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b00kdiary · 5 months

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Dreamer | Rhysand (I)

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand begrudgingly goes to Hewn City to secure a marriage pact that will indefinitely bond the two Courts together- but the fine ladies of the Court of Nightmares are not what he wants or needs.

Instead, he discovers Lady Y/N, and she has no qualms about telling him how he has failed this City and her. This is more than just coincidence, it’s fate.

Warnings: long chapters, mature content (18 +) swearing, eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"High Lord, Rhysand of the Night Court."

I reach the top of the dais as my name is announced, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor and the sound bounces through the room, through the tense silence. No one speaks, they barely breathe, as I slowly turn, my face a sheet of ice as I settle onto my throne.

I let a nonchalant smile tug at my lips, the dark mask of a tyrant slipping into place as I eye the endless room before me. A macabre and dreary setting with its ebony walls and onyx ceiling, the beasts carved into the cavernous stone a mirror to the type of Fae who lived in this City.

I emulate the darkness as I lean back, my long legs spreading apart and my fingers curling into the engraved snake form that curves around the throne, the head peering out over my shoulder, my own personal monster.

I cock my head at the dozens of males before me, Council Members, my violet eyes twinkling in amusement as they all remained bowed, knees pressed to the floor, heads lowered and waiting for my word.

"You may rise," I drawl, my tone the picture of boredom, and as Kier and his peers rise to their feet, I see the apprehension and distaste on their faces for me, for my inner circle. Kier observes me, his brown eyes flickering at the prolonged silence. "Kier?"

"As usual, it is an honour to have you here, High Lord," Kier inclines his head, scurrying forward as he speaks, his own mask of reverence slipping into place as he stops before me. "As the steward of Hewn City, I am delighted by your decision to unite our two Courts through marriage, as are the Council present here today."

I see the way my Court stiffens, Mor, Cassian and Azriel all flanked at the bottom of the dais seem to go unnaturally still, the stones in their eyes wholly- unable to hide their disapproval of this whole arrangement.

"We all have our duties, Kier, the Court must always come first," My lips tilt in a mocking smile, and Kier shrivels under the tendrils of dark power that dance around me, an omnipresent threat so at odds with my amused gaze, "My marriage to a Lady of Hewn City will be a victory for us all."

Marriage.

The word tastes like poison on my tongue, any hopes and dreams I had once harboured turning to ash in my mouth at the cold reality I was faced with. To marry a female, I didn't know or love, to mate with her and sire a child, and secure an alliance with the Court of Nightmares indefinitely.

Heavy is the head that bears the crown indeed.

"It will be an alliance venerated for generations to come, I'm sure," Kier smiles, an ugly, wretched sight and I saw Mor shiver in my peripheral, an imperceptible movement, a conditioned reaction to her father. "High Lord, may I introduce to you the fine ladies selected by the Council."

I brace myself, masking my dread with an entertained smirk, drawing on the worst parts of myself, the worst parts of this place to hide the male that roared in warning to me inside. A click of doors opening at my left, and then several soft footsteps echoing into the chamber.

I stare, unyielding and silent, as several young women stride into the room, their heads bowed and back straight, adorned with fine clothes and finer jewellery as they stop at the foot of the dais before me.

They were fine, lovely even, tall, and thin, typical of High Fae female beauty and yet, despite their soft smiles and delicate frames, I frown.

"You can't be serious, even you wouldn't be this cruel," Mor releases a horrified, tight breath and both Cassian and Azriel step forward in unison, an impenetrable wall, as Kier's eyes turn to Mor and his lip curls. "These 'fine ladies' are girls, children, how old are they?"

The room shifted at her sharp words, Kier tensing at the accusation and the males of the Council muttering amongst themselves, their eyes burning as they glared at my cousin- at her supposed insolence for speaking out of turn.

"Their age is of little significance, girl," Kier sneers, that simpering fool mask he wore melting into revulsion and anger as he took in his outcasted daughter. My fingers curled around the throne under me as he spoke, that pit of darkness inside me churning. "They have all had their first bleed-"

"Cauldron," Cassian swore, his dark hair shifting as he moved his gaze over to those girls, and I saw his throat bob at the sight- so young, broken, pawns moved and used in a game of power.

"You're disgusting," Mor hissed, and I heard the pain clawing at her throat, her face pulled into a devastated frown as she took in those girls- and it was as if she were looking into a mirror, to the girl she had once been. "These girls are not chattel; you cannot sell their innocence for your own gain-"

"These ladies are being honoured, girl, an honour that you will never understand," Kier snarled, his emphasis on honour so clear, an indirect assault on Mor's character, on the choice she made to free herself. "To marry the High Lord is a privilege, one these ladies are eager for-"

Azriel's shadows thrum around him, restless, wild, and I knew his control was wearing thin the longer Kier spoke, the longer those girls stood before us, trembling under the burden on their shoulders.

"Enough." One word, low and sinister, and every mouth in the room closed, every Fae in the room turned utterly still at the command.

I grit my teeth, letting the furious power within me radiate into the room, let it dance through the air, brush against my subjects, let them feel the warning, the threat, that I was. I smile as their faces pale, flinching back from the vile magic, a reminder that I could destroy them without even lifting a hand.

"Kier, I am going to choose to believe that this decision was made out of sheer stupidity rather than insolence," My voice is a calm storm, but my eyes- they rage with a current of violence and death, the kind that made males twice my age blanche- and they do. "I will choose to believe that you did not invite me here to waste my time- you wouldn't dare be so foolish, would you Kier?"

I shifted forward in my seat, my eyes narrowing down at the male, and it took all the restraint in me not to shatter every bone in his body, to not pluck his eyes from his head and tear his tongue from his mouth- and he sees that desire to inflict pain upon him in my gaze.

"Never, High Lord, I would not dream of-" Kier barely contains his stuttering words, a mixture of fear, indignation and humiliation lacing through his widening gaze, but like the worm he was, he bowed his head to me in remorse. "It was a grave misjudgement, one that will not be repeated again."

"Good- I desire to sire a child, Kier, not marry one," I sneer, my disgust prevalent across every hard inch of my face as I turn from Kier, moving my eyes across every last council member, "Just as I am sure you all agree, these girls have many more years left to enjoy their youth, yes?"

I make the threat clear in my words, make them clear in my eyes- touch these girls and die.

None oppose me, their hearts hammering in their chests as they nod their head in agreement, subservient and controlled- and a small kernel of satisfaction fills me, that they felt a fraction of what the girls before me did.

"Kier, join me in the Council Room," I stand from my chaise, and as if it were muscle memory, every single person in the room falls to a knee and drops their heads as I descend the stairs. "Let us discuss the consequences you'll all face should you disappoint me again."

***

"Y/N, a union between the High Lord and a Lady of Hewn City is exactly the chance we've been waiting for," Cassandra pestered, her wide eyes pleading with me, but I ignored her again, choosing to instead clean the Council Room for the next meeting with haste. "It's a chance for change."

"Who are you trying to convince, Cassie- me or yourself?" I mutter, raising a dark brow at her as I tuck in the oak chairs, shoving them into place harder than was needed. "This marriage is a farce, and you're deluding yourself by thinking otherwise."

Cassie groans, the sound reverberating through the empty room, and I try to not laugh at her as she rushes around the endless table, her sea-blue eyes rolling as she stops beside me.

"Why must you be such a pessimist?" Cassie demands, her cold, slim fingers ripping the papers from my hand and slamming them onto the table before me. "With a lady from our Court married to the High Lord, we can finally hope, we will have someone on our side- to help us, to fix this Cauldron-forsaken City-"

"And who would that be?" I scoff out a laugh, a bitter, hollow sound as I turn my hard gaze to her, strands of my loose hair brushing my hot cheeks as I move, "Thanatos's daughter despises the Court of Dreams, Kier's nieces care more about fine jewels and clothes than people, and the other daughters are afraid of their own shadows, they would shit themselves at the sight of the High Lord and his inner circle."

Cassie purses her lips at my harsh words, and I frown, sighing deeply at the look of dejection on her lovely face, hating myself for snuffing out the light that had filled her eyes. But it had to be done- some people were not meant to dream.

"I'm sorry, Cassie, I know you wish it were otherwise, I do too," I force back the lump in my throat as I turn from her, hating the way my lip trembled and my hands felt weak, "But this marriage will benefit nobody but the High Lord, his court, and the males of the Council- that's it. They have never and will never care, there is no one on our side but us."

Silence fills the room at my hoarse dead words, and the reality of them, the reality that we were truly and irrevocably stuck in this life, in this cycle of hell made my eyes burn.

"It saddens me that you feel that way, My Lady," A deep, velvety voice rasped from behind me, and the air went taut at the unfathomable power that penetrated the room.

Cassandra gasped, something spilling from her hand and dropping to the floor with a deafening crunch. My stomach twists into knots as I brace myself, all the blood leeching from my face as I turn- to where the High Lord stood, his inner circle and Kier watching on either side.

