

“What? What do you mean?” Face twisted in confusion.

You snicker, pulling on the ends of her recently shorn hair, “Then what’s up with the new fuck ass little bob you’ve got going on?” She slaps you away, swatting at your arms, reaching down to get at your thighs too.

“Fuck you, mother fucker,” she laughs, trying to yank on your hair too.

“Stop it. You have to respect me. I’m your step mother, remember?”

“You’re so annoying.” You hear Joel call at the two of you to knock it off, but goes entirely ignored.

“Poor Dina’s gotta look at this mess. Let her know if she ever needs to get away from it, she can come stay here any time she likes.”

“I hate you,” she laughs, and you pull her in for a tight hug, another pinch to your side before she hugs you back.

“Tough shit, I love you.” She squeezes you tight, grumbles a little before returning the sentiment.

“Thank you,” she whispers into your shoulder, “For making him so fuckin’ happy.” You squeeze her tight as you can before she shoves you away, pretending not to sniffle and rolling her eyes at you. “Now stop being so fucking weird and sappy, and say good night to your football team.”

“Blood Meridian again?” You ask him from where you’re standing at the kitchen island, snipping the ends of the flowers Nancy had brought with her and arranging them in a vase. “How many times’ve you read that?” He’s sitting on the sofa, facing you, reading glasses sitting crooked and bent on his nose from where someone’s little foot had crushed the frames. You watch the flicker of his gaze as he peeks at the page number, and then snaps the book shut. He never uses a bookmark, always just remembers.

“Dunno–” big sigh, long stretch, “More than I can count now, I suppose.” He settles back into the couch, pushing his hips forward to slouch deep, tired, spreading his thighs wide, tempting you. You finish with the flowers, walking the vase to take center stage on the new table. At the far end of the table, right by your spot, he’s carved a tiny little sparrow into the surface of the oak. The etching so fine, so delicate, in comparison to the sight of him, big and brusque. It would be almost unbelievable to someone who didn’t know him as you do, who didn’t know the violence he’d endured to make him so gentle, someone who hadn’t watched him pull your newborn daughters from your own body, who hadn’t witnessed the incredible sight of him cradling those tiny little babies in his infinitely strong arms. You turn back to look at him over the hill of your shoulder, taking in the sight of him watching you, appraising your form. The slow rove of his eyes starting at your bare feet, moving up your legs as if his gaze was a physical manifestation of his hands on your skin, over the swell of your bottom, the slope of your spine, the fine crest of your shoulder, landing on your face. You can see his eyes moving over the planes of you, your chin, your mouth, cheeks, your eyes. He lands there, stays. You know he’ll be hard beneath his jeans when you go over to him.

“C’mere – come sit on me,” voice soft and sultry.

“Sit on you?”

“Mhmm, come tell me how much you love me.” He pats his thigh, and you move towards him slowly, shaking your head at him.

“Needy.” You reach him, hitching your knee over his lap to straddle him, and he pulls you close and tight against his warm, wide chest.

“So needy.” He nuzzles into the fine tendrils of hair over your forehead, his breath hot and soft on your skin. “Need ya so much, Birdie.” A soft kiss to your temple, another to the flared end of your eyebrow, and you squirm on his lap, hot and restless and needy also, a fine thrumming ache flaring throughout the various pressure points in your body. Your throat, the inner curves of your elbows, the backs of your knees, deep in the pit of your belly. You feel weak and trembling, and he fills his hand with your hair, bringing it to his face and rubbing the soft curls against his cheek. “It’s time I take you to bed, isn’t it?” You hum against his collarbone, taking in the scent of his skin, fresh and clove-like, cedar sap and sage and Joel, you nod slowly against him.

He runs a bath for the two of you, filling the deep clawfoot tub in the master bathroom. He’d outfitted the house from the get-go with the same system for electricity and water that Jackson ran on. And he pulls your clothes from you slowly, running rough, caressing hands over the sensitive slopes of your curves, gentle pinches and squeezes to the places he likes most which is all of you. When the two of you sink into the tub, he sits between your legs, wide back leaning back on your chest so that you can run your hands along the strong breadth of him. You taste the water off his skin and listen to the sound of him rumble and purr like some sort of overgrown wolf beneath your touch.

“Did Clara tell you what happened at school yesterday?”

“Said you told her no more biting.”

“Did you tell you she punched some poor boy?”

“She did what?” He tenses, long fingers wrapping tightly around the circumference of your ankle in his lap.

“She called one of the boys in her class, and I quote, a little fucker, and then socked him in the nose.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Clara,” he sighs, laying his head back on your shoulder. “Why in the hell did she do that?”

“She’s your daughter.”

He hums as if he can’t bring himself to disagree with the reasoning. “Little fucker probably deserved it.”

“You’re not supposed to call children fuckers, Joel.” He grunts. “She also told him that her dad was going to beat up his dad.”

“Oh my God. I’m too old for this shit.”

“They’re heathens because of you. I hope you know this.”

“They ain’t heathens. They’re perfect.”

“You weren’t saying that last week when they painted your face blue.”

“Jesus, you’re right. Thought it was never comin’ off.” You snort, rolling your eyes at him, but hugging him closer. The best father anyone could ever want for their children, surely. “Gotta teach her how to throw a good punch,” he adds to himself.

You wash each other’s hair after that, taking turns lathering each other up, rinsing out the suds, and when he’s finished with you, he carries you to bed. Lays you out like his own personal feast and tastes you everywhere. The pads of your water-wrinkled toes, the backs of your knees, the crest of each hip bone, cruelly bypassing the place you need him most. Dragging his mouth over your stomach, tongue savoring the silvery streaks left behind by the growth of your daughters inside of you, over your nipples, dark and swollen. His mouth rests at the notch of your throat lightly, and then, whispered against the moist spot he’d made with his tongue, “You’re the only dream I’ve ever had. You know that?” And you tell him that you do, you do know, your husband who is, in his own right, like a dream figure.

Finally, taking pity on you, he slides down between your thighs, making room for the incredible breadth of his shoulders, and gently as possible spreads you apart with his thumbs, takes in the sight of your embarrassingly slick, untouched cunt. He blows a slow stream of cool air over your pulsing clit, and bends his head to lightly drag his tongue over the swollen bundle. And you’re going to cry, real, desperate tears. “Joel, please, don’t be mean.” But he’s never been very good at that.

“Oh, I know,” he tuts, “My poor baby. Been waitin’ all day haven’t you?” He’d purposely not made you come all day. This had been his plan all along, you know it. Another, light as air slip of his tongue, his mouth, sliding down to your leaking opening, mouthing against it, barely there. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the whole world, little bird. You know that?” And he licks your clit for real this time, the broad, flat of it pressing against you in one long, slow swipe. You can’t answer, ragged moan clawing up your throat. You reach for his dark head bent to your sex, one small foot propped against his thick shoulder to anchor yourself as he starts to eat you. Sucking hard and fast on your poor, throbbing clit, moving down to spear the strong muscle of his tongue into your pussy. You want more, you want his cock, you want it, you want it, you want it. He sucks the orgasm out of you, lapping and kissing at your cunt until you’re shuddering and shivering, clenching around that terrible, painful emptiness, leaking onto his tongue, and then surging up quickly. Massive fist around his cock, he presses the drooling head at your clit, teases you there slowly, watches the heave of your breasts as you struggle for breath. You bring your knees up, spread wider, inviting him in, and he notches the head slowly, giving you nothing more than the flared crown. He pauses there, thrusting shallowly, watching your swollen, red pussy swallow him, and head catching on the blushed rim, he spits, rubbing the flat of his fingers over the crest of your sex, the unsheathed length of his cock, and then presses in, in, in, in, all the way. You give a warbled whimper, trying to twist away, clawing at the sheets. You’ll never be used to it, never not enjoy the twinge of hurt when he gives you the whole thing. “Fuckin’ love it when you sing for me, little bird,” he moans. And he doesn’t give you a chance, doesn’t give you a second, he never does, setting a hard and brutal pace, riding your cunt like he owns it, because he does.

He wraps his hand around the round of your breast, squeezing, but still careful of how sensitive you are, thumb flicking at the tender nipple, and you spread your legs wider, one hand hooking beneath the sweaty back of your knee to pull yourself open, your other hand reaching down to cup the swinging weight of his balls as he thrusts up into you. He bares his teeth at you, wide palm landing with a little snapping slap low on your pelvis to press down, feel himself from the outside as you squeeze his balls. He shakes his head at you, fire in his eyes, “You’re gonna end up pregnant again, Birdie,” voice chastising, a little like a threat.

You close your eyes, back arching to take him deeper, don’t care, you want to say. “N– no, noooo, can’t” you pant instead, “Can’t get pregnant – breastfeeding.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time, little girl.” He lets himself fall forward, the bone of his pelvis grinding against your clit, and your cunt goes tight and so, so fucking wet, throbbing and fluttering around him, trying to suck him deeper, working around the hard invasion as you start to come. His sweaty, steaming head falls to your breast, mouthing wetly, fucking you through it, just like that, he murmurs, my perfect girl.

“Don’t– Don’t come in my pussy then.”

“No?” He slows his thrusts once he’s felt the trembling of your walls around him settle, lets his hips seesaw in and out slow and languorous, long provoking strokes. “Should I fill that sweet ass instead?” And despite the fierce blush that washes along the length of your body, you nod shyly at him, running your hands down his belly. The fact that he still possesses the ability to drive you to shyness after all this– “Say it, baby. I gotta hear it.” You flush impossibly deeper, little toes curling in humiliated excitement and lust.

“Please, daddy, please– I want it in my ass.” He pulls out suddenly, the lewd wet squelch of your cunt closing hungry around nothing. He spreads his fingers over the length of your sex, slick, gleaming cock, flushed so red it’s almost purple, veins pulsing along the length. “Gorgeous thing,” he murmurs as he starts to pet at your ass gently, thumb swiping, giving you light pressure, and then pushing in slowly, slowly. Your mouth falls open, gasping, eyes wide and wet and probably, definitely, a little pleading. “Lemme in, Birdie. Let me have this sweet little hole.” You nod, a marionette caught on his string, hips starting to hitch and follow the thrust of his invading thumb. “I’m gonna fill it with my come, and then watch it drip out of you. That what you want, baby?” Yes, yes. He pulls his thumb from you, slides his slick hand over your leaking sex again, and then fists his cock, the dull pressure of the wide head at your back entrance, pushing in slowly, making you feel the stretch and burn of it. Your fingers claw and scrape against his chest and abdomen, trying to pull him towards you, push him away, legs shifting restlessly at his sides until he’s buried to the hilt, heavy sac pressed against the curve of your bottom. Sweat slides in steaming rivulets down his temples, his neck, and a bright red flush moves across his chest and up his thick neck. You watch a violent shudder jerk through him, lashes fluttering closed, and then screwing shut tightly as he tries to control the rush of his oncoming orgasm. He runs his hands up your stomach, the dips of your waist and hips, wrapping around your breasts. “You’re doing so well, my little love.” He opens his eyes to take you in, pulls his hips back, and then pushes in again. “Taking my fat cock in this tiny hole. Look how messy and wet your greedy cunt is. You want me to fuck you here too?” He pulls your lips apart, wide, thrums at your swollen clit, and then starts to press a single finger slowly into your pussy. And oh, it’s too much, it’s too much, stretched and stuffed so full of him everywhere, the play of his fingers also on your clit, he starts to fuck your ass in hard, jolting thrusts, growling your name through clenched teeth.

“Look at it,” he spits, “Look at where I’m fucking you open. Look at how you’re all fucking mine.” Your heart beating out of your chest, insides twisting and throbbing, you take in the sight of your blushed sex stretched to obscenity around him, his soaking fingers, two of them now, pressing slowly in and out of your cunt as he slams into your ass. You let your head fall back, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come – oh God.” You cross your arms over your face to hide the sight of your overwhelmed tears, and he pulls his fingers out to slap the top of your cunt in a single stinging swat that you feel reverberate in the place he’s impaling you with his cock. “Nuh uh, you let me look at that gorgeous face when you come all over me.”

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t – it’s too much.

He doesn’t give you a choice. There’s never been much of that where he’s concerned. Everything below your navel goes painfully tight, white light streaking across your eyes as you twist and writhe beneath him, and he follows suit, starts to fill you in thick pulses, the heat of his spend coating your insides with a savage snarl of your name, the breath nearly knocked out of you with the intensity of your shared orgasm. He lets his weight fall over you, pressing you into the bed, massive body shivering and jerking, buried deep inside of you, and after the last spit of his cock, he pulls from you slowly, moaning softly and rolls the both of you over. Draping your listless form over his chest, arranging your limbs how he pleases. You shiver and feel the sweat cool along the slope of your spine, enjoy the tickle of your lashes catching in the coarse hair of his chest. You feel him play with the long tresses of your hair, draping them over his chest and shoulders, rubbing the smell of you against himself. Picking up the hand curled over his shoulder, he absently draws the backs of your fingers against the edge of his jaw and his ear, kissing and sucking on the soft tips.

“Tell me you love me,” you tell him.

“I love you, Birdie.”

Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

“Tell me that you’ll always love me.”

“I’ll always love you. For the rest of my life, as long as I live, I’ll love you.”

Nights later, after the excitement of celebration has died down, and the family’s settled back into peaceful routine, you think about when you’d first realized you were pregnant with Clara, and how you’d worried the news would disturb the happiness and peace he’d fought so hard to find for so many years, terrified that in some way, you’d force him into a situation he didn’t want, wasn’t prepared for. Now, looking across your large bed, two dark, curly heads, another bright, blonde as a star, separating the two of you while he sleeps deep and peacefully, Connie in her crib at your side, you are once again, like so many other times, hit with the full appreciation for the miracle this family is, how wrong you were to ever worry about it being anything but.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#FoG fic #Joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #joel miller x original character #Joel Miller x ofc #joel miller x you

641 notes · View notes

leezlelatch · 1 year ago

Text

Lust in Your Eyes

18+ MDNI

The Cardinal waits for you in your room...but sometimes, he's impatient.

Directly inspired by my beloved @writingjourney's fic.

Filthy self indulgent smut, PLEASE see tags.

Copia x F! Reader - pervy Copia, scent kink, smelling of personal items, masturbation, desperation, breeding kink, explicit conversations, explicit thoughts, self-degradation, self-encouragement, possessive, going through personal items, using articles of clothing for masturbation, caught in the act, p in v, cunnilingus, praise, domination, loud Copia, loud reader, no clean up, teasing, fluff, endearments, exchange of I love you, talk of aftercare.

“Amore?” Copia questions, popping the door open and peeking around the wood. His eyebrows are raised, lips parted slightly, black smudged along the bottom from a day of pressing his lips together in concentration. His eyes briefly roam across the small expanse of your room in the residency hall of the Ministry, huffing a laugh when he spots the stuffed rat he bought you lovingly placed on a pillow in your bed.

He pushes the rest of the door open enough to squeeze his body through, nearly hopping inside before shutting it with his bottom. He pockets the spare key and pulls out his phone, turning it over right side up. “Eugggh…ah! Here we go,” he grumbles, flipping it open. The screen lights up and he raises a hand. “Eureka!”

He holds it away from himself and presses with a heavy gloved finger to open his messages, looking at the last text you sent him.

Hi, sweetie. :) meet me at my room when you’re done?

Copia smiles, the endearment, as always, warming his cheeks. You must be running a little late. He pockets his phone and rubs his hands together with a sigh as he glances around your room once more. He walks over to the small fish tank on your desk, bending over to peer inside at the betta fish relaxing amongst the greenery growing within the tank.

“Hi! Hello, Big Betta. Where is your mama, huh?” Copia shrugs when the beta doesn’t respond and stands upright again, taking off his biretta and placing it on the desktop. He leaves through your record collection, making small noises of appreciation, just wasting time until he has you in his arms again.

Abandoning the shelf of records, he sits down on your bed, running his hand across the comforter. With a sigh, Copia falls back, closing his eyes as your scent envelopes him. He turns on his side and follows the pattern of the bedspread with a single finger, a crooked smile on his lips as he thinks about the very naughty things the two of you have gotten up to in this very bed.

He turns his nose into the soft material, taking a deep breath, his mouth falling open slightly. He turns onto his stomach, drawing his legs up as he skims the tip of his nose across the length of the bed, crawling forward until he reaches your pillow.

“Amore mio,” he rasps, pants growing uncomfortably tight as he presses his face into your pillow. He rotates his hips, pushing the seam of his zipper into his hardening cock, a pathetic noise bubbling from his throat.

Copia freezes then, the silence following his moan terrible as he realizes what he’s doing. The Cardinal heaves a frustrated sigh and drops his head into your pillow. The man is so desperate for you. He won’t deny that. Desperate for your love. Desperate for your body. Desperate for any crumb of your attention he can get. He spent the day half-hard after reading your text, eyes following the clock religiously, counting down the hours.

The Cardinal is not ashamed of his lust, but…perhaps he shouldn’t be humping your bed when you’re not here. A slow smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

Or at least, not here to see it. It wouldn’t do to waste his seed on anything that isn’t the temple with which he worships. Your beautiful body. Your tight pussy. Your womb which he aches to fill.

Copia rolls onto his back and lets out a breath, staring at the ceiling. He grimaces, reaching down to adjust the insistent throb, fighting with his cassock. “Cazzo…,” he growls, sitting up and quickly unbuttoning the suffocating material, ripping it from his body. He nearly falls off the bed in the process, grabbing the bedside table for support. Your lamp sways violently and the few things you have on the surface shake and nearly fall off, but finally Copia throws the offending cassock to the floor.

He turns toward the mirror nailed to the small piece of wall next to your closet and smooths his hair back. He stares at himself, running a hand across his soft stomach as he turns to the side, admiring the way his cock tents his pants. Copia chuckles softly and palms himself, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You’re a dirty old fucker, eh?” He sighs. “Satana, I need her so much.”

Copia checks the clock on your desk, eager for the time to pass. Missing you. Craving you. His entire body alight with the need to have you. Keep you tucked in his arms and in bed. Warm and soft and satisfied. He’d cook for you, care for you, ensure that his precious girl never wants for anything. You’re already his wife in his mind, Copia need only buy the ring.

He turns, idly debating on returning to the warmth of your bed when his eyes fall on the door to your closet. It’s ajar, the cut of the light from your room illuminating a few items of clothing which hang from the rack. Copia slips his fingers through the opening, teasing the door open the rest of the way. A shuddering breath pushes from his throat as the dress you wore to dinner last week reveals itself in all its sinful satin, hanging prettily as if it was waiting for him.

Copia hastily pulls his glove off his hand with his teeth, tossing the leather carelessly over his shoulder. With a nearly shaking hand, he reaches out, pressing searching fingers against the dress, his senses burning with the memory of how it felt to rip it from your body. He’s surprised it survived, looking nearly picture perfect. Its only failure is that you’re not wearing it.

Copia’s cock jumps, straining against his trousers. He whimpers, a small “mmm!” when he reaches down to unzip, his fingers brushing against the wet patch in his underwear. Copia pulls the dress from the closet with a frenzy, holding the hanger in one hand while the other frantically pulls down his underwear, letting his painful cock bob in the air, freezing against his heated skin. He lightly smacks it, watching with a groan as it bounces, the tip red with just the sweetest drop of precum pearled within the slit.

He stands there almost unsure for a moment, eyes falling to your door and then your doorknob. Oh, if it turned right now. If you caught him. The thought makes him shake with need, and he toes off his shoes, kicking his pants and underwear off to the side. He leaves his socks, doesn’t bother to unbutton his clerical shirt, his only remaining thought being to fuck his cock into your dress.

Copia drops to the floor, the floorboards rough on his knees. He groans, and then laughs, the sudden protest of his knees rocking him back to lucidity for a moment. Cardinal Copia, a devotee of lust. Horny and desperate and ready to pleasure himself with the memory of you, the scent of you, until he has you under him again.

Where are you?

Copia yanks the dress from the hanger, bunching it up in his hands and passing the cool satin across his thighs.

“Oh…amore, la mia preziosa ragazza! Ti amo, ti amo cosi tanto,” he whispers fervently, eyes shut tight as he imagines you before him, wearing the dress he so violently clings to.

He finally moves the dress higher, moaning low and deep, drawn out into a high pitched keen as he finally gives his cock the attention it so craves.

“Copia?” Your voice cuts through his lustful haze, and Copia’s eyes snap open, falling on your surprised expression at the door. He stands up so quickly, he falls backwards onto your bed. The dress covers his weeping cock, the Cardinal looking a mess while splayed across your bed, cheeks red.

It’s quiet for several moments.

“Did I keep you waiting too long?” You ask softly, dropping your bag and moving toward the bed.

Copia pulls the dress off of him, cock so hard it curves toward his stomach. “Look at what you’ve done, topolino. Your Cardinal hurts.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I should have hurried.” You pick up the dress, looking at it with a pout. “Were you going to cum on my dress?”

“Of course not,” he admonishes. He sits up and curls a finger, smiling as you dutifully flock to his side. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips, the scratch of his mustache a comfort to you. “Nothing wrong with a little…foreplay, sì? I missed you so much.”

“I missed you,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips meet, Copia hands insistent as he pulls you down to straddle his hips on the edge of the bed. Licking into your mouth, the man flips you, your back hitting the mattress. He ruts into your clothed sex, your surprised squeak swallowed by his mouth. He pulls away to nearly tear your leggings and panties off your body, flinging them into the open door of the closet so hard they rattle the hangers inside.

