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skyahri · 5 months ago

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And Suddenly |JJK Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: Cult Leader!Geto, Heian Era!Sukuna, Canon Gojo. A little smutty, but nothing specific.

Masterlist Ko-fi

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Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna swears he doesn't play favorites.

He always gives the same response when prompted by Uraume- that he hated everyone equally and that if anything, they were the only person he could tolerate. That specific line of questioning always riled him up, oftentimes making him irrationally angry and defensive.

Despite what he says, everyone on the estate knows he's full of shit. No one else is dumb enough to call him on it out of fear of being brutally murdered, but it's clear he does have a favorite. That fact is only further cemented when he approaches you in the middle of the garden and publicly demands that you give him a child.

"... what?"

"Are you deaf? I need an heir and you're going to give me one. Let's go."

Just like that, you're being slung over his shoulder and carried off. You only manage a peak at Uraume before the door closes, but even they seem surprised by the sudden declaration.

When you finally reach his chambers, he sets you down on his bed and drops his robes to the floor. When you don't move to do the same, he shoots you an impatient look, but you only offer him a confused one back.

"My Lord, I apologize if this is out of line, but what brought this on?"

"I want an heir."

"Yes, but why now? And why me?"

"Are you denying me, woman?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I'm just- this is all very sudden."

After the initial spark of anger that flashes through him, he does genuinely think about it for a moment. Requesting a baby was quite the ask, and it would be in his best interest to keep you happy. Perhaps he could at the very least answer your questions...

"You are fertile."

"Is that really the only requirement you look for when considering the potential mother of your children?"

"Of course not."

He hates that little look you give him. It's pointed in a way that makes his nerves flair. It's not direct enough for him to ever call you on, but it screams defiance nonetheless.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You should feel honored to have been chosen. Be grateful, brat."

Your face doesn't change. You only cross your arms and wait for his little tantrum to pass in hopes that he'll be a more willing participant in the conversation.

"What do you want from me?"

"Honesty, My Lord. That's all."

He bares his teeth at you. It's an empty threat- that much you learned long ago. You're well aware of his soft spot for you, and while you typically don't use that against him, you really did just want answers.

In the three years you'd served him, he had never once mentioned wanting children. He'd go as far as to kill any concubine who fell pregnant or even brought the topic up. Something was most definitely amiss, and you weren't one to cave into his ridiculous demands so easily.

After a momentary standoff, he sighs and stands a bit straighter in front of you.

"You are well aware why I have chosen you."

"Am I?"

Oh, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under already. He seems almost... embarrassed? It's not something you've ever seen on him, the red tint to his cheeks and ears are undeniably different from when he's angry. His lower right hand twitches ever so slightly and you can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.

"It is possible, that I may not entirely hate you."

"Careful, My Lord, that almost sounds like a confession."

"If that is what it takes for you to agree, then so be it."

You won't get anything more out of him, at least, not today. You'd been fully expecting him to choose an easy way out, something about biology or hierarchy or whatever, but this? No, this was a thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.

"Now, as to why, My Lord?"

"Is it really so surprising to want a child with you?"

You... don't know how to answer that. His response both does and does not answer your question. You were initially looking for something more, concrete? Something like him needing a successor or maybe needing to prove himself in some way.

Whether he intended to or not, he had given you a very intimate response that you were not in the last bit prepared for.

You were very aware that he treated you differently, not just from the other concubines, but from everyone in general. You had certain privileges that others did not, like joining him for dinners and baths or sleeping in his chambers. He indulges you with little acts of affection, things like kissing and brief touches. You spoke out of turn without consequence and could get away with doing things without his explicit permission.

But all of that was a whole Hell of a lot different than wanting a family. The man would sooner die than admit to liking you, but here he was admitting to wanting children with you. Not wanting an heir, not allowing you the privilege, no- wanting children with you.

"I accept."

"You say that as if you had a choice."

"We're alone, My Lord, there's no need for the tough guy facade."

"It's not a facade. Don't forget I can kill you, woman."

"Mhm, if you say so, My Lord."

Satoru Gojo

"You know,"

He slowly slides his hands up your sides, slipping them underneath the hem of your shirt.

"With the kids being so busy nowadays, I can't help but feel like our nest is a little empty."

He moves his head from its resting position on your head to trail kisses down your face. He pauses at your lips for a moment before continuing down your neck.

"Lucky for us, I know just the thing to fix such a problem."

You're only half paying mind to the attention he's giving you, the majority of your thoughts running over his recent behavior, trying to piece together anything that could've prepared you for the current situation.

He was a little upset when Tsumiki had gone full swing into high school last year. She had lots of friends, joined a few extracurriculars, and took her classes seriously. It didn't leave her much free time for family. You understood, and so did Satoru (albeit reluctantly), but that didn't make it any less bittersweet.

With the new school year starting, Megumi had begun drifting as well, and it didn't help that he was living on campus now. Of course, Satoru was one of his mentors, but that only meant their time together was spent working.

Both kids had always been independent, most likely a side effect of their shitty unconventional upbringing, but it seemed time was only making that fact more apparent.

You'd noticed he'd been a little deflated lately, but you'd chalked it up to extra stress from the council. You never thought it would be over something like this- not that you doubted how much he loved his pseudo-family or anything, he's just never shown any particular interest in expanding at all.

Even now, aside from a few stray comments about missing the kids and prioritizing family dinners, nothing he did really popped out.

"Satoru-"

He pulled away and took your hands in his, bending down a bit to make the height difference less obvious.

"Just hear me out,"

He swallowed hard and squeezed your hands a bit tighter.

"I know it's not something we've really talked about, but I can't stop thinking about it. I love raising kids with you and I don't want it to end."

"Babies and toddlers are a lot different than kids, Satoru."

"I know."

"It's a lot of work. We'd be starting over just as they've become self sufficient."

"I know."

"There's also significant risk associated with having Satoru Gojo's biological baby."

"All the reason to work harder."

Usually, when he wants something, he gives you this sappy, wide eyed, puppy dog stare and tries to bargain wit you. This, however, is starkly different. His gaze is intense, like he's peering straight into your soul, but it's also desperate, like he wants you to say yes but for once in his life, he's not going to pressure you.

Not that he'd have to, honestly.

He's right. You have enjoyed raising kids with him. He's dorky and definitely on the irresponsible side, but he cares for Tsumiki and Megs more than anything else in the world. He'd take them to the park, engage in whatever board games they wanted to play, and always did his best to make it to school events. He's a good dad, and you aren't eager to see the end of the peak quite yet.

The house is also very quiet as of late. There's no bickering, no loud music, and no one pestering you to make snacks. There's no more homework to help out with and no more rides to give. It's rather lonely.

So you put on your best poker face, just to spook him a bit, and focus your gaze on his pretty blue eyes. He looks hopeful. He knows you well enough by now to know you're going to say yes, but that little bit of fear overshadows any certainty he has.

"I think, maybe, possibly, that our family doesn't quite feel complete just yet, and might have room for one more."

That's all the confirmation he needs before he's scooping you up, pressing sloppy kisses against any surface of your skin he can reach, and taking you straight into your shared bedroom.

Suguru Geto

He had truly never thought about the prospect of having kids before. He was seventeen when he took in the twins and life had been pretty hectic since then, not leaving much room for additional personal affairs.

But he couldn't get the girls' words out of his head.

They'd come home from school last week and told him about one of their classmates who had just received a baby brother. He wasn't sure if they knew the scope of what they were asking when they started begging for a little sibling, but it did get him thinking. So he told them he'd consider the idea and sent them off to do their homework.