"High Lord," Cassie choked on the title, choked on her fear and before the male before us could speak, she stumbled down to a knee, her head bowed and her golden hair falling forward to shield the terror on her face.

I couldn't move, not even as the voice inside me screamed and begged for me to bow, to submit myself to him- for I had heard stories of Rhysand.

Of his abilities as a Daemati, able to shatter a person's mind without lifting a hand, of his ruthlessness as High Lord, reducing people to ash with a smile on his lovely face, of all the horrific things he had done in his five hundred years of existence.

And it seemed he saw it on my face, perhaps even saw it in my mind, the nightmares and tales, the horrors spread about him in the City, about the kind of male he was.

His violet gaze narrowed, the constellations in them beaming as he stared at me, as he cocked his head, his lips pursed into a thin line- as if observing me. I shook under the silent act, the unyielding hold he had over me, as well as the gazes of his court at his side.

"Y/N!" Cassie hissed under her breath, her head turning and her silver-lined eyes meeting mine, tears sullying the usually tranquil blue as she pleaded with me to move, to bow.

"Insolent girl," Kier spat, his gaze hard as he glared at me and the breath caught in my lungs as a dark eclipse of magic shot from him, striking against my stomach, hard enough that I lurched forward in pain and then another hit a second later, slamming into my jaw. "Bow before your High Lord."

I groaned as I fell to a knee, the impact of the bone against the polished floor striking through my whole leg and up my body, but that was nothing compared to the throb that burned through my stomach and the cut at my lip, the taste of metal filling my mouth.

I heard a gasp, a feminine sound of surprise and concern from above me as I leaned forward, my eyes pinched shut and every breath feeling like glass in my lungs as I tried to compose myself- forcing down the pain in my jaw, in my stomach, in my heart.

I heard footsteps and then the room went still, as if a blanket of ice had fallen over us.

"High Lord, she-she was being impudent-" Begging and broken words, riddled with fear and my eyes shot open at the sound of a sickening crunch, an agonised scream following it, and the aura of death filling the space.

"No, you are impudent, Kier," That voice again, but now it sounded different- the kind of mercilessness that could haunt a person's nightmares, that could be found in the darkest hollows of hell. "You do not touch her, or any other female, ever."

Another crunch and I recognise the sound now, it was bones splintering, tendons tearing, blood gushing and Kier cried out again, a horrible, strangled sound.

"Leave," The High Lord breathed the command, and I felt the floor shake under his restraint like he was funnelling his power down into the ground as an anchor. "and do not heal that hand, I want you to remember my words today, Kier."

I keep my head low, staring at the floor, unable to look up as footsteps bound away, fast and stumbling and I cringe at the sight of blood leaking against the floor, a trail following after Kier as he exits the room.

And despite the tendrils of pain still wrecking through me- I internally groaned at the thought of having to clean the blood up.

An amazed huff of air left the High Lord, it sounded almost like a laugh, but I didn't dare raise my head. Not even as he slowly sauntered over, his footsteps deliberate and slow, I didn't even look up when that trail of blood vanished, magicked away, leaving behind not even a stain in memory.

He stopped before me, and my heart thrummed so loud I knew they could all hear it.

"My Lady," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft now, like a caress of wind against my skin. I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth, my eyes fluttering as I lift my head- to see the hand he had reaching down for me. "Please, rise."

I blink at the outreached hand, heat filling my cheeks at Rhysand's tender gaze, any whisper of violence or darkness gone, replaced by something so much sweeter. I gnaw on my cheek, my hand sweating and shaking as I reach forward, gently placing my palm in his.

The second our hands connect, something charges through me, bright and sharp and strong and for a second Rhysand's eyes widen, just for a second, but then he blinks at it's gone- as if I had imagined it.

"Thank you, High Lord," I breathe and his fingers curl firmly around my palm as I wince, my knees shaking and knocking as I rise to my feet. He whispers something gently under his breath, his head glancing sideways, and I sigh when Cassandra rises too, her slender frame curling back as she stands.

I crane my neck to meet Rhysand's eyes, and upon seeing my face, seeing the cut leaking blood at my lip, his expression hardens. He still hadn't let go of my hand, his large, ringed fingers still gripping around me like a vice, calming the trembling shakes that ran through me.

"I apologise for Kier's actions," Rhysand sighed, his dark lashes fluttering as he slowly slipped his hand from mine, moving to the pocket of his jacket, his fingers pulling free the cloth there. My hand felt cold as it fell back to my side, but as Rhysand lifted the cloth between his fingers, my head hazed.

I didn't breathe, couldn't, as Rhysand gently brushed the soft cloth against the cut at my lip, soaking the material with blood and being so careful that I didn't even feel the pain stinging at the touch. I feel the surprised stare of Cassie at my side, of his family at his back, but nothing deterred Rhysand.

"I should be the one to apologise, High Lord," I stutter, finally feeling like I can breathe as he pulls his hand away, and I blink away the fog, clearing my throat as I step back, as I let the bubble, he created around us pop. "I spoke out of turn, and I should have bowed-"

"You don't need to apologise for your honesty or anything else," He shook his head, the soft waves of his blue-black hair shifting with the movement, and I forced myself to not stare at every inch of his handsome face. "I don't punish Ladies for words spoken in earnest between friends."

I nod, uncertainty and weariness shining in my gaze as I take in his intense half-smile, a smile that seems to brighten when I glance at Cassandra, looking equally as confused as me, and I shrug weakly.

"Though I will admit I am rather taken aback by your words, Lady Y/N," I shiver at the sound of my name on his silver tongue, at the way he cocked his head down at me, a purely predatory move, as he spoke. "I would like to hear more of your thoughts on the matter."

Hear my thoughts?

I go still at his easy words, at the question rather than a command, and Cassie releases a puff of air- like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to placate her aching lungs.

"What?" I croak and then wince at the insolence behind my words, a habit that I couldn't shake in front of the High Lord. I pinch my eyes shut at the way his lip quirks, and my embarrassment is worsened by the small chuckle that General Cassian huffs out. "I mean- I'm not sure that's-"

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," Rhysand purred, nonchalance highlighted in every inch of his muscled form as he tucked the cloth back into his pocket and grinned at me, like a lion before devouring a lamb. "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

***

"There is no one on our side but us."

The words were so hollow and defeated, the type of ruined that spoke of no hopes, dreams, or future, just nothing. And it was hard to explain what I felt at the words, like a sharp pain as if she had reached into my chest and torn out my heart with her bare hand.

She said that they have never and will never care- 'they' being me, my court, the people around me now and the ones left behind in my City of Starlight.

Sincere words, loaded words, spoken by a female behind closed doors, in confidence to her friend- and yet, I had overheard.

I wasn't sure what to expect when stepping into this room and wasn't sure what kind of female I would be confronted with. I had anticipated a female full of loathing and darkness, a kind of anger that would burn in her eyes, that could be seen through every breath she took, in every inch of her skin as she moved.

And yet, as I stared at the girl before me, I was met with the exact opposite.

The other lady, Cassandra, had become a shaking mess the second her blue eyes laid upon me, her breaths gasping from her as if everyone would be the last. She was terrified because that was all she knew in this city; it was all she knew of me.

But Lady Y/N was different- she was frightened by me, yes, I saw it in her doe-like eyes, saw it in the memories that flashed through her mind of me, the tales of my cruelty and brutality, the blood that stained my hands and the darkness that tainted my heart.

But she didn't look away, as if she couldn't.

Here she was faced with a monster that mothers warned their children about, yet she stared at me as if she saw me- and was as beguiled by me as I was by her.

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," I smile, the tightness in my chest easing as a stain tints her plump cheeks, and her chocolate eyes widen, "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

Her friend swallows, audible and thick, as if struggling to get down air and Azriel shifts on his feet, his brow furrowed as if concerned the girl might collapse. Y/N glances at her, and amusement fills me at the small, confused shrug she gives her.

"You won't uh-" She clears her throat, her hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, and I watch every single movement as she tucks the silken strand over a perfectly arched ear, revealing the smooth column of her neck. "You won't turn me to dust, right?"

I snort, a short and amazed sound, and she gnaws on her lip, avoiding the cut there and I have to begrudgingly tear my gaze away when my court steps forward, my brothers half-smiling and Mor looking at Y/N as if she was as charmed by her as I was.

"No, no, Lady Y/N," My mask slips and slips until it's completely gone, and I'm glad that Kier left, glad that none but her saw me like this because it felt freeing, to be in this Cauldron-forsaken place and be able to genuinely smile. "No one will be turned to dust, on my honour as High Lord."

"Please do tell us," Mor steps forward, a small smile on her red-pained lips and Y/N's breath hitches at the eyes on her, at the attention. "Contrary to what you may think, we do care."

Y/N considers, and I can hear her heart hammering in her chest, fast and loud and endless, but despite that she lifts her chin and something raw runs through me at the look in her eyes- the bravery.

