#im watching it over work kid's shoulder lmao

[childofeberron]

damn. the new my little pony on netflix kinda sucks !

[atlabeth]

true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 

He chuckled. “So you are free?” 

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 

“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  

“Really,” you said dryly. 

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 

[mandalhoerian]

lamb to the slaughter | leon kennedy x reader

read part 1: moth to a flame pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader summary: ❛ You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince. ❜ It's as easy as that three word sentence for Leon to undo a month of moving on from him right after he comes back from Spain. Easy as surrendering to sleep. Eagerness for his uninhibited love makes you forget he isn't one to open up like that in the first place, you should have known the moment he showed up on your doorstep on his own volition that he wasn't your Leon. He'd only come back to spirit you away. Yet, each man kills the thing he loves, as a famous poet would say. But what about when the beloved lets herself be led to the killing? word count: Almost 25K (im sorry) warnings: DARKFIC, proceed with caution. porn with plot, switch leon, yandere leon (kinda? he's infected/plaga leon), lots of smut (face sitting, dry humping, couch sex, rough sex, mirror watching kinda its a window, chained leon, blowjob, tail riding, kinda bondage with chains, creampies, no protection dont be like this kids), jealousy, angst, things go to shit, abduction, leon infects you, protectiveness, confinement, psychic connection through plagas, corruption, consensual arousal-inducing venom. you got the bad ending. lmao dont look at me. we are not seeing the pearly gates notes: 🐑 i say bad ending for a reason, you can accept this as a sequel to moth to a flame or just ignore it! 🐑 leon's appearance here is inspired by the red eyes mod + the mechanic of his superior species is built on what we saw with krauser and all the plaga leon fanart i've seen. though he only lets his tail out and nothing else. 🐑 the pressure of leon's characterization got too much so i threw it all out of the window. now everyone can be equally upset. thank you for all the love, i hope you enjoy this!

🌀 read on ao3!

Leon comes back from Spain a bit different. 

Different is the specifically chosen word here because you’re not accustomed to seeing him like this. It might be you who’s the problem here, but right off the bat something’s out of place to you.

A pattern has been broken.

No contact with him for nearly a month and he appears on your doorstep one night with a dreamy smile on his face you could only imagine a younger, more carefree version of Leon could afford as if all the weight of this world has been lifted off his shoulders, and as if he isn’t here to pick up whatever he’s left behind after your break-up. 

You’re more flabbergasted than anything. He’s absolutely glowing. Healthy. His black compression shirt leaves little to the imagination underneath that leather jacket, and the tight jeans hug his legs in just the right places, your nose picking up the whiff of some rich cologne that would have you normally salivating over him had it not been for the timing. 

A delivery to home directly from your late night daydreams, tempting as a mirage in the middle of a desert, as he intends to be — you’re acutely aware why in the hell he’s dolled himself up at night knowing you’d be either reviewing some documents for work or getting ready for bed, all in your humble, homely peasant outfit. 

It doesn’t feel good knowing what might be the reason. Feels even worse sensing something’s up. 

The thing is… When Leon decides he’s done with ghosting you after the eventful business trips that have him dropping off the face of the earth, it’s almost always in bad shape. It’s rare that he breaks a bone or two, but purple, yellow and green are his colors, along with the sunken, red, and sleep-deprived, exhausted eyes. He comes back to you like a cat seeking refuge from the storm outside, for a safe place to get some rest where he can switch off the survival mode. And you’ve learned to prepare for these rainy days he tends to make his return on. 

This man standing in front of you with take-out dangling from his hand, relaxed and confident with light in his brilliant blues, perfectly silky hair, and a well-rested, handsome face that lacks all the gloom? You almost don’t recognize him. His soft and exuberant voice as he greets you, “Hey,” might as well belong to a stranger. “I look that bad? Haven’t seen you make that face in a while.”

“No,” you refuse automatically, squinting your eyes and trying to wipe the sleep off via rubbing, shaking the initial shock and the whiplash off, your hand tightens on the side of the door. The more entertaining quips have escaped you, such as: ‘More like, haven’t seen you in a while, and that, second.’ But of course your woozy first instinct is to relieve him, and rooting for how Leon can’t look bad even on the worst of days, but that’s irrelevant now, isn’t it? “Sorry, I’m a bit loopy.”

“Ah, shit.” He raises his wrist and shakes it so the sleeve of his jacket would pull back to reveal his watch. “I didn’t realize it was this late. God I am so sorry—”

“No, it’s fine—”

“I bring offerings for your time, if it’s any consolation.” He looks hopeful. God, when has he last been this youthful? It’s blinding. “Have dinner with me?”

You would have jumped at the offer one month ago and done your best to keep him around as long as possible, especially when he’s the best you’ve seen him in a long while — but he’s supposed to be a stranger to you now, an ex. You have tried to move on already, it’s such a betrayal to your overworked heart that the desire to bask in his presence is still strong as ever. 

“Hey, um.” Ever so slightly hiding behind the frame of the door, you watch as his face falls, your hesitance telling everything you can’t put into words out loud. “It’s too late for dinner.”

It comes out weird from your mouth, maybe you should have worded it differently — it feels like it’s not dinner you’re talking about, and him staring with a wrinkled line between his eyebrows as if he’s trying to control his countenance isn’t helping. 

“Should seriously focus on trying to break old habits,” he chuckles hesitantly, a voice crack towards the end of the sentence, and you have to break eye contact. “I forget my normal isn’t normal sometimes. I’m sorry.” 

You fold. 

Not because it’s what you always do, but to get whatever he wants out of the way and get him out of your life as abruptly as he decided to randomly come back today. You want this to be over already. “I’m making an exception for tonight, okay? You can’t come here like this anymore, Leon. Please understand.”

Leon's hopeful expectation slowly fades, replaced by a disappointed understanding. His eyes, once filled with a vibrant light, now dim slightly, and the confident aura that surrounded him wavers for a moment. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, before nodding slowly.

"I see," he says, carrying a tinge of sadness, you kick yourself inwardly for wanting to reach out and comfort him. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just... I wanted to see you again… To—to explain, I mean."

His words catch your attention, curiosity sparking a small candle light within you. Despite the whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you find yourself opening the door wider, gesturing for him to step inside.The way he visibly relaxes, shoulders deflating and the flash of an involuntary relieved, tiny smile on his face before he follows you inside makes your chest contract in endearment. 

This is a grown man you decided to let go. This grown man walked out on you. This grown man made you lose years of your life. This grown man doesn’t need your protection, you shouldn’t want to hide him in your ribcage, you’d be taking in a fish instead of a bird. 

The aroma of the take-out food fills the room, teasing your senses and reminding you of all the shared meals and late-night conversations you used to have. Memories flood your mind, threatening to break down the walls you had carefully built to protect yourself.

God, it hurts. He brought your favorite that he doesn’t like all that much. 

You go ahead and settle at the dining table, the take-out boxes placed between you and where he usually sits — where he used to sit whenever he came over, your base instinct embarrasses you. And as you open the containers, you look back to see what’s taking him so long or if he’s left to wash his hands, and notice that he’s just standing there in the hall, engulfed by the shadows, looking alert in the direction of the living room. You can’t see his face. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask, weirded out by how tense he is suddenly. 

He turns to you, and the kitchen light reflects strongly in contrast from his eyes precisely because he stands in the dark, like some cat. “It… smells.”

“What?” You walk over to him, mortified, trying to pick up what he’s talking about. “Is it the floor cleaner? I changed it to lavender recently. What, you don’t like it?”

“No, you… You—” He takes a few slow steps away from you as if you said something hurtful to him, awe and betrayal taking over his features. 

“Leon,” you try to reach out, confused. 

He’s looking you up and down, the weird shock he went through transitioning into perturbance. “Who is it?”

“What are you talking about—?”

“There is someone else?” He points towards the living with his chin, a look of devastation twisting his forlorn features, arms basically flattened to his side. “You brought them here and— and—”

An icy wave of chills wash over your body. “How do you know that?”

“Because it smells.” He brings a hand up and puts it on his middle as if it’s hurting, alternating between rubbing his nose and down to his chest again, like he doesn’t know what to do with his body. “Shit.”

Leon's reaction takes you aback, his sudden accusations leaving you bewildered. This is the most ridiculous thing you ever heard, what is he, an animal?  “Smells? You smelled him?”

You can’t fathom how he could have possibly known about someone else in your life, let alone the details of their presence in your home.

He gestures with his hand and slaps it back to his side, pressing his lips into a thin line before speaking. “Wonderful.” 

Never in a million years would you have expected to see Leon get bothered by another person in your life. He just isn’t the type to react, this has happened before because of course you tried him, to see if he’d get jealous the way you did — he didn’t, something about you having the right to be with anyone you want and that he can’t stop you. This was early into your ‘arrangement’ — where the line was blurred between hanging out and sleeping together, and you were naive enough to bring the scattered, floating letters between him and you together to define the word. 

This right here has to be about something else, bitterness maybe, that you could move on from him. It gets you worked up, blood slowly heating up. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. We’re not anything, Leon. Not anymore.”

Leon's gaze hardens, and for a moment, it seems like the fragility of hurt and anger flashes and trickles in. He sharply inhales, his chest rising and falling as he tries to steady himself. "I know we're not anything." He flexes his jaw, turning his face to the side in self-inflicted disappointment. "And I’m the reason, that’s on me. But damn, it’s only been a month and I’ve been miserable while you—"

You take a step closer, looking to find the middle ground in all of this. "While I’m just going about my life.” Confusion swirls in your mind as you struggle to comprehend Leon's reaction.You hadn't anticipated such a visceral response from him. You don’t know why the next second you’re trying to smooth things over to spare him, there’s no need. But you still are doing it anyway. “And he and I are friends—"

He tilts his head, something entirely cold and hostile under unreactive stoicism squares his shoulders, it’s that perpetually uninviting face of his that scares everybody off. His nostrils flare, but his voice is low and smooth. “Friends that fuck on the couch?”

“How did you—” It’s the cold chills again. “This is getting weird. How can you know that?”

Leon's eyes narrow, and the tension in the room becomes almost palpable, your nervousness almost makes it like the blue of his irises are brighter. He drops to a low, dangerous tone, but he isn’t doing anything to be threatening, so why?—. “It’s dangerous, you know? Letting unknown guys into your home. Who knows what they have in mind? What they want to do to you?”

“Sex, Leon,” you bite back, a bull to red into your apprehension, thinking why in the hell should you be intimidated when he’s being the weird one, you still have to hear about how he knows about your relations. “We had sex. Don’t be dramatic.” 

He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, and suddenly it’s making sense why you felt like something was wrong when you opened the door to him. Maybe he’s drunk on something different today and it’s influencing him. Different liquors have different attitudes. 

“I, on the other hand, have to still hear about how you know. Have you been spying on me?”

“I apparently should have.” 

“Excuse me?” You shake your head, trying to rationalize the situation where he is practically lacking, lost in his own head, his usual personality is currently unavailable to the call for reasons unbeknownst to you. He is a calm guy. Reasonable. You don’t get where this immaturity is coming from, anger-related or not. “Leon, you can’t just go ahead and talk lightly of invading my privacy! I don’t want to joke around right now!”

You should send him away to talk later, or both of your hearts are going to break ugly tonight.

Leon's gaze doesn't waver, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concealed pain and anger. "No, I wasn't spying on you," he retorts sharply, giving you the information you want to know. "But it's hard to miss when the person you care about moves on so quickly."

So he must have seen something? He came back from Spain earlier than you thought? Was this visit about interrogating you all along? 

You hate the way your hands warm up immediately with his admittance to caring about you, even though he will never outright say that he likes you or anything more. It’s unbelievable that’s what your heart decided to pick up on instead of literally anything else right now. 

The hall feels suffocating. It's as if the air itself has turned tar-thick. You take a step back, and escape into the kitchen, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the rising storm of confusion.

“I thought you wanted this. Why would me moving forward be a problem?”

“Because I can’t.” 

You want to yell at him. Why should that be your problem? He wanted this. You prepared yourself because he was perpetually with a suitcase in his hand, so much so you can’t imagine his visage otherwise.

Be calm about this. You’re a grown adult. 

"I don’t understand.” Hands grabbing at the handles of a chair, you spare a glance at him over your shoulder. "I thought we would give each other space, go our own ways."

A bitter laugh escapes Leon's lips, devoid of any humor. "Space? That's just another word for running away, isn't it? And haven’t you immediately found someone else to run towards? That’s how important I was to you, huh?"

The accusation stings, and you struggle to find the right words to defend yourself, his honesty coercing the affection out of you within the ice of self-preservation. "Leon, it's not like that. I’m trying to navigate my life, this isn’t me trying to get back at you or hurt you."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration carved into every line of his face. "Well, congratulations. You succeeded anyway."

This is getting ridiculous. You don’t know how to handle the situation because he never put you in one like it in the first place. 

How are you the guilty one? How is the blame on you, now? Why? Being with him was slow torture, loving him was a doomed gambit, and now he has the gall to make you into the bad guy — for what, prioritizing yourself for once? 

The silence hangs heavily between you, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city outside. It feels as though the foundations of your bond are crumbling beneath the weight of unresolved emotions, the connection you once shared now seems fragile, teetering on the edge of irreparable damage that you’re not sure you want to let go even though it really is the best solution to let it be. You remember how you told him that break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, it seems how the afterward would be like hasn’t crossed your mind at all. 

“Ironic of you to say that,” you mumble, turning away from him with a disbelieving smile, hands on your hips. 

“What?”

“I said,” you turn around, cold anger freezing your features in a silent mask. “That’s rich coming from you. Running away, I mean. All this time I’ve known you, you’ve run away from me—” With each example you give, you take one slow step towards him. “From intimacy, from a deeper connection. I know you couldn’t help but be away for your job and that’s not the issue here.” You stop right in front of him, seething, looking up, doing your best to keep your shit together as you shake a finger at him. “But you don’t have the right to accuse me of running away.” 

He just stands there like a statue. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away. As if this means nothing at all to him, forever the unaffected, desensitized man that he is. You have to flatten your lips to keep them from quivering.

“I’ve had to chase you like some race horse while you were sitting right next to me,” you jab that finger into his chest, not to get something out of him, but because the floodgates were finally open. “I have betted on losing dogs this entire relationship.” Another jab. “I let you treat me like a doormat.” Jab. “I gave you the patience and understanding some mothers wouldn’t give to their children—” And it finally ends with a slap with the back of your hand on his wall of a chest. “Because god smite me I made the mistake of falling in love—” A fucking joyful, pretty sparkle in his eyes that has his eyebrows lifting. It bloods your boil like nothing else. “—-and all of this for you to come into my home and pick a fight over who I fuck after breaking up with me?” You push him — or, rather, try to push him further back into the hall, and when it doesn’t work, raise your arm to point to the door. “Get out.”

Leon's jaw tightens as he stares at you and you see it jump, his gaze piercing through you, ablaze. He tries to grab you by the elbows but you shake him off. “Sweet girl, I—”

The nickname has you on the edge of crumbling and you ricochet back as if burned. “No, nuh-uh,” you rapidly shake your head and one hand at him, eyes burning, deliberately looking at his shoulder not to make eye contact. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. No. Just go. Get out of my house.”

The room plummets into an agonizing quietness filled by the heavy breathing you’re doing your best to stop from shaking as Leon stands there, his hand still lingering, frozen in a futile attempt to reach out to you standing in the light of the kitchen, and him in the shadows. The absoluteness of your words is the hammer of a judge about to fall on his head, sharpened by your anger and the shattered remnants of your flightless hopes. 

You never wanted this. It had ended so peacefully, why was he back as a vengeful ghost bringing the worst out of you — why now? Why?

Finally, Leon lowers his hand, his gaze falling to the floor. There's a momentary lowering of his guard that flickers across his face, a crack in the armor he usually wears. "I know I messed up, and I've been running away. But it's not because I don't care, it's because... I'm — I couldn’t give you anything. Not anything you deserved. Not everything I wanted. And I couldn’t face any of that without having to confront I needed to get out of your life," he says softly, caked with remorse and self-hatred. “Like being somewhere between life and death, I didn’t know what to do, how to move forward.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you feel your anger momentarily waver, you’ve seen the pain in his eyes before, the demons that haunt him from his past — you understand, you understand. In every reality possible, you’d understand, even when you don’t know. “I know, Leon.” The acknowledgment leaves you pained, but this time, don’t give anything in consolation, don’t justify the harmful outcomes of his escapism just so he wouldn’t be scared and pull himself back. Yes, you know. But that’s it. It has to be enough.  

“I want you to also know — I’m not that man anymore.” He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively, but you flinch away, unwilling to let him touch you, and he stands right at the threshold of shadows bleeding away into the light streaming from the room behind you. 

"Are you seriously about to tell me you changed, Leon? Really? No, I know you," you assert, your voice tinged with skepticism and a lick of frustration. Folding your arms across your chest, you wait for his response, your gaze fixed on him, brows furrowing but a slight smile souring your lips. “But I’ll humor you. Tell me, what could have possibly happened in such a short amount of time, because I’m not having it if it’s about us separating—” It’s mean, the way you outright grin at him, one small part of you regrets laughing at his face when he’s declaring he’s changed, but you can’t stop the poison from wanting to sink into his skin, from wanting to see yourself affecting him. “You, my late blooming pupa, had two whole years to break out of your cocoon. Don’t even waste your breath.”

Leon meets you head on, unfazed by your demeanor, it makes you feel like a child when you were in the right, brings sense to you that this was Leon you were trying to hurt, you knew he wouldn’t give you excuses some man after some piece of ass would — the hurt is bringing the girl out of you that wants to maim as she has been maimed, and he just stands there and takes it as if he wants to show you he’s had way worse before. It isn’t fair.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand unconsciously fidgeting with the edge of his jacket as he prepares to explain, raising his hands up and tracing the invisible line of the veins inside his wrist. His body language conveys a distant sense of sincerity. 

"I received a gift that opened my eyes," he confesses, his voice carrying a brooding, yet grateful significance. His eyes momentarily drift, as if lost in memories of what transpired. His fingers continue to rub along the veins, he’s recalling something, it’s not a self-soothing nervous habit that betrays his inner turmoil.

Your skepticism wavers, switched with a curious glimmer. The lamb sees the slaughterhouse and thinks it’s home again. You unfold your arms, inching closer as you invite him to elaborate. 

"It saved me. Gave me a new life. Changed me.” He pauses, looking far, far away again. “It changed everything," Leon states with a sense of conviction. He stands a little taller, his demeanor transformed by the profound impact of this revelation.

Your eyes flit in rapid blinking, captivated by his warm, honest intensity. A welcoming, pleasant surprise lingers on your face as you take in the magnitude of what he's sharing.

"Changed everything?" you question, holding back your wonder and uncertainty in fear of disappointment. Your body involuntarily leans forward, drawn in by where he’s taking this.

"Yeah. For good this time. Because I’m not… bound anymore, I’m not trapped. For the first time in forever, I know what it’s like to be truly free.” 

“Oh…” You begin to speak, but words escape you. He is uninhibited, truly elated, that soft smile on his face doesn’t carry the anxiety of what comes next. This is a first for Leon Kennedy. When you remember you mocked what might have happened to him, it fills you with shame. So, something truly wonderful did happen — could happen. It has to do with his job, that much you know. No wonder he’s insisting things have changed, what he does for a living is what haunts him like a shadow, after all, you couldn’t be more aware of that. “I’m… I’m happy for you, then, Leon. I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re not wrong for doubting me. I did.” He looks down at his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I believed I had changed before, you know — had been changed, whatever you wanna call it... Because I had to," Leon admits with introspection. He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his experience. 

"Then someone I know told me no, you haven't, you just think you have. And both of those options are worse than each other in retrospect, don't get me wrong,” his voice cracks slightly, revealing the conflict within him. There's a flicker of nostalgia and longing. 

He takes a steadying breath, his eyes locked onto yours, conveying a yearning for understanding. This is the most open he’s been with you, the most you’ve seen of him, you’re hypnotized.

"I envy who I was in 1998, but I don't want to be him. The me one month ago is superior, but he was miserable and fucking blind," Leon confesses, the air around him somehow gravitating towards him, becoming hard to breathe because of how hard he’s frowning. Self-deprecating. And his eyes are on you again, back to the moment. “You wanna know how I know I’m different now? I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”

He steps forward, into the kitchen, into the light, and shadows dance on his face, and you know what this is — the cat has decided he wants pets, seeking to butt his head into you to initiate contact, and you step backward with the sudden panic sinking in your stomach, but he keeps advancing the more you back off. 

“I’m not afraid anymore,” he rasps, and you make a small sound at the back of your throat. “Not afraid of what I want. Not afraid of wanting. Not afraid of what comes next.”

“Leon—” you interrupt, hands shooting forward, hovering just between you two, feeling his body heat, but terrified of touching him in fear of what might ignite inside you if you do. 

But he catches both your hands, intertwining your fingers and pinning them on two sides of you on the counter the moment your hips hit the lip of it, and you’re immediately steaming underneath your skin, shutting your eyes and turning your face away as his body snuggles in, flush against you. 

“It’s pathetic, the person I used to be—” he breathes, a gentle invitation, a subtle beckoning, though his words are harsh, he’s uttering them so sweetly like it’s a love letter to you, and hot wind from his words licks the side of your face, you can feel the feathery touch of his lips moving a hair’s breadth from your cheek. Your heartbeat is hammering. “He would have bitten his tongue and gone right back home to lick his wounds. Never see you again. He would think it’s what’s best for you, that he’s protecting you this way.”

You swallow, and he chases the motion, head following the movement. His nose caresses the column of your neck, the sigh that escapes his lips echoes the hidden depth of his desires, an unspoken language of pining. 

Your breath catches in your throat as Leon's increasing body heat and tantalizing weight knead and melt you like dough, his words moving you from within, his proximity creating a charged volume that crackles with tension and desire you were fighting so hard to deny. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of his presence, his warmth pressing against you, and the raw defenselessness he's revealing. 

You missed this. You missed this. You missed this. 

The blood coursing through your veins sings to him, sings for him, and you’re alive again after one month of absolute emptiness, and hate him for doing this to you.

Love him for coming back. 

His grip on your hands tightens, and you can feel the tremor in his touch, mirroring the intensity of his emotions. “Look at me.” 

You know you don’t want to, because if you were to see him right now, what he’s showing, what he’s finally allowing you to see, you wouldn’t know how to look away ever again — don’t want to hurt.

Your own heart races in response, fear and anticipation swirling within you. And he places his knuckles on your chin, gently guiding you to face him, “Don’t look away.”

Your glazed over eyes lock with his in a moment that feels suspended in time.

"Leon..." you murmur with a blend of longing and caution. The weight of unspoken possibilities bursts in color in the air between you, begging for acknowledgment.

He nuzzles closer, his lips grazing your skin with feather-light touches. Your body reacts instinctively, a tremble washing through you as his sigh tickles your neck. It's as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the magnetic pull between you, drawing you inexorably closer. It’s sweetness so intense it’s trying to hold back the bitterness, a muzzle on a hungry dog’s jaw. 

His voice, a whisper against your ear, is temptation, a pied piper. "I don't want to make the same mistakes anymore. I can't keep denying what I truly want, what my heart desires. I can’t lose you. I’m not losing you. Not like this. Please."

The admission electrifies the mood. Time stands still as you process everything, mind foggy, your own desires intertwining with his. It's a precarious precipice you find yourselves on, teetering between the past and the mirage of a future, between fear and the possibility of something more.

“That’s awfully self-centered,” you laugh weakly, not knowing if this is you unable to look away from his lips or unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze. “What if it’s too late? What if that ship has already sailed?”

He nudges your nose with his, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You don’t want me? Look into my eyes when you tell me, then.”

In that moment, you make a choice. With an upsurge of courage, you do as he asks, searching his need-darkened patience waiting for you, and you let your guard down. Closing the remaining space between, your lips find his in a tender yet fervent kiss, an unspoken consent that verbalizes everything. 

God, you want this man with all your being. One moment of vulnerability, the confirmation you needed for so long from him was enough to melt all your walls down and conquer without war — the things you let him do to you… 

What was tenderness from you ricochets back from him as desperation, he licks into your mouth like a man starved, and a sigh shudders from Leon, you feel it roll through his entire body. He catches your waist in a tight, unyielding grip, his touch conveying a scared need to hold on to you, as if to make sure you're real, and not a fleeting dream. 