He wasn't... completely against the idea. He's at a point where he has the means to provide for one more. He loves Nanako and Mimiko more than anything and he's sure he can love another kid all the same, but that wasn't the issue.

It was having another kid that was difficult. He'd essentially kidnapped the twins, and while the deed was justified, he wasn't eager to do it again. Anything formal was off the table, being a mass murderer slash cult leader, and all.

That's when you entered his field of vision. Like an answer to his prayers, you walked past him with a bright smile on your face and a quick 'Good morning Geto-sama' before running off to wherever the girls currently were.

The answer seemed a bit too obvious. You'd joined not too long after he'd taken over, offering support in any way you could. At the time, he was having a hard time adjusting to everything. Raising children was a lot harder than he'd anticipated, mostly due to the trauma they'd endured. You took some of the load off of him. You watched them while he was in meetings, cooked them meals, and made sure they got to and from school when he couldn't.

You're around his age, smart and pretty, and essentially already a mother to his kids. You loved them as much as he did, so surely, you'd be more than happy to help him out with this, right?

"You... want me to give you a baby?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that response. It was ambiguous, and your blank expression didn't lean any one way the other.

"Yes. Nanako and Mimiko would like a sibling, and I've decided to indulge them. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Geto-sama."

"I'd hope not."

Your confusion only grew. There was no precursor to this conversation. Just yesterday you were discussing the week's itinerary and what all was expected of you. He hadn't looked at you any differently, hadn't dropped any hints, or asked any strange questions. This was truly out of the blue.

You must've taken too long to continue the conversation because there's suddenly a hand grabbing yours. It's warm and rough, and despite the newness of it, it's grounding.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes. I'd like an honest answer. This will only work if both parties are consenting."

You hesitate for a moment. It's not like you haven't thought about it before. Not this specifically, but being more of a permanent fixture in Geto household. It's usually a fleeting feeling, a fantasy of sorts. You'd never allowed yourself to mull over it, assuming that it was a lost cause.

"Why me?"

A perfectly reasonable question.

"You're already a mother to my children, what's one more, hm?"

"And this baby..."

"Would be ours, if you're willing if course."

Suguru is actually pleased by your hesitation. A fair number of his followers would jump at the invitation without much thought. He finds it rather pathetic that some would follow him so blindly, so your reluctance only further cements his confidence in his decision.

"And what would all of this mean for me?"

"I suppose you'd be a wife of sorts. 'Nanny' seems a little degrading for someone bearing my child."

He laughs and it immediately cuts through any tension in the air.

While the offer is certainly jarring, denying it had yet to cross your mind. Geto is a harsh leader, sure, but he's incredibly kind to those close to him, and that extends to you. He's a great dad and loves his children, and you're sure any baby of yours would meet the same fate.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Why don't you meet me in my quarters after you put the girls to bed."

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guided-by-stars · 6 months ago

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Siffrin deals with his anxieties (both rational and irrational) by performing rituals and compulsions. These rituals can become obsessive, especially in times of heightened stress, and often focus around either checking things, or numbers. They also deal with intrusive thoughts, with such frequency and intensity that it impacts their ability to function. Those...are all symptoms of OCD.

Let's define some terms, before we go into examples. What are obsessions in this context? This often refers to obsessive thoughts/anxieties/mindsets. These are prevalent, reoccurring, sometimes disturbing, often irrational fears. Intrusive thoughts are one example of this, though not all obsessions are intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts are specifically unwanted and very distressing and often graphic thoughts or images in one's mind. An example of such is this:

Next, are compulsions and rituals. Compulsions are actions that one takes to break the obsession spiral. These either soothe the root fear (though usually temporarily), or quiet the disturbing thought or image. Rituals are "safe" compulsions, decided as such either by repetition or irrational logic. The wording that Siffrin uses when questioned about obsessive checking of pillars is as follows:

One of the most common mental justifications for compulsions is "But what if?". The perceived cost of performing a compulsion is often weighed as nothing against the potential of something truly awful happening. "What if?" carries a lot of weight for people dealing with OCD- often one knows that both the fears and the compulsions are irrational and logically one cannot control the Universe by tapping a certain amount of times on a table, checking for the tenth time if your alarm was set, or repeating a phrase multiple times in your mind. However, the weight of the potential fear is just so great that one cannot take the chance, even knowing that. This paradoxical position of both awareness and delusion that many with OCD have is called "OCD with insight" (1)

This post became....much longer than I planned, so the rest will be under the cut. Please read the rest though!!! There's so much more to it! ☆

The diagnostic criteria for OCD in the ICD (2) and the DSM (3) are relatively similar (though the DSM focuses a lot more on ruling out other causes for similar behavior like anxiety disorders and delusional disorders), and focus on the obsessions being self-sustaining and the rituals being often time consuming and frustrating to have to do. However, not all compulsions are even notable enough to the person to cause any frustration or discomfort, nor are all of them consciously done with any sort of logic behind them. It's quite common for people to perform compulsions without even having a reasoning for why (4).

Hey, weren't we talking about Siffrin ISAT? What's with all this research paper bullshit? Can't you just show me where in the game my blorbo shows signs of mental disorders???!?

Well, one example of rituals that Siffrin engages in is repeating phrases, either out loud or in their head. The number they tend to come back to, again and again, is three. This is shown when they are explaining Wish Craft, and despite the fact that the specific number of repetitions of your wish genuinely doesn't matter, just that it's repeated at all, they instinctively say to repeat your wish three times, before catching themselves and correcting their error.

...When Loop explains their Wish to Siffrin, they say it three times as well. "I wished it could be over. I wished I could get out of here. I wished for someone to help me."

Whenever Siffrin wants something to go right, throughout the game, he also almost always repeats his desired outcome three times.

It's a noticeable enough habit that his party members mention it, when in the trap room. They've noticed the ritualistic mumbling that he does whenever he wants something to go right.

It's not just when they want something to go right that they're doing it though. They repeat things three times when they're panicking, too, to calm themselves down. When they loop back after beating the king:

It's not even just thinking or saying things either, they take actions in threes too, to soothe themselves. After Kingquest:

You can see both thinking things in threes and acting in threes here. It's everywhere. If you look through the game again, you won't be able to help but notice how often they do things in threes.

Speaking of the coughing though, that's another one of the compulsions they do. Covering their mouth, coughing, gagging, they do all of those when trying to banish disturbing memories or thoughts from their mind.

After looping when refusing to try to say the name of their country when the King asks.

Notice again, they repeat "You know" three times. Like I said, you'll start seeing that EVERYWHERE now.

To note, if you try to say it once and try not to say it another time, you'll get this instead:

Three breaths, here.

I could go on, but I don't think I need to.

Another important factor when considering OCD is the need for control. People with OCD not only report a lower level of perceived control over their thoughts and actions, and not only tend to need a higher level of control than the average person to feel safe and comfortable, but also, the less control over their environment they have, the more that OCD symptoms often intensify. (5)

Siffrin is in a paradoxical position here, in regards to control. When they first realize they're in a timeloop, they're absolutely ESTATIC. The first bathroom break monologue exemplifies exactly WHY he's so euphoric at this point:

He's euphoric with CONTROL. No matter what happens, he can always try again. He's safe. He can keep everyone he loves safe. He has SO MUCH CONTROL.

When the illusion shatters, after he's dragged back when they beat the king, that's when he realizes how little control he actually has. Sure, he can decide when he loops (most of the time) but he can't decide to STOP looping. He's trapped. The more he tries to escape, the less control he seems to have (Eg, what happens to Bonnie). After that, we can see him start to have intrusive thoughts, engage in more ritualistic behavior, and end up in more unhealthy anxiety spirals.

