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kumkaniudaku · 12 days ago

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Sorry 2024

Summary: This is Terry's sorry for 2024. He ain't gonna mess up no more this year.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Previous: *Askew

Pastel blue light filtered through linen curtains and filled the quaint kitchen while Patrice maneuvered between the refrigerator and nearby counter. She spoke a mile a minute, running through a laundry list of important tasks and updates to keep Terry aware of the day’s needs.

He halfway listened while he scarfed down piping hot oatmeal to satisfy post-workout hunger and used his index finger to scrub backward on game film from the previous week. His receiver core was shaky at best. They’d need to tighten up in the final game of the season if they planned to start their playoff run strong and remain in the hunt for a the ever elusive state championship.

“Honey, don’t forget I’m driving your truck to work because you’re getting my oil changed during your lunch. Where are the keys?” The sugar-sweet lilt in her voice reserved for Terry and Terry only went mostly unnoticed by her husband.

“Yeah. That’s good, baby.”

Patrice paused packing her lunch and shifted her weight to one side with a hand on her hip. “You’re not even listening to me.��

“I heard you,” he answered, finally looking up.

“What did I say?”

“That you’re taking the leftovers. That’s good with me. I’ll grab something on base.”

“I said that fifteen minutes ago. Strike two.”

Terry’s mouth hung open for a half second as he thought back through their one-sided conversation. Admittedly, his mind was split into a million different streams of thought. Work problems, coaching responsibilities, household bills, the incoming holiday season, and its host of arrangements all fought for his attention day in and day out, leaving little room for intentional quality time with his wife.

For Patrice, the indifference toward her when she talked to him was frustrating and getting old. On too many occasions she’d forgiven him for staring off into space or flat-out ignoring her when she spoke. If silence is what he wanted, she was well on the way to granting his wish.

Swallowing down a gulp of water, Terry rushed to respond. “Woah, woah! Two? What was the first?”

“I asked you to turn the dryer on last night while I took a shower and guess who woke up to wet clothes this morning? C’mon. Guess!”

“Oh, shit.” Terry’s face contorted as he winced at the memory finally returning.

“Oh shit. Go away.” She mocked with an exaggerated deep voice before rolling her eyes and making a face. Mimicry, in his experience since the tender age of 15, was usually the prelude to a vicious attitude that had turned many into sworn enemies for life.

“My bad, Treece. I started wa-”

“Watching tape and forgot. Sing me a different song, Terrence.”

The disappointment etched in her beautiful features sent Terry’s stomach into the soles of his feet. Patrice’s full lips sagged into a heavy frown as she wrestled food containers into her lunchbox without looking in his direction. He could take her mumbling her anger or sending more than a few curse words his way. But the sadness in her silence was too much.

After pressing pause on his screen, Terry took measured steps toward Patrice to avoid disturbing an angry lion.

He touched her hip first to test the waters. When she didn’t reject him, he moved in to take up space behind her and pull her back against his body. He pressed a soft kiss behind her ear. “I won’t make excuses. Forgive me, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.”

Resistance faded slowly but surely as he nuzzled his nose into her neck between kisses. Tense muscles melted under his touch, relishing the extra attention meant to settle a disagreement. Anger fought to remain the chief emotion. Everything in her wanted to continue forging a war path until she was satisfied with the destruction. But she’d always had a weakness for this man with a smooth baritone and big hands that he loved to rub up and down her body.

She kissed her teeth before turning to plant a kiss on his cheek as a silent truce. “Whatever. You’re lucky I like you more than most other people.”

“What I gotta do to get that like to a love before you leave the house?”

Patrice pulled Terry’s bottom lip into another kiss and smiled. “It’d be great if you confirmed you used your mama’s Costco card to get the study hall snacks like we talked about.”

Terry froze. For days he’d had the nagging feeling that he was neglecting a task. Something important but vague among all of the other thoughts and responsibilities swirling in his head. He’d hoped for a reminder, but not like this, not on the heels of wriggling his way out of Patrice’s wrath only moments before.

Ever perceptive, Patrice didn’t need him to speak to know that he’d, once again, missed a memo. Anger was back from its short hiatus and making her body hot to the touch in a way Terry had been spared from his entire life.

She fought to wrestle free from his grasp, her body thrashing until he relented and let her go. Terry watched her stomp around the kitchen, snatching items from the counter and forcing them into her bag on her way to the front door. He remained hot on her heels with pleas to make things right on his lips until she stopped short at the coat closet.

“Strike three! You’re so fuckin’ selfish sometimes, Terry, I swear.” She grumbled as she swapped her car keys for his on their shared personal items hook. “I thought you would grow out of that by now but here you are, damn near 33 years old, and still doing the same shit.”

The dig at his past transgressions stung more than Terry expected. He tried to maintain his composure though the wounded man inside wanted to get to the bottom of why she’d chosen to toss such an insult out so casually.

He took a deep breath to quell the combative questions clawing through his throat while he watched her shrug on her coat with spite in her eyes. “Look, I messed up. We don’t need to start throwing jabs back and forth. How can I help?”

His attempt to reach out for her hand was thwarted once she snatched away to yank open the front door.

“Terrence, the time to help was early this week. Hell, last night even. I don’t have time for your sorry this morning. I gotta go figure this out by myself yet again.”

Immense guilt attached itself to Terry, producing a heavy heart as he tried to make sense of Patrice’s most venomous blowup to date. Never had she been so crass toward him, not even when he deserved it most. She’d always been the pinnacle of grace and forgiveness. What scared him most was the suspicion that she was more unhappy with his disappearing act than she’d let on in all their honest talks about their path forward after heartbreak. Half of him wanted to chase her into the early morning chill, stop her from leaving, and convince her to call in so that they could sort through every issue, past and present, until they were back on the right side of newlywed bliss. Rational thought told him that some things were best solved through action.

Bitterness fueled the remainder of Patrice’s day. Jokes in the breakroom were no longer funny. Her class clowns were less charming by fourth period. A fierce bout of irritability resulted in a pop quiz for her senior AP English class for not participating in the group discussion to her liking. Every second of every minute carried a dark, heavy cloud that she couldn’t shake.

She wanted to scream at Terry until her chest caved in from exhaustion. She wanted to throw things across the room, destroying every item in her path until the sting of compounded letdowns, actions he wasn’t even responsible for, was distilled back into the tiny box of rage she kept tucked away in her heart. She kept it hidden on purpose. If it ever got loose, there was no guarantee she could fix the damage it left behind.

Once school bells had rang and children were carted off to their respective homes, Patrice sat behind her desk with a small committee of cheerleaders congregating in her classroom. She kept her focus on grading the mountain of quizzes she’d created for herself, silently ready to give everyone extra credit for the attempt.

“Ms. Ellis,” Alana, her captain, started as she dusted Doritos remnants from her fingers.

Mikayla cut in. “It’s Mrs. Richmond now. She got married! You see her ring.”

“And you ain’t invite us?” Alana gasped, pretending to be offended. “That’s cold Mrs. Richmond. I thought we were cool.”

“We’re cool, Lana. I didn’t know I was getting married until it happened. No one was invited.”

“Can I at least see that big ol’ diamond up close?”

Young girls with fairytales and romance novels seared into their perception of love begged for a chance to see Patrice’s wedding band up close. With more energy, she would shoo them away and redirect them to the bulletin board they abandoned to snack and gossip amongst each other. But arguments before work were taxing and all she could bring herself to do was push away from her desk and join them in the center of their circle with her hand outstretched for their inspection.

Oooh, ahhs, and everything in between overlapped as each young lady took her turn running their fingers up against the clear stone and white gold band engraved with her new initials.

“I want me a ring just like this!” Camille explained as she took a picture to send to her boyfriend.

“Can we see your husband? Is he nice like you?”

Patrice paused. “Uh…yeah. He’s a nice man. You all should be with nice boys, or girls, or whoever you like. Don’t allow anyone to be anything less than nice to you.”

“Okay, but can we see him,” another girl reiterated.

“It’s Coach Richmond, duh,” Mikayla exclaimed. “They got the same last name. And they was in this old yearbook together. I saw it in Ms. Shields's class when we were having a yearbook meetin’.”

More oohs and ahhs, this time fawning over the new football coach on campus and the picture Mikayla had saved to her cellphone. Patrice listened to them gush over the thorn in her side as she eased into a desk to take the pressure off her aching feet.

Camille looked between the photo and Patrice with a smile. “He was your boyfriend when y’all went here?”

“For a little bit. Right before we graduated. But we broke up that summer.”

“How come?”

“He wanted to go to the military and I wanted to go to college,” Patrice answered after a deep sigh. “So, he went his way and I went mine because I wasn’t changing my mind. Remember that. Do what you wanna do. You have a whole life ahead of you.”

The girls all mumbled some version of their agreeance before another question pushed the tea session forward.

“Then how did y’all get married. He came back?”

Patrice smiled at the memory of Terry standing on her porch that fateful summer morning. “Yeah. He just…came back. We talked and never stopped talking after that until he became my husband.”

“Did he say sorry at least?”

“He always says sorry. All the time. He’s nice like that.”

A chorus of swooning ‘awws’ rang out in the classroom and escaped into the hallway. Terry was nice like that. It didn’t matter that Patrice wanted to hate him and call him every name but a child of God. He always apologized and he always meant it.

A distant smile covered Patrice’s face as she twirled her wedding band around her finger.

Camille took the opportunity to poke fun at her coach. “Aww, look at Mrs. Richmond, y’all. She smiling big! You gon’ let him come to the AP Christmas party?”

“That ain’t fair! I’m not in AP English and I wanna see him.”

“Oh my God, we all gon' see him at the games. Calm down.”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Patrice couldn’t contain her laughter at their eagerness to meet a man two times their senior with no interest in them outside of their connection to her. “Maybe you’ll meet him one day. Today, I need y’all to hurry up and-”

A knock at the door interrupted Patrice, bringing her attention to a tall, slender young man who instantly turned heads. He smiled bashfully at all the ogling until Patrice redirected his eyes with a wave of her hand.

“What’s up, Deanté? You leave something in here?”

“Nah. Coach Rich told us to bring some stuff to you. Where you want us to put it?”

“Umm, I guess you can put it back here by my bookshelves,” she directed, pointing to the back of the room. Confusion created fine lines on her forehead. “I’m sorry, what’s happening?”

Deanté shrugged in the way only teenaged boys too cool for school could before waving in the rest of his crew. Each of them came bearing the gift of snacks, carrying boxes of wholesale goodies to their intended place like worker ants serving their queen. Chips, cookies, pretzels, juices, and water stacked high along the wall instantly turned her quaint classroom into a stockroom until they’d delivered the final package. Bringing up the rear was Terry with flowers in one hand and a carryout bag from Patrice’s favorite bakery in the other.

Pressed khaki slacks and a cotton polo fighting for dominance against his veiny bicep should’ve thanked him for making them look better than they ever could alone. Patrice wrestled her gaze away from his long legs to look away before she ended up flustered in front of impressionable children.

He lightly knocked against the door, his gaze soft and his smile welcoming. “May I come in?”

Like the audience track from a 90s sitcom, young girls squeal in his presence, making him chuckle. Patrice rushed to control the madness.

“See, this is why I have to keep my eye on y’all. Head to the gym and warm up. I’ll meet y’all down there.” They groaned their displeasure in a last-ditch attempt to buy more time with Terry. She re-emphasized her instructions. “Go on. For every second I have to keep looking at y’all after I’m done talking, that’s a lap. One, two, three…”

Quick feet and the threat of additional exercise cleared the room quickly, leaving Terry at the doorframe waiting for permission to enter. Patrice stood and straightened her turtleneck before inviting him inside.

“Come in. Close the door behind you.”

Terry did as he was told in silence, hoping to appease the Queen in her castle. Patrice tried to remain stoic as she approached her portable lectern to thumb through the day’s notes and lesson plans. He deposited the flowers onto a nearby shelf then slid into a desk at the front of the class and waited for her to at least acknowledge him beyond a fleeting glance.

Finally, she looked up and pointed at the white bag resting in front of him. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah,” Terry smiled. “I haven’t seen you grab one in a while so I hope you still like the cinnamon roll. If not, I got the lemon loaf too. Your other favorite.”

After all those years separating their adulthood from an entire semester of sneaking away during lunch for a warm, doughy signature roll, Patrice couldn’t believe Terry still remembered such a trivial detail.

She bit her bottom lip to hide a smile as two short steps took her to the desk beside him. Metal creaked against the floor while they turned to face each other in seats too small for Terry who had come a long way from his high school physique.

Terry watched Patrice quietly remove her treat from the bag and cut it in half with a plastic knife. She carefully placed one side on a clean napkin and passed it across the small gap separating them.

She lifted her portion into the air and smiled a friendly smile. “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Their respective hunks of roll kissed the other briefly before they took big bites to satisfy early afternoon cravings. Terry chuckled as Patrice hummed her satisfaction with her eyes closed and shoulders lifted near her ears.

A little piece of Heaven. He was happy to provide anything other than the strife he contributed hours earlier.

“Thank you,” Patrice whispered once the delight of her first bite had passed and her eyes were open again. “It’s still my favorite. You were right.”

He didn’t respond past a small nod and a small half smile as he watched her enjoy another bite. His thumbs nervously twiddled around themselves while he wrote and erased apologetic statements in his mind in a search for what to say next.

“Treece, I can’t say enough how sorry I am.”

“We don’t need to do this. I overreacted and threw things in your face.” She started, trying to stop the uncomfortable discussion before it could start.

Terry remained steadfast. “No, you didn’t. You called me out and it was the right thing to do. I have been selfish and you’ve caught the brunt of that for a long time now. It’s not fair.”

“I just…fuck.” Tears that Patrice had managed to keep at bay during work forced their way past her waterline before she could stop them. She dabbed at them with a napkin and took a deep breath. “I’ve had to be really independent for a long time. Relationships didn’t stop me from doing things on my own because they convinced me that asking for help made me weak. Then you came along and immediately took on more than I could’ve ever asked.”

“That’s what I’m here for, baby.”

“Yeah, but when you stop all of a sudden or pick and choose when you wanna help, it makes me afraid that one day, you’re gonna stop altogether like everyone else. And I really, really can’t take you being like everyone else.”

Another layer of Patrice had been shed to leave behind an emotionally raw, vulnerable woman searching for an anchor in her life. The tears were gone, but they left evidence of deep-seated hurt on her face.

Terry reached across his desk for her hand which she offered without protest though she refused to look him in the eyes. He kissed her knuckles softly, paying special attention to her ring finger before lacing their fingers.

Sad eyes looked across at her. “You’re my main priority. If you want me to drop all this extra shit, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Say the word and it’s gone.”

“I don’t want that. Be honest with me. Listen to me. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Okay,” he spoke into the inside of her wrist. “Give me a chance to be better.”

“You already are.”

Where misunderstanding has once festered, a flower of progress bloomed. They’d traversed uncharted territory as a unit to find common ground that would lay the foundation for years to come.

Patrice made the first move toward reconciliation, standing from her desk to meet Terry at his side. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, tilting his head up to hers as she stood over him.

“I love you. Always. I might still be a little miffed, but I’ll get over it. Promise.” She landed a flurry of kisses on his forehead and he accepted while he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I understand. I’ll earn your trust again.”

Fuzzy feelings and chaste affection in what they believed was a safe space were cut short when a small yelp and thud sent a group of girls crashing to the tile floor, pushing her door ajar.

Patrice giggled along with Terry as she turned to get a look at the spectacle. “That’s what you get for being nosey. Now get to the gym for real this time.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Richmond,” they all chanted as they scrambled to stand and scatter.

Terry listened for them to exit hearing range before turning back to Patrice and leaning up to kiss her lips.

“I’ll be done with practice at 6:30 sharp and come straight home. Don’t worry about dinner or anything else. Let me handle it.”

“No problem.”

Final kisses and another promise to be home on time sent Terry and Patrice in opposite directions with optimism pumping through their veins. Tomorrow would bring its own storms and issues to work out. But, those were tomorrow’s problems.

Today, they’d lick their wounds and settle next to each other on the couch with love in their hearts and the taste of each other on their lips to make every hard time worth the end result.

-----

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justlemmeadoreyou · 7 months ago

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3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties. As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu."

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?"

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?"

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten.

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component.

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity.

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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eetherealgoddess · 7 months ago

Note

can you one with mikey where he is deeply in love with reader but she is oblivious and one night his dark impulses take control of him and he fucks he in her sleep??? love your content btww

thank you!! hope this turned out the way you wanted!! <3

ꨄTemptationꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Mikey Au

❦You didn’t know how tempting you were to those dark eyes❦

Sano Manjiro x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Temptation

The moonlight gleams through the cracked curtains, shining over the bed as a figure lies underneath the white comforter. You slumber, snug and warm as you lie on your stomach, one leg lifted as well as both of your arms though with bent elbows. Your other leg is planted straight down as your cheek meets the pillow. Light snoring echoed throughout the room as well as steady breathy. You were oblivious to the eyes gazing over your limp frame. He’s kneeled on the floor as his head lies on top of the arms that are crossed on the mattress in front of your face. His blonde strands hovering over his face, disheveled from his lack of care considering his sleepless nights.

Ever since he found a way to break into your room despite you still living at home, he hasn’t been able to keep himself away. He likes to visit you at night. It helps with easing the dark thoughts he succumbs to when he tries to fall asleep. His past haunts him, entrapping his mind with nothing but dark whispers of various impulses. The intrusive thoughts sneak up on him as a snake would before snapping the venom in their prey, trailed by the shadows of darkness looming over his back and reminding him that all he is meant to experience is suffering.

Ironically, sneaking into your room at night gives him a sense of normality. He can’t help but to live in the moment once you’re in the picture. A sane person wouldn’t think twice of you, having accidentally bumped into one another which resulted in you apologizing before running off. It didn’t make sense why he decided to follow you the rest of the day or command one of his gang members to search for more information about you. It doesn’t make sense why there isn’t a day he goes without thinking of you.

Maybe it was the sense of normalcy or distraction from his inner world. Maybe it was the qualities you had as a person that he found interesting after looking into you. The fact is that he is mesmerized by you. It’s been months since you first met, the accidental shove forever leaving a ghostly tingling sensation on his arm. He sits up for a moment, resting his elbows against the bed as both of his hands tangle through his hair, holding up his head as he eyes you with a half lidded gaze.