"I- I think that Hewn City is a cesspit, full of the worst kind of Fae and every amoral despicable thing a person could do happens here," She breathes, and her soft body trembles with the exhale, as if speaking these words aloud were exactly the catharsis she needed. "And to be honest, I blame you for that."

Surprise- it fills me and every single other person in the room.

"Y/N!" Cassandra gasps, and her eyes seem to widen further, impossibly big, latching onto me and full of pleading, "She doesn't mean that- she must be more delirious than anticipated from the-"

"Cassie, please," Y/N scoffs, a hollow and low sound, and the tension in the air goes thick as they glance at each other. "Someone needs to say it, it might as well be me."

I fold my arms across my chest, my lips pursing as they stare at each other, some internal telepathic conflict waging between them, in their eyes and despite my abilities, despite the fact, that it would be so easy for me to slip into their minds and wade through all their thoughts, I don't.

I glanced back at my Court, who stood just behind me, and their faces were contemplative too- not angry, nor offended, but shocked- here was this girl, no older than twenty, with eyes as soft as a doe's, telling us exactly how we have failed.

"Please, continue," I nod, and I hope my eyes are encouraging, because even if I do not wish to hear her words, she was right, they needed to be said and I needed to hear them.

"For centuries, the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams have been segregated and somehow we've fallen into two categories: good and bad," She swallows, and something aches in my chest at the sorrow on her lovely face, the burden, "But no one is born bad, people aren't inherently evil but growing up in a place like this? What else is there but the horrors we see and endure, what else are we destined to become?"

Another shaky inhale, a more broken exhale, and my magic burn inside me as if every desperate breath from her is like a call and my body is begging in answer.

"Your court has washed their hands of us, all of us because it was easier to believe that we were all damned than to try to help- the small minority have ruined the majority," Silver lines her hardening gaze, and I feel us all, every single one of us, go tense at the single tear that trickled down her cheek.

I hear a strangled sound come from behind me and my burning gaze glances back- to Mor, tears brimming her eyes and her lips trembling, watching the girl before us, and feeling every single atom of hurt as if it were her own.

"Morrigan was lucky enough to escape this City, these people because she had you- but do you truly think that she is the only good person born here, that in all these years, she is the only one worthy of salvation?"

More tears leak down Mor's face and Y/N's, endless, eternal, years of suffering in one single moment and I feel the guilt of my actions barrel down at me, a truth that I have spent years avoiding coming to light, like a thunderbolt to the heart.

I let my magic hold me down, let it root me in my spot- because those tears on her cheeks are tormenting me, ruining me, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and brush them away.

"So, forgive me if I have no hope left, that died in me, in all of us, long ago," Y/N clears her throat, her chest rising and falling in powerful waves and my throat is as dry as sand as she wipes the tears from her cheeks, "I- I think we could have all been dreamers- if only you had given us the chance."

In five hundred years, the mask I wore never slipped, never faltered, never was hard to wear- until right now. Right now, as my gaze locked with her, as I saw all the horrors she endured, because of my neglect, I couldn't even find that mask within me- it was gone.

There's silence, heavy and long and burdensome for what feels like hours as I stare at her, and I don't think I could look away even if I wanted to do and I don't, I don't want to.

Y/N inhales a sharp breath as I stalk towards her and the magic in me dances and whirls and strikes through the air, dark and ominous and wholly powerful. My jaw locks as she grabs out to her friend, Cassandra whimpering as Y/N yanks the girl behind her- a shield, against me.

Brave- so utterly brave. Willing to face off with a male five hundred years her senior and her High Lord, to protect her friend.

A Queen in her own right.

I stop before her, so close that I feel her breasts brush my chest, feel the small trembles that wreck through her body, can smell the lavender and jasmine on her perfect skin. She raises her eyes to me, and I see every ounce of her character, her heart and soul, as she tries to not cower before me.

"How old are you, My Lady?" I mutter, and she shivers under my easy words, her brow furrowing at the non-threat. "And what do you do here, your role?"

"Twenty-one, High Lord." She swallows, her tongue flicking out nervously to wet her lips and my hands clench at the sight, at the moisture on her pink mouth. "My father was Captain of an import chain for the City, I was given the role of Lady-in-waiting as a reward for his work."

I sense the curiosity and shock of my court behind me, the way they imperceptibly inch closer to me, to us, drawn in by my words- by the intention behind them.

"You believe the alliance is a farce, that it wouldn't change anything?" I ask, softer, and my power slips from me, curling around her curved hips and soft thighs, moving through her silken hair and over her sensitive skin- and she shakes her head, unable to speak. "What if I were to find a Lady of Hewn City who shared your sentiments, who desired for change and salvation just as you do- would that make you more inclined to hope?"

Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath, her blue eyes widening- in realisation. And I felt the air tauten, my inner circle going still, knowingly.

But Y/N cocked her head, a youthful move, not seeing what was right in front of her.

"Yes, I think that you marrying a Lady who genuinely cares for this City and its people would be a step in the right direction," She considers, and I can't fight my smile at the tender, sincere, confusion that pinches her lovely face. "Thought I seriously doubt you will find any such female here."

"Hm," A lazy grin stretches across my face, bright and sure, drawing from the feeling blooming in my chest, raw and new and terrifying as I stare down at her, "I already have."

"High Lord? I don't understand-" Her words melt into a gasp as my fingers caress her cheek, moving ever so gently against that sore cut at her lip- and satisfaction fills me when her eyes flutter, a breathy sound slipping from her.

"I have already found the perfect Lady to marry," Her face burns as I run my eyes languidly down her figure, across her entire face and body- and she stills as realisation fills her, "All you have to do is say yes, Y/N darling."

#acotar #rhysand #rhysand smut #rhysand x reader #smut #sarah j maas #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x y/n #acotar fanfiction #sjm #the bat boys #acotar smut

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agarthanguide · 6 months

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How the heck do you get Ashton to actually look like a rock? Signed, a fanartist who has tried every brush under the sun but still cannot nail it the way you brilliantly have.

ahhh thank you so much for the kind words!

Answer (sort of)- Ash's palette was hugely up in the air for a really long time. I kept pitching random bits of color at Taliesin, but his write up did not have any specific coloring in it from the get-go. And because I knew they were made of rock, I trended towards something to the left or right of grey (his working/code name had the word grey in it, as well, which def influenced me).

This went on for a while, until one day Tal did his Tal thing and just sent me plans for the finished Ashton. He painted over one of my sketches with the colors he wanted, included refs of some textures. The textures for the skin included nephrite and serpentine (nephrite is one form of jade, serpentine is a whole other thing.)

The serpentine reference had these really bold lines running through it, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to replicate them, so i just... dropped the texture into the sketch. I think I was just checking to see if it was gonna make them unreadable, but it actually looked pretty great. I painted over it a bit to work out where the lines should fall and how to get them to bend around the figure. And then when I was doing the final render, I made a brush that made the fucky line effect. There's one key element to the brush that I will show you-

The shape of the brush is just a random splatter shape, but the angle, size, and roundness change in response to pen pressure, so that as you draw, you can increase the size with added pressure, and some lovely, 3-D helix shapes will start appearing as you go.

From there it's easy- Make an extreme dark and an extreme light in your little texture space, then paint over in variations of green to push things deeper into Ash's "skin" while maintaining a slight transparency.

Here's some other little tips- - Before you add intense, lined texture, start with a textured base. This can be anything. Once I used a picture of the amazon rainforest with heavy color correction. Sometimes I use sponge brushes. Have fun with it. - Try to make the larger textures support the underlying figure. My go-to is large, lazy spirals that shimmy up and down their limbs. - Don't fight the lighting too much. To increase readability, try to use elements of higher or rougher texture to frame the features, while keeping the immediate area of their eyes, for example, less busy.

Good luck, and thanks for the ask!

#my art #critical role #asks

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shewrites02 · 1 month

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Forgive Me if I break You | Zoro x Reader | Part II

Part I

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, Alcohol, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI !

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE IN THE FIRST FLASHBACK, IF NOT COMFORTABLE PLEASE SKIP. (the last line is the most important anyway)*

A/N: Thank you for all the support I've gotten at the start of this series, I was so nervous no one would be interested lol. I hope this part lives up to your expectations.

Request: Open

Word count: 5K

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

The cold of the ice pack stings against your cheek, almost as much as the insults lodged in your throat with nowhere to go. Harshly, you swallow them down, having to reacclimate to the taste of stifled feelings. Almost completely forgotten in those two months.

You're in your shared bedroom, sitting in Lee's lap. Your head lays against his chest. With how tenderly he stroked your hair, you're almost able to imagine care in his touch. Pretend it is the swordsman who caresses you so tenderly. Lee places a soft kiss to your cheek, laying his head against yours.

"I'm sorry, y/n ... I didn't mean to lose my temper." He coos. In the past six months he never came up with any other excuse. Always an apology then an explanation of why it was your fault.