...And, we see him lean into the little control he DOES have (looping) more. Any time he's in a stressful situation? Any time that the control he has over a situation starts slipping away? Is Bonnie yelling at him with tears in their eyes and telling him to die? Is Isabeau pulling away from their shaking grip on his collar? Is Odile confronting him on his suspicious behavior? Are things OUT OF CONTROL? ...Control is taken back. Forcefully. He can't handle loosing more control, not when he already feels so helpless and trapped.

Talking about the bathroom scenes, there's another one I want to point out. The first Friendquest run. It's the perfect example of delusional anxieties and compulsions used to quiet the distressing thought, rather than soothe them.

...Yeah.

Siffrin is suddenly overcome with the anxiety that the simple act of believing that his plan could work will somehow make it not come true anymore. This is an example of "magical thinking", or a belief that defies the scientific or culturally accepted laws of causality (eg. "If I step on a crack, my mother's back will break"). It's specifically an example of TAF, or "Thought-action fusion", which is the belief that one's mere thoughts can cause completely unrelated actions to happen in the real world. This is an essential part of how compulsions can genuinely relieve anxiety, and is actually one of the differences between those with other anxiety disorders and those with OCD. Magical thinking is essential to OCD. (6)

This exchange also showcases an example of how compulsions done to quiet rather than to soothe can sometimes involve self harming behaviors to "shake" the thought out of one's mind. In this case, him hitting his own head and focusing on the pain rather than on the thought. Most definitely not a healthy way to deal with it! But what else do we expect from Siffrin, honestly.

Another example of a self-harming compulsion being used to "shake" out a distressing and unwanted thought, also including a more minor example of magical thinking:

Researchers and psychologists have often attempted to divide OCD into subtypes. This has usually been done because different types of obsessions often demand different treatment plans. (7) The actual divisions have varied from researcher to researcher, but one type that consistently comes up, is harm OCD/moral OCD. (Of note, one person usually, but not always, fits into multiple subtypes. I personally think Siffrin fits into multiple) Harm OCD is characterized by a fixation on believing one is a bad person and causing harm to others, often despite others expressing the contrary. This often comes along with very intense self-criticism and judgement.

After repeating a Friendquest route multiple times:

Mal Du Pays fight:

Siffrin specifically is fixated on the worry that the knowledge that they gained by looping gives them an unfair power dynamic with their party, and taking any action informed by that knowledge means that they're taking advantage of them or forcing them to do what he wants. This is despite the fact that, no matter what he chooses to do, they are still autonomous beings who do what they want. He has less control than he thinks.

Also from the Mal Du Pays fight:

("You should've died for me. You should've died to protect me. You should've died to protect me.", "You can wish and wish and wish all you want.", "They'll forget you. They'll forget you. They'll forget you.")

And what of Loop? They're also a Siffrin, right? Examination of the self from an outside perspective has given them time to introspect a bit more. They directly name and point out one of Siffrin's rituals. @dormont pointed this out, in one of his posts. (8)

Loop says, here:

They understand why Siffrin is doing this. Siffrin is afraid that he'll forget again. There was no warning, before the Island vanished from everyone's mind. The coin is a physical reminder that he forgot his first family, that he can't forget this one too. He often rolls it in his pocket, but sometimes grips it tightly, or flips it. In his mind, touching it will prevent him from forgetting again.

Now this is fascinating when thinking about One Hat, because in that eventuality Siffrin, after failing to find Loop at the Favor Tree, leaves his coin where Loop used to sit. This shows that he's doing better mentally, in Act 6. That he trusts himself more to remember, that he doesn't need the coin anymore.

Throughout the game, Loop keeps the comedy mask glued tight to their starry face. Because of that (and the fact that we don't see inside of their head), we don't get to see much of their own obsessions or compulsions. But there is one time where their mask slips. During Two Hats.

When they start becoming more and more distressed, they fall back into repetitions of three:

And if they win the fight....

And after the fight...

But of course, it's not all in distress. What was I saying, at the start of the post? The other reason why Siffrin repeats things in threes? When he wants something to go right, right? When he has a desired outcome, when he's sharpening his knife, when he's carving a figure. "Please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp."? At the end of it all, as Loop is fading away:

"I'll see you again soon, I promise! I super promise! I super duper promise!"

And Siffrin understands exactly the intention and desire that they pressed into that repetition. After Loop is completely gone, they mirror their actions.

("You flip it once, twice, three times.")

("You will see each other again.")

Additional resources:

1: Taylor, E. (2020). Discordant knowing: A puzzle about insight in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Mind & Language, 37(1), 73–93. https://doi.org/10.1111/mila.12301

(About the concept of insight in irrational cycles in OCD! Very interesting)

2: ICD 10: The complete official code set. Internet Archive. (2017).

(ICD 10, Account is needed to read the full thing)

3: American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.)

(DSM 5, for reference)

4: Starcevic, V., Berle, D., Brakoulias, V., Sammut, P., Moses, K., Milicevic, D., & Hannan, A. (2011). Functions of compulsions in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 45(6), 449–457. https://doi.org/10.3109/00048674.2011.567243

(Article about reasonings behind compulsions. Honestly I think a lot of the "other reasons" categorized here for compulsions are just...different manifestations of reducing anxiety. But it's still helpful to show how sometimes compulsions are done subconsciously)

5. Moulding, R., & Kyrios, M. (2007). Desire for control, sense of control and obsessive-compulsive symptoms. Cognitive Therapy and Research, 31(6), 759–772. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10608-006-9086-x

(Article around OCD and the need for control)

6. Kingdon, B. L., Egan, S. J., & Rees, C. S. (2011). The illusory beliefs inventory: A new measure of magical thinking and its relationship with obsessive compulsive disorder. Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy, 40(1), 39–53. https://doi.org/10.1017/s1352465811000245

(Article about magical thinking/TAF/history of the other studies done on the importance of them in OCD & creating a better framework to assess them)

(7) McKay, D., Abramowitz, J. S., Calamari, J. E., Kyrios, M., Radomsky, A., Sookman, D., Taylor, S., & Wilhelm, S. (2004). A critical evaluation of Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder subtypes: Symptoms versus mechanisms. Clinical Psychology Review, 24(3), 283–313. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2004.04.003

(Critical overview of the concept of OCD subtypes and what their purpose is)

(8)

(Eve's post :]. Check the replies for more elaboration!)

#isat #in stars and time #isat siffrin #isat loop #siffrin #isat spoilers #MAJOR spoilers !#soliloquy #long post

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pyrodolls · 1 year ago

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YANDERE! RE2 LEON KENNEDY X READER

WARNINGS: stalking, sub leon, ooc leon, slightly nsfw but not smut, leon is a creepy masochist, kidnapping, no use of y/n or name, gender neutral reader, not proofread bc it's 2 am for me rn

SUMMARY: you were never very close to leon, but you harbored some feelings for him. but your entire view on him changes when you get invited to his place and you find out how he truly feels about you...

A/N: remember when i used to be a havik account? good times. also it's been a hot minute since i played re2 so if it's ooc i apologize.

leon thought you looked so pretty in your sleep. you looked completely peaceful and unbothered. your bedsheets covered your entire body except for your ethereal face, which he could stare at all day. the moon provided a dim glow through your window, giving leon a clear view of your entire bedroom while you slept. sure it may be creepy or a bit stalker-ish of leon to watch you sleep, but he couldn't help it! you were just so irresistible. if only you knew how much he loved you, and how he was capable of protecting and providing for you. he has the potential to be the best boyfriend to you. but you didn't even know him that well, and he was fully aware of that fact. so that's why he suddenly got an idea while he watched you sleep that night. it was a brilliant idea. he could invite you to his place and gain your trust! leon didn't want to waste any time, so he would immediately ask you first thing in the morning.

when you woke up that morning, you got a call from leon a few minutes after you got out of bed.