After a moment he stood up before slowly pulling the cover back, deciding to see more of you to get his fill. He gazed at your body that only consisted of a t-shirt and shorts. He loved to see the fabric of your bottoms wrapped tightly around your curves which is why his favorite nights are when you have them on.

He figured out that your sleeping habits vary. Sometimes he’d get there and you were in the middle of changing, scrolling through your phone, or… sometimes even catching you in the middle of a session with your sex toy. The tree next to your window and the space in your walk-in closet as well as the placement of your bed from across made those specific nights a lot easier to observe.

He uses a hand to caress your back gently before slightly lifting your shirt to reveal the skin on your lower back. His palm rubbed along the crease in which your derrière and back meet, squeezing your side before continuing his strokes, staring at your face cautiously. He bit his lip as he squeezed you once more, firmly as he watched your nose scrunch. He released your skin as he felt a tightness form in his pants.

It wasn’t his first time gaining an erection simply from gazing or touching you. In fact, there have been times he had rubbed his tense cock in your closet as you were watching porn, both of you orgasming together as he edged himself until you were ready for release. He’s used your clothes as towels and stole them. He’s also jerked off sitting right in front of you as you sleep on the bed, imagining all the different ways he can have his way with you.

The way your legs tense when the toy hits that spot that sends you into convulsion, your moans filling the air as well as the curses as you grind out your orgasm. Sometimes you’ll even repeat your sessions back to back, in search of the relief he wants to provide for you. He palmed his bulge as he reminisced those favorable moments. He looks down and gazes at his own hard on, his hair hovering over his face with his lips slightly parted as a red hue forms on his cheeks.

“Shit.” He whispered, feeling the overwhelming urge to climb on top of you. He just wanted to take a look at your wet pussy again. Leaning over to where he uses a hand to slide the leg nearest to open to gain a better viewpoint of your covered vagina. The tight shorts caused an imprint to outline the frame of your center. He glanced at you before gently connecting his fingers with your pussy, rubbing over the slit. He watched you as his middle finger moved to where your clit is hidden under the shorts, applying a still pressure to test the waters. Your hips twitched as you slightly readjusted but your eyelids stayed shut.

His fingers slid until he reached in between your ass cheeks, grazing over your covered anus before removing his hand all together. His torso bends over, crawling until he climbs over your legs. His hands connect with your shorts before he slowly pulls them down, revealing your naked bottom half as he tossed them to the side. He scoots to a better position over your legs and cupped both of your butt cheeks, squeezing and using his thumbs to caress the skin before spreading your labia with his fingers still planted on your ass.

He glanced at you to see your sleeping figure once more before he released you and shoved a hand into his pants. He lowers the lining of his underwear before pulling his cock from his pants. Deciding to ease some of the tension, he positions himself closer to your ass, using a hand to spread a cheek before pressing his cock in a downward position to where he could feel his head against your warm pussy.

He released a quiet grunt before lowering his torso on yours, basically hugging you as he eased his arms under yours, pressing his hips against you as he held it there. He thought he would have enough self control to not go all the way in since he just needed to feel you. It felt so good to feel your body against his, soft and warm. As time went on it was beginning to feel a little too good. He pressed down his hips before pulling back and repeating the same motion slowly in an attempt to not wake you up. He pants as the feeling becomes too hard to handle.

Deciding to just use the head of his cock, he licks his hand before lathering up his girth and using his fingers to position himself to your already wet vagina. He pushes forward slowly, your labia popping open wider as his tip stretches your hole. He accidentally released a moan as his head dropped, arms slightly shaking as they balanced himself over your figure.

“Oh fuck.” He hissed as he pushed in just a smidge more of a distance than before, stopping himself before he continued. It already feels like your pussy is sucking him in, the walls tightening the part of him already inside of you.

“So warm.” He groaned as he sat up more, breathing heavily with his lips apart as his head fell back. You slightly squirm against him as you attempt to reposition yourself, your leg that was bent moving down to where your feet are parallel. You wince as you take a deep breath before the slumber takes over once more.

He’s had to wait so long for this. He was having a hard time thinking rationally as all he wanted to do was shove his cock inside of you as deep as possible before forcing you to take all his cum. His hands reach the skin of your back under the shirt. His hips twitch back before he pushes back in, only his tip immersed in your walls. He can feel your pussy releasing more juice from the stimulation. Everything felt so hot.

He couldn’t take it anymore, lowering his upper body as he repositioned one of his arms under you and the other hand covering your mouth, lifting your head slightly. Your eyes finally flutter open into a squint, only just coming back to reality as you feel a heavy weight above you as well as a pressure from below.

“Forgive me, Y/n.” Your eyes widen at the low whisper before the hand tightens around your mouth and someone leaves a kiss on the back of your head before you feel a sharp pain in your core, causing a muffled grunt to leave your mouth as Mikey’s hips lock against yours in a swift motion.

He moaned when his hips smacked against your ass. You whimper at the pain as you attempt to push against the bed in an attempt to throw him off of you. You failed miserably, not even being able to move from your position because of his immense strength overpowering you from atop. You couldn’t even turn your head to see who the culprit is forcing themselves upon you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grunt loud from another hard impact from his thick cock.

“G-get off of me!” You attempt to scream but his hand only muffled your speech. Both of your bodies rock as he gains rhythm, his hair flailing as he grinds against you.

“Shhh.” He nibbles on your ear as he makes an attempt to quiet his own moans, not wanting to risk your parents walking in though if it happened, he wouldn’t have a problem with ridding himself of the inconvenience of their presence.

“M’ gonna find it and make you feel so fucking good, Y/n.” He says in your ear, forcing his fast strokes in deeper as he searches for the spot that has you quivering when he watches. Your nails impale the sheets as your grip tightens, the pain having resided once he found the spot, a moan escaping your lips.

“There it is.” He smirks before pressing his head against yours and closing his eyes. He continuously aimed to kiss your cervix as his head dropped to your neck, his lips connecting with the skin before he thrusts harder, rutting against you as he humps your backside. His cock is suffocated by the warm gummy walls inside of you, your juice lathering him as a natural lube as you reflexively push your ass against him, meeting his thrusts as your nipples harden against the bed.

“Th-this isn’t right!” You try to speak once more, struggling to push yourself off the bed as he adds more weight to your form, cock rubbing along your inner lining as your g-spot is assaulted. “I don’t even know you!”

“The only thing…” he breathes, “…that matters is my lo…” He pants as his eyebrows furrow before the smacking of his hips against your body becomes louder as he brings you both closer to your orgasms, his tip beating hard against your g-spot. You release a loud grunt followed by a moan as your hips move against him desperately.

“Ah fuck, baby this feels so good.” He hissed before his lips fell apart. Lowering his head, he rests it against your shoulder as he fucks into you with firm yet fast strokes. You bite your lip as your eyes shut tight, your hips bucking as you release a desperate moan, a wave of pleasure engulfing your abdomen as you orgasm on the stranger’s thick cock.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He whispers before his grip on your face and shoulder tighten, his hips rocking as he thrusts out his orgasm. You both pant as you catch your breath, his cock still inside of you before he slowly pulls his hips back causing a grunt to leave you both. You feel him kiss your shoulder and neck as your eyes widen in horror at the realization of your circumstances as he releases your mouth.

“W-who are you?! Y-you j-just…” You try to turn around to get a look of him but he only pressed your head against the pillow.

“When we get to know each other better, I’ll explain. For now, just know that you’re my wifey, okay?” He smiled, ignoring the look of confusion and fear that appeared on your expression.

“I-I don’t even know you! HE-!” He covers your mouth once more and leaned to your ear.

“I don’t want to kill your parents, Y/n. So don’t make me, okay? I’d like to meet your family properly.” Tears stream down your face as he tells you to close your eyes. You comply, shutting them tight as you feel his weight shift before completely disappearing.

“See ya next time.”

tbh i liked the request but idk if i liked how i wrote it

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sunflowerandstrawberryspice · 3 months ago

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CARMEN SANDIEGO? In 2024? It's more likely thank you think! Please excuse the shit quality for some reason I wasn't allowed to upload the normal pdf and I had to upload a fucking screenshot???

So my friend convinced me to watch Carmen Sandiego and since he's watching ALL of Ninjago for me I thought it was the least I could do to watch four season of a show with a pretty decent concept but uh... yeesh, don't get me wrong the show is really fun but lord have mercy does it have problems especially the last two seasons which were just so wildly disappointing to me. It went from a show with an interesting look on morals to pure pro-cop and mostly black and white thinking so quick (that not mentioning the breaking up a found family full of people with abandonment issues) it was honestly just so disappointing so me and the friend who introduced it to me decided to rewrite it! (I will not be animating nor do I plan on doing more than MAYBE a comic or art piece here and there because my chronic pain ridden ass can not handle that much lol)

The main goals are to:

1) Flesh out characters that aren't Carmen and actually give them reactions based on their lived experiences and how they might realistically react instead of what the show needed to move the plot along

2) Having characters other than Carmen be actually relevant to the plot the main one being Chase Devineaux who we're gonna kind of have as a parallel to Carmen (trust me yall) as kind of a "What if Carmen didn't have her friends/family to ground her and fall back on" but for all the Chase fans out there (gods I hope there's some other than me) he will be getting a happy ending but bro is getting put through the RINGER first

3) Have both A.C.M.E (now standing for Administration for Containing and Monitoring Evil) and V.I.L.E be the bad guys. Also just as an extra bit of fun we're making VILE a full blown cult, they were very cult like in the show so we're just gonna make it one. Both are going to be very morally questionable and while it'll take a bit longer for ACME to show it's true colors don't you worry they definitely will ;)

4) We're doing canonical lgbtq+ rep, I know the show teased a lot of relationships and really only gave yall background gays not to say thats bad but we can do better than just a brief shot of a damn taco truck. I mean like come on in a story about a young woman going against the government for the greater good why not put some rep into it ya know!

5) We're making it light sci-fi, not like SUPER high tech but definitely beyond what we've got currently, as shown with Carmen's prosthetic, and don't worry I'm doing my research as a disabled person I know how it feels to be misrepresented or ignored so I want to make sure I'm being realistic

6) PLAYER ISN'T GOING TO BE A CHILD! I don't know if this bothered anybody else but to me it was really weird that this 16 year old's only friends were in their 20s!

Alright I think that's what I'm gonna say for now, I'd love it if yall tuned in for updates if your curious since this is a passion project for me and my friend and we're having a blast writing it!

As always I am still working on stuff for Ninjago cause I could never abandon my one true love, currently there's a Pixal drawing in progress (it's giving me hell T-T) something for Cole and Geo, and something of Sora MAYBE even Euphrasia if I'm feeling up to it.

Having said that I hope yall have a great day/night and PEACE OUT!

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandeigo 2019 #carmen sandeigo fanart #redraw #rewrite #character design #Lowkey kind of an original piece of art at this point but OH WELL #lesbian #gay #lgbtqia #carmen sandiego ivy #carmen sandiego zack #chase devineaux #julia argent #We're changing a few surname/giving characters surnames btw #disability #art #digital art

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loserlvrss · 11 months ago

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꒰ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ꒱ 김규빈

summary : spending quality time with your boyfriend, gyuvin

genre : fluff, established relationship, gyuvin x gn!reader tws : language, pet names, cheating jokes author notes : always in my gyuvin era tbh ♡ word count : 1k

the twinkling of the fairy lights reflected on the sliding glass door out to your balcony. the gentle orange hue contrasted against the cold, mid-winter, night sky. you huffed out a satisfied laugh, touching one of the bulbs lightly to fix its position. you wanted everything to be perfect, and if you do say so yourself, it’s pretty damn near.

you turned around taking in the scenery of your living room. you had put down a couple cozy blankets, taking the fluffy pillows from your bed and lining them against the lower couch cushions. however, you didn’t imagine just stoping at a cute bed for you and your boyfriend to watch movies together on, you went all out and made a full-on fort out of some more extra blankets (which you had no lack of because of your niche obsession), bar stools and cream-colored ribbons. you even went as far as putting battery powered fairy lights (much like the ones lining the walls) inside the structure. oddly, it put you at ease, reminding you of your childhood. you had a bowl of snacks by the foot of the blankets, drinks resting against the plastic. your tv was turned on, the animated fireplace adding to the relaxed aura.

you texted gyuvin almost an hour ago, knowing that he was at dance practice with his members. you told him you had a surprise, knowing that he would be tired — especially with his comeback on its way. he replied excitedly, asking no short of questions back at you, to which you just ignored or told him he’d have to wait and see for himself. you weren't much of a romanticist, but gyuvin brought out sides of you, you truthfully didn't know existed somewhere inside. you guessed that's just what happens when you love someone; and that you really did.

you huffed, giving yourself a mental pat on the back. your attention was grabbed with a gentle ring of the doorbell echoing. your heart picked up pace in excitement, a smile plastering your face. you practically ran to the front door, turning off the lights in the process — so he could get the full experience right off the bat.

you swung the door inwards, your tall boyfriend staring down at you with an equally wide smile. you looked him over, hair still wet as if he got out of the shower put his shoes on and came to see you.

you playfully rolled your eyes, "you're going to get sick, love."

he pulled you into his chest, embracing you tightly, "not even a hello? i'll just go home and dry it then."

"hey, hey, i just spent an hour and a half setting your surprise up, so i'll just dry it."

little did you know, that's exactly what he wanted; he wasn't actually going to leave you over some stupid wet hair. he'd rather himself get sick.

you let him inside your house, waiting for him to tell you how much he liked what you've done with it. and once he did, you skipped off to the bathroom to find your hair dryer.

you came back out to your puppy-mannered boyfriend sitting in the fort, a bag of chips already in his hands. your smile borderlined dorky — painfully so — as you went and joined him.

"how was practice?" you asked, plugging the dryer into the nearest outlet (thanking whoever was out there that it was long enough to reach the two of you), "any cool new moves?"

"well, hanbin is good at tutting, so we added a little bit of that into the pre-chorus choreography." he explained, you sitting on your knees to be at a better height to dry his hair. you ran your hand through it, attempting to detangle it if needed. gyuvin practically melted into the touch. "otherwise, it was standard. tough, but we made it through."

the hum of the warm air filled the room, you making sure it was just right before putting it to his head. "well, you know i'm proud of you nine. your biggest supporter right here!" you boasted, "you know i'll always love you guys."

he turned abruptly, a chip between his lips, "but me more, right?"

the palm of your hand, playfully, pushed his head back to his original position, "obviously, you big baby."

"what did you do? miss me?"

"not even a little bit," you lied, "i watched some TV, did homework and then set up a pillow fort for my boyfriend. he should be here any second, you might want to hide."

you turned the dryer off, done with it, and set it aside. gyuvin spun around, his hands settling on your legs. "he sounds terrifying."

"oh, hardly." you laughed, "actually, the exact opposite to be honest."

he pouted, eyes staring directly into yours adoringly, "wow, i can't believe you'd make me your pretend side piece."

you ruffled his hair, "gotta keep my options open, baby."

"shut up," he said before pressing kisses to your face, and lastly your lips. you giggled, falling into him. "you know i'm your only one."

he embraced you, wrapping his long limbs around you like you were trapped. it was his way of showing you that you couldn't even imagine being without him now, and you never wanted to.

you turned to face him, hand coming up to his cheek. you kissed his nose gently, heart swollen with only love for him. he smiled, eyes closing at the contact. if this was just you being a couple of kids, you never wanted to grow up. he was everything to you, and you've pretended to love a lot of people before — this time it being more than real.

he snuggled in closer, pushing his head into the crook of your neck and tracing shapes on the skin of your side. you played with his hair until you heard the soft breaths taken against you; he had fallen asleep peacefully, with your heart pressed against him.

and you decided a long time ago that you'd always be by his side.

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

— perm tag list .ᐟ send an ask to be added c:

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goodlucksnez · 6 months ago

Text

So after listening to Zen's Wav, I had a idea to continue. So I gathered some friends and we continued the story with a little nod to @instarsandcrime as well!

So enjoy the continuation!

Al//astor: @onetrickponi

Lu//cifer: @zensations35

V//ox: @goodlucksnez

See below for script!

Alastor: Ah! The man of the hour! Just the person I was hoping to encounter…Now then. Time for a little r̴̈e̷͋g̵͛i̷͊c̷̉ǐ̵d̷̃ë̴́

Lucifer: Oh no…*sneeze* Not you again. What is it this time?

Alastor: As it turns out, sire, not only do you bestow hellish grace upon your subjects, but pestilence as well! ’Allergies.’ Hah! I should have known.

Lucifer: Well if someone hadn’t insisted I come on their show with only two days notice!

Alastor: Aha-hA! If someone would answer their phone more than once a month, your nibs–

*Lucifer sneezes*

Alastor: Well. Glad to see your smoky sternutations aren’t exclusive to my studio, at least. Goodness, I do hope this wallpaper is flame-resistant.*ṣ̶͐n̸̺͐ḙ̸̽e̸̲͂z̸̩͋i̷̠͐n̴̨̊g̸̩̿* Pardon.

Lucifer: Hey! Don’t bust out my lights! I’m working on an important project!

Alastor: And now no one has to see it! Pity. :)

*Voxtech Show Theme Plays*

Vox: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most electrifying news show in the multiverse! I’m your host, Vox, and I’m here to deliver the latest headlines with a dash of charisma, a sprinkle of wit, and a whole lot of tea *clinking cup* *cup falls*

Vox: *ignoring fallen cup* Tonight on our program we will go over the most recent broadcast from the King of Hell and the less important interviewer *cackle*

Vox: Ahh how good it feels in my studio! I must say our brand is perfection, it just won't do for anything Less. Than. That. *snigger*

Vox: Unlike a certain old tyrant my studio is made for the highest of royalty. So if any princes or kings want a real experience, come down to Vees tower and I would love to give you a personalized tour from the Man in Charge.

Alastor: *sneezing* Pompous, vicious little prick…

Lucifer: Ugh.. *sniff* I hate that guy…”Man in Charge”? And they call me prideful??