Copia slides his hands up your inner thighs, spreading your legs to stare unabashedly at your pussy. “Surely I’ve been given favor by the Dark Lord…,” he murmurs, leaning in to drag two fingers through your folds, spreading your lips. “I’ve been waiting all day to taste you.”

His gaze flashes to yours, his lips pulling into a smirk as he gets comfortable on the bed, hooking his arms around your spread thighs. “Watch your Cardinal worship,” he whispers.

He moans, loud and unashamed when your pussy flutters at his words, your slick rapidly sweetening his evening meal. “Don’t worry, dolce. I’ll fill that pretty hole soon enough.”

Copia’s lips close over your clit and he sucks. His tongue flicks, curling around the sensitive nub. You buck your hips with a cry and he moves a hand to your belly to drop them back to the bed, pressing firmly. He keeps you there, attached to his mouth, laving his tongue over and between your folds, dipping into your entrance. His cock gives a powerful kick against the mattress as your walls pull in his tongue.

“Your Cardinal knows,” he coos. Your answering whimper makes him smile. “Sì, sì, he knows.”

“Copia, please,” you beg, rocking your hips into his face, trying to get that perfect nose to hit just right.

This makes him laugh, “My eager topolino. I’m eager, too.”

He kisses up your body, bunching your shirt in a hand as he drags it along. He fumbles for a moment, fighting with your bra, a few choice curses flying into the air before the bra also thwacks against the wall.

“Oh, dolce,” Copia tsks, gently kissing the red marks left behind from your bra. “We will take a break from wearing that, yes? Find you something more comfortable. I can’t have you in pain…they must be so sore.”

He lavishes attention across your breasts, alternating between sucking your pebbled nipples and gently soothing his tongue across the sore marks. The only marks on your gorgeous breasts should be from his mouth. Copia blows against the wet line of his saliva, a grateful sigh making your chest rise and fall from the cool sensation.

“That’s my baby,” he murmurs.

Copia glances down to where his cock rests between your legs, lifting his hips to drag it along your slick, a full body shudder wracking his frame as he moans. He reaches down to wrap long fingers around the length of him, pumping into his fist once, twice, a third time that has his toes curling in his socks.

His eyes meet yours and he leans in for a gentle, lingering kiss. “Are you ready?” He asks, gaze adoring.

“I need you,” you respond, tilting your hips up.

Copia places his tip at your entrance, adjusting to bracket you between his arms, your breaths mingling from how close your faces are now. “Be my brava ragazza and take your Cardinal’s cock, hmm? Can you do that for me?” He whispers, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Yes,” you gasp, feeling the stretch of him as he pushes into you, his cock filling you in a rush of perfection that has you crying his name already.

His thrusts are messy. Stuttering. Copia struggles to find a rhythm, so overwhelmed by the feeling of you. His love. His soulmate. To be inside you is to know the euphoria of damnation. His hands slide under your body and he pulls you impossibly closer as he slides his legs under for leverage, pistoning into you.

Copia’s own cries rival yours, filling the small space of your bedroom, the slap of your skin against his as delicious accompaniment. He collapses on top of you, still pushing, humping, grinding into your soaked cunt, his lips dragging along your shoulder, making a path to your lips.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, breathless. He claims your mouth, curling his tongue around yours while his hand reaches between your bodies to circle your clit. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressed against his chest as your orgasm rips through you, your mouth caught open in a shout of ecstasy. Your hips cant against his, your hole spasming around his cock, milking him dry as he jerks, thighs trembling with his own orgasm. He screams into your skin, head buried in your neck, his hips making quick, tight circles as he rides out his climax.

Copia rolls off, a heavy weight, arms hooked around you to make you follow so you’re both on your sides, legs intertwined. He places exhausted little kisses all over your face.

“My heart. My love. My soul. My sweetheart. My future. My everything. Ti amo. Ti amo. I love you,” each of his soft words punctuated with a kiss.

He tilts your face up with a gentle hand to your jaw, searching your eyes. You have to smile, the black make up encircling his eyes smeared all down his cheeks. “Are you okay, baby? Everything feels okay?” He asks, his voice sleepy and sweet.

“Everything is perfect,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose that makes him giggle.

“Eh…I’m going to feel that in the morning,” he chuckles, tucking you against his chest.

“I should leave you waiting more often.”

Copia playfully growls, ducking his head to press a kiss to your lips. “Next time, I’ll get into your underwear drawer.”

“No!” You giggle, pushing against him. “I already lost three pairs to you.”

“Yes,” he says, nodding with a little smirk. “I confiscate. Too many things between my mouth and your pussy.”

“Copia!” You gasp, your cheeks flaming as you fight a grin. “You’re awful.”

“Ah, you love it,” he shrugs. His expression turns serious then, pleading as he looks at you, wrapped in his embrace where you belong. “You love me?”

“Very much,” you murmur, pressing a hand to his cheek. “I love you so very much.”

Copia turns his face into your hand, placing a kiss in the center of your palm. “We go to my room now, eh? A hot bath will do us both good.”

“You’re gonna make me walk?” You groan softly, rolling onto your back as Copia makes to get up with a sore grunt.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

You sit up, your muscles feeling thoroughly used, and make to grab a towel from your dresser. You can feel his cum smearing along your thighs.

“No, amore,” Copia says, his back to you as he begins to dress. “That’s what the bath is for.”

“But I still have to walk down to your room,” you say, turning to look at him, the towel clutched in your hand.

“Yes, you do.” Copia pauses to return your gaze, expectant.

You drop the towel, blushing softly, “Yes, Cardinal.”

#the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #mdni #ghost #ghost bc #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #poorly translated italian

648 notes · View notes

rollinouttahere-writes · 10 days ago

Note

Hi for the Halloween event can I please request yandere slasher trio (Zoro , Nami and Luffy please ) where Reader decided to stay with Nami since all their friends are dropping like flies ; turns out Luffy and Zoro have been doing it and Nami is the mastermind of it all please . (I’ve been watching to much scream lately XD )

I really love how you make reader interact with this trio in the lucky fic and the one where reader has a crush on Buggy ; honestly fair enough Buggy has got it going on 😔👌

If possible can reader be female please ; if not no worries , gn is fine ❤️

Platonic maybe please ❤️💛🧡

Okay so... remember how I mentioned that I didn't want these fics being too long because I want to get to as many as I can? Yeah... y'all probably aren't going to be surprised that I have immediately failed at that. This story is going to be split into two maybe three parts because it's getting really long and I have accepted that I will not be finishing it tonight.

Also I hope you don't mind, but the rest of the East Blue gang managed to worm their way into this fic, though they won't appear until part two. This part is Romance Dawn Trio centric. Also, I really leaned into the Scream angle, so this takes place in the 90's and everyone is in high school.

East Blue Ripper(s)

Yandere East Blue Gang x Fem Reader

4.5k words

Summary: A night home alone turns spooky when you hear screaming coming from the neighbor's house, but fortunately your friends are there to comfort you.

Warnings: light drug mentions, gendered (female presenting) reader, talk of teenage angst, pretty tame chapter but it gets more intense in the next one so stay with me

“Did you finish the reading assignment?”

The question makes you snort out a laugh. You twirl the phone cord around your finger while kicking your feet up in the air as they’re resting over the back of the couch, “Nope! I’ll skim through the chapters during lunch or something.”

“Aw, come on! I was counting on you being able to sum it up for me!” Nami’s voice crackled through the phone as she whined over your answer, “You’re usually on top of this stuff, how could you fail me like this? You know that I’m busy helping my mom with the orchard, especially with Nojiko being away at college now.”

“Hey, don’t pin that on me! You know that I’ve been stressing over the calculus test, I needed to study for it. Failing that test would be way worse than bombing some reading comprehension quiz for Catcher in the Rye.” Briefly, your eyes glance towards the backpack leaning against the couch. The book is in there, and you contemplate taking it out to at least try to read it, but you shake your head and skim your fingers over the calculus notebook propped up on your lap.

“Hey!”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll forgive you this time, but you’re on thin ice.”

Another voice comes through the phone, slightly muffled from being further away, “Be nice, Nami. It’s not (Y/N)’s fault that you were too lazy to read it yourself.”

You chuckle as Nami starts bickering with her mom. You rest the phone on the couch cushion and decide to refocus on your notes while they argue. You’re a couple of equations in when you hear something. The notebook is tossed aside, and you cover the earpiece of the phone to hear better.

It sounds like screaming.

For a moment, you stay on the couch. Yelling and screaming coming from the house next door was hardly a new thing. Bellamy, an upperclassman who graduated a couple of years ago, rented it with his gaggle of followers. If the rumors were true, it was a trap house, and you had little reason to doubt that based on all the people coming and going from it in rapid succession. It was all shockingly blatant, and it was beyond you how they haven’t been caught yet.

Just when you’re about to go back to studying, you hear more screams. These screams sound different from the usual noise you hear over there. This doesn’t sound like a party or a fight between them breaking out. Whoever just screamed sounded terrified. You set down the phone and toss your notebook aside before rolling off the couch and onto your feet.

Hesitantly, you make your way to a window facing the house and lift up one of the slats of the blinds and peer through. It’s pitch black outside, with only dim lights coming from the neighboring home. You stare harder, but you don’t see anything weird. The strangest thing is that the house seems quieter than usual, but that isn’t exactly enough for you to get worried. You sigh and drop the slat back into place. It was probably nothing. Just some stupid fight between the delinquents you live next to.

You walk back over to the couch and sit on it, properly this time, and pick the phone up to see if Nami and Bellemere are still bickering.

“-llo?! (Y/N)?! If you don’t answer me I’m going to call the police!”

“I’m here! Calm down!”

A loud, exasperated sigh comes through the phone, then the scolding begins, “What is wrong with you?! I was worried when you wouldn’t answer me! I was still holding the phone, you could have at least said that you were going to the bathroom or whatever instead of scaring me like that!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to worry you. I just thought I heard something and had to go check it out.”

There is a pause, then Nami’s dumbfounded voice comes through the phone, “You heard a weird noise and went to investigate? What are you? The first person that dies in a horror movie?”

Your face felt hot at her pointing out how much of a horror movie faux pas you just committed, and you scramble to defend yourself, “It’s not like I went outside! I just peeked through the blinds!”

Nami sighs and you just know that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose. “What did you even hear?”

“I… I could have sworn that I heard screaming coming from next door. Where Bellamy and his cronies live.”

Once again, Nami pauses. You’re about to ask if she heard you when she finally speaks up, “... Did you see anything?”

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t see anyone through the windows, and I haven’t heard anything else since I went to go look.”

“They were probably just fighting about something stupid like usual, or maybe a drug deal went south. Don’t worry about them.” The previous hesitancy in her voice vanished and she was now very quick to dismiss the noises you had heard as nothing, much like you.

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” You heave a sigh and rub your eyes. Perhaps you’ve had a few too many late nights and it’s making you paranoid. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to call it a night here? “It’s been fun chatting with you tonight, but I think I’m going to-”

Another noise came from outside, but not from next door. It’s coming from one of the windows in your living room. Heavy footsteps approached the window, followed by a scraping noise. You’re paralyzed on the couch, all words caught in your throat. This would be a scary experience on its own, but after hearing screaming coming from next door, it was bone-chilling.

“Going to what? Did you cut out on me?”

Nami’s voice instantly snaps you out of your terror-induced stupor. The phone is clutched tightly in your hands as you whisper yell into the receiver, “Someone is outside my window!”

“What?!” Any nonchalance she had previously was wiped away in an instant as she all but shrieked into the phone.

“I can hear someone trying to open the window! I don’t know what to-”

The lock on the window clicked open.

Your mind is screaming at you to run, to scream for help, to find a weapon, literally anything but what you’re doing right now. Yet all your body can do is cower on the sofa while gripping the phone for dear life as if it will save you. Tears sting at your eyes and you can distantly register that Nami is shouting something at you, but you’ll be damned if you can understand any of it over the pounding of your heart.

The window is slid open, rattling loudly and catching on the sides repeatedly as it’s pushed up. Glimpses of an arm can be spotted through the billowing sea foam green curtains, but the rest of the intruder is obscured from view.

Both arms come through the curtains and push them aside so that the person can grab both sides of the window to pull themself through. As this person pulls themself through, you can finally see the face of your soon to be attacker and-

“Oh, god damnit! Zoro! You scared the shit out of me!”

Zoro, your classmate and friend, finishes climbing through your window and looks around your home, not once acknowledging you yelling at him. “This isn’t the dojo…”

The adrenaline leaves your system and you slump back against the couch as a wave of relief competes with the burst of irritation you’re feeling. Are you glad that a serial killer didn’t just climb through your window? Yes. Are you still mad that Zoro just scared you like that? Absolutely. You lift your head up to glower at him.

In the time that it took for you to calm your raising heart, Zoro had wandered over from the window to the couch and plopped down next to you. He was entirely unbothered. He looked over at you and nodded his head, “Hey, (Y/N).”

You want to yell at him, or hit him over the head with the phone, but you choose a different tactic. Your voice is cold as you speak, “Nami. Yell at Zoro for me.” With that, you prop up the phone at his ear and stand up, leaving him to the wrath of Nami while you go to the bathroom to refresh yourself after that ordeal.

As a lecture of epic proportions takes place behind you, you can’t help but chuckle at being able to hear Nami even from here. You step into the bathroom and close the door behind you while flicking the lights on. They flicker briefly before shining down on and illuminating the small bathroom. You only need to take one step before you’re face to face with the sink and staring at your own reflection in the mirror. The faucet knob for cold water is twisted, and you quickly splash your face with it and rub at your eye.

The water is turned off, and you return to your full height to look at your reflection again. While you dry your face and fix your hair, your mind drifts to the unexpected guest in your living room. Zoro was a friend of yours, but a very new one. You would be lying if you said that you felt particularly close to him, especially when compared to your lifelong friendship with Nami.

Both of your moms were friends, so you have pretty much been friends since birth. Well, birth for you, adoption for her. She’s been a consistent part of your life for as long as you can remember. There isn’t anyone that you feel closer to than her.

That’s why it hurt so bad when she started pulling away from you a few years ago. You two grew up being thick as thieves, only for her to suddenly stop hanging out with you and barely speak to you at school. It was around the same time when she started working at some shady restaurant that everyone knew was a front. The “restaurant” was run by a man named Arlong, someone with a horrendous reputation thanks to his short temper and the rumors that he was part of a gang.

It was beyond you why she would choose to work there, and it was even more confusing as to why that seemingly meant that you two couldn’t be friends anymore. It was a massive blow to you, especially when any attempt at confronting her on it led to her shutting down and not saying anything, which later escalated into her snapping at you to just leave her the hell alone and to go bother someone else for once in your life… You aren’t proud to admit that those words completely broke you and led to your own flurry of unkind words that you would spend years deeply regretting. It also led to your friendship officially ending.

This was, of course, a very painful point in your life, though you had at least one good thing come out of it. While you were mourning the death of your friendship with Nami, a new one had developed in its place. After the explosive fight with Nami, you accepted that you needed a new table to sit at during lunch. A part of you wanted to hide away in a bathroom stall, but even while in the throes of teenage angst, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat on a toilet. That led you to finding the quietest, most empty table and sitting at it. There was only one other person on it, and she immediately took you sitting with her as a proposition for friendship and surprised you by dragging you to the mall after school to hang out. At the time, you had been annoyed to have your solitude forcibly intruded upon like that, but you quickly realized how nice it felt to finally have someone to spend time with again.

That friend you made was a girl named Perona. You had only ever seen her in passing before, and while you never had a problem with her, you never went out of your way to get to know her either. She was something of an outcast at the school. Not for any good reason, though the reasons usually never are, she was merely a victim of circumstance. Her father ran the Moria Funeral Home, and that was enough to make everyone else deem her weird and creepy. The labels never seemed to bother her. If anything, she leaned into it. Perona fully embraced the weird girl aesthetic and by all accounts had fun with it. It was a trait that you really came to admire in her as you two grew closer. Perona became a rock for you when you were at your lowest and helped to make you feel like you could move on from Nami and leave all that friend drama in the past.

So imagine your surprise when at the beginning of this school year, Nami approached you to make amends and to “pick up where you left off”. At first, you were rightfully dubious of this abrupt change of heart. You thought that she was fucking with you. That concern was only intensified when you saw that she had a whole entourage of new friends. You thought for sure that she was going to mock and make a fool out of you again for the sake of looking cool in front of them. You had every intention of brushing her off like she had done to you all those years ago.

But, obviously, that isn’t how it went. Not only was Nami persistent, so were all of her new friends. They were all aggressively trying to befriend you and vouch for Nami. Zoro, tonight’s intruder, was by far the most aloof about it. He just kinda… started following you around. It was mostly creepy to begin with, but it did come with the pleasant side effect of all of the school bullies leaving you alone thanks to how intimidating he was.

Sanji’s approach was the polar opposite. You had been aware of him in passing before, and even caught a handful of stray compliments from him on occasion, but now you are pretty sure that he has deluded himself into believing that he’s your boyfriend. The second you come into view, your ears are greeted by him all but screaming “(Y/N), my love!” through the crowded hallway. A more than mortifying experience that had unfortunately become a daily occurrence. At least he made up for it by bringing you admittedly delicious lunches for school.

Usopp had inserted himself into your life as if you had been best friends for years, including by sharing stories of past moments together that literally never happened. He had a reputation for being a liar, and while that was accurate, he’s also a funny and genuinely nice guy now that you’ve gotten to know him. He even helps you out with your homework if you ask. Out of all of the new people introduced to you through Nami’s return, he was probably the one you got along with the best.

And then there was Luffy. He was an interesting character to say the least. Much like Usopp, he was also acting like you two were best friends right off the bat. He’s always slinging an arm around your shoulders and trying to drag you off to whatever adventure he’s concocted that day, or inviting himself over to your house. Sometimes during the day like a normal person, or sometimes he scares the hell out of you by crawling through your window in the middle of the night like some sort of sleep paralysis demon so he can recruit you into whatever late night scheme he came up with.

Perhaps it was a testament to how much you missed Nami, but in the end they managed to get through to you and become people you considered friends. More importantly, they helped to bridge the gap between you and Nami so you two could finally make up and be friends again. Having Nami’s friendship back was all that you had ever wanted in your years apart, and words could not describe the relief that you felt when you could finally put all of that pain and misery behind you.

But, now really wasn’t the time to be dwelling on the past. You still had to deal with Zoro, didn’t you? You slap your cheeks a few times to get yourself back into the present moment, then exit the bathroom. Nami’s voice can no longer be heard echoing down the halls, so you guess she either calmed down, or -more likely- Zoro hung up on her. You step into the living room only to be greeted by a whole other problem grinning at you.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

There, sitting cross-legged in front of the shelf containing your family’s collection of VHS tapes, was Luffy. He smiled and waved at you, completely carefree and offering zero explanation as to what he’s doing in your house.

“When did you get here?”

Luffy went back to going through the tapes. “A few minutes ago. You left the window open, so I let myself in.” He started humming to himself while pulling out tapes to examine them.

Actually, Zoro left the window open, but you decided not to harp on the details. God knows that Luffy wouldn’t care. The much more important thing to get to the bottom of was why Luffy and Zoro were even here. You glance back at the couch to see that Zoro is still there. He’s sprawled out with his arms crossed behind his head. The landline had been tossed haphazardly onto the side table, and had indeed been hung up. You’re sure that Nami is going to have a word or two to say about that in person when she sees Zoro at school tomorrow.

“Okay, why are you two here at,” you look up at the clock on the wall, “almost 11 at night?”

Luffy was quick to pipe up with an answer, “We were walking back home after hanging out with Usopp.”

That made no sense, and you quickly point that out, “He lives on the other side of town. How the hell did you end up over here?”

“Zoro said he knew a shortcut, so I let him lead the way. That was pretty dumb of me, huh?” Luffy chuckled after his explanation, which evolved into full on laughter when Zoro threw a pillow at him from across the room.

While you were still annoyed, you had to admit that his story made sense. Zoro could get lost in a paper bag, so it isn’t at all shocking that he could have wandered over to your place while trying to get back to the kendo dojo he lived out of.

“It’s cool if we crash here for the night, right? I don’t want Zoro getting us even more lost.”

The question surprised you. Shocked you even. While you’ve had them over to hang out before, typically with everyone else, the only people you’ve ever had stay overnight were Nami and Perona for obvious reasons, ones that you’re quick to voice, “No way! My mom will freak out if she finds out that I let boys spend the night!”

Luffy pouts at your answer, but it’s Zoro who speaks up this time, “Her shift doesn’t end until 8, right? We’ll already be at school by the time she gets home. She’ll have no way of knowing that we were ever here.”

What Zoro said was true. Your mom worked overnight shifts as an ER nurse at the local hospital. She probably won’t know so long as you all clean up and neither of them leave any evidence behind. Still… it feels risky, and you really don’t want to risk pissing off your mom by surprising her with two unexpected guests if she comes home early for whatever reason.

Sensing your unease at the idea, Luffy springs up and hurries over to you. He takes both of your hands into his own and stares into your eyes with a pleading gaze. “Come on, please! We’ve never gotten to have a sleepover before! It’ll be fun! We can watch a movie or something! Please!” Luffy is begging you as if you’re Sanji and he’s trying to get more Baratie leftovers.