“Fuck, I want you so bad. Never wanted more in my goddamn life.” The pent-up tension and unspoken emotions flow between you, igniting a flame that burns brightly, dispelling any doubts or regrets. “Let me have you. Please, let me have you.”

“Give me half of you, and I’ll give you half of me.” His lips, soft and warm, melded with yours in a passionate embrace, separate with a wet pop. “How’s that for a start?”

Leon's lips attempt to dip into yours again, but he wavers to a panting stop, leaving a lingering, ticklish warmth in their wake. His declaration, filled with a mix of intoxication and determination, spills forth. “‘ll give you all of me,” he mutters, his kisses raining down upon your skin in a frenzy of affection. “—Give you all my love. Want all of yours, too.” 

Love. He said love. 

Someone must have hit you over the head, you feel like it, all breath is knocked out of your lungs.

Leon pulls back only inches when he feels you freeze in his arms, and you see it in his eyes — he doesn’t try to hide it… 

And you realize, you’ve seen the ghost of this look before, the shyer one, the more apprehensive, curt one that was prone to hiding away. The pure adoration on his face makes him look younger, like a whole other man. 

Yet, you ask. It’s all you’ve ever wanted from him, only a passing acknowledgement and you’re a sunflower bending over backwards with the first rays of the sun. "You love me?"

Your stomach does a summersault at feeling his heart miss a beat.  "Y... yes?" he stutters, his voice rising. "Yeah."

All that romantic talk. All the insane things he said, and it’s scary to him when the word is spelled out loud. 

The room goes completely noiseless for a moment, your ribcage might as well explode at this point, and then he lets out an audible sigh, trying to calm himself down. "Is that so strange to you?" he adds. "Is that... something you... don't want?"

He knows what you feel. Known it all along, danced around it for both your sakes. Yet, he’s still asking — exposing that defenseless underbelly of his that reveals he thinks he’s unlovable, not worth it, skeptic that someone could want him in that way. 

His eyes stay locked with yours, but some of his confidence seems to have drained away. All that's left is his look of pure, unbridled infatuation, and the expression of genuine, unwavering honesty.

Your mouth seems to have gone dry, heartbeat picking up, stomach swirling, looking at him like he's out of this world, eyes flying everywhere on his face. No words come to mind for a good while. It’s a slow blooming flower at first, but the beaming of your smile takes him aback. “It’s all I wanted,” you practically exhale. 

He makes a small noise of relief and chokes out a smile. 

As your lips mold together again, a new symphony of sensations unfolds. His kiss has the devotion of held-back hunger, lips seeking and exploring every contour of yours, and you surrender completely. To how he desires you, to the intoxicating pull between you, letting your inhibitions fall away. There is only the searing heat of his touch, the intoxicating sweet taste of his mouth, the mint from an already discarded gum and something uniquely Leon, and the synchronization of your combined breaths.

He moves downwards to take nip at the corner of your mouth and then your chin, a soft hum escapes from deep within you, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he makes you feel by the littlest of sensualities.

“Leon…” Your hands find their way to his tousled hair and a waft of his shampoo fills your nose, you pull him closer, yearning for more of him. The room fills with the heady scent of desire, starting to pool deep in your stomach drop by drop.

He bites down on your jaw, knowing just how to make it pleasurable and not hurt, and you gasp out loud. “Sweet girl, my sweet girl,” he chants. His lips find their way to the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing a path of feverish kisses and gentle nips. “My sweet girl.” Each sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you rasping and yearning for more. 

You arch into him. His hands, now guided by a primal instinct, roam freely over your body. They explore every curve and dip, tracing the contours of your silhouette as if committing every inch to memory. Fingers dance along your spine, leaving a trail of delicious shivers in their wake, before finding solace in the small of your back. 

With a firm yet gentle grip, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on the counter, the cool surface contrasts with the scorching heat that burns even your palms up as he slots between your legs immediately afterwards. 

With a delicate yet possessive grip, his hands glide along your upper thighs, and a needy warmth trickles down to the crevice he grinds his crotch against, the roughness of his jeans delectable against where you need him. 

Your own hands, emboldened, mirror his actions, eagerly exploring the planes of his chest, nails dragging through the fabric. Overwrought fingers interchange between pulling on his leather jacket and the compression shirt that hugs him so tight it won't stretch. “Get this off."

A low growl reverberates deep in Leon's chest as your hands keep hungrily tugging at his clothing, seeking to peel away the layers that separate you. “In the kitchen? That impatient for me?” 

Ah, he’s trying to embarrass you. Not going to work. “Shut up you hypocrite, you made me come on your thigh in broad daylight, in the kitchen.”

“I don’t remember you complaining,” he grins against your lips, and you feel him grow bigger, straining against the cage of his jeans. “God, you were so fucking hot using me like that. Want to see you more — pleasure yourself more — in front of me. I was about to make a mess of my pants like some teenager, just looking at you and,” he rocks both of you upwards as he babbles, and your hands glide down to cradle his flaming neck, your eyes closing, head spinning with his words. “Your pussy on me, shit. I still feel it.”

“Stop running your mouth and get these off then,” you half-heartedly order, not at all an attempt to hide how turned on you are and practically dying to feel him already. 

He opts to tease, “What the lady wants, the lady gets,” like he’s only doing it because you asked him to, but he willingly complies, his movements hinting to be fueled by a shared hunger and a desire to feel your touch against his bare skin.

The leather jacket slides off his shoulders, revealing the sculpted contours of his chest, accentuated by the tight shirt that clings to him. And in one motion, that’s also off, you don’t even get to watch how his muscles ripple and flex, but your hands are on him right after, groaning at just how high his body temperature is, how wildly his heart is beating underneath your palm.

Your mind short-circuits at something foreign wiggling underneath your palms on his chest and not at the way he’s sucking red flowers on the underside of your thrown back chin. 

Your mind can be playing tricks on you, because you swear you can feel something move underneath his skin that’s not tendons, but before you can dwell on it, his lips, now free from their exploration of your neck, capture yours once more in a searing kiss, filled with a soulful need, an unspoken plea for more, as if he wants to consume every ounce of you. 

“Can’t believe kissing alone feels this good,” he says. “I could just do this all day. Have you on my lap, underneath me, above me, and just.” Your lips are teasingly bitten and tugged on. “Have this to myself.”

As his hands continue their tantalizing journey along your thighs, inching higher, you find yourself surrendering to the exquisite sensations. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, craving more friction as the restlessness grows tighter. 

The hardness of his crotch presses against the heat between your legs, creating a delicious ache that demands to be satisfied. He hisses and sighs into your mouth. “Fuck, I can’t wait. Hold on to me.” 

Leon has his arms locked tight around your legs clamped on his legs the next second, and begins to carry you out the kitchen as you hold onto his shoulders, once again in awe of how easy it is for him to manhandle you like this without at least grunting. 

You think he’s taking you to your bedroom and worrying if you left it too messy, but where you find yourself sprawled on your back instead, is the fucking couch in your living. 

The couch your one night stand had his way with you on. 

You sense a subtle shift in the currents of his shadowy gaze bearing down on you, in the flicker of his eyes, in the tightening of his jaw, that you glimpse a revelation you have not anticipated hidden beneath layers of charm and composure, the shifting of tectonic plates beneath calm waters. It’s uncharted territory. A dormant beast awoken from slumber, his demeanor betrays an unfamiliar greedy intensity that enthralls you. Once soft, subtle adoring nature of his, now holds a smidge of territorial longing, as if he yearned to claim you as his own, to wrap you in the cocoon of his desires, the undercurrent untamed, raw, unfamiliar — both to you and him. You’re no stranger to his intensity, his passion, but this is foreign to you. 

With surprised anticipation, you laugh to hide the nervousness. “I didn’t know you could be jealous.”

“I didn’t know I was capable of it either.” His big palm comes down on your stomach, fingers fanned out, and it drifts up as if he’s just taking you in, with some pressure sinking into you, and your shirt rides up because of it, exposing your stomach all the way to the beginnings of your lower ribs. “Of this much need to monopolize.” 

He hooks a strong arm around your waist and tugs you a bit up to meet his descending mouth to your revealed abdomen, leaving wet kisses and kitten bites all over, teasing by faking you out that he’ll go higher to play with your aching breasts, the tip of his nose touching the bottom curve of one and then going lower. Either way, it’s your loss, heat keeps pooling in the ever-so-hungry pit as your panties become uncomfortable already. He knows how to build you up.  “It’s so ugly in my head right now because of this goddamn smell—and all I think is what I’m looking at right now was seen by another man. Wanna fucking tear into you to get rid of it.”

You quip, “Does he smell that bad?” amused, an attempt to distract yourself from how easy he has you, hands finding his hair again and tugging, eliciting muffled groans from Leon, but the promise of roughness thrills you, the shiver going through you perking your nipples up. You honestly didn’t know he had this much of a sensitive nose up until today, goes to show how little of himself he showed you in the past. 

“He reeks.” He drags his blunt nails through the line of your waist soothing it with feathery, tickling, lazy strokes of faint pleasuring zaps as he bucks into your clothed core, drawing hisses and gasps from both of you. The rough zipper line of his jeans accentuated by his hardness hits just the right spot, you could do this forever — gosh, you have a wet spot in your panties, it feels gross but it’s so warm and it’s so good — 

Oh you love the way his eyes darken, the way his voice deepens ever so slightly when things you never thought would come from him in a million years are sent your way, goosebumps awaken all over you at the, god, you can’t believe you’re saying possessiveness. “We could, you know, get it reupholstered. If you’re paying for it—” 

“I have a better idea,” A devilish smirk curls at the corners of Leon's lips as he lifts his head from your abdomen, eyes glinting. His grip on your waist shifts to the waistband of your pants, teasingly tracing the edge. “How about instead I reclaim it so you won’t be able to sit on it ever again without getting so hot and bothered by what I did to you here. Hm?”

His touch sends invigorating currents coursing through your body, pooling desire between your thighs. You arch your back, wordlessly urging him to continue. and he kneads your hips, digging into your flesh with a delicious pressure. “I’ll make my sweet girl so fucked out stupid she forgets any touch that came before me.” He squeezes once and your cunt just throbs. “Only remembers my name.”

Fucking hell. 

"But if it bothers her, I'll consider reupholstering," he continues, a hint of playfulness there. "She’ll just have to pay in other ways."

A mischievous gleam dances in your eyes as you match his playful banter. "Oh, I have a feeling I can think of a few ways to make it worth your while," you purr, your fingers still tangled in his strands, urging him to bring his lips back to yours.

“That right?” Leon's chuckle reverberates through his chest, vibrating against your skin. He leaves a trail of heat and moisture on your stomach as he climbs up, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth with a fervor matched only by his growing desire.

His heat washes over you, and your breath hitches as you struggle to control the rising tide of need, and you can’t stop the small whine from escaping when he tempts. “How would she like it?” with hooded eyes, you see him imagining — thinking, living the filth out in his brain and not hiding it from you at all. The thought of being completely consumed by him, of surrendering to his desires, sends a torrent of suspense coursing through your veins.

With deliberate slowness, his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants, grazing over the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen, and you nod fervently, wanting Leon to stop with the leisurely approach and just fucking throw you around or bury his fingers into your pussy already — “Use your words sweet girl.” He chuckles when he sees the delicately restrained agitation of yours, his touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingertips tracing maddening circles that dangle you over promised pleasure.

His piercing stare ensnares you, a captivating force that renders you powerless. His inquiry lingers, emphasized by his almost restlessly eager fingers massaging your skin, akin to a tantalizing vow of sensual delight. In this very instant, a revelation dawns upon you—Leon's unchained greed does not arise from insecurity alone; rather, they stem from an unquenchable thirst to know you’re his, to conquer every fragment of your being and eliminate any shadow of uncertainty.

In a flurry of emotions, your words spill forth, infused with a potent blend of yearning and submission. “Take me, I want you to take me. Wanna feel only you…” Succumbing to the irresistible yearning surging through your veins, you surrender yourself to the overwhelming craving that courses within you. “Any way you want.”

His jaw falls open slightly in shock, like the shape of language has left him, hold stilling around you in an iron grip — the way his cheekbones get slightly pinked gets you bucking up to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, extending your arms at him like you’re asking for a hug. “Make me forget however you like.”

His chest expands with the big breath he sucks in, a guttural growl escaping his throat, a primal sound that makes him feel almost inhuman with another trick of the light that makes his veins appear darker, dancing, almost, as he pulls you up, leaves you dizzy with how quick he reverses your positions, it’s his back on the plush cushions now, one knee bent a little bit and you on top of him, straddling his lap. He’s looking up at you, and you flash to how you had him exactly that way before he left for Spain.

“Sit on my face.”

You blink a couple times. “What?”

His fingers catch the band of your pants and underwear. “I want you to ride my face.” The small grin that breaks out on his face after licking his lips is downright sinful. “Wanna be fucking suffocated by you.”

“Will you be alright—”

“It’s nothing to me,” The persuasion is nonchalant, like he has experience being waterboarded and it’s something trivial. “I said I’d make you remember me whenever you sit on this couch, didn’t I?” 

His request is bold, ramming the boundaries of your comfort zone, there’s the fear of crushing him and there’s the embarrassment of how he’d receive your weight, yet overcome by the part of you that craves to fulfill his desires, overtaken by how he always wants to give pleasure and not take it. 

You slowly rise from his lap, and he momentarily releases you from his hold. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the waistband of your pants, undoing them and sliding them down your legs, along with your underwear, his dilated pupils are fixated on the silvery thread of your arousal stretching. Your heartbeat quickens, a flush heating your body up at the deep assertion of, “Attagirl. Come here.”

With a deep sigh, you find the courage to surrender to the experience, encouraged by how much he seems to want this. You shift your position, allowing him to steer you to straddle his face, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his head. Your core hovers tantalizingly close to his waiting mouth, aching for the pleasure he promises to deliver. 

Not knowing when his hand sneakily crawled between your legs, you are caught by surprise when he drags a finger through your slit, gathering the moisture and spreading it around. “This all for me?”

“Hmmm,” you confirm, heartbeat shooting straight downwards, pulsing against his finger. “All for you.”

“Don’t be shy, take a seat,” A deep rumble vibrates in his chest, he’s looking drunk already, and you twitch upwards with the way hits your wetness, then, he’s massaging the tension of your thighs holding your body up. “All of your weight, sweet girl. Don’t hold back. Just sit. I promise I’ll make you feel so good, it’ll feel so good, just—” He raises his head to lick an galvanizing stripe right where you want him and you moan, the experience all the more elevated by being able to see how his eyes flutter close as if he’s feeling in and the focused pinch of his eyebrows. 

Trembling legs weakened by his begging, you begin to lower yourself onto him, the searing, wet warmth of his breath against your sensitive, aching folds making you gasp. His hands guide you and you hold onto his bulging biceps, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you find the perfect angle, anchoring you in place. 

“Le – ah! Leo—n!” You can’t even arch off from the couch when his mouth dives into your tender cunt, only able to throw your head back and tremor in place because he has you in an iron grip against him, fingers sinking into the plush of your hips the moment he hears the stutter of your sweet whining. 

He hums, and you feel the vibrations reverberate inside you, mouth hanging open when his tongue delves in, as well. 

“So good — shit…” You fall forward, hands finding purchase on the armrest of the couch, your nails digging into the fabric as his skilled tongue dances against your most sensitive parts, exploring and teasing with an expertise that leaves you respiring, a particularly shocking jolt of ache striking and leaving your vision with dancing stars when he gently nips at your clit with his teeth, your hips spasming, but unable to even squirm in peace because he won’t let you move away from him. “That! That — ah, yes, yes!”

He is just delighted and it shows in his excited panting when it gets you to start rocking your hips in sync with him, and after a while, falling back and letting you take control of the pace. 

He traces delicate patterns against your most intimate parts, setting a pattern and then breaking it, building you up and pulling you back down, teasing and exploring with a fervent hunger. “That’s perfect — yes, Leon, you’re making me feel so good, you’re — hmm! —”

The groaning moan is swallowed by an even prettier whine when you pull on his hair, it wasn’t the intention to get him to do this, you were just particularly feeling good, but you try again, and he shudders this time, a more restrained version of the sound, you swear, literally makes you gush. 

“You sound — you sound so pretty moaning from making me feel good— So pretty—” You can’ complete the sentence as he sucks on your clit, only able to babble. “So pretty, so pretty…!”

You absolutely weren't expecting being accidentally called pretty would be the final straw to start palming himself against his jeans and fucking dry hump his hand, leaving only one hand to hold you down, and he wraps his entire arm around your waist to staple you to his mouth, you feel the veins and the flexing muscles on your skin from how much strength he’s using, and it’s enough to heighten the throb in your cunt.. 

“You’re gonna come in your pants from eating me out?” The bucking of your hips becomes harsher, faster, the coil in your stomach tightening just from seeing his blissful mien and urgency of his hip thrusts, walls contracting around his tongue. “That’s so fucking sexy—”

The pleasure builds, spiraling higher and higher, each flick of his tongue sending you higher and higher, his ability to read just when you get close is exquisite, and you enjoy him slowing you down, each flick and swirl of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy, but not quite getting you there, his own hand matching that pace and edging himself on, as well. 

The world narrows down to the sensations between your legs, the sound of your own moans building in speed and pitch mingling with his fervency, a blast of heat building deep within you unexpectedly fast, like dropping from the peak of a roller coaster, a wildfire spreading. “So close, so close, so close so closesoclose!”

You cry out his name as your pleasure crescendos, he holds your gaze the entire time through it, an explosion of sensation that engulfs you in waves of ecstasy, your voice mingling with his muffled groans of satisfaction against your sensitive flesh, body oscillating with pleasure, every nerve ending electrified by the intoxicating completion Leon provides — and he laps everything up, 

He does not give you one single break. 

The next second, you’re knocked on your back, and then flipped on your stomach like a ragdoll, and he shoves you up toward the other armrest of the couch until you have to hold onto it and hold yourself up — and you have to, from how much your thighs are trembling. You don’t even have the time to look back after hearing the frantic fumbling of his zipper being pulled down before feeling his rock-hard length gliding through your puffed and abused cunt, and a pained whine shakes your body as you snap your knees shut. “Leon—Leon—I can’t—”

“You can,” he coats himself in your dripping wetness, and you’ve accidentally created more friction for him by snapping your legs together, he’s just dragging himself against you, not entering, but pushing strong enough that it gets you to shake and squirm to get away, but he hooks one arm across your torso and grips your shoulder, pulling you up so your back is flush against his sweaty, burning chest. He extends an arm and places his hand just beside yours for support. “You’re so perfect taking everything I give you. My sweet girl, always so good to me, so gorgeous — just look at you.”

He gently nudges your chin up to get you to look at something, and —

You are looking straight at the reflection of yourself in the window ahead, Leon’s chin on your other shoulder, he is also staring, watching you there — both of you look so fucked out already. 

He seems to be in a more of a drunken daze than you are, his hair is so sexily messed up as if it was deliberately styled, the fact that it was you has you clenching around nothing. You hiss when the head of his cock slips in momentarily, only to slip out as he keeps the motion of sliding back and forth,  teasing, edging, your moans become softer, yelp-ushered, and shorter.  

“Look how pretty you are,” he nips at your earlobe, looking straight into your eyes in the window. You see the raw desire etched across your face, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, and the unbridled lust that courses through your veins — the sight of yourself, lost in the throes of passion, sends a rush of arousal through you. 

He begins to bite and suckle at your neck and shoulder as the edging persists, the tension within you, yet again, beginning to stretch beyond belief without a snap at horizon, your whole body is quivering at how fast it’s coming down on you. 

“I’m gonna— Leo–n, please, please—!”

You’re teetering on the edge of ruin, the need for release becoming all-consuming. You cling to his well-built, thick arm holding you to his chest, seeking an anchor amidst the overwhelming pleasure. A particularly sharp bite at the most meaty part of your shoulder makes you cry out and he begins mumbling in your ear, needy, and keeps up the same pace just for your pleasure even though he sounds so needy. “Come for me, I want it, pretty girl, come on, give it to me—” 

With a final plunge, Leon relinquishes the tease and thrusts deep inside you, filling you completely to the hilt, and your vision goes completely white as pleasure crashes over you in a wave of intensity, your body attempting to thrash around with the force of your orgasm, his chest shudders at your strangled cry. 

He stays buried deep within your convulsing walls and just breathes and softly hisses as you come down from your high, following you as you fall forward to rest your head on your forearms on the armrest. 

He plants kisses on the ball of your shoulder, trailing a line all the way to the other one, and then coming back to your nape. “You okay?”

You whine in response, completely blissed, and feel him jump inside you.

He sighs with force. “Don’t rile me up like that just yet.”

“‘m not doin’ ‘nything…”

“You don’t know what you do to me.” His chest rumbles from how thick and deep his voice lowers, albeit in affection. “You could be watering flowers or something and I’d go out of my mind for you.”

You weakly sputter in laughter, heart expanding nonetheless. “Watering flowers?”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Couldn’t you have chosen something mundanely and unconsciously sexy. Like, I don’t know, sitting and reading a book?”

He scoffs, but you can tell he’s tiredly endeared. “Reading is sexy to you?”

“Well. You squint your eyes and clearly need glasses but the concentration is definitely hot.”

“I don’t need glasses.”

“You do. Leon, baby, you squint when you’re trying to read—”

“Maybe because I’m trying to understand what I read—”

“You don’t understand anything you read, then? Because you do it all the time.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve never had a problem with my vision.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure, dumb jock of mine.”

He responds with one singular fast and shallow thrust, testing the waters, lips curling up against your shoulder at the sweet sound rising from you. “You must have gotten the rest you needed if you’re sassing me.” 

“Fuck—” you hiss at the stretch, so delicious, stings so good. “Leon, can we just—”

“No,” He presses you forward, squishing you, and one of your hands digs into the armrest and the other one on his forearm that lines like a special pillow just for you to bury your head in. Your teary eyes accuse him in the window, your mind playing tricks on you again and makes it seem like they flash a deep red at you like some demon in your imagination. “Eyes on the window, watch me.”

He starts torturously slow, setting a lazy ebb and flow, the tip of his cock aimed to hit your G-spot every time he inches into you, his fingers are curled underneath your chin and still making you watch, but you can only look at how feral he is marking your neck like he’s some vampire, sucking and popping noises spreading around your body in ripples, and behind your tears, you can see the red eyes still on yours.   

“Faster,” you sob, feeling like you’re about to pass out from yet another building orgasm but know ultimately that’s not going to happen and it’s just how well he wrecks you. 

He moans obscenely into your ear, completing that with a delighted hiss as your nails mark his forearm laced with defined veins. “Gonna come for me again, huh? How many minutes has it been, and you’re gushing already? Are you just that perverted or is it me?”

“Yes, you, it’s you.” You throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder, and he lowers the fingers on your chin to hold you by the throat against him, putting slight pressure with at the two sides of your neck — not cutting your airway, but the blood flow to your brain, plunging you into cloud-soft, pleasure-fueled fuzziness.

“Inside?” he asks for permission, strained. His thrusts pick up, not shallow, but brutal all the way, and so do your whimpers. “Can I—” 

You can imagine the sensation of the warmth of him spilling into you. You’re so thankful for actively looking for hook-ups before this and getting on birth control for it. “Yeah, inside, come inside me—”

He bites down again, it has to be a new favorite thing for him, and he reaches down to circle your clit, pressing and playing, gentle and then sharp. 

You feel a familiar fullness growing, and clench yourself up, it makes Leon hiss. “Bathroom—” you choke, panicked. “We have to stop, I have to—”

He doubles the finger on your clit and you squeak, squeezing your thighs together — something’s coming and he keeps hitting that spot over and over and over again — you’re going to fucking wet yourself — “Leon, I’m serious, I’m gonna—”

“It’s not what you think it is,” he says, reassuring, caring, peppering kisses everywhere.

How is he so sure! 

“No, no, I can’t— Leon, Leon, Leon, Leon!”

Third time, third time it’s something else, you can’t, you can’t—

“You can.” He grunts, smothering your squirming by his weight. “Go ahead sweet girl, just like that. You’re doing wonderful, I got you. Let it go. Let it come.”