Vox: I mean really you just walk in, and it’s chaos. Papers everywhere, coffee stains on the desk, *laugh* it isn't even in a proper studio but an old water tower! Talk about tacky. Unprofessional, if you ask me. But here? Every cable is tucked away, every surface polished--

[Vox continues his spiel while Alastor sneezes]

Alastor: *sneezing*

Vox:-- to a mirror sheen. We believe in excellence, not just in our content but in our environment, that that is what VoxTex is here to provide you. So, when you tune in to our show, rest assured, you’re getting the crème de la crème. Quality, class, and cleanliness–

Alastor: That isn’t even properly alliterative…

Lucifer: Are you kidding me? His place is a walking fire hazard! Or, not walking. Standing? But I know fire hazards! Man, I wish I could just…*sneezes*

Alastor: HaHAh!…Well, then I’m sure you will appreciate this next bit, Sire.

Vox: *sniffling* *sneezing* I must apologize, my dear viewers *sneezing* but it seems that even the most prepared among us can be caught off guard. It appears I’m having a bit of a g̶͎͑-̵̓ͅg̵̪̑-̷̖͠G̴̥͒L̶̟̈I̷͈͑T̵̀͜C̸̣͝H̸̖͒—nothing serious, but we believe in safety first here at Vox industries.

*Vox continues sneezing throughout his spiel*

Vox: We’re all about transparency and this is as real as it gets. Fucking bitch! I’m going to step off for a moment to take care of this, and in the meantime, we’ll be ending today’s broadcast a tad earlier than scheduled. FuckI’mgonnafuckingkillhim--Our team is top-notch, and they’ll ensure everything is handled with the utmost professionalism. Thank you for your understanding. We’ll be back on air tomorrow, bright and shiny as ever, ready to bring you the stellar content you love.

Vox: Cut it! That fucking bitch, I know this is his doing I’m gonna kill him!!

Alastor: *sneezing* *laughing*

Lucifer: Hoh yeah! Highfive!

Alastor: I beg your pardon?

Lucifer: You…you just take your hand and…uhh…*high five sound*

Alastor: Mmm I suppose. But don’t make a habit out of this, sire.

Lucifer: Eheh…okay…

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vermilionsun · 6 months ago

Note

(Feel free to ignore this request if you’re not comfortable writing it)

may I ask for some headcannons for Ais and Vere (separately please) whose s/o suffers from depression? Thank you 💙

Sure thing! Disclaimer! They/them for s/o because we love inclusivity!

TW! Depression (obvi) I tried to make the headcanons as general and "light" as possible, since everyone experiences depression differently

If anyone wants more angst or heavier/darker themes, send a req

And always remember; Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Vere

✦ Unlike with most things, Vere isn’t here to play around. Due to his apathetic exterior and ribald attitude, most people tend to underestimate his ability to care about anyone other than himself, yet that's far from the truth. In reality, Vere is fiercely loyal to those he cares about and will go to great lengths to protect them, even if it means putting himself in harm's way a̶n̶d̶ r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ t̶h̶e̶ S̶e̶n̶o̶b̶i̶u̶m̶'s̶ c̶o̶l̶l̶a̶r̶.

✦ He is there, okay? Even if he has to remind his beloved every other minute, he will.

✦ He will become their biggest supporter and advocate, their cheerleader in times of need, the person who will always be there to lift them up when they are feeling down.

✦ He is there to listen, to offer aid, and to provide a comforting presence and a fluffy tail during difficult times.

✦ Encourages them to seek a professional therapist or psychiatrist if needed and haven't already received such help. He will find the best resources and support available in all of Eridia. Plus, he offers to accompany them to their appointments.

✦ If he feels something's wrong with his s/o while other people are around, he will find a discreet way to ask them if they are okay or need to talk later in private. His s/o's well-being is his top priority.

✦ In addition, he always makes sure to check in with his s/o regularly to see how they are feeling. This includes visiting during work hours, bringing them their favorite snacks, and being available to listen whenever they need to talk—even if he has to sneak away.

✦ He'd get meals for his s/o when they are feeling down or stressed, run errands, or simply spend quality time together.

✦ He believes in showing his love and support through actions, not just words, and that small gestures of love can make a big difference. He always goes the extra mile through various small gestures or grand displays of affection—a surprise date night, a gift, a sketch of them, a handwritten love letter.

✦ Of course, if his s/o feels overwhelmed, he will respect their space and give them the time they need to themselves.

Ais

✩ He will prioritize his s/o’s well-being and make sure they know they are not alone in their struggles.

✩ He isn’t the type to push his s/o to talk about their feelings, but he’s there to will offer a listening ear without judgment, a shoulder to cry on, and a comforting hug when needed.

✩ This man is the E P I T O M E of patience.

✩ He will encourage his s/o to go outside, and find excuses to take them out with him.

✩ Otherwise, if they were staying home for extended periods of time, he’d make sure to distract them with activities they enjoy.

✩ Did I mention he's the word "comfort" personified?

✩ If there are other people around, he'd keep an eye on them and see how they're feeling. If he notices that they're getting overwhelmed or uncomfortable, he'll get them alone or somewhere less busy.

✩ He'd be more protective, a̶s̶ i̶f̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶'s̶ p̶o̶s̶s̶i̶b̶l̶e̶, making sure they have everything they need and checking in on their well-being.

✩ He'd encourage them to look for a therapist or counselor who specializes in depression to help them better understand and cope with it. He'd be there every step of the way.

✩ He'd always remind them that it's okay to not be okay sometimes, that they are not alone in their struggles, and that he will always be there to support them through all of it; there to listen, there to support, and there to love them.

#verewrites #red spring studios #ais #vere #headcannons #ts vere #ts ais #touchstarved game #touchstarved headcanons #touchstarved #ais headcanons #vere touchstarved #ts

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queenshelby · 7 months ago

Text

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Nine: Blackout

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Friday came around quickly, and you couldn't help but feel tense throughout the day. You tried to shake off your nerves, telling yourself that this was just one date, nothing more, but you couldn't ignore the flutter in your chest.

After your last class of the day, you went home and took extra care preparing yourself for the evening and even though this was no more than dinner and a movie at your own house, you wanted to make an effort.

You chose a simple black cotton dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, and your hair rested loosely on your shoulders.

Your makeup was subtle yet elegant, drawing attention to your eyes and your lips shone with a hint of red gloss.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, your thoughts turned to Cillian and you wondered if he was as nervous as you were.

Your mind began to wander as you thought about the potential outcome of this date. Would it just be a simple dinner and movie, or would it lead to something more? After all, you had slept with each other before, crossing the professional line, which was what, in the end, had led to this mess and confusion now.

The sex was surprisingly good, even though he was young and probably lacked experience. He was attentive and eager to please, and there was something incredibly attractive about his youthful enthusiasm.

After that night, you tried your best to avoid him, both at work and outside of it. You knew that what had happened between you two was a mistake, but it was hard to forget that one explosive encounter. Now, as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire deep in your core.

You shook your head, trying to ward off the thoughts of Cillian that threatened to consume you. It was just one date, you told yourself. One date to clear the air, to establish some boundaries. That's all this was and there was no way that you could possibly cross that boundary again.

At around 6 o'clock, your doorbell rang, breaking you out of your reverie. You took a deep breath and made your way to the door. Cillian stood there, wearing a fitted navy blue shirt that emphasized his toned physique, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation as you opened the door.

"Wow, you look incredible Miss Y/LN," he breathed, his deep blue eyes sweeping over you in appreciation.

Despite yourself, you blushed at the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you, Cillian," you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

He picked up two bags of groceries which he had momentarily placed on to the floor and, as he passed you, you caught a whiff of his cologne -- a musky, woodsy scent that sent a shiver down your spine. You closed the door behind him, and when you turned around, he was standing in the middle of your kitchen, placing the bags on the counter. He looked around curiously, taking in the familiar surroundings of your home.

"Nice place," he said and the softness in his voice caught you off guard, made your pulse quicken.

"You have been here before," you chuckled , trying to keep things light-hearted and casual.

"Well, that time, I didn't really notice because I was too distracted by you," he replied with a smirk, his deep blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

You tried not to get drawn in by his charisma, but it was hard to resist. He was charming and unapologetically confident - two qualities that you found incredibly attractive.

"What's for dinner?" you asked, eager to change the subject and diffuse the tension that was building between you two.

"Uhm, spaghetti I think," he replied, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment before he turned his attention back to the groceries.

"You think?" you chuckled , raising an eyebrow at him. "Well, I hope you know what you're doing. I'm quite hungry," you eased.

Cillian looked up at you, his deep blue eyes meeting your gaze. "Don't worry, Miss Y/LN. I've got this covered," he said, a hint of a challenge in his voice that made your heart race.

"You really need to call me Y/N while we are here, on our own," you reminded him, your voice a little softer than usual.

"Sure thing, Y/N," he said, his eyes gleaming at the sound of your name.

You watched as he removed the ingredients from the bag, setting out the pasta, tomatoes, onions, garlic and spices on the countertop. His movements were intentional and fluid, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation as you imagined him touching you the same way.

Cillian glanced over at you and caught you staring. "You know, I actually never cooked for anyone before, I hope I don't mess it up." Cillian's voice broke through your thoughts, making you snap back to reality.

"I am here to help, you know," you said, as you made your way over to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the barstools with a glass of wine before pouring one for Cillian as well. He smiled appreciatively as he took the glass from you, setting it down on the counter next to him.

"Now, where are the knives and chopping boards ?" Cillian asked, searching through the cabinets.

"They're over there, by the stove," you said, pointing to a cabinet near the sink.

He opened it and retrieved the necessary items, setting them down on the counter next to the ingredients. You watched as he began chopping the tomatoes and onions with some struggle, but determination. It was oddly endearing to see him put so much focus and effort into something so simple, but it only added to his attraction.

"Here, let me show you an easier way to chop these onions," you said, sliding off the barstool and making your way over to the counter. You stood beside him, your arms brushing against his as you demonstrated the proper technique. It was impossible not to notice the current between you, even as you worked side by side.

"You smell really nice," he commented, his eyes flicking up briefly to meet yours before returning to the task at hand.

"Uhm, thanks," you whispered while moving aside again, allowing him some space. Your heart raced, but you couldn't tell if it was from the thrill of being so close to him or from the anxiety of what might come. You poured another glass of wine as he continued to cook and chop, lost in thought, until he tried to put on the stove.

"How does this work? It's not turning on," Cillian said, frowning at the stove.

"Let me help you. This old stove can be a little fickle at times," you offered, walking over to the stove and bending down to examine it. As you leaned closer, your chest brushed against Cillian's arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you both. You glanced up at him, and he was looking down at you with an intense expression. His gaze lingered on your lips for a moment, and your heart skipped a beat. It took all your strength to pull away and show him how to turn on the stove.

"There you go," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, causing Cillian to smile.

"Thanks ," he muttered, his eyes locked on yours for a moment too long.

As you both stood there, the tension between you grew heavier, like an invisible thread trying to pull you together. The air felt charged and thick, and it only became more apparent when you caught a glimpse of his hand reaching towards your face , tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver down your spine and brought goosebumps to your skin. It had been so long since you've allowed someone this close.

"You know, Y/N, I really like your hair down. It suits you," Cillian murmured, his deep blue eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't help but blush at the sincerity in his voice and the way he looked at you made your heart race.

You stepped back, trying to create some distance between you two before your resolve weakened. "Let me get the pasta cooking while you finish chopping the rest of the vegetables," you said, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy.

As you busied yourself with the pasta, the silence in the kitchen became palpable. You could feel Cillian's gaze on you, but you were too afraid to meet his eyes.

You didn't want to risk getting lost in their depths again, allowing yourself to feel the intense attraction that had led you to this moment. You focused on cooking the pasta, letting the rhythmic movement of stirring the pot center you as you pushed away the rising desire.

Finally, Cillian broke the silence. "So, what movie do you want to watch later? I mean, what sort of stuff do you like?" Cillian asked as he placed the chopped vegetables into the sizzling skillet of garlic and olive oil. The sound of the sizzling and popping of the food filled the already charged silence.

"I'm not really fussy when it comes to movies," you replied almost distractedly as you kept your focus on stirring the pasta, trying to maintain some sort of composure. "As long as it's a good story, I'll watch anything."

Cillian nodded in agreement, "I did bring a few from with me from home. You can pick one, if you like," Cillian suggested as he mixed the chopped vegetables around in the pan.

"You came prepared, I see," you replied with a small smile playing on your lips as, suddenly and somewhat unexpectedly, the power went out.

The kitchen lights flickered wildly before dousing the room in complete and utter darkness, leaving you both momentarily stunned.

"Fuck that was unexpected," Cillian muttered under his breath, finding his voice first.

You attempted to laugh it off nervously, aware of the sudden change in atmosphere and how intensely close Cillian was standing behind you.

"Let me get a torch, hang on," you said, fumbling around in a drawer for a flashlight. As you turned around, your knee accidentally brushed against Cillian's in the darkness causing tingling sensations to ripple through your body.

"Careful," Cillian murmured softly, your ears detecting the hint of mirth and intrigue simmering in his tone. You found the flashlight, switching it on as your eyes slowly began adjusting to the sudden bright light that carved through the darkness. It was like an ethereal spotlight illuminating only what was directly before you both.

Using the flashlight, you looked out of the window and noticed that all of the houses surrounding your building were in the dark.

"I think there might be a complete power outage," you said, directing the beam of light towards Cillian who had been quietly observing you.

"Well, I guess we'll have to skip the movie tonight," Cillian replied. "But at least dinner is ready, I suppose," he said, seeing that you had almost finished cooking.

You nodded nervously, not entirely hating the idea of spending more time with Cillian without the distraction of a movie.

"True that. I will find some candles, if you would like to dish out the food?" you suggested, hoping that Cillian wouldn't read too much into the situation.

"Sure," Cillian confirmed while you handed him to plates before disappearing into the living room to look for some candles.

You found a box of long white candles on a shelf in the living room, along with some matches. You grabbed them and returned to the kitchen where Cillian was waiting.

The sight of Cillian in your kitchen, the soft glow from the flashlight illuminating his face, made your heart beat faster. He looked so at home in your space, like he belonged there.

It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling, having someone else in your house, especially someone as young and handsome as Cillian. You tried to shake off the thought, reminding yourself that this was only temporary, that after this night things would go back to normal.

You lid the candles and placed them around the kitchen, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. Cillian had finished plating the food, and you both sat down to eat at the kitchen table.

As you twirled your spaghetti around your fork, you couldn't help but steal glances at Cillian. He seemed so sure of himself, so confident. And yet, there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, something that made him all the more attractive.

"I am somewhat glad that the power went out, to be honest," Cillian admitted, breaking the silence between you both. "It's kind of romantic, don't you think?" Cillian said with a smile, his deep blue eyes meeting yours in the soft glow of the candles.

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep your composure even though you couldn't deny the fluttering feeling in your chest. "You think this is romantic?" you eventually asked, attempting to downplay the situation.

"Yeah, kind of...I think," he stammered, his voice low and earnest. "I mean, it's just us, in your house, with candles and food. It feels inttimate somehow," Cillian explained, his words causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

You nodded in agreement, surprised by the sudden shift in the atmosphere between you two. "I guess you're right," you said, feeling the tension between you grow stronger with every passing moment.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the clinking of silverware against plates and the soft murmur of contentment as you both enjoyed the meal that Cillian had made. But as time passed, the silence grew heavier, like a thick blanket settling over the room.

You could feel Cillian's gaze on you, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he feeling the same tension that you were? Was he experiencing the same longing, the same desire?

Finally, you looked up at him, locking eyes in the flickering candlelight. You could see the heat building in his deep blue eyes, and it made your stomach clench with anticipation.

"Do you like boardgames?" Cillian asked suddenly, breaking the thick silence that had enveloped the room.

You raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at the sudden change of topic. "Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

"If you have any games, we could play one after dinner if you like ," Cillian replied casually, as if he hadn't just ignited a spark of excitement in your chest. "My family used to play games a lot together when I was growing up, and I always found it was fun during blackouts."

You considered his suggestion for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Sure, that sounds like a great idea actually." You couldn't remember the last time you had played a board game as your ex husband hated them with a passion, always preferring to bury himself in his work.

After dinner, you scanned the living room for any games you might have forgotten about. "Ah, here we go." You picked up an old Scrabble set from a dusty shelf. "Do you want to play this?" you asked, holding up the game.

Cillian nodded eagerly, taking the game from your hands. "Scrabble is a classic," he said, flashing you a toothy grin that sent butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"But I have to admit, I do have a bit of an unfair advantage."

"Unfair advantage?" you asked with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He smirked mischievously. "I am the unbeaten scrabble champion in my family, you know."

You couldn't help but laugh, his energy and enthusiasm infectious. The tension between you two had dissipated slightly, replaced by an ease and comfort that was surprising yet welcome.

"Well then, bring it on then!" you challenged Cillian with a playful smile, feeling the tension ease between you two. You grabbed some paper and a pen to keep score as he opened the game board and began to sort the tiles on the coffee table in front of you.

You both sat down on a cushion, with a glass of wine, in front of the coffee table. The power outage had put a different spin on things, and instead of getting lost in your own worries, you found yourself enjoying Cillian's company. He had a brilliant mind and an easygoing manner that made it impossible not to like him.

You watched in amusement as he craftily laid out his first word on the board, earning himself a good amount of points.

You followed suit, creating your own word next to his and enjoying the back-and-forth challenge of trying to outmaneuver one another. The game was intensifying with every move, and before you knew it, an hour had passed since you started playing, during which you did a lot of talking as well.

As Cillian reached for another tile, he paused for a moment and looked up at you. "You know, Y/N," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I really appreciate this."

"Appreciate what?" you asked, taken aback by the sudden earnestness in his tone.

"This. Being here with you, it's just really nice," Cillian replied, his deep blue eyes meeting yours in the soft glow of the candles.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and for a moment, the barrier you had put up cracking just a bit.

"Thank you, Cillian," you said softly, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I'm glad you're here," you told him , holding his gaze for a few more moments before looking away.

You both continued to play the game quietly now, unlike before where you talked a lot about common interests. But now, you were trying to ignore the heat simmering between you. The flickering candles cast deep shadows on your faces, highlighting your flushed cheeks and the longing in your eyes. You were acutely aware of how close Cillian was sitting next to you, and of how the air between you both crackled with tension.