"It's jus’- you embarrassed me in front of our guests, interrupting me like that. You know I hate when you do that- and that fucking swordsman clearly has feelings for you."

Lee is almost completely lost in his rambling, and you think for a moment you will get relief from this puppet show he has forced you into. But the mention of Zoro has you going stiff.

"It's disgusting. a lowlife pirate thinking he can have what is mine. I forbid you from seeing him, do you understand?"

"Yes dear." you respond.

As if the swordsman wanted anything to do with you now. Not after what you've done to him- not after he has seen how pathetic you are. The future world's best swordsman deserves more than someone like you.

"I'm so glad you're home." Lee pivots. "I can't believe I thought you left me-"

Lee lets out a chuckle as though the thought is inconceivable. In spite of your rigidness, the chief takes a deep breath to relax into the headboard. Each chuckle that leaves his mouth tightens your shackles. Reaffirming what you already know- you aren't going anywhere.

"Is that what happened to the countryside?" You ask meekly. Fearful of the answer, but so desperate for the truth. "Did you burn the lemon grove to punish me?"

"... Yes."

Tears swell in your eyes as you pull away to look at the merciless man in front of you. A man who would bathe in your blood with no remorse. So desperate for your obedience he is willing to strip the last memories of your mother away from you as punishment . Did not need proof of your transgressions, his outrage evidence enough to justify his actions.

The chief uses the edge of his thumb to swipe the shallow tears brimming in your eyes.

"We can replant all of them my love, even more, now that you are home. "He lets his thumb sweep over your cheek and lips before he draws away.

Still he wears no semblance of remorse. No guilt or shame for what he's done. For the villagers - his people- homes destroyed in the crossfire of his rage. Couldn't care less about the massive amounts of nature he burned to ash in the name of revenge. Their forfeiture was a consequence of your decision to act so selfishly. It was all your fault-

Why should the chief feel apologetic?

"And the villagers?"

Lee leans in to gently place another kiss to your cheek. As though his kisses can ease the pain of his strikes. Something in you wants to believe he is trying to soothe the pain he inflicted on you. The more nihilistic part of you knows you are only searching for the swordsman's affection in Lee 's actions. Actions that only encompass power and control, that force obedience. Lee rests his forehead head against your head so that his lips are centimeters away from your ear.

"I told you, what I would do if you left- I thought you called my bluff, honey …"

Your mouth went dry at the sight. How- You thought- there was no time to waste musing through all the precautions you thought you followed. Not when your husband stood in front of you disproving their effectiveness.

"What is this?" He asked, pointing over to the bed.

There is an empty duffle bag clutched tight in his left hand- your duffle bag. Its contents scattered on the bed sporadically. A couple thousand berry, a map, exactly two changes of clothes, and a log pose. Everything you needed for a seamless departure.

"I- don't know how it- I-" You were too caught off guard to lie, too unprepared to conjure up an excuse on the fly. Instead you stood fumbling like an idiot trying to figure out how Lee could have possibly just stumbled upon your stash.

"What is it?!" The chief shouted, this time throwing the duffle bag so that it landed at your feet. Before you could answer, he was already stalking toward you. Soon his hands were wrapped around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. You'd wince in pain if the man had allowed you any wiggle room.

"Were you trying to leave me?" he growls.

"No-" you tried to muffle through your clenched jaw. the word only coming out as a strained cry.

He looked unconvinced. That darkness you're too familiar with started to fill his eyes. It made you begin to question what in you was so naïve enough to think you could escape. Lee moves his hand from your cheek to wrap his arm firmly around your waist. His opposite arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"You want to leave me?" He snarled.

Your head shook ‘no’ so vigorously you almost forgot it was a lie. Just trying to appease the chief, to be spared from his wrath. It did not work. Lee was already starting to walk backward , dragging your body along easily despite your protests. This time you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Lee easily kicked open the French doors leading to the balcony. Your kicking and screaming, posing as no defense against your husband. He drags you, until your torso is pressed against the balcony railing and he is forcing your head over to look at the drop.

"This is your only way out. If you want to leave me tell me now and I'll throw you over myself.... Say it!"

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave." The words repeated from your mouth like an incantation. Barely made out through your cries.

It was enough to make the chief release you, letting your limp body fall to the concrete. He stared down at you with a satisfactory smile before bending at the knees. The gentleness in his touch as he swept the hair out your face is always a precursor to his cruel threats.

"I'll burn this whole village to the ground if you try to leave again. Do you understand me?" He snarls. "Slowly, one by one I will burn every region until you return to me. I will force you to watch everyone, everything , burn because you decided to be fucking selfish."

Another kiss is planted to your cheek before the whisper of Lee's voice commands your attention back to him. A shiver of a sigh escaping your lips at the painful memory.

"I can rebuild their homes... would you like that?"

You nod, letting the tears stream your face. You can feel Lee's smirk against your skin when he kisses the streaks. As though he is giving his approval of your reaction, your emotion. The whites of his fingers dig into your waist to hold you close. His grip does not lessen when you start to sob.

This is how he loved you. Broken. Tattered. Hopeless. An ode to his power, to how much he controlled you.

"Okay, Honey, first thing in the morning."

Water trickles down your chin and onto the sink. You had washed your face six times trying to get the feeling of Lee's hands off you. A futile attempt. His touch would be seared onto you forever.

You trace your cheek while staring into the vanity. There's some relief in not seeing a mark. Probably have your hiatus to thank for Lee's sudden mercy on you. At least you won't be subjected to questions. Trying to conjure up on the spot cover ups come morning, as to not incriminate your husband.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth. You would sob if you weren't so convinced you deserved this. The stinging of your face, the burning of your throat, the stabbing feeling in your chest. This must all be just a fraction of what you imposed on Zoro. The guilt in you leaves little room for other emotions, especially self pity.

How dare you believe a life waited for you beyond these cities' walls. Stupid, stupid, stupid- Foolishly thinking you could escape the future both your father and husband have mapped for you.

You curse the two month departure for giving you a glimpse of how good freedom could feel. For bringing the swordsman into your life when he is so undeserving of the burden you pose. For finally giving you hope just to later rub it in your face.

"Lady Misatori." A small voice quips from the other side of the bathroom door. A knock follows to further force your attention.

A housekeeper stands on the other side. She can barely meet your eyes. A piece of notebook paper is folded into a tight square in her fingers , she is extending it out for you to grab. It trembles in her hands, giving way to the anxiety she is failing to hide.

"Thank you." You mutter. The maid looks relieved to hear her question-free dismissal.

When you open up the note you immediately recognize the handwriting. Had seen scribbled recipes written on loose leaf paper, and napkins enough to note it as Sanji's.

'Mosshead wants to talk- garden 10 minutes .'

The woman's trembling is finally put into perspective. Fearful of what her role in sneaking around the chief could mean for her. Briefly you wonder what the cook could've said to convince the woman to do this. Had his charm really been strong enough to get the woman to forgo all her senses? Part of you wishes to relish seeing Sanji's flirting finally meet with intrigue, but the insistent need to lay eyes on Zoro replaces the thought.

It has you stumbling out of the bathroom as quickly as you could. Forever grateful that in all his control Lee had found it fitting to give you a private bathroom.

It is dark, and wet. Leaves crunch and crumble beneath your feet as you walk the maze-like garden. The unpaved path is bordered with mountainous rose bushes that block your view of any direction, but front and back. The red flowers bloom so fruitfully they encroach your space on the pathway. The weather has gotten considerably cooler in the night, forcing you to pull your cardigan tighter around your shoulders. Regretting that the rush had made you grab the first thing with sleeves you saw.

A sigh leaves your lips exhaustedly. Surely the cook was mistaken. There was no sign of the swordsman anywhere. Maybe he had changed his mind about wanting to talk. Decided the risk isn't worth the reward. That you aren't worth the breath-

You hit an intersection on the path, and before you have the opportunity to turn left, there is a tight grasp around your arm. The force pulls you back, nestling you into the bushes behind you as you still. Once you gain your composure and are able to open your eyes, you’re met with the swordsman.

His left hand is wrapped firmly around your right arm, his other rest in the bush beside your head. Zoro has you caged. Trapped with nowhere to run. No place to hide. No escape.

"Husband?" He fumed. "Have you just been fucking around with me?"

"Zoro..." You plead, reaching out to grasp his cheek. He does not let you. Releases his hold on you to take a step back before your fingers land on him. The look on his face seethes of betrayal.

"Answer me!" The pirate barks. You flinch at the tone of his words, your eyes shutting closed. It takes a minute to gather yourself. You have never heard Zoro's voice void of any affection.

You swallow your own tears . Shove down your discomfort to accept accountability for your actions. Even if all you want to do is hold the swordsman once more. Hear his heart thump in his chest. Hear him say he loves you.

"I should have told you. I am so sorry I hurt you Zoro. "

The pirate scoffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He is shaking his head in disbelief, eyes burrowing into yours.