You hear the brief spray of something, the trickle of liquid between your thighs and the intermittent whining of his as he comes inside, but you swear you fucking pass out for a good fifteen seconds from how the coil of pleasure detonates in your core and shatters your consciousness in a foggy haze.

You fucking squirted. 

Didn’t even know you could do that. 

He made you because he was jealous.   

“Asshole,” you cry-mumble, trembling like a leaf. “My couch.”

He just laughs. His eyes are still glowing red in the window’s reflection. 

You’re too sleepy for this.

You’re dreaming that you’re Leon. 

It’s a weird nightmarish vision bleeding pulsating black at the edges probably fueled by imagining him as a mean demon ravishing you yesterday. 

One moment you’re looking down at yourself suffering in your sleep at the backseat of a car, head resting on his lap, some blond man even buffer than Leon is driving the car, you can see the outline of a scar at the side of his face and you call him Major Krauser; and the other you’re intensely gazing at yourself in the bathroom mirror, eyes are still red, but this time, there are dark veins mapping all over your body, all over your face, and they’re pulling back and moving.

You startle awake to an unfamiliar bedroom, a dull ache in your chest, weak and absolutely sick to your stomach that it feels like your guts are restlessly moving around. 

“The hell?” Just where are you right now? This isn’t your home. “Leon? Leon!”

Soft, muted hues adorn the walls, casting a serene ambiance that envelops the room, but you’re far from calm, the tight feeling in your chest pushing up into your lungs. Gentle lighting, emanating from carefully placed fixtures, are dancing upon the surfaces, creating a mockingly soothing ambiance with a faint scent of cleanliness, mingling with freshness.

You are on the plush bed, adorned with crisp linens and plump pillows, the centerpiece of the room, with bedside tables holding the essentials within arm's reach. Ahead is a cozy seating area with its comfortable armchairs and a snug loveseat and a work desk, strategically positioned near a well-lit window or a dedicated reading lamp. This awfully looks like a hotel room. 

He emerges from a door, and you see the glimpse of a bathroom behind him before he shuts it behind him. “Hey, you’re awake.”

The anxiety of the gap in your memory dissipates the moment you see him.

“And confused, where is this? Why don’t I remember getting here?” You grimace and prop your body to sit up, pressing the heel of your hand to where your heart is, his eyes flicker to the motion, eyebrows dropping down. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, faintly smiling, trying to hide his worry. “You were sleeping.”

You reach for the bottle of water sitting on the bedside table to your right. “And why did you feel the need to bring me somewhere while I was asleep?”

He eerily looks mysterious for a second. “You remember me talking about the gift I was given?”

“Yeah..?” 

“I’ve shared it with you.” 

“Oh-kay…” God, that water was heavenly. You weren’t aware that you were parched. “Is that why I feel sick? Did we go out last night and get blackout drunk or something, is that it?” 

“You feel sick?” You stop playing with the plastic bottle when his face hardens. “You shouldn’t be hurting, why…”

“Can we dial it back a little?” You raise your hands, remembering your priorities. “Leon, where are we? I can’t be here, I need to go to work, there is this article about the Spanish guest President Graham has dropped everything to meet with today and I need to get it out—”

“I’ve called in for you. You’re good.” 

Well. 

It was truly the right call to make given just how weird you’re feeling, just on the precipice of getting badly sick, you’re grateful he took the initiative for you but it wouldn’t have been bad to be told before he did this. The newspaper could have caused big trouble. “I would have appreciated it more if you asked me first.”

Leon looks genuinely bothered, you don’t know if it’s because you’re telling him off. “Sorry about that, I had no time before—”

“Time for what?” 

“Well…” He trails off, lost in thought. “How about I start from the beginning?”

“I’m more than happy to listen, but first, where are we? Spoilers are fine.”

A voice you don’t know abruptly cuts in and makes you jump. “Spain, sweetheart. You’re in Spain.”

Why the hell is there a stranger in your room?

“Who the hell are you?” You pull the covers up even though you’re not naked and dressed in a casual outfit you have no memory of throwing on. His presence in this room feels like a security breach because you’re in bed. “Why are you — Leon, why is—“ 

“Krauser.” Leon shoots up from his seat in urgency. “I told you to—”

What he said registers suddenly. “Spain?” You’re unbelievably alert. It’s the guy you saw in your dream, driving the car. Leon calls him the same name you heard in it, as well. “Leon, who is this, what is he talking about?”

His chest puffs up in concentrated dejection, misery engulfing him as he looks at you, mute. You ask him with your eyes to tell you the random guy in your room is kidding, but he doesn’t. 

You edge closer to the other side of the bed like you’re some scared animal. “What the fuck is going on?”

The glare he gives to the guy would have scared you shitless had it not been for the shock you’re going through. “Get out.”

This isn’t a prank. 

You finally explode, hands gripping the linens in a tight ball, heart beating a mile an hour. “Listen, I would like to be spoken to! Spain? Can you please explain it to me already!”

“Your boyfriend has given you the Las Plagas parasite, and you’re here to go through the initiation ceremony, so to speak. You’re to be presented to our Lord. Sorry, kid.” A pitying chuckle. “Should have had better taste in men.”

Huh.

Huh?

The very military-looking man, with the beret and the outfit and all, says it with the most fed up and serious intonation ever that a loud, ringing, involuntary laugh comes out from you and rings in the room, but something in your stomach hurts from the force of it, so you double down in pain, gasping. Something moves in you. “What… God, fuck, ow…”

You clutch your abdomen, the pain intensifying with each passing moment. It feels as though something is writhing inside you, twisting and contorting with a sickening energy. It’s foreign. Doesn’t belong in your body, you’re about to hyperventilate. 

Your mind struggles to process the gravity of the situation unfolding before you. Spain? Parasites? Initiation ceremony? It all sounds like a macabre nightmare, but the agony coursing through your body is alarmingly real.

You don’t know when Leon moved to get to you, but he is next to you all of a sudden, supporting you, eyes widening with concern, his earlier mysterious demeanor crumbling away. He moves swiftly, his hand reaching out to prop you. "Easy, take deep breaths, it’ll pass, I promise, I’ve got you," His voice drips with something icy as the person he’s addressing changes. “You told me that shit would take away her pain.”

Major Krauser watches the scene unfold with a mixture of detachment and sympathy. His presence is imposing in his stern countenance. "I told you it would make it easier," he interjects, gruff. "The worst of it is over. Superior species process differently than the regular one."

“Can’t we just—”

Fear grips you like a vice as you try to comprehend the magnitude of what is happening. "Why... What have you done to me?" you manage to make out, wavering with both pain and confusion.

His hands move gently, yet frantically to caress your arms in attempts to comfort you through the pain. “I saved you.”

“Oh, you are gone in the head, rookie.”  

Leon looks scary, a barely contained rage just under the surface, gripping you tighter. 

Your mind races, trying to make sense of the fragmented information you've been given. It all feels like a nightmarish delusion, an absurd reality you've been thrust into.

What’s going on? Just what’s happening right now?

Gasping for oxygen, you manage to choke out a question, desperation just beneath. "What kind of sick game is this?"

Krauser, stoic and unyielding, interrupts with a dispassionate tone, his eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity. "It's not a game. Lord Saddler seeks vessels, chosen ones who can carry the power of Las Plagas. You were chosen, through Leon."

You reel back, disbelieving. "Chosen? Lord Saddler? Leon, what in the world—"

Leon's gaze turns somber, regret across his face. "I made a choice, so we could be together. So you would be protected." He becomes pleading. “The world is about to change forever—”

Oh what the fuck.

You begin to cough uncontrollably, slapping a palm on your mouth, whole body wrecked by the velocity of the fit.

There’s blood when you remove your hand. 

“Oh, god,” you whimper, but the spillage of blood also marks the ebbing away of the pain, it’s gradually fading.  

“Make her drink it again. It should be fine, three days have passed.” 

Major Krauser, the enigmatic man who claimed you had been infected, remains stoic but watches your distress intently before leaving the room from another door. 

Three days. Three days? You slept for three days?

“I want to go home. I want to leave.”

Leon sighs, visibly sad. “I know, sweet girl, but I can’t let you go anywhere right now.” 

“Why!” You yank away from him, crawling to put some distance between him and you. You trust Leon, you see that he is loyal to you, but can’t stop freaking out. “Then explain it to me! What the hell is Las Plagas or whatever the hell it’s called! Just what did you do to me?”

“First, you have to know I’m — I was a government agent. I work to wipe out bioweapons, the kind in Terragrigia. That’s the basic gist of it, anyways. Spain was a mission. To save the President’s daughter.”

“What.”

Throughout the long and agonizing day, you continue to plead with Leon, hoping desperately that he will release you from your confining prison. Each time, he feigns sympathy and expresses apologies, but his determination remains unyielding. The realization that the man you love has become your captor sinks its fangs deeper into your psyche, a tormenting truth that threatens to shatter your sanity.

Moved to a more luxurious room, attended to by servants who treat you as though you were some revered figure, you feel the suffocating weight of your captivity. Leon, on the other hand, freely comes and goes, moving about with an air of authority and control here in this unknown location. 

The stark contrast between your roles within this twisted dynamic only further amplifies the madness of the situation. It becomes increasingly difficult to maintain your composure when everything around you appears normal, yet you are trapped, on the verge of losing your grip on reality.

Leon's attempts to justify his actions, delivered with a soft and soothing cadence, only serve to deepen the chasm between the man you once knew and this deranged version standing before you. He speaks of a global project involving the parasitic vaccination of the entire world, claiming that he only sought to protect you and longed for your reunion in this new world order. 

According to his words, everyone will be connected through what he refers to as the Holy Body, and he brought you here to shield you from the chaos that looms outside. He even speaks of defying some enigmatic figure known as "their Lord," as if he had waged a battle for your favor against him.

It’s insane. He’s insane, but looks perfectly okay saying all of this stuff. Leon wasn’t like this one month ago, it’s Spain that changed him, the dots connect themselves — the gift that he talks about wasn’t a gift at all, he was most likely infected against his will like you were, and now believes in the batshit crazy nonsense he’s talking about like it’s gossip over tea.  

You realize quite a bit late that this is a cult because of his perfectly ordinary demeanor. He’s Leon and you trust him, and it stalls your thought process. 

You have to repeat it over and over again to process it.

Leon took you against your will, to a fucking cult. 

They even have a name for god’s sake, Los Illuminados — the ‘servants’ are cultists. It’s easy to fall into the normalcy and accept it the way Leon puts it, like some fairy tale, like telling you about news from another country. 

With the new knowledge of his past, you don’t know to be in awe of him or terrified, your whole relationship unraveling in transparent context littered between the lines as you rediscover who he is as a person and why he did the things he did — but definitely lean towards the latter the more you can’t get through to him to let this stop already, it becomes more clear to you very quick there’s a certain instability to him now that wasn’t there before, something dark as if he’s balancing himself on the razor’s edge of control, it swims closer to the surface whenever you mention you want to go home. 

The Leon you remember was gloomy at times, yes, but he was also rational, calm, and grounded. He was unyielding in the face of adversity and never subscribed to such ludicrous beliefs. The dissonance between the Leon of the past and the current incarnation, who mindlessly parrots the teachings of the cult, leaves you utterly bewildered. You struggle to reconcile the two versions, grappling with the question of who he truly is and why he committed these unthinkable acts.

In these moments, when Leon reverts into the preaching mode, his gaze becomes vacant, as if he is merely regurgitating the words he has been fed. It is only when his attention turns to your well-being that glimpses of the man you love flicker to the surface. 

The conflicting emotions within you reach a boiling point, leaving you paralyzed and unsure of how to proceed.

The gaping divide between the Leon you once cherished and this altered persona rattles your very core. Fear grips your heart as questions swirl in your mind. What now? What lies in store for you? The uncertainty looms like a dark cloud, casting shadows of doubt and despair over your fragile existence.

The answer and possible salvation comes to you in the form of a man, a mysterious figure who materializes from an entry point to the room you had no idea was there. 

The dim light casts eerie shadows on his face as he greets you with a slight bow. 

“Who are you?”

“Luis Serra, Princesita. Your only chance.” He nods, lighthearted, but you see the weight of his seriousness. “We don’t have much time. If you want to get rid of the parasite, come with me, I’ll explain on the way.”

Why do you feel like all you do is being swept with whatever current washes down your way? 

It’s bizarre to be running away — from Leon, of all people. Go with this random man number two, where? To do what? What happens to Leon, then? 

Thrown off by his sudden appearance, you try to assess the situation, searching for any signs of deception or ulterior motives. 

Despite your apprehension, something about his urgent demeanor and the glimmer of hope in his eyes instill a soft landing for trust in him, you feel that he can help you somehow — but there is the obvious elephant in the room. “What about Leon?”

“I’m doing this because he asked,” Luis replies, his words carrying a sense of loyalty and commitment. They have some sort of history you don’t know. 

Without further delay, he administers a serum, providing you with a temporary respite from the torment inflicted by the parasite Leon’s infected you with. It offers relief, albeit temporary, buying you precious time before the inevitable returns in Luis’ words.

You decide to go with him and see where this path leads, you have nothing better to do, can’t see any way out of this. 

He motions for you to follow him, leading you through a concealed passage that winds its way beneath the labyrinthine corridors of the cult's stronghold — a castle, as you’re shocked to take in. The path is bleak, the air heavy with a musty scent, but you push forward, driven by pure survival instinct to get away to safety.

Luis starts explaining not too much into your journey, hushed, he has all the answers you needed in the first place, quick to the point. "Las Plagas are ancient organisms with a malevolent sentience. They infest and control their hosts, erode their will and sanity. They were made to be… weapons to be harnessed by Los Illuminados. Those who succumb to it become pawns of their leader, Saddler, carry out his agenda. Slaves to his will. They don’t have their minds intact, just flesh prisons to obey his orders."

Your first thought is of Leon, the horrible sinking feeling unspun in your stomach. 

Luis knows what you’re thinking. “Leon… and his buddy Krauser are exceptions. They possess what’s called the superior species, newly engineered.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at the same time, like he’s contemplating a good business deal. “That means free will. To a degree. Their parasites are connected to Saddler, so their bodies can be controlled, but not their minds. Not entirely. They’re not like the inferior ganados. That’s why he was able to seek you out with his own volition.” 

The realization that Leon is trapped within this nightmare strikes you like a blow, your heart sinking with each passing moment. "He isn't controlled?" you inquire, hope blossoming in your chest. "Can you save him too?"

Luis's response is filled with regret, his eyes reflecting a sorrowful truth. "I'm afraid he's beyond saving," he confesses. "The procedure I have can only remove newly hatched eggs, and Leon... well, he's already been consumed by this darkness."

The words reverberate through your mind, the horror of the situation fraying your soul. "But... I can't just abandon him!" you protest, determination and anguish trying to overpower one another.

"You'll be gone forever too if you don't," Luis warns. "It's now or never. If you hesitate, if he catches even a hint of your trail, it will be over."

“You said you were helping me because he told you to.”

“Before he was lost, yes, he made a final wish.” Luis softens, and you realize he’s grieving, too. “He told me to take you as far away as possible from him if he ever were to try and get you involved in this mess. Because he would never do that to you in his right mind, so he said. A total romantic underneath all that ice, eh?”

He would never do that to you in his right mind… 

You flash back to three days ago, to his words, to how he said he loved you, all his adoring, the broken dam of affection and how he didn’t hold back anymore. 

He wouldn’t have decided to go through with opening up to you like that had it not been for the parasite’s influence? 

Uncertainty dangles heavy as you fight with the bitter reality you thought was a dream come true, the heart-wrenching realization that the man you love has been ensnared by the very darkness he sought to protect you from — that only giving into it broke his control of keeping away from you emotionally.

Regret etches itself onto Luis's face as he observes your inner turmoil. "I'm truly sorry, Princesita," he offers with empathy. 

The moment hangs suspended, an agonizing choice looming before you, as you weigh the love you hold for Leon against the desperate need to escape the clutches of this cult. 

You don’t want to leave Leon, even when there’s something clearly wrong with him that can’t be fixed, but on the other hand… 

“Can you honestly tell me he isn’t the man I know?”

“He is less and more.” His tentativeness bleeds into the clearest possible simplification he’s able to give you.. “But isn’t the same.” 

“So what do we do? What should I do?”

You still cannot wrap your head around your whole world flipping upside down, can’t comprehend you have to leave Leon behind, you barely processed him being an agent. You’re stalling. Hesitating. And deep down in your heart, you know why. It’s because you don’t want to go. 

Leon is still Leon. 

But you’re terrified. 

 "The choice is ultimately yours to make. But I implore you to consider your own well-being and the chance to break free. I know that’s what he truly wanted."

“I—”

But as you open your mouth to respond, a sudden, excruciating pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in agony. It feels as if someone has driven a searing spike into your skull, rendering you momentarily incapacitated. Your body crumples, and you find yourself on your knees, clutching your head, desperately trying to block out the piercing ringing in your ears.

Amidst the torment, your consciousness is abruptly whisked away, transported to an ethereal realm. It is a dream-like state, observing the world through the lens of another's mind. The golden chandeliers cast a cascade of shimmering light upon turning corners and ornate doors, as the person you are connected to races frantically through the maze-like passages.

The frenzied movement abruptly halts, and your vision pulsates in tandem with the rapid beat of a heart. It’s Leon’s voice echoing through the recesses of your mind, a hidden depth of anger and desperation at the heart of his control. "I feel you," he utters, a slight tremble of heartbreak. "You're in here. I know you're listening. Where are you? Why did you leave?"

Realization dawns upon you, a profound understanding that you are inhabiting Leon's thoughts, sharing his fears and confusion. The sheer intensity of the experience overwhelms you, and you cry out, "No, make it stop!" Your consciousness briefly returns to the physical realm, tears streaming down your face, the pain of the connection too much to bear. "It hurts!"

The ethereal realm engulfs you once more, Leon's emotional turmoil swirling around you. His voice billows with remorse and longing. "It might... Things might have escalated a bit too quickly," he confesses, his tone laden with regret. "It's my fault, I got too cocky, too impatient. But I never wanted to scare you off. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. You have to trust me and open your eyes so I can do that, sweet girl, okay? I'll come get you. We’ll talk it out. You can’t run."

Confusion intertwines with the pain coursing through your being. Leon's words perplex you, as if there is a hidden meaning beneath his pleas. "My eyes?" you utter, the question hanging, unanswered.

Luis gets so loud that you’re brought back to your location for a split second. “Shit. Do not open your eyes!”

Leon hears what he says somehow — and it suddenly comes to you that if you’re in his head, he is also in your head. “Luis. I should have known.”

You feel a sharp pinch at the side of your neck that cannot even compete with the tremendous headache, and the vision begins to crumble, Leon getting fainter — his presence fading away, the last you hear of him is a furious and equally anguished, “Goddamnit, no!” before everything goes black.  

Luis detects the stirring of your consciousness before you do, and as your awareness is brought back from the dormant state you were in, he calls to you in the darkness surrounding everything. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”

You shift around, feeling the coolness of a rough surface against your back and the firmness of the stone floor beneath you. The silence is broken by a peculiar sound—an unsettling symphony of metallic echoes. Chains. Accompanied by Luis’ feet shuffling around, they slither across the ground, you can almost envision their length, extending and coiling, like serpents of iron, their echoes intertwine, creating an eerie melody because you can’t see them. 

“What are you doing?”

Luis's response is calm and purposeful. "Setting the scene," he explains. The sound of nails being hammered into stone with an underlying jingle punctuates his words, causing you to jump in surprise. "For Lancelot seeking his Guinevere."

The pieces start to come together, albeit slowly. "You want to trap him," you realize.

Luis acknowledges your understanding. "Wonderful, Princesita," he praises. "You catch on fast. Leon is connected to you somehow, and we can't progress if he sees through your eyes. So, we need to create an illusion."

Confusion and concern overflow as you question the feasibility of their plan. "But Leon is... He could be listening right now."

Luis dismisses your worries. "Do you feel that he is sharing your head at the moment?" he asks. The uncertainty in your response betrays your lack of knowledge. "Ey, you'd know," he asserts. "That means he isn't present. Perfect."

Doubts linger in your mind as you consider the risks. "Will it work? He's... well, I recently learned he's an agent. I don't think it'll be easy."

"Whose side are you on?" he teases, playful. But when he senses your unease, he quickly reassures you. "No worries, I get it. He's better with the ladies, I've learned."

You can't help but feel a pang of guilt. "Luis..."

He brushes off your concerns with understanding. "I'm almost done here. He's supposed to think you're alone, so you can't look at me when I tell you to open your eyes. I'll be hiding. Don't talk to me, don't acknowledge me, just wait."

Curiosity gets the better of you as you ask, "How are you going to..."

Luis's response is concise and determined. "It won’t be me who’s doing it. It will be you. I will be your distraction.” You hear his footsteps approaching, and something small but heavy being placed on the floor just beside you, hidden from your line of sight. “You’ll hide when he arrives, and when the time comes, I want you to shoot. Don’t worry, it’s a tranquilizer gun. Wish me luck so he won’t kill me on sight, eh?”

It doesn’t take long for him to signal you. 

You open your eyes, the darkness giving way to dimly lit surroundings. The scene before you is carefully arranged, meticulously designed to deceive. The chains that previously echoed through the room now come into view, hanging ominously from the winch on the ceiling, you follow the line with your eyes to see the other end is secured to the stone wall by a circle of nails. The clinks and clanks reverberate, amplifying the tension.

Luis is nowhere to be seen, but his presence lingers, a silent reassurance that you're not alone.

In the deafening silence, doubt gnaws at you, and you question the madness of your current circumstances. 

You’re unsure of what you truly desire, unable to look over how you really just found yourself going along with Luis's plan, not because it feels right, but because your mind is clouded, unable to think clearly. You feel like a reluctant child, accepting the path laid before you simply because it seems to be the only option available.

Uncertainty presses heavily upon you as you contemplate the impending encounter with Leon. Fear grips your thoughts, entwining with the deep-rooted emotions you still harbor for him. Despite the revelations and warnings about his true nature, your heart remains entangled in a web of love and trust, the idea of seeing him again evokes a conflicting mishmash of longing and apprehension. 

You find yourself yearning for his presence, against the knowledge that he is not the same person you once knew when the mere thought of his return conjures a happy expectation of hope within you, a desperate desire to be whisked away from the nightmarish reality that has unfolded — deep, deep down, you pine for him to be the savior, the one who can shield you from the horrors of this supernatural ordeal he inflicted upon you himself.

Yet, simultaneous fear engulfs your soul, you question your own liability, knowing that you still trust him, still harbor the potential to be swayed by his words and actions. The thought terrifies you, the notion that you might have readily agreed to his plans had he presented them differently, had he explained the sinister truth of the parasite in a more inviting manner. It's a terrifying realization, the awareness of your own susceptibility to his influence, and despite everything, he’s the only anchor you can hold on to not be swept away into that chaos. 

You want him to enter the room, to make everything right again, tell you all of this is a nightmare you made up in your head because in the real world you still miss him, and at the same time you also fear what his arrival may entail.

As if attuned to your thoughts, a prickle in your mind disrupts your musings—a subtle trickle of awareness, the sensation of being watched by an invisible presence sharing the same space as you.

So you wait, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of the impending confrontation with Leon bearing down on you. Every second feels like an eternity as you strain to listen for any sign of his approach. The air grows heavy with anticipation, and your senses are on high alert.

Suddenly, a noise echoes through the chamber, a faint, careful creak of a door opening. Your breath catches in your throat, he was so deadly silent infiltrating the building this basement is in, and you scramble to crouch and hide behind stacked boxes facing his direction, praying to god he hasn’t heard you. 

His eyes search the room in  a hardened gaze, a mask of determination, scanning every corner, every shadow with professional coldness. 

Leon cuts through the silence, as if he’s been hurt by you somehow. "Come on, I know you’re here, you don’t need to hide from me, I’m just here to talk.. Don’t be afraid of me.”

Your heart aches at the sound of his voice, you fight back tears, reminding yourself that this is necessary, for both his sake and your own — you can’t crumble right now, absolutely dreading what actually hearing him out would do to you. 