Finally, after what felt like hours of willful ignorance, Cillian set down his tiles and one of his hands reached out to you, brushing your thigh.

"I think you won. It's getting late," you said quietly then as those blue eyes of his were burning into you.

"I know. But if this is really the only date I get, I don't want this night to end," Cillian replied, his voice ragged with desire. He took a deep, steadying breath as he leaned closer to you, his hand tightening on your thigh.

You let out a shaky sigh as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles on your skin. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and your heart pounded in your chest.

With trembling hands, you reached up to touch his face. The stubble on his jaw scratched at your palm, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the raw desire in them, and it only served to fuel your own need.

Without a word, Cillian closed the distance between you and claimed your mouth with his. His lips were soft against yours, but the urgency of the kiss was anything but gentle. He nipped at your bottom lip, demanding entrance and, after not too long, you obliged.

You moaned as his tongue entered your mouth, tasting of the wine you shared earlier in the evening. You matched his intensity as you lost yourself in the moment, the two of you searching for some friction to alleviate the ache that had been building within you since first laying eyes on him.

As you began to writhe on the floor in front of him, Cillian pulled back from your lips and looked down at your flushed face, panting and ready for whatever he was going to do next.

"We should not be doing this again ," you whispered between ragged breaths, your mind a fuzzy mess of conflicting emotions and pure desire. Part of you knew that what was happening between you both was wrong, but there was another part of you, deep down inside, that craved for the pleasure only Cillian could give you.

"I know," he replied huskily as he began to tug at the buttons on your black cotton dress, exposing your lacy white bra and the rosy tips of your breasts.

You gasped as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your cleavage, sending shivers down your spine.

"I shouldn't want you as much as I do. I shouldn't be doing this," you murmured between shallow breaths, even as your hands snaked around his neck and pulled him closer.

"But you do, and I want you too. And right now, that's all that matters," Cillian whispered back, his voice laced with determination and desire.

He tugged at your dress and, of course, you got the message and quickly pulled over your head , leaving you in only your white lacy bra and matching underwear.

Cillian let out a low growl as he took in the sight of your bare flesh, his eyes roving over every inch of you like a starving man granted access to a lavish feast.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're so beautiful," he murmured, and you could already see his erection straining against his jeans.

"So are you," you told him as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. "You're so fucking handsome, Cillian."

Cillian's lips curved upwards in a pleased smile as you finished unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his toned chest. Without hesitating, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his firm pecs. His breath caught as your tongue darted out to taste him, leaving a trail of moisture in its wake. He tasted like sweat and musk, it was intoxicating.

Cillian responded by running his fingers through your hair, tugging gently at the roots.

You couldn't help but moan at the sensation, your body arching into his touch. He took advantage of your reaction by shifting you closer to him, your thighs straddling his.

The friction from the denim of his jeans and the lace of your thong sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every passing second, all reason fleeing your mind as your desire for Cillian became paramount.

"Come on, I will show you my bedroom," you panted, breaking the kiss for a moment as you stood up from the floor.

Cillian wasted no time responding to your invitation, quickly standing up and following you out of the living room and towards your bedroom with an eager look in his eyes.

As soon as he entered the room, he pulled you close to him again, his hands roaming over your bare skin as he hungrily devoured your lips once more. You eagerly pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him once more as you ground your hips against his denim clad erection.

"Tell me how much you want me!" you told Cillian as you unclasped your bra, freeing your breasts. "Say it!" you demanded, your voice breathy and dripping with need. Your hips continued to grind against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "I want you. I want you so fucking bad."

His words sent a jolt of desire straight to your core, and you couldn't help but moan at the intensity of it all.

"And what do you want to do to me?" you then asked before reaching for one of his hands and bringing it up to your breast.

He squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple, eliciting a shudder of pleasure from you.

"Fuck, Y/N, I want to do so many filthy things to you," Cillian replied, his voice husky and strained with desire.

"Be specific!" you demanded, biting your bottom lip as you scooted back a little to unbutton and unzip his jeans. "What filthy things?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you pulled his jeans down, his boxers following suit. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of his cock, hard and ready for you.

"I want to taste you, Y/N," Cillian growled, his hand reaching up to tangle in your hair. "I want to taste every inch of you."

You moaned at the thought, your body already trembling with need as you moved off him for a second to allow him to get rid of his jeans and briefs completely, looking slightly awkward while he did so.

"So you want to taste my pussy? Is that what you want?" you smirked as you elegantly wiggled yourself out of your lacy thong.

"Yes , that's exactly what I want," Cillian confirmed, his stare locked onto the moistness glistening between your legs.

You shivered at the intensity of his desire and at the anticipation building inside you as you crawled back onto the bed, positioning yourself over his face.

"Then go ahead," you said as you lowered yourself onto his mouth, granting him access to your warm and wet pussy.

Cillian let out a pleased growl and immediately started exploring you with his tongue.

You moaned as he licked and sucked at your clit, his tongue probing at your entrance before diving back to your swollen nub. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on you.

Your moans grew louder and more frequent as he devoured you, the pleasure building inside of you like a pressure cooker threatening to explode. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your muscles tensing up in anticipation of the release that was fast approaching.

Being so young, he was surprisingly good with his tongue, his skill only matched by the masterful way he kneaded your ass, priming you for the next step.

"God damn it, don't stop!" you panted, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him in place as his tongue bore down on that one spot, leaving you writhing and panting. "Don't fucking stop!"

But Cillian had no intention of stopping. If anything, this was just a precursor of what was to come.

You ground your hips down, desperately chasing the elusive climax that teased you from beyond the horizon. Cillian responded in kind by slipping two fingers inside of you with ease, and hitting that spot that sent pleasure cascading through your entire body.

"Oh shit! Oh shit!" you cried out as your orgasm hit. You could feel yourself gripping onto Cillian like he was the only lifeboat available to you in a stormy sea of pleasure. Your thighs quivered around his head, your toes curled, and your back arced.

The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful. Your orgasm seemed to last forever, ripping through you with wave after wave of ecstasy and Cillian kept on going.

"Enough! Fuck , oh fuck, Cillian, enough!" you eventually managed to gasp in between breaths as your orgasm finally subsided. Your entire body felt like a wrung out towel but Cillian wasn't done yet.

"Uh-uh , there's more where that came from." Cillian smirked and flipped you onto your back before his head disappeared in between your legs again.

"No, no! There is no more! You need to stop! I can't take it anymore," you pleaded, but Cillian ignored your cries. He continued to thrust his fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that made you cry out in ecstasy before from an even better angle now.

"Hmm, you have the most fucking perfect pussy I have ever seen," he murmured against you, causing your hips to buck upwards in response.

You couldn't help but moan again, your hips gyrating with pleasure as he went back to feasting on you.

This time, his fingers curled upwards , massaging that spot inside of you that made stars explode behind your eyes.

"Shit, Cillian, fuck!" you cried out as another orgasm threatened to shatter your very being.

You writhed and bucked, your hips seemingly moving of their own accord as he refused to let up.

And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue, before sliding two fingers back in and teasing your clit with his thumb.

It was too much and yet not enough.

You could feel your body spiraling towards the edge, but just as you were about to fall over, Cillian would change tactics, drawing out your pleasure until you were begging for release.

"Please, Cillian," you moaned, your voice hoarse from all the moaning and crying out and he clearly loved it when you begged. "I can't take it anymore. It's too much."

But Cillian didn't stop. Instead, he increased his pace, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit rapidly as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of you with just the right amount of force.

You cried out, your entire body trembling as another orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. It was so intense that you saw stars behind your closed eyelids, your vision going white for several long moments as a warm stream of your arousal flooded over Cillian's chin.

Cillian didn't seem to mind the taste, lapping up every last drop of your release with obvious relish before finally sitting back on his heels, seemingly content to let you rest for a moment. He looked debauched and dirty and fucking perfect, his lips stained from your arousal and an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

"So how did I do?" Cillian asked, looking up at you with a smug grin.

You were still trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you tried to summon enough energy to speak. "You...you did good," you finally managed to gasp out.

Cillian chuckled and leaned forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. "Just good?" he teased, pulling back just enough so he could look you in the eyes.

"Fucking amazingly good," you corrected, finally finding your voice. "Almost too good, actually!"

"Jesus, and I thought you were stickler for the use of correct grammar," Cillian chuckled, crawling back up your supine body. His lips peppered kisses down your neck and collarbone before he settled to kneel between your legs once more.

You chuckled, still slightly out of breath from the two intense orgasms that had just rocked your world. "You're right, I am a stickler for grammar and proper sentence structure, but my brain seems to have turned to mush from what you just did to me."

Cillian's face split into a wide grin as he looked down at you with pure adoration. "You know you look so fucking sexy when you loose control," he murmured, and even through your post-orgasmic haze, you couldn't help but blush at his words. "And I can't believe you squirt. Fuck, I only ever seen this in movies and magazines, you know. It's so fucking hot," Cillian continued, his voice still holding wonder in it, causing you to laugh.

"Trust me, that makes two of us. I didn't know I would do that either. But I am glad I could make your pornographic fantasies become a reality. You are welcome," you laughed, still catching your breath as Cillian hovered over your body.

You had never experienced anything like what he had just done to you, and part of you still couldn't believe it had actually happened. But as Cillian looked down at you with a hunger in his eyes, you knew he was far from finished.

His hair was disheveled from where you had tugged on it, his lips reddened from your kisses and your taste still lingered on his tongue.

You reached up to him, tracing the curve of his jaw with your fingers, marveling at the roughness of stubble against the pads of your fingers.

Cillian captured your hand in his, pressing a lingering kiss to the palm before he used it to pull you up to a seated position.

Your breasts brushed against his bare chest, a shiver running down your spine as you felt the firmness of his muscles beneath your fingertips.

"It's my turn now to taste you," you breathed in Cillian's ear, causing goosebumps to break out across his skin.

With one swift movement, you pushed him onto his back and your head disappeared between his legs, your tongue sweeping across the already damp tip of his cock.

Cillian sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the heat of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue against him. His hands found their way into your hair, fisting the strands as you licked and sucked your way down his length.

You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your tongue, tasting the musky saltiness of his skin and the smoothness of his shaft. You could feel Cillian's hips bucking beneath you, his movements urgent and needy.

"You have such a perfect cock ," you told him between sucks, enjoying the shudder that ran through him at your words. "It tastes so good."

You hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper, your nose brushing against his coarse pubic hair as you finally took him all the way in.

Cillian let out a guttural moan, his fingers tightening in your hair as you deep throated him while, all at the same time, playing with his balls. The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down his spine. He had never experienced anything like this before, and he knew that he would never forget the feel of your mouth on him, the sound of your moans of pleasure as you sucked him deeper into your throat.

You pulled back, gasping for air and leaving a string of saliva connecting Cillian's cock to your lips. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, your lips shiny with spit and pre-cum.

Cillian groaned at the sight, his entire body trembling as he tried to hold back. His hips bucked upwards, chasing your mouth as you pulled back, teasing him.

"You like that, don't you?" You purred, your fingers drifting down to cup his balls as you pressed open-mouthed kisses against his muscular thighs. "You like having my mouth on your cock."

Cillian couldn't speak, but his response was obvious as he let out a strangled moan in answer.

His hips continued to push upwards, seeking out your mouth as you trailed wet kisses back up his shaft.

"Y/N, I'm going to cum," Cillian warned, his voice strained and ragged. "You need to stop, fuck."

You gave him a mischievous grin before taking him back in your mouth, swallowing everything he had to offer and only pulling away when he was spent and trembling beneath you.

"I want you to cum in my mouth, Cillian ," you said, your voice low and sultry as you looked up at him from beneath your lashes.

Cillian groaned at the sight of you, your swollen lips and the glistening sheen of saliva and pre-cum coating your chin and lips. You reached up to stroke him gently before leaning in to take him back in your mouth.

You felt Cillian's body tense beneath your touch, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled you closer to him, burying himself in your throat once again.

You moaned around him, your fingers wrapping tighter around his shaft as you stroked him in time with your mouth.

Cillian's hips began to buck wildly, his back arching off the bed as he lost himself in the pleasure coursing through him.

You could feel him twitching in your mouth, the salty taste of his pre-cum mixing with the musky essence of his arousal on your tongue.

"Fuck, Y/N! I'm gonna cum!" Cillian shouted, his voice ragged and raw with pleasure.

You felt his cock swell and pulse in your mouth, the first spurt of his warm, salty release coating your tongue as you tried to collect his load in your mouth.

Cillian let out a guttural groan as he emptied himself, his fingers still fisted in your hair, holding you in place as your cheeks filled out with his seed until, finally, he was done. His hips stuttered against your face, his entire body shuddering with pleasure as he rode out the last waves of his release.

You opened your mouth to show him the pearly liquid coating your tongue, before swallowing it down with a filthy little grin.

Cillian groaned as he looked down at you, his cock still twitching in the aftermath of his orgasm. A small amount of cum had spilled out of the corner of your mouth and was slowly dribbling down your chin.

You smiled at him, a wicked glint in your eyes as you collected the droplets with your index finger before, suggestively, licking it off your finger.

Cillian's chin dropped open at the sight, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of your licking your lips, enjoying the taste of him.

"Fuck that's the hottest thing I've ever seen," he breathed, still in a daze from the orgasm you had just given him.

You grinned at him, your face still flushed with pleasure and desire. "So you liked it?"

"Liked it? I fucking loved it," Cillian replied, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his orgasm.

"Good, but I still need your cock inside me though," you told him, your voice raspy with desire as you watched him hardening again almost instantly at your words.

"Wow, that was easy," you said with a hint of surprise in your voice, stroking his hardness.

Cillian chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows. "With you it is," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn't felt in a long time. It was more than just lust or desire. It was a sense of closeness, of intimacy, that went beyond the physical act of sex.

"I want you inside me," you whispered, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

"Then take what you need. I am all yours," Cillian said, his voice thick with desire as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together.

You gasped as you felt his hardness pressing against the apex of your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him as you leaned in to kiss him deeply.

Maneuvering your body, you positioned yourself over his hardness and sunk down onto him with a deep groan.

Cillian's head fell back as you took him in, his fingers gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned as you began to move, shifting your hips back and forth, riding him with a slow and sensual pace.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you continued to rock your hips, allowing his length to fill you to accommodate him completely.

You moaned, your hips moving in a steady rhythm as every nerve in your body seemed to come alive with pleasure.

Cillian's breath hitched as you began to move, his hands moving up from your hips to cup your breasts. He circled your nipples with his thumbs, eliciting gasps of pleasure from you as he pinched and twisted them lightly.

"Oh fuck, Cillian," you breathed, throwing your head back as you ground your hips down against him. "You feel so fucking good inside me," you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Cillian groaned in response, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrust upwards to meet you. "You feel incredible, Y/N," he grunted, each word punctuated by a thrust of his hips. "So fucking tight and wet."

His words ignited a fire deep within you, sending shivers down your spine as you began to move faster, your body moving in a primal rhythm that seemed to have a life of its own.

You could feel the tension building within you once more, your muscles tensing up as you chased after another orgasm.

Cillian's hips met yours with every thrust, his fingers digging into your flesh as he too chased after his own release. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips leaving wet trails of kisses as he murmured filthy words of encouragement and desire. Cillian growled, his voice barely above a whisper as he nipped at your earlobe.

"I can't hold back much longer, Y/N," he moaned and you shivered at the sound of his voice, the roughness of it causing your core to clench around him.

"Then don't," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the moans and gasps that slipped past your lips with each thrust. "Cum for me, Cillian. Cum inside me," you told him, knowing that the feeling of it would also send you over the edge.

Cillian didn't need any more encouragement. He pushed himself up and back, rolling you over so that he was now on top. His thrusts became faster, harder, building up a friction that had both of you panting and moaning in pleasure.

You could feel yourself getting close, and so could Cillian. He reached between the two of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb as he continued to thrust into you.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned, raising your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Don't stop, Cillian. Don't you dare fucking stop."

Cillian groaned at your words, his hips snapping forward with even more force as he felt you clenching around him. He could feel himself getting close, the familiar tightness in his balls signaling that his release was imminent.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside of you, letting out a guttural moan as he came hard, filling you up with his seed.

The feeling of him pulsing inside you, the slick wetness between your thighs, and the aftershocks of your own orgasm all contributed to the heady mix of pleasure and satisfaction that washed over as you came as well. Hard and fast.

"Oh god yes," you moaned as you writhed beneath him, your hips still moving, milking every last drop out of him as he slowly came down from his high. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, sweat dripping down your forehead as you looked up at Cillian with a sated grin.

"Holy shit," Cillian whispered, still trying to catch his own breath.

His forehead was pressed against yours, sweat dripping down between the two of you as you lay there in blissful silence.

Your hands drifted up his back, feeling the muscles there ripple beneath your fingertips as he shifted and rolled off of you, collapsing onto the mattress beside you with a contented sigh.

The scent of sex and sweat filled the room, mingling with the heady aroma of arousal that still lingered in the air.

The sound of ragged breathing and the occasional soft moan filled the silence, punctuated by the quiet rustle of fabric as both of them tried to catch their breath.

Cillian turned his head to smile at you, his deep blue eyes glazed with satisfaction and warmth. His hair was a tousled mess from where your fingers had run through it, and there was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks that only served to highlight his attractiveness even more.

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as you snuggled closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

Your limbs were still trembling slightly from the force of your orgasm, but you felt completely at ease in this moment.

Cillian wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "You are on the pill, right?" he then asked out of the blue, causing you to chuckle.

"Yes, I am on the pill," you replied, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "And if I wasn't, I wouldn't have let you cum inside me."

Cillian nodded, seeming relieved at your answer. "Good," he said, before pulling you back down into a kiss.

"You didn't ask me that the last time we had sex," you murmured against his lips, a faint blush staining your cheeks.

"I should have," Cillian replied, his voice soft. "I just assumed, you know," he trailed off, a pained look crossing his face.

You reached up to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb over the faint stubble on his jawline. "I know," you murmured. "It's okay. I would have told you if I wasn't."

Cillian nodded, looking grateful for your reassurance. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your hair.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" you then asked , your voice soft and hesitant.