"i know it's a bit early in the morning, i hope you weren't sleeping... if so, i'm really sorry. i mean, i didn't know when to call you because i didn't want to bother you but at the same time i just really wanted to ask you something." leon rambled.

"no worries, leon. you could never bother me. besides, i just got out of bed. this was so perfectly timed, it's almost as if you memorized my sleep schedule." you joked.

"oh, yeah, that's crazy. imagine that," leon chuckled nervously. "um, anyway, i was just thinking... would you like to come over to my place later? i just thought that we know each other a little bit, but i'd like to get to know you more, since i think you're pretty cool and stuff, so, uh, yeah..." he trailed off, waiting for an answer.

upon hearing his proposal, you lit up in excitement. you always thought he was cute and wanted to get to know him, but you were too nervous to make the first move. this was a great opportunity.

leon was nervously fiddling with his fingers as he waited for your response. the longer you took to respond, the more his anxiety grew. he could feel the sweat forming on his skin and his chest tighten. what if you weren't interested in him in that way? was he being too forward? were you too busy?

you took a deep breath before you finally responded, mustering up the courage to say something. "i'll visit in a couple hours. i'll see you then, leon." you responded quickly, hanging up the phone and getting ready to see him.

leon's heart almost jumped out of his chest when you finally responded. he dropped his phone and immediately got to work, cleaning his place and hiding the pictures of you sleeping and your old clothes in a box under his couch.

he worked very hard to tidy everything up, wanting it to be perfect for you. only the best for you.

when he finished cleaning, he sat on the floor in front of his door like a puppy waiting for its owner. he patiently waited for you to knock on the door and come in, even though it would be a couple more hours until you arrived.

after a few hours of leon not moving a single inch, you finally arrived. as soon as your knuckles grazed the door to knock, leon swung it open with superhuman speed.

"thanks for coming! i hope the weather wasn't too harsh on you." leon greeted, stepping aside to let you in. he didn't actually know if the weather was harsh or not, he just said the first thing that came to his mind to start a conversation with you.

"thanks... and uh, the weather isn't bad at all. it's just a bit windy." you responded, awkwardly standing by the door.

leon was trying his hardest to act calm, but his heart was racing and he could feel his palms getting sweatier and sweatier. you were standing right next to him! and you were alone together! he could've just died right then and there. instead of watching you through your window, you're right in front of him! instead of breaking into your house and stealing and sniffing your clothes, he can just smell you right by him! he was in heaven.

for a couple hours, you both spent time together by watching movies and chatting, getting to know each other more and more. leon even ordered dinner for you both, and somehow he got your favorite food, and he claimed it was just intuition. it didn't even feel like hours had passed, since you were both enjoying yourselves.

"so, uh, do you like this movie?" leon awkwardly spoke up, as you both sat on the couch in front of his tv. you simply smiled and nodded, too tired to respond. it was a random film that you weren't familiar with, and you watched it in silence next to him. you were both clearly tired after that long day, but leon didn't want you to leave just yet. so he started awkwardly starting new conversations or asking you questions, hoping to keep your attention on him. he loved the amount of attention you already gave him that day, and he was still giddy that you agreed to visit him in the first place. all he needs to stay happy is for you to look at him. but you were literally sitting on his couch and spending time with him, and it just made him so overwhelmed with joy. it gave him hope that you could work as a couple someday, and you would never know about his unorthodox antics to get to this point.

or at least that's what he thought.

at some point, leon excused himself to the restroom and left you boredly swinging your legs back and forth on the couch. but you felt your leg kick something hard underneath the couch. when you decided to investigate, you found a hidden box. curious as to why it was hidden, you decided to open it and look inside.

big mistake.

you found some old clothes and underwear that you thought you lost, pieces of your hair, various pictures of you sleeping, a few grocery lists and paperwork that you thought you threw away, and even pages ripped out of leon's journal describing his dark fantasies of you. some of it had some mysterious white stains on it. it was disgusting, and it made you sick to look through it. you thought leon was just a cute sweetheart, but it turned out he was a stalker and a creep. you were so shocked, that you didn't know what to do. should you run? call someone? but it was unsafe, because he clearly knew your address and a lot of your personal information. you had no idea what to do, so you stayed frozen in shock.

when leon returned, he saw the horrified look on your face and saw the box in your hands. his heart dropped. you knew his secret.

"shit. oh my god, uh, it's not what you think. i swear, i just, uh, fuck..." leon stammered, dropping down to his knees in shame.

"what the fuck is this? how long have you been stalking me, you fucking creep?" you yelled, standing over his shaking form.

"haah.. i... uh.." leon seemed to be breathing weirdly, and you weren't sure if it was out of anxiety or pleasure.

"and this," you picked up one of the pages from his journal and waved it in front of his face. "what the fuck is this? you are so fucked up... are you in love with me or something? or is it just some weird ass sexual obsession?"

"i.. i do love you! of course i do! this isn't how i wanted you to find out, but i really do love you! please don't take it the wrong way. i don't want to hurt you, i just want to be with you. i want to feel you and- and spend every waking moment of my life with you.. please don't hate me." leon begged, grasping onto your leg pathetically.

"you're sick in the head. and you're nothing but a pathetic stalker." you scoffed. all the trust and affection you had for him went out the window after you opened that box. there was no way he can get your trust back. hell, you were willing to cut contact with him and move to another country at that point.

"fuck... okay, maybe i am.. but, uh... shit." leon struggled to get his words out, as he felt aroused by your degradation. he never thought it would feel so good to have you yell at him. he could barely even speak, it just felt euphoric for you to scold him for his actions. you expected him to panic, but he seemed to have mixed feelings about the situation. he was still horrified that you discovered his dirty secret, but he had stars in his eyes the more you screamed at him.

"oh my god... you're a masochistic freak, huh? you like it when i yell at you? god, you're so fucked up." you spat, grabbing his collar and lifting him up to your level.

leon whimpered at the sudden contact, not responding to your degredation and simply squirming at your touch.

you sighed. "are you going to explain yourself? or are you just going to keep babbling nonsense?"

after getting no response, you dropped him and started to grab your things and leave.

"i.. i love you so much!" leon blurted out. "please don't leave! i promise, i can make it up to you! i'll do whatever you want! i can uh... i can provide for you! you won't have to lift a single finger for the rest of your life! and uh... i can cook and clean! sort of. i'll learn how to take care of you. i'll show you that i can be a good boyfriend if you let me! please, just love me! i did all these things for you and i promise i will stop if you want me to! please, don't leave."

leon stood in front of the door and desperately held you in place, not wanting to let you leave.

if you chose to stay, leon would be overjoyed. he would keep his promise and make it up to you, spending the rest of his life protecting you from harm and doing anything to keep you happy. your well-being is his number one priority, he'd make himself look like a fool if it meant getting a smile out of you. just let him love you. you don't need to give him anything in return!

if you chose to leave, leon would be a sobbing, sulking mess for about an hour or two before he decided on what to do. he still had all of your information. he knew pretty much everything about you. he would probably do something to force you into being with him, such as faking your death and kidnapping you. you have nobody else now. you have to be with leon now. he is the only one that still loves you and will keep you happy. even if you're mad at him now, he has hope that someday you will warm up to him and be willing to have a relationship with him. he'll wait patiently for that day to come.