Luis emerges from where he’s hiding, unknowingly coming to your rescue, stepping forward with calculated confidence. "Looking for someone, Leon?" he asks, dripping amused intrigue.

"Where is she?" Leon demands, and you’ve never heard him like that before — that bone-chillingly cold and intimidating, menacing, low tone is downright terrifying. 

“Not even a hola for your old friend?” 

Leon fucking pulls a gun on him and your heart jumps to your throat. “Where. is. she?”

Luis raises his hands in a placating gesture, a sly smile playing on his lips. "No need for violence, my friend. I'm here to help."

Leon's grip on his weapon tightens, his suspicion evident. "I don’t need your help anymore. Tell me where she is."

Luis chuckles softly with a trace of mischief. "Ah, the stubbornness of a man in love. But I'm afraid your Princesita is in another castle."

Anger flashes in Leon's eyes, his frustration mounting. "Don’t bullshit me Luis, I know she’s here. What are you up to?"

Luis takes a step closer, sympathetic as much as he’s purposeful. "I've done what you asked of me. She's safer without you." 

Leon's face contorts with disbelief and fury, threatening to consume him. "Safer? You have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no safer place on earth right now than by my side. The world's about to go shit. The President is down, and the impending mass vaccination is nothing but a precursor to chaos. Do you think this is some deranged lover’s obsession? No."

With hopeless resoluteness, Leon continues to pour out his frustrations and fears. "Someone, be it the WHO, Terrasave, or the BSAA, someone will eventually expose the truth about the parasite spreading through medicines. And when that happens, all hell will break loose — do you understand the scale of what I’m talking about? The illusion of a smooth and controlled resolution is nothing more than a lie, and we both damn well know it."

Emotions wash over Leon, leaving him vehement and exposed, self-deprecating, raw. "I may have failed in my mission, and I may have failed everyone, but I refuse to let her become a mindless puppet like those villagers and cultists. I won't let her perish chasing scope after scope for news articles that’ll get her killed. She's all I have left." His voice quivers with a defeated tenacity and desperation, he shakes his gun at Luis. "So yes, I made a choice. It's the right one. It's the only one. A choice where I can be with her, where she can stay safe. A choice where I become the monster, but I can’t care less about the consequences anymore. So, get out of my way, Luis, and take that getaway chopper of Ada's while I'm still giving you the chance. That a good deal?"

“What happens when Saddler loses?” Luis sighs through his nose, totally unaffected by all that talk. “What happens if you die on that hill?”

His question lingers for a moment before Leon responds, less baleful and more mournful, even accompanied with a strange sense of happiness. "I know the end. As long as I get to die in her arms, it doesn't matter."

In that instant, something within you snaps. The anguished anger and the raw empathy you feel for Leon flow through your veins, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you make a decision that feels both natural and inevitable — to shoot the tranquilizer. 

You pull the trigger, the dart finding its mark with an unsettling precision, and time slows as you watch it puncture his skin, him flinching with a hand clamping around the dart and yanking it out, his wide, red eyes finding yours as you stand up, the realization dawning in his eyes. 

You want to cry when it’s relief and happiness that comes first to him upon seeing you as if on instinct, and confusion and hurt wash over his features next as he sees what’s in your hands. It's a sight that cuts through your heart. He staggers, toward you, his body fighting against the encroaching numbness, as if defying the very fate that befalls him. With outstretched arms, he reaches for you, fingers trembling, yearning for connection amidst the sense of betrayal. 

Yet, despite his desperate efforts, his strength fails him. His legs give way beneath him, and he tumbles to the ground, his reach falling short. You watch, your heart splitting in two, as he crumples in a heap of confusion. His fingers graze at where your presence is, a touch that never finds its mark.

In the waning moments before unconsciousness claims him, his eyes search yours, pleading for answers that you struggle to provide. You stand rooted to the spot, grappling with guilt and anguish, questioning the validity of your actions, second-guessing the choices that have led to this heartbreaking scene.

As Leon finally succumbs to the claim of the tranquilizer, his body surrendering to the oblivion of unconsciousness, you're left with your final commitment, crystal clear. 

Your heart was set on this from the start. You were just too scared to admit it. 

You’ll stay with him in this darkness.

Leon’s all alone here, knows he’s doomed by the narrative, can’t leave — and all he thought throughout that was you and what would happen to you. 

You can’t leave this man in the solitude of tragedy, with the first ever selfishness of his was seeking you out despite himself to protect you. No moment has solidified his love for you more than this. How he thinks of you tremendously. 

You can’t not love this man. You can’t bring yourself to obey his wishes and abandon him.

The lamb doesn’t want to leave the slaughterhouse. 

With a heavy yet determined tone, you utter the words that seal your fate. "Go, Luis."

Luis protests, filled with concern and a touch of reluctance. "You can’t—"

Tears well up in your eyes as you gaze at Leon's unconscious form, lying helpless on the cold ground. The depth of your emotions overwhelms you, but you gather your resolve. "I can't abandon him now. Not after everything he's been through. He needs someone by his side."

Luis hesitates, torn between honoring your wishes and his genuine concern for your well-being, making a final attempt to persuade you. "I understand your heartache, but you're risking everything for him. Are you sure about this? There's so much at stake — you’ll become just like him, you know? You’ll never be able to leave Los Illuminados and go back to your old life."

“You don’t get it do you? It’s true that I'm scared, Luis. Scared of what lies ahead, the stuff you’ve talked about is straight out of a dystopian novel. But I'm more scared of losing him in all of this.” It haunts you how he said it doesn’t matter if he gets to die in your arms, no regard for his own well-being and health. Leon has never cared for himself enough, that much you know, but to think his entire system has collapsed like this, to the point where he’s let himself go entirely and came to you while wounded… It’s something you can’t turn a blind eye to. A cry for help you can’t ignore. “He looked for me in this chaos. Underneath all of the excuses of protection, Leon’s just scared. He doesn’t want to be alone.” You can’t look away now that you’ve seen everything. “I can’t go back anyway after knowing this. I’d never forgive myself. It's better to face whatever’s coming with him, no matter what horrors it holds.”

“There’s absolutely nothing I can do to change your mind?”

The fact that he’s set on doing this and looking out for you until the last second because he has promised Leon and is truly concerned warms your heart up. “You really should catch that ride before it’s too late.” 

“You’re making a mistake.” His concern mingles with a touch of admiration for your unwavering will. “But he’s hell of a lucky bastard to have you by his side throughout it all. This is the sacrifice of your life, I’m not joking. And I hope it’ll be worth it.”

He’s not like you, and that’s okay. You actually admire and envy his sense of self-preservation overweighs his loyalty and promise to Leon, that’s how a normal person should be. But the situation is far from normal, and you’re infected by a mind-altering parasite for fuck’s sake, and you’re not even sure you’re going through the quarter of what Leon has. 

“Thank you Luis.” Touched by his understanding, you reach out and take Luis's hand, gratitude shining through. “For everything.”

A somber atmosphere settles in the room as Luis grows more melancholic. He takes a deep breath before making his final request. "Before I go, there's one last thing I want to ask. Considering we don't know how he’ll react when he wakes up, I think it's best to be cautious. We should chain him up, just to be safe. I don't want him accidentally hurting you in his confused state."

You hesitate, unsure about the idea of restraining Leon, but Luis's earnestness compels you to consider it. "I don't think he would ever harm me..."

Luis interrupts gently. "Oye, let me worry about that, Las Plagas is unpredictable and dangerous. Do me this favor, it’s the least you can do to pay me back, yeah? A little caution won't hurt. And if Leon questions it, you can blame me. I can handle it from a safe distance out of his reach in the comfort of my luxury ride."

With Luis's words echoing in your mind, both of you set to work, struggling like you’re trying to roll a boulder up a hill with the weight of Leon's unconscious body. The effort is tremendous, sweat pouring down your faces as you maneuver his unexpectedly heavy frame. 

Exhausted from the strenuous task, Luis hands you the key, his face flushed with exertion as you finally finish securing Leon in chains. The room is filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of your own labored breaths.

As the unvoiced question of what happens now makes itself known between you two, caught in the tension between Luis’ desire to stay and the necessity of his departure. His words come out disconnected, hesitant, obviously having an awkwardness that comes from bidding farewell under such circumstances. "Well..." he begins, trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. "It was a pleasure to know you, Princesita." His smile is half-hearted, betraying the mixed emotions within him. "I hope we never have to meet again."

The unexpected humor in his remark catches you off guard, and a genuine laugh escapes your lips, the sound reverberating through the room, mingling with the faint clinking of the chains as Leon stirs behind you, his presence a constant reminder of what you’ve decided to get yourself into.

Luis's insistence breaks through the brief moment of levity as he implores you, his eyes flicking between you and Leon's kneeling form. "Take care of him," he urges, a sense of responsibility coloring his words. "And yourself."

You offer him a reassuring smile, endlessly thankful for his guidance in getting you to realize Leon’s perspective. "Will do. You too, Luis," you respond, nothing but warmth in your heart for him as you acknowledge his efforts. "Don't feel bad about not being able to help us, please? You've done all you can."

He nods once, his features a blend of bittersweet defeat and acceptance. With a final glance, he retreats into the shadows, his presence fading away. The room feels emptier without him, and sadness washes over you, a stab of guilt for potentially failing him now that you are left alone with your thoughts and the finality of the decision you have made.

The room remains shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of Leon's steady breaths and the gentle rattling of the chains that bind him. 

Your gaze inevitably falls upon him, bound and unconscious before you. 

The sight of him, held captive by the chains, elicits strange emotions that defy explanation. There is an undeniable allure that emanates from his restrained form, drawing you in despite the chaos that surrounds you. It is a conflicting blend of fascination and revulsion, a cocktail of sensations that confound your senses. You should be consumed by panic, overwhelmed by the dire circumstances and the looming threat of the parasite within you. Yet, in this moment, a strange calm settles within your being. Is it the influence of the parasite that dulls your anxieties, or is it a resolute acceptance of the path you have chosen?

Despite the restraints that hold him captive, there is an undeniable attractiveness that surrounds him, gluing your eyes to the sight before you.

Kneeling on the floor, Leon’s muscular physique is accentuated by the susceptible position he finds himself in, the chains tightly holding his wrists above his head, rendering him defenseless and at your mercy. His sculpted arms, stretched taut and slightly strained, display the evidence of his strength even in his helpless state, veins beneath his skin appear more pronounced, as if awakened by the touch of captivity and the strain of gravity. His tousled locks of blond hair cling to his forehead and darken in shade where they meet with sweat, adding to his prettiness. Even in his unconsciousness, there is a magnetism that emanates from his chiseled features — strong jawline, cheekbones, and glistening lips that have known both determination and tenderness. The pinch of his eyebrows low over his eyes adds a touch of rugged toughness, contrasting with the vulnerability imposed upon him by the chains. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, betraying the calmness of his unconscious state. Light and shadow dance across his defined torso, revealing the slopes and curves that bear witness to his physical prowess. 

It is an unintended pull that arises from the juxtaposition of strength and exposure, dominance and surrender. The image of Leon bound and kneeling, his arms raised and secured by the unyielding chains, creates a powerful visual dichotomy — a captivating blend of control and submitting, strength and fragility.

You didn’t know you were into BDSM. Is this what it is? Why the hell does he look so mouth watering in chains to you when there are more dire matters to feel about — you are being a giant pervert about an unconscious man. Sympathy, desire, and protectiveness intertwine, blurring the lines between what is right and what is alluring. In this moment, you are both drawn to his physical presence and compelled to ensure his well-being, torn between the magic of his bound form and the urge to set him free to not let your thoughts run further.

You have no idea how much time passes before Leon's eyes flutter open, blinking away the haze of unconsciousness, and you stand up from where you were sitting, hands clasped before you in an anxious gesture, fearing his reaction. Panic briefly flashes across his face when the drowsiness clears enough for him to notice he’s bound by heavy chains, his arms held aloft and his movements restricted — the harsh tug on the chains makes you jump and that’s how he spots you standing nearby, concern etched on your features.

"You’re okay," Leon breaks the silence, his words a murmured astonishment. It's not a question, nor is it a statement of certainty. It's an observation imbued with gratitude. He's taken aback, as if his mind is struggling to comprehend that you are here with him at all. That’s the first thing he worries about? That’s what he cares about? “You stayed.”

The corner of your lips tugs upward in a soft, bittersweet smile. "Yeah, I did," you reply. The way he looks at you, as if you hold a small piece of his shattered world together, tugs at your heartstrings.

Leon’s more wary and threat-seeking when he brings up the stranger. “Luis?”  

You start playing with your fingers. "He left.” A pause. “It was my decision.” 

He sits up straighter, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Is… that so?”

It’s so bizarre having a serious conversation with him in chains now that you’re living it. “I’m… I’m sorry for the chains, I, Luis, uh—”

“No, I get it.” He says it like it’s a given and he doesn’t mind it — and that’s when you’re reminded again that he’s a specially trained agent, that’s where the attitude weirdly used to these kinds of things has to come from. “I haven’t given you a reason to trust me.” He gazes at you, his eyes betraying remorsefully hidden emotions, voice dropping down to a low whisper. “Yet you stayed anyway even when I’m like this. I never thought... I never expected anyone would ever, for me… You know.”

Your heart is a soaked towel and he has just wrenched it dry. The way he sees himself physically hurts. "I couldn't leave you, Leon.” You sniffle, head shaking as you confess, revealing your devotion. “I could never leave you."

He reaches out, his restrained hands straining against the chains, as if longing to touch you, to reassure you of his own unwavering devotion. But all he can offer is his words. "That’s all I’ve been terrified of," he admits. It stays unknown to you if the subject of the sentence is you leaving him or you not leaving him. "Ever since I caught myself falling for you, that’s what all this has been about and — this shit inside me amplifies the worst in me, and you’re still here. Damnit.” 

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you refuse to let them fall. "Leon, you are not alone in this." You want to kiss away all worries and fears he keeps to himself, now in front of you in all of their intricate, overthought glory. "I made this choice because I believe in you. I believe in us."

His gaze intensifies, searching you for any trace of doubt or unease. But all he finds is unwavering faith, and a love that refuses to be shaken. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs,  barely above a whisper. All of a sudden, the tiredness you know all so well pushes down on him. "Not after everything."

A soft smile graces your lips, a gentle warmth spreading through your entire being. Luis is wrong. He is definitely wrong — this is Leon, and he’ll always be Leon. "And I don’t deserve your love." He immediately looks like he’s going to disagree on the spot, but you don’t give him the chance. "But here we are anyway. I'm here, no matter what. I’ve made my choice. If you’ll have me too—"

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe," he vows, engraved with purpose. Just the way he says it could be added to a resume, the self-confidence and intentness of a professional in his field behind the power. "I'll prove to you that I can be the person you deserve."

"Leon, I already know the person you are. And I'm not going anywhere."

Leon's widened gaze inflames, breathing becoming more labored as he hangs his head down and nods a couple times while hiding his face from you. “Okay.”

You didn’t expect that to make you burst out laughing, and his head shoots up when he hears your laughter echoing in the chamber. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth, turning around to not let him see and think you’re mocking him. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” You manage to turn it down to snickering, screaming at yourself to stop already. “It’s just… that was so unironically you and… God, help. I don’t know why this is so funny to me—”

“Okay...”

“Stop! Stop saying okay.” You laugh again at his intonation, pushing the back of your hand against your nose. “That’s all you can say?”

Some sort of fascination surfaces beneath his stoic mask, like he’s someone who’s hearing the birds chirp for the first time. “Actually, I have a lot to say, but…” You watch him rise, his height allowing him to hold his chained wrists on his waist level. He reaches out with his shackled hands, beckoning you to come to his side, yearning for a connection, “You’re too far away for it.”

You jokingly tease. “Will you be a good boy?”

It has an immediate effect on him, sweet adoration stains into something suggestive, lingering between you like a charged current, and you can feel the shift in his demeanor, the warning tilt of his head, the faint red shine swallowing the blue of his eyes, the chains rattling as he grabs onto them in a tight, restrained grip, body tensing, a coiled energy barely contained. 

As his voice emerges in a single, sharp syllable, a low and husky whisper, “Don’t,” it sends a shiver all over your body. The words are measured, deliberate, and carry an undertow of caution that both entices and warns. It's a dark invitation. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

It’s not just you. 

You’re both fucked up. 

And you take a step closer, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest, and he watches you like a hawk. “I’m just asking a question.”

His eyes glow with an intense crimson hue in response, piercing through the dim light, making you halt when there’s only about five feet left between you and him. Black veins spread across his skin like intricate patterns of ancient curses, marking him up. And extending from his lower back, a large scorpion-like tail emerges, its barbed stinger poised in the air, and just as how the spine is a series of individual vertebrae, small bones stacked one upon the other, his tail too is articulated, allowing it to curl like a snake, curving and undulating with an eerie grace, almost as if it has a life of its own.

It dances through the air, floating towards you, its presence both beguiling and unsettling. You watch, apprehensive and curious, as Leon manipulates his tail, rotating it to show you every angle. As he nudges you gently with it, an unexpected tenderness shines through his alien appearance. "It won't hurt you," he emphasizes, a soothing reassurance. He looks like a creature plucked from the pages of a fantastical novel, but his care for you remains undeniable. "Try touching it."

You observe the chitinous exoskeleton, marveling at its texture and the otherworldly allure it possesses. "Will you feel it?" you ask, a snap of fidget in your curiosity.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a flicker of a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. "That's a dangerous thing to want, don't you think?" His words carry a double meaning, an underlying invitation to explore the depths of desire that lies beneath the surface. In that moment, you realize you've unknowingly become a participant in his intricate game, a delicate dance of discovering boundaries.

"Leon, half-insect or not, I would want every part of you," you confess, unapologetically honest and smoking with desire. A swelling of boldness overtakes you, fueled by a mix of desire and affection. You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to grasp his tail. The texture surprises you—smooth and warm, defying the expectations of a creature born from nightmares. Leon's tail jerks slightly in response to your touch, the connection between you both sending a jolt of static through where you’re touching, and he is momentarily stunned, his ardor momentarily subdued by your unabashed declaration. “I want you, always.”

"Alright, alright. You made your point," he interrupts, a flicker of bashfulness visible beneath his attempt to maintain a composed facade. The teasing spark in his eyes is replaced by a rare sentiment, his emotions laid bare before you. "Well. " Some sort of self-consciousness fogs his expression as he looks down. "Though I do feel the same,"  he concedes, pink creeping across his cheeks.

But you're not finished. You close the remaining distance between you, your eyes locked with his. "Leon, I love you." You pour your heart into those three words, stronger, unmoving, louder, hoping he understands the depth of your affection if he hasn’t gotten it yet.

He looks away for a brief moment, his gaze fixated on something indiscernible, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. "Yeah," he mumbles softly, almost lost in the space between you.

Undeterred, you reach out to gently grasp his face, turning his gaze back to meet yours. "I love you," you repeat, scolding him that he’s not taking you seriously. You want him to hear it, to understand the magnitude of your feelings.

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, quickly replaced by something akin to relief, leaning into your touch as if you’re the coolness he needs on a hot summer day. He likes hearing it from you, that much is clear, but the unfamiliarity of the sentiment leaves him momentarily at a loss for words. "Okay," he finally responds, his voice a soft affirmation.

You're about to reprimand him, demanding that he say the words you long to hear in return before you unchain him. But before you can voice your frustration, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you, throwing your world into disarray. Your vision blurs, the room spinning and tilting on its axis. You desperately blink, hoping to clear your sight, but the disorientation only worsens. The force of gravity seems to intensify, tugging at your stomach and weakening your legs, causing you to stumble forward. The pain strikes you with a merciless blow, knocking you off balance and into Leon's waiting arms. Your hands, once cradling his face, now find purchase on his shoulders for support.

"Hey!" The weight of your limp body causes Leon to follow you down, sinking to his knees just as you do. However, the chains that bind his arms above his head prevent him from fully supporting your torso. In a swift motion, he maneuvers his tail to secure your body against his, stopping you from falling backward. Your head lolls on his shoulder, basically shaking against him.

"Hang in there, come on," he pleads, trying to reach you. "Talk to me, what's happening?"

Struggling to keep the pain under a manageable level, you reply briefly, not wanting to talk. "I don't know... Felt… dizzy..."

"Shit, okay," he curses softly, his concern deepening. "Does it hurt?"

You just make a curt sound, wanting him to let it go and keep yourself from flopping like a fish out of water on the ground from how it’s ripping you apart. 

“I gotta know if it does. Can you tell me?”

You’re suffering, how does he not see? Does he need verbal affirmation that badly?

“Yeah,” you say behind gritted teeth. “Sure does.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to sting you, alright? Only a drop of venom into your bloodstream,” he explains as merciful and comforting as he’s able in your state.  “You’ll feel a pinch but it’ll relax you. It might put you in an… aroused state because of your parasite, but you’ll no longer feel pain — it’ll feel good. I’ll take care of you.”

The mention of the potential side effects of whatever he wants to do to you makes your brow furrow in confusion, but there's no time to dwell on it. The pain has become unbearable, hacking at your every thought. "I'll feel good?" you question, dying for any kind of escape from the burning.

"Yeah," Leon affirms, a tenderness that reaches deep into your soul. "You'll feel good."

A stream of questions floods your mind, but Leon interrupts before you can voice them. "Not now," he interjects, pressing the syllables with more stress and emphasis. "Will you let me take care of you?"

His distress resonates with your own need for relief. "Yes," you respond without hesitation. "Yes, okay. This pain is killing me, just do it."

With a swift movement, his scorpion-like tail hovers near your exposed nape, its barbed stinger poised and ready.

"I promise, it'll be over soon," Leon whispers, dead set on his goal. "Just hold on."

The venomous tip of his tail makes contact with your skin and a sharp pinch sends a jolt of sensation through your body, but the initial pain subsides almost instantly, replaced by a soothing coolness that spreads from the injection site. It's an odd sensation, the venom working its way through your bloodstream, numbing the pain and replacing it with a peculiar mix of relaxation and heightened sensitivity.

A soft exhale is pulled from your lips as the effects continue taking hold, the relief washing over you like a gentle wave, and you melt against Leon, wrapping yourself around him, having automatically sought him out on pure instinct. He carefully adjusts his sitting and goes down on the balls of his feet to allow you to crawl on him, ensuring you're comfortable, his tail retracting to support your back for a more comfortable embrace.

"You're doing great," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "Just let it take effect, I’m here."

The heaviness in your limbs dissipates, replaced by a newfound lightness, as if a mass has been lifted from your body. The world around you becomes hazy, the edges blurred as the arousal Leon had warned about intertwines with the relief spreading through your veins, 

It begins with a tingling warmth that spreads across your limbs, akin to tiny sparks dancing on your flesh, and then, the heat gradually intensifies, caressing your senses with a gentle yet invigorating burn that awakens every nerve ending. But amidst the rising warmth, the usual wave of the venom’s coolness follows, like a frosty breath gently kissing your skin. The burn and the coolness entwine, creating an annoying race of who gets to be on top. The heat stimulates your awareness, drawing attention to how good it feels to have Leon’s strong body against you, how you would like more, how you want to explore this new form of his as he’s ribboned up like a present before you; but simultaneously, the coolness acts as a tranquil connection to reality, tempering the fiery sensations with its gentle touch.

Leon’s unique smell underneath your nose pours into your circulation from your heaving lungs, you snuggle in to get more of his scent, in the crook of his neck, right behind his ear… You can’t help but rub your head against it like it could somehow pass to your own body — it’s all instinct, the space of your head pleasantly misty, the feeling of only wanting to get closer wiggling enthusiastically inside. You notice your hands are on the move later, running up his sides and his back, only when you feel the ripple of bumps on his spine following your fingers gliding up and down as if responding to your touch. 

“Leon…” He sucks in a sibilant sound when your nails run down his back, momentarily shivering against you. “Leon…”

“Yes, I’m here.” It’s his tail that cuddles you against him because his hands are unavailable. “What do you need, sweet girl, hm?”

How do you say you want to fuck his brains out and do as you wish with him as he’s chained when he can’t retaliate, and how turned on you’re getting by the minute? “I need you.”

You hear the chains rattle and glance up briefly to see his hands balled up in the restraints. “How do you need me?”