Cillian's blue eyes met yours, searching your face for any hint of uncertainty or regret. But all he saw was the same heat and desire that he felt mirrored in his own gaze. "Yes," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "I would like that," he told you and, with that, the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking until, eventually, you both drifted off to sleep.

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction

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jisuto · 1 month ago

Note

On the topic of game reception, what are your thoughts on the current state of pokemon?

OK THIS ASK WAS SENT BEFORE THE HUGE LEAK LOL but I have a lot to say:

I watched VHS tapes, played the games, and owned merch since a young age so the series is very special to me. But I don't like the current direction at all and it's not because of the designs or nostalgia. The quality and game performance plummeted so how can I enjoy playing when there's mad lag or low frame rate that hinders my progress and worsen the experience??

It took too many years for them to realize they need to put quality over quantity after the SWSH mess, seeing that they can get away with pretty much ANYTHING and still make huge profit. You see people say that Pokemon should've never went 3D and stay 2D but tbh, it's a series that improves it's graphics as technology advances so it's not a surprise for them to finally go 3D and personally I think that's fine but just keep it looking good and fun (though I would love a 2D/3D hybrid). XY introduced a lot of new features but still lacked in some aspects that still haven't really been solved or added.

Reusing assets is common in the industry but only to a certain extent. They claimed that SWSH was taking a while to make because they were making brand new models which turned out to be a lie and they look like bootleg figures with the new lighting. The 3DS models were ripped from Pokepark, including some animations, but a lot of them still barely have any character. They have their own in-house team (Creatures Inc) so they made the decision NOT to have pokemon properly animated or look alive.... Also they made spin-offs like Ranger, Colosseum, Pokepark, and Pokken which look AMAZING

FRLG took only one year while HGSS was being developed at the same time as Platinum and took 3 years to finish that turned into one of the best games and remakes ever made. As the franchise expands, the team also needs to add more manpower but Game Freak can definitely afford to get more resources to help them?? They can't continue having a ragtag team of like 20 people to make a game back then and do the same now then expect good results... Hire more people who know how create with current gen consoles IT'S COMMON SENSE PLS also I can't believe they had a different company create BDSP knowing how beloved and groundbreaking DPPT was?? No redesigns like the previous remakes and thought it was a good idea to keep it looking a carbon copy to the DS style...

Also it's shocking to see how fan reception can change how the devs direct the next gen ESPECIALLY when it's not even real constructive criticism?? When Unova came out, I remember seeing all the online outcry about "OH THEY HAVE AN ICE CREAM CONE POKEMON AND A TRASH BAG, THEY'RE RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS EW" then actually hear it being repeated at school.... I WAS TRYING TO SURVIVE SINCE DAY 1 IN THE TRENCHES DEFENDING THIS GAME IT WAS ALWAYS GOOD AND DIDN'T NEED 10 YEARS TO AGE WELL. It's crazy how these are the same people who want another Kanto when Trubbish is Grimer (garbage waste) and Vanillite is Voltorb (based on literal items) then you could not catch any other pokemon from different regions in the main game. And the leak confirmed that the disgruntled hate from the west made the devs not release new pokemon in B2W2 and move them over to XY instead AND NOT GIVE A SINGLE GEN 5 MEGA EVOLUTION. So we were robbed because of genwunners who were fixated on the wrong things and ignored all the great content Unova brought us. It's strange how players keep complaining they want a different and fresh game, but want it to continue being super formulaic and binary like wtf do you want make up your mind

None of the switch titles really got me invested and I always end up replaying the older games but hopefully PLZA will break the curse and finally give us a nice game. Also why don't we have more spin-offs on the switch if there's so many of them floating around like the DS had a bunch??? STOP BEING COWARDS I WANT A POKEMON NINTENDOGS GAME OR THAT FIRE EMBLEM CROSSOVER WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET. I JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN AGAIN ;w;

#asks #this was long sry

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hydr0phius-art · 10 months ago

Text

Painting Chiss Skin

Before I start this, I’m just going to say that I attempted to do an in depth version of this part and then stopped and did dot points because it was too overwhelming.

A lot of what’s in here can be applied to different body parts. Some of it may also be applied to traditional art, but most of this is for digital art. This post focuses on faces. Eyes and scars will be another post that'll hopefully follow this one relatively quickly.

Picking colours (and some other tips)

> Experimenting is good!

> There’s blood beneath skin and it’s going to show through at different intensities based on what your lighting is doing. I’m assuming Chiss blood is red, so I usually make any blush on my Chiss purple. (Red + blue = purple. Basic colour mixing thingz, you know?)

> The fairer the Chiss’ skin is, the more vibrant you can be with that purple blush in my opinion.

> Temperature, colour, and intensity of light determines what the skin looks like.

> Having black shadows on a coloured artwork is a good way to flatten the whole piece; when I paint shadows on a Chiss face, I go for a dark blue or purple and blend it with what’s already on the canvas. Playing with layers and their opacity function is also good.

> Laying down a base blue before starting with the rest of the colours is good. You can see that I did that in the speedpaint I’ve attached to the end of this post.

> This website about colour zones will help.

> This website about colour blocking will also help.

References

> I find a face reference of an actor I want to Chiss-ify. Then I have my blue skin reference, which is usually one of the Na’vi from Avatar.

> I use the Na’vi because there’s a lot of images available with variation with temperature of light and quality of light to observe.

> Make note of the colours that appear in their flesh as light interacts with it.

> Warm light will have pink that transitions to purple, then to blue as shadow starts to come back in. I’ve put Ar’alani next to the reference I took inspiration from (link here) for comparison.

> You want to go and paint your reference as it is, except blue. When you get to adding highlights and shadows, look at the Na’vi image and see what colours appear in that light.

I think that’s pretty much all I do when I paint Chiss. Here’s a speedpaint of Thrawn with Lee Pace as a face claim if that helps somewhat :3

(Ignore how I erased his uniform; I could NOT be bothered with that sorry).

Also, Here are some artworks that helped me when I was figuring this out. I’ve done a bit of analysis that might or might not be helpful. Take what you like from it.

Magali Villeneuve

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In my opinion, Villeneuve’s Thrawn portraits are the best official artworks of him that we have right now. They’re my main go-to for inspiration. The lighting plays across the skin in a way that gives it a fleshy, warm, alive feel. Even the colour zones are present, which gives it that extra bit of depth. If you can’t see them, that’s fine; it takes a bit of time to get used to looking for them.

Rod Reis

The first of Reis’ Alliances cover is also up there with good official Thrawn art we’ve had fairly recently, imo. His style is different to Villeneuve’s, but he follows the same processes with the colour zones and how the skin interacts with the environment around it. The shadows aren’t flat or black; they have colour to them that adds more dimension to the portrait. There’s also that hint of purple-blue blush around his cheeks with more yellowy-blue tones on his forehead and more blue tones around his jaw and chin (again, colour zones are present :3). The light is cooler than Villeneuve’s in the Chaos Rising Portrait, which you can see in the lighter teal hue on the right side of his face. Cool light usually brings out the lighter blue tones in the skin (that’s just what I’ve noticed, though).

And that's it! If anyone has questions, feel free to ask them :3 I'll try and get this eye post out soon <3

#thrawn #ar'alani #grand admiral thrawn #admiral ar'alani #chiss art #thrawn art #art with hydro #hydro rambles #painting aliens is hard but you don't have to suffer in silence #magali villeneuve #rod reis #art study #chiss #chiss ascendancy #star wars #star wars art #Instagram

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ascendanttarot · 1 year ago

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PAC: Channelling Your Present Energy

Hi, guys! This will be a PAC on your energy as of right now. I'll be channelling using tarot and automatic writing. I tried to make this reading as clear as I could, but all the messages I got were more sensory feelings than outright words/phrases. I hope you find this reading useful to you regardless. :)

I will not be listing any signs before the reading as I do with my other longer PACs. I suggest really going with your gut here, and if the message immediately doesn’t feel right, I recommend picking a different pile.

Please remember your fate is not set in stone so your answers may change depending on the actions you take and will take if you please. Tarot is not a substitute for professional advice. The images I’ve used are not mine.

From left to right, Pile 1, 2 & 3.

Pile 1

Your Cards: The Magician rx, The Ace of Cups

Your Reading: Before we start Pile 1, I want to say that I actually had difficulty tapping into your energy. When I closed my eyes to channel instead, I smelled rain, but I couldn’t feel the rain on my skin as if to say you’ve cried all the tears you had left. I saw a fog, but I couldn’t see anything beyond that. When I tried pulling your cards again, the exact same cards (even the reversal stayed the same) from last time came out while I was shuffling, so that shows a level of certainty despite the confusion.

Your present energy feels like quiet hope, like a calm after the storm, not before it. Your present energy feels misty. Going back to the storm analogy, it feels like there was a storm in the middle of summer, and the rain poured down while you were outside, and you kept anticipating a lightning bolt to strike you down because you felt your hair stand up without your volition but it never came.

I think you’re starting to regain a bit of optimism in your life, but you aren’t letting it show because you’re scared you’ll jinx yourself. I think you’ve been manifesting something specific in your life too, but you haven’t told anyone because of self-doubt and fear of people undermining your ambition. It’s an ‘I’m not happy now but I could be’ energy. I could see golden threads around your aura connecting you to your manifestation, and your soul tugs on it from time to time. You may not see that happening but whenever you get a surge of motivation to work on your goals, this is your higher self pulling this golden string towards you just a little bit closer.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 1!

Pile 2

Your Cards: The Tower, Justice rx (clarified by The Star)

Your Reading: The first thing I saw when I channelled your energy was this Katniss Everdeen-type character. I know this message is odd, but I genuinely saw this blank character in the woods fighting for their life, and they’re whistling to try to get someone’s attention but the only reply was an echo of your previous whistle. You’re alone. I can physically feel leather armour digging into my skin like I haven’t taken it off for days.

Okay onto the reading. We can’t ignore the fact that you got all major arcana cards. Even the extra card that jumped out to clarify Justice was The Star. That speaks huge volumes about what your energy is like right now.

Pile 2, do you have a fear of being judged? Does this fear come from past experiences when you felt people didn’t listen to you correctly? Because your energy also feels like listening to the news using an old radio, but you just can’t seem to fix the signal. You tried walking around the house and moving the antenna only to make the audio quality sound worse.

Your energy screams potential. Why do you think people tried to put you down? There’s a strong message here that you don’t have to dim your light because you’re scared of blinding the neighbourhood. Of course you’ll overgrow your ‘house’—your ‘home’ was always meant to be something bigger. Don’t let anyone stop you from building that.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 2!

Pile 3

Your Cards: 7 of Pentacles, The Emperor

Your Reading: Okay, stay with me here, but your energy feels like a crocheted gift. Interwoven between the yarn is this bright yet earthy energy of hard work and time. In fact, it feels like time acts differently around your energy.

Some people view time in two categories: time spent and time lost. You, on the other hand, don’t go against time but are working with it like you’re one and the same. This energy feels like hyper-focusing on a task until you go through everything with a fine-tooth comb to perfection, and there’s a calendar in front of you but it switches between languages every second until the years look like glitched-out glyphs.

It’s like you’ve got this celestial energy no one can seem to pin down. It's weird because people think you’re lucky, but they underestimate you at the same time. And guess what? They’re wrong on both accounts.

I mean, c'mon, you literally got The Emperor! I think the people who see you working hard don’t see a point in what you’re doing. Like, if we’re going back to the crochet analogy, they may think you’re wasting your time crocheting a scarf when you could just buy it. What they don’t realise is that this skill will lead to a successful business in the future, or maybe you’ll discover a new technique after a few months that will give you the recognition you deserve. The people who think you’re lucky will think you rose to the top out of nowhere and that you haven't actually earned your status.

There’s a message to not listen to them. They only know as much as they have lived. They don’t know how much work you’ve put in to be able to get to where you are and where you will be.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 3!

#pick a card #pac #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #divination #spirituality #witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #next chapter of your life

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lapis-lights · 2 years ago

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Chapter 03 | Kiss the Skin From My Lips

'Falling From Grace' Series

[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Song Title: Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy

Content Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY), Unprotected p in v, Porn with feelings, Creampie, Some dirty taking but nothing too intense, The lovers in enemies to lovers

Word Count: 14.1k

Author's Notes: Chapter three of the Falling From Grace series! Sooooo....this is really my first time attempting a smut scene so criticism would be really appreciated if you have any! Otherwise, I hope you guys like this chapter :)

Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!

Series Masterlist

Ao3

Summary: As tensions ride high between you and Leon, you execute your first infiltration mission of the J.I.E. lab. What you find inside is more than just a few simple monsters, but rather a life or death situation and an experience that leaves you and Leon absolutely breathless.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

And you can kiss the skin from my lips if it makes you feel good... I'm not sure if you want it; I'm not sure if you need me too.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

When you wake up, there's a deep ache in your bones and you think sourly of how you're getting on in your years.

At this point, don't people start planning their retirement homes or something? You've led anything but a normal life so really, you wouldn't know, but from what you've heard, it's gotta be something along those lines. When did your twenties end and your thirties begin?

Jesus Christ, you've let yourself go.

You start your morning routine, ignoring Leon who's still happily snoring away, and taking a trip down to the first floor to the gym room. There's some flimsy equipment down there and it's definitely not the high quality stuff you get at actual gyms or at the J.I.E.'s professional training programs, but you'll have to make do for now.

You start with simple stretches to warm up as you ponder everything that has happened last night.

You think about the way Ada had looked and by proxy, Leon. He's never mentioned her to you ever so you suspect there must be a reason for that. Maybe he wanted to protect her from you in case you decided to go on a rampage or something, but that didn’t make sense either. Was Leon into the type of woman that could fend for herself or did he just care if she was a looker or not?

If that’s the case, you were definitely crossed off the list. The scar tissue bears a heavy burden.

You lose yourself in the familiar burn of exercise and it feels oddly good to hurt in the ways that tell you your efforts weren’t going to waste. Eventually, this moment of peace will come to an end just like all good things, but right now, you stay in the intensity of your workout. You don’t even notice the door opening.

It’s a guy you haven’t seen before, clean shaven and muscular. You can tell he keeps himself fit but whether it’s for work or just for show, you don’t know. He doesn’t look bad at all with dark doe eyes and light brown hair that sweeps across his forehead enticingly.

“I didn’t know pretty girls vacationed here,” he says and you rip your eyes away from the floor to meet his. What little respect you had deluded yourself into making for him bleeds away and in a split decision, you decide to play with him just a little.

“And I didn’t know good-looking men frequented these parts,” you fire back, batting eyelashes and giving him the most innocent look you can muster. “No need to flatter. I’m sure you could pull someone better than lil’ old me.”

“Don’t put yourself down so fast, babe,” he snorts, heading for the weights and you mentally roll your eyes as you see his intent to try and impress you with reps.

However, you keep up the disguise and take a seat on a nearby medicine ball while watching him carefully. “I’m not putting myself down–it’s the truth.”

He doesn’t answer but he does make sure to put extra emphasis on choosing a fairly heavy hand weight and beginning to rep without any warm up. Silently, you know he’ll pull a muscle eventually and all for a woman he’ll likely never see in his life again. Womanizers like him never made much sense to you, but you suppose human instincts can make people irrational at the best of times.

“So you got a boyfriend?” he asks and you hum.

Would you? Should you?

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” you decide on answering, which wasn’t much far from the truth itself in all honesty. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know if there’s anybody keeping me from taking you out.”

“You’re at a hotel,” you scoff. “Do you have anybody waiting for you back in your room?”

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” he grins.

So he did come here with someone. How disgusting. You’re not the most morally correct person in the world, but even you understand the basic agreement of being in a relationship, and furthermore, you kow the importance put on the concept of loyalty. Well…you know how it’s supposed to be.

“Right,” you sigh, “and what are you proposing we do?”

His eyes flash suggestively and if you had the energy, you’d projectile vomit. “I’d take you out for a real nice dinner then bring you back to mine so we could-”

He shuts up when the door flies open and Leon strides in so confidently you forget that he’s supposed to be back at the suite stuck in dreamland. However, the stormy glance he gives you is nothing compared to the downright murderous glare he directs at the guy you hadn’t bothered to get the name of.

"Woah, man," the guy says, blissfully unaware. "You must be riled up for a serious workout."

"No," Leon answers, voice clipped and tight in a way you've never heard him before. "I was just looking for my wife who happened to get a headstart in her day without me."

The guy's face pales when he motions to you and you shrug non committedly before getting up and opening the door that leads out. Leon is hot on your heels as you make your way out and it's not long before he's gripping your wrist and pulling you back to stop your stride.

"Mind telling me what the fuck that was?" He demands, keeping his voice just quiet enough to not disturb the other residents.

"I was having fun," you hum, "since you're providing no entertainment for me."

"You can't just go wandering off where I can't see you."

"I'm not a child."

“Of course you’re not, but you’re practically a walking target for any undercover agent,” he sighs as you wrench your hand from his grasp and scowl. “You scared me is all.”

The sentiment might’ve been sweeter if your brain didn’t remind you of his latenight amorous meeting with Ada and it sours your whole mood even further. Long gone is that steadily growin soft spot and it only gets replaced by stone cold bitterness. Had the world always been this dark?

You spin on your heel and ignore the confused sound Leon makes as he follows closely like he’s afraid he’ll lose you again.

“You’re losing your edge, Kennedy,” you sniff dismissively.

“What?”

“Isn't this all some complex business partnership to you?” The walk to the room seems to drag on longer than you like and the nagging feeling of his eyes on you makes you want to scream, cry, and break all at once.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” he asks as if this whole thing would be any different than past encounters.

You ignore him, approaching the suite and unlocking the door with your keycard and pushing through roughly, not waiting for any protest from Leon. Your brain flies with so many unanswered questions and they’re so loud that you want to fall to your knees and beg them to stop.

Unable to take it anymore, you whirl around and he almost runs into you from the abrupt halt.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?!” You demand, bordering on a plea but he doesn’t need to know how deep the desperation went.

His dark eyebrows knit in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like–” you struggle to form a coherent line of thought, “–with those eyes.”

You know you don’t make much sense but you can see it register in his expression, dusty blue darkening into electric and the atmosphere rapidly shifts from one emotion to another. He’s so close now, less than an arm's reach away, and he looks at you from beneath his lashes in a way that’s enough to drive you to insanity.