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #re2 leon #yandere resident evil #yandere leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil 2 #yandere #sub yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #resident evil x reader #leon x reader

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tossawary · 2 months ago

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There has to be a term already for when stories accumulate this... "narrative debt" that they end up not paying back. When stories fail to stick the landing when it comes to character development or thematic development, a mismatch between what the beginning of the story apparently constructed and what the final scenes ultimately ended up being.

I want to compare it to "The Empty Mystery Box Problem", almost, where the story lays on twisty element after twisty element to pull you into some great mystery, only to ultimately reveal that the writers never had a cool explanation for any of this and were pretty much just jerking the audience around to keep them watching for as long as possible. It has a similar feeling of investing your attention, only to get nothing satisfying and to feel betrayed for caring.

There's a disconnect between author and audience. A sense that perhaps the author, who has their own visions in mind, is not even aware of what they ended up depicting in the execution. As an audience member, I do sometimes have to ask myself, "Was I just projecting my own arcs onto this while the author wanted to do something different? Am I upset just because I didn't get the resolution I anticipated?" And sometimes I come to the conclusion that, no, if the author always intended for the story what they claimed, then they did it badly, and the parts that I found resonant were definitely there, just... perhaps done accidentally and/or carelessly.

Like, let's say that there's some show that ends up depicting a protagonist who has substance abuse issues.

The show repeatedly shows the audience that the protagonist feels dependent on alcohol, we see lots of shots of them drinking, often at very inappropriate times. As the plot goes on, the show even appears to be showing us the consequences of this addiction, in that the character's relentless over-drinking apparently negatively affects their job performance, their love life, their relationships with friends and family. The character is miserable, perhaps even explicitly expresses some of their depressed feelings, and it seems obvious that taking a known depressant is a big part of this tangle. There may even be some looming threat that if the protagonist doesn't get this issue under control or get help, there will be even more serious consequences.

So, we've spent aaaaall of this screentime dwelling on this obvious character problem, but then... well, one way for the story to handle it poorly is to just not handle it. It's just never really addressed. A potentially great character arc about someone struggling with addiction just fizzles out because the plot climax takes up so much space that you think... maybe the writers... somehow forgot that they made unhealthy alcohol dependence an enormous part of the character's life? Maybe???

Like, there's not even a visual cue at the end that the character is now making an effort to tackle their addiction or something. There's not even a single line of dialogue in the epilogue to tell us that the protagonist went through rehab and they're sober now or something. What you may have read as a very serious problem just vanishes overnight. A story element that ate up aaaaall that screentime just never gets any satisfying resolution.

I'm not saying here that I need to see the story handhold a character through the rehabilitation process. It's not a requirement that all characters overcome their addiction by the end of the story. Sometimes, a story ends a little sadly, yeah, or is an outright tragedy. Sometimes, one problem is solved and another sticks around. I just think it's disorienting when I THOUGHT that the story was trying to actually say something about substance abuse, they spent all this fucking time showing us scenes that revolved around that element, and it turns out that the writers were like, "Oh, yeah, I guess! We weren't really thinking about that as a serious problem. We mostly just had the protagonist drinking all the time because it looked cool, and I guess that part ties in pretty well with how they were fucking up their life, actually, but we dropped it because we didn't think it was important."

The OTHER way for a story to handle an arc like this poorly is to do a total reversal at the end. The author is not only blissfully unaware that they have been telling a nuanced story about substance abuse until now, they don't even think that addiction is real. The ending yells really loudly: "Not ONLY is this character's drinking actually NOT a problem! It helps them save the day! And also every other character has been super mean to them about this; everyone else needs to grovel at the protagonist's feet and apologize for saying super mean things like, 'Don't you think it's inappropriate to show up drunk to a child's birthday party?' Because the WORLD would have ENDED if the badass protagonist hadn't been doing the objectively correct thing of being hammered all of the time."

At which point, the only thing to do is leave the show behind, because caring about it is a waste of time. But it's hard to stop thinking about it because the show paid all of this time... into a narrative element that felt SO obvious and crucial and like it was going somewhere... and it was an accident??? Like, the story was good when it was making all of these interesting promises, until the end came around and it turns out that it couldn't pay the bills and/or never had any intention of paying.

"The Empty Mystery Box Problem" except the box is wide open the entire fucking time and there's cool stuff in it, but the writers apparently aren't paying attention to the box or what they're putting in it!?!?!

#tossawary reading #tossawary watching #tossawary fandom #substance abuse #alcoholism #used as an example of badly executed narrative arcs #long post

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sleepymarimo · 1 year ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!

read cw! summary: when you tell your captain that you're suffering from some hyposensitivity, he knows just what to do! pairing: law x afab!reader cw: mdni, suspension bondage (shibari, specifically), sensory deprivation, overstimulation, some medical play?, oral (fem!recieving), fingering, use of a vibrator, squirting, vaginal sex, creampie, law is a lil pervy and mean for the suspension bondage, this is what i had in mind! image is of a clothed model demonstrating a specific tie, but still, proceed at your own risk! :) an: tee hee wc: 2k for kinktober '23!

he briefly remembers overhearing you talking with another crew mate, saying that you might have to see a doctor soon. you're complaining, sighing in the cutest way about how you swear you've lost all sensitivity... in rather intimate areas.

he knows. of course, he knows.

it didn't help that your quarters were next to his, your ragged breaths and hushed whines echoing against the thin metal walls of the polar tang. your endeavors in self-pleasure started normally, or at least he figured as much judging from what he heard.

the soft squelch of your fingers against your blankets, which you doubled up on in the hopes that your desperation would be muted. it wasn't, go figure, but he never minded.

most of the time, he'd be listening in, tattooed fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking himself to the rhythm of your cries.

but damn, you were persistent. nearly every damn night, you'd be at it. what would it take for you to be satisfied? to beg for mercy?

your fingers weren't enough, it seemed.

it wasn't long before he'd start hearing the steady buzz of a vibrator, hums growing louder as you increased the power every night.

what an insatiable little minx you were, he'd think to himself, more than content to fall asleep to the sound of your ever so frustrated huffs as you failed to reach that peak.

you needed more.

when he's sure you're alone on the deck one day, he makes his move. the surgeon figures that you wouldn't seek him out, too prideful and embarrassed to do so.

instead, he feigns casualness and does as any captain would do, standing beside you and nodding his head as a greeting before pretending to be interested in the clouds.

you're looking at the never ending horizon, lips set in a pout. he's aware that it was a long night for you. hell, he was awake and smirking at the sound of you trying and failing once again to get yourself to orgasm.

biting at the skin of your inner cheek, you cave. "uh, cap?" you start, trying to keep this as professional as possible even though your heart was going a million miles an hour in your chest. "i think i need a checkup for something, if that's alright."

hook, line, and sinker.

"that's fine." he replies coolly, focusing his attention toward you and keeping an apathetic, but interested expression. "and what's the problem?"

you thank the stars that you'd looked up the proper term, not quite wanting to say 'i can't fucking cum!' to your captain. "hyposensitivity." your answer is as firm, your cheeks hot.

after probing you with a few more specific questions (he just wanted to see you squirm and fumble for "appropriate" answers), he nods and assures you that there are a few ways to go about it.