"You lied to me. You told me you loved m-"

"I Promise Zoro, I love you. I love you so much. so much." You beseech.

The swordsman seems even more tortured by your testament. His hands find his skull to dig his fingers into his scalp. As if trying to ground himself for only a moment at the reeling thoughts.

"Does he know that? That you love me, that you're mine?"

When you don't answer the frustration builds in the swordsman. He lets out a pained laugh that morphs into more of a choke. His expression is filled with disbelief.

"You're not mine." He speaks as if he is speaking to himself. "You're his."

"That is who you want to spend the rest of your life with? He talks to you like shit- the dirt beneath his shoes and you smile through the whole thing. The man who thinks you're his accessory- That is the man you love?"

Zoro badgers you. Moving his tongue as piercingly swift as you're sure, he can wield his swords.

"I do not love that man." You choke.

"Then why?" The swordsman shouts. His exclamation wakes the small birds that have chosen the garden as their resting place. The sounds of their wings flapping away from the conflict fills the air. "Y/n ... why are you doing this to me?"

There is a frailness to his voice you don't recognize. Something so breakable about the way he utters your name. In the two months you had spent with Zoro you had never seen him show this much emotion.

"Zoro, if I could stay on the beach with you forever... I would. But I can't. I have people who need me-"

"I need you!" He professes, throwing his arms in the air.

The way that Zoro bares his scars to you , when you could not do the same in return physically pains you. You force down the tears that dare to surface at his confession. Who were you to be hurt in a situation you hand crafted? To cry in the presence of a man who held his broken heart in his hands with hopes, you would fix it.

There's an immense sadness in your restraint, how you're able to still your body though every bone in you wants to wrap around him. Reciprocate all the comfort Zoro so willingly gives to you. But this is not the beach-

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I'm so sorry." Your eyes shift to the ground. The tears are so much harder to fight off when you can see the confusion under his saddened expression.

Zoro cups your cheeks in his hands and for a fleeting moment there is no anger. There are only kisses shared under the stars, gasps fallen onto the sand, words of endearment lost to the wind. Love. For a second Zoro stares at you and there is only love.

"I don't want apologizes- " There's a shake in his breath. " I want you to tell me why I have to watch another man touch you. Why he gets to hold you tonight instead of me. Tell me why you keep saying you love me, but you're going home to another man. Tell me the fucking truth!"

Even in his anger you can hear the worry in the pirate's voice. It takes you by surprise. Maybe malice hasn't taken up the space of affection in Zoro's heart after all. Maybe in all his poking and prodding Lee had only brought concern out of the first mate. The sweet sentiment physically aches. You turn your head, breaking free from his grasp.

"Leave Zoro- take your crewmates and go. I'm only going to hurt you if you stay, so please- go."

"... Is he why you need the sun to feel free?"

You're caught off guard by the swordsman's questions. Don't expect to hear your words echoed from his mouth. "Free". You could almost laugh hearing the word now. Freedom? What did you know about freedom? Always a pawn for someone else's will, your own desires to be placed on a shelf and expectantly forgotten. This castle has always been your prison.

"I'll make sure you'd feel the sun everyday. I will drag it out the sky and place it in your hands if it will make you smile. I'll never trap you. I love you. Please- don't leave me." He begs.

Your body is moving on its own again, this time manipulated by the voice of the swordsman. Unsure of what has come over you, you're reaching out for Zoro, pulling him in closer. You know that you shouldn't. Especially not here and not now. But it does not stop you from standing on your tiptoes to press your lips into his.

The intention was for a quick kiss, just one last time to feel Zoro's lips on yours, but it's difficult not to savor the moment. To not search for another life, one where you could be together, in his mouth. The same desperation is displayed in the way Zoro grasps you. Tight. One hand tangled in your hair while the other on your waist. As if he could hold you tight enough to stay. He groans in displeasure why you finally pull away from him.

"Go Zoro. I'm only going to break you."

The sun has risen just enough to illuminate the desolate field. The early morning is still shying away from pushing out the darkness of night completely. You woke early enough to see Lee still had not returned home. Off doing something you are sure, is none of your business.

You took the opportunity to sneak out to what used to be the lemon grove. Tears stream your face while you wonder what pushed you out here. What exactly it is that you're hoping to find amongst the ash.

The memories of your mother you can't get back? Pieces of the wooden swing you used to sit on in the summer? Evidence it was truly necessary to leave the swordsman in your past?

It's hard to focus on all you've lost when staring at the pile of rubble that is the villagers' homes. Their whole lives destroyed at a whim. You did this to them. Had you stayed home and behaved no one, not even the swordsman, would be in this situation.

"Wanna tell me what you're looking for?"

The whisper behind you sounds so familiar. There is a part of you that does not want to turn around, thinks it's better off not knowing who the voice belongs to. A bigger part of you itches with a need to know.

"Zoro."

"Maybe I can help you find it." There's a crooked smirk on his lips.

It's involuntary, the way your heart is instantly soothed at his arrival. Something it must have learned on its own while on the beach. You have to fight not to jump into his arms. Draw him into you with the wish to feel his lips again.

" I thought I told you to leave..." you mutter.

"You did." The pirate agrees. Zoro moves from behind you, so you no longer have to crane your neck to look at him. He reaches to take your hand in his. His thumb traces the back of your hand, his touch so soft you almost don't feel it.

"You're still here."

"You may have authority in this village, but the only person I take orders from is Luffy." He lets out a laugh.

The sound forces your brows to furrow to the center of your face. Where was his anger? His disappointment? Why wasn't he yelling at you? The last conversation you had with the swordsman had not gone the best. This warm welcome is the farthest reception you expected to receive.

"What?" He asks, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles your frown causes. You're surprised at the way you flinch when his fingertips touch your forehead, a reaction you hadn't had in at least a month.

Had it really only taken one night with Lee to erase all your expectations of being lovingly touched?

You can see Zoro's happy exterior waiver for just a moment at your knee jerk reaction. Still he does not draw away his fingers. Just trails them down so he can stroke your cheek. Still offering you a kind smile.

"Stop Zo..." You're taking a step away before you can give into him. Pulling your hand away to further the distance. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see the lemon grove..." He uses the tip of his boot to kick at a burned shingle on the ground. "So much for that."

"Oh? You made it here all on your own?" In spite of your sorrows you laugh. "You didn't get lost?"

Zoro glares at you, his eyebrows raised to his temples. You suspect he hadn't expected you to join in on his light heartedness.

"I had to ask someone in the town square..." He sheepishly admits drawing an even more obnoxious laugh for your throat.

"Why were you looking for the lemon grove?"

"You don't remember?" He asks.

Even in your best memories of the beach, you never liked sand. The way it intrusively stuck to you, creeping its way into every nook and cranny made your skin crawl, but this beach was the expectation. You loved everything about this beach.

"Tell me something else." Zoro requests. His voice was softer than before- meeker after your supposed rejection.

You were still wrapped firmly in the swordsman arms, your head on his chest. Zoro's head had returned to rest on top of yours. A brisk breeze forced you closer to Zoro in search of warmth, the thin blanket almost whisked away at the gust. The sight drew a laugh from the pirate.

"Where would you be right now if you were home?"

The only location you could definitely think of was underneath the chief's thumb, but that surely couldn't be the answer the swordsman was looking for. It was hard to think of places in your village that still brought you joy. Places that hadn't been corrupted in the transition of power from your father to Lee.

"The lemon grove." You blurted out the second it came to you. There was a cheesy grin on your face while you reminisced. A grin that is met with a full blown smile from Zoro once he sees your joy. He leaned down to plant a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw.

"Yeah? Why is that your favorite place?" His breath brushed against your neck.

"My mom used to take me there, and we would have picnics in the summer. There's this huge swing we'd sit on. It's my favorite place in the whole world."

"All that you've seen of it?" Zoro jokes. He caught your wrist when you went to slap his chest. Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He rubbed his finger back and forth over yours after planting one last kiss to your cheek.

"Maybe you can show it to me? When we get you home?"

Lee had never in the six months you'd been married bothered to visit the lemon grove. Just knew it was a sacred space for you , a memento to your mother. This was the first time you're grateful for that. That in the chief's vast kingdom there could still be a place that could be just Zoro and yours.

"I would love that Zo."

You smiled before craning your neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

"I wanted to see your favorite place." Zoro admits once he sees you remember. "I thought it might give me some insight."

"Insight?" You parrot in confusion.

"You're hiding something from me." Zoro states plainly, drawing your eyes to him.

"You found out I'm married, what else can I be hiding Zoro?" Your voice trembles with exhaustion.

The swordsman narrows his eyes as he looks you over. That fury, and fire previously seen in the garden is long gone . All that remains is this inquisitive stare.

"I don't know, but you are... I wish you would let me help you."

"Help me-" There is a feigned smile painted on your lips. How could a pirate of the new world be so... heartening. Surely the horrors he has seen, far exceed the small misfortunes of your life.