Why was he doing this? How was he doing this? How was Leon of all people drawing you in deep enough to get under your skin? How could he command the tension between you like it was a simple race down a one-way street and simultaneously provide no context behind his motives?

Why did Ada come by last night and how did she know who he was? How did she know you?

These questions sprout one after another like those depressing time loop videos of flowering plants. He answers none of them and it’s only all the more infuriating.

“Leon,” you swallow harshly and stand your ground. “What do you want from me?”

The question is left hanging in the air, an unoccupied noose. It’s intimidating, dread on your shoulders like a heavy burden as you wait for an answer that never comes. Leon just looks at you like he was waiting for you to come to some revelation and answer the question for yourself but no such reason comes forth.

Ridiculous.

He does nothing, and his nonchalant exterior only makes you more infuriated and frustrated with the sensation of talking to the equivalent of a brick wall. Instead, Leon’s eyes flick around your face as if he was soaking every detail, absorbing as much as he could. You watch him warily like a hawk, wondering just how much longer the two of you could dance around this issue of unspoken feeling and silent motive.

Then, his eyes travel down to your mouth in a way you would’ve missed if you blinked. Your lips part as his tongue darts out to wet his own, the muscle gliding along his skin and leaving a light sheen of saliva behind.

The movement is miniscule but addicting all the same, and you’re almost knocked breathless with the urge to pull him close just to get his hands on your body. You want to kiss him so badly until his lips swell with the imprint of yours and his passion matches to suit your own. You want the taste of that spearmint gum he always carries around and the aura of alcohol that always stays with him no matter where he goes.

Craving flares in your stomach as tears well in your eyes, confused and angry as to why this was happening now.

Did Leon know how much he was torturing you? Was he just pupeteering you around just to leave you cold and alone like your family, friends, and past lovers did? You wouldn’t be able to handle that–you can feel it. That would be your breaking point, your hamartia.

Your death.

It takes all of your strength to pull away from him and his hypnotic spell though you’re not sure if he even had an inkling of the self-torment you’re undergoing with this new revelation.

He doesn’t stop you as you escape onto the balcony, slamming the sliding door closed, and gulping in the oxygen like you held your head underwater too long.

An ugly sob rips from your throat and self-loathing burns bright and hot in your gut. The heat is almost too much to handle as you hate yourself for allowing yourself to cry like this over something so miniscule and especially because of something Leon had done. He doesn’t even have the audacity to be sorry.

Still, emotions are nothing new even if your understanding of love is so warped beyond repair. You’re stronger than this. You’re better. You have to be.

Your knees give out and you have no choice but to fall onto one of the patio chairs and let the numbness spread through your body. The tears begin drying tracks on your cheeks as new ones follow the path of the old, but you don’t have the heart or energy to wipe them away.

What were your feelings about Leon truly? It’s obvious you don’t hate him as much as you had before and the thought of him dying now scares you more than ever. There’s still some old hate there, just behind your ribcage just waiting to explode outward again, but dulled by an entirely new portion of your brain.

The portion of your brain that wants to kiss him. The one that wants Leon to take you out on dates and make jokes as your husband and admire him under the golden lighting of the sun. The one that charges into your old self with a fierce snarl and starts a battle for your wishes and dreams.

Your head hits the back of the chair and you screw your eyes shut, trying to make sense of the whole entire thing.

Nothing but the image of that desolate and dead landscape from your dream comes to mind. You can still hear the rolling thunder and cracking lightning as if it had happened right in front of your eyes. You can still feel the sticky blood on your hands and the metallic scent permeating the air as lifeless eyes had stared up at you.

Devoid of passion. Devoid of anything.

Is that what you wanted–what you wished for? Is that your happy ending?

Somehow–for some inexplicable and unknown reason–you don't think so.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Guns weigh heavy in your palms, but in a cruel twist of fate, it also means home.

The power to kill someone lying in a variety of sizes are the only way to survive in your profession. That much is obvious. You've been through the same song and dance a million times over and then some–so this? This is nothing new.

Tensions have been high in the suite as you do your level best to avoid Leon while confined to such a small space with him. Over the past couple of days, your interactions have lasted with only a few clipped words and making plans to infiltrate the lab you'd found in the clothing department dressing room. Today was the day you'd decided to put your plans into action despite how poorly they've been communicated.

You know for tag team missions like this, communication is vital. However, you can't bring yourself to care. Being dealt potential death seems much better than having to face Leon and grapple with the warring thoughts tugging between wanting to end him and wanting more with him. He doesn't make it any easier.

He's not bitter. The exterior he puts up paints him as a grumpy middle-aged man whose experiences have only made him all the more angry at the world. You know him better than that, though. That's just how he is naturally, and if he was anything but that, you would know best how to spot the signs. However, this new attitude of his is something you’ve never encountered before so it’s hard to pinpoint just exactly what state of mind he was in.

Over the course of just a couple days, you find yourself struggling to hold on to that composure you worked so hard to craft. Leon leaves you alone and allows you to have your space, but even then, it takes all of your willpower just to not stare openly.

You indulge yourself late at night when his breathing deepens and your thoughts are just between you and whatever potential god there was. There were nights where your thoughts run rampant and take whatever chance you allow to admire him. You wish that there was something more between you emotionally and nothing physically. You want that sensation of his body on yours and what that might entail, and you want him deeper than you ever have before.

Shamefully, you wonder if he would burn just as deliciously as you imagined or if it would be more just because it's Leon. Would that controlled blaze turn into a wild forest fire under his advances? Would he steal your breath away roughly or would he take his unrelenting time to savor you all? Would he aim to watch tears roll down your cheeks or would he kiss them all away with whispers of sweet nothings?

Your enemy, putting you at the mercy of his hands and body, was a thought you kept sealed away tightly. Nobody could ever know about it.

When the morning came, you had checked your back and was delighted upon knowing that the wound had healed thanks to the full effect of Leon's questionable herbs. You'd put on your tactical gear over it, stretching to get the blood flowing and downing a coffee for good measure.

While he's in the bathroom, you check over your weapons once more and make sure all of your guns are loaded and stocked. Running out of ammo has been the reason for near-death multiple times so it’s especially crucial that you don’t make that mistake today.

Alone with your thoughts, you finally grapple with what you’re trying to do today.

For so many years, the J.I.E. had silenced you and molded your mind and body into a perfect little war soldier under the pretenses that you were making the world a better place. You’d been a fool, blind to the millions of deaths that were paying for the price of a few lives until that veil was snatched away and revealed the horrors of humanity to you.

Your eyes shut as you remember the chains, rubbing your wrists raw as you were forced into discipline. The memory of cold metal kissing your skin before breaking through it, promising worse if you hadn’t obeyed was fresh as a morning bloom in your head. Your own screams had sounded like they were from someone else, leaving your throat torn and your vocal cords frayed.

Leon would never know the extent of the pain you had gone through, even if he’s the only one that knew the basics. You were afraid of what he would think of that–of you.

He emerges finally ready and you stare wordlessly at him. A silent understanding passes between you and the two of you jump into action.

The car ride there is a blur. Despite having walked before on your small outing when you first got here, you'd figured it would be much easier to have a getaway vehicle ready and parked a couple blocks away just in case. The store opened early, and just in time for you to sneak in inconspicuously.

Avoiding employees was easy, especially after you had swiped a keycard from the manager’s stand upon finding it carelessly abandoned.

The dressing rooms were easy enough to get into and you led Leon into the one that you had changed in while you tried on that pretty little dress he recommended. It’s only been a few days but that night feels like it was so long ago, especially with how many cycles of emotions you’ve been subjected to since then.

Upon removing the middle panel, holding the keycard up to the gray block causes a loud click to sound out that notifies the door has been unlocked. Uneasily, you breathe in deeply and push in.

The interior is something you’re familiar with since it took on a similar appearance to that of the lab you’d been assigned to. However, the layout is foreign so it’s a toss in the air as to where anything could possibly be. The walls are lined with thick cords that are warm to the touch and the vibration of the lab's electricity current hums under your feet. You take out your handgun, keeping your finger off the trigger but staying alert all the same.

Leon fires off a shot and you whirl around just in time to see a camera falling to the ground brokenly.

The initial entrance is a straight shot but eventually you reach a hub of sorts where there are multiple tunnels branching off into different directions. Above them are signs that list the area of interest that each one led down to, ranging from dormitories to experimentations. The offices were the most dangerous to try and breach since multiple people working meant a bigger crowd to try and disperse if you got caught, though you're convinced that this place must be overrun like an ant colony.

"Where do we go from here?" Leon asks and your stomach flips.

You haven't heard him speak since your fallout a few days ago so it's an emotional whiplash being reminded of what exactly the most miniscule things about him do to you. Things that shouldn't elicit such reactions, making your skin spark with invisible electricity and putting your brain on high alert when he so much as breathes heavier.

"Anywhere we go is gonna be crawling with workers," you answer, keeping your composure. "They're usually confined to their assigned station for the whole day before being let off to go home. We should try and go to one that has the least amount of people or the biggest advantage for us."

"Where do you propose that might be?"

You look up at the labels above the tunnels before settling on one. "The observation deck. They use it to record the progress of their bioweapons and monitor any potential dangers they might pose so they're on a tight schedule. We might be able to find something about what they're doing there."

He nods and together, you make your way through the tunnel, shooting down any more security cameras you see and testing for any potential defense mechanisms they might have installed. It's eerily quiet besides the atmospheric noises and suspicion rises in your mind as you wonder why you haven't seen anybody thus far in your journey. You'd expected a flood of scientists or at least one assassination attempt as soon as you stepped inside, but maybe this wasn't as uptight as the lab you were at.

The observation deck was a series of catwalks crossing over a large arena, presumably where they let their bioweapons roam free while they stayed a safe height away from it. From where you entered, it happens to be in the 4th level, though the platforms stretch to multiple stories above your head. It looked almost similar to the pictures of the lab beneath the white house that Wilson had hidden away with the whole incident with Jason, though this one lacked any chemical experiments in the middle.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, pointing up to a space encased in glass. “They might have reports we can get into over there.”

Just as you go to begin walking, the static cracking of a speaker jumping to life immediately halts your steps. Leon whips around, pushing his back to yours as you defensively cover each other with your guns at the ready. There’s no telling where the speaker might be or where it was located, but the fact that it was active at all is a problem.

Then, the crackling dissipates and the voie comes through, muffled by the poor quality of a microphone.

“So you’ve finally made it,” the voice purrs through the intercom. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Neither you nor Leon answer, swiveling around and searching for any oddities while keeping your wits as the speaker crackles again and clears.

“Unfortunately, we don’t appreciate outsiders much, Agent (L/n). You should know that more than anybody.”

You grit your teeth, trying not to let their words get underneath your skin.

“Ah, well. You were a valuable asset to us. It’s so unfortunate we’ll have to do some clean-up, so to speak.”

Beneath you, something crashes against the wall with a violent boom and the dark growl of something massive reverberates through the whole entire room. A sick sort of dread grows as you look down before glancing back at Leon who’s sharing the same thought process as you are. It’s not that hard to deduce what would happen next, and silently, you pray to whatever’s out there that you would make it out of this thing alive.

“You really need to work on your speeches, pal,” Leon snaps and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t stuck in such a precarious and unpredictable situation.

“And you need to work on your manners, Mr. Kennedy,” the voice cackles, all ugly and sounding like they were hacking up a lung. “You’ll be regretting those words when you’re dead. Entertain the animal for me, will you?”

The speaker clicks off just as a metal door below flies off its hinges and nearly blows through the wall of the arena below. You break from the formation you and Leon had set up to look down at what you’re up against and your eyes widen with horror. It’s got multiple appendages whipping out from every limb, taking on the sick appearance of some mutated spider. Multiple eyes glow yellow as it glances around before zeroing in on you above it.

“Leon,” you mumble, backing up and he only gets a sparse good look at what you're up against before he’s grabbing your wrist and sprinting down the catwalk.

The beast screeches upon seeing its target on the move and one of those long arms shoots upward to latch onto the railing of the walkway. You just barely make it onto safe ground before it’s yanked away and the whole path crashes to the ground. Panic curls in your chest as you remember what had happened the last time you had faced off a bioweapon, and you start running after Leon once you gain your bearings.

All along the sides are countless offices that hold large filing cabinets, though they hardly matter in this chase scene. The monster hisses, spitting something before launching upward and beginning to climb the walls rapidly towards you. You’re able to deter it with a couple well-aimed shots to its head but, it only makes it angrier as well.

Once it’s up, your stomach jumps into your throat upon seeing that the thing is almost twice as tall as you are. It lumbers toward you with a hiss as it secretes acid that burns into the ground. Leon stops in front of you, pulling out a rifle and pressing the scope to his eye. You’re confused as to what his approach is until he shoots and the monster reels back in pain with a scream. When you look, you see that he’s hit one of the multiple grotesque eyeballs that embed along the legs of the mutated spider. It’s not hard to see where Leon was going with this so you take out your own rifle to join him.

Gunshots ring in your ears as you and Leon rain down hellfire, backing away every so often to put distance between you and the bioweapon.

Leon runs up a flight of stairs before shoving himself into a crevice that's only large enough to fit one. You stumble up after him and turn onto another catwalk, looking back and almost vomiting. The ugly monster's wounds are leaking pus that chews holes into the ground it walks on, eyes flicking wildly before finding you–entirely missing Leon–and heading frantically in your direction.

Of fucking course they made all of its bodily fluids acidic. What else would you expect?

You switch out your rifle for a magnum and shoot around Leon as he brings up the rear. He works on picking off the rest of the leg eyeballs while you set to getting the fucker right in between it's menacing yellow eyes. The recoil is almost unfamiliar, but you swiftly get back into the rhythm of handling the weapon, walking back before reaching to your tactical utility belt and yanking off an incendiary grenade.

You pull the pin, throw it, and shield your eyes from the burst of flames that erupt and start licking along the spider's body. It shrieks so ungodly loud that you would've almost clapped your hands around your ears if you didn't remember where you were and what your goal was. You reload your magnum as quickly and accurately as you can manage, and keep shooting. Leon sprints out, using the weakened legs as leverage to swing himself onto its back and start stabbing it with the combat knife he'd been hiding.

He's a genius and lunatic all at once.

You suppose this must be nothing new to him since Leon's faced who knows how many bioweapons at this point, but this is your first time seeing it up close and personal. He fights like it's second nature–like he's simply just breathing. It's mesmerizing to watch, but the moment is over when he gets thrown off into your direction and lands heavily in front of you directly onto his arm with a pained grunt.

You wince, hoping that it hasn't been broken or dislocated, reaching out and hauling him to his feet when he accepts your hand. Together, you keep shooting as Leon pulls the pin on a hand grenade and throws it at the spider's feet. You halt, palms covering your ears as it flashes multiple times then explodes, taking the mutated monster down with it.

Organs go flying everywhere and you duck to avoid the majority splatter of the acidic blood. The explosion causes a creak and only the middle portion of the catwalk sinks before crumbling down into the wreckage already created by the first ruined walkway.

Leon stands up, panting heavily as he looks down into the mess below that has sparked a fire and was burning merrily as if you hadn't just killed a man-made monster. Speaking of which, whose body had joined the metal below and had speared onto the sharp pieces that jutted out like a homemade spike pitfall trap.

He turns to you, going to open his mouth to say something but is rapidly silenced by a creaking groan and then he shouts in panic when the ground beneath his feet gives way. You gasp, lunging forward and grabbing his hand on instinct as the portion of the walkway falls into the void below and he's left dangling precariously from a fatal height with only you to hold onto.

He glances down then back up at you, desperation in his eyes as you both come to the same realization and conclusion.

You could kill him right now.

All you had to do was let go and it would all be over as if this never happened. He would be out of your hair and all that torment he subjected you to would dissipate like cotton candy subjected to water. This would all end if you would just take the chance to drop him into that dangerous trap where you would never have to see him again, never have to worry about him again. You could drop him and turn away without a second glance to see if he survived or not.

Leon’s eyes flash and you know exactly what it is despite never seeing it before. It’s pure unadulterated fear, with his life hanging in the balance of someone who had expressed distaste for him a healthy amount of times and whose certainly not favorable towards him in any way at the moment. Even if he saved your life, were you so willing to give up this once-in-a-lifetime chance?

You have the high ground now.

You determine his fate.

You could end it all right now by just yanking your hand away and taking back everything you had done to improve your relationship with him.

Your heart thuds marathons in your ears as all your muscles twitch and have a war in your mind. The thoughts curl and shriek around each other, fighting for what they believed the right thing to do was and it felt like the whole world was watching you for some sort of revolutionary choice.

You wince, knowing what your decision is.

Hauling Leon up, your legs burn as you lift his weight from the ledge and onto safe ground, rolling away when he finally lands on the stable ground that the catwalk had been attached to. Your lungs beg for air and you pant, faintly registering what just happened as you ride out that high of adrenaline. Leon must be out of it if he hasn't made a sarcastic quip about almost dying.

"We need to get to safety," you say, shakily getting to your feet and almost stumbling back down from the shock factor.

He only nods and you reach out to help him up. Even though you didn’t drop him to his untimely death, he looks at you warily before accepting the offer, almost falling to his knees again before you shoot forward and catch him. His body heat radiates through your skin and your cheeks set ablaze at the proximity even as you sling one of his arms around your shoulders and support some of his weight as you begin walking.

“There’s a safe room I saw on the way while we were running,” you mumble, avoiding making any sort of eye contact. “We can go over there and make sure you’re not hurt.”

“What about you?” He rasps and it leaves you wondering why he’s so adamant about the state of your health when he’s just looked death between the eyes.

You laugh breathlessly, almost sarcastically if you weren’t still riding the high of that fading adrenaline. “Don’t worry about me.”

You and Leon make your way to one of the cubicles, and you set him down carefully on the office chair that he manages to unceremoniously slump into. It’s clear that his almost-death is impacting him, though you now well that this isn’t the first time he’s had a touch of the afterlife. It really did make you wonder what about this time made it any different.