"it's a bit unconventional." he admits as he brings up a potential solution to your problem, absentmindedly running his thumb over his kikoku's hilt. while his words may be spoken with a certain tact, his mind is already running rampant with ideas on how to make you writhe. "are you okay with that?"

as long as it'll fix my problem. you think, giving him a nod. "yeah, that's alright, cap. when can we start?"

unconventional is putting it lightly.

he somehow manages to convince you that, regardless of how peculiar it might seem, this will solve your problems.

your captain always did have a way of twisting his words around, able to read all of your cues and say just the right things to rope you in.

and this time, he really does rope you in.

the silky smooth bindings coiled around you are quite pleasant on your bare skin, you admit. what really gets you though, is the feeling of weightlessness as your body limply hangs in the air.

it takes a minute for you to fully relax against the ropes as you tell yourself that you wouldn't fall.

once you settle, your eyes focus on law, who stands across the room with his back to you as he prepares some other items. he'd managed to clear out the operating room, the blaring lights exposing every inch of you without mercy.

instinctively, your legs want to close, but you're not given the option to do so. "so, uh, how is this going to help again?"

"we're going to get your senses to hone in only on where it matters." he states, shoulders shrugging lightly under the yellow button up he's wearing. "that means shutting everything else out."

when he turns, your eyes immediately fall to the objects in his hands. a blindfold and some ear plugs?

you suppose that his logic makes sense... you've heard of people hearing better when they're in the dark or being able to fool their tastebuds by inhaling the scent of another food.

lost in thought, you swallow when your world suddenly goes black. he's gentle and careful with his movements, wanting to make sure that you wouldn't be able to see a sliver of light.

after briefly asking if you were ready, the ear plugs come next, fitting snuggly and effectively blocking out any sound.

the effects are almost immediate.

the cold air suddenly feels like its pricking your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck rising. you're a little on edge, your head idly turning from side to side in an attempt to ground yourself and sense where he is.

it doesn't help that you can't see him, your ears struggling to pick up the sound of his footsteps.

he just smirks, not having moved an inch. his hands are quick to undo the first few buttons on his shirt, before he lets out a sigh and decides to get started with your special little prescription.

with purposeful steps, he circles you like a shark. his fingers reach out every now and then, poking at your sides or running along your thighs. he uses it as a measure of sensitivity, to put you even more on edge.

admittedly, he also finds it amusing to see your head whip in the direction of his touches. or how you get goosebumps from where he strokes you.

settling by your bound legs, he takes a second to appreciate the view of your cunt all set and ready for him.

you flinch when you feel a gentle, cool puff of air against your clit. the subtle action has your cheeks growing hotter and you swallow down some nerves, anticipation brewing in your lower tummy.

his hand settles on one of your outer thighs, thumb tracing a steady pattern on the soft flesh in an attempt to quell your worries. judging by the light, slightly wobbly exhale you let out, he guesses that it works.

he repeats the action, blowing on your clit until your body adjusts enough to not flinch. good, now he can take it a bit further.

the doctor chuckles as he remembers how much you've stimulated yourself over these past few weeks. hell, from what he can see, you're not even wet yet.

the plugs in your ears have your heartbeat hammering inside the walls of your skull. you feel so exposed and bare before your captain, the thought alone enough to send a jolt run down your spine.

raising his free hand, law allows his knuckles to run along your clit. the quick jerk of your body is enough to make him smirk. still, he keeps a firm and consistent pressure.

he wants to build this up, to have you squirming for more.

it's a seemingly never ending cycle, the level of stimulation increasing after each 'round' of touches.

suspended, with your sight and hearing robbed from you, it's almost heavenly. your anxieties have long since subsided, your head focusing on nothing more than the soft buildup of pleasure that sets every one of your nerves alight.

the doctor hums in pure satisfaction when he runs his digits through your folds, only to find them completely soaked with your arousal.

he decides that he's done with the light touches and games.

you're mewling when you suddenly feel something warm and wet swirling around your clit, moving in a perfect and consistent figure eight pattern.

your back arches and your mouth falls open. it's unexpected, incredibly lewd and downright hot.

you don't even know how desperate you sound. "c-captian!"

your wriggling has you swaying lightly, rocking from where you're suspended. he's quick to hook his fingers around the rope, pulling your cunt closer to his greedy tongue and keeping you in place.

he makes sure to count, to time how long it takes for you to cum. it's a baseline, one that he intends to push lower and lower.

once you reach that high, he doesn't give you a second of rest.

his strong, tattooed fingers get added the mix. he gets you to cum with one finger, then two, then three. there's no mercy to be found in his movements, since he knows that it's for your own damn good.

it's what you wanted, right?

you lose track of how many orgasms he pulls out of you, each one more painfully pleasurable than the last.

now, his cock hammers into your throbbing and wet cunt. absolutely insatiable, you are. even after all he's given you, he marvels at how your demanding pussy grips him.

"greedy." he mumbles to himself, breaths heavy as he watches himself disappear into your aching heat over and over again. his tongue clicks when he feels you start to tense around him, sharp eyes flickering up towards your face as he hears you squeal.

you're practically sobbing, the blindfold damp with tears. "l-law! law! i can't!"

and when he finally tears it off of you, along with the ear plugs, you swear that it's too much.

the bright overhead bulbs seem blinding, the debauched sound of messy skin on skin pounding at your eardrums and having you feel so incredibly disoriented that you almost pass out right there.

"don't give me that." his steel eyes glint with satisfaction at the fucked out look on your face, the tears on your lashes and the small string of drool sliding down the corner your lips. it only makes him increase the pace and ferocity of his thrusts. "i know you can take more."

he looks absolutely radiant against the glaring white lights, the beams highlighting his figure as it towered over yours.

you're so mesmerized by him, but your sensitive ears are quick to pick up on the sound of a steady hum. it's low, the buzz bouncing off the walls.

when did he even have a chance to go into your room and grab your vibrator?

"wha..." you can't even finish your sentence, your eyes glossed over. you're so utterly fucked out, it's almost laughable.

he smirks, his reassuring words sounding nothing more than smug as he brings the toy closer to your clit. "just a last test to see if your sensitivity is back."

as soon the vibrator touches your clit, you cry out. your vision goes dark at the edges, each muscle in your bound form twitching from the overwhelming orgasm that crashes down on you. you coat his cock and navel with your juices, gushing around him with a choked sob.

"that's it. there we go..." law hisses, not wanting to show just how fucking good your convulsing walls felt around his cock. still, he lets out a groan when he presses his hips flush to yours and lets you milk him for every ounce he's worth.

drops of your mixed cum drip onto the floor, practically shining under the glow of the overhead lights.

he ends up having to help you out of your bindings and into some clothes, your pliant form still twitching every now and then from the aftershocks. the doctor takes good care of you, making sure to give his patient plenty of water and post-coital touches.

in the passing week, he laughs at the absence of sounds from your room. late at night, you don't even dare try and touch yourself. it's just too damn much.

then one day, as he passes by you in the metal halls of the submarine, he nods his head and gives you a smirk. "let me know when you're in need of another round of treatment."

taglist: @queen-of-elves, @who-the-hockeysticks, @sxhy-town, @flower-hua

#trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece smut

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thewulf · 10 months ago

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Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria

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spikesbunny · 5 months ago

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♥︎ SWEET TEA ♥︎

+ warnings: use of aphrodisiac, food play (tea is drugged), dom ruan mei, fingering, use of pet names (sweetheart, darling)

+ ft: ruan mei x gn reader

+ wc: 0.7k

+ @ficsforgaza kinktober: day 14 - aphrodisiacs/food play + ruan mei (m.list)

nsfw under cut, minors dni!!!

ruan mei was always tinkering with something. she loved testing out how plants caused reactions in people, especially those that could be considered aphrodisiacs.

but she never let you try them. she insisted that it was safer, just incase any severe side affects occurred. she would never hurt you.

but you wanted so desperately to try it, to see how it heightened the feeling. were your orgasms harder? were you easily aroused? more sensitive? did it affect your behaviorism?

and so, she finally decided to test it out. after all, it would be better to observe how one reacted, rather than just test on herself. she made sure you were comfortable being randomly dosed, as she didn't want you to be fully aware when taking it (after all, she must take precautions to now potentially skew her results!).

you could smell tea brewing, thinking nothing of the overly sweet smell. she probably made some sort of sweet tea with an artificial sweetener she designed, concern not even a thought in your mind.

after all, there was no point in questioning her, right? she normally made you tea, so it wasn't something unusual.

that was, until you drank it. the liquid was sweet, almost too sweet, and made you feel kinda fuzzy, almost like some twisted version of melatonin.

or so you thought, until you felt your skin burning, aching for your girlfriend. heat was pooling in your gut, a sudden need for release clouding your brain.

you try to ignore it, but the longer left unattended, the worse it gets. finally, you work up the courage to whimper out her name, her graceful figure now standing in the doorway.