You don’t really want to say yes… but you know that Luffy isn’t the kind of person to take no for an answer. This would probably be fine. Your mom basically never came home early. You should be able to keep them having been here a secret. You take a deep breath, then relent, “Fine. You guys can spend the night.”

Before you can even blink, Luffy is scooping you up into a hug. Your feet are lifted off the ground as he spins you around and cheers victoriously. You’re dropped back onto your feet, and Luffy wastes absolutely no time before sprinting over to the shelf to grab a movie to watch.

“Hey, wait. It’s really late. Shouldn’t we just go to sleep now?” Your protest was weak, and you could practically hear the answer before Luffy even said it.

“I thought you’ve had sleepovers before. You know that you aren’t supposed to sleep at sleepovers!” Luffy pulled a VHS case off the shelf and hurried over to the TV to put it in. It would seem that his mind was made up. Looks like you’re having an impromptu movie night. Luffy turned on the VHS player and cracked open the case. As he pushes the tape into the player, he looks over his shoulder at you with another one of his infectious smiles, “Do you have any popcorn?”

“Yeah… I’ll go make some.” With a sigh, you straighten up and wander into the kitchen to get started on the popcorn. Sock clad feet pad across the linoleum floor as you make your way to the pantry to grab a stovetop popcorn pan. Typically, you would only make one of these if Nami or Perona was over, or if you and your mom were having a movie night on one of her rare nights home, but it wasn’t unheard of for you to knock back one of these on your own. It shouldn’t raise any suspicion from your mom when she comes back home in the morning.

The pan is dropped onto the front right burner and you grab the temperature control knob, turning on the gas, then quickly igniting it into a controlled fire to heat the popcorn. From here, you can faintly hear the distinct sound of the tape being rewound. Ah, yeah, you and your mom do have a tendency to forget to do that when the movie is over.

You can’t help but wonder which movie Luffy picked out. He was partial to action movies. Stuff like Jurassic Park, the Terminator movies, Star Wars, that kind of thing. Though with it being October, he was on a bit of a horror movie kick. Last week, you guys watched both Predator movies and made it through the first two Alien movies while hanging out at Usopp’s place. None of you were particularly big fans of the third one, so Usopp didn’t even bother renting it from Blockbuster.

Popping kernels snap you out of your pondering and you glance down to see the aluminum top rapidly expanding. You quickly start shaking the pan to help circulate the kernels to keep them from heating unevenly and burning. Before long, the popping subsides and you know that the popcorn is ready. You cut the gas and move the pan to another burner, then crouch down to dig the large popcorn bowl out from its place in the cabinet.

As soon as the popcorn is dumped in, you pick up the bowl to bring it to the living room and find the lights already off and the movie playing. Luffy and Zoro are seated on either side of the couch, leaving only the space between them open. You sit down, and your ass has barely hit the cushion before Luffy is grabbing a fistful of popcorn.

You look up at the screen, and it takes you a minute to clock which movie is playing. A man is getting into a car in a snow covered setting and speeding down the road. Realization dawns on you as the driver begins losing control of the car.

“Is this Misery?”

Luffy nods enthusiastically, “I heard Nami talking about it. She said it was really good!” He turns his head away from the screen to look at you properly. “Why? Do you not like it?”

“I like it well enough, I’m just not sure you will. I think you’ll find it a bit boring compared to what you usually watch, that’s all.” You quickly toss some popcorn into your mouth, eyes flicking back to the screen as the door to famed writer Paul Sheldon’s car is pried open by his obsessed fan, Annie Wilkes. The first time you watched this movie was when you were spending the night at Perona’s house. She was something of a horror movie buff and would watch them year round. Naturally, your friendship with her meant partaking in her interest. You’d seen a handful before, but she really got you into the genre and would bring you with her to the theater every time there was a new one.

Your reminiscing is cut short by Luffy. “But it’s a horror movie. How can it be boring?”

“I mean, it’s not boring boring, it’s just more of a psychological thriller rather than the gorey action horror movies you tend to gravitate towards.” You eat another handful of popcorn and spare a glance at Zoro, only to find that he has already fallen asleep. Whatever. You’re sure that Luffy will happily eat Zoro’s share of popcorn and most of yours.

“If it’s a thriller, it has to be fun, right?” Luffy throws his legs over your lap and you have to act fast to lift the popcorn bowl and prevent it from getting spilled everywhere. You move it to rest in the gap between yours and Luffy’s laps since it’s just going to be you two eating it.

“I guess so. Maybe I’m wrong and you’ll like it.” You sink further into the back of the couch, eyes already feeling heavy. It’s pretty unlikely that you’ll make it through the entire movie, and knowing Luffy, he will probably get bored and be out not long after you.

While you may have gone into this forced hangout a little annoyed by the whole situation, all in all, this wasn’t a terrible way to spend the night. If it weren’t for these two showing up, you likely would have spent the night being paranoid about the screaming you thought you heard earlier that was now little more than a distant memory.

You felt safe. You could trust them. There is absolutely nothing to fear.

#yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #nami #cat burglar nami #usopp #sanji #black leg sanji #perona #halloween event 2024

72 notes · View notes

mbappeslover · 2 years ago

Text

écoute chérie // kylian mbappé | part one.

kylian mbappé x f! reader.

saw this edit on tiktok, they edited mbappé to écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer and… i fell in love. the song is sooo mbappé.

y/n got the job as kylian’s personal assistant. his previous assistant fired for unknown reasons. y/n had heard about kylian mbappé and his terrible attitude. she wasn’t excited to work with him. but, turns out.. he’s actually not that bad.

read part 2 here.

read the finale here.

credits to the editor: strkvoid on tiktok, they did such an amazing job <3, my favorite mbappé edit.

“y/n y/l/n, you’ve been accepted!” the notification pinged and appeared at the top of your screen. you clicked on it so fast.

one week ago.

“y/n, have you seen this? kylian mbappé’s management is looking for a new personal assistant.” your friend tells you during a phone call.

“oh really?” you ask.

“yes… and, you qualify for it! like a 100 percent. wait, i’m gonna send you the link.”

you received the message and clicked on the link, it was indeed an exclusive offer/application to becoming the footballer’s new personal assistant.

“y/n, you should really go for it. the pay is amazing and i’m sure it’ll be an awesome experience.”

you skim through the countless pages and listing of requirements and benefits the job offered. plus, you were indeed qualified for the job.

“mmm… i don’t know. everyone talks about how much of an asshole kylian mbappé is. how he’s a jackass with a shitty attitude and an unbearable ego, bigger than the universe.” you explain, iffy about this whole thing.

“oh please, it’s not like you’re gonna be all lovey dovey with the guy. imagine how much money you’ll be making. you want to quit your current job right now anyway.” your friend says, trying her hardest to convince you.

you laugh. “okay, you’re right. i’ll call you back, i’m gonna read through all the paper work, submit my résumé and update you on it.”

you weren’t too serious about it, you doubted that you’d actually get the job.

everything just got real. definitely serious.

you got the job, you were on call with the footballer’s management, and you were now getting familiarized with his schedule.

“alright, ms. y/l/n, we’ve spoken through all the things you’ll be needing to do for kylian. i’ve sent you an email of a file that lists all the things you must do for him. now, all we need is for you to sign a few things. it’ll take you about ten minutes. it wasn’t much before but… some things went down. so, we had to make a few arrangements.” kylian’s manager stated.

you just nod taking everything in and trying to process it at once.

you heard the ping from your phone, signaling you got the email.

“okay, perfect. today, i’ll show you around psg and tomorrow you’ll be meeting kylian.”

a tour guide took you around the stadium, briefly explaining different areas and rooms in the building to you.

it was a long day. you were now in bed, aimlessly scrolling on instagram because you couldn’t sleep.

you’re nervous. why?

the athlete you’ll be attending to is possibly the biggest asshole in paris, france and you’re gonna have to deal with it.

you decide to go on his instagram.

“k. mbappé, 94.1m Followers, 389 Following, 1204 posts.”

you click on the first photo presented and begin scrolling down.

in almost all photos he’s smiling, with a caption full of emojis and empowering words.

he looks so… sweet?

is this the same guy with the so-called “bad attitude?”

you fell asleep.

after scrolling through all one thousand, two hundred and four posts by kylian mbappé.

your alarm rang, loudly.

you groaned, getting up to prepare yourself for the day.

after getting dressed, you received a call from kylian’s manager.

“good mornin-“ you tried greeting politely, before cut off.

“good morning dear, i need you here in ten minutes.”

“it’s only 9:00, i was told to be there at 9:30. did something happen?” you ask, exasperated.

“yeah, well, kylian decided to come earlier than we thought and right now, he wants an organic green juice from le juice. it has to be from juicerie.” the manager explains.

“le juice is like fifteen minutes from where i am right now, how will i be able to make it in ten?” you say, slightly panicking.

“well, find a way. mbappé cares about his health, a lot. all that stuff about nutrition and good food is the key to health. if you didn’t know, now you do. be here in ten, please darling!” the managers says in a cheery voice before hanging up.

first day on the job and they were already trying to make the impossible, possible.

you quickly go on the website for le juice and order and paid online for a medium organic green juice for pick-up.

you catch a taxi and head over to le juice. it was a five minute drive because it was still a bit early and the streets hadn’t start to fill yet, luckily.

you ask the taxi driver if they could wait for a quick second while you grab the order from inside.

the taxi driver fussed a bit yet ultimately decided to wait.

again, you were able to swipe up the juice since the shop just opened and customer didn’t pile up in the juice bar.

you hop back in the taxi and make your way to the stadium.

“tsk, your first day on the job and you’re seven minutes late. you better hurry up and get in there.” the manager scolds you once you arrive, outside the office room of psg.

“well, you should’ve told me i would have to be here earlier, you cunt.”

you didn’t actually say that, you thought it, but, you didn’t say it.

you quickly enter the room, with a little a stumble, almost tripping on your own feet. you quickly laugh at how much of a mess you are.

the room is packed, there’s people everywhere, most likely other staff members. you see at the corner of the room, there’s a small crowd of people surrounding something.

you squeeze in between people, trying to find a way through.

“excuse me. yea, sorry. my apologies. let me just squeeze in. i’m sorry.” you murmur out while gliding through the people in the packed room.

that’s when you were faced with him.

he’s exactly like those photos on the internet, a vibrant face, smiling while the people around him asks him questions like how’s his morning, would he like anything to drink, trivial things to simply make conversation.

the infamous kylian mbappé.

you cleared your throat, put on your most brightest smile and polite voice.

“mr. mbappé, this is your organic green juice.” you say, putting your hand out to give the drink.

the area becomes quiet as the attention shifts on you.

you briefly look around confused.

and the smile that was once on kylian’s face had disappeared.

it was replaced with a hard stoned, cold glare.

“the fuck?” you thought.

he grabs the drink from your hand, not even thanking you before continuing the small talk with staff around him.

you try your hardest not to make a face at his rude behavior.

you brush it off.

literally.

brushing yourself off, taking a deep breath. putting on a polite voice again, you introduce yourself.

“hello, my name is y/n. i’m sure your manager already told you about me, i am your new personal assistant. if you ever need me, for anything, feel free to let me know. that’s my job, of course.” adding in a little humor to lighten the atmosphere, reaching your hand out.

once again, the area of the room goes silent. his smile falls once again and he slowly turns to look at you.

“d'accord. où est ma paille?” (okay. where is my straw?)

the crowd laughs.

you reach out your bag, handing him the straw before walking away.

“the rumors are true. he’s insufferable. literally an asshole. a two-faced scum? who even treats someone like that? no wonder his old assistant left. who’d want to deal with that.” you were now on the phone with your friend who encouraged you to apply.

“y/n, calm down. i know it was frustrating, but, it’s just your first day. at least quit after you get your first check.” your friend said, trying to comfort you.

yea, that’s right. y/n cried. cried very hard. today was extremely difficult.

you followed kylian everywhere, attempting to tend to his needs, but, all he did was be rude or downright ignore you.

“sir, how are you feeling? would you like for me to schedule a massage for you, in case you are feeling tense?” you ask.

“do i look tense to you?”

“mr. mbappé, your manager has informed me that you have a meeting on friday at 3pm.”

“who makes meetings on friday? i’m not going, you’re going. i have to relax.”

“mr. mbappé-“

“please stop bothering me. aren’t you my assistant? why must you keep calling out my name, you’re here to handle my business.”

“i don’t even know what i did to him? why should i get treated like this? it makes no sense.” you complain to your friend.

“i’m sure it’ll get better eventually… hopefully.”

“yea, hopefully.”

it’s been two weeks, working as kylian mbappé’s personal assistant.

to say y/n felt drained would be an understatement.

fourteen endless days of talking to a brick, solid wall.

a brick, solid wall with snarky remarks and a stinky attitude.

“mr. mbappé, your driver is outside waiting for you. he has the specific refreshments you asked for.” y/n says.

“alright, walk me to the car.” he says.

y/n’s concerned because he usually just nods and walks to the car himself.

as the two makes their way to the car, kylian starts conversation.

“your name, y/n, right?”

this is weird.

so weird.

“yes, sir. y/n y/l/n.”

“alright y/n, can you cook?”

“yes, i can cook, why?” y/n questions.

“génial. je veux que tu cuisines pour moi. (great. i want you to cook for me).” kylian says nonchalantly.

y/n stops dead in her tracks as kylian continues to walk.

“so, now i have to cook for this man? really?

well, it is your job…

oh, shut up. i know that!

just saying…” you internally battle with yourself.

he turns around, “well are you coming? i don’t have all day and i’m starving.”

you snap out of it, speed-walking to catch up.

“why are you standing by the door?”

you were in your bosses house. well, it’s not out of the ordinary because you are his personal assistant.

however, this is a drastic jump from a few days ago, when he didn’t even want you near him.

“are you okay, mr. mbappé? it looks pretty bad. i can go get you some soothing gel!”

he hurt himself pretty badly while trying to perform a trick during practice.

“no! i’m fine. don’t touch me, move!”

he spat out, stumbling to get up by himself.

you back up in utter shock.

other staff runs up to offer him support as he limps away.

mbappé’s pov:

his new personal assistant stood at the door, looking like a lost puppy that was left for dead on a rainy night.

kylian knew he was being hard on her, harsh to her. but, he couldn’t let his guard down.

he refused to let history repeat itself.

“why are you standing by the door?” he asks.

y/n seemed to be lost in her thoughts when he said that because she snapped up and made her way into the house after taking off her tory burch sandals.

kylian observed the woman as she subtly looked around the place before making her way to the kitchen.

he couldn’t lie. she was beautiful. she could be on the cover of a makeup magazine because of how natural and pretty her features were.

he wishes he could see her smile. most of the time she wears a frown on her face, sometimes a pout that kylian finds endearing. he wouldn’t show that though. or.. say it, ever.

her hair looked so soft, her voice was so nice on the ear. she had a nice figure, ones of a dancer, delicate, light on the feet.

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she said. he loved her voice, utterly. like a bee, wanting to drown in honey. he wanted to drown in her voice, listen to it forever.

“call me kylian.”

for some reason, he finds himself wanting to get to know her. get closer to her.

y/n’s pov:

‘oh God, he’s staring.’ you think to yourself.

y/n has made her way to the kitchen after taking in the penthouse. it was so nice and luxurious. she wondered how much or how long she’d have to work before ever living in a place like this.

she began looking in the cabinets, taking out a few pots and pans before realizing her boss didn’t even tell her what he wanted to eat.

“mr. mbappé, what exactly would you like for me to cook.” y/n says, an attempt to ease the tension.

‘he’s still staring. what the hell is wrong with him?’

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she repeats.

he looks you straight in the eye.

“call me kylian.”

you two continue making eye contact, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable, but, it’s rather… nice? it feels nice. it’s the first he’s ever actually acknowledged you.

you break the eye contact, clearing your throat.

“alright, if you don’t have anything set in mind, i’ll just cook and try to make do with whatever you have here.” you say.

it’s been about 50 minutes and you’re finally done cooking. you made steak & farfalle pasta with creamy tomato sauce.

kylian went into his bedroom since you began cooking and hadn’t come out. but, you did hear faint music coming from his room.

you begin to plate his food nicely, setting it on the kitchen island with a glass cup of ice water.

luckily, you clean along the way while cooking so there wasn’t a mess. you were tired, you wanted to get home and unwind.

you walk up to his bedroom door, about to knock, when the door swings open.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” you say slightly surprised.

he doesn’t say anything.

but, you could care less. your attention shifts to the song being played in the background.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” you say excitingly, completely forgetting that you’re at work. technically.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he replies with a small chuckle.

‘did he just chuckle? with me? did kylian mbappé, my rude ass boss. chuckle… with me?’

you smile, looking at the small smile that adorned his face as he chuckled.

you won. you’re winning mbappé over.

mbappé’s pov:

he was in his room, sipping on some expensive red wine from a brewery that gifted him some.

he felt at peace, moments like these to himself. drinking something, listening to music, letting loose.

not only that, but, most likely, he could smell the aroma from the food his personal assistant, y/n was making for him.

its been a little while, he was gonna go check on the food.

his favorite song comes on.

“partir, venir, mourir, courir.”

what a lovely song. he sings to himself, along the chant before making his way to the door.

opening it, there she was.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” she says, obviously a little spooked.

he doesn’t care about that, though. the more he looked at her, the more time he spent around her, the harder it got to suppress his obvious attraction to the woman.

he visibly sees something click in her head as she moves from his sight to get a better hearing of what was being played.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” she says.

‘God, she’s so cute.’ he thinks to himself.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he says, trying to hold back the ‘awe’ he wants to say so bad.

she smiles.

kylian felt like his heart could explode.

without absolutely zero exaggeration, she has got to have an award for having the most beautiful smile in the universe.

that smile right there—convinced kylian that he would make it his mission to always see that smile as long as y/n’s around him.

y/n turns around, leading him to his meal.

his stomach grumbles as he lay eyes on the food. it looks delicious. better than any five star michelin restaurant he’s been to. would probably taste better as well.

he’s confused, though. there’s only one plate of food.

he turns to y/n.

“where’s your food?”

“oh, i only made food for you, sir-“

“kylian, call me kylian.”

“yes, i’m sorry, kylian.”

“i’m gonna wait here for you to finish your food so i can wash your plate, then i’ll be out your hair, if that’s fine with you, kylian.”

he knows he can’t just let her leave like that.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he thinks he knows what he wants.

“that’s fine. come sit down.” he says, pulling out the chair next to him.

y/n hesitantly makes her way and gets seated. kylian slides over the glass of ice water to her.

“no, it’s for you.” y/n explains.

“i know, but, just drink it. i have some wine in my room.”

“okay, do you want me to go get it and pour some out for you?” y/n says, about to make her way there when kylian gently pulls her down.

“no, no, it’s fine. relax.” he says.

kylian begins eating, almost scarfing the food down.

y/n takes a sip of the water while looking at him eat.

“is it good?” y/n asks.

he stops for a second, chewing and swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“very. best meal i’ve had in a long time, y/n. thank you.” he says with a genuine smile on his face.

y/n smiles back before bringing the glass cup up to her lips and drinking some more water.

“so, y/n, how old are you?” he says, finishing up his food.

“i turned 24 a few months ago.” y/n says.

“really? i turned 24 a few months ago as well.”

“i know that, you’re the star of france.” y/n says with a small smile on her face.

he smiles at her again.

y/n couldn’t take it.

‘this is awfully weird. why is he being so… nice. it was concerning.’ she thinks to herself.

silence takes over the room and the only sound being the fork hitting against the glass plate as kylian takes a bite of the pasta.

“kylian, why are you so mean to me?”

“y/n, i know i haven’t been the nicest to you…”

they say at the same time. they both laugh.

“you go first.” kylian offers to y/n.

“alright, i was asking. why are you so mean to me? did i do.. something.”

kylian sighs deeply, “no y/n, you did nothing wrong, but, a lot happened before that’s making me like that towards you. just know i don’t mean it.” he explain.

“well, what happened?”

“i’ll tell you later.” kylian says finishing the food.

y/n took the plate and glass cup, made her way to the sink and began washing the dishes.

y/n wondered, what was on his mind. what was he thinking about.

too deep in thought to not see her boss, kylian. staking right next to her, leaning on the countertop.

she finishes cleaning the plate and cup.

she turned to her left, her soul jumping out her chest.

“kylian! why are you always sneaking up on people.” y/n said, laughing off the remaining shock with a hand over her heart.

“sorry, sorry, i just like looking at you.” he laughs.

y/n laughs too.

“oh really?”

“OH? REALLY?” she says backtracking because it registered to y/n what he said.

“yes. you’re beautiful.” he says, stepping a teeny closer to the beautiful woman in front of him.

y/n blushes.

“the food was really good as well. i really wish you would’ve ate with me.” he says.

“i’m just your assistant. i don’t want to break any of your boundaries. i respect you.” y/n says.

“i respect you.” kylian replays it in his head.

he already had a slight crush on y/n, but, this was different.

he has a crush on y/n.

“wow, you’re making me feel like shit for treating you the way i did. i respect you, too. say, come over again tomorrow. if you make me something to eat again, i’ll tell you what happened.” he says with a smile on his face.

y/n remains silent. she was thinking.