"Zoro. I already told you to go. "

"If you looked at me and told me you didn't mean any of it I would've left. Sailed away and tried for the rest of my life never to think of you again, but you didn't. You told me you love me-"

"I do."

Zoro plops down onto the ash filled ground. He crosses his arms against his chest, and stares out at the rubble.

"Then I'm not leaving. Until you tell me what's going on, what's actually happening, I'm not going anywhere."

The way your heart swells at his proclamation is treacherous. Allowing yourself to be swooned by actions that could very well get the both of you executed. You almost think it's sweet, if it wasn't so stupid.

"Why do you care? Zoro I hurt you, why are you still chasing me?"

"... because I meant it when I said I love you. And I know you meant it too."

"You deserve someone better than me Zoro. Someone who won't hold you back, someone who won't hurt you, someone worthy of standing next to the world's strongest swordsman."

"I don't care what you think I deserve. That's not a decision for you to make." Zoro snaps.

"Zoro... " You sigh exasperatedly at his rebuttal. "Do you really think I won't hold you back? That you will still become the world's strongest swordsman if I'm standing next to you?"

"I don't think I will become the world's strongest swordsman if you aren't standing next to me."

There's a sharp breath forced into your lungs at his confession. How could he say that with such certainty. It has only been two months. The two of you should be able to forget each other. Move on as if none of this happened- but Zoro stands before you stating he doesn't know if his dream will come true without you. A dream he has been chasing his entire life. A dream you've only come privy to in the last 60 days.

"Tell me you don't love me- I'll go. If you look me in my eyes right now and say it, I'll leave." He challenges.

You search for the words on your tongue, though you cannot find them. No parts of you willing, or wanting to lie to the swordsman.

"I can't."

Zoro has kept his promise. The strawhat crew joining you and your husband for breakfast, lunch, and now dinner going on the third day in a row. You wonder what the pirate is waiting for? A confession? An outcry for help? Don't know what actions would be satisfactory enough to get him to sail away.

In all of those days Zoro has sat in that same seat, to the right of you at every meal. Some meals he would lightly brush his knees back and forth against yours. At others he would 'accidentally' knock his napkin off the table so he could pinch your thighs. In spite of your best efforts to forget the swordsman exists, he seems all too insistent on making his presence known.

"So Luffy, when do you think you and your crew will be leaving?" Lee asks. His voice does well to mask the irritation you can pin in the twitch of his eye. "We'd love to send you all off with a ball."

You suspect Lee's urging of the Strawhats' departure correlates to his growing suspicion of the swordsman. The chief may be many things, but naïve has never been one of them. He takes note of the way Zoro's eye never leaves you, regardless of whoever is speaking. How the swordsman just couldn't be bothered to feign interest whenever the chief commands the room. You had spent every one of these past nights disavowing your feelings for the swordsman.

"We're thinking soon- Wednesday at the latest." Nami answers before her captain has the opportunity to. He seems to wear a confused look that is soon dissipated by her scowl.

Two days.

Although you had trained yourself not to go looking for the swordsman, your eyes immediately fall onto him at the navigator's words. Your concern is met with raised bows, almost a silent challenge from the pirate.

Did he expect you to profess your love there at the dinner table? To look at your husband and gloat in the love you've been able to find? Neither are options being the choice was not yours. Lee has done a great job in ensuring you did not have any choices.

"Oh, I'll get the staff on preparations immediately. We will hold the ball tomorrow." Lee's smile is filled with pleasure.

His wife had returned home, and soon the guests he had been performing for would be on their way. Everything is on the road to being back to normal. Exactly how you remembered it. The thought sends a shiver down your body.

"Maybe y/n can take us to the shop to find a dress?" Robin suggests.

Lee is apprehensive about letting you go. Obvious from the way his smile falters at the archeologists suggestion. But he never could deny a pretty woman. Begrudgingly he agrees.

Part III

************************************************************************

A/N: Part three is in the works , I'm hoping to not go more than a week between chapters, but please don't hold me to that. The ADHD will make me a liar. Thank you to all the beautiful people who care about my work, and have so many kind words.

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass

#one piece #zoro roronoa #ronoroa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro roronoa x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #forgive me if i break you

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rafescurtainbangz · 4 months

Note

Can we get a dark jj too

Of course!!

I'd say this is darkish!JJ at best

+18 minor dni

700 words

Smut, language, pet names, jj is kinda wild with the gun, his girlfriend helps him Christen the gun, unprotected p in v

Read with caution

♡Lightly edited

Dark!JJ whose...

A little too excited about his new gun. He moves around his room stealthily, aiming at invisible bad guys as you read your book. “Don't you think it's a little much, Jayj? Do you really need a gun?” You ask wearily.

“‘Course I do, princess.” He gives you a smirk, cigarette dangling from his lips; nothing but some white boxers on his tanned body.

“Why though?”

“Protection, doll. Think of it like a condom. Yeah? Ya keep it in your pocket, just in case. Wouldn't wanna risk not having one of those. Same shit,” he chuckles raspily; twirling the gun around his finger.

“Is it loaded?” You whisper.

“Nah… Used all the bullets up this afternoon.”

“Doing what, JJ?”

“Shootin’ stuff.”

“Like…”

“Cans, mom. I was shooting cans with Pope, alright? What are you so worried about?” He chuckles as he saunters your way, ashing his cigarette out on your metal bed frame. He turns his hat backward as he leans in a little closer, giving you a sweet kiss. “I know what you're gonna say-”

“You, Jayj. M’worried about you. Why would you all of a sudden need a gun?”

“I’ve always needed a gun,” he mumbles. “And, could you stop bringin’ down the room? It's fine. It's fine. Alright? Nothin’ to worry about. Papa J is safe. Even safer now. One regret, though… One big ole regret. Never got to christen this thing.”

“Christen your gun… How do you do that?” You ask, apprehensively.

“With good pussy,” he chuckles; his response making your heart race as you puzzle together what he wants to do with your help.

“It's not loaded… Like - Are you sure?” You ask, weakly; feeling a steady pulse between your thighs, terrified but excited all at the same breath.

“You don't trust me?” He gives you a crooked smile; lifting the gun up to his head, pulling the trigger. You hear the clinking of metal on metal making you gasp. “So… We good? You gonna help me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah-” He pushes you back on the mattress, flipping your skirt before you can change your mind. JJ loops his fingers around the string of your panties; tugging them away.

You feel the chill of the metal against your warm skin as JJ traces the gun higher and higher. Goosebumps spread across your body as he reaches your inner thigh; making you draw in slightly. “Relax, sweetness. You're safe. Alright?” He mumbles as he crawls a little closer.

“Fuckkk,” he moans as the gun hits your slick, gliding through your folds. He plays a little more, collecting your essence on the muzzle. JJ swirls the tip gently on your clit, watching as you whimper and moan below him. Your eyes widen as he moves lower, assuming what’s to come. “Uh - Jayj? I… Um,” you stammer as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“My cock’s bigger,” he rasps; giving you a little wink before pressing it inside, making you toss your head back.

“Shit, JJ,” you gasp.

“My girl likes it. Huh?”

He lowers himself to your lips as he strokes nice and slow. Your tongue greets his; reeling as he swallows moan after moan.

You feel him draw it out completely, eyeing the weapon glazed with your wetness. “Beautiful,” he groans. “For you.” He extends it your way, your hand trembles as you take it off his. JJ rolls to his back, working his boxers off his hips, tossing them to the side. “Co’mere, darlin’,” he croons.

You hover over his rock-hard cock, gun clasped in your other hand. “Now what, Jayj?” You smile. He clasps your hips, lowering you slowly down on his length until you’re fully sat.

“Look at you,” he praises. His baby blues brimming with lust. “Fuck. You look good.” JJ’s hands rest on the fullness of your hips, looking at you hungrily as his tongue glides along his bottom lip. “Let me taste it.”

“Jayj…”

“C’mon,” his lips part ever so slightly.

The gun passing his lips. JJ sucks off your slick; eyes rolling back as a deep moan rumbles in his chest. His eyes flutter shut, sucking all the way back to the tip. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as you rest the piece down on the comforter. He smacks your ass roughly, soothing the sting with his heavy hands as he grips your ass. “That's how it's done, baby.”

JJ reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, towing you close. “How'd that feel?” He whispers as his lips graze yours slowly.

“Good,” you giggle breathily; still riding an indescribable high. You start to wind your hips, grinding on his cock as he smiles against your lips.

“Just another reason I needed that gun, Princess.”

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lorebite · 1 year

Text

HERO OF THE DAY | L.K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could only wonder where you went wrong with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to talk to you, Lieutenant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More training never hurt—right?”

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

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

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

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

“You really think I can make the cut?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “We all have our vices.”

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

“Let me see your hands.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you stop me then?

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

“You were watching me.”

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

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

“That’s enough.”