"what's wrong, darling?" she coos, so sweetly. she knew exactly what was wrong - it was hard not to, your face was flushed.

"i- i need you," you whine, much to your disproval. you were crumbling, lust coursing through your veins at rapid speeds.

she hums, pulling the chair out to better access your legs. "yea, you want me? does my sweetheart need me?" her words had you melting, nodding eagerly as she works your bottoms down, pressing her fingers between your lips. "suck"

you take them into your mouth, looking down at her, framed so prettily between your legs as you work on her digits, coating them in saliva before she withdraws them.

she eyes your pretty hole, kissing your thighs as she complements you, showering you with "so pretty"s and "my darling looks so ready f' me already", circling her fingers teasingly.

with a free hand, she jots down her observations onto a notepad. "warm skin, sensitive to the touch, extra whiny, trying to rut against the air..." she list off, still tracing around your hole. you whine, trying to get her to already sink them in.

"paitience, dear" she hums, before finally dipping one finger in, curling up to massage your walls. you whine, squirming from barely any stimulation, watching her write down notes.

it was insane to you, how composed she was, as if you weren't feeling your orgasm already creep up onto you.

ruan mei continues her jotting, now adding a second finger, peaking up to observe your face. "red, flushed, lips are bit raw, maybe some tears from overstimulation? all plays into sensitivity..." she whispers, still writing down notes.

her words were so arousing for no reason at all, clenching around the two digits she was leisurely pumping in and out of you.

"there it is, sweetheart" she coos, jotting down notes while muttering "clenching at two fingers" under her breath.

you can barely take it anymore, especially when she breaks her usually distant demeanor, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. "you're doing so good, love, this aphrodisiac really did the trick on you."

that was it, your orgasm crashing over you at her words of praise. she gives you a small smile, continuing to press her fingers into you as you ride it out, before withdrawing.

she writes down two final notes, muttering as per usual - "came after praise" and "was such a good subject."

she sets the pad aside, rising from her position between your legs.

"i'm assuming that wasn't enough, i believe i put too much into your cup... how about we continue this in the bedroom? my observations are done."

you nod, following her graceful figure out of the room. you couldn't deny, being ruan mei's test subject sometimes wasn't so bad.

#manga cap: @stepghost #vinnie.mp4 #vinnie.events #ffg kinktober #fics for gaza #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr x you #honkai star rail #ruan mei #ruan mei smut #ruan mei x you #ruan mei x reader #hsr fanfic #hsr

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merriepy · 6 months ago

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EMPTY HEART

•. Leon S. Kennedy x gn!reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

cw: /

summary: After not seeing Leon - your boyfriend - in over a month, you start to re-evaluate your relationship with him

a/n: I took so long to finish that one, I'm so sorry; no third person pronouns used for the reader; no specific Leon mentioned but written with his re4r-version in mind + reader is < 30

words: 2,7k

The apartment always seemed so very empty when he wasn't around. So very quiet. So very lifeless.

Him potentially dying was the only thing in your mind when he wasn't by your side. Maybe the uncertainty made these thoughts so unbearable. You knew nothing about him, and he was your partner. The word fiancé had only crossed your mind ever so slightly whenever he laid next to you in bed, which wasn't very often since he was out most of the time.

He worked for the government. That's the only concrete thing you knew. The rest was what you had pieced together via reading classified information he left laying around in the apartment (he wasn't the most organized kind of guy) and through the very limited amount of things he told you. In moments of weakness.

Leon hadn't been home in over a month. Fighting bioweapons. Or something. You didn't know what it specifically meant but it definitely sounded dangerous. And it was. While he wouldn't return visibly wounded, you would always new soft scars on his already wounded skin, telling the story of who he was and what his life had turned him into. He would leave on short notice and just return one day without ever contacting you during his leave. You've gotten used to waking up alone, well aware that we might not ever return from his mission. But orders were orders and you knew that even if he wanted to, he couldn't stay with you for his job had to be his top priority.

You had placed down the controller on the coffee table in front of your sofa. Playing videogames did not turn out to be enough of a distraction from the matter at hand, and both everything related to your own job and household chores had already been done. The pressure had made the air unbreathable so you had tried to pull your body over to the balcony to get some fresh oxygen, yet your limbs didn't move. Saying that your relationship with Leon had some negative side effects as well would be an understatement. It was terrible whenever he was gone, knowing that you, his partner, future fiancé even, knew so little about him and had no control over all the dangerous things he was put through was more than awful.

But you appreciate whenever he was with you, laying next to you in bed and his random little signs of affection that had made you fall in love with him. The sacrifices would be worth in the end if he was able to survive all of his jobs, if the two of you would be able to hold hands and finally seal your bond in marriage.

Though his dangerous job wasn't the only thing bothering you. To be fair, this particular point was a you-problem so you would never bring it up anywhere but your so tightly sealed own realm. But you were jealous. Of his co-workers. The fact they're able to seem him so much more often than you, that they knew so much more about him;

though worst was the thought that he could be honest with them. He didn't have to hide anything from them and it ate away at your heart like a wolf feasting on its prey.

Doubts would cross your mind, whether you truly knew Leon. Why would he prefer to spend time with you if he could have someone who he could be true to, someone who was able to understand his struggles on a level you yet could only hope to reach one day.

These thoughts circled through your head on a daily, and they didn't seem to stop; even when he was with you, hugging you in his sleep.

You weren't a noble person, if he was ready to commit to you despite having better alternatives you would take him any day, just because you couldn't remotely stand the thought of him being with another person. Perhaps it was selfish, but you preferred that way more than seeing him leave because you told him to.

The clock strikes 11.

You finally moved up from the couch and gazed through the endless night sky. You read a quote once. 'As long as we live under the same night sky and see the same stars, we will always be united.' It made you wonder if you were truly living under the same sky as Leon because it surely didn't feel like it. He was somewhere, but you weren't. You were here, without him. And he was out on a mission with someone, and that someone wasn't you.

As you finished giving into the thoughts in your head, you went ahead on your normal evening routine including closing all the windows, turning off all the lights and preparing your outfit for the next day. With each passing day you tried harder and harder to avoid looking up at the very few pictures of you and him hung up on the walls for it brought to much pain. You've gotten good at it, rushing by as the dead eyes of the picture stared at you relentlessly.