‘is kylian mbappé flirting with me?’

there��s no way.

yes there is! look at the way he’s looking at you. he wants you!’ you weigh out to yourself.

kylian think it’s adorable. the way y/n constantly looks like a lost puppy.

he bends down a bit, leveling himself to y/n’s height to get her attention.

“everything alright in there?” kylian says.

y/n seems to still be in deep thought when kylian giggles.

he takes his index finger, placing it underneath y/n’s chin, lifting it up.

he looks her in the eye.

he wants to kiss her, her lips look so soft. he’s 100% sure if their lips were to simply graze across one another, he’d still love it. be addicted to it.

y/n looks back into his eyes, feeling her heart beat and her stomach start to flutter.

“deal or no deal?” kylian says as he tilts his head to the side.

y/n eyes drops to kylian’s lips. they were the perfect size and naturally protruded out.

she imagined how it’d feel. probably like a pillow, or, maybe a marshmallow.

y/n eyes make its way back to kylian’s.

she made up her mind.

“deal.” she says before gently removing his finger from her chin. she gathered her bags and made her way to the door, kylian following right behind.

she slipped on her sandals as kylian unlocked & opened the door.

y/n walks out, before turning to kylian who stood by the door.

“goodnight.”

they say together.

the two laugh.

“till next time then, goodnight mr. mbappé.” y/n says.

“it’s kylian and i’ll call you tomorrow. make sure you answer. goodnight, y/n.” he says, smiling.

a/n (author’s note):

i am confident in this at all.. i feel like it could be way better but i wanted to hurry and publish something to whoever’s waiting. i’ve been so busy and tired with school :,(. it was supposed to only have one part but i didn’t wanna rush the plot too much.

i tried something new with the whole “pov” thing. and, i hope it’s not too confusing because i switch from 2nd point of view to 3rd a lot.

i guarantee part 2 will be more exciting than this. thanks for reading!

#kylian mbappe fic #football #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe #k. mbappe #mbappe imagine #mbappe x reader #mbappe psg #psg #world cup #kylian #kylian mbappé #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #football imagine

1K notes · View notes

fuckyeahmhawkefenris · 5 months ago

Text

It is unbearably quiet on tumblr lately, and what little talking there is, it's all about the next game. Yeah, we're no longer in 2012, I get it.

I'll just keep entertaining myself however I can.

I've always wanted to talk about one fic I secretly refer to as one of the hidden gems in the fenhawke archives. I have never ever seen anyone bring it up, and in all these years I've never dared to recommend it to anyone... Don't think you can even find it so easily? For good reason tbh...

Thing is, it's a fill for da kink community on livejournal. Anyone remember that place? The safe haven where anyone could anonimously submit the kinkiest most shameless things you could think of - offering prompts, filling them... Those were some desperate times when we were painfully low on content, and it was very hard to find something to read. Finding a story with characterization that suited your vision was near impossible!

I myself was desprate enough to brave through countless pages of imageries I could not stomach, skimming through them just to get the general idea until something captured my attention.

So I found this, and honestly, to this day to me it is one of the best examples of... idk, not just good characterization, but the overall feeling of the fenhawke relationship, why I can't let go of them after 12 years? It's all subjective, of course, but no fanfic ever resonated with me as deeply as this. Also back then mage Hawke was not very popular and most stories featured rogues... I used to be very sad and lonely!

Warning: it's extremely triggery. I wouldn't even recommend reading the first part at all, because it's too difficult and painful to get through. Hell, I couldn't read it! I was looking through the text very VERY briefly to get only the most basic and vague understanding of what was happening, and it was still hard! There is a lot of abuse, rape, slavery things...

To get the idea:

The Alone quest did not get resolved as planned. Danarius managed to win that battle, captured Fenris and returned to Tevinter, gravely injuring Hawke in the process (Fenris thought he was killed). To break the remains of his will, Danarius threatens to erase Fenris's memories of Hawke, and he succumbs and stops resisting altogether. I don't want to recall the details, but it was awful. Go straight to part 17 (it's a flashback) to read a very lovely take on fenhawke first night together. It's super sweet and gentle, though painfully sad in context. Still, beautiful. Well, it gets worse before it gets better! Somewhere in part 19 Fenris's friends come for him (they sailed all the way here on Isabela's new ship) and he's rescued. What follows is an exceptionally touching tender reunion with Hawke. Oh, and then, once all is settled comes the second part - All the King's men, which is much less controversial and fairly easy to read. Fenris copes with his experiences, and Hawke is always there for him. There are some truly fantastic moments as they slowly get close to each other again! Isabela is pretty great here, and Anders... sorta made me warm up to his character? And it's all fairly believable and close to how we see them in the game.

I'm saying all this and linking this fic on the off chance that someone with tastes similar to mine ever needs something like it. I know I am grateful it exists, and still hold it very dear to my heart. Definitely never regretted finding it!

#dragon age 2 #da2 #fenhawke #hawris #fenris #garrett hawke #male hawke x fenris #fenris x m!hawke #private ramblings #FicRec #FirstNight

77 notes · View notes

lucianhuntress · 21 days ago

Text

Day 20. Alhaitham x Reader: 88. “Give ‘em hell.”

A small note falls into Alhaitham’s lap as he opens the book he had been patiently waiting to read. He glances over the parted book, spying on you as you keep browsing the wide variety of books in the shelves not too far from him and clearly pretending to not know of his presence.

He picks up the small note and reads it, with an amused scoff and reads it.

Give ‘em hell. ♡

He recognizes the handwriting with the adorable little heart at the end of the sentence as this isn’t the first note Alhaitham has found hidden between the pages of books. At first he was unsure if these were just random notes some random scholar left behind after they read it, but then you appeared; reading the same books that he had planned to read, sitting silently in a comfortable chair at the Akademiya. Then he observed you further by just casually pretending to read while at the Akademiya and learned that you are actually an Amurta scholar and these books shouldn’t be part of your studies or research.

Then what drove you to read books that aren’t your field of research? Finding out the truth shouldn’t really keep him up at night, but he slowly found himself tangled in the case. He was often staring at you as you browsed the endless line of books, slightly longer than he intended. There was something both amusing about the way you picked up a book with a theme you haven’t actually studied at all and he found himself mesmerized watching you struggle.

“Alhaitham, the meeting starts soon,” a childlike voice speaks from somewhere behind Alhaitham and the tiny Dendro Archon skips cheerily into his field of view. The punctual scholar flinches in surprise as both realization and frustration hit him. Every time he found a note between the books was before a meeting. Why didn’t he realize sooner?

“Looks like I failed to observe the flow of time,” he replies dryly and glances into your direction. Your eyes meet briefly and you turn away, completely flustered while squealing on the inside. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he tells Nahida and picks up a pen and blank paper that lie on a coffee table, left behind by someone else.

The little girl hums joyfully and continues her journey towards the meeting room.

Alhaitham scribbles something hurriedly on the small piece of paper after tearing it away from the bigger sheet of paper. He folds it neatly and hides it between the pages of a book, while making sure you can see his actions from a distance.

“Such a shame I couldn’t finish that book,” he speaks slightly louder than normal, just so you can hear him. Then he leaves the book on the table before following Nahida’s trail. As he passes by you, he glances into your direction and you can catch a tiny smile on his lips, making you swoon.

After a while —and making sure Alhaitham has disappeared behind the closed doors—, you scuttle off to pick up the book he left on the table, realizing that it wasn’t the book he actually was reading earlier, but is instead an Amurta book. You’re surprised as you didn’t notice him switching out books at any point. You quickly skim through the pages, when a tiny note falls on the table. You pick it up, unfolding it while holding your breath as if you were going on a dive.

Meet me at Puspa Café at 6 pm.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact drabble #october drabble

42 notes · View notes

woongisi · 10 months ago

Text

Drum Line Dream // Song Mingi

dom!Song Mingi x sub!gn!Reader // SMUT

WC// 2.1k

Synopsis// Things went a bit off kilter with your college marching band crush. Turns out, all you needed to fix it in the end was some bad luck and deep fried food.

Warnings// semi-public, grinding/dry humping, pet names (baby)

Author's Note// Written in one sitting and definitely not proofread. Nothing too crazy this time but I HAD to get this very self indulgent idea out of my mind. This one's for you former and current band kids, I get you. ☺︎

---------

College marching band. One of your worst decisions, yet one of your best. There was no shortage of drama to be had but at least you'd met some of your closest friends.

You played the trombone, it was large and it was loud. Your type of instrument and coincidentally your type of man. Maybe you'd smacked a few too many people in the head with your slide or emptied your spit valve on the shoes of those you disliked. Regardless, you considered it revenge for how the wind instruments would sneak up on you and blow air into their reeds as hard as possible just behind your ear.

As far as instrumental squabbles went, you found the drum line to be the most tolerable. Sure, some of the snares made it a point to play as loudly as they could, but they kept it localized within their section. You had a hard time admitting it, but you may have held a bit of a bias toward them.

That bias was Song Mingi. Song Mingi played the bass drum. The kind that you had to pull over your head, two heavy straps bracing your shoulders on either side. The kind that burned through far too many expensive wool felt mallets. You never were sure how they beat them up so quickly.

You met Mingi your freshman year and got acquainted with him rather quickly, you never had much time to spend with him as your show for the year had you in separate areas for most of it. The same followed your sophomore. Now, you found yourself in your junior year.

Earlier in the year you'd ushered Mingi over and haphazardly told him he was hot, and that if he didn't kiss you, you might cry. There you shared a kiss high up in the bleachers, hiding behind the row of bass drums. Since that moment things had become a bit awkward, you apologized, claiming you'd been overly emotional and didn't want things to get in the way of your friendship. What you didn't know was the conflict that caused Mingi.

Song Mingi was one of your best decisions yet one of your worst, just as joining the band was. Something about him was addicting. Perhaps it was his deep voice, his tall and slender figure, his bright smile that lit up the room no matter where you were.

Away games were always your favorite. You may not be able to perform at halftime as often, but cheering on the football team was enough. Besides, there was something exciting about wandering the stands of school stadiums previously unknown to you. Some schools, like the one you were visiting this night, had fancier concession stands than others.

Halftime finally hit, you stayed in place for a few minutes to take a look at the opposing team's band and judge their uniforms before meandering your way to the least busy concession stand.

You greeted the student manning the stand with a smile and a nod, taking a moment to skim over the dodgy whiteboard that served as a menu. You settled on a thing of fried oreos, 3 pieces to a boat. You handed the worker some amount of cash and told her to keep the change. It was pointless to try and find somewhere to sit so you settled down a matter of feet away, leaning against the brick wall of the buildings.

Before you could even take your first bite, a familiar voice caught your attention. Mingi had approached the booth, somehow evading being noticed by you up until that point.

“Ah, I'm sorry. We just sold the last of the oreos for the moment.” The student sighed and briefly checked her watch. “There'll be more ready in about 10 minutes… but you seem to be part of the band.”

Mingi nodded with understanding. “I'll have to be back in the stands by then. I'll just take a coke. Thank you!”

Now was your chance.

“Psssst, Mingi!” You half yelled, half whispered and motioned eagerly for him to come toward you. Mingi was quick to approach, fumbling with his bottle of soda.

“Yeah? What's up?”

“That was me… sorry. You wanna share?” You held the boat of fried oreos out as an offering.

“No, no! You spent your money on those. You should have them.”

“I insist.” You stared down at his gloved hands for a moment. “Would you… like some help with that?”

You had removed your black wool gloves and bulky gauntlets before heading to find food. A foresight that Mingi apparently lacked. He nodded shyly, almost embarrassed, and thanked you.

“Here, open.” You grabbed one of the oreos, using your other hand to hover underneath it to guard against crumbs. You leaned inward, allowing Mingi to take the cookie into his mouth. “I've already got my gloves off, don't wanna make you mess with yours.”

Those lips. Forever your greatest weakness. All he'd done was take food from your hand and all you could do was try not to stare. The kiss you shared a year before lingered in the back of your mind. Soft. They were so very soft. Pillowy and normally faintly flavored by whatever chapstick he'd managed to dig out of his bookbag. You couldn't forget the feeling and even now you regretted how fleeting the moment was.

“Hey,” Mingi awkwardly shifted his weight to one side. “Can we talk for a minute?”

You felt like your heart fell to your ass, suddenly

worried about the conversation that was yet to come. Was he angry, upset, confused? You didn't know.

Mingi led you to a corner he'd spotted when the band arrived on the field. The bright lights didn't quite reach through to dispel the darkness and the area was sparsely populated compared to the concessions.

“U-uhm…” It was unusual, the way Mingi was so seemingly anxious. Your typical charismatic musician that so confidently backed the drum line had disappeared, replaced by someone far more vulnerable.

“Your face is seriously red. You sick? Need me to tell the director that you need time out?” You cocked your head to the side with concern.

Mingi shook his head frantically and grabbed one of your hands. Forcing himself to hold your eye contact, he finally continued. “Iwannakissyouagain-”

“What…?” Whatever he'd said was spoken too quickly for you to process.

“I… want… to kiss you again.”

That was when you learned it wasn't one sided, the memory haunted him just as well. Though you didn't expect simply sharing your snacks to lead to a confession, you certainly weren't about to complain.

You gripped Mingi’s hand back, urging him to follow you as you hurried to hide under the home team’s bleachers. Not a word exchanged in the meantime. This side of the stadium housed the press box, meaning there was more solidity to the structure and more places to hide beneath.

Pressing your back against the wall, you snaked your hand up to rest on the back of Mingi’s neck.

“I missed you, Song Mingi.”

Any hesitation that plagued his mind was erased in an instant. Mingi's lips collided haphazardly with yours, his hands holding your waist. This, you thought, is what you'd needed for a year's time. This kiss was unlike your first, already starting intense. Mingi had no problem taking charge, chasing your lips whenever you pulled away like a man starved.

“Mmn,” You tapped the nape of his neck. “Need to breathe.”

Mingi was undeterred, fumbling with the zipper on the back of your uniform jacket. You shrugged it off of your shoulders, leaving it to drape off of your elbows and grant Mingi access to your neck.

“Shiiiit,” You whined against him. You had never given the uniform jacket design any thought but presently you couldn't be more relieved that once you put it back on, the mock neck would cover any marks. “Needed this so bad.”

Mingi's ministrations were sloppy, hungry, sucking and nibbling lightly on your sensitive skin. A shiver shot its way up his spine, leading him to let out a quiet moan. That was a sound you decided you could get used to.

“Can't take it, wanna touch you.” Mingi growled, becoming painfully aware of his growing erection. “I'll make it quick. Promise.”

“Mmk, anything, I'm yours.”

You rushed to remove your jacket entirely, discarding it to the side. You'd just have to handle the dust that undoubtedly covered it from the gravel layer. Mingi's jacket was soon to follow.

Your mouth gaped slightly, taking in the shape of Mingi's waist. Bibbers were tight, form fitting but so often hidden beneath your black and red jackets. You never realized just how slim his waist was but, now, you'd never forget it.

“Damn things.” Mingi grumbled, undoing the velcro and pulling down the zipper to his marching pants before assisting you with yours. There was no bothering with removing them entirely. Black tees and black shorts that laid just above the kneecap were standard for underneath the band's uniforms.

Mingi grabbed you firmly and flipped you around so that you had to brace yourself against the brick wall chest first. His strong arms held you tight against him, one around your waist and the other reaching over your chest and keeping you steady.

In this position, you couldn't see Mingi… but you could surely feel him. His breath was ragged against your neck with his hips grinding against your ass.

“Mingi, holy shit-” You didn't need to look to understand the considerable length of his cock. Four layers worth of fabric was too much, but at the same time so perfect.

Mingi’s arm situated on your waist slid downward, a gloved slipping beneath your waist band and swiftly finding your arousal. The sensation of the woolen gloves against your bare skin was almost cruel, too good and complemented by the unexpected skill Mingi possessed with his hands.

Low moans tumbled from deep in Mingi’s throat, sending shockwaves straight to your core. You'd heard him whine and groan plenty of times whenever he screwed up a formation for the nth time and on hot summer days when you were finally allowed a water break and moment in the shade. It was different to hear his familiar sounds in this manner. Despite the similarities, something felt more primal now.

Mingi was losing his control by this point, grating his aching cock hard against your figure and mumbling incoherently.

“I'm gonna cum, baby.” He nuzzled his face into you, resting his chin on the area just next to the back of your neck.

“Me too, keep going, cum for me.” You sacrificed one of your arms to muzzle your desperate moans. To be caught was one of the last things you needed.

Mingi broke first, a deep and drawn out whine tearing from him. He continued to rub himself despairingly into you, riding out his own orgasm while trying to keep up with you.

It didn't take long for you to follow in his wake. The building coil of pleasure building in your stomach finally snapped, drenching Mingi’s hand in your fluids. Your moan caught in your throat leaving you to choke back a cry.

For a moment, everything was quiet but the buzz of the nearby breaker boxes and the sound of your heaving chests.

“Fuck, thank you. Thank you so much.” Mingi praised and guided you both to rest on the cold ground. He grabbed your hand with his clean one and smiled brightly as if he hadn't just rocked your world in the midst of a football game. “Can we never keep ourselves away like we have been again?”

“Of course. You have no clue how long I've been yearning for you.” You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose you do now.

Only after kissing Mingi’s cheek did you scurry to gather the estranged components of your marching uniform. The game was back on, your bandmates wondering where in the world you could be.

“Mingi.” You whispered with realization, “Your glove.”

“Whatever,” He sighed. “Here's the story, ok?”

Mingi cobbled together some cover up. Some mostly coherent story about how you slipped and fell, dropping your drink leading to him accidentally putting his hand right in the puddle on the concrete. He only hoped they didn't question why your uniform was largely devoid of any liquid.

Reaching the away team's stands, one of the snares crumpled up a nearby napkin and flung it at Mingi’s face with expert aim.

“Dude, where the fuck have you two been?!”

If only he knew.

#song mingi smut #mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #song mingi scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez mingi smut #ateez imagines #[jo fucks ateez 🏴‍☠️]

156 notes · View notes

dronebiscuitbat · 6 months ago

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 3)

N followed Uzi at her side as they made their way through the maze of hallways that was the bunker. If he hadn't, he might have gotten lost.

“I think this place gets bigger every time I come here.” He pointed out, taking one step for every two of hers, he wasn't going to point that out though, lest she poke him.

Yes, poke, maybe shove or lightly punch. But he'd come to realize that when it came to the people she cared about, she didn't choose violence. Don't get him wrong, Uzi would often choose violence when it was an option, case in point; railgun. But when it came to him, and V to an extent, her mouth was the most dangerous thing about her.

That and maybe her tail, which did often actually bite.

“It's a maze on purpose, Dad thought it might throw you guys off to buy us time.” She hummed absent-mindededly, thinking as she lead him through yet another cross-section.

“It would definitely work on me. I'm already lost.” He laughed a little, looking over at her.

Her visor was lit up in an almost frown, eyebrows together in either concern or disappointment, her tongue was out again, which meant she was focused intently on something. N was always in awe of how she was always thinking, although she often overthought and made herself upset, he hoped that's not what she was doing.

His eyes drifted to the way she played with the ball joints of her own fingers, like she always had to have something in her hand, her tongue switched sides and her eyelights scrunched up, obviously trying to work through something in her head.

Cute… wait what?

“Oh! Crap I almost passed it. Here we are.” She stopped abruptly, causing N to nearly trip to avoid careening into her, there was a thick, fogged window looking into the nursery, where he could see a few blurry shapes of pillbabies recharging in their cribs.

“Ooooh! Babies!” N's eyes grew exceptionally wide, almost as if they had stars in them, his tail wagged behind him, his hands cupping his face and a squeal threatening to spill from his mouth.

“Yeah, probably here while thier parents are working. Come on, you can see them better inside.” She opened the heavy door with a swoosh, and a gust of sterilized air hit them both.

“I'm allowed inside? Wouldn't they… be afraid of me?” N took a step back, holding the wire of his tail in his hands, looking anywhere but her eyes. Thinking about how some of the workers still looked at him with fear.

“N, it's fine. And if they're not fine with it I'll make them fine.” Her tone shifted from soft to rough, and her fist balled to make her point. And, almost reluctantly, he followed her, head frantically taking in every single detail of the room.

The drone at the front desk wasn't paying attention. Wore glasses, and seemed to be from the same generation of drone as Uzi's Dad, with the slightly boxier body type typical from that generation. Her eyelights were a deep orange, and she was skimming through a magazine.

“Uh, Mrs. Rayn? It's Uzi, I'm back.” Uzi's voice seemed to immediately lack the bite it had a moment ago. And the elder drone peered over her glasses, first to Uzi, then to the disassembly drone awkwardly standing behind her. He smiled, trying not to look any kind of threatening. His tail wagging slightly.

“Not sure we can combine you two, and I'm not sure Khan would want me to…”

Oh robo-jesus-

“No! Uhm… No. I'm just here to pick up more oil! N wanted to see the babies…” Both of their faces exploded in blush, their eyes flicking over at each other briefly, which somehow made both their blushes far worse.

What would that even look like? Would they be a worker drone? A disassembly drone? Both? Would they have Uzi's eyes? His yellow ones? Inherit his white ones? Or would the colors mix and be brown? Or pink? Did it even work like that?

He should probably stop thinking about that…

“Ahhh, good! You two are a little young for that anyway. Uzi, you should have been good for another week! Is your condition getting worse?” She asked, and she immediately reminded N of a grandmother, voice soft, kindly, but crackly from age.