His tendency to take things slow and enjoy the augmentation of need as it builds up is a formidable adversary to the you of the present, the frustration is testing the limits of your endurance. There’s something carnal in the way you want him right now, eating away at your patience for playing games with him. 

You rise on your knees still framing the outside of his thighs, and taking advantage of the small difference of height it gives you, yank his hair back to make Leon look up at you, his eyebrows arch upward in an arc, the ascent giving away the shock, and his mouth falls agape, lips parting to release a whispered exclamation “I don’t need this dirty talk, I want your dick in my throat.” You stare him down, catching your reflection in his red eyes and see that the same blight webbing him up is also infesting you, shining in your eyes in the same shade of crimson as his. You simply don’t care. “Is that a satisfying answer?”  

His chin lowers, leering lascivious, and you swear the veins on his face become a more prominent shade of black. “Jesus Christ.” He yanks on the chains, the harsh sound higher in pitch with the power behind it. “Gimme the key.”

“Nooooot gonna.” He leans towards you when you scooch away from his lap, but is unable to chase you fully. You fixate on his crotch, mouth watering, throat anticipating taking in his shape, phantom soreness reminding you what’s coming. You reach out to his thighs and place your palms on his knees, running them up awfully slow, feeling the rigidifying limbs under your touch. 

“Huh? Hey, what do you mean—” He’s stuck between trying to get up and staying that way for you. “What, you’re not untying me?”

“Shut up, I’m in heat right now.” You pop the button of his jeans and bring down the zipper, palming his half-hard bulge above his underwear. “Stop complaining.”

His hips jolt up into your hand, eyes fleetingly rolling behind his head from the satisfying contact, and his cock continues to swell up in your hand, straining against the confines of his briefs. “I’m not complaining — ”

You yank his underwear down, his head popping free and dangling, you bring the underwear underneath his hips along with his jeans with a little help from him rising up and allowing them to slide down better. “You brought this on me, so I’ll feel good the way I want to. Stop. Talking.” 

Chuckling in an underestimating mirth, he’s in the middle of saying, “Yes, ma’am—” mockingly when you lift the edge of his top up to shove the crumpled fabric into his mouth, exposing the carved dips and curves of his chest and stomach. He’s rendered shellshocked for only a second before he lukewarmly glares at you, that’s how you know he doesn’t hate it and only acts like he does. That interested swishing of his tail would be enough to break the chains, but he doesn’t attempt it at all. A silent communication passes between you two, that this is an extension of the role-reversal sex you had the day he left for Spain, and he makes it clear he’s down for whatever you want to do with him. 

Without breaking eye contact, you kiss down his chest and the pads of your fingertips glide along his heated, soft and firm skin, and slow down when you reach the plane of his pronounced abs that tense with each lick and open-mouthed nibble from you, the tautness increasing when the way down from his navel and the path you follow along the veins end up becoming torturously unhurried. 

He has to breathe from his nose, and you pick up where he is on the scale of impatience from his control breaking for it to seep into how sharp or deep they become 

You decide to go on your stomach for now,  letting him remain perched, the coldness filtering into your clothes from the ground not really all that important compared to drinking in all of Leon’s crumpled microexpressions. 

A satisfied noise rises from him as you take him into your hand and give a couple pumps and purposefully stick your tongue out to let your spit dribble considerably on it for better slip and slide, he’s starting to get red in the face. 

And when he thinks it’s about to start with the usual opening of getting him in the mood by the standard jerk-off and the buildup from there, you catch him off-guard by taking him all the way into your throat in one go, concentrating to keep your gagging and choking at a manageable bodily response that won’t make you recoil and start coughing — and surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt, whatever’s in that stinger of his is making everything feel different, you are actually scratching an itch at the back of your throat with Leon and it feels so fucking good to give him head and hearing him respond so eagerly to it. 

The sound he makes despite holding his shirt up with his mouth is choked and powerful as his hips jerk forward and pushes into your mouth, his guttural whine stutters from Leon as you swallow around him. He can’t talk and respond or tell you how you’re doing, but all the pretty noises, from gruff groans, to desperate humming, and restrained moaning tell you all about how he’s feeling. 

You run your nails along the skin underneath his naval and the muscles there jump, the bobbing of your head picking up unexpectedly as you’re literally working to rip his climax off, and he doesn’t feel it sneak up on him, breathing getting more rapid and panicked at how fast you’re wrenching it out of his dick and unconscious shallow thrusts meeting your movements right in the middle — you know exactly when he’s about to come from the slight swell of his dick in down your fluttering esophagus and the tightening of his stomach. 

That’s when you stop and take him out with an audible pop, your lips puffed and red, eyes teary. It twitches before slapping against him and his shirt falls from his teeth in an agonized and disappointed groan as his hips stutter forward in an attempt to search for friction, the fucking saliva trail connecting his lips to the fabric makes your heartbeat swoop downwards. “Why? I was right there!—”

You bat your eyelashes at him, blowing cold air on his denied arousal. “I know, baby.”

“You…” His lips draw back in the middle of a low sound at you gripping his base and giving the head kitten licks, alternating between swirling your tongue around and focusing on sucking the tip only. “Ah, what the fuck.” Your tongue delves into the slit of his head and precum gushes forward, his teeth are exposed in a breathy sharp hiss and a jolt.  “Yeah, that’s it… Shit.” 

The view of his fat chest and his strained, sweat-glistening strong neck swallowing is divine, you pick up the momentum again just to see him get worked up enough to throw his head back for the sight of his striking Adam’s apple, the black veins are doing something else to you that has your insides flipping.

You catch the glimpse of his tail swishing in the air, curling at tandem with your movements. You try taking all of him again to see how it’ll move and the sudden stop and trill has you wanting some friction between your legs. “Fuu—ck, your mouth is a vision, full of me.”

You lick along the bigger vein trailing up under his cock. “Does it feel that good?”

He only nods and thrums a small shudder, but you don’t let him off the leash just yet. “How easy.” Leon’s eyes snap open at the audacity. “Being chained and played with like this…” You give him a particularly harsh pump and the chains jangle because of his sudden tug. “Letting it happen because you want it so much. Desperate to be fucked.”

The degradation alone gets him to pulsate in your hand a couple times, his brow wrinkles as if he’s suffering. “You like this.” You drag a sluggardly strong grip up his weeping cock and his tail whips the ground. “Say it.”

His muscles tense and release, creating a rhythmic movement beneath the surface of his groin upon your teeth getting into the mix. “Shit — I love it.” His arms flex, causing his shackles to rattle. “Everything you do — everything you do to me feels amazing. Keep going, nearly there, I’m about to—”

You hum around him, and he clearly feels the vibrations, rising his hips in an unbelievably hot fluid movement and cursing under his breath, ruby-stained eyes glassy and feverish and mouth thinned and bit from inside. His thighs caging you begin to shake, and you’re made aware he’s close again. 

And this time, it’s him who knows you’ll pull back when he needs it the most. “Oh no, you don’t.” 

Something coils around your torso and pins you in place so his dick can’t slip out of your mouth, you struggle for air and attempt to pull back, but Leon barges in on your alarm, hoarse and gravelly. “Easy, it’s just me, don’t worry.”

Your hands grasp to the fabric of the jeans on the inside of his thighs, finally able to comprehend he used his tail to bind you — surprisingly gentle yet immovable, it doesn’t suffocate you, nor hurt you in any way. 

Mouth still around him, you look up to see he’s watching you, possessing a smoldering zeal, hunger a glint on a knife’s edge, shadow of a sly smile dances upon his lips, a knowing smirk, a sense of assuredness amplifying how he has you, one that reveals all that he’s thinking and claims control from your hands. With every heavy breath he takes, his chest rises and falls, revealing the heightened state of his arousal, and it seems his irises glow a shade darker crimson, a pulsating energy radiating from him, a palpable magnetism that ignites a fire within your own being.

“I’m going to move us around, stay still.” 

He makes sure to remove his erection from your mouth without hurting you before it’s with a natural predator’s grace he rises and stands up, his tail maneuvering you around to sit on your knees right in front of him, and you can only gape as he wraps the excess of chains around his wrists so they don’t get in the way, his forearms and biceps pop like they belong to a god like this. 

“Pretty mouth, waiting just for me.” At this height, he’s able to reach down and run a thumb along your bottom lip and push in, rubbing through the length of your tongue, fascinated.  

The giant appendage, then, unwinds around you, but much to your astonishment, doesn’t slither away, the thinnest end sneaking its way between your thighs instead and your legs clamp around it, but the drag forward defying your refusal has you squeaking. God, the jointed nature of it, like some weirdly shaped anal beads, is acting as periodic zaps moving against your heated sex. It even has the strength to fucking lift you up. Your panties are going to be ruined at this rate. “Leon, what—”

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You’re boosted up when it gives you a particularly harsh press, stars shooting everywhere in your vision with the delicious press not just focusing on one area, but rolling through your clit and dipping to make your entrance contract. “I’ll move it, you focus on taking me.”

Fuck, this is basically the thigh riding from before but on another level, that’s so hot —  

His manacled hands wrap around the angry red of his cock, the size of his hands so titillating fisting the length. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, is that okay?”

You reflexively swallow, mouth watering instantly. “Please. Please.”

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock down your throat. I can’t refuse when you plead like that.” He rewards you by a rich thrust of his tail forward, your eyes closing in delight, you’re sure that a wet spot is forming with all that moving around. “Open up.” 

You obey and loosen your jaw as much as you can to let him set the pace, hands grabbing on the moving appendage between your legs in preparation to be used like some glory hole, but unlike your aggressive start from before, Leon is much more deliberate and unhurried in bottoming out, your head is swimming in a sea of dizzyingly gratifying smog, white and blanked out as he pleasures you through it. 

You get so lost in it that he sharply hisses and caresses your forehead with shaking hands and has to warn, “No teeth, sweet girl. Relax… Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so well, so perfect, making me feel so good.” 

You don’t mean to mewl around him the way you do, but his praises are so sweet as if he’s always getting his dick sucked for the first time, makes you feel appreciated, makes you feel special. 

Tears are streaming down your face, saliva drooling down your chin, you’re sure you’re gonna have a sore throat after this, and that sight would be ugly and messy to you, something you wouldn’t want to show anyone, needlessly embarassing, but it spurs Leon on, he craves prettying you up as he says, loves that you become a mess just for him — and you had missed all of that being a sign of neediness before all this. He loves the feeling of being special just as you do, loves that he’s able to get you filthy like this. 

“Shit — can’t believe I get to have this forever, now… Never thought… Never—” He breathily laughs, the sound turning into a wanton growl as your throat constricts through his drawn-out, unrushed thrusts. He’s babbling like a man in a confessional, speed beginning to pick up, the movement of his tail also reflecting the frenetic climb, sending your snowballing itch spiraling into completion. “Don’t care what happens anymore — don’t care, don’t care, only need this—sah, fuck!”  

His hands hastily rest on top of your hand to keep you in place and you whine and squeal, his stretch digging impossibly further down, a long groan echoing in the chamber at the same time of something metallic shattering and falling off with incredible strength, Leon’s hips twitching in place with your nose buried deep in the fuzz of hair at the base of his cock. Waves of warm spurts drizzle down your esophagus, and you don’t taste anything, but have a go at swallowing on instinct, and it coerces a strained, debauched moan out of him. 

His tail moves to pull you away from him and you sit back on your heels, shaking more so from your impending orgasm being pulled right under your feet like a rug because of the abrupt halt of the rhythm, unable to stop the coughing, wrapping a hand around your throat for dampening the soreness, and before you know it, his lips have taken the place of your hand, smothering your neck and your face with kisses. 

“You did so good. A fucking angel of sin — for me only.” He doesn’t hesitate to entwine his tongue with yours tenderly as if it’s a honeyed treat to lap up, his gratitude and enthusiasm running high as before. The way he speaks into your mouth gets you pressing your legs together to ease the painful, sweet throbbing between your legs. “You were amazing, sucked the soul out of me, holy shit.”

A whiny, “Leon,” and a tug on his shirt is all he needs to know you need him.  

“I know sweet girl, I have you.” His tail sneaks around your waist again, loose in case of your refusal. In the corner of your eye, you see the winch fastening the chains on the ceiling is squashed on the floor, yet his hands are still bound. “You trust me to make you feel good, right?”

“Yes, always.”

“You can say no if you don’t like this.” The sensation of being moved so easily by something alien is frightening as much as it’s arousing when it’s coming from Leon, your anticipation is about to drip down your legs at his tail gently propelling you up to stand on both feet steadily and turning you around so your back is facing Leon. You are bent down from the waist, and the fear of falling makes you jump, but the appendage is fully supporting you, almost making you float, you could stand on your tiptoes with full body weight and you wouldn’t crash on your forehead. “Is this alright?”

You are about to break down in a series of tremors from how much this is turning you on. “Yeah.”

His hands run along your tailbone. “I’m going to chain your wrists behind your waist. That okay?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” He doesn’t need to reach for your hands, you align them to rest on your waist on top of each other. He does adjust them a bit and sets you straight after you crane your neck to take a good look at what he’s doing — you’re only able to get a single frame of him unwinding some of the restraints around his wrists to bind them around yours, affectively connecting both your shackled wrists together in a short line of chain. One of his hands grabs and tugs, securing his tail around your torso a bit better at the same time. “How is that? Any discomfort?”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Can you please just fuck me already, I’m about to die.”

He lets you go to slide two fingers up your clothed pussy, your folds quite literally pulsing at the contact. “It’s burning up —- you want to brand me, huh?”

You don’t indulge in his running mouth, just wanting to enjoy the fiery pleasure his fondling fingers light in their wake. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He switches to pulling your pants down together with your panties, but not all the way down, making it hang in the middle of the most supple part of your thighs, efficaciously getting them to act as yet another restraint, this time, around your legs so you won’t be able to part them. Two digits easily slide inside and you yelp, held in place mercilessly. “Fuck,” he says, faintly, a subdued composure, the voice going straight to your pussy and making you clench over his fingers. “You eat me up so eagerly. That hungry, sweet girl?”

Your head’s tingling and buzzing from all that rush of blood in this position, everything gets more overwhelming when you bow your head. You just want him inside you. “Please…”

 You pitifully moan at the loss of your fingers, and the brief squeeze of his tail is comforting. “I’ll relieve you.” The replacement of his bulbous tip running through your lower lips is enough stimulation for your toes to curl inside your shoes. 

You’re shaking with the release of your anticipation, and he curses. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” The same chain that binds you both rattles when he grabs your bound wrists, your eyes widening at how his tail also simultaneously pulls you towards him to sink into his girthy length, working together with his hips. 

He’s working you. Using you. Manhandling you, drilling you into him like he’s using a fleshlight as he pleases and everything feels so euphoric, your mind descending into a foggy, floaty bliss despite the tears of instant gratification; the whole burden of responsibility, decision-making, and external pressures melt away and only he exists, and the ecstasy Leon’s spoon-feeding you.

He checks in on you, pulling on your binds, voice tight. “Feel good, sweet girl?” 

“I wa—” You hiccup, followed by a trembling whimper, wanting something for your neglected clit, you can’t reach the threshold like this, you keep rising but not enough. “I wanna come, please, let me—”

“Sshh.” His tail is circling you, like a snake twisting around its prey, and you don’t get it at first that he’s getting more of it into the grip for the fat and curling part of his stinger to be able to reach and roll over your unattended, swollen nub. 

Your mind is so sunken into the pleasure you can’t even worry about the barbed part getting near your vulnerable parts, but he’s an expert at making it knead just the way that gets you uninhibitedly screaming. “I got you, I got you.”

Your legs collapse beneath you, his tail carrying your entire weight as your climax fractures within you unexpectedly, not even taking some time to grow and spread and take time aching — it just explodes, making your body convulse in aftershock shudders, unable to contain your palpitating sobs. 

“Ah, Jesus Christ, fuck!—” The clamp of your cunt around Leon also dropkicks him into his own orgasm, shooting straight into your cervix. He rams into you a couple times before he bottoms out to the hilt, his chained hands having yours in a death-grip, staying like that until the twitching of his cock subsides and he starts going soft. 

When you come to next, the chains are completely gone, broken and shattered on the floor, even. Your clothes are straightened and he sits cross-legged on the ground, his back to a wall, and you’re on his lap, tightly hugged by him, still struggling to catch your breath. The view of his muscular arms around your waist is a delight, as always. 

“I feel disgusting,” you say. A sense of discomfort washes over you, amplified by the lingering physical sensations of sweat and fluids. Your face contorts with a mix of satisfaction and unease, the need to cleanse yourself from the stickiness that clings to your skin uncomfortable.

“I think that was amazing.”

You snort. “Not that — I mean, I want to take a bath, everything feels so sticky.”

Leon plants a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll take you.” 

He probably means somewhere you can clean yourself, but you can’t help but ask. “Take me where?” 

He pulls you in to snuggle better, resting his forehead on your shoulder, tired but playful. “Well, there’s this castle.” 

He still hasn’t told you all that much about what’s going to happen. There is no salvation from the parasite inside you anymore, it has its home in you, but you know you’re not a captive, not when you share the same chains as him. “After our visit, can I—can we return home, then?”

“I…” The sentence dies as it starts. “I don’t think that’s possible. Not for a while.”

“Because you won’t let me?”

“Because I don’t know what Saddler will want with you.”

He knew the consequences. 

Something inside you makes you change your mind — no, he chose the lesser of two evils for you knowing what was coming. 

You can’t bring yourself to blame him, this was meant to happen — you were meant for this gift, meant for this fate, to carry this creature, share it with him. You feel less doubtful and sure of this now, feel the same red of Leon’s eyes, the black of his veins, you shoulder the agony together. 

Your common sense gives a last breath as it fades into non-existence. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, shielded and spiteful. “Yeah.”

“But you still wanted me by your side.”

“I was worried.”

“You were lonely.” He succumbs into a muzzled silence, and you try to reach out once again. “At least we’re together, right?” 

“Yeah… Together in this hell.” You don’t get to see what kind of face he’s making. His deep voice is raspy, and despite his contrition, he’s holding onto you tighter than before. Failure is a shame upon him, and he doesn’t let himself be comforted. “I’m sorry for bringing you down with me.”

“I’d burn for you, anyway. I don’t care.”

He’s brusque and uncompromising. “I wouldn’t let you burn.”

“Then I’d burn with you.” You turn in his lap to look him right in the eyes — his red meets your red. “Together in this hell, right?”

Lambs to the slaughter. 

[st7rnioioss]

⋆·˚ ༘ * "I really want to kiss you." pt. 2

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: part 2 to "i really want to kiss you", go read that! (im avoiding doing a summary)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: fluff, kissing, swearing

part one

a/n: i didn’t really expect to make part two, but here we are. just a bunch of fluff, no plot really LMAO.

───────── 🐇

Friday, 9:23 pm

“Hey, you home yet?”

“Not yet, still on my way. You looked good today”

“Stop, I’m blushing”

“What I’d do to sit beside you and watch”

“Matthew, you should concentrate on not getting run over. Cut the flirting!!!”

“Sorrryyy, I can’t help it, it’s not my fault you’re practically perfect”

“I LOVE YOI SO MUCH STOP”

Sunday, 8:47 pm

“Oh my God, finally! I can’t believe it took you guys that long,” Madi exclaimed on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, he honestly kinda took me by surprise. I didn’t actually expect him to kiss me, but I had my suspicions,” you said, tucking yourself up in your covers in your soft bed.

“Tell me everything tomorrow at school, please! Also, do you think Nick and Chris knows?” Madi asked.

“Yeah, Nick texted me that Matt came home stumbling into the kitchen, yelling ‘I finally kissed her!’ and then proceeded to smile and ramble about the whole thing. His parents knows too,” you couldn’t help but blush at the imagination.

“Stop, that’s adorable. Anyways, I gotta go, I’m sorry! Tell me all about it tomorrow!” she said, the frown practically being audible.

“No it’s fine, Madi! I love you!” you said just before hanging up.

Monday, 12:21 am

“And then he asked me to kiss me again,” you giggled, taking a sip of your soda as you watched Matt turn beet red.

“Shut up, you’re embarrassing me,” he mumbled, playing with his lunch food as he looked down at you beside him. Chris was playfully hitting Matt’s shoulder, a proud expression on his faces, his mouth full of food. Nate was laughing at Chris, trying not to spit his food out.

“Finally! This was honestly painful. If only you knew how many times he came home just to ramble about you. Exhausting!” Nick sent a look to Madi who nodded, both smiling playfully at Matt. This made you blush, grabbing Matt’s hand under the table, looking up at him to smile softly.

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now, so you guys can stop complaining now,” you laughed, squeezing Matt’s hand. Matt sent a cheesy smile, giving your cheek a quick peck.

“Gross. At least don’t kiss during lunch,” Chris complained.

“Chris, shut up and eat your food with a closed mouth,” you mumbled, the whole table laughing at Chris’s offended expression.

Monday, 7:49 pm

“Matt, you’ve got to be kidding,” you laughed while yelling at Matt. You were walking on the sidewalk, the pouring rain rapidly soaking your shirt.

First he had suggested that you just took an uber home from the McDonald’s, but then he got the fantastic idea to walk instead. You liked the idea until it’s started raining heavily.

“Oh my God, my mom is gonna kill me,” Matt laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder, looking down at you, completely drenched. In a white shirt, of course.

“Well, it was your idea!” you protested, crossing your arms because you got colder.

“Oh? So it’s my fault? You agreed to walk instead of taking an Uber!” he laughed, poking your cheek. You grabbed his finger with a soft smile, rolling your eyes at him.

“Stop fucking poking me, Matt” you lowered your voice, not letting go of his finger. He then eventually got free from your grip, intertwining his fingers with yours. He just smiled at you as an apology, and it sure as hell worked.

“Well, I’m enjoying myself. I like spending time with you, even if it’s in the pouring rain,” he shot a somewhat shy smile, his eyes darting between your eyes and your chest. He then eventually settled on your eyes, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.

“You’re so gorgeous, even completely soaked. I love you, you know that, right? I’m glad I decided to kiss you on that park bench,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, making you halt your walk.

“Oh stop it, Matthew, you’re making me flustered,” you blushed, covering your face in your hands.

“Hey, don’t do that, I want to see your pretty face, just like I told you!” he giggled, grabbing your hands to lower them from your face. You locked eyes with him, reaching for his now soaked hair to move it out of your way, pecking his forehead gently.

“I love you way more,” you cheekily smiled, the both of you continuing to walk, Matt’s arm around your shoulder, yours around his waist.

a/n: i’m screaminggngnnggg😕😕😕 chris fluff coming soon😈

[malleusthehammer]

Breaking the News to Sasaki

LISTEN. LISTEN. i can’t find a good gif for this. but @ghostygloom is the idea man for this and i am in LOVE with this

Warnings: None. Pure baby fluff!

Who: Kojiro Sasaki (RoR/SNV)

Type: Headcanons, and a bit of a drabble!

This man has been HEAD OVER HEELS for you since you both met.

He tries his damn best to be the best boyfriend across the seven seas.

He saw you while he was traveling, and just never left!

Of course you didn’t mind it- i mean cmon.

You lived alone and did all the work yourself. You didn’t mind, it was just life for you.

He was always there to help carry firewood, help pick veggies, and even try to darn clothes

let’s just say- he sucks at that.

He absolutely loves it when you watch him train. It makes him feel special

OKAY OKAY ENOUGH DOMESTIC HCS HEHWHA

After you two had been together for a while, you had been getting quite sick in the early hours of the morning.

Since Sasaki is such a deep sleeper- he doesn’t even realize what’s going on.

give this man a break he has NO EXPERIENCE WHAT SO EVER

after a couple weeks it finally clicks in your head

holy shit your pregnant?!

At this point you’ve been having more fatigue lately and the work around the house is piling up

Sasaki is SO worried about you

he’s always by your side, bringing you food which he tries to cook but fails

He’s asking questions left and right “Are you okay? Should i call a doctor? are you gonna die??”

and of course, you have to calm the poor man down.

you just say you’ve probably caught a nasty stomach bug

One day, he comes back in from training and sees you pacing in the livingroom

The door let out a whine as it closed, a sigh following it. Sasaki wiped his forehead with a cloth, setting his katana down. He had been outside for a long while, leaving you to doing some thinking.

“Tsuma? Where are ya? I’ve missed you-!”