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

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

He bit his lip. “Yes, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking pathetic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please—please, Miss. I—I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S—so rough. Mhm!” He whimpered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m coming with you.”

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please be careful.”

You nodded. “Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s in the interrogation room.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus, (Y/N)—I was so worried.”

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

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

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

“Leon, I promise. I’m fine.”

“What the hell even happened out there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you trust me?”

He nodded. “I do. Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Leon—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this – what is all this about?”

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

“It’s nothing.” He murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can explain.”

“Then fucking explain.”

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

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

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

“No. I—I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leon—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At last, you nodded sheepishly. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything, honey.”

“Please never cut your hair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Still here.”

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

“You’re amazing.” The smile on his face was broad as he spoke, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You rolled your eyes with a ghost of a smile on your lips.

“I mean it.” His eyebrows raised, giving you a stern nod. “You are amazing. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You sat a gentle hand against his cheek. “What are you doing to me, Kennedy?”

A cheeky, lopsided smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to yours. His fingers slipped from your face to your hair, brushing through it with care but that playful expression was ever persistent on his face.

“Right now? Probably blowing your mind.”

You rolled your eyes again but a chortle erupted in your throat, making Leon laugh with you in return. He traced his pinky finger over your lips, teasing them apart as his eyes became transfixed by them; his own mouth parted slightly as if in anticipation of another kiss. He looked back up in your eyes once more.

“I just want you so bad right now.” He whispered, his voice a low scratchy rasp, waking goosebumps down your spine. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask for. I just—”

You interrupted him with a kiss, holding the side of his neck to bring him even closer. His content sigh flitted against your mouth as he melted in your embrace. When you pulled away to look at him again, his bright blue eyes were half-closed and smoldering with lust.

“I want you, too.” You smiled.

Leon gave a quiet laugh, his cheeks bright with pink. “You do? You sure?”

You nodded and his smile widened even more. He began speaking something but the sudden spike of excitement in his voice made the words string together in a mess of incomprehensible words as he stood to his feet to rid himself of his clothes. You chuckled as you watched him discard the layers without even looking, an infectious grin carving his face in two.

An amused smirk curved your lips as Leon climbed over you again. He blushed furiously upon noticing that devilish, teasing look in your eyes. He laughed breathlessly, running his nails over the side of his flushed cheek.

“Don’t you dare tease me about this.”

You laughed more loudly. “I didn’t even say anything.”

He leaned down with a faint smile, his eyes flickering over your face as he squeezed your thighs tightly between his long fingers.

“I know that look, sweetheart. You don’t need words to drive me crazy.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking. A playfully stern look crossed his features, his fingers slowly reaching higher for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your stomach.

“See? You’re doing it right now.”

“Christ, Leon!” You exclaimed through another fit of laughter.

Leon’s gaze softened again, his thumbs brushing over your exposed ribs, his lips curled into a dreamy smile. “You have no idea how much I love it when you call me by my name.”

A gentle smile turned your mouth as you drank him in – as if you were looking at him for the first time. You pressed your fingers gingerly against his face, tracing a borderless map across his smooth skin, brushing your fingertips over his lips, his nose, every line, every crevice. He smiled down at you as your touch wandered his features, making a face at you once your eyes met his again.

“I can’t believe my luck.” You whispered with an endeared smile.

Leon nodded his head, a mischievous smirk sat in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me neither. I mean, let’s face it. I’m quite the catch.”

“Shut up.” You scolded gently, your voice roiling with a small chuckle.

“Make me.”

A wicked smile tugged at your lips as you buried your fingers in his hair and forced his lips upon yours. His small delicate moan of surprise stifled against your mouth before he gave into you with a small murmur, his fingers caressing your cheeks as he reciprocated the kiss. Then he giggled and leaned away just enough to speak again, his breath one with your own.

“Alright. Point taken.”

You gave an easy laugh, shaking your head, your fingers still threaded in his hair. Leon smiled down at you again, a much more gentle, sincere one that made your heartbeats stutter.

He slid his hand over your torso, slowly making his way up to your chest. Two of his fingers slipped beneath your sports bra, soothing over the curve of your breast before his nails grazed your nipple, drawing a soft gasp through your lips.

A glint flashed in Leon’s eyes at the sound – a sweetly inquisitive light. His pupils were wide, like two pools of ink; but the mirth was laden there somewhere in those depths, leaping forth through the burning lust. It made his face soften once more as he peered up at you, a tender yet impish smile curling his lips. He moved his hand again, his touch picking up in confidence as he swiped his fingers over your nipple once more.

Another small sigh of pleasure escaped your lips and all of a sudden, Leon was brimmed whole with the need to put his lips to your skin again. He pushed his mouth against your ribs, his tongue flickering out to claim a taste as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin. Then he remained there, his lips trailing a wet path up to the middle of your breasts before his fingers began peeling your sports bra back.

You let him unravel you even more, carefully prying the tight fabric away from your skin. He stared down at your exposed body with his mouth parted in awe. His tongue swiped over his lips before he surged forward again, driven by a need that he rendered to your breasts, taking each nipple with renewed fervor.

Your chest arched into his touch, moaning breathlessly as he began moving towards your neck, his face practically burying itself in your skin with how hard he was pressing his mouth onto you. His kisses were much less forgiving now, fluttering from his lips with bruising intensity, as if each lustful stroke meant to strip your soul down more and more.

Leon raised his mouth to your ear, his breath warm and uneven against your hair. “God, I need you,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice no longer bearing its previous hint of airiness, a rich beckoning of desire taking its place instead. “I need you so fucking bad.”

The breath knotted taut in your throat as you searched for words. You nodded fervently, moaning something incoherent before you rasped your agreement, weaving your fingers through his hair to push his face deeper against your neck, pulling a sharp breath from his lips.

He thumbed your sides as he glanced down between your bodies, his temple pressed to your collarbone, he lifted his hips just enough to position his hard cock between your thighs. His tip pushed gently against your entrance and a soft groan escaped him as though he was already too sensitive.

“Is this okay?” He paused to meet your eyes again; his face so close, his nose bumped against yours as he shifted his head.

You nodded with a reassuring smile, coiling one arm around his shoulder as he squirmed ever so slightly, bringing him closer to yourself. A trembling breath flitted through his flushed lips once his hips thrust forward gingerly, the movement slow and cautious, yet his cock finally managed to slip through your sopping cunt.

Another heated groan rumbled in Leon’s throat once he burrowed himself deep inside you, the noise quickly morphing into a desperate, breathless moan. He had to stop for the briefest moment to gather himself, his breaths already short and labored.

“Oh, my god,” he whined softly, readying himself to move. His face was nestled in your neck, his mouth pressed to you with every single breath flickering like a hot spark against your skin. “You feel amazing. You feel so amazing.”

Your walls burned deliciously as they molded around his cock, the sensation rousing a satisfied noise from deep within your chest. His entire body was so incredibly warm and the weight of him pushing down onto you was nothing but pleasant; his skin was smooth beneath your gentle fingertips, a sheen of sweat glistening along his neck. He trembled like a leaf as though any moment, his threads were going to come undone.

When Leon began to move, he pushed into you with deliberate care; each thrust was slow but each sank deeply within you, drawing through your walls like a match engulfing in flames. He downed sharp gulps of breath, each exhale then leaving him in quivering wisps. He whimpered softly under your ear, his fingers pressing indents into your hips. He simply refused to pick up his speed.

His words came rushing through his warm mouth. He kept murmuring incoherently under his breath, the sentences – if you could even hear a proper one, for that matter – twisted into high moans and shaky whimpers as soon as they toppled over his lips. He was a mess. It was pure evident that he was teetering on the brink already. And with how you kept clenching so tightly around him, his will to hold himself at bay was quickly fading.

“Oh, baby… oh, baby…” He kept chanting hoarsely in your ear, the words never finding a fruition, the sentences never fully realized. But even you could tell now: he was close.

You wound your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to yourself; your fingers moved to his hair again, coiling tightly through the soft locks. Leon whined deliriously into your neck before he raised his mouth to press it clumsily upon yours, his breathless noises flitting against your tongue as it flicked coyly at his.

The movement of his hips have become erratic, almost shaky, his pace only slightly faster now. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, the skin beneath his fingertips beginning to protest the pressure but the ache only stoked the pleasure building to crescendo within your core.

“Fuck—I’m so close,” Leon groaned. “Oh, god, I can’t hold myself back anymore.”

You pulled his face to yours again, your lips colliding roughly with his; and you whispered through the kiss, “go on then. Cum for me, baby.” To which he shook his head vigorously.

“No, no. I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He slowed his speed without waiting for your objection, returning to plowing deep thrusts inside you instead. He grunted with every effort, sweat rolling down the side of his face. You could see this was taking more out of him than he let on. He scrunched up his face, his teeth sinking into his lip. He was just so close. And it was taking every shred of will within him to not just empty his load inside you right then and there.

“Come on, baby. What are you doing?” A soft frown curled your brows. “I want you to cum.”