“No. N had to stay over at my house and was overheating, he needs a lot more than I do.” She gestured to him, which caused another nervous beaming smile to grace his face. He gave a small wave in return.

“I see…” Mrs. Rayn hummed, typing something up on the computer sitting in front of her. Every so often she would glance up at N, looking over her glasses, N felt as if he was being studied.

“Right, Uzi Doorman, upping your supply to five cans, instead of three. Just in case your “friend” happens to need to stay again.” She said as if she fully believed it would be happening more often, though neither young drone could discern why.

“N, was it?” She turned to him, making him jump, he nodded, his old worker programming forcing him to slightly bow, which would have been deeper had he not forcefully stopped himself.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied, taking a step forward, beads of sweat dripping down the inside of his visor.

“It's nice to meet you young man. If you ever need something, you come to me. Alright?” She smiled kindly at him, and his nerves immediately relaxed, and the next smile that came from him was far more natural.

“Thank you. I'll keep that in mind Ma’am”

“Well aren't you polite. Half the men here could learn a thing or two from you.” She gave a soft chuckle, motioning to the door that lead to the little dronelings.

“You're welcome to see them, just be careful. Let me go fetch what you need.” With that she was off towards the back, N noticed she heavily favored one foot over the other. Huh.

But an immediate distraction came in the form of pillbabies. He nearly sprinted, but felt Uzi grab his arm to stop him. Like it was a command from his own system, he stopped immediately.

“Careful, remember? Pills are made out of silicon, so they're squishy. They're also really sensitive to sound, so shhhh…” She explained, leading him into the nursery at a much slower pace. He nodded in understanding, keeping his tail tight against the floor to keep it safe and away from the tiny dronelings.

After realizing he was going much slower, she released him, finding a seat in one of the waiting chairs and crossing her arms, watching him as he made his way over to the closest baby.

It was so, so small, which he knew, but seeing one up close instead of in pictures didn't do it justice, the whole thing could fit in the palm of his hand. This one had white eyelights, but was currently in sleep mode, three little z's appearing and blinking on the little ones visor.

He smiled warmly, suppressing the urge to touch the little pill. He didn't want to disturb it, or hurt it for that matter.

The next one was green, and while it wasn't asleep it also didn't seem to be too concerned with his presence, too focused on dimming and relighting its eyes, N found himself chuckling, but moving on.

The last droneling was tucked into the corner, and as he approached he noticed that this one was actively looking at him, intently actually. And their eyes were a deep lavender, a shade lighter than Uzi's.

“Hey kiddo…” He wasn't sure what made him want to speak to it, maybe it was the eyelights, or the way it was staring at him. But he got the impression it wanted his attention.

The baby giggled, a smile appearing on it's screen as it began to rock from side to side. If it had arms, they would be reaching up at him.

“You're a happy one.” He felt Uzi come up next to him, her being a fair bit warmer than other drones, and he'd nearly memorized the sound of her footsteps by now.

“This one looks like how you did!” He pointed out quietly, trying his best not to disturb the others, Uzi didn't reply, instead leaning over the side of the metal crib.

“She's unclaimed… look.” She pointed to a tag at the foot of the crib. A pink tag saying “unclaimed” mocked him. Dang, how'd he not notice that?

“Oh… what does that mean?”

“It means her parents haven't come back to pick her up yet.” Uzi sounded concerned, her hand hovered over the pills chassis, before looking even more concerned.

“She's too warm, no one's fed her in awhile…” she looked from side to side, as if making sure no one was around, before gently picking up the small pill in her arms, something that seemed practiced, and natural.

“Oh no… do you think something happened to her parents?” N now shared her concern, although a part of him felt extremely giddy watching his normally edgy best freind hold a baby so gently. He wasn't sure why, but it made his core feel warm.

“Unless V went back on her word. I don't see what could have happened.” Uzi replied back, seemingly instinctually rocking the baby gently, one hand on top of the little one, holding her steady.

The little pill continued to smile up at her, giggling but eyelights getting droopy, and she stopped trying to roll to either side. His best freinds eyes softened, a small smile creeping up onto her face.

“So…?”

“You can sometimes make a baby accidentally… leaving a portion of your code in someone. She might have been dumped here after her parents got her a body…” She explained, glancing around the room, searching for something.

“Theres a bottle station over there, she needs some oil. Could you bring me one?” She motioned to a dispenser near the door, the picture was of a plastic bottle with a very narrow black tip.

“Yeah, okay.” He closed the distance rather quickly, clicking the very clearly marked button on the dispenser and a very small plastic bottle fell into his hand. As well as… a siphon?

“What now?” He asked, handing it to her. And she sighed, lifting up her hoodie and undershirt to expose bare chassis.

N’s head snapped away, being reminded of her displeasure of him being naked, Uzi looked up at him and looked nervous, and embarrassed.

“I'm not stripping in front of you N, I'm trying to open a panel on my side.” She explained, holding the baby in one hand, and opening a small panel on her side with the other, sticking the siphon into it, which caused her to jolt.

“Agh… been awhile.” She murmured, pumping the siphon with the hand pump, after a few seconds, warm oil began to fill the bottle.

“Woah… what?” N was mesmerized, watching her fill the bottle with her own oil, and also at the ease and familiarity she seemed to do it with. It was also his first introduction to a side panel, did all the workers have those? He knew he didn't.

“I used to volunteer here. When mom was still alive. We both did.” She explained, sounding rather sad for a moment, before shaking her head. “Babies need warm oil, usually filtered by their mother since they can't yet. But, I'm all that's here right now so…”

The bottle was filled, and she pinched the siphon, wincing as she pulled it out, before sighing.

“Ugh, that wasn't painful before…” She trailed off, moving her hoodie back in place and training her eyes back on the droneling. Softly scratching the silicon of the chassis.

The baby made a raspberry, seemingly enjoying the feeling.

“Yeah… it tickles, right?” Her voice suddenly went sugary sweet, so much so N felt a blush light up his face, it was like it was made of caramel, gentle and kind and deeply maternal. He wasn't even aware her voice could go that soft.

“There's that panel.” She opened a small panel on the pillbaby's front, where there was a small opening where N assumed the bottle would go.

She tipped the bottle into the opening, and the baby's eyes flickered shut, seemingly enjoying the coolant, Uzi seemed to be lost in the moment, nodding her head as a coo that sounded almost unnatural came out of her mouth.

N stayed uncharacteristically silent, watching the scene before him while an ocean of different emotions ran through him. Curiosity, both about pillbaby anatomy and Uzi's time with her mom. Awe, at her competence at this, how confidently she had taken control of a concerning situation. And how soft her voice was whenever she spoke to the droneling, it made the sensors on the back of his neck stand up, filling him with a warmth he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

“Oh! There you two are. I thought you'd have had your fill by now.” Mrs. Rayn popped in though the door with a bag in her hand, five canisters of oil bouncing around inside, her face fell on Uzi, who was still looking at her task; feeding the baby.

“Well that's a sight I'd never thought I'd see again…” She said, trailing off when Uzi looked up sheepishly. A blush invading her face as she caught up with reality.

“She was too warm, old insinct took over. Sorry, I know non-volunteers aren't supposed to donate…”

“No it's quite alright, that one was printed out about a week ago. Parents were young, younger than you two. They haven't been back.” She looked sad, hobbling over to the two younger drones, and motioning to take the baby from Uzi's arms.

For a split second, N saw Uzi try to pull away, as if she wanted to keep the baby away from her. But that was gone a moment later, and she placed the droneling into her arms, the look on her face was indecipherable.

“It happens sometimes. Another week and she'll be put up for adoption, where someone who really wants her can take care of her.” The bottle was empty, and the pillbaby seemed to now be dozing off, purple eyelights dimming.

“Thank you for donating. My oil is getting a little stale at my age!” She laughed, though still smiled at them kindly, before looking at N curiously.

“Did you want to hold her?” She asked and her jumped in surprise. Raising his hands like he was defending himself.

“No! Well yes, but I'm afraid I'll hurt her and-” the baby was placed in his arms, shutting him up immediately, well aside from the “Oh Biscuits…” that came out in a whimper as he cradled them.

Uzi was right, she was warm, but N's sensors indicated she was beginning to cool down, she was also right about her being slightly squishy, as he felt her vents taking in air, and her silicon skin indenting even on a surface as soft as his overcoat sleeve.

He felt as if he had something priceless and oh so very fragile in his hands and he froze, his brain stuck between “this is the cutest thing in the world” and “don't screw up, please don't screw up”.

“You getting sleepy?” He asked, he didn't notice both woman next to him smile at his voice, or the way his tail began to wag as the baby sleepily smiled at him. He rocked them, much like Uzi had done, and slowly three z's appeared on her visor, and she rolled into the fur of his coat.

His core felt heavy, like it was made of solid lead. He felt tears prick on the edges of his visor as he looked up. Holding her close, he could feel a tiny core buzzing.

“She's the cutest thing ever!” He whisper-screamed. Causing both women to smile at him. Uzi's somehow looked bigger, with a look in her eyes that N hadn't seen before, but it made him swell with a warm sense of pride.

“You have good instinct, I hear it in your voice.” Mrs. Rayn said, smiling almost as if she knew something he didn't, though it didn't matter, his eyes were fixed on the droneling in his arms once again.

“I don't… understand how anyone could leave her.” At this, he felt something else rise in his chest, something angry, and protective, still warm but almost unpleasantly so.

“Young people make mistakes, sometimes they rush into things they're not ready for.” She replies sadly, Uzi looked away at her words, crossing her arms, her face falling into something that looked deliberative if not sad.

“Does she have a name?” He asked, reluctantly handing the small child back to the older woman. He could almost still feel the little ones core buzzing against him.

“Tera is what I've been calling her. But once she's adopted that's bound to change.”

“Tera…” He said under his breath, as if tasting the word, a small smile broke through. His eyes lingered on the sleeping pillbaby, before they landed on Uzi, who was taking the bag from Mrs. Rayn with a very polite “Thank you.”

Uzi was beginning to head towards the door, bag in hand, waving goodbye to Mrs. Rayn, who was placing Tera back into her crib. N followed, but not before giving a little wave to the tiny pill.

“Goodnight Tera.”

Next ->

#md uzi #md n #serial designation n #biscuitbites #nuzi #murder drones #murder drones uzi #murder drones n #murder drones nuzi #md nuzi #uzi doorman #n and uzi #breaking my fingers at the speed im getting words out of my brain #fankid?#maybe?#they're in love your honor

81 notes · View notes

baddest-batchers · 6 months ago

Text

Learning All the Time

here is a Tech x fem!reader idea that’s been living in my head for the past few days. enjoy, loves~💕

SFW, brief description of kissing, fast feelings, mutual pining, lots of fluff

thank you @techwrecker for beta reading for me again and for the so needed encouragement to finish this and not scrap it!

As a mechanic, it made sense for you to already know your way around a modified Omicron class attack shuttle. And you did, for the most part, but this particular ship that belonged to the most interesting batch of clones you had ever met was just as unique as they were. Tech offered a datapad to you containing the Marauder’s schematics with all of the modifications he had implemented thus far in between his squad’s various missions upon your arrival to the hangar on Kamino. Upon a brief skim of them, you realized there was a lot to memorize before you would even attempt to repair so much as a door panel. In the weeks that followed your joining of Clone Force 99, you dedicated most of your time to committing the ship schematics to memory, however, you noticed this was beginning to become more precarious with every moment you spent with the Marauder’s resident genius and pilot.

Since joining the squad of unique clones, you quickly realized just how much you enjoyed each of the Batch’s company, but in Tech’s presence was by far your favorite place to be. He was exceptionally brilliant, quick witted, and oh so endearing with the way he was constantly pushing his goggles back up his nose every so often. You were smitten with him, quirks and all.

Swiveling in the copilot’s seat you dropped the datapad to your lap and brought your fingers to massage your temples, hoping to knead away the growing haze in your brain. Your thoughts continued to flit to Tech as you futilely tried to study. You realized that you had spent more time day dreaming about him than committing the ship’s schematics to memory.

If he was showing you something he happened to be working on you listened intently to him and silently hoped he knew you were genuinely interested in his work. Assisting him on repairs was by far one of your favorite pastimes, though. More often than not, Tech would ask for your thoughts on a particular modification and then you would end up working on it together. It was butterfly inducing to be wedged under the panels of the Marauder with him. On more than one occasion you’d end up brushing up against his arm or your fingers would briefly make contact with his gloved palms while handing him tools. All of this was more than enough to distract you from your studies of the ship’s schematics.

You didn’t hear Tech when he asked you about the ship’s continuing issue with its inertia dampeners. Still kneading your temples and lost in thought, Tech said your name again and this time his voice pulled you out of your daydreaming.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You flinched, sitting more upright from your relaxed posture in the copilot chair.

“I asked if you had any thoughts as to what could be causing the issue with the inertia dampeners.” Tech replied as he turned to look at you in his seat.

“Are you quite well?” He asked, his entire body swiveling now in the pilot seat to face you while taking in your frustrated expression.

“I’m sorry, Tech, I swear I’ve been studying the ship’s schematics. I’m just—“ You let out a short breath, “I’m..a little distracted, I guess.” You say while swiping through the Marauder’s schematics once again and hoping that he couldn’t perceive the way he flustered you with so much as a glance in your direction these days.

“There is no need to apologize. Perhaps you should rest before we drop out of hyperspace and arrive at Kamino.” Tech said kindly.

Noticing his full attention now turned to you, your eyes found his face again. His eyes had that kind look to them that softened his faint smile lines. Before Tech could catch the growing blush that was starting to spread across your face, you hastily dropped your attention to the datapad in your lap.

“No, I’d rather stay here and continue to study, if that’s alright.” You offer back to him.

“And I promise I’ll figure out what’s wrong with the dampeners once we land, I just need to—“

“There is no need to do so right away, sarad.” Just as quickly as the Mando’a term slipped from Tech’s lips, he quickly turned his attention back to the ship’s controls. Before he could formulate an explanation for using the word, both you and Tech heard a familiar low chuckle from the cockpit entrance.

Crosshair’s lithe form leaned on one side of the entrance, arms crossed and a toothpick slotted between his lips.

“When are you going to tell her, Tech?” The sniper’s mirth was palpable. How long had he been standing there?

“Tell me what?” You looked from Crosshair to Tech.

“What did you call me, Tech?” You asked innocently, truly not knowing the meaning of the word he had used.

“He called you ‘sarad.’” Crosshair smirked while shifting his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. He was definitely enjoying this way too much for Tech’s comfort.

Your expression didn’t change, you were not very familiar with Mando’a, knowing only a few words much to your own surprise being that you’d spent a considerable amount of time around clones.

“Ah, well, it means—“ Tech began.

“It means ‘flower’.” Crosshair cut to it before Tech could uncharacteristically stammer out his reply.

Your jaw went a little slack in surprise and the only word you could manage to form was a quiet “oh.”

Tech shifted uncomfortably in his seat before shooting his brother a look of annoyance that Crosshair waved off as he walked toward the back of the Marauder.

Something in your stomach fluttered at the realization of Tech’s use of the Mando’a word and it’s possible implication. Before he could begin to speak again, you smiled and tipped your head to one side, trying to catch his avoidant gaze.

“Tech?” You called his name in the sweetest voice he’d ever heard his name said. A sudden burst of courage moved your hand to gently rest on Tech’s knee, stopping him from facing away from you. Butterflies soared in your stomach at the feel of him under your hand.

“You know how I said I was distracted earlier?” You said slowly, your newfound courage pushing you further. Hesitantly, you removed your hand from his knee while inching yourself to the edge of your seat.

“Yes, I do recall you saying that.” Tech affirmed, eyes dropping from your face to his knees that were mere inches from yours.

“Well..it’s you..you are what’s been distracting me the past few weeks. The way you talk about the things you are interested in, with so much excitement and enthusiasm. How you are always willing to teach me something new while we’re working together. How kind you always are with your brothers…and with me.” Your words hit Tech like a gust of warm summer wind on Kashyyyk.

“If that isn’t a clear enough confession then here it is, plain and simple: I like you so very much, Tech.” You finally say, after all these weeks of mulling over how fast and hard you had fallen for him. It was out in the open, the ball was in his court now, and your heart laid bare for him to see. You knew he could see the blush that had spread over your face and this made you drop your eyes to your hands that were now planted firmly just above your knees.

Tech’s eyes slowly drifted over your features, as if to be sure you meant what you had just said. He pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose.

“I rarely find myself at a loss for words, this time being one of few that I am able to remember.” Tech said slowly. While he had his suspicions, Tech was now fully faced with the pleasant realization that his own pining after you was mutual. It shocked him a bit at how quickly he had fallen for you and the circumstances surrounding your confession of affection was almost overwhelming him.

Looking up at him now in slight surprise, his admission pulled a soft giggle, a sound like music to his ears, from you which gave Tech the push he needed to finally close the gap between you.

Knees now touching, his thumb and forefinger placed just so on and under your chin, Tech tipped your face up ever so slightly so that your lips pressed gently to his. Warmth blossomed in your chest at his touch and kiss. You could hardly believe this moment was real. His mouth moved slowly, almost reverently, against your own. You brought your hands to rest on his chest plate, the feel of the smooth plastoid grounding you in this moment. You committed every sensation to memory. This was a moment you knew you’d never forget.

Tech finally, after what felt like a blissful eternity, pulled away slowly but not fully breaking contact with you, leaving his knees still touching yours.

“I believe my feelings for you to be mutual.” He said in a hushed tone, knowing Hunter could most likely feel the bubbling energy radiating from the two of you from the furthest corner of the Marauder.

You smiled at Tech while bringing your hand to your chest, feeling your heart pound inside your ribs. The silence was comfortable for a moment, just you and him looking at each other with love and admiration and mutual understanding.

After another moment, you finally broke the sweet silence, “Hey, Tech?”

“Yes, mesh’la?” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

This Mando’a word you did know. It meant ‘beautiful’ and his use of it made the butterflies in your stomach soar yet again and a smile form on your lips.

“What kind of sarad do I remind you of?” You asked softly while leaning just a little bit closer into his space.

With your question, Tech lit up into a detailed explanation of a flower he once encountered on a brief shore leave several rotations ago. His voice was so soothing and the kindness in his eyes shown even brighter as he spoke. You knew you would never tire of listening to him or of seeing his eyes shine for the rest of forever.

•••

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb tech #tech x fem!reader #sw fic #baddest batcher writes

95 notes · View notes

leavemeslowly · 7 months ago

Text

Autobiography of Red

Pairing: Eddie Horniman x Susie Glass

Wordcount: 1,597

Warnings: Explicit, +18, Smut, Masturbation, Emotionally Repressed, Sad Ending, Crying, Possessiveness, Dirty Talk, Did I mention it is sad?

Summary: "I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it."* The London Eye stood still at this ungodly hour. Susie was alone in her apartment but hoped she wasn't.

Susie was not an early bird, but she was forced to become one. She would rather nap for a bit longer. Today, she briefly closed her eyes to say goodbye to her nighttime sleep. The last moment of peace was not given because her mind unhelpfully supplied the daily schedule. It included lengthy dealings on the farm at Halstead Manor. They also included a particular ex-military, aristocratic soldier. The thirteenth Duke of Halstead.

She buried herself deeper under the sheets and remembered how they danced in the living room of the manor. The lingering touches, subtle glances and drinking more and more just to loosen up and not bother with the consequences of all the exchanged gestures.

The next day, Eddie asked her what she was still doing there as if he had not led her to a bedroom on the first floor and had not helped her out of her shoes. She remembered the kiss left on her forehead. Remembered how his fingers slipped down her bare arm sticking out from under the sheets.

Susie was on the edge of asking him to stay, rest his head on the other pillow, and embrace her body, before she completely forget what it means to be close to another person. But, she shut her mouth tightly. Her eyes closed and she heard doors closed behind Eddie.

It was time for daydreams to end. Susie stared for a moment at the London Eye, which stood still at this ungodly hour.

Later, she bit her lip, walking in front of her vast closet, and trying to decide what to wear. She thought about a nice three-piece suit in deep navy. On some days, she just needed an extra boost of confidence to cover up her uncertainty and doubts.

The clothes had to speak for her, wordlessly explaining that Susie was qualified to do what she did and that she was an authority in her own right without her dad having the last word. She is not a blind follower of his rules, but she is their maker, too. Susie is writing them in wet ink, and whoever disobeys her ends up with her pen sticking out of his eye.

She smirked, picturing her future enemies punished through that unconventional method. There is always space to refine one's game.

Nevertheless, she moved her sight to the other part of her closet, where various shirts were hung. She has not worn silk for a while now. Her collection was too diverse to let it lie unused.

She took a moment longer to consider her options and switched to choosing a lingerie set. Of course, today, there was no need to fuss with anything too frivolous. One of the white drawers hid her plain but comfortable bras, which she would wear on a daily basis.

A plain Skims set would do the work, but once she had it on, she felt too casual, so mediocre that her skin started to itch as if it wanted to be peeled off. The set blended with her pale skin tone and made her smoother, almost perfect. Only freckles splattered on her legs and arms betrayed an extra layer of material on her body.

Her resourcefulness, more often than not, was a hindrance to fulfilling her own needs.