His smile widened as he stepped through the doorway, seeing you hold your stomach with your face red. You glanced at him before immediately looking down again.

“Kojiro..”

Sasaki knew this was serious. You hadn’t called him by his nickname. Was something wrong? did he do something? could he fix it?

“Yes, my dear..? Is everythin’ alright?”

You bit your lip as you blinked away some tears and walked towards him. He quickly grabbed you, pulling you into a hug. He always smelt like sweat, with a bit of pine. But it was always a smell you could look forward to when he walked in the door.

“Kojiro.. i’m.. im pregnant.”

Silence struck the room like a loud crack of thunder. His eyes widened before they curled back up from his smile. Small chuckles erupted from his chest before turning into full blown laughter. You were stunned by it. He was.. laughing?

“Tsuma! This is- This is amazing! Oh my-! Haha!”

He held you back, looking in your eyes with a bright smile. His laughter was so contagious, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re.. you’re happy?”

“Of course i’m happy! I’m with the most beautiful woman, that’s with my kid! Oh my god! Haha! This is so amazing!”

Sasaki picked you up, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck as he spun you around. Laughter filled the room, ever nook and cranny. Soon, he sat you back down on the ground. His hands sat gently on your hips as you looked up at him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders.

“Ah.. how could i have been so blessed with such a beautiful woman?”

He chuckled again, pulling you into a kiss.

Okay. Low key. I highly enjoyed writing this LMAO GRHSAHS anywasy :3

[ghostedeabha]

hello :3

i saw that you really loved fluff fics AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH ASWELL! so i was wondering if you could write something for dad!simon riley x mom!reader and they have somewhat of a big family like two teen kids and two younger kids and all of them go on a much needed vacation together🥹 like it could be anywhere you want it to be maybe a road trip to the mountains, beach, or just going out of state!

i would love to see what you do with this :3 im a sucker for fluff

have an amazing day/night :DD

gods absolutely yes, dad!simon 💳💥💳💥💥💳🥺 

i'm the biggest sucker for  family fics y’all you don't understand!!

i apologize if this is a lil shitty, i'm stoned writing this lmao

simon "ghost" riley x reader

warnings: none, lots and lots of tooth rotting fluff. reader is afab and referred to as mrs. riley once mom, mother, and with other fem terms but no specific pronouns are used and identifying gender isn't specified :)

word count: 655

a/n: simon and reader have 4 kids, twin son and daughter (4), a nonbinary teen (15) and a son (17), none of them are referred to with actual names except for the nonbinary child whose name is 'bug' (there is lore behind this i came up with while writing this if anyone wants a little fic extending on how bug chose their name), simon and the reader have been together for 18 years. i actually have no idea how old ghost is even supposed to be, i just headcanon him in his mid 30's but for this specific au he'll be 40 on the dot, reader is meant to be 38-40.

--------

"are we there yet?" you hear the whine of your four year old son come from his car seat behind you. it wasn't hard to tell the poor guy was getting restless and impatient,

"just 20 more minutes bud, keep watching bluey with your sister." your husband, simon responds to the squirrely child before you can speak up. you flash him a sweet smile and look over your shoulder to glimpse back at your children.

you were currently on a roadtrip up to scotland to visit one of simon's military friends and vacation at the beach with your family. you found it a little funny that on his break from work simon was so happy and eager about going to see one of his coworkers, but it warmed your heart to know he had such close friends especially in people he had to work with, people who he literally trusted with his life.

"how're you all holding up?" you ask the four with a sweet smile.

"good." your eldest son mumbles, not moving his attention from his phone, texting his friends.

"how about you my little bug?" you turn your attention to your 15 year old.

"i'm good mama, just playing a word search game." they replied, turning their phone to show you the progress of their game.

"nice, you're doing great. i didn't even realize that fritz was a real word."

it was just under another 20 minutes when you pulled into the driveway of simon's friend's, johnny, house. it was s beautiful, quaint thing, the ocean a few hundred feet away behind the home. as you unbuckled your seatbelt you saw the man appear from his home, holding his arms out with a loud chuckle for simon as your husband stepped out of the vehicle.

you smiled to yourself as you got out of the car, watching your husband embrace his friend gruffly as you removed your four year old daughter from her car seat. "hello darling, we're here now." you say gently to the child, who is just awakening from the nap she decided to take in the car.

bug removed your four your old son from his seat for you, holding the boy in their arms as you thank them and give their head a pat with your free hand.

you and the four children approach your husband and his friend, offering the scott a sweet smile. "it's good to see you again johnny."

"you to mrs. riley, kiddos."

"hi uncle johnny." the kids replied.

"why don't the four of you go and play on the beach? it's a private beach and there's not too many others out on it today." soap suggests to the kids with a smile, thumbing over his shoulder to point towards the beach.

it was a couple hours later, you were sat on a beach chair under an umbrella watching simon in the water with your daughter, hearing the four year old's loud and excited giggling made your heart swell. your eldest son and 15 year old playing water volleyball against johnny as your youngest son rested in your arms, tired of playing in the water and just wanting to be cuddled by his mother.

your heart felt full as you watched the scene in front of you, this vacation was well needed for everyone, your two older kids having worked incredibly hard on their schooling and grades, simon having worked hard at work as he always does. and being four is harder than it may seem, the twins needed this break just as much as everyone else.

and of course yourself, you had worked hard at home, taking care of the kids, the housework, and so much more. with and without simon, you worked hard and deserved the break too. it was nice to finally get the time to do something fun like this together as a family. you wouldn't trade it for the world.

[officialdaydreamer00]

Nui shenanigans

in which you have a tiny nui version of your fire-headed significant bother

character: idia shroud

content: cw for suggestive things (i spoil you too much gd), an unhealthy amount of tooth rotting materials, the brainworms are worming so please excuse the rotting ^-^, reader is not yuu, gender neutral reader (mainly leaning to afab/fem aligned readers)

pausing the event to whip up a birthday present for @identity-theft-101! happy spawn date you biteable fucking gremlin <3

this feels so much like im working on PR lmao

first of all, the idia nui is sentient, let's get that over with. idia nui is an exact copy of the real idia, just in tiny doll form.

he's only 10cm tall (or about 3.9 inches) so he can fit snuggly in your palm or your shirt pocket.

very, i mean very, affectionate. touch starved too, he craves and will soak up any physical contacts from you like a sponge. just like idia lmao

also very squishy and biteable, since he doesn't take any physical damage. use that information to your likings :)

now that's out of the way, we gonna talk about the interesting stuffs.

when i tell you he's a carbon copy of idia in doll form, i mean rook hunt level accuracy. the resemblance is concerning.

from the mannerisms to the actions, idia nui acts just like our local fire hair ipad kid. except that it looks even cuter, somehow.

idia nui can be carried to places. just place him on your shoulder, in your shirt pocket or hoodie hood. for fem aligned folks, you can even let him vibe in your bra pocket.

idia nui, of course, has quite a case of social anxiety. he doesn't do well with people, so hide his existence when you're in the presense of other human beings, please.

you can always share your love and interests with idia nui. he will listen to your ramblings with rapt attention and encourages you with his adorably shy smiles.

as expected, idia is seething with jealousy, seeing how idia nui can do things that he can't. social anxiety fucks with his brain so badly.

ans now you have two blue fire wet cats fighting for your attention and affections. let the war begin

all he can do is watching over you through his floating ipad and silently seething. he would gritted his teeth whenever idia nui notices the ipad and gives you affections, and will explode in flames if the nui sends him a mocking grin, which is more likely than you think.

one time, idia finally manned up and actually smooched you, he had a blue screen moment and then he dipped.

you've never seen idia ran tf away so fast lmao.

spoilers: in the end you rewarded them both with cuddles and kisses so all was good ^-^

remember to reblog if you enjoy my works! ^-^

[pumpkinsy0]

I just saw your Tim Shepard and Ponyboy post and may I please add more? Like, Tim coming over to the Curtis house just as they're getting ready to leave, giving Darry a 'I'm here. I'll look out for the kid too.' look.

Tim Shepard following the Curtis in his car, debating on how he's going to get himself a long sentence should Ponyboy be tried as an adult for manslaughter and sent to prison like Dallas had been.

Tim Shepard knowing that's two steps beyond where Curly is at and if Ponyboy was being sent to the reform then it wouldn't be half as bad, he'd have a buddy, he'd be protected.

Tim standing behind Darry, giving soft kicks to his ankles in a 'I'm still here, nudge' especially when he sees Darry freeze.

The Shepard boys lined up against the walls watching the trial. They're waiting for Tim to give a simple nod to cause ruckus and get jailed so the kid won't be in the holding cell alone.

Tim who gives a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he had been holding in when Ponyboy is free to go. Who ruffles Pony's hair affectionately, joking even "Next Soc you kill come to me, Dally is shit at hiding things. Found his blades all around town."

Darry who rolls his eyes and says "He ain't gonna be in that situation no more." But smiles back at Tim. Tim can read Darry like a book. 'Thank you' the brawny brother says with wet eyes. Tim who gives a nod before heading back to his side of town.

Darry who works a little overtime one weekend, just enough to bail Curly out so he can be with his big brother.

Just brothers looking out for one another's kid brothers and each other.

eating this up,,,,anon ily,,,

IM ADDING ON MORE CAUSE U GAVE ME EVEN MORE IDEAS :3

when pony starts talking about being drowned, tim tries comforting darry and soda in small ways, maybe like w a small pat on the shoulder and just leaving it there

before pony was supposed to go up on the stand and they were all getting ready at the house, tim came over and gave pony small tips on how to stay calm (hes been in that position quite a bit after all)

right before he goes home, he has to tell curly about the outcome of the trial, he told curly about when the trial was and knew curly wouldnt be able to sleep well if he didnt know whag was going on, he always said pony was a good kid after all

even tim and his gang had to bust out their sunday clothes so they could look good, and he told them if it was ever the time to b on their best behavior, it was today, darry doesnt deserve to worry about a ruckus being caused while his life could literally fall apart right here lmao

after the court, maybe tim joked w pony and said “how about we get that breakfast u asked me about a few days ago”(cause remember when tim was just at these niggas couch and just walked out😭) and he was one of the ppl that got pony to smile after that

gonna b honest w u, he prolly thought pony was SO fucked, so when he heard that “not guilty” verdict, he immediately looked over at darry and pat him hard as hell on the back, he was happy as hell

for a few weeks after everything, tim had some of his guys secretly looking out for pony, he knows that some socs were def upset that pony didnt get convicted and would try to hurt him

maybe tim taught pony some of his moves so he can defend himself better too, its only small moves thoigh, he knows darry wouldnt take pony learning how to full on fight like tim so kindly

tim knows darry doesnt rlly see eye to eye w curly and he gets it, but when theyre both just at the bar talking about their family, they both know how important their family is to each other and god knows in their life that family is rlly all u have, so theyd do anything to help out the other

i hate the outsiders tv show, but i love that they established that tim would look out for pony, tim and ponys relationship,,,i could talk about it 4eva,,

[bleekay]

anyone who cares about the me hating my room layout saga........come along w me...... no img descriptions im so sorry..... i can only describe these images as "2d bedroom/office poorly laid out in various ways"

sorry im using inches not cm. so here is my room's current layout:

it's a small room, less than 10'x11'. that window on the side is 6'x6' and the window sill sticks out 2 inches from the wall, and it starts 1 foot up from the floor. im using my desk as a bedside table rn. why do i want to rearrange this? why does it kill me that this is what i'm stuck with?

SICK OF MY MOM DOING THIS SHIT. just silently standing in my doorway whenever she walks past my room and i have something interesting to her on my screen. she wont even announce she's there, she just stands there. one time i was watching some stupid funny video and i found out she was behind me because she LAUGHED and it scared the shit out of me. yes i have talked to her about it. yes she knows i don't like it. she says she "doesn't do it on purpose" just sometimes she'll walk past and see something on the screen and can't help but look. girl.

but like heres the thing... what if friends have drawn nice porn??? ideally let's not let my mom look at it. I want to draw porn??? lol, lmao even. imagine what i could make if i were free. no but fr even aside from that, just day to day, it'd be nice to feel like an adult and not a kid whose parent is looking over their shoulder all the time, even past the invasion of privacy issue, having my back to the door means im always on edge... so that is goal number 1.

("why dont you just close your door?" dogs ok shut up)

(also wanted to say that step 1 in preventing my mom from just Doing That was to get a door curtain, which i have now, but it does not change my desire to move my desk. it isnt enough.)

goal number 2 is giving the dogs a pathway equal in flow to the current one. the dog seat next to my chair is 26 inches high, so the dogs can only get there from the bed, not the floor. you can see right now, it's easy peasy for them, step up, bed, seat. that blue circle is where i initially put the dog seat, and it was lower at the time so the dogs could reach it from the floor. alas, katze hated it on that side even though it was easier for me to get out of my chair when it was on the left of me instead of the right.

ok, so we've got the two big goals. desk against right-side wall. easy layout for dogs.

i need you to know i've tried a lot of different layouts ok. i am showing you a FRACTION of the attempts. a fraction!!!! i tried a layout with my bed at a 45 degree angle, don't "have you tried--" me

the left side wont work bc the dresser and bed overlap by 2 inches and it simply won't fit. the right one solved that problem. but both of these have two other problems: 1, dogs falling into window gap lol -- easily solvable, i'll just fill in the window with pillows or something -- and 2, i have to choose whether to give the dogs a step over to their seat or to have a bedside table. can't have both. and i need a bedside table so the dog seat would have to go on the other side with a step up, which would block me in. also unacceptable. both of these are out.

thats what led me to this layout, which i made a post about. so the dresser would work as a bedside table for me, the dogs have decent flow up the step, to the bed, over onto the dog seat. but ah. the space between the desk and the bed is about 20 inches. maybe a little less if the window sill pushes the bed out an inch or two from the wall. am trapped. probably difficult to get in and out. i am not teeny tiny.

and now we are here:

if i just scoot the desk down i have room to move, dogs still have flow, everything's good..... except. you see it right. just a. large gap in the corner. nothing there. surrounded by things that are all 2 feet high or taller. so, a pit really. but, ah, what's this????

a free table exactly the length and width of the gap, stopping any chance of the dogs falling down there and hurting themselves or being unable to get out???

wow, i can move my printer from on top of the dresser to on that table! i can put my mini shelves there which are currently sitting on my desk! i can maybe even set some little trinkets and doodads there!! ah, table that is perfectly sized for my corner pit and that i got totally for free and is in really good shape and not falling apart, wow you're so great! :)

is what i would say if i had a table that fit there and was free and worked well

[okaylorrainee]

her way of water

characters. neteyam & female reader. sully family. tsireya.

synopsis. neteyam and his family left their clan to seek uturu from yours. on their first night, neteyam wanders by the shore to clear his mind. he finds himself away from everyone’s marui pods and comes across you as you bathed - he couldn’t get you out of his mind since then.

contains. i can show you the world moment (you’ll understand later)

note.  i named neteyam’s ikran for him. sorry if you get tired of the word ‘smile’ here lmao everyone’s very happy in this chap. also, im gonna start shutting up about when the next chap is gonna come out, i never end up following what i say (sorry for scamming you all twice) enjoy !!

taglist. @rainbowsocks @mashiromochi @anm3mi @fanboyluvr @anxietydrogz @sakura-onesan @amortencjja @kaealowri @jkeluv @xxlaynaxx @mirikusashes @strangerdangerwrites @hafutoru @inluvwithneteyam

Ch 06 [ previous. masterlist . next ]

you took a few beads from the bowl next to you, placing them on the hair of the child you were braiding. beside you, the other children continued on weaving as they waited for their friend; you had finished braiding all of their hair earlier. 

today was just one of those simple days where you stayed in the village and spent time with the children. the elders you usually hunted with let you stay home for today so you could help out with the others. when you finished the chores that were assigned to you a few hours ago, you volunteered to watch over the warriors’ kids. the way you’ve piqued their interest with weaving and creating ornaments made them look forward to spending time with and learning from you. the children would always excitedly listen to you talk about your adventures while hunting. you loved being with them.

finishing the last braid, you leaned to the child with a satisfied smile and placed your palms on her shoulder. “it is finished. now, come. let me have a look.”

the child stood up and turned to face you, a bashful smile on her face. you patted her head. mayfe was always a shy one. “you look beautiful, dear. will you braid my hair too?”

her pointed ears perked, and she looked at you with anticipation. “you want me to? but i am not good. my friends are better.”

“that does not matter to me.” you tucked a strand of her braid behind her ear. “i want you to do it.”

she grinned happily. “okay! i will do my best.” then mayfe went behind you and quickly began to section your hair.

as she began to work on your braids, you, on the other hand, took the opportunity to focus on something else. 

since your trip with neteyam, you have been working on another ornament piece using the pearls you have obtained together. there were three, but you only used two of them. one for you, and one for him. you couldn’t decide on what to do with the third one yet. 

initially, you planned to create a neckpiece with the pearls you were going to bring home from that journey. but you changed your mind last minute and thought it would be great for both of you to get something from that trip; the ornaments serving as a memento. you had already finished yours yesterday and were wearing them right now. it came out beautifully, a forehead piece with the pearl in the middle. it emphasized your beauty even more, but not enough to take the attention away from your features.

your gift for neteyam was almost complete. with a few more twists and knots to secure the pearl on the cord, finally, you had finished your work. you lifted the accessory up to match your eye level, inspecting it with satisfaction. you hoped he’d like the present you made for him. you were planning to give it to him today.

“it is done!” mayfe exclaimed from behind you. 

you brought your hand up to touch your hair, and she hurried in front of you to take a better look. “i did my best. do you like it?”

“i feel beautiful, mayfe.” you pulled her in for a hug. “thank you!”

she giggled as she returned the embrace. “wait a moment, i will add one last thing.” she pulled away and scurried to her basket that was next to her friends, and you watched her curiously. mayfe came back with a small purple flower. with a large grin, she gently placed it on your hair near your ears, saying, “i found this flower while i was collecting fruit with sa’nok. i will give it to you because you braided my hair!”

“you are very sweet, mayfe. thank you.” you patted her head once again. the little girl flashes a bright smile at you before she hurried to sit next to her friends and join them to weave. 

as you stood up to stretch, two figures made their entrance in your marui. it was kiri and tuk, the latter with a beaming expression as she held her own set of beads. 

“we’re here! are we late?” tuk ran to you with excitement. the little sully had been telling you how she wanted to get to know the other children for a while now, so you thought it would be nice to invite them as well.

“not at all, tuk. come, sit.” you patted her head and gestured to where the other children were.

kiri followed behind tuk as the little girl sat next to the others, greeting them and looking at their work. “thank you for having us. i hope you don’t mind if i’ll be staying with tuk.”

“no, it is fine. do not worry about it. please, take a seat.” kiri gave you a small smile before sitting next to her sister.

“oh, by the way kiri, do you know where neteyam might be? i have something to give to him.” kiri’s eyes traveled down to the accessory you were holding, and you saw how the corner of her lips almost curled into a smirk.

“at this time of the day, i think he’s where our ikrans are staying. it’s his turn to feed them.” she replied with a nod.

“i see. would it be alright if i leave for a few minutes to see him?” 

“of course, go ahead.” she nodded. “i’ll take care of everything here.”

smiling, you replied, “thank you!” and then you hurried off to the furthest left of the island where the banshees were.

the ikrans were aerial predators many na’vi from the other clans bonded with to move through the skies. they were used for battle, for hunting from the air, and for traveling through long distances. they were quite foreign to you reef people because all you needed were in the water; there was no need to fly. the closest animal you had for flight was a skimwing, but even that could not fly high enough.

you had never seen an ikran before, and only when the sullys came did you first encounter one. of course, only from afar, you found them too terrifying for you to meet them face to face. you had this thought that they were aggressive, and you knew that the others in the village shared your sentiments.

but toruk makto and his family could not just abandon their animal companions to cater to the reef people. after all, they were from the forest before they came here. those ikrans are one of the only few things they had that could remind and bring them back to their clan someday. tonowari and his tsahik, ronal, were not cruel enough to exile those creatures. so, they were positioned at an area where no reef people visited often. 

the screeching of the ikrans became louder as you got closer. their wings came into view when they stretched, and already you knew they were overwhelmingly larger in person. a bead of sweat drops from your forehead from the sudden thump of fear you felt in your heart. but you were here now, it would be too late to walk away.

taking a few more steps, your eyes find neteyam feeding a green ikran that had yellow and brown stripes. he was wearing his complete flight gear, perhaps about to take the animal for a little flight trip because he hasn’t in a while. he didn't notice you getting closer, he was busy petting the animal.

“neteyam?” you called, stopping a few meters away from him. you were too scared to get closer.

his head snapped in your direction when you spoke. “oh, hey.” his eyes took you in - your braided hair and the purple flower on your ear; he thought you were so pretty. neteyam cleared his throat and pulled away from the ikran to approach you. “what are you doing here? is there something you need?” 

you gently smiled at him, looking up to face him and his tall height when he stood in front of you. “i have something for you.”

“really?” he asked, trying to suppress the grin that was about to outline his lips. “what is it?”

you carefully took his hand, and with your other, you revealed the accessory you made for him. “for the hand that saved me,” you tied the ornament on his wrist, and neteyam kept his eyes on you, his smile growing larger. “a bracelet with the pearl we obtained together.”

he took his time to admire your work. “it’s beautiful.” he said in a low voice as if he only intended to mutter to himself, but you heard him.

“do you like it?” 

“i do. i will wear it proudly.” neteyam answered with no hesitation. “thank you for this gift.”

“it is nothing.” you smiled again, satisfied with his response.

neteyam finds the pearl on your forehead, and unconsciously, his hand raises up to touch it. “you have made one for yourself as well? this means we are matching.”

you broke away from his eyes, looking at the ocean on your right. but even that couldn’t hide the blush forming on your cheeks. “i did not intend it to be that way so don’t think of it differently.”

he chuckled at your reaction. “alright, alright. but actually, i have something for you too. wait here.”

as soon as neteyam pulled away from you, he ran to where the ikrans were. you watched as he disappeared from your sight when he went behind a sleeping ikran. you couldn’t see what he was doing so you could only wait curiously.

neteyam came back jogging with a huge grin, and with his hand, he held a wooden spear that was decorated with leaves and colorful feathers. you stared at him in surprise.

“this spear is for you. i made it myself.” he presented proudly. “the feathers are from the birds i have hunted a few days ago. i hope it is to your liking.”

you took the spear from him, staring at it in awe. you were touched by his gesture. “oh, neteyam. i love it.” you sent him a grateful gaze. “i did not expect for you to do this.”

his hand traveled to his nape in slight embarrassment, and he looked down, “i remembered how your weapon was snapped in half from last time because of my incompetence.”

you covered your mouth as you giggled. “that is not true.”

a sudden screech from one of the ikrans interrupted your conversation. as both of you looked at its direction, neteyam was quick to hurry to its side. you hesitantly followed him, keeping an eye on the other ikrans that were close by. you almost forgot about them.

you watched silently as neteyam began to murmur to the same ikran he was feeding earlier. this led you to think that this particular one might be his.

“this is yok’o.” neteyam introduced as he continued to pet his companion. “she is my partner. i have been accompanying my parents on their missions with her since i came of age.”

your eyes shifted to the ikran, observing its wings, the saddle on its back, its legs - everything you could to comprehend it. “so ikrans are what your warriors use to fly.”

“yes.” neteyam nodded. “and your warriors use… ilus?” 

you shook your head. “no. skimwing.”

he looked at you, confused. “skimwing? why have i never seen you ride one?”

a melancholic smile finds its way on your face. “i… feel bad for my skimwing companion. i have hurt it.”

neteyam tilted his head. “how so?”

he watched as your eyes shifted to the ocean, looking at the waves that were creating the sounds around you as you tried to form the proper words to explain to him. “when we form tsaheylu with the animals, they feel what we feel mentally, physically, and emotionally, right? they share our emotions.” 

neteyam nodded, urging you to continue. 