While he squeezes his eyes shut and massages the shoulder he’d landed on, you reach into your bag and pull out a first aid spray for him to use when he’s ready before standing and taking in your environment. The computer is innocently waiting on the stand with the J.I.E. logo set as the wallpaper, and there’s a filing cabinet that you try to open. It doesn’t give way and you mumble out a curse under your breath as you start poking around the desk drawers for a possible key.

Leo pops the top off the spray bottle and starts healing his wounds while you flip through various pages inside. Most of them are unhelpful and just detailing things you already knew until you tumble on a report for the spider you had just killed.

You put it into a manila folder that you put in your bag, rummaging around more until you find a hidden compartment that holds the key to the file cabinet. Upon opening the locked drawer, you find reports on agents–including your own–and details on the imports and exports the company had been engaging in.

Then, you hit the jackpot.

First and foremost was a folder of maps that laid out every level and room there was in the entirety of the lab. Then, there was a large binder that recorded every experiment the J.I.E. had engaged with the creation of their bioweapons, even detailing a new virus that they were meddling with. You flip through, finding monster after monster that has failed and succeeded. For now, this would be enough until you could figure out a plan using the map and going over the particulars of the experiments.

“We should go now,” you decide. “This is more than enough to figure out where we’re going and what we’re up against.”

Silence.

The lack of response causes you to turn around and peer questioningly at Leon who just nods mindlessly and gets up. He doesn’t meet your eyes and this attitude only makes you all the more confused. What had gotten into him?

Nonetheless, he follows as you make your way to an elevator that you go up in to return to the main hub that you had entered through. You suppose that nobody had watched you through the cameras and just automatically assumed you were being taken care of by the spider bioweapon since it's still suspiciously dead silent.

You still stay alert, and if you hadn't been so on edge, Leon would've walked right into the wire trap that had been meticulously strung across the tunnel. You pull him back sharply without thinking, fingers lacing with his as you yank.

He grunts as you pull away, going to carefully disarm it, figuring this was their way of alarming anybody you made it out alive. The explosion surely would have let someone know that there were two unauthorized people still running around, so it was good you had seen the thin wire and the two dark devices flashing red lights. Then again, you'd expected Leon to be just as attentive as you were to your surroundings.

Something was bothering him. Seeing him like this wasn't helping you much either, dying to know just what had him so distracted.

The two of you finally make it to the exit carefully pushing outward into the dressing room whose door had been locked when the two of you entered to prevent anybody seeing things they shouldn't be. A quick pack of wet wipes is enough to make yourselves look decent enough to not look like you’d been playing around in dirt and gunpowder, and you make plans to shower once you got back to the hotel.

All throughout your way back, Leon still stays infuriatingly silent from the lab to the suite, and the question as to why teases the tip of your tongue.

You get inside, let him know you're going to run yourself a bath, and retreat to the restroom as you sigh out with a whimper almost escaping in the process. In the solitude of your own thoughts, you finally let yourself feel that pain and anguish and confusion that you always hold back in the presence of Leon.

Fighting didn’t help at all. If anything, it only made it all the worse feeling guilt or something akin to it.

Would he ever tell you about Ada or was that just something you would have to figure out for yourself? Could you ever be closer to him knowing that he had said you meant nothing to him? It must be true if he had said it without expecting you to hear, and somehow, that sentiment causes a stabbing pang in your chest. It’s a wonderful and horrible thing–wanting someone so badly but knowing they would never want you back.

It’s a bittersweet taste on your tongue with a pungent aftertaste stinging your tastebuds, dooming yourself in the process.

Emotions were always so easy to stomp down and kill before. What about this whole ordeal could possibly make this any different?

Some dark part of your mind whispers that you know. You know what this provocative emotion is that makes your head spin and act irrationally, but you’d die before ever admitting it out loud. This may as well be worse than a death penalty–or rather, it is your death penalty.

The sound of rushing water acts as a soothing white noise until the tub is full and submerging yourself in the warm water causes a sigh of relief to fly past your lips in a gentle exhale. You take your time, washing your hair and massaging fingers into your scalp to help focus on releasing all of that tension that has built up over the past few days. The water turns gray from all that built up grime and dust and the soapy suds merely adds to the discoloration once you actually start scrubbing.

Once you’re done, you feel more human, more in control. The thoughts have quieted, and you finally start to feel like you can get a grasp on yourself again. You think you’re ready to see Leon and just simply resign to the watching the city on the balcony or going to sleep early like the past few days have allowed you. You can live with this. You can do it.

Once this is all said and done, you can part ways. You can forget him.

You could…

You have to. Right?

You step out, steam chasing after you as if beckoning you back into its warm embrace and you find Leon staring out the window mindlessly. You get hit with deja vu as it reminds you of the first morning you’d gotten here and watched the sunrise together. That was when you were nothing more than unlikely but eager allies. Now? You don’t know what you are.

You don’t want to be the one that wants him while he just wants the entertainment. You’re smarter than that.

“Hey,” you call out and he turns slightly, acknowledging you. The atmosphere turns slightly awkward when he provides no verbal answer. “I’m just going to go sit outside for a bit since I guess you want to be alone right now. If you need me, I’ll be-”

"Stop."

His command makes the words fade from your tongue and you swallow harshly. The first words he’s spoken to you since asking how you were at the lab are spoken roughly, making your heart drop into your stomach. When had you started listening to him when he ordered you around? You weren't one of his rookies or agents on his team, but right now, you were completely and totally at the mercy of whatever he might do.

"Why did you save me?" He asks tightly, turning around and finally getting a good look at you in an oversized t-shirt with pajama shorts barely peeking out from underneath the hem. His eyes wander and he swallows harshly. "You could have killed me–ended this feud and finally been the hero of this whole story. Why did you do it?"

You don't have to think about the answer, but it's shameful. After giving him the cold shoulder upon hearing him with Ada and sealing your emotions in a tight little glass bottle, they come spilling out now for Leon to pick through and judge.

"I don't want you to die," you whisper, taking a step back, afraid of whatever he might say.

He moves toward you at an excruciatingly slow pace, expression unreadable and more intimidating than the literal bioweapon you had survived just hours ago. You match his footfalls backward and you think this fear must be what prey feels like when death has locked eyes on it.

"I can't–We can talk about this, yeah?” You try explaining, wondering if there was any possibility you could talk your way out of this. “It doesn't matter–not really. We just…"

You're rambling now, trying to find an excuse to stop those blue eyes from piercing your soul and peeling away every layer of defense you've built up. He keeps getting closer and you're running out of room to escape to. You've never been more scared of him than in this moment–even when he almost killed you the day you met, you've never felt like this. A deer in the headlights, electricity coursing through your nerves as your brain struggles to choose between fight or flight.

Did he know? Did he know about all those lingering gazes and words that held guilt behind them and all those emotions that you weren't supposed to be having clogging up your chest?

Your back hits a wall and you're fucked.

Leon's hand finds your waist when he's close enough, your skin rushing hot as his breath fans your face and you smell spearmint. It's addicting. He's addicting. Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, pounding anxiously as the nerves in your body light up like a Christmas tree.

When he speaks, it’s all low tones and so fucking attractive.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs, affectionately raw in a way you never would've imagined him to be. His other hand comes up, cupping your jaw delicately and all the blood rushes to your face.

He's called you many things before, and has used more than enough adjectives to convey this disdain for you. Annoying, disgusting, naive, revolting, repulsive…but never in a million years would he have called you sweet. You must be dreaming, and if you are, you never want to wake up.

"I'm actually a very indulgent creep," you wheeze out and barely conceal a whimper. "Leon, you-"

He cuts you off as his lips press onto yours and all rational thought leaves your brain in an instant. His mouth molds to yours, fingers on your waist mindlessly beginning to run circles as he presses heavily onto you as if this is what’s been wanting just as much as you. All you can feel is him, his hands on your body, his mouth working your own in such a sinful way that makes your head spin and your stomach do cartwheels.

You close your eyes, let yourself fall from grace, and plummet.

His tongue licks into your mouth and you moan as he presses you further into the wall as if it were possible. His grip turns almost bruising on your skin as he guides the hand that had been caressing your waist down to your thigh, prompting your leg to wrap around him. When you get the hint, he uses the momentum to haul you up and you squeak as he gets his arm underneath you with ease and stabilizes you.

Leon laughs breathlessly, and he kisses on your neck. Your fingers thread through his brunette locks while you work on refilling your lungs with air. This small hint of joy–this humorous moment in something so tense–is what really matters. You can’t believe this is happening, but the way his touch burns is more than enough of an indicator that this is real.

He moves with you in his arms like you weigh nothing. Leon lets you down onto the hotel suite's bed gentle enough to not hurt you but still rough enough that you bounce from the buoyancy of the memory foam. Your back hits the mattress and everything seems to fall into place the way it should be.

Leon's hands are all over you, trailing from your hips to your stomach and up to your chest. The touch of his palms burns your skin like trails of heated lava pleasantly oozing along your veins. He burns so brightly but yet so so good. Leon hikes up your shirt, exposing your stomach to the cool air that blows across your burning body as his tongue pries your mouth open again. You hum in satisfaction as his wet muscle curls around yours hotly and arousal sparks in your gut as you feel slick just starting to begin pooling uncomfortably in your panties.

He pulls away, kissing the corner of your mouth as he pants, your legs still straddling around him even while you lie down. He looks so fucking pretty.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teases and you kick him lightly in the back with your heel.

"You wish," you retort mockingly. "You're all bark and no bite."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

You smile, something genuine and soft and so beautifully crafted just for him. "It's whatever you want it to be."

"Then let me tell you how I want it to be." His hot breaths fan across your skin and you really do feel like you're already burning as his fingers pull your shirt further and further up your torso.

"Go ahead," you pull him closer, noses bumping together as you press a feather-light kiss to the stubble on his cheek. "I'm listening."

"I want you underneath me," he admits it like he's in a confessional, but whatever this is is far from holy. "I want to hear how you sound when I make you feel good, sweetheart." He nips at your neck, soothing the tiny burn with the flat of his tongue. "Can I do that for you? Will you let me?"

You wouldn’t just hand everything over to him on a silver platter. A little teasing never hurts, right?

"I don't know," you hum, though every instinct in you screams to submit just so he can do whatever he wants with you. "All this just for a little entertainment? You sure do go all out, Kennedy."

"Is that what you think this is?" He pulls away and you almost protest at the lack of contact until you get a good look at his expression. Something like sadness and doubt lining those electric blue eyes that you've come to stare at for hours.

You don’t like the sudden shift in atmosphere so you shake your head in hopes of clearing those shadows away from his head. “Of course not–I’m sorry. That was a bad choice of wording on my part.”

He laughs, nervous and still lingering with some semblance of unease. “You sure know how to keep me on my toes.”

“I haven’t been this close with someone in a while,” you admit and shift your eyes to a random spot on the ceiling, trying to ignore the giddy feeling that came from him still hovering above you from between your legs. “You should know I’m not very…experienced or anything. I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises, fingers tilting up your chin so he can lean upward to press a warm kiss to your forehead. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

You take the time to consider this, knowing that whatever was about to unfold would be something big in your relationship. It feels like there hasn’t been enough time to process your undying devotion for him or the questions that still linger behind Ada’s appearance, but you do know that this is something you can work out. This is something you want.

Still, there’s just some things you can’t let go of.

“Before I answer that,” you sigh, hating that you’re bringing down the mood with your fears. “Can I ask what Ada was doing here–what she wanted?”

Leon’s eyes take on a new emotion and his whole body tenses. You’re afraid that you’ve struck a chord he wouldn’t want to discuss and you fearfully wonder if this would sever any chance you have with him.

“You know Ada?” he asks and it’s painful when he says so. Whatever she means to him, it must not herald any good will.

“No,” you frown. “I heard you talking a few nights ago on the balcony. You…” The words don’t come off your tongue stubbornly, trying to stuff themselves back into your throat. “You said I was nobody–that I meant nothing to you. I mean, if that’s true, then what could you possibly want me for?”

The sting of it all comes rushing back in this incredibly vulnerable moment. You were never good with intense emotions nor did you have a good handle on them when they exploded outward like a volcanic eruption. It’s no surprise when the tears start threatening to fall, though you curse them and hold them back in an attempt to keep your dignity.

Leon makes a wounded noise deep from the back of his throat.

“I was trying to protect you.”

It doesn’t make sense. “What?”

He ducks his head, and you desperately try to understand. “She’s backstabbed me more than once. I can’t count how many times Ada’s used me for her own gain, and I just–I couldn’t just let her get her hands on you that easily.”

“So…?”

“I lied,” Leon pleads, and the ice melts away from your burning heart. “You mean everything to me, (Y/n). I can’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else.”

“Leon,” you whisper, all too vulnerable and drowning in that unnamed emotion. The answer to his questions and advances pours from your lips like a sacred waterfall, ready and yearning. “I want you. Make me feel good–I’ll let you.”

His pupils dilate and he dives back down, claiming your lips with his in a rougher kiss than the ones previously before.

Your fingers tangle in his hair when he moves down, tugging on your shirt so that it could finally come off over your torso. The cool air blows across your hot skin, moaning when he massages the pad of his thumb around one of your nipples, and the pleasure sends your thoughts into a whirlwind.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought of this,” Leon murmurs, eyes slipping shut as if he was trying to map out and memorize your whole body.

You don’t get to ask what he means by that when he opens his mouth and licks the flat of his tongue wetly across your tit. Your head tilts back of its own accord, a strangled moan escaping in the process before you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. Heated shame rushes to your cheeks as you look down, already finding Leon gazing up at you, mesmerized.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he prompts, pulling your arm away. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

Why was he so persistent with the pet names? If he keeps this up, you’ll be nothing more than just putty in his hands.

“Stop,” you whine, covering your eyes like that would change anything. “You’re gonna drive me insane if you keep saying things like that.”

“Do you not like me calling you names?”

You peek through your fingers to find him all the more attentive, trying to find what you don’t like and what you want. That love, care, and attention was something you never had–never deserved. How could you tell him that he’s giving you everything you want while not discouraging him from doing so?

“It’s not that,” you swallow shamefully. “Nobody’s ever told me that. Or called me anything, for that matter. It’s just new–I think I’m trying to figure out how to handle it all.”

His expression darkens and you think he might tease you or tell you to suck it up. Instead, Leon almost growls out, “Nobody?”

You make a noise of confirmation.

“Oh, baby.” He rests his cheek on your stomach and traces patterns on your skin. “Your last partner didn’t?”

You scoff, deciding to be vulnerable just this once. “My last partner was in highschool, honey.” The pet name feels foreign, but good nonetheless. You can understand why he seems so insistent on using them with you. “Like I said–it’s been a while.”

“Even so.” He picks up his head and shakes it, moving even further down and hooking fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “They didn’t appreciate you like you deserved then.”

Your voice cracks as you rest your head back onto the pillow and whisper, “I don’t think I did.”

Down, down, down your shorts trail along your legs, leaving you in nothing but a lacy pair of underwear and all too vulnerable emotionally and physically. You make a noise of dissatisfaction, tugging on Leon’s shirt as he was still unfairly dressed.

He chuckles and gets the hint, leaning up to throw it off as you get to admire his body. There’s multiple scars from the tussles he’s engaged in with fighting bioweapons for a living, but one in particular catches your eye. Set proudly on his shoulder is a bullet bound that looks to be years old, all knotted and improperly healed. He must’ve not had the right care available to him when he got it. Leon sees you eyeing it, and smiles, albeit a bit sadly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges, falling back over you and kissing you softly, leaving a peck on your chin as he keeps going down.

“I’ll worry about it later,” you compromise.

Leon lifts one of your legs, trailing featherlight kisses down your calves and into the inside of your thighs before swapping to the other and repeating the action. You sigh blissfully, letting that arousal build like a growing fire in your belly until you absolutely need something to quell it. You need him to do it–nobody else.

There’s nobody else in the world you would be this exposed to. There’s nobody else you need.

“Leon,” you whine, hips gyrating as the accumulated wetness has become noticeably uncomfortable. “C’mon. I’m dying here.”

He actually laughs at that–not a chuckle or a huff of a breath that you’re so used to. A laugh, warm and genuine and painting lines across his features that you commit to memory in case you can never have this moment with him again. The possibility that this is a one-time thing is terrifying, but it gives you all the more reason to savor it.

Granting you some reprieve, he finally, finally, presses a heated kiss to your clothed clit and you cry out, hips bucking up of their own accord because you needed more than just the slight touches he was teasing you with. Leon gets his hands on you, driving your pelvis down and holding it in place as he licks a heated stripe up the outside of your panties. It's a warm, wet, and wild sensation–one that gives you a taste of Heaven without actually being there.

The feel of it is enough to drown you as you struggle to writhe beneath his restraint, head tossing back and heart fluttering to the beat of hummingbird wings. Your fingers tangle in his hair instinctively and pull, earning a delicious groan from him that reverberates through the room. You’re obsessed, or something along the lines of it, and you hope this never ends.

"You're so beautiful," Leon murmurs, eyes fluttering shut before he begins yanking off your panties like they offended him personally. Your glistening core is exposed to him, positively dripping from just the small things he's given you so far. "Jesus Christ, sweet girl. Is this all from the little I've done?"

You squeak as he positions your legs over his shoulders, breaths puffing right over your waiting cunt that impatiently pulses with the need to be filled. He still doesn't allow you much room to move and a desperate little noise makes its way from your throat as he teases you with everything you want so close yet so far.

"Use your big girl words," he prompts gently, tilting his head so that it rests on your inner thigh. "I need to know that you want this."

"I do," you whimper immediately, trying to find solace in tweaking one of your nipples for some sort of pleasurable reprieve. All that dignity you'd been trying to preserve goes out the window. "I want you so bad, Leon. I can't take it anymore–please, please."

"Good girl," he purrs, all sultry and seductive.

You choke on a gasp when his lips close around your folds, sucking sharply and swirling his tongue in your clit roughly. Instinctively, your hips break free and shy away from his touch, but Leon has none of it and merely pulls you back down to keep attacking your poor cunt. You moan freely, hand tugging on his hair as he laps up your arousal like a dying man and when his eyes flick up to meet yours, the fire in your belly flares.

You cry out his name, unable to vocalize or convey just how good he was making you feel. You've never had this before–this attention and euphoria.