Susie turned back to the drawers and opened another one. The contests of it, their textures, colours, and variety of patterns differed diametrically. She gently slid her fingers through them and stopped on the dark burgundy set.

Her mind drifted to the day they stole a green Lamborghini, and it almost backfired spectacularly. She also remembered what she wore on that day, a red suit with a belt tightly wrapped around her waist. A few buttons of the shirt were left open to counterbalance the heavy material. Her black hair was falling in curls down her arms. That was one of her most successful outfits to date, but she would never suspect another impact it had.

Eddie had never stared at her this intensely, this darkly. She felt his eyes on her, but he was not persistent in confirming their decision or agreeing on something. On that day, he was sliding his gaze down her arms, cleavage, and thighs. How could he think she did not feel it?

A thrill of excitement ran down her spine whenever she caught him looking everywhere but not directly into her eyes. She was not intimidated, but her light complexion blushed prominently under her makeup. He might be obvious, but she did not have to be.

She took the burgundy set out of the drawer. She slipped out of boring Skims and slowly, savouring this moment, put on thin, heavily laced panties. Then she fastened her balcony bra behind the back and finally clipped the garter belt in its place. Her light skin was picking through meshed insertions. Standing in front of the mirror, Susie slowly, almost teasingly, dragged her hands down to be sure that everything was smoothed out and in place.

She imagined what Eddie's face would look like now. She would mock him: 'How do you like me now? Am I good enough?'

He would not be embarrassed or lost but rather intrigued, silently watching her while leaning back against the doorframe. Susie would present for him, put her hands behind her neck and raise her hair to uncover more of a scandalously white skin. She was anxious to imagine his voice, so he would still be gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

'Come closer, Eddie. Don't be a stranger.'

He would move only with her permission. Before stopping right behind her, he would shed his black jacket and drop it off on the sofa in the middle of the closet. Eddie would gently grab her arms and put them down. His fingers would dig into her arms as if he was ensuring she was real, all his to touch and hold.

'Susan, darling' His deep and rough voice whispered straight to her ear would make her legs tremble, so he had to ground her and embrace her unsteady body. `Do you want me to watch you?'

Susie would shut her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by his hands roaming down her tight stomach.

'Yes, Eddie, if you like it.’ She whispered shyly.

His response was a pained groan and his hands squeezing her ass under the lace. Susie would moan loudly responding to his possessive marking of her body.

`I fucking love it, baby. Show me that you love it, too. I know you want to.' She nodded and rested the back of her head on his chest while her manicured nails skimmed down her stomach and under the lace of her panties. `Tell me how it feels, love. I need to know if you feel good.'

Susie would be pulsing and hot, sweat forming on her hairline. She would open her lips and breathe out shakily, letting out the faintest cries of pleasure. His arms would make her hotter and deliciously restrain her movements. Still, his posture would support her like a wall she could rest against when her body was slipping out of her control.

`Open your eyes, Susie.'

On his request, they snapped wide open. He was there, right behind Susie, with one hand delicately cupping her breast. It felt so right that Susie wanted to cry. Her cheeks were bright red, and her lips were swollen from biting into them. Eddie's dark eyes bore into her while she was slowly touching herself.

`Let me help you, please, allow me.'

He did not wait for her permission this time. His large hand slid under hers and she whined as if it was what she craved all along. Susie's nails would dig into his forearm, feeling his increasing movements, his hardness digging into her back and fingers of his other hand sliding into her mouth. She licked around them, promising him the things she intended to do. She felt that for her it was just a matter of a few more flicks of his fingers.

`Let go for me, Susie.' He was mumbling into her neck now, lips lightly brushing against it. Her reflection in the mirror was dishevelled, her hips bucking into his touch. `Next time, we will do it against this mirror. With London behind our backs. With your tits pressed to the mirror and your lipstick spread across it.'

Susie nodded, hearing these words. They were vulgar and tempting, and she knew they could not be real. Those were her darkest, deepest fantasies. Eddie's black eyes were staring at her now, and she was on the edge of falling.

`Then, I will do what you want me to. In your bed, I will take care of you, Susie. We will fuck nice and slow. You will fall in love with me and maybe not feel so lonely and pathetic.'

Susie rapidly turned her back to the mirror and fell on the floor. She remained there for several minutes, shaking and breathing hard. Tears were burning her eyes, but Susie could not let them fall. She will not let her stupid dreams and fantasies ruin her picture-perfect image.

Finally, when she calmed down, she raised her head. Just as before, the London Eye was standing still.

Susie stood up and changed into Skims. Then, she put on the first clothes she found in her wardrobe.

On her way out, Susie threw the burgundy set into the bin.

*Quote by Anne Carson. The title is also taken from one of her books.

Notification list:

@omgpurpleann @cult-of-escapism @simp-ly-writes @bass41ife @theamazinggracie

@nonbinary-blog @leksii @dont888 @starflame

@booklover1814 @exxodusmo @afangirlfandom @your-mums-nuts @coffee-and-casefiles

@kassa-stardust @romanogers @crescendoofstars @sglassxblog

@wintress1989 @mesillusionssousecstasy @gabbyabby89 @beautifultragedygiver @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

54 notes · View notes

booasaur · 9 months ago

Note

Have you seen this french soa "Ici tout commence" ? There's a wlw story going on that's pretty nice! Lots of tropes ! (strangers -> bestfriends -> lovers, the socially anxious introverted x popular extroverted mean girl, fake dating....) If anyone wants to watch their story, you can ask to follow @itsoiise on twitter they have the videos with eng subtitles :) I hope you have a great day !

Hi, yeah, as I briefly mentioned the other day, I am watching it, but still pretty behind.

Instead of just watching a cut of the ship's scenes, I downloaded all the eps from this current season and the provided French closed captioning, and then machine translated those to get English subtitles that mooostly work. Then I just started watching from the first ep.

As usual with soaps, even though I'm usually jumping in for just the ship and will often skim to their parts, I like to know the full context and do eventually get sucked into the rest of the stories, so at this point I've finished Teyssier's flareup, the Lionel/Kelly/Malik/Ambre love square, just completed the David abuse story, and am now fully entering the Carla pregnancy arc. That's in November, so I still have about three more months to catch up to.

I'm surprised you mentioned fake dating for Carla and Berenice too, since she's right now in the middle of fake dating Souleymane! But please don't give me any other spoilers, I know that currently, as in right now in February, there's a lot going on with them but I've blacklisted everything so I'm actually staying pretty spoiler-free, except knowing there is activity, or at least there was on Berenice's side, that's about how much I picked up when this first popped up on my radar.

But anyway, so I love them already! Their friendship really is a perfect mix of opposites attract, like you said, the confident mean girl and the socially anxious introvert, but like any great relationship, that's just a fraction of their dynamic.

Carla being so outgoing and without any respect for boundaries that she quickly bulldozed through Berenice's, who would have never reached out first, while Berenice being so quiet is what made Carla unthreatened enough to seek her out and let her in, that's how their differences put them together but what's kept them together are all their similarities. Berenice's no doormat and her light sarcasm and humor and willingness to call Carla out are actually what make Carla really like her, and it's Carla's very occasional kindness (mostly drawn out by and for Berenice) that made her reassure Berenice at the very start and convince her to stay.

Each makes the other a better person; Carla pushes Berenice to be more outgoing and not stuck in her head or her screens so much while Berenice pushes Carla to be nicer and fairer to everyone. If they weren't already a ship I'd be shipping them!

Most of all, they genuinely like each other! It's funny that individually they're both the type to be isolated from the rest of the school, Carla too spoiled and snobby, Berenice too withdrawn, but they get along perfectly. All the contrasting and complementary parts of their personalities makes them always happy to just hang out with each other, on the same wavelength but never boring and predictable. They're just so playful and at ease and comfortable with each other, it's wonderful. :)

#replies #femslash related stuff #Anonymous #sent on 20240131 #5 #ici tout commence #carlice #that's the ship name?#the second half...

69 notes · View notes

sapphires-and-silver-linings · 2 years ago

Text

Half-Life | Chapter Three

There was something to be said about loneliness, though: at least it was predictable.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Sexual Tension, Blood, Body Horror

Notes: It's been a minute since I last posted, but this chapter was a doozy to write! Second longest chapter I've ever churned out, which is insane to me lol. Anyway, I hope you guys like this installment! I was blushing and squealing and kicking my feet while writing it lmao. Leon makes me so sad, but these interactions between him and Bunny (the reader) are SO CUTE. I'd love it if you guys told me your favorite lines or parts in general in the comments! Feedback is what helps keep me motivated!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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

It had been a full day since you left, and Leon loathed to admit just how miserable he felt.

He had spent the rest of the prior afternoon with Wolfie hunting for small game, the crow barely able to satiate his hunger.

He always liked the hunt, as he allowed himself to be in the moment, focused solely on his senses and cutting off the tide of emotions that threatened to pull him under.

The distraction didn’t last long, however.

He had killed a couple squirrels and another crow, hoping for something a little more substantial, when he came across a rabbit—a plump one with brown fur—and the reminder of you and the note you left stopped him mid-strike, the animal easily able to escape his normally deadly grasp.

He cut his losses after that, deciding he didn’t want to hunt anymore. He split his meager spoils with Wolfie as he always did, and paced his house until nightfall, his thoughts rampant and his mood sour.

He tried to sleep it off but tossed and turned instead (though that wasn’t exactly an irregular occurrence for him).

And now here he was, sitting in his boat in the middle of the lake and spearing any fish that dared to skim the surface of the water, using his tail and those four spidery appendages he had re-released from their place on his spine specifically for the task.

He didn’t like to keep them out for the sake of his own humanity, but the skin of his back rippled and ached when they were confined for too long.

Ten years and he was still uncomfortable in his own body.

He hated it.

He had a growing pile of fish sitting in a bucket before him, reveling in the fact that at least he’d be eating well for the day, briefly pausing his surveillance of the water to snack on one of the scaly creatures.

He wondered what you must be up to right now. Probably already halfway across the globe, bound for home. He wanted to ask you how you’d go about keeping the public from bothering him, but he had been so preoccupied with getting to know you, he had forgotten.

He questioned idly whether or not you would keep to your word, but he supposed it was out of his hands now.

And, for some reason, he trusted you.

It was laughable, almost, how quickly he gave in the moment you didn’t budge from his scare tactics. He had become so inherently suspicious since the events that transpired in Raccoon City, as well as what occurred right here in this village a decade prior, so it shocked him how easily you blew right through his mental defenses.

To be fair to himself—which he often wasn’t—you had caught him so utterly off guard, he had no precedence to follow. No one else had gone that completely against common sense when faced with his monstrous form, and he simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. Besides, he was so starved for social interaction, he couldn’t stop himself from leaping at the opportunity to relish it.

He wanted the whole ordeal to be enough to pull him through to his plotted end, but he thought it was deeply unfair that he only craved more. More conversation. More attention. More affection.

It would have been easier if you had just run.

There was something to be said about loneliness, though: at least it was predictable. At least it was safe.

His inner ramblings were suddenly cut short when he heard a strange sound from the distance. There were footsteps again, but something else he couldn’t quite place—something that rumbled.

His first thought was a vehicle and panic immediately set in, causing him to paddle back to land as quickly as possible.

He wondered if you had broken your part of the deal and alerted others to his presence. Maybe he had been wrong to trust you, after all.

He cursed himself under his breath.

He made it back to shore, the footsteps and that strange sound coming to a halt somewhere too close for comfort. It was in the direction of his house, where he had left Wolfie to dutifully await his return.

If anything happened to his dog, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, praying to a god he no longer believed in that whoever trespassed wasn’t here to cause harm.

He bolted through the woods, dodging between the trees with practiced ease until he was skidding to a halt in the brush beside his home.

The sight that greeted him baffled him to his core.

There, just at his front door, was Wolfie, tail wagging happily as he sat on his haunches. But what really caught his eye was a figure standing above the dog, reaching out to feed him what looked like a treat from their hand.

And, when they turned to face Leon’s direction, the sound of him bounding through the forest catching their attention, he realized the person on his doorstep…

Was you.

“Leon!” you called jovially as he revealed himself from the tree line. “I was wondering where you were!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he questioned, his tone harsher than he meant it.

You didn’t seem phased, however, as you replied, “I figured I was due for a vacation. Decided to stay in the country for another week.”

“Doesn’t exactly explain why you came back here, though.”

“Well, I told you I wanted to explore the area more, didn’t I? But don’t worry, I didn’t come empty-handed.” You stepped aside and swept your arm behind you, revealing a large metal wagon stacked with all sorts of items.

So that was the strange noise he heard.

“This wasn’t in our agreement,” he stated, sounding more annoyed than he actually felt. If anything, he was glad you came back. But he worried about what exactly it would entail if you did stay with him. He then added, conjuring up as much disdain as possible to make a point, “You should leave me alone.”

You raised a brow at him, skeptical. “I don’t think you mean that, Leon.”

“Oh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He stood to his full height like he had the moment you first met, narrowing his bloodred eyes while he tilted slightly forward, as if setting up to lunge.

You seemed fed up with his clearly empty threats as you stepped up to him, hands placed on your supple hips in defiance. “Because you’re lonely and I’m the only person you’ve met in the past decade that didn’t run away screaming at the sight of you.”

He scoffed. “Oh, so you’re bothering me again out of the goodness of your own heart, then?”

“Maybe…” You glanced at your feet for a moment as you found the words to say, “And it’s also possible I came back because I find you interesting. This could be mutually beneficial, you know.”

“Interesting?” he repeated dubiously. He felt a pang of disappointment as he looked down at you. “Am I really just some specimen for you to study? Is that what this is to you?”

Your eyes widened at his accusation, throwing your hands up in the air. “Oh my god, of course not! Sure, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fascinated by your… quirks… but that’s not the only reason I came back.”

“You mean to use me as a field guide for your little hiking trip?”

“Well, that too. But still not it.”

“Then why?”

You seemed almost embarrassed as you looked away from him, finally admitting, “I like you as a person, Leon. I enjoyed spending time with you and thought you might have felt the same. I… I’m sorry if I overstepped. I can leave if that's what you want.”

Leon was stunned by your words, unable to do more than gawk at you as you awaited his response.

Realizing you might not get one, you nodded, crestfallen. “Right, yeah. This was a bad idea. I’ll just—I’ll just get out of your hair, then.”

You turned to grab the wagon and make your exit when Leon wrapped his claws gingerly around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You gazed back at him, searching his face for an answer.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to say,” he told you honestly. Leon almost always had a cheesy one-liner or a snarky quip at the ready, but not for the first time since meeting you, he was speechless.

What could he even tell you, though? That he was thinking about you since you left? That he found himself missing you after only knowing you a day? You must already find him pathetic as is. He didn’t want to exacerbate it.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you responded, a sad smile alighting your pretty face. The thought that he caused it made his stomach twist in a knot. “I was being presumptuous. I shouldn’t have bothered you again.”

You tried to pull away once more but he wouldn’t release his hold, feeling incredibly stupid with how badly he was handling this. “No, it’s fine. I want…” He swallowed, then, unable to meet your eye as he adjusted what was about to leave his mouth, “I don’t mind if you stay a little while longer.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, gripping his wrist and squeezing it affectionately. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” He stared down at your small hand wrapped around him, the warmth emanating from it distracting in a way he found both disarming and comforting. His eyes trailed up your arm to your face, glad to find the once dejected expression had been replaced with a gentle sort of contentment.

You were anything but predictable, and this situation was far from safe, but Leon had to admit… meeting you was the best thing that had happened to him in a long, long time.

Wolfie brushed up against your leg, probably looking for another treat, and the spell was broken. The two of you quickly pulled apart, chuckling awkwardly.

Leon forced himself to look away from you again—not wanting to linger for too long—when his gaze fell upon the wagon once more, curiosity piqued. “So, what exactly’s in there?”

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, a grin on your face as you began pulling things out of the small vehicle. “I come bearing gifts!”

With gusto, you listed off the items as you grabbed them, “Brought groceries for me, though I wouldn’t mind sharing, of course! And some water, too, cos I don’t exactly trust drinking from the area. Not too keen on getting a parasite.” You paused after that, eyes wide in realization. “No offense!”

He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “None taken, I promise.”

“Right, moving on,” you continued, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “I also got myself an air mattress so you can keep your bed and I don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“Not exactly sure how any of those things are gifts if they’re for you.”

“Hold on, Leon, I’m getting there,” you admonished light-heartedly. “The gifts are next.”

You then pulled out a dog bed with an array of chew toys and bags of treats set inside, as well as a box of various books. “Some things for Wolfie, as every good boy deserves, and since you told me you don’t have anything to read, I grabbed a bunch of random stuff from the local bookstore. Don’t be too harsh on what I picked, though, cos I had no idea what you’d be interested in.”

Leon wondered if he would ever get used to your kindness toward him. To not only provide nice things for his aging pet but to bring him something to read after off-handedly mentioning he was short on entertainment.

A memory tugged at the edges of his mind, one he thought he buried a long time ago.

It was in the days following his parents’ deaths, forced out of his home and prepped to be sent into foster care. He had been taken to the police station so he would no longer be faced with the carnage in the house he grew up in, no one willing to bring him back before the bodies and subsequent viscera they left behind were cleaned up.

Finally, the social worker assigned to his case took him to the house to retrieve his belongings. It was painful—even to his young mind—to see his home spotless like nothing happened there. But the images of blood spattering the floors and walls were imprinted in his brain.

Eventually, he’d learn to repress them.

The social worker helped him as he collected his things, throwing them haphazardly into suitcases and bags found around the house before lugging them into the trunk of her car. He had thought he gathered everything, about to climb into the backseat, when he remembered his favorite storybook—the one his mother would read to him every night before bed. The one she read to him before she was taken from him.

He ran back into the house as fast as his little legs could carry him, tearing apart everything in his path to find the one thing he had that still connected him to the family he lost.

“It was here! I swear it was here!” he cried as the woman shuffled after him, her eyes sad as she watched him collapse on the living room floor.

“Do you know where you last saw it, Leon?” she asked gently, kneeling beside him.

He pointed with a shaking finger to the dining table nearby, his parents having been slain in that very room.

“Oh, sweetheart…” she whispered, realizing that it was likely ruined by the blood that had drenched it only a few nights prior. “I think they had to… throw it away.”

Leon broke down at that, curling in on himself and sobbing so hard he thought he might throw up his guts right there on the hardwood floor. The woman did the only thing she could think of and carefully tugged him into her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” was all she offered, knowing there was nothing she could say that would help or change the way this child’s life would be eternally fractured. “I’m so sorry.”

Eventually, he cried all the tears he had left, and the woman led him to the car once more. He watched through the window with dull eyes as the neighborhood faded into the distance.

That was the last time he ever stepped foot inside his childhood home.

Then, after his parents' funeral, he was about to be taken to his new foster family, frightened and unable to find the silver lining in any of it. The social worker, though, did the kindest thing anyone had done for him in that dark time.

Just as he was about to get out of her car and trudge up to the unfamiliar house he’d be residing in—not knowing how long he would even be staying there until he’d likely be shipped off to another family—she handed him a gift, telling him to open it when he got inside and settled down.

He did just that, having to take a while to sit in his new bedroom and stare at the four walls, trying to adjust to his surroundings and be brave like his parents would have wanted.

He finally picked up the gift, tearing the wrapping paper off with tiny, careful hands and opening the box revealed beneath.

What was inside brought tears to his eyes, and he pulled the item to his chest so hard, the edges dug into the skin there, even through his shirt.

It was his favorite book.

Sure, it wasn’t the same one, its predecessor stained by sticky fingers and the pages ripped and crinkled from years of use, but it was still his.

The police officer that saved his life the night his parents were killed might have led him to join the force when he grew up, but that simple kindness of gifting him a cherished item he thought he lost forever was what pulled him through in those early days of grief and uncertainty of the future.

He couldn’t believe he had even forgotten, his heart clenching as he realized that book, which sat on his shelf in his apartment back in the States, was probably long gone now that everyone thought he was dead.

Once upon a time, he had hoped he could pass on that little book to his own child when he finally managed to settle down.

What a pipe dream that was.

Well, maybe it could bring another kid joy if it wasn’t just thrown out altogether by his landlord. It wasn’t like he had anyone to give his things to, after all.

Perhaps Claire had the chance to go through them and send everything to a shelter. He could wish.

He supposed there was no use thinking about it now, though.

It was ten years too late.

“Leon?” you asked him, pulling him from his thoughts with your soft voice. “Did you hear me?”

He exhaled, sporting a sheepish expression. “Sorry, I was just thinking. Say it again?”

“I was telling you about the fuel I brought.”

“Fuel?”

“For the generator! I figured we could get it up and running. That is, if you’re okay with it. I even got extra lightbulbs in case some of them don’t work.”

Leon shook his head and chuckled, taken aback by how much thought you put into your return. “What did your ride have to say about all of this?”

“Nothing, cos I rented a car for the week. Wanted to make sure I had a way to get back into town whenever I needed. You know, in case I missed anything.”

“Missed anything?” he asked, incredulous. “By the looks of it, you brought everything but the kitchen sink.”

“One can never be too prepared!” you defended earnestly.

He fought a wide grin but ultimately lost to his amusement. “I guess that’s true.”

After you finished showing him everything you brought, the two of you got down to business. You managed to get the old generator up and working, replacing a few of the lightbulbs that had gone out. After that, Leon went back to the edge of the lake to retrieve his bounty of fish while you remained behind to put things away.