“well, when my parents died, i was hit by sadness like no other. everytime i bonded with my companion, it would feel pain in its heart and suffer consequences.” you looked down, and you felt neteyam withdraw from his ikran to focus on you completely. “it is the reason why i have learned to hunt without the help of the animals before. it is the reason why i have learned to hold my breath for so long. i did not want to hurt any of them until i have healed. that is why i stayed by myself and did everything i could alone.”

he said nothing further, and just took your hands in his. neteyam’s action made you look at him. he ran his thumbs on your palms as a gesture to comfort you, then he said with a low voice, “i understand now. you have gone through a lot.” 

so, your talent for holding your breath wasn’t natural, he thought to himself. you had to go through such depression and carry it all by yourself to master it. neteyam had already commended you before, but the respect he felt for you now was deeper than any praise he has known. after all, neteyam knew it all too well to understand how hard it was to deal with everything on your own, especially if it’s about your feelings.

you shook your head with a playful smile to answer him, trying to lighten up the mood. “not as much as you did.”

neteyam didn’t reply and only continued to look at you, observing you in an attempt to review your mood.

“but i am better now.” you reassured him, giving his hands a gentle squeeze when you felt his stare. “i am slowly connecting with the animals again. one day, i will ride with my skimwing, and maybe soon you will too.” 

“yes, you are right.” he nodded. “i have to be recognized as a warrior here soon.” the worry in his face disappears upon hearing your tone. 

“and then, we can explore the ocean together.” the excitement in your voice builds up as you continue, “i will show you many beautiful things. you will love it, neteyam.”

“i like the sound of that.” he stared at you affectionately, adoring your enthusiasm and the way you spoke. “you love the ocean a lot, don’t you?” he felt it. from the way you looked at the water to how you connected with it. perhaps even your affairs every night at the opposite side of the village was a reason for it; neteyam was starting to get the idea.

“i do!” you exclaimed. “everytime i am out hunting or free diving with the others, i see everything. i feel free, and i am happy.”

free? a thought came into his head as he listened to you. his hand moved to caress your hair, you almost leaned to his touch. “i have an idea. are you willing to try it?”

tilting your head in curiosity, you asked, “what is it?”

“something that will help you see more of everything.”

still holding your hand, neteyam guided you to come closer to his ikran and you followed literally right behind him. it screeches again from the presence of a stranger, and neteyam felt you hesitate to get nearer. when he looked back, he saw the worry and fear in your expression. your grip tightened on his hand. “what’s wrong?” he asked.

“am i… really allowed to fly with her?” you glanced at the ikran who was moving its head to the side, trying to get a look at you.

“yes, of course. but do not look at her eyes.” neteyam grabbed yok’o’s chin to keep her steady. “you are not a rider yet. staring may provoke her.” immediately, you averted your eyes away from the animal. neteyam went back to you, “do you trust me to fly with you?”

you took a while to reply, “… i do.”

“good girl. wear this.” neteyam released your hand as he went to take off the riding visor that was resting on his forehead. you stood still as he wrapped its bands around your ears, careful not to ruin the purple flower that was on your hair.

neteyam murmured one final time to yok’o, telling her to keep steady. you swore you even heard him warn her not to scare you too much, but you didn’t comment on it anymore. when he finished, neteyam focused on you again, going behind you to help you get on his ikran. he placed his hands on your hips and counted to three before lifting you up. yok’o obeyed neteyam and kept steady; you got on her with no struggle.

neteyam followed after, climbing up quickly as if it was the easiest thing ever. his legs were right behind yours and he leaned to grab the rope that was in front of you, caging you with his arms. his body was so close to you that you could feel his warmth from behind, you tried not to get distracted.

“are you ready?” he asked as he continued to wrap the strap around his hands.

“i think so.” you hesitantly answered, viewing the ground and how far it was from your height right now. “if i fall and die, i will haunt you, neteyam.” you joked.

the man let out a laugh. “i thought you said you trusted me?” he released the rope with one hand and placed it on your waist, leaning closer to your ear from behind. “but do not worry. i will not let you fall.”

his breath tickled your ear that your face heated up from the sudden contact. you immediately turned away from him in embarrassment. just what is this man doing?!

neteyam didn’t say anything else, satisfied with your reaction. he grabbed his queue from behind him and formed the tsaheylu with his ikran. the animal shook itself from the connection. you couldn’t even react when yok’o sudenly flapped her wings open. before you knew it, she jumped at such a height and began to fly.

overwhelmed from the sudden movement, your hands raised to cover your face. thankfully, you prevented yourself from screaming. otherwise, it would’ve been embarrassing in front of neteyam.

you could feel how his arms and legs were caging you from both sides, as if they were there to help you remain in your place and keep you stable. for some reason, you felt safe between them. you liked it.

the breeze started making your hair fly that you lightly shivered. you felt yok’o steady from below you and it became easier for you to balance yourself as you sat on her. you decided to peep between your fingers, curious to what was happening; what you saw instantly took your breath away.

an audible gasp leaves your lips as your hands unconsciously relaxed unto yok’o’s skin. you took the view in with wide eyes, overwhelmed with its beauty. the vast ocean was meters below you, glistening from the rays of the sun that it was sparkling. the sky seemed bluer and brighter to you, if that was possible. and you found it amazing how high up you were that some birds were even flying with you. 

“neteyam, look!” you pointed excitedly to a group of ilus swimming in a circle, and neteyam shared a light chuckle with you. everything was smaller below you, you felt like you were on top. 

you were ecstatic at everything you saw because you had never seen them in such a point of view; always staring in front of them, never above them to appreciate them all as a whole. neteyam adored your reaction and he felt proud that he decided to do this for you. he was enjoying your enthusiasm for it all even if this kind of view wasn’t new to him.

“this is amazing. i have never experienced anything like this before.” you exclaimed with a large grin. “i can see everything, neteyam!” you opened your arms to welcome the wind, letting it hug you. 

neteyam laughed once more. “this is how we do it back in my clan. your excitement reminds me of the young ones who have tamed their ikrans and flied for the first time.”

relaxing back to your seat, you turned your head to look at him, “really?”

he nods. “yes.”

you stared at him as you pondered for a while, allowing yourself to ease on his chest. “neteyam, i have a question.”

from staring at the view in front of him, his eyes shift down to match yours. he hummed, “yes?”

“do you think that if i ever could, i would someday be able to fly like you as well? you know, if ever.” you shrugged as you looked down. 

a gentle smile didn’t hesitate to form on his lips when he listened to your question. “yes.” he answered with a steady gaze, observing your face from his view affectionately. oh, if you could only see how he looked at you. 

“and i think that you would also make a great member of my clan someday.” your eyes snapped back at him in confusion. neteyam smirked as he looked somewhere else to stir his ikran, “you know, if ever.”

©️ okaylorrainee 2023. please do not re-upload, translate my content anywhere without permission.

ch 06 [ previous . masterlist . next ]

[fatuismooches]

omg omg omg i’m brainrotting so hard abt arlecchino rn im so sorry if you’ve already been sent smtg similar but hear me out: childhood friends to lovers w the one and only knave <33

growing up w her in the house of the hearth, ur the only person she has a soft spot for <33 even when she began ascending the ranks of the fatui u know she’d always come back to you <33 i’m entering delulu land but im LICHERALLY going crazy over the idea that the reason arlie killed the previous knave was because they threatened you and she was not having that dgjskdjdjd im scratching clawing at the walls of my enclosure

BONUS: whenever u show up to fontaine’s hearth all the kids get very very excited bcos they’re going to be able to break SO many rules and arlie will mostly let it slide since she’s just so damn weak for you <33 all u hv to do is bat ur pretty lashes a little and she’s folding like a wet paper towel (“another story surely won’t hurt the children 🥺🥺 please?” “………fine”) one of the kids accidentally called you ‘mother’ once in front of her and her brain did a hard system reset for like 5 entire minutes LMFAO lyney is SO tempted to set up his idiot pining father with a special in-house magic show but lynette is a 100% sure arlecchino would straight up murder him if he tried (though she does agree with her brother in that father should just confess to you, because there’s no way you would ever say anything other than i love you too)

AHHMAKAONDW DW ANON I TOO AM BRAINROTTING HARD ABOUT ARLECCHINO AND I ADORE THIS HAHAHA CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS ONE OF MY FAV TROPES EVER 🤭 ooohhhh im words i cant describe rn…

Going to the House of Hearth and seeing shes always the quiet, solitary, speak to no one kid and your interest is piqued right away!! Yeah she ignores you for a while but you keep following after her so earnestly! On the missions, during playtime, during mealtime when she leaves to eat somewhere by herself but somehow you find her anyway… how can she not start to warm up to you? :( slowly but surely that cold mask of hers starts to melt just a tiny bit… you two are inseparable at that point, she refuses to work with anyone else <3 Arlie is… s-s-soft for you 🥺

AND UGHHHH her not forgetting about you even when she’s a higher-up, and a Harbinger 🤭 everyday, when she’s learning to adjust to her new duties, learning to deal with more incompetent people by the day… Arlie can just come back and rest her head on your shoulder and relax ❤️ (lmao regardless if it’s the former Knave or a random person they will be GONE hehe 😈😈)

AHHHH ANON THE BONUS IS MAKING ME GO CRAZYYY AJAIAIBDW I WOULD ADOPT THOSE BABIES IN A HEARTBEAT, THEY LITERALLY GET SO EXCITED BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS WHEN THEY HEAR THAT YOURE COMING!!! Help I would so be the parent who lets them break rules (within reason of course)!!! We can stay up past your bedtime!! Pillow fights and spooky stories and everything!! We can bake cookies together and playfully fight!! There are so much possibilities omg and Arlie is just like 🧍‍♀️yea there’s no way she would let this happen usually but,, sigh, the kids are literally beaming in happiness and crowding you and you’re laughing and smiling and looking so soft,, so fine, she’ll let it slide. But don’t expect her to join! (She’ll pop up around dinner time ❤️) (you *may* get her to join you for that one last story time, but it’s a very big *maybe*)

THE CHILDREN CALLING YOU MOTHER AHIAIVFW YESSS YESSS like bro you just give off motherly and parental energy to them, you are the parent they never had :( I always hc Arlie’s partner as being hella overprotective of their kids, like they are NOT getting hurt on your watch!! Making them separate meals if the regular food isn’t to their fancy, making sure their clothes don’t have holes in them, tucking them into bed and all :( Please the child would act as if they just said something normal and you’re just smiling really hard and blushing a lil bit and Arlecchino is just like 😐 outwardly but inside her heart is racing a bit ANISJAIAI. Like it just clicks for her that you’re really so wonderful… omfg she loves you so much.

And omg omg I would sooo love to be around baby Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, they deserve the whole WORLD… you would clap and be surprised when they come home and show you all the new tricks they learned… you’d be their willing member from the audience to join them!! And Freminet, he’s a shy baby so you would just read him stories and help him with the big words :( you’d help him find more mechanical stuff to play around with and fix! And although Arlie doesn’t like when kids cry… the kids love you because they can cry into your arms and you won’t tell a soul 🥺

HAHAHA LYNEY BEING HIS FATHER’S WINGMAN 😭😭 he would so do it but Lynette reminds him every time that his life would be FORFEIT if he ever tried doing such a thing! Lyney is still thinking about it though 🤔, even the younger kids have caught onto Father’s pining for you! Like bro… Arlie, it is so freaking obvious how much you two like each other just kiss already smh (the kids have bets on who will confess first 🤭)

[catholicdogxxx]

every single thought i had abt one piece live action

alvida is so hot im praying when she comes back she’ll have the slip slip fruit and still be fat please god.

introducing zoro with baroque works instead of with helmeppo was fucking genius, and mr 7’s redesign is pique. and the gore of zoro killing mr 7? sets a great fucking precedence.

binks brew playing in the background of the flash back where luffy eats his fruit >>>>>

i want a copy of nami’s book as merch

i love the little homage to the original of luffy planning to just fly in

having luffy be there for the scene with helmeppo and rika >>>>

ive said it once ill say it a thousand times how do they manage to make zoro even gayer. ill never get over the whimpering caption with helmeppo just crawling on the ground.

nami girlboss girlslaying even

zoro you cryptic little gay freak “then he owes me money” “didnt wanna make a mess”

im mad they didnt make captain morgan tell helmeppo he didnt beat him as a kid is bc he’s too pathetic to hit.

captain “we should be working for the same team” morgan. bro you are an elder fag preying on a young gay man. THE SHOULDER TOUCH???

roronoa “i kinda got my own thing going on” zoro

“7 days? i could catch up on my sleep”

“when i get down from here, you’ll be the one begging.” MY GOD YOU FAG

tag urself im the bead of sweat in zoros eyebrow

“get lost”

“i am.. lost”

“heyhey no. dont do that.”

my god nami’s actress is perfect the body language, tone of voice, its so accurate to how she was pre joining strawhats. and GOD her facial expressions in her first fight scene w luffy…

zoro almost dipping then deciding he wants to fight lmao i love it

“arent you that drunk from the bar?”

“glad i made an impression.”

morgan you didnt capture shit

inaki did a great job making luffy still look animated.

zoro cutting helmeppos hair is so fucking funny

garp knew exactly who it was when he first got that call

buggy youre sitting like SUCH a slut

buggy loves talking abt shanks like he’s an ex boyfriend

i wanna see what else buggy can do

zoro definitely had sex with cabaji and then killed his brother

i could watch yasopp shoot people all day

shanks casting is so well done im obsessed with the fact that none of the characters are the conventionally attractive roblox looking types

also the timing of luffy being drowned and the flashback to shanks saving him… timed perfectly great depiction of ptsd. same thing with zoros flashbacks.

“why gonna rob the place blind?”

“at least a little blurry”

i love the wlw mlm solidarity with nami and zoro, oh my god the scene of them getting dressed and nami picking out a shirt for him??? obsessed.

zoros pink ass drink

FUNKY BAR MIRROR BALL???

“arlonggg babyyyy”

“you dont think she like. like likes me do you?”

i love the way the meowmin twins move when theyre fighting in the stairwell

luffy grinning like a freak through kuros blades :333 and then the fucking thumbs up

luffys look to nami when kaya says they have a ship

damn they really just fucking murked merry

“they do know im the captain right?”

“let them have this one”

“we are” playing while they leave syrup village im obsessed

nami laughing for probably the first time in years at usopp and luffy fighting over who’s the captain

i could write an essay about the fear in garps eyes in that flashback (im going to)

“which way is port?”

“the left!”

“neverrrrrrr!”

“fine ya brat have it yer wae”

garp laughing bc he’s actually invested in his job again

the camera lense while luffy is smelling the baratie is fucking hilarious

“add food to the equation and suddenly he knows how to navigate”

ive said it once i’ll say it a thousand times inaki does a great fucking job making luffy still look animated

ill never get over sanji’s accent its so fucking fan indulgent

the little angry kick after he puts em on the fucking ground

“welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. my name is sanji what can i get for you?”

“any drinks one of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal?”

“apologies madam didnt see you there. would you care for an apéritif to start?”

sanji is such a freak oh my god i love him

zoro pointing it out is so fan indulgent

zoro grinning like an idiot when nami says “i need a drink”

im obsessed with usopps fishbowl

sanji’s smile talking about the all blue WAHHHH

i love live action sanji cooking

his fucking theme playing oh my god

zoro and nami comparing usopp to a sea slug

“i had friends”

“swords dont count”

“i had one friend”

“hell one more than i have”

zoro you fucking freak

why is he standing like that fucking fag

“because youre my friend you idiot” NAMI WAHHHHHHHH

zeff is so hot omfg

sanji’s desperate baby scream breaks my heart

i really like they went using with the original manga plotline for sanji’s backstory

“id eat both arms and legs to save zoros life”

putting buggy in the bag is so fucking funny

that zoom in on sanji yelling “zeff” what was that

god i love sanji and zeffs fight

zoro waking up scene is fucking adorable

zoro you fucking devoted freak i love you

ill never get over sanji’s theme

“the only thing i wanna hear from you is dinner specials”

baby nami is perfectly cast

BLACK NOJIKO BLACK NOJIKO

buggys body pinned up at arlongs base lmfao

“arlong has bled us dry”

“then find more blood”

i love helmeppo sitting like that lmao

bellemere’s death scene always makes me tear up jesus christ

“i thought itd take a lot more liquor to bring out your mutinous side.”

why was arlongs speech edited like that oh my god

“of course i will” makes me tear up every fucking time

nami drawing her maps in fucking blood is such great symbolism

“you look tired, maybe you should take a break”

“maybe you ought to get back in the kitchen”

“quit screwing around! luffy needs us!”

“you just got here you dont know what luffy needs.”

“i know he needs my cooking.”

“putting two slices of bread together?”

telling buggy to shut up in unison lmao

“im gonna get outta here.” while flipping them off

“fucking clown.”

USOPP EXPLODING STAR U GOAT

“i get it zeff was mean to you boohoo”

“you dont ever badmouth nami.”

“now youve done it.”

god i love taz skylar

“all great fighters call out there finishing moves”

“yeah youre gonna fit in just fine.”

SANJI WANTING TO HUG NAMI AND HER RUNNING PAST LMFAO

“back for seconds must have liked it.”

“at least i dont need 3 swords to prove im a man.”

garp jus beating the shit out of luffy

nami hitting nezumi >>>>>

god i fucking love nami talking at bellemeres grave

“i know what it means to fight for your family.”

luffy’s reaction to his bounty im in love

koby what was that gay ass look you want to kiss luffy so bad dont you

“be a good marine.”

“be a good pirate.”

luffy mimicking his poster

god i love makino

kaya with a different tea looking healthy 😭

luffy’s bounty up under employee of the month

BUGGY AND ALVIDA BUGGY AND ALVIDA BUGGY AND ALVIDA

god i love garp

helmeppo learning to be swordsman :33

“maybe the old chef was right. it id your turn.”

“i can still take you.” not in a fight…

their jolly roger 🥺🥺🥺

[phantomdecibel]

I havent named this either lmao whatever not my best work, but at least im done w it now lmao

uuuuuhhhhhhhhh yeah odys is dead here. definetly. poor lil ajax is left to pick up the pieces. ......here we go!

Ajax heard it second hand, at first. Of course he didn’t believe it – it seemed impossible! After ten years of war, after the cylcops, after grabbing Astyanax from the ashes of Troy. For his friends, for his crew, for his son. The Captain couldn’t be dead.

Because that was the rumor, circling the deck like crows over the battlefield. That Captain Odysseus was dead (the fuck?). No – not quite. That the Captain had been murdered, by none other than his second in command. Eurylochus (double fuck, there was no way). Or at the very least – that the man was hauling around his corpse (…at this point, Ajax was convinced he was being messed with).

It was absurd!

Ajax… well, he didn’t want to brag or anything but…

“You don’t know what you’re talking about – Eurylochus would never!” Ajax had been spending a lot of time around both the Captain and his second in command – mostly Eurylochus, admittedly – since departing from Troy for Ithaca. If there was one thing he knew for certain… “Him and Polites love the Captain; they’re his best friends. Plus – there’s no way the Captain’s dead. You’re just making shit up.”

“I saw it myself!” Elpenor exclaimed, throwing out his arms. The poor man looked to be on the verge of tears, with his glassy eyes and red, splotchy face. His outspread hands trembled, and that was the only reason Ajax hadn’t immediately decked him for even joking about something like that, consequences be damned. “When he saw me, he – he gave me this look and I booked it.”

“Then you can’t know for sure!” Ajax snapped back, leaping to his feet. “You didn’t even ask–”

“No, no –” someone else cut in. ajax turned his glare to them, but the newcomer wasn’t fazed. “I heard that too, from Perimedes this morning – he saw it too.”

“What – what about Polites?” Surely he wouldn’t stand for this – this slander!

“Perimedes said he was just watching, this morning,” the man Ajax now recognized as Demosthenes shrugged, wringing his hands. “Didn’t – didn’t seem concerned at all.”

“Then there you have it!” Ajax turned on his heel, stalking off towards the stairs. “If the Captain were dead, then Polites wouldn’t just be standing around!”

And neither would Eurylochus, for that matter, but his point still stood. Still… the jittering anxiety still lingered from just how serious everyone had been – and the rumor had to have been born from something. Ajax would go find Eurylochus, and he’d tell him that the Captain wasn’t dead, where did you even get such an absurd idea? and everything would be fine.

Yeah, yeah. That’s what he’d do.

Go find Eurylochus.

…only Eurylochus wasn’t below deck. He wasn’t by the bow of the ship, or by the Captain’s cabin. He wasn’t even on this ship, by the looks of it which was… odd, but – not concerning! The man probably just needed a change of scenery or something – understandable with all the bullshit going on here.

That still begged the question of where was he, though.

“Hey!”

From the ship across, Nikomachos leant over the railing towards him. “What’s up, kid?”

“Have you seen Eurylochus?” Ajax eyed the distance between the two ships critically. He could jump that, probably, if he needed to.

“Yeah, e’s over here,” the other man lowered his voice, shifting from side to side and glancing over his shoulder. Ajax frowned – that wasn’t a good sign. “But… y’don’t want to be over ‘ere, right now. It’s…”

But Ajax was already backing away, getting a running start to leap the distance and cling to the other ship’s railing. The other man cursed, loudly and desperately, and Ajax felt strong hands wrap around his arm to help drag him on board.

“Fucking Hades, kid!” Ajax winced at the loud voice in his ear, but scrambled upright and gently shook off the steadying hands on his shoulders. “What were you thinking–”

“Where was he?”

“–what?” the man spluttered at the interruption.

“Eurylochus. Where did you say he was?”

“Kid…”

“Whatever,” Ajax glanced around. Where should he look first? “Thank you for your help–”

Leaving Nikomachos behind, Ajax darted off. He could guess why he was being warned away from the second-in-command but… Ajax needed to know.

They were wrong, they were all wrong. They had to be.

 Eurylochus wasn’t difficult to find.

Everywhere he looked, Ajax saw clumps of people, huddled together with hushed whispers and wary glances over hunched shoulders. They clustered at the edges of the ship, presences less frequent the more he moved inward, and so Ajax followed the trail they left through fearful, lingering glances and shoulders turned inwards, away, until there were no more than a handful of cautious lurkers all circling the deck like the rumors in the air. Everyone else avoided the center of the deck like a disease, and that was how Ajax knew he was close. Each step closer landed against the wood of the deck like thunder, and each impact sent lightning down his spine.

This was ridiculous. Ridiculous! Why was he so afraid? There was nothing to be so nervous about; there was no way the Captain was dead. If he was – if he was then there was no way Polites and Eurylochus would be as calm as Demosthenes had said they’d been. They loved the man too much to not… sink the entire fleet with the force of their grief, if the Captain really was… gone. If the Captain were to die it would be in a blaze of gore and glory, not some quiet covered up–

“Ajax!” a cheerful voice broke him from his thoughts making him flinch in shock even as he relaxed, recognizing the voice. Ajax shook himself out and blinked until he could recognize the wood beneath his feet again, before looking up to see Polites making his way towards him, smiling kindly. “What are you doing here, my friend? Last I heard you weren’t on this ship.”

“I need to talk to Eurylochus,” Ajax admitted, glancing back down. “I heard a… concerning rumor.”

“A rumor?”

“Yeah,” Ajax glanced over his shoulder at where another soldier lurked in the shadows, letting the concern in the older man’s voice sooth his fears. “People are – people are saying that the Captain is – is dead and–”

“Oh that,” Polites interrupted, chuckling.

Not an outright denial. With the way he said it, Ajax wasn’t sure if it was reassuring or not, but followed dutifully as the man steered him forwards. “Eurylochus! Someone’s here to talk to you, my friend!”

“They finally worked up the courage, huh?” Eurylochus’s voice echoed back, in a tone that could almost be amused. Ajax took a couple steps away from Polites, towards the voice of his second-in-command.

“Sir?” he called out, wringing his hands. “I–”

Eurylochus appeared, padding down from the Bridge, face as passive and unimpressed as always. It would have been a comforting sight – Ajax had come to get to know the man a bit, since that night with little Astyanax – but this time, his voice stuttered to a halt in time with the man’s appearance. Because–

“Ah, Ajax,” but he couldn’t focus on anything but the fucking body draped across the other man’s shoulders. “What can I do for you?”

“I–” he stammered weakly, choking on his own voice. “What–?”

“Hmm?” Eurylochus just raised one thick eyebrow down at him, ignoring the way Ajax was sure he had begun to sweat and tremble.