You glided your fingers over his back, caressing the skin along his spine. You cooed a string of encouragements to him but he continued to shake his head at you, his body practically vibrating against yours now. You held his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were half-lidded and shiny, his breaths leaving him in short rapid bursts.

“Leon—listen to me. You’re gonna be good for me and cum. Alright?” He didn’t respond immediately and the small frown on your face turned into a stern raise of a brow. “Are you gonna be good?”

Leon gave a resigned whine and nodded his head at last. “Fine. Okay. Fine. I’ll be good.” He sucked in a quick breath and finally, he upped his speed once more. “I’ll be good for you. Fuck.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want you to let yourself go for me.”

He nodded eagerly again, his lips, once more, seeking refuge against the soft skin of your neck. He bade your ears whimper upon whimper – those sweet delicate sounds that tickled your senses, growing more and more pronounced the closer he crept on the edge. He continued to shake and you had to wonder if he was still fighting against his own body.

“You can go faster than that. Come on. I know you can do it.”

A groan escaped from somewhere steep in his throat and now you knew, the last of his will had finally ebbed. He began fucking into you with much less reverence, the small cot beginning to squeak beneath the both of your weights. You arched your neck as a sudden tide of pleasure broke over your body, your mouth parting for a soft moan to flee.

“Yeah, keep going like that. You’re doing so good.”

In response to your words, another breathless whine rushed through Leon’s teeth as he kissed along your throat, his hands rising to your sides and gripping you tightly against himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m so close again.” He moaned into your skin, his voice small and high-pitched, nearly breaking as it bounced lazily over those few words.

“I know, baby. I know. Don’t stop now. Just keep going.”

Leon groaned softly beneath your ear. His hips snapped against yours in a few short successions before his body grew suddenly still upon yours. A choked whimper rolled off his tongue, a desperate attempt to muffle himself as he prodded his face deeper into your neck again. His warm cum gushed through your folds, burying the seed within you as he continue to remain between your legs like that.

His breaths flickered sharp and heavy against your skin as he slowly came down, his grip over your body loosening ever so slightly. Once that blissful haze dissipated, his lips began tracing your neck again; but this time, the kisses were much softer, bearing a sated gentleness that made your heart swell with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him mumble, his face refusing to lift from the crook of your shoulder. Then he finally leaned away to meet your eyes; his cheeks sweetly red, an adorable crooked grin curling the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You chuckled, your fingers dancing coyly on the back of his neck, toying with the silky wisps of hair plastered to his damp skin.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you reassured him but then, a wicked smirk grew across your lips. “You’re way too cute though.”

He rolled his eyes, scoffing softly, with that ever persistent smile still adorning his face. You snickered when his blush deepened, spreading all the way to his ears; and he gave a loud embarrassed groan, hiding his face against his own arm.

“Stop it,” he whined.

Your laughter grew in volume as you reached for his chin, holding it gently between two fingers before you turned his face towards yours again. His eyes were glassy and bright, a translucent shade as they peered down into yours with a lingering hint of sheepishness.

“You’re so fucking cute,” you repeated, your voice a low growl through gritted teeth as if your heart couldn’t contain all the fondness it bore for your rookie.

Leon shook his head slowly, a small giggle bursting from his lips. His eyes were twinkling when he looked at you again, his lips giving into a doting smile.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You gave another chuckle in response before he rest his head down against your chest. He took in a deep content breath, his fingers falling to your waist to begin trailing aimlessly over the skin. Your heart thumped slowly beneath his ear and he couldn’t help the smile that overcame his lips.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” He asked, his eyes slowly falling close, his voice barely a mumbled whisper. “This is… nice.”

“Of course.” You smiled when he gave you a short hum in return and you looked down at him, noticing the calm and the sweet innocence which had now replaced everything else on his face. You ran your fingers along his neck again. “You didn’t even hear me, did you?”

He was already fast asleep.

Something loud stirred Leon from his sleep; an obnoxious wailing of a siren that startled him awake. It took him a moment to gather his surroundings, finding himself still naked from the night before, tangled in your thin white sheets. He blinked drowsily and frowned at the realization of your absence and then panic began to set in his stomach.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He nearly staggered to the floor in his haste to get out of the cot, clumsily reaching for his clothes that were scattered around the small room. His breaths were already short and labored as he got dressed and rushed out into the hallway, grimacing once the blaring noise embraced him whole.

The only thought on his mind was to find you.

He took off in the direction of the mess hall, his eyes widening in surprise when a group of armed soldiers hurried past him, bellowing demands over the shrieking noise. This wasn’t just a regular drill, Leon quickly realized, his cheeks tingling from the cold wash of dread. He caught up to the commanding officer whose face was red with sweat and distorted into a scowl.

“Kennedy! The hell are you doing here?” He yelled gruffly.

“What is going on?”

Leon flinched as the loud echo of gunshots rang out through the space, instinctively grasping his head between his hands. A light tremor broke over his body, his heart racing at the very possibility of something truly horrifying.

“We’re on lockdown. Get yourself to the hangar. NOW.”

He nodded fervently in response and began running again, finding another group of soldiers who were headed in the same direction and followed them out to the warm air of the early morning. The dawn was slowly breaking in the distant horizon as he made it to the hangar.

It was easy to make out your frantic voice above the agitated chatter in the room. You were yelling about something but this time, your anger was turned towards another high ranking soldier. He was a much older man. Someone he could tell to be your superior. However, that didn’t stop you from leaning close to his face to scream at him.

“Corporal, with all due respect, that’s the worst choice in this situation.” Leon heard you spit angrily as he stopped in the front of the hangar, standing just ahead of the rest of the crowd of soldiers. “We can’t use the recruits as fucking bait.”

The older soldier straightened his back, his chest puffed out, leaning forward in your space in return to your defiance; a snarl was set deep in his features, his tall domineering stature doing very little to quell your confidence. You didn’t back down. Not even slightly. You held his gaze with as much fortitude even though you had to tip your head back to keep glaring at him.

“We need all hands on deck, (L/N). My word is final. Hand out the damn guns!”

Leon walked closer to you as Corporal distanced himself. He put a careful hand on your shoulder, his heart skipping a beat when you flinched in response to his touch. Your wide eyes met his immediately, a gentleness growing amidst the feral fury within them as soon as he offered you a small but strained smile.

“You’re okay, Lieutenant?” He asked softly, leaning closer to your shoulder. “What’s going on?”

He watched quietly as you heaved an exasperated sigh and knead your eyes before you turned fully to face him.

“Banshee broke out of her restraints at some point in the night. We’re trying to take her down but—”

Leon frowned, his grip tightening slightly on your shoulder, waiting patiently for you to explain but anxiety was threading deeply through his body like thorny vines, clutching painfully at his pounding heart. You sighed again and a speck of that previous anger returned to your voice once you started speaking again.

“But we dealt some fucking casualties already. Now somebody,” you sneered begrudgingly, throwing a sharp thumb over your shoulder at Corporal, “came up with the idea to dispatch the recruits.”

His pulse throbbed in his ears as he listened to you, a soft frown weighing on his features, trepidation sinking deep in the pit of his stomach. Eventually, he let his hand fall slowly back to his side and managed another pursed smile.

“I can do this—”

“NO!” Leon cringed at the unexpected raise of your voice. You grabbed his shoulder and peered deep into his face. You looked scared. More scared than he’d ever seen you. Your eyes were blown wide and your pupils were trembling; a thin veil of glassiness coated them, making them glisten, almost as if you were tearing up. “I cannot – I will not let you. You’ll stay here.That’s an order.”

He smiled again, much more kindly this time, a warm look in his eyes. He squeezed your hand on his shoulder with his reassuringly, before raising his fingers to touch your face.

“With all due respect, if we’re going to fight then we’re fighting together. Besides,” his lips curved into a warm smile, “I’m not letting you go out there without me.”

You shook your head in disbelief as you heard your own words thrown back at you, tears welling up in your eyes. Leon fought the urge to engulf you in his arms right then and there, his chest gripping with ache at the sight of your distraught face. His thumb began brushing over your cheek.

“I can handle this, I promise. Let me come with you. I feel safer that way.”

Your fists curled tightly as you averted your eyes, gritting your teeth. You were in war with yourself, caught in the crossfire of your heart and your mind – the urge to protect Leon and the sensibility of letting him take care of himself. At last, you let a sharp exhale through your nose and gave him a defeated yet determined glance, your head dipping in a small nod. Then you, albeit hesitantly, handed him a gun.

“Stick close to me. Am I clear?”

Leon smiled, letting the gun mold comfortably in his arms. “Yes, Miss.”

“Alright.” You turned your attention towards the room. “We do this as Corporal planned. Everyone, assume your positions.” You unsheathed your own pistol and cocked it with a dirty glare. “We’re taking down the mutant.”

A deafening silence surged through the hangar as recruits sought their assigned groups, their thudding heels against