When he returned, he found you finishing your task by placing the books you bought onto the shelf next to the dining table, slotting the last one into position as he approached. The two of you stood there, eyes roaming over the different titles nearly in unison.

It was a random array of classics, modern fiction of different genres, and nonfiction that consisted of how-to guides, memoirs, historical biographies, and science books. You really seemed to choose a little of everything, and he appreciated it.

He caught you smiling in his peripherals, turning to face you as you pulled out a novel with a black, shiny cover. You looked up at him with a teasing glint in your irises before saying, “Ever read this classic? I picked it out just for you.”

He grabbed the book from your hands and stared at the title. “Twilight? Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as you pulled the book back from his grasp, looking at the inside of the cover. “That’s right, you’ve been here since before this was even published.”

“That mean I was missing out?” he questioned jokingly.

You had a wicked expression on your face as you replied, “Oh, you were. It’s practically a modern Jane Austen if you can believe it. A love story of epic proportions.” You squinted at him for a second before biting your lip and adding, “You might even relate a bit to the love interest.”

“What, is he a monster, too?”

“Vampire, so close enough.”

“What kind of vampire are we talking about here? Nosferatu? Dracula? How human does this guy look?”

“Pretty human, I’m afraid. But he sparkles in the sun, so that’s kind of inconvenient.”

Leon scoffed. “Poor him.”

You laughed and he basked in the sound of it. “Poor him, indeed. Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll read some of it to you before bed.”

He raised a brow at that, ignoring how that made his stomach flip at the thought. “You gonna tuck me in while you’re at it? Get me a warm glass of milk?”

You rolled your eyes as you slid the book back into its place on the shelf. “Only if you’re a good boy.”

His mouth went dry at your words, unexpectedly affected by them and unable to reply.

Seeing how he froze, you cleared your throat and rushed to change the subject, “Anyway, I wanted to ask you how bathing works here. I didn’t see a tub in the house anywhere.”

Leon shook his head to clear his thoughts before responding, “Yeah, I’ve been doing that in the lake, actually.”

“Hm, it’s a little too cold for me to do that. I guess I can live off of rag baths or something.”

“There are some in the area, like big wash basins. I can bring one in here for you, put it in the side room there. We can just dump the water out the window or something when you’re done. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold or feel gross while you’re here.”

“That would be amazing,” you said, leaning over and running your hand down his bicep. He was forced to suppress the shiver the action caused as you continued, “Thank you for being willing to go through the trouble.”

Against his better judgment, he gripped your shoulder lightly. “It’s the least I could do after all this.” To make his point, he gestured around the house with his free hand, referring to the electric light filling the room, the stocked fridge and pantries, and the books that now lined the once-empty shelves.

“You deserve it, Leon. I wish I could do more for you if I’m honest.” A faint pink tinged your cheeks as you looked away from him.

He felt his heart stutter in his chest at that, wishing he could pull you into his arms but knowing that was far too forward.

“Anyway, I’ll start making dinner if you want a taste. I know you got your fish to eat, but you might like a homemade meal after so long without one.”

“Yeah, that sounds… nice. I’ll go get a tub for you, I guess.”

You smiled at him brightly and he begrudgingly let you go to do as he said he would, thinking about you the whole time he was out.

After about half an hour, he returned, having found and scrubbed clean a dirty metal bathtub he found in one of the village houses, along with an old rug. While you set the table, he placed the piece of fabric on the ground beside the far window in the side room and then put the tub on top of it, hoping it would serve you well.

The two of you ate dinner, and although he found it delicious, he couldn’t help but prefer his fresh meat to the meal you had cooked.

You had noticed his avoidance of the vegetables on his plate and laughed about it, asking him if he was really that picky. He was quick to inform you that he could eat plants, but he didn’t like them or need them to live.

“Ah, a true carnivore,” you had said, nodding as if you understood. As if that were normal.

He would probably never get you. But he wanted to, for whatever reason.

After dinner was finished, you cleaned the dishes and pulled out that book you had mentioned earlier, looking positively maniacal as you plopped onto the loveseat by the fireplace. Leon sat on his stool, leaning back against the dining table as he awaited your performance.

He realized very quickly why you were so giddy to read it to him.

It was awful, and you seemed to find subjecting him to it hilarious.

He told you as much after you finished the first chapter and you giggled. “I’m sorry, but this book came out when I was a teenager and it had me in a chokehold at the time. It’s funny now, but you can somewhat blame this series for pushing along my obsession with the occult.”

He hadn’t given much thought to the age gap between you, but he realized suddenly that it was at least a decade. You were a grown woman and he wasn’t aging, but that didn’t stop him from questioning it a little. Just another reason he shouldn’t entertain this pull to you he seemed to have.

However, that couldn’t stop the next few words from coming out of his mouth, the casual flirtation as natural as breathing, “So you’ve always had a thing for monsters, then? Here I thought I was special.”

“You are special,” you assured him, making heat rise to his face. “Insomuch that you’re the first and only monster I’ve come across. Besides, I don’t think Mothman would be so quick to invite me over for dinner.”

“He’s missing out, then,” Leon mused, forcing himself to calm down and not read into what you were saying. “You’re an entertaining guest.”

The two of you chatted and joked all evening, much like the last time you had visited, before you decided it was time for bed. You took turns brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink—Leon grateful that you brought him a new toothbrush and paste to use—and then you carried your duffle bag to the adjoining room to change into your pajamas.

He grabbed some of your things to go upstairs with him, switching to sleepwear himself before unfolding your air mattress on the floor by the window.

The glass was still broken from when Ada had shot through it a decade ago, and although Leon had cleaned the shards off the ground so that he wouldn’t get them stuck in his feet, he never bothered to patch the hole. Watching you enter the room and shiver as the breeze blew in, he decided tomorrow he would cover it, just to keep you comfortable.

You laughed when Wolfie barked at the small mechanical air pump loudly whirring as it began to fill the bed, and Leon smiled as you kneeled next to the canine and petted him to alleviate his distress. You patted the dog bed you placed beside Leon’s footboard, cooing as he curled up on it immediately.

Leon could get used to this, you being here. And that was a dangerous thought. You were only back a day—only planned to stay a week—and already he was settling into whatever new normal came with being around you.

He needed to put some distance between you expeditiously if he wanted to keep what was left of his sanity.

As you finished inflating the mattress and placing the bedding you brought for it, you turned to face him and saw the frown and furrowed brows that marred his features.

“Leon, you okay over there?”

He shifted his gaze to you again, schooling his expression and inwardly admonishing himself for not controlling it in the first place. He supposed he was out of practice, though he was never really good at hiding his emotions, anyway.

“M’fine. Just… tired.” It was close enough to the truth. He had barely slept the night before and he knew there were bags under his eyes as you took in his face thoughtfully.

“Hope I didn’t keep you up too late,” you apologized, biting your lip and looking almost timid.

Fuck, you were cute.

Unfair.

“Course not. Even if you did, I think it was worth it,” he assuaged, running his clawed hand through his hair. “Not like I have a job to do or anything. Plus side to being a cryptid is that you don’t exactly have to follow a schedule.”

You giggled, visibly relaxing, and shuffled under the covers of your bed. “Well, thank you for letting me stay again. I’m having a good time and I hope you are, too.”

“No problem,” he replied, thinking that perhaps he should be thanking you for the company you were providing him. He refrained. “And I am. It’s been… nice.” That was the understatement of the century, he knew, but it was all he was willing to express.

“Good,” you said before you rubbed your face into your pillow, a loud yawn echoing in the room. “Night, Leon.”

“Night.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed awake after that, listening to you snoring softly across the room in a way he found almost endearing, his head foggy with exhaustion and the sheer disbelief that you were here at all.

The things you did to him, you’d never know.

Then finally, he closed his eyes.

+++

You awoke slowly to the sound of someone calling your name, rubbing your eyes and sitting up on your inflatable bed.

You yawned as you peered over, Leon crouched on the floor by his footboard, running his fingers through Wolfie’s fur.

“I see you learned your lesson about how to wake me up,” you teased, voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

He shook his head, smiling. “What can I say? I’ve always been a quick study.”

You offered an upward tug of your lips before you lifted your arms above your head, stretching out until a soft squeak left your mouth against your will.

You heard Leon chuckle beside you and you gave him a faux glare as you ripped the blankets off your legs. “What’s so funny, Mr. Kennedy?”

He stood up and only needed to take one long step to be next to your bed, towering over you, before he bent down and offered his hand. “Nothing at all, little rabbit.”

You scoffed but allowed him to easily pull you to your feet. “Is that my official nickname now?”

“‘Fraid so. It suits you a little too well.” His eyes were on you for a moment before they drifted to your still-joined hands. He ran his finger over the ring you were wearing; the one he had given you. “I thought you were joking when you said I was proposing to you,” he mused.

“I was,” you huffed indignantly. “When I pawned off the other stuff you gave me, I decided I wanted to keep this one because it looked cool. And… it reminded me of my time here.”

“And you just so happened to put it on your ring finger?”

“Don’t you get any ideas. It just fits that one best.”

He grinned down at you mischievously before releasing your hand from his grip. “If you say so.”

“Anyway, now that we’re up…” You sidestepped him to open the bedroom door, trying not to let him see the way his teasing got you all flustered. “I’d like you to take me on a tour today. After breakfast, of course.”

He sighed with exaggerated annoyance. “If I have to.”

You nodded before bounding out of the room and down the stairs, calling back, “You do!”

You were quick to enter the side room, peeling off your pajamas and pulling out your clothes for the day. You eyed the top you had bought the morning before on a whim, considering how it flattered your form and showed a decent amount of your cleavage, but thought better of it. These little flirtations you shared with Leon likely didn’t mean anything, and you loathed to appear desperate. You’d save it for another day, you decided.

You finished changing, then dealt with your unruly hair before brushing your teeth and washing your face.

Leon joined you shortly after in the kitchen, also donning a new outfit, though the worn fabric and the awkward way it hung off of him made you want to get his measurements just so you could spoil him with a new wardrobe. You worried about going through with it, though, afraid it would come across as rude or even creepy to ask.

Like the top you deliberated wearing, you decided to save that conversation for another day. You had a week, after all.

“You making anything for breakfast?” he questioned, leaning casually in the archway, his long arms crossed in front of his chest. You found it both funny how human it was and… strangely attractive.

You averted your gaze. “Just gonna eat cereal. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t expect you to be my personal chef, you know.” He pulled one of the fish he caught the day prior from where you had stacked them in the bottom of the fridge. “Plenty happy with what I got.”

You scrunched your nose at the smell of the scaly creature as he released it from its ziplock bag. “Eat whatever you want, Leon, but you better scrub your mouth after that. Can’t have you reeking of fish while we’re out all day.”

He offered a lazy salute before taking a large bite. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned and prepared your own breakfast, your stomach already growling.

After eating, and after Leon dutifully brushed his teeth and tongue with added vigor at your behest, he pulled out an old map to aid in your little adventure. You noted the handwritten scrawls across the page, naming each location in the area. You weren’t sure what building you were in, so you trailed your finger from the hunter’s lodge to where you assumed Leon’s house sat.

“We’re here, I’m guessing?” you asked him, pointing at what was titled “the chief’s manor” on the old, yellowed paper.

He nodded, seeming impressed. “Didn’t expect you to figure it out so quick.”

“Well, I use maps on my investigations, you know. A lot of places with cryptid sightings have shit service, so I can’t rely on my GPS. You eventually figure things out after getting lost in the woods a couple times.”

He chuckled at that. “So, where do you want to go?”

You stared thoughtfully at the map for a few moments, thinking about where you’d like to start. “How about we explore the right side of the area first since we’re already here? Then we could do the left side tomorrow.”

“You’re the boss,” Leon said, shrugging.

“Damn right,” you replied with a smile.

You then got to work filling your backpack with water bottles and a sandwich for later. You even added a baggie full of lunch meat for Leon.

Once out of the door, the two of you (and Wolfie, of course) began your little journey. There was a cool breeze that swept across the path ahead, but the sun was high and warmed your skin. You even pulled out your ballcap and placed it on Leon’s head to keep the light out of his sensitive eyes, which he rolled at your demand, but didn’t protest.

You traveled down to the abandoned factory and what the map called “the valley”. The factory didn’t hold much of your interest after a quick sweep, but the valley was like a playground to you, the area just a bunch of wooden platforms and bridges set into the surrounding cliffs with a couple of small, empty buildings.

Leon didn’t have much to say about any of it, grumbling about how the area was one he usually avoided, but you caught him smiling softly at your excitement. You were glad for it because you knew most people found your unbridled joy more annoying than endearing.

After that, you circled back, passing Leon’s house and heading to the village in order to reach the church.

As you were perusing the gravestones in the front, enamored by just how old some of them were, you spoke to Leon about something that had been on your mind, “So, the day we met, you told me that I reminded you of someone. Can I ask who?”

He let out a puff of laughter at your nosiness. “Her name's Claire. We survived Raccoon City together.”

“She become an agent, like you? Or was she the person you were protecting when you were forced to join?”

“Neither. She took off pretty much as soon as she could to find her brother. The person I was protecting was this girl named Sherry. She had antibodies against one of the viruses in the city, and they were threatening to experiment on her if I didn’t do their bidding,” he explained, his expression hardening at the memory.

“Jesus,” you muttered. “Your friend ever find her brother?”

“Yeah, at least that side of things worked out.”

“So… what happened after? Y’know, before you came to the village,” you questioned.

“I’m not sure what you mean. I worked as an agent for six years. Then this. Not much else to say about it.”

You bit your lip, deliberating how to go about asking him what you wanted to know, deciding to be straightforward instead of coy. You had never been good at subtlety, anyway. “I meant you and Claire. Were you guys a thing?”

“Ah.” He chuckled lightly. “No, we weren’t. She’s great, don’t get me wrong, but we were just friends. Kept in touch until, well… you know.”

“Right.” You found yourself to be strangely relieved that there was nothing between them, but you admonished yourself for even caring. You were only here for a week, after all. No use getting attached, especially after only a couple of days.

He was thoughtful for a moment before he added, “I wonder about them all the time. How they’re doing. A lot can happen in ten years.”

“I don’t know about your friends, but I can at least update you on Ashley, if you’d like?” you offered.

“Is she okay?” he questioned, going stiff. He seemed to always expect the worst and that broke your heart a little.

“Yes, she’s perfectly fine,” you assured him, glad to see him visibly relax at your words. “In fact, she’s more than fine.”

He tilted his head, “That so?”

“She’s a member of Congress now. Kind of following in her dad’s footsteps, I guess. She’s pretty popular among the younger crowd, always fighting for the underdog. They started calling her a saint after she founded an organization to help people who’ve gone through kidnapping, hostage situations, and things like that. A real inspiration.”

Leon smiled wistfully. “I’m happy to hear that. I always knew she had it in her, to be her own hero.”

“You know, she’s made several public statements about what happened here. Obviously, there were parts heavily doctored, but still.” You paused a moment, playing with the hem of your shirt. “She talked a lot about you, too. How you saved her. Like you were a modern-day Hercules or something.”

He scoffed, seeming almost diffident. “I was just doing my job. And she saved both herself and me plenty of times. She should give herself more credit.”

“So humble,” you teased, snaking your arm through his, having to strain your neck just to look up at him. “You really are a catch.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled away from you, “And you think you’re funny.”

“I am funny,” you corrected with a grin, trying not to feel hurt by the way he distanced himself.

He shook his head. “Well, c’mon then, miss comedian. Let’s get a move on.”

The two of you continued your expedition, walking into the nearby church. You raved over the large building and its architecture, awed by the massive stained glass window that painted you, Leon, and Wolfie in a kaleidoscope of light.

Even in this form, you couldn’t deny that Leon looked pretty washed in the rainbow hues. You raked your eyes over him before meeting his gaze and you froze, worried you had been caught ogling him. He turned his head quickly, though, and seemed almost embarrassed. As if he were the one that was caught.

You realized that he had been staring at you, too, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the thought.

You moved on to the quarry, finding a massive skeleton that made your jaw drop to the ground. Leon explained that it was called El Gigante, a troll-like monster that he had slain himself. He laughed as he patted Wolfie’s head, adding that the dog had aided in the fight, not to give himself too much credit.

After getting your fill of the fascinating creature, you eventually pushed forward, reaching the edge of the lake and deciding to sit on the dock together to eat your lunch. You pried your shoes off, dipping your sweaty feet into the water, cringing at how cold it felt against your skin.

You chatted idly as you ate, Leon feeding pieces of the deli meat you brought to Wolfie as he devoured his own. You smiled at the sight before gazing back out at the lapping waves, the rhythmic sounds of them hitting the dock almost mesmerizing.

“You should take me on the lake at some point,” you mused, pulling your legs up so that your feet could dry out.

“Sure, that can be arranged. It’s nice out on the water. Peaceful.” He pulled your ball cap further over his forehead. “I like to go fishing a lot these days, just so I can sit out there and shut everything out.”

“I’m not one for fishing,” you admitted, knocking your shoulder gently into his. “But the rest sounds great.”

“It’s a date, then.” You both froze at his phrasing and he was quick to amend, “That was a joke.”

You were disappointed to hear him take it back but smiled up at him regardless. “Joke or not, that sounds good to me.”

You lazed about for a while after that in silence before you pulled your socks and shoes back on, mentioning the fish farm to Leon. He told you about how it was infested with algae and vipers and smelled terrible. You made a face, not exactly keen on wading through stinky snake water, opting to call it a day and head back for his house.

You had just reached the wooded path heading for Leon’s abode when both he and Wolfie stopped dead in their tracks. Not noticing their halted movement, you took a step forward and Leon threw his arm in front of you, barring you from walking any further.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned in a hushed tone, seeing Leon’s severe expression and Wolfie’s raised hackles.

“Bear,” was all he offered.

You were about to say something when a loud rustle was heard from the tree line just ahead of you. You swallowed as a giant bear sauntered onto the path, uncomfortably close to where you stood.

Looking at the massive creature, it was suddenly apparent what Leon meant when he said you’d been lucky up to this point, never facing a predator beyond a fox or large bird in your investigations. You didn’t realize just how big they were in person.

Instead of moseying on like you had hoped, it began to walk toward your group. Panic set in when Wolfie growled and snapped his jaw, the bear seeming to take offense, huffing irritably and edging even closer.

“Down, boy,” Leon commanded the dog, who immediately backed away. Leon stepped in front of you slowly, whispering, “Don’t move.”

You nodded at him and he gave one in return before facing the dangerous animal again. He stood to his full height and splayed out his appendages, hoping they would deter it from further approaching. But the damn thing didn’t back off, letting out a roar and lifting itself up on its hind legs, somehow even taller than Leon.

You had heard male brown bears could grow up to eight feet in height and weigh half a ton, though you had never thought about what that meant in real life. It was terrifying.

Suddenly, you felt something touch your waist. You let out a small gasp as you looked down, finding that Leon’s tail was coiling around you. It tightened and yanked you towards him, and you tried to avoid the sharp barbed end of it as it slid across your middle.

His tail was forgotten, though, when Leon raised his claws, bared his fangs, and growled. The sound was deep and loud and so inhuman it sent a bolt of fear through your whole body. A fear that even the gargantuan bear before you, ready to maul you to death, didn’t elicit.

The noise had apparently even rattled the predator itself, which took a few steps back and dropped forward onto its front legs once more. Leon growled again, this one quieter and more guttural, but no less frightening.

The bear just huffed before trotting off into the forest.

Leon exhaled in relief, relaxing his position. “We’re good to go if we hurry,” he said without looking at you.

“Um, Leon? Can’t exactly hurry when I’m trapped like this.”

He turned his head sharply, his red eyes widening when he noticed his tail had completely encircled your torso, squeezing you tightly as the tip flicked precariously close to your face.

“Fuck,” he said, slowly and carefully unfurling the appendage from your body. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t even realize I did that. Are you okay? I didn’t catch you with the barb, did I?”

You let out a breath as soon as you were free. “I’m fine, it didn’t get me.”

“Good, cos there’s venom in it. Depending on where it stings you and how deep, it might paralyze you for a while.”

You stared up at him with a horrified expression. “Seriously? How long is ‘a while’?”

“I normally use it when I’m hunting bigger prey, like deer, so I don’t exactly sit around and wait for it to wear off before going for the kill. But I have used it on predators in self-defense, and they were up and at ‘em in about an hour.”

“Have you ever stung yourself by accident?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t work on me. Immune to it, I guess. Still hurt like a bitch, though.”

You eyed his tail warily. “And you really didn’t know you grabbed me with it?”

“I didn’t,” he said, sighing glumly. “Guess it was just… instinctual.”

“Well… thank you. For protecting me, I mean.” You couldn’t deny that the whole ordeal scared you, but you were still grateful. And Leon was still Leon, as far as you could glean.

“Of course, it’s my—” he cut himself off and let out a soft chuckle. “I almost said ‘it’s my job’. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I suppose if I’ve roped you into showing me around the place, it kind of is your job,” you joked.

He smiled and you finally relaxed, the warmth of it—even despite his sharp teeth—was enough to make you feel safe again.

He cleared his throat awkwardly before looking at the tree line where the bear had disappeared, his tone serious as he said, “We should really head home in case he comes back.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, reaching out to hold onto his arm once more. You were pleased when he allowed it, guiding you to the safety of his house, Wolfie happily trailing behind.