“I – I heard the Captain was..?” Ajax trailed off, blinking desperately but unable to finish the sentence. How do you phrase a question like that, when the person you were talking to had a fucking body flung over their shoulders? And not just any body, but the body of the person you were asking about? Dam the gods, this couldn’t be happening. Ajax locked his knees, praying to every god he knew for the strength to stay standing.

“Oh, that. Don’t worry about it,” the towering man shrugged, and Ajax cringed back as he reached up to grab at the arm slung over his shoulder, to stop its owner from slipping.

Oh. Oh gods–

Oh gods.

“Wh– what–” Ajax cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the way the Captain’s head hung limply. “What happened?”

Polites laughed, and the noise echoed sharp and piercing behind the ringing in his ears. The grating, sudden noise made him flinch, but Ajax couldn’t tear his eyes from the Captain. Was the man breathing? Could he see him move? Was he imagining the stillness from where he could see the man’s back – or was there really nothing to look for?

“Are you alright, kid?” The question stretched blearily into the all-consuming silence, and he realized that whatever noise had been tearing at his head was gone, nothing more than an echo. Instead, now, everything was too quiet – yet the voice was much, much too loud, too sharp, too–

Ajax turned and ran.

He – he wasn’t really… aware, of running, not really. One moment, Eurylochus had been frowning down at him, and the next each pound of his feet against the deck jarred his knees, and he could barely see, and he could barely breath and he could barely hear and –

Ajax found himself near the front of the ship – curled into his knees and spine pressed against the railing.

Each fall of something wet striking rhythmically against his arm made him flinch, but the tears didn’t – wouldn’t – stop, not even when he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, scrubbed at them with his wrists.

“Breathe, Ajax,” he muttered to himself, forcing shaky breaths of air through his aching lungs. His ears were still ringing too much to really hear the words, but the way they rumbled in his chest soothed something that screamed in the back of his mind. He hummed, just to feel the way it reverberated in the back of his throat, on and off until he was breathing normally-enough again. Then, he forced a deep breath, tilting his head back to stare at the sky on the exhale.

It was… blue.

It was just, blue. Blue and bright, not a cloud in the sky, for as far as the eye could see. It was… surreal. Ajax didn’t know how to feel about it, if he could feel anything other than the all-encompassing numbness that had consumed him at some point during his flight.

It was too bright, that he knew. The Captain – Odysseus – was dead! Why hadn’t there been some sort of announcement, no, that would have just sparked panic but wasn’t there already panic? Everybody already knew not saying anything wasn’t helping this situation why hadn’t they had a funeral yet–

Ajax closed his eyes.

He forced himself to let go of his arms, let the blood rush back to them, stretched out his legs a bit, uncurling, still leant heavily against the rail. Wind and the occasional splash from a stray wave lashed at his back, and it was cold, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually get up and move.

He opened his eyes again, head still tilted back.

One thing at a time.

There should have been… clouds, or something. Rain, thunder. Nature – no Zeus himself should have been raging, grieving. Ajax should have been grieving.

Maybe he was, in some backwards way, but… truth be told, he just felt – blank. He was crying – but it was like he didn’t know why. The Captain was dead, but it didn’t feel real, like Odysseus would walk up any minute and ruffle his hair, ask him why so blue, kid? and drag him along with the man’s day until Ajax was laughing along with whatever trouble Polites and Eurylochus had started that day.

Polites and Eurylochus.

Gods – how were those two not in – in shock? They were the Captain’s best friends – Ajax would have thought they’d be tearing apart fucking Olympus for… however this had happened – unless…

Had… had they killed Odysseus..?

Sure – Ajax had heard that rumor, too, but–

No.

No.

That was something Ajax refused to believe. As… untouchable as he had always seemed… the Captain was just a man. A squishy, fragile human, just like the rest of them. The idea that Polites and Eurylochus could have had something to do with his death… that was just too unbelievable.

Ajax shook himself out.

His expression didn’t really change, and he couldn’t summon enough energy to pull himself together past climbing back to his feet, but determination still managed to worm its way under his skin. He would figure out what happened.

But first–

Captain Odysseus deserved a funeral.

______________________

Ajax knew he was hunched in on himself, but it was probably the look on his face that made people shrivel up when they saw him. Mostly everyone on this ship had seen Eurylochus and the Captain, knew the truth, but they must have still been… holding on to a sliver of hope, or something. Ajax was one of the closer people to the Captain and his inner circle and people knew it – if he was so… however he must have looked, then the rumor must have been true.

And it was.

“The Captain is dead,” he muttered at whoever had come to stand in front of him. Their hands froze before they could land on his shoulders, and Ajax slunk around their still form.

“What do we do?” someone – maybe multiple someones, but Ajax couldn’t muster up the energy to care who – asked quietly, and maybe a little desperately. A number of people turned towards Ajax, and he wanted to scream.

He was the youngest person here, for crying out loud, with the exception of Astyanax – oh fuck. Astyanax. Where was the kid, who was going to have to tell him–?

Ajax dragged a hand down his face. Leave it, don’t worry about it yet, there was nothing he could do for Astyanax right now. He could ask Polites where he was after…

“We need to… do something,” he muttered, voice muffled from where his face was pressed into his hand. Ajax let his hand drop back to his side, shaking himself out. People were looking to him right now, for whatever reason – he needed to be strong. For them. For Odysseus. “Give… give him a funeral, or something–”

“That’s a good idea,” a hand landed on his shoulder, and Ajax flinched. He didn’t recognize the voice – or maybe he did. Mostly he just… didn’t care. The hand slipped away, and Ajax glanced back at its owner. The man tried his best to smile at him, but – it fell flat. Ajax grimaced back weakly. “The Captain – the Captain is – was – a good man. If anyone deserves a proper funeral out here… it’d be him.”

Ajax nodded gratefully, shoulders dropping. He scrubbed his hands down his face again, trying to focus on the conversation fading in and out around him. Someone might have run off, off to gods knew where. Ajax watched them leave for a moment, before turning his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“We’ll… have to figure out how to get his…” the man Ajax had just been speaking to was saying. He glanced back towards Ajax, who caught his gaze with a dead-eyed stare. “…how to get his body. If we want to give him a funeral.”

“I’ll handle it,” Ajax volunteered. He didn’t want to be part of this conversation anymore. It was beginning to feel too real, beginning to chip away at his mask of numbness, and he… needed to talk to Eurylochus again, anyways. Polites, too – about Astyanax – if he could find the man again. “I can handle it.”

“…are you sure–”

But Ajax was already pushing past them. He – he needed to be doing something, not just, not just standing around. He needed to find Eurylochus again.

…maybe ‘find’ was the wrong word – he already knew where the second-in-command (…was he the new Captain now? Was that how it worked?) was, probably, but the sentiment was the same, and Ajax wasn’t exactly feeling poetic. He hadn’t left the ship, he didn’t think, so Eurylochus was probably still near the bridge.

While Ajax had expected the man to be… close to where he’d last seen him, Eurylochus looked like he hadn’t moved at all. That might have something to do with Polites, who was gesturing widely as Ajax slunk back towards the two of them. Ajax lingered off to the side, forcefully sorting through his scrambled thoughts, as Eurylochus frowned at whatever the other man was saying.

Neither of them had noticed Ajax yet – thank the gods, he had no clue what he was going to say – but the second-in-command kept glancing off, like he was looking for something. Ajax pointedly kept his gaze on the deck near their feet.

Ugh.

Might as well get this over with.

Ajax crept forwards.

He couldn’t resist looking up as he approached, the worried tone of the older men’s voices drawing his attention from the deck. Whatever they where discussing must have been important – the Captain, maybe? What else was there to talk about? – because neither notice as he slunk forward, until he was left fidgeting a pace or two away from their huddle.

“Um,” Ajax muttered, tugging at the hem of his chiton. Polites and Eurylochus whirled towards him, both men relaxing as they realized it was just him. Ajax flinched slightly at the sudden movement, but Eurylochus was already talking before he could continue.

“Hey kid, you alright?” the large man tilted his head down at him, and Ajax glued his gaze back to the floor when it caught on the Captain’s limp form. “You kinda ran off, there.”

For a moment, Ajax didn’t respond. He pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth, cycling words through his tired mind to think up the right thing to say.

“We’re planning a funeral,” he finally settled on muttering, half-surprising himself at the flatness of his voice. The two pairs of feet in his line of sight shuffled back.

“Funeral?” That was Polites this time – tone soft and gentle and oh so confused as if he had no fucking clue as he took a step closer–

“Yeah. Funeral. For – for the Captain.”

Ajax’s head shot up as a strange noise reached his ears, brows furrowing as he frowned. Polites had a hand clamped over his mouth as he glanced off to the side, practically shaking.

What? Had they not known? That was impossible; Ajax had told Polites why he was looking for Eurylochus and the other man might as well be wearing the Captain’s body like a cape!

He turned from Polites – who was resolutely refusing to meet Ajax’s eyes, shaking more and more by the minute – to Eurylochus. The second-in-command was shaking too, albeit less so than Polites, but when Ajax squared his shoulders and built the courage to glance up at the taller man’s face…

Eurylochus wasn’t looking at him, either, but… was he–

“Are you smiling?” Ajax exclaimed, squaring his feet as he bristled. Wait– “Are you laughing?”

Polites made a noise like a dying whale.

What. The fuck?

…it really did sound like the man was trying not to laugh.

“Are – are you seriously laughing right now?!?” Ajax swiveled on his heels, glaring between the two of them. Their friend, their Captain, was dead, and they were laughing?

Apparently so – as if Ajax hadn’t seen them drag the man kicking and screaming to bed, as if Odysseus didn’t trust them so explicitly with his own safety and the safety of the crew, as if Ajax hadn’t seen Eurylochus take watch shifts for the both of them if they were tired, as if Polites hadn’t near-fatally wounded a cyclops because the other two were in danger, as if they hadn’t gone to war together, as if they weren’t the only reason the Captain had survived said war and vice versa. Ajax curled his hands into shaking fists, nails digging stinging cuts into the palms of his hands – as if it all meant nothing. Eurylochus shook harder. On his shoulder the Captain twitched, jostled by the man’s laughter, and Ajax watched, seething, as Eurylochus’s hand shot up again at the last second to drag the body securely back to its place.

“I–”

“Mwr?”

What–

…With a confused noise akin to something you’d expect after poking a sleeping cat, Captain Odysseus lifted his head.

The angle was terribly awkward with the way he was thrown over Eurylochus’s shoulder… but–

…

…

…

“Did – did you guys seriously think he was dead? Seriously?” Polites howled, bent over by the force of his laughter. Ajax spluttered, unable to deny just how absurd the concept sounded when put like that. Odysseus blinked blearily at the two of them. “I – I thought you were joking–”

How–

“I–” Ajax gaped. Closed his eyes. Took a moment to breathe in and bury his face in his hands – and turned on his heel. “I need a nap.” And also a minute to cry. And something to punch.

Make that two minutes to cry. Maybe three, even.

And definitely that nap.

…on his way back to his original ship, Ajax made sure to let everyone he came across know; the Captain was not, actually dead. Just didn’t know what fucking beds were, apparently, and enjoyed the crew’s fucking suffering.

…

…next time the Captain’s friends needed something he was going to shove them overboard.

 Bonus scene uwu:

“Let me get this straight,” Glancing between his two snickering menaces, Odysseus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The vast majority of the crew somehow came to the conclusion that you’d killed me. and you both let them?”

Polites snickered unabashedly while Eurylochus avoided his gaze (though he was still smiling – bastards, the both of them). “I mean… it was pretty funny.”

“Plus, the kid ran off before we could actually say anything.”

Odysseus buried his head in his hands.

“Would anything either of you had to say have actually helped the situation.”

It’s not a question, and his friends don’t answer as if it were one. Polites snickered again, when Odysseus peeked up at him in despair through his fingers, and Eurylochus patted him on the head.

“…at least you had a good nap?”

Odysseus sighed, loud and heavy. Unfortunately, he did have a good nap.

 *euryl is just carrying him around bc odys fell asleep on a ship that’s not the one w his cabin lol, let the poor man r e s t– *TECHNICALLY visibility should be very good across these ships. They are boats. But just… pretend they’re constantly blanketed by Magical Fog or something whenever I need a character to actually search for someone else and it’s convenient for me uwu * return of the elpenor- *n o t happy w this one, but oh well. Didn’t wanna work on it any longer lmao

Shitty doodle :3 euryls gotta carry around his dumbasses lmao

They’re cats now–

…this? one?

I like the perspective even tho it’s not the best lol

AAANNND my favourite :D

This is wear that one poli doodle came from lmao–

OH AND thanks wiki for the extra names bc only like 4 ppl out of odys whole fucking crew are actually named w h y-

OKAY SO

B A S I C A L L Y

@ghosty-crow (once again he was a huge help for this, so thanks!!! :D) and I Decided that since euryl is the tallest of the trio, odys n poli will just fucking climb onto his shoulders whenever they need to see better or dont want to walk or r tired lmao, they’ll just walk up to him and climb onto his shoulders and fall the fuck asleep and thus it has concumsed my single braincell ever since uwu

the first time the crew sees this happen, after fighting the cyclops, they think odys is fucking dead bc none of them have any braincells whatsoever :p

this results in ajax... not having a great time. logically he knows that its really fuckin unlikely that odys is dead but he’s also an anxious lil bean and unfortuanetly the panic won out

I have any things to say abt this. unfortuanetly i cannot remember any of them in this moment.

[phoenixfangs]

tagged by @rizaposting HOLDING UR HAND AND PRESSING MY FOREHEAD AGAINST UR SHOULDER i never get tagged in these so this is fun huehue

are you named after anyone? not technically, ive asked my parents multiple times about How they came up with me and my siblings names, but they just. didnt think very hard about it. fjkdlsjfdlas. but in a way im named after my mom, because me and saturns given names start with the same letter as our moms; my younger siblings names start with the same letter as our dads. i guess me and saturn could also be named for one of my dads uncles?? our names mixed make that uncles name. but idk im not willing to believe my dad cares that much about Anyone in his family to honor their memory through our names lawl

when was the last time you cried? i think the other day watching atla, when zuko and iroh reunite before the final battle. zuko trying to stumble through an apology and thinking iroh must hate him, but iroh just without even saying anything grabbing zuko and pulling him into a tight and tearful hug... man ;_;

do you have kids? HELL NO!!!!! im barely halfway through my 20s i should be at the club. dont want kids, never wanted kids, will never want kids. i will tolerate being my nieces and nephews cool auncle when my siblings start having kids of their own, and No More, thanks

do you use sarcasm a lot? i guess so?? its hard to gauge. i feel like most of the time i speak sincerely, but i will also throw in the occasional sarcastic quip. shrugs

what sports do you play? i dont play any sports anymore, but up until high school i played softball. i was pretty good i think! pitcher and second base. also in middle/high school i was a baton twirler for band and i guess dance competitions (i have Never thought of it as 'dance' but i guess technically i was dancing... blegh), and im gonna count that as a sport. any activity with the possibility and probability of being hit on the head by a metal rod counts as a sport to me

what’s the first thing you notice about people? probably their height. most people are taller than me but i will make an immediate note of people who are Shorter than me

what’s your eye color? grrrreen gray? i spent a few minutes staring at my eyes trying to figure out the color but all i did was strain my eyes jfldks

scary movies or happy endings? hmmmmmm i love both. i like blood and gore and guts and evil, but i also like heartwarming fluff where everything works out. i cant decide!! it just depends on my mood hehe

any special talents? i hesitate to claim i have perfect pitch because it sounds self congratulatory, but im pretty sure i have perfect pitch lmao. i cant Identify notes by name but i can recreate pretty much any note i hear, as long as its in my range. im not a good singer though lawl i dont have the technique. in the same vein, i can recreate other noises i hear pretty well, like i taught myself how to do the perry the platypus clicking sound Thing he does just by listening to it

where were you born? texas born and raised! everyone i knew growing up was a redneck or a 'cowboy church' christian

what are your hobbies? drawing, writing fanfic oneshots or rps with friends, bideo games, rewatching the same handful of tv shows and letsplays and video essays over and over again

do you have any pets? my son, my sweet bubby, apollo :> my stupid little man, hes gonna be 3 this year i think! flame point siamese kitty, dumb as rocks, currently i think hes burrowed in the sheets on my bed taking a nappy

how tall are you? 5'2", but add a couple inches because i almost exclusively wear shoes that add height, like my Big Dyke Boots i wear every day hehe

favorite subject in school? any of my electives probably, like art and music/band. in college my favorite classes i ever took were film appreciation, screenwriting, and theatre directing (which i signed up for thinking it was film directing, but it was still so fun and interesting)

dream job? honestly?? i think anything on the set of a movie or tv show would be awesome. maybe creative consultant, so that i can interject my own ideas into other peoples projects. i tend to feel my most creative when im working Around other peoples ideas tbh. all that, or lead writer/director on my own tv show/movie/video game, if i ever feel like i can handle that pressure

GET TAGGED @applescabs @lizardyeast @cottagegay and anyone else that sees and wants to participate :>

[harry-styles-obsessed]

THIS GIF MY NIGHT MY NIGHT MY NIGHT WEMBLEY N3 GODS I LOVE HIM AJDIEOEOOE

My baby fever has returned. This is why I’m writing this. Im chronically online LMAO. My bad. But this is absolutely fucking adorable MY HEART.

Synopsis: After a long shift at work you come home to something absolutely adorable.

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

Baby fever

You had just finished your work. You worked as a full time doctor within the care of the NHS. Sometimes you had shitty days and sometimes you had lovely days but this day had just been incredibly shitty. It had just been one of those days… one of those dreadfully slow and painful days. You never liked to bring home what had happened at the hospital as you didn’t like your 5 year old daughter hearing any of it, sure you and Harry sometimes talked because communication was best after all but you hated even having to talk quietly… you didn’t want sweet little Loulabelle hearing about anything horrible. The little girl had a vivid and wild imagination and came up with the craziest of dreams and nightmares that you and Harry were often shocked she, someone so young, could see… so vividly.

You slowly opened the front door, eyes tired and dreary. Lou should’ve been in bed by now. Sometimes Harry let her have later nights on Fridays which today was Friday but sometimes she was so overtired that he just put her to bed immediately yet you were quite surprised when you heard the gentle strums of guitar. A small smile immediately formed on your lips… maybe he was practicing? And so you slowly walked to the living room the sight before you immediately warming your heart. Harry sat on the sofa, Lou sat on her little purple beanbag a plastic lidded cup with hot chocolate in it as she stared at her daddy with big loving eyes. Yet it only got cuter from then on, the strumming becoming familiar the little girl bouncing up and down excitedly “you gonna sing Lou?” His voice was soft as he gazed at her with loving eyes, giving her daddy a toothy grin as she nodded her head desperately.

“You’ve got a friend in me… you’ve got a friend in me… daddy! When the road looks rough ahead and your miles and miles from your nice warm bed you just remember what your old pal said daddy, you’ve got a friend in me!” The little girl sang with wide happy eyes, hands clutching at the plastic cup her happiness obvious as she continued singing with wide happy eyes, her words sweet and loud before she pointed at Harry showing she didn’t want to sing anymore “daddy you sing! You sing!” The small girl yelled, Harry unable to stop smiling agreed- fingers continuing to strum the guitar gently and slowly “nice and loudly daddy!” The girl yelled and he chuckled nodding his head softly “okay baby okay…” he licked over his lips preparing himself before looking into her big green eyes a lot of love etched onto his face giving his shoulders a little wiggle the girl bursting into fits of giggles as she kept her eyes on him, taking big gulps of her hot chocolate:

“You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got troubles and I got em to. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. We stick together and we see it through cause you’ve got a friend in me! Some other folks might be a little smarter than I am big and strong too. Maybe but none of them will love you the way I do… it’s me and you, girl… and as the years go by our friendship will never die. You’re gonna see it’s our destiny… you’ve got a friend in me…” you watched your eyes stinging with tears your lower lip trembling as you stared at him. The love of your life… so good with kids. It was heartbreakingly adorable. Soon you joined them “you’ve got a friend in me…” you sang out the little girl immediately squealing “mummy!!! Mummy!! Daddy look it’s mummy!” Lou ran up to wrap her small arms around you and you quickly lifted her up into your embrace. “Oh what pretty singing you have young lady” you spoke smiling Harry soon pressing a kiss to your cheek silently asking how you are, his arm wrapping around your waist gently

“Mummy sing me a song!!” “No little girl it’s your bedtime. I’ve already sang that song to you ten times” a soft laugh left your lips, before you said goodnight to the child, Harry taking her up and putting her to bed before he came back down, arms wrapping around you immediately as he held you close to his body looking down at you with loving eyes “good day?” He asked softly the look in your eyes saying it all “it’s better now that I’m with you and Lou.” You spoke quietly his eyes softening “I think that is a good means for cuddles and take out… what do you think?” He raised his brows and you smiled nodding your head “and cuddles with you?” “Of course.” He then pressed a soft kiss to your lips eyes full of adoration and love…. That evening full of nothing but love and care… he spent his evening taking care and loving for you… there truly was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. The love of his life.

[jophiares]

So I found this around, can I ask for Suzaku/ Lelouch?

♥ Send a ship and I'll give you who:

- Gives nose/forehead kisses

- Gets jealous the most

- Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

- Takes care of on sick days

- Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

- Gives unprompted massages

- Drives/rides shotgun

- Brings the other lunch at work

- Has the better parental relationship

- Tries to start role-playing in bed

- Embarrassingly drunk dancer

- Still cries watching Titanic

- Firmly believes in couples costumes

- Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

- Makes the other eat breakfast

- Remembers anniversaries

- Brings up having kids

you know i initially read this and was like 'im not doing that.' but then i looked over the prompts and ill give it a short go. speedrun.

*to everyone reading this. do Not expect to be able to get me to write smth just by sending an ask

- Gives nose/forehead kisses

definitely suzaku. however, lelouch especially loves goodbye and goodnight kisses.

- Gets jealous the most

lelouch LMAO my evidence is: code geass episodes 1-50

- Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

i dont see lelouch being much of a bar person, but he def has a lower tolerance than suzaku. he'll see suzaku and start crying or smth. suzaku does the same thing to lelouch when he's drunk tho haha.

- Takes care of on sick days

lelouch is the caretaker ever. he's incredibly doting. suzaku is good too but no one is lelouch's level.

- Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

suzaku would want lelouch to get some exercise in and get some sun. lelouch ends up just short of drowning (horrible stamina to swim) and with a sunburn. suzaku apologizes by rubbing aloe vera on him

- Gives unprompted massages

suzaku strikes me as the more physically affectionate of the two, esp when it comes to his hands. lelouch is usually sitting at a desk doing fuck all anyway, so suzaku's strongest adversaries are the knots in lelouch's shoulders.

- Drives/rides shotgun

they can both drive, but suzaku likes it more than lelouch does so he tends to drive more. suzaku sometimes jokes abt being his chauffeur

- Brings the other lunch at work

lelouch would not let suzaku leave the house w/o his lunch. sometimes suzaku takes his lunch break to get smth lelouch asked him to get for dinner later.

- Has the better parental relationship

girl lmfao

- Tries to start role-playing in bed

i think they're both pretty good at it/into it. not an every night thing. lelouch is the better actor by far, but suzaku is nothing if not determined.

- Embarrassingly drunk dancer

suzaku would do the robot except hed call it the lancelot or something. might even try to get lelouch to join him to do a move he calls the shinkiro. (lelouch only joins when theyre at home alone. otherwise he just watches him w the most gooey romantic look anyone has ever seen.)

- Still cries watching Titanic

lelouch, easy. he's full on sobbing while suzaku laughs at him a bit. suzaku tears up a little too tho.

- Firmly believes in couples costumes

suzaku. he pesters lelouch into making an updated version of the cat outfits they had. lelouch grumbles and complains but he has a lot of fun regardless.

- Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

lelouch doesnt believe that this rule should apply to himself because he loves shelling out for those he loves, but hes always incredulous when suzaku shells out. long story short, they both break the rule.

- Makes the other eat breakfast

lelouch will force suzaku to be late to make sure he has his most important meal of the day

- Remembers anniversaries

they both do! anniversaries are very important to the two of them

- Brings up having kids

suzaku would. lelouch had been thinking abt it for the same amount of time as suzaku has, but hes kind of shy abt it lol. theyd def have to talk a lot about breaking cycles!