Leon's head nods into you as his tongue fucks you deeper and you squirm under his ministrations, pushing against his face in vain as if he could grant you more than he could. He sinks his middle finger into your wet heat, tongue circling on your clit as he pumps in and out of you. The noises your pussy makes when he adds his ring finger and starts rocking them in and out of you would almost be embarrassing if you weren't so focused solely on how he was making you feel.

He eats you out like this would be his last meal, savoring the taste of you on his tongue as he fingerfucks you brutally. Experimentally, he curls his fingers up and you squeal, babbling incoherently and just settling on begging him to let you go. You can feel it building up just as he brushes against a spot deep inside you that makes you ascend, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure pricks tears in your eyes.

He moans appreciatively, sending vibrations throughout your whole body and as you grind desperately against him. He keeps you as still as he can manage, but you're not a world-class agent for nothing. Even as Leon tries to control the thrusting of your hips upward, he also has to work on keeping your legs spread open in case you crush his head in between your thighs.

Maybe he wouldn't object to it.

Leon pulls away, watching his fingers disappearing into you with a nonexistent resistance, cooing over your whimpers. "Does that feel good, sweet thing? Fuck, you taste amazing."

You keen at his words, face blazing hot as he momentarily takes the time to rub his wet fingers all across your folds so that cool air kisses between your thighs. "Leon!"

"You say my name so prettily," he sighs erotically, pushing his fingers back into you and scissoring harshly as he's knuckle-deep. "You gonna let me stretch you out? Gonna let me fuck you so good, all you can think about is my name?"

"Please," you whine again, and you have a feeling you'd be asking him for a lot tonight. Trying to think of any way to speed up the process so you can get what you really wanted, you whisper desperately, "Baby, I need you inside of me."

"Fuck," he hisses, voice gravelly as he begs. "Let me fuck you, angel. Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

Your legs spread even wider as he works on getting his jeans off, and you eye the happy trail that takes route from his belly button and disappears into the waistband of his boxers. He's leanly muscular, though he's nothing short of attractive to you.

To think that only a couple weeks ago, you would've killed yourself before even thinking about having sex with Leon Kennedy. Now, you think you would offer up yourself to whatever god existed just to be able to have this again–to be able to have him again. This vulnerable moment where all he wanted was to make you feel good and to hear you scream his name is something that has come straight out of your fantasies.

Fantasies during nights where you thought about touching yourself because of him but holding back because trying to hold back your noises while the man was literally sleeping in the same room was a horrendous idea. All that time you thought about what he would do to you and craving a touch you never thought you would get is paying off as he eyes you hungrily from above, licking the slick you'd left off of his fingers and palming the obvious tent in his boxers.

"You're staring," he comments slyly and you roll your eyes.

"And you're thinking about me," you accuse.

A smirk grows on his face, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he shuffles down the waistband of his underwear only slightly but just enough so you can see the implications of his sculpted v-line.

"How did you know?" Leon hums and you blush furiously as if that persistent heat could burn any hotter.

You turn your face away, unable to hold eye contact without getting flustered all over again. "Take it off before I do it for you, asshole."

"Would you?" He croons and you hide your face in your hands from the embarrassment of his unspoken words. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, sweetheart."

It doesn't feel like you're adults right now, but rather two stupid teens getting up to something they shouldn't and acting like they were grown ups. It doesn't help the fact that you've had a playground rivalry for who knows how long, something so childish that you can't believe you'd let your icy emotions get the better of you for all those years. You can't help but wonder if this is something you could have had if you hadn't been so blind-eyed by the J.I.E.

You feel the mattress shift beneath you and you pull your hands away from your eyes just in time to see Leon throw his discarded boxers somewhere else in the room, but it doesn't take long for your eyes to trail down. Leon's cock stands stiffly at attention, already leaking precum from the angry red tip that he hadn't even touched yet. Your mouth waters, and your hand twitches to wrap around it though you haven't had this experience for maybe over a decade.

"See something you want?" He teases, though the words barely reach your ears as he climbs back to hover over you.

You're crazy, and you know it by the way the words fall from your lips without a second thought. "Yeah. Was it from just…?"

His cockiness fades for a moment and his eyes soften, a genuine smile spreading across his features and lighting up his already-flushed face. "You're incredibly sexy when you're enjoying yourself, princess." You startle, and he laughs lowly, pecking your cheek. "Liked that one, huh?"

Leon kisses you deeply and you moan upon tasting yourself on his tongue as he feels up your torso and wipes a thumb over your breast. Blindly, you feel down his stomach, appreciating the definition of his well-deserved abs, and finally get a shaking hand around his dick. The action elicits a rich groan from him, even though you've barely even touched him.

You slide your thumb across his slit, beading wetness sliding down your palm and providing the moisture you needed to stimulate him just right. Your motions aren't smooth by any means, and Leon can probably tell that you're not used to this, but he must be getting something out of it by the way his mouth drops open and his eyes screw shut with that beautiful blush spreading across his skin like wildfire.

"Careful," he warns, but it ends with a guttural moan when your fingers brush delicately across his balls. "Shit, you're gonna make me go insane."

"It's payback, baby," you simper, groaning when he runs a finger up your folds in punishment. In revenge, you pump your hand a little faster around his length and you can feel the throbbing veins pushing into your palm.

Leon pulls your wrist away, and you go to protest, wanting to give him more like he'd given you, but he shakes his head and cuts you off with a well-meaning kiss. "We'll do that another time, doll. Right now, it's about you."

"But-"

"C'mon," he cradles your face so gently that the words die on your tongue. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm right here–I'm not going anywhere. Not not, not ever."

His words cause your emotions to soar, tears leaking vulnerably from your lashes and he wipes them away gently with the pads of his thumbs. Nobody ever stays like he promises and the threat of him breaking that vow hangs precariously in your mind on whether you'll truly take it to heart or not. All around you is him, hands on your body and voice floating richly in your ears. Could you have this again and again? Would he stay long enough to let you?

"Don't leave," you beg pathetically, looking up at him through shamefully teary eyes. "Just don't go."

"I promise," his forehead presses against yours as he whispers vows under the cover of this private moment with just the two of you. "I promise."

You lock your legs around his waist and pull him downward so that his cock taps impatiently against your stomach and Leon quickly gets the hint as he reaches down to pump himself a couple times in preparation. He kisses you deeply, passionately, as he lines up with your entrance and the weight of anticipation causes all the blood to rush to your head. He grinds for an agonizing moment, dick sliding between your folds tantalizingly slow before he finally gives in.

The head of his cock presses into your cunt and your mouth drops open, skin flushing as you pull him closer to get your lips on his to muffle the desperate sounds you make as he sinks inch by agonizing inch into you. Your thoughts scatter until nothing but Leon fills them and your heart beats marathons in your chest.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he pushes further into you as you adjust to feeling him inside of you. It's been literal years since you've last had sex and though you'd never expected it to be with Leon, it feels a lot more sentimental and pleasurable than the affairs you'd had with past partners.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," Leon groans out, rolling his hips so that he bottoms out and the euphoria washes over you so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"Le–on," his name falls brokenly from your lips, head spinning as you glance down and spot the outline of him bulging from your skin.

Leon's forearms land on either side of your head, his nose bumping yours as his lidded eyes search yours. "Say it again. Say my name again, sweet thing."

Fucking hell, his nicknames were going to be the death of you.

"Leon–" you cry out when he sharply thrusts once, twice, then slowly begins setting a pace that has you seeing stars. As he adjusts to being inside of you, his speed increases in increments. You allow yourself to be loud, because right now, you could care less about dignity when Leon was just getting started.

His hips slam against you harshly, and he has you almost screaming when you can feel your plush walls hugging every vein and definition of his cock that he drags through you sweetly. His balls clap noisily against your skin and just the sound of it alone was enough to get you high and ever so closer to that sweet release. Leon's lips land on yours, kissing you roughly and the euphoria you were gifted from him abusing your hole was enough to keep you on cloud nine for at least a week.

"Do you know how much I thought of this?" Leon grunts out, moving down so he can kiss the skin behind your ear affectionately. "Getting to fuck you so good that you don't remember anything but my name?"

His words make you whine and writhe beneath him until his hands hold your hips down so he can continue jackhammering into you at that relentless pace. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix bruisingly and the fact that he's so deep inside of you is enough to leave you absolutely dripping.

"Leon–fuck, fuck!" You cry out as he folds one of your legs up and settles your knee into the crook of his elbow, using that leverage to fuck your sweet cunt even harder.

"All mine," he mumbles, pussy drunk and caught in a brain fog. "So fucking beautiful and all for me, yeah?"

You barely manage to hum out an affirmation but the torturous pleasure he subjects you to makes it sound borderline pornographic. Your thoughts scatter in the wind and only leave you enough sense to rack your fingers through his hair as he rocks his cock in and out of your hole, addicted to the feeling as you lose yourselves within each other.

Higher and higher Leon takes you, licking up the column of your throat and biting hickeys into the skin of your neck as if to mark you as his. The pleasure burns brightly, a traveling firework climbing up to the sky in hope of exploding outward. This sensation–something you've never had before–is what makes you obsessed and afraid to ever let go. All those years that people came into your life and left without prompting is negated by the fact that he's stayed.

Leon stretches you into a full-on mating press, your knees kissing your chest as he fucks you deeper than before. You sob brokenly, clasping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life as he pistons his hips harder into your dripping heat. The weight of him on your body as he works you both up to your heights drives you crazy and you can feel all that tension building up–that firework ready to burst.

"You know how pretty you looked?" He grunts out, working his thrusts as if he could go any deeper than he already was and you squeak as he gives your tit a slap. "All dolled up and wearing that pretty little dress I picked out for you? Fuck, I was so close to taking you that night."

"Leon," you whimper as those clear blue eyes bore into yours, hooded with lust and swirling with more emotion and passion than you've ever seen before. "Shit, if that's what you really think, why didn't you do this sooner?"

"Do what, sweet thing? Fuck this pretty pussy 'til I was rearranging your guts?"

You whine submissively at his words, tugging him closer, and hiding your face in his neck. His cock ploughs into your shopping heat, fucking you like the two of you are animals. Leon swallows your gasp, tongue lolling out to beg for air until he captures your mouth and steals all the breath from your lungs. His tongue wrestles your one into submission before pulling back, a trail of saliva connecting your moist lips.

"I wanted to," he admits vulnerably, "so many times we were alone–wanted to bring you to a quiet little place where we could forget about the missions and rivalries and show you what you were missing.."

You weren't going to last long if he kept revealing secrets like this was some sort of steamy confessional.

"I thought you hated me," you gasp, keening when his pace slows and begins favoring hitting you deep and hard over speed. Your eyes roll upward before squeezing shut and just revealing the feeling of him all around you in the best case of sensory overload. "I thought you wanted me dead where I stood."

He tilts your chin up, rutting deep into you that makes you see stars. "That cocky little girl who was unkillable, maybe. But, you showed yourself to me and there you were."

"But, you-"

"I didn't want to scare you off," he sighs, something soft that contradicts the way he's still balls deep inside you. "I was ready to kill you when you landed on my doorstep at that shitty motel, but…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose you."

There's a gap where he trails off, looking into your eyes as you realize that all while you scorned him and loved him, he was going through the same tortuous emotions as you. Those encounters, shooting bullets in each other's directions and painting scars through wounds was all one-sided. Leon knows you genuinely hated him in a past life as he hated you too, wished he was dead in the same way he was so close to putting a bullet through your skull, and yet he's still here.

"I did hate you." You bury your nose into his neck. "I preyed on your downfall for so many nights and loathed that you kept me alive just to prove a point."

"And now?"

You open your eyes, looking past through tears that have started to prick your lash line. Your chest swells with an emotion you haven't felt in a long while, reigniting flames on a piece of cold coal that hasn't felt the kiss of fire for so long. This feeling that has caused you so much conflict before has a name on your heart, your mind, then your tongue.

"Now?" You reach up, brushing bangs away from his moist forehead, and bring him closer like you were telling him a secret. Your lips ghost over his as you answer. "Fuck, I love you, Leon."

That declaration seems to be the breaking point as he squishes you between his body and mattress, sinking his weight onto you as he desperately begins pounding you into the bedsheets. You moan loudly, unbidden as you relish in the feeling of Leon and trailing your fingernails down his back in angry red lines. The pleasure tips you into overdrive, and you almost scream as you feel yourself just beginning to tip over the edge.

“Leon, I,” you stutter and his hips never break stride, seemingly spurred on by the implication of your words hot and heavy in your ear, “I’m close, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You choke on your breath as he wedges a hand between your bodies, rubbing furiously at your clit while muffling your sobs with an open-mouthed kiss.

“Cum for me,” he pleads, eyes squeezing shut like you were tormenting him. “Cum on my cock baby, and I’ll cum for you too.”

Your head slams back onto the pillow, gasping and choking for air as you finally crash and that firework explodes outward. Your mind reels as you see white, gushing hotly around Leon who’s still chasing after his own high. You take the overstimulation, tears running freely now as you hold on for dear life he uses you to achieve his own orgasm, his grunts and breathy moans making home inside your memory as the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. You call out his name like a chant–a mantra, sweeter than any prayer you’ve ever had to utter.

When he pulls you in his arms, settles his full weight onto you, and kisses you so desperately like you’d disappear the moment he opened his eyes, you know he’s reached it.

Leon rams his hips so that he drives as far as he could into you, cum shooting white hot ropes and painting your walls white. You choke on your own breath as warmth spreads through your body, addicted already to the feeling of his cum spurting inside. You're mesmerized as you watch as his face pinches into something so beautiful and pretty to watch, and you wish you could ingrain the look of him coming undone into your head permanently.

Nothing but hot pants fill the air as he lifts himself from your frame, hands bracketing either side of your head as he pushes himself up to get a good look at you, blissed out on his cock and almost fucked stupid. He brushes fair from your forehead and kisses you lightly in a deep contrast to the way he had nearly bruised your lips as he came.

You shift and he winces, slamming his hands on your hips to hold you still as he stays inside of you.

"Stop," he breathes out as if it pained him.

"Leon? What are you-"

"Fuck–just please, I need–" he gasps, slightly moist forehead coming to rest on yours, "You're so good, baby. Just let me stay like this for a bit–just a second."

Your emotions take a hit as he begs you to stay despite the oversensitivity combating the need to be as close as possible to you. "Alright," you whisper, though a pressing question comes to the forefront of your mind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Why did…Why’d you kiss me?"

He laughs, all gentle and real right from his stomach and it sends shivers down your spine. You want to draw the sight of his laugh lines into your permanent memory. "Of all the things that just happened, that's what you want to know?"

"Mhm," you affirm, having no strength to try and fight him on the matter. He's left you breathless and tired, and frankly, you just want to know what’s on his mind.

"Well, that's a bit of a stupid question." He nudges your chin up with the crook of his index finger and those blue crystalline eyes catch yours to sweep you off your feet again. "I kissed you because I wanted to, sweetheart.”

You breathe, working on keeping it level as he finally slips out of you, mixed fluids leaking out of your spent cunt upon not being plugged anymore. Leon leans back, admiring his work and laughs to himself. His eyes trail up your body and your gazes connect. You find him looking at you, searching for something like he usually does, but this time, he finally seems he found what he’s looking for.

“Did I let you find it?” you ask tiredly.

“Hm?”

“Back at the cafe,” you explain with exhaustion lacing your voice. Leon gets up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, and you hear the sound of running water. When he comes back out, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge that was provided from the hotel and returns to the bedside, running the warm cloth against your oversensitive skin.

“Yeah?” He murmurs to show he’s still listening even as he carefully wipes down the inside of your thighs. “What about it?”

“You said you were looking for something, but I wasn’t letting you find it. Did I do it?”

Leon pauses in his actions, takes a good look at you though you don’t know what’s happening in that complicated head of his. Nonetheless, he smiles and crows feet crinkle his eyes as he leans over to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “You did,” he affirms sweetly, then once he deems you clean enough, he says, “You did good, baby.”

The praise goes straight to your head as you try uprighting yourself, but almost miserably failing before Leon catches you. One of his arms curls around your rigid upper back and the other tucks beneath your knees as he easily lifts you and carries you to the pull-out bed that he’s been sleeping on since you got here. Gently, he deposits you on the mattress with the water bottle before beginning to wipe himself down.

You take gentle sips, watching him as he finishes up and joins you at your side on the bed, sinking down in the much cleaner sheets and tossing the fabric over you. Quickly, you fall into place with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and legs intertwined. One of his arms lazily tosses over your waist as he buries his nose into your hair.

Never before has your heart felt so full and alive before, pumping strongly and emotionally just for the man in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling sleep weigh heavily on your mind. “For everything.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying,” he jokes, hand running cautiously up and down your back. You shudder as he feels along every scar with expert care, but you find it's not as bad as you thought it would be. “We still have a long way ahead of us.”

“We do,” you agree thoughtfully before hesitating. “Do…you feel the same way I do?”

Leon kisses the crown of your head affectionately, polling you tighter and more securely against him. “Oh, I adore you, sweet girl. You’ve got me at your beck and call, I can promise you that.”

“Okay,” you settle down, finally at peace. “You’ll stay?”

He tilts your head up, making you stare into those blue eyes that have carried you through so many years of torture and conflicted love. Leon Kennedy, this masterpiece of a man weighed down by years of his job who has tried to kill you and in turn survived your attempts to slit his throat wide open loves you. Even when you hated him, you couldn’t stay away as if the stars and the universe had destined for you to always be connected.

Maybe this is what it means to be in love–to be devoted to someone that you need then like you need the air to breathe.

“I promise,” Leon says, sleep edging on his voice warmly but still persisting to lay your fears to rest. “You’ll have to kill me to stay away from you, (Y/n). I’m yours, whenever and wherever you need, no matter the time of day. I’m staying for you because I love you.”

What a strange thing it is to be in love. But, perhaps in this moment, where you feel so incredibly warm and rich like a healthy fire with plenty of fuel to go on forever, you decide it’s not so bad.

No longer does your heart stay frozen and bitter from years of misuse, but who would’ve guessed that the man who you swore to hate for the rest of your days would be the one to finally melt it down into a blazing fire of emotion?

Far away, miles away from you and Leon, the blizzard that had forced you under the same roof all those weeks ago dissipates, finally satisfied.

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