You might have been frightened, but you couldn’t deny the exhilaration that coursed through your veins.

You wondered what the rest of the week would have in store.

+++

Leon awoke much the same way as he had the day before: to the sound of your deep breaths and even heartbeats caressing his ears from across the room.

He didn’t stir, only stared up at the ceiling of his canopy bed, thinking about yesterday’s events.

It started out as a good day, which he realized he came to expect in your company, but he knew something shifted after the bear incident.

You spoke to him as if nothing changed, but the way you looked at him—or more accurately, the way you refused to look at him—was distinctly off. He figured you were just rattled by the whole thing, but he had shown you a side to him he hoped he would never have to. The part that was truly monstrous.

And the way he had wrapped his tail around you? How it seemed to move of its own accord? The cursed thing often flicked about without him directly using it, but he believed he generally had full control of the appendage. Apparently not.

That realization alone was enough to concern him, but the fact it involved you mortified him beyond belief. He was shocked you didn’t decide to pack up and leave the moment the two of you returned to the house.

Instead, you made dinner like the night before, and while you cooked, Leon had duct-taped an old towel over the hole in the upstairs window to have something to do and to give you space.

You had then called him down for the meal, Leon choosing to eat all of what you cooked despite his preference for fresh meat and little else, in part hoping it would come across as some sort of olive branch. You seemed surprised by it but didn’t make a comment like you might normally.

He also caught you staring at his tail, and he had his guesses of what you might be thinking.

He assured you what happened earlier wouldn’t happen again, and you told him it was no big deal and that you weren’t worried. He didn’t believe you, though he had no choice but to let it go and pretend the fact he scared you didn’t make his stomach twist in knots.

After clearing the table, you mentioned wanting to take a bath, and Leon was quick to start the process of boiling the water for you, telling you to relax and read a book. As a compromise, you began reading aloud more of that ridiculous vampire romance novel you bought for him as a joke. Although the story wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, he was happy to hear your little performance just for him, entertained by the voices you gave each of the characters.

You had just ended a chapter—number four or five, he couldn’t recall—when he finished filling the tub with hot water. You obviously had to wait a few minutes for it to cool down enough to get into, but once you were ready, you ducked into the side room.

Leon, still wanting to talk to you and not knowing what else to do, sat against the wall on the opposite side, Wolfie curling up in his lap as you chatted back and forth.

He could hear the quiet splashing as you moved and cleaned yourself out of his sight, and started to imagine what you looked like under your clothes. How your soaked hair dripped water onto your shoulders and ran in rivulets down your body; how your wet skin would feel under his hands.

He physically recoiled from his wandering thoughts, smacking the back of his head against the wall and letting out a hiss of pain.

“You okay over there?” you questioned, voice light and teasing, though still concerned for his well-being.

God, you were too good for him.

“M’fine,” he grumbled in reply, dropping his face into his hands, urging himself to get a grip.

Eventually, you emerged from the room in your pajamas, wringing your hair out with a towel. As you strolled past him to brush your teeth in the kitchen, he was struck by the aroma of the soap you used.

Lavender and vanilla.

The smell was enough to make his mouth water, trailing after you as if possessed. He loomed over you, wanting nothing more than to bury his face into the crook of your neck and inhale.

You turned to face him quizically after rinsing your mouth, and he took a sharp breath to pull himself out of whatever trance he was in, removing himself from your personal space.

What the hell was wrong with him?

In all the years it took to get used to what he became, he had never been compelled by anything except hunger. He hated that fact, and it troubled him, but whatever this was? It felt far more dangerous.

At least the hunger was predictable.

The two of you had gone to bed without further incident, but he had tossed and turned for hours after, unable to banish the thoughts of you swirling in his head, especially with your sleeping body mere feet away.

To hear you, to smell you, to practically feel the heat emanating from your skin across the room… it felt like torture. Would he be able to survive several more days of this?

He finally sat up in bed the following morning, feeling restless despite not getting much sleep. He called out your name as he grazed his eyes over you.

You were laying on your side, facing away from him, a mess of hair the only thing he could make out from the pile of blankets you were wrapped up in.

He called your name again, a bit louder, and you finally stirred, rolling over to look at him with bleary eyes.

“Morning, Leon,” you sighed out, rubbing the sleep from your lashes.

“Mornin’,” was his gruff reply, dragging his fingers through his hair. “You still determined to go exploring today? Even after what happened with the bear?”

You grinned lazily, turning to face him and propping yourself up on your elbow. “Of course I am. You think a lil run-in with the local wildlife will deter me? Clearly, you haven’t been paying attention.”

He could argue he’d been paying too much attention, but he’d never say it aloud.

You continued, “Besides, I have a big, strong man to protect me.”

He scoffed, shifting his face away from you so you couldn’t see the blush spreading there. “Oh, yeah? Who’s that?”

You rolled your eyes before slowly dragging yourself out of bed and sauntering over to him, crossing your arms. “You, silly. Now hurry up and get dressed. We got a big day ahead of us.”

Before he could protest, you were out the door.

He blew air through his teeth and shook his head, begrudgingly getting to his feet. He looked down at Wolfie, who wagged his tail but didn’t move to leave his cushy dog bed. “Women, am I right?”

He quickly got dressed, cursing the fact he didn’t own a single thing that fit him. He wasn’t sure why he cared, as if a change of clothes would make you interested in a monster.

Your flirtations admittedly affected him, but he wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking you’d ever be attracted to him like this. And for your safety, it would be better if you weren’t. You were strange, sure, but you were still human. Human and fragile, he had to be reminded.

Pulling himself together, determined to keep his distance and stop flirting with you, he made his way down the stairs to face you once more.

As he turned the corner, however, the sight that greeted him made him stop in his tracks.

You had just finished changing, walking out of the side room when you saw him and smiled, doing a little twirl with the outfit you were wearing. “You like it? I bought this shirt just the other day.”

He couldn’t prevent the way his eyes raked over your form, taking in the fashionable boots, tight jeans, and puffy-sleeved baby doll top that sat low and tight across your chest. You had even done your makeup and styled your hair in a high ponytail, front pieces of it dangling to frame your face.

It hadn’t even been five minutes and you were already testing his resolve.

Unfair.

“Well?” you prodded when he only stood in silence.

He cleared his throat and nodded, trying to act cool. “You look… nice. Not sure how comfortable it’ll be to hike around in all day, but you do you.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him and into the kitchen. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

The rest of the morning was spent eating breakfast and setting up for the next trip, though there was a heavy tension Leon was suddenly aware of. It had always been there between the two of you, but it had been a slow, simmering thing. Something manageable.

Now, though? It felt like the pot might overboil.

He had to stop himself from staring at you multiple times, trying desperately to be the gentleman his mother raised him to be. He didn’t want you to think he was a pervert on top of being a literal monster. He had to have some principles to hold on to, after all.

It’s not like you knew how deeply you were affecting him, anyway. And if he could help it, you never would.

The day’s journey was a bit strenuous, having a lot more ground to cover than the one prior. He decided it was best that Wolfie remain behind, the dog cozied up on his little bed as you were leaving.

Once you exited the house, Leon kept his eyes peeled for that bear again, or any other potential danger, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s events. Still, he couldn’t help but smile softly at the way you approached every new area with such awe and excitement. It was strange to see someone find such joy in a location he’d deemed his own personal hell. It almost made him appreciate the place, to see it through your eyes.

Almost.

The two of you visited the farm and the lakeside settlement, returning to the gate of the villa to eat your lunch at the table inside.

After you finished your meal, you bit your lip the way you always did when you were deep in thought. The action drove him a little crazy, but he ignored it.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Do you think we’ll have time to explore the castle today?”

He sat back in his seat to consider it, glancing out the nearby window. “Well, we’re making good time. Still got a few hours of daylight. If you don’t dawdle too much on the way there, we probably could.”

You beamed at him, an excited squeal leaving your mouth. “Fuck yeah! I’ve never been to real a castle before!”

He couldn’t deny the self-satisfaction he felt at the idea of providing you with so many new experiences. If there was anything he was sure of, it was that you’d never forget your time here, and that would be a good enough turnout for him.

He smiled in return. “Well, let’s get to changing that.”

Leon had been through the area many times over the years, clearing the paths that had been obstructed when he was chased around it a decade ago. It was still a difficult trek, especially for a human, and the two of you had to stop occasionally so that you could catch your breath and drink some water.

He didn’t mind it one bit, finding himself observing the sun glinting off your sweat-slick skin. Your makeup was holding up surprisingly well, though the loose strands of hair you had pulled from your ponytail were beginning to stick slightly to your face. His eyes drifted to your chest, watching it rise and fall with your every breath.

“Okay, we’re good to keep going,” you told him, thankfully unaware of his gaze, which he quickly turned forward.

Eventually, you made it to the rickety old bridge that led to the burnt-down slaughterhouse. Leon had repaired it as best he could in the early days of his transformation, wanting an easy way to get around the area. He found he could jump over the ravine with his new superhuman abilities, but it was still a precarious leap.

He went to stroll across the wooden planks, held together by rope, when he noticed you hadn’t moved to follow.

He raised a confused brow at you. “Well, c’mon.”

You swallowed as you approached the bridge, nervously stepping onto it. Your knees buckled when you looked down and saw how high up you were. He easily caught you, and you held on tightly to his arm for balance.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mused. “Little miss thrillseeker is scared of heights?”

“Not… usually. More scared of how rickety this thing is than anything,” you grumbled.

Your grip on him was bruising, but he didn’t mind. “We crossed another one just earlier and you seemed fine.”

“Well, this one isn’t nearly as sturdy, is it?” you snapped, letting out a shaky exhale as you tried to take another step.

He looked thoughtfully at you for a moment, deciding to take a risk by sweeping you off your feet and holding you up in his arms.

“Leon!” you yelped, wrapping your hands around his neck fearfully. “What the hell?!”

He chuckled lightly as you peeked over your shoulder. “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

You pivoted to face him with wide eyes, your face reddening. “Aren’t I too heavy for this?” you questioned nervously.

He scoffed. “I could pick up a car, easy. This is nothing.”

“I more so meant the bridge. Wouldn’t want to break it with both our weights combined, right?”

He shook his head. “Do you trust me?”

You stared at him for a few moments but eventually nodded timidly. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then trust,” he began, taking a step forward, “that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, holding onto him tighter. You buried your face into the crook of his neck so you wouldn’t have to see the way the creaking bridge swayed with every movement.

He carefully worked his way across without concern, enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. You were delightfully warm as you pressed against him, and the feeling of your breath sweeping over his throat forced him to suppress a shiver.

Regretfully, he made it to the other side, setting you down on solid ground once more. “See? Not so bad.”

You seemed flustered, likely because of your nerves concerning the old bridge, taking a moment to adjust your clothes and hair that were rumpled slightly by the ordeal. “I guess not.”

The two of you began the brief hike to the castle after that, Leon feeling the absence of your body heat so intensely, it was worrying. Whatever this was between you, it was getting out of hand, and Leon was apparently unable to keep his distance.

He had never been particularly good at saying what he wanted, but that never stopped him from seeking it out as if he were a damn homing missile. His interactions with Ada in the past were proof of that. He would have followed her anywhere if he were able. If she had let him.

He banished thoughts of her from his mind, an easier task after a decade of doing it over and over again. His thoughts of you, however, were a different beast altogether.

He figured, though—he hoped—that once you left, he’d learn to push away his feelings for you, too. At least he had practice.

He was pulled from his introspection when he heard you practically scream in excitement as you came around the bend in the path, the massive, sprawling castle revealed to you.

“Oh my god! Just look at it! It’s huge! And the structure? Friggin’ impressive!” you gushed as the two of you approached the gate.

He grinned down at you and could almost see the stars in your eyes. “Wait 'til you see the inside.”

Your joy was nearly infectious as you explored the area, dragging him around from place to place and only letting him lead when you needed directions. He didn’t mind it, happy to trail after you as you oohed and aahed at damn near everything you saw.

He watched as you admired the flowers in the courtyard, the blooms unruly due to years of neglect, not yet killed by the autumn chill. Once you had turned your back on the bed of red carnations, he couldn’t fight the urge to pluck one from the dirt.

He strolled up behind you as you cooed over the bluebells, offering it to you when you faced him again. “For you.”

You looked surprised at first, but your expression melted into a sweet smile. “Thank you, Leon.”

Before you could reach out to take it, he bent forward and gently tucked it behind your ear, standing upright to get a full view. “Suits you.”

You seemed almost bashful for a moment, looking away. Trying to fluster you was rapidly becoming his favorite pastime.

Quickly as it had come, your almost shy demeanor disappeared, a twinkle forming in your eye as you plucked a stem of the bluebells and stuck it into Leon’s back pocket. “There, now we’re even.”

He chuckled at the action, finding your reciprocity charming, and the two of continued your journey onward.

You eventually entered the grand hall, and when you finished appreciating the opulence of the marble walls alone, you began to take in the decor.

“You said you like the artwork in the castle, right?” you questioned, pointing at a large landscape painting in front of you.

Leon nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind putting most of these up at my place.”

“Well… no one’s stopping you,” you goaded, grinning at him slyly. “I think this one would look perfect in the dining room, don’t you agree?”

He laughed, running his hand over the back of his neck as he considered it. “I don’t know, it’d be a hassle to bring them all the way to the house.”

“Sure,” you admitted, crossing your arms. “But don’t you think it’d be worth it to spruce up the place? Make it a bit more… homey? Besides, we could just take them out of the frames and roll them up. Make our own. It could be a fun little DIY project, and it’s not like you aren’t swimming in lumber.”

“Fine, I’m convinced.” He sighed, admitting you had a point. “You’d make a decent car salesman, you know that?”

You scrunched your nose at the thought, helping Leon remove the heavy frame from the wall, although he didn’t need it. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Leon smirked, allowing you to gently pull out the canvas, rolling it up. “Just an observation.”

You clicked your tongue in faux offense, continuing the task at hand.

The two of you collected six different paintings, which Leon was now stuck with holding for the rest of the trip. It was a nuisance, but at least having something in his grip prevented him from acting on his impulse to reach out and touch you.

Finally, you came across the library, and he knew you could spend an eternity going through the seemingly endless amount of books that lined the shelves as soon as you entered. You were about to make yourself comfortable and start reading to your heart’s content, but Leon had to remind you of your limited time.

“But this place is a gold mine!” you told him with a pout, the expression so damn cute, it tested his already crumbling resolve.

“Look, there’re still places to visit, and you have a few more days. We can always come back if you want,” he proposed.

You sighed exaggeratedly but gave in as he thought you would. “Fine, but you can’t stop me from taking some of these,” you informed him, shoving several books into your bag.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Afterward, he led you into the ballroom, and the way you gazed around in amazement at the sheer size of it made him chuckle.

“Imagine the parties in this place…” you mused. You dropped your backpack on the ground suddenly, marching to the center of the floor. “You know how to waltz, Leon?”

“Can’t say I do, unless you count slow-dancing at prom. Even then, I’m probably a little rusty.”

“Well, set down those paintings and get over here, mister. I’m gonna teach you how to dance like a prince,” you demanded earnestly.

“Seriously?”

“Please..?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, and despite his reluctance, he found it difficult to say no to you.

He gave out a long-suffering sigh, placing the paintings against the wall and meeting you where you stood. “If I step on your toes, you only have yourself to blame, bunny.”

You smiled up at him. “A risk I’m willing to take.”

Slowly and carefully, you put his hands into their proper positions; one in your own and the other resting against your waist. You coached him on how to move, and he followed your lead at first, stiff and awkward in his motions. Within a few minutes, though, he quickly picked up the rhythm and you allowed him to take charge, giggling as he spun you around the room.

“You’re a natural,” you complimented, rubbing your thumb against his shoulder where your hand was placed. He found himself doing the same to your side and was enthralled with the shiver that ran through your body, proof that maybe he had even the slightest effect on you.

“What can I say—” he started.

“You’re a quick study?” you teased, echoing his earlier words.

“No, actually,” he corrected, pulling you a little closer. “I was going to say, ‘I have a great teacher’.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you were.”

After a few more blissful minutes, Leon begrudgingly slowed to a halt and released you from his grasp. “Well, we better get a move on. It’s our last stop for today.”

You went to grab your backpack but he prevented you, telling you to leave it as you’d be coming back through, anyway. You nodded, following him to the final destination.

You laughed with pure glee when he brought you into the throne room, immediately bounding towards the massive, gilded seat. You took your time studying it, running your fingers over the intricate carvings along the sides before pressing down on the red cushion to test its comfiness.

“Well, go on. Sit,” he encouraged, crossing his arms over his chest.

You beamed at him before putting your attention back on the chair, turning and gracefully perching on top of it.

“Look at you, practically made to be royalty,” Leon told you as he approached.

He was joking, but there was truth in it. Seeing you sit on the ornate piece of furniture with one leg crossed over the other and your arms draped upon the sides of it was truly a sight to behold. He didn’t know you could appear so regal, even if it was for pretend.

“Made for it?” You hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Perhaps I just inherited the throne, the only remaining family of the recently deceased king.”

“Mm, and what would that make me, your Highness?” he questioned, tilting his head. He stood before you now, and he would’ve been remiss not to notice the playful gleam in your eye as you raked your gaze over him.

“You can be my loyal knight,” you told him, nodding your head. “There are those that transpire against me in this very court, sir. I would need someone diligent and strong to watch for my usurpers, after all.”

“A knight, huh?” Leon mused, coming up beside you and tracing a clawed finger along the back of the chair. “Not the fierce dragon holding the fair maiden hostage while she waits for someone brave or stupid enough to come looking for her?” He kneeled beside you, then, resting his elbows on the arm of the throne, his chin pressed on top of his folded hands. “No one’s managed to get past me yet. Sorry to tell you, princess.”

You shifted in the chair to face him, fingers splayed out on either side of his arms. “Even better… we could be Beauty and the Beast. A lonesome prince cursed to a monstrous form until he finds true love. And, of course, I’m only here to trade my life for my father’s, who had been terribly rude to sneak into your home unannounced. He’s a bit of an eccentric, you must know, but he’s a good man. And I’m eventually charmed by your uncouth mannerisms and prickly personality.”

“Uncouth and prickly? Ouch,” Leon chuckled. “Well, how does it end, then? Does true love turn me back into a human? That would be nice.”

“If we’re following the original tale, sure. But I have it on high authority that Beauty might have been more disappointed by the transformation than relieved.”

Leon raised his brows at that. “Disappointed the Beast turned back into a prince?”

“I’m sure she didn’t complain, of course. He was handsome, after all, and still the man she fell in love with, but… Beauty loved the Beast in part due to his monstrous form, not in spite of it.”

“Beauty sounds like a freak,” Leon quipped, though your words made something of a home inside of his chest, curled up and warm. “I bet you think The Little Mermaid should have kept her tail, don’t you?”

You bit your lip as you mulled it over, and he struggled not to stare at how the soft flesh gave under the pressure of your teeth, his eyes jumping back to meet yours almost guiltily as you finally replied, “Although I think the story would have been infinitely more interesting if she had, there’s something to be said about sacrifice in the name of love. It was a little unfair, though.”

“Unfair?”

“Well, why did she have to sacrifice everything for the prince? She gave up who she was on a fundamental level just to be with him. And what did he give up? He was still a prince. He was still handsome and rich. And then he got a beautiful girl so desperate to be with him, she’d trade her family, her friends, parts of her own body, her voice—just to get a chance with him. Feels a little unbalanced, doesn’t it?”

You were closer now, and he realized you both had shifted toward each other, like gravity itself had a hand in it. His tongue ran along the back of his teeth as he studied you and that smile dimpling your cheeks.

If it were gravity, you must have been the sun, then.

“I guess I never thought of it that way,” he responded. “What other wise inferences do you have for me, princess?”

You giggled and the sound might be imprinted in his brain forever. “Oh, so many, it’ll make your head spin.”

“Guess I have a lot to learn,” he replied, grinning.

“Definitely, but I think the biggest lesson here is that it's all a matter of… perspective.”

“I can’t believe anyone would want to overthrow you with smarts like that, your Highness. Sounds like you’d be a great ruler.”

“And that’s precisely why they seek to steal my crown, dear sir. An intelligent woman is a dangerous one,” there was a teasing lilt in your voice that made him suck in a harsh breath, your expression so open and light juxtaposed with the intensity of your eyes trained solely on him.

A silence stretched on between you as you simply stared at each other, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest—could hear your own do the same, though he wouldn’t dare hope it meant what he wanted it to.

You made him feel human.

But then he saw his own reflection in your eyes, and the sight of his sharp teeth was the reminder he needed that he wasn’t human, and he never would be again.

He supposed his curse couldn’t be broken.

And so he pulled away.

“We should get back to the house. It’s a long walk,” he told you, looking at the floor instead of you, afraid he might do something rash if he met your gaze for a moment longer.

You let out a shaky breath, blinking as if you were pulled from a daze, and stood. “Yeah, right. Of course.”

You grabbed your pack from the floor in the ballroom and he took the rolls of paintings leaning against the wall, the two of you rushing to leave the old castle behind.

And, with the awkward quiet that settled between you as you journeyed back to his home, both of you unable to meet the other’s eye…

It was a long walk, indeed.

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next

#plaga!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #plaga!leon kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #re4r #chubby!reader #half-life

194 notes · View notes