The last light had been turned off and you were just about to go to sleep as you felt way too exhausted to actually take care of tomorrow's choice of clothing when you suddenly heard the door open up. You knew that realistically it would be Leon but the small thought that it could be a robber who conveniently had the key to your front door and just walked in like nothing did linger in your mind, so you quickly entered the closest room and waited for sounds. Fear traveled through your body as you couldn't hear anything anymore. No steps, no doors opening, no nothing. As you instinctively hid behind the door so you wouldn't immediately be seen when being opened, you heard the doorknob being twisted.

A hard, bright light entered through the soft crack in the door though you knew that you had turned every last light off. You paid attention to the shadow forming on the floor as the person stepped through the door. "(Y/N)? Is everything.. alright?" you heard your partner's voice as he walked into the room. You moved away from the behind the door, slightly upset. "Oh my god Leon, you could've just immediately said something when you entered! I was so scared that you were some criminal breaking in!" You stared into his beautiful, blue eyes and despite the anger towards him and the entire situation surrounding him and his work, you could help but be glad that he was finally with you again.

He took a few steps back to turn the light switch on and the flashlight of his phone off. His silhouette was now a lot clearer and you couldn't see any visible wounds on his face and arms which was a big relief. Though he seemed tired and definitely mentally exhausted. "I just thought something might be wrong," he replied before pulling you into a deep hug. "I'm sorry, darling." You felt his chin resting on your head as he carefully moved his hands over your back. "I've missed you so fucking much, you know that?"

You bit your tongue, quite literally, as you remembered the jealousy that had eaten you up during this time of separation and desperation. But you would never tell him, it was a you problem after all, and he seemed to care so deeply since he didn't let you go and only tightened his hug the longer it continued. It seemed so genuine and real, and it almost convinced your irrational head that he was the one though you knew deep down that it couldn't be swayed. Irrationality, after all.

He had only reluctantly pulled away from you and made sure to place a soft kiss on your cheek before giving you a little room to breathe. "We should go the bedroom. It's late after all, and I have to go to work tomorrow," you suggested as you tried to examine the parts of his body that were revealed to you, making sure he really wasn't injured and you didn't miss anything; and maybe, just maybe, that irrational part of yours was looking for something else as well. "Do you need to eat or something? I maybe have some leftovers in the fridge." He shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not hungry." "What about your stuff?" "In my trunk. I'll get it out tomorrow." You nodded. "I'll just quickly go to the bathroom and change my clothes. I'll be right with you, darling."

You had made your way from your hiding spot, which you had now identified to be the kitchen, over to the bedroom the two of you shared. It was mostly decorated by you, since you arguably spent a lot more time there than Leon. It filled you with sadness, remembering all the negative things you felt during his absence, and anger, since you now couldn't enjoy his return because of it. You didn't want to experience all of this negativity but it was so much and it didn't seem to stop. The bedsheets felt weirdly cold tonight so you had no desire to burry yourself into them. You were just laying on top of it in starfish position, waiting for the door to open once more. You heard the sound of the city's night life unfolding below your apartment which during this particular time felt somewhat comfortable.

Leon had entered the room not shortly after. He was shirtless and just wore boxer shorts, like he always did for sleeping. He smiled as he saw how you were stretched out on the bed. Before you could move away on your own, he had already picked you up and moved you again so carefully to the side. He was being so extra soft today. Once he had stopped adjusting his position next to you, you took the chance to reach out your hand to caress his cheek, something you had longed to do for so long. As your fingers touched his skin your partner closed his eyes, breathing calmly. "Your hair grew a little bit?" "Don't be silly, it hasn't been long enough for it to grow." "It's been over a month." Saying it out loud. 'It's been over a month.' You couldn't really hide the pain that tagged along in your voice, showing him the surface of your current state of mind.

You wanted to pull your hand away from his cheek, but Leon had stopped you. He had placed his own on yours before placing kisses on your fingers. "I didn't know it had been that long. All I know was that I missed you." His voice sounded so weak and now you felt bad that you were ever doubting him. He seemed so genuinely sad about not being able to be by your side. "It's okay," you comforted him before moving a little closer. You softly placed your lips on his, pulling him to a quick kiss. "I need to wake up in a few hours though," you stated as you turned around to set your alarm for the morning. "So let's talk in the morning. Surely you're not gonna immediately leave again the next day," you joked and even though it was meant to come off as one your tone was awfully serious. And in your mind it was, since you were on the edge whenever he was around due to the uncertainty whether or not we would still be there during the next morning. He knew your stance on this matter but just chuckled along. "Yeah, let's hope."

Leon had reached his arms out with an apologetic look on his face. He had these puppy eyes, always looking so genuinely sad and hurt. You couldn't help yourself and snuggled into his arms, burying your face in his chest in the process. This feeling was something you wished to experience on the daily but it simply wasn't possible, so you tried to be satisfied with what you had. His hand trailed over your head ever so slightly and the kisses he had placed on your arm that was wrapped around his neck shortly after were warm and full love. You knew that he wanted to make it up to you and it made you happy, seeing how he cared despite the questionable circumstances.

Feeling his arms around you gave you the comfort you needed to finally get some proper rest, a proper rest away from all the negative thoughts that had haunted you before. Now that he was with you, everything else felt obsolete.

It was the same, every single time.

He would leave, you would be mad. You would have negative thoughts regarding him and you relationship, he would return before things would get out of hand. You would be content when he was around, he would leave again.

You knew it wasn't his fault. Leon had lost everything and forced into positions he didn't want to be in with no choice of his own. His fingers moving down your curves pushed all the negativity away. "(Y/N).." he mumbled sleepily as he pressed his body as close as physically possible against yours. "I love you. Please, never leave me." Something kept you from responding, maybe it were all these weird fears somewhere in your mind, or maybe because you knew he wasn't yet done talking. "I wish I could be with you every day and leave all of this behind. But I promise I'll make it up to you eventually." His head was deeply buried in-between your neck and shoulder, seeking in this familiar feeling of your skin. "Once this is all over we'll get married, and I'll be the best husband you could ever imagine."

You had to stay strong and keep the tears in for now. Thoughts circled through your mind like crazy. He must be apologising because he cheated, because he had to convince himself not to leave you, because he just wanted to keep you by his side for fun. You didn't want to think any of this, you wanted to believe that he loved you as deeply as he made it seem. A weak kiss followed his words before he closed his eyes. You only now noticed that he thought you were asleep this whole time. And you liked to keep it that way.

Leon only had you on his mind during his absence. A picture of you was in his pocket 24/7 and he always liked to look at it during moments of extreme despair. No other person could cheer him up as much as you did. That's why he knew he wanted to marry you one day. It was the only right thing to do.

You knew so too.

Though acceptance was hard those days. You didn't want to end up with a dead husband in the next few years, that prospect frightened you, yet you knew that if the day would come where you would stand before his casket, you'd regret not making him yours.

"You want me to be your wife?" you asked, hoping that he hadn't yet fallen asleep. His grip tightened ever so slightly around your waist. "I wanted to wait," he admitted quietly. His broken, soft voice reminded you of the Leon you had met those years ago, the aspiring policeman, "until this is all over but... this will be the rest of my life. I want to give you the chance to drop out if you don't want to commit to a life like this." He kissed your neck weakly. "I want you so much. It's so selfish but I can't imagine my future without you."

In the darkness of your bedroom, you searched for his lips. Your fingers softly trailed over them, sealing them shut before you replaced your fingers with your own lips. The kiss was loving, not passionate or anything but it meant so much more to you than pure lust. A single tear left your eye, which was quickly wiped away by Leon's hand.

"Never leave me darling," he mumbled into the kiss before quickly grasping for air. "I would never," you replied as you kissed him on his forehead. "You're my fiance after all."

#「♡」 resident evil #「♡」 Leon Kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #re4r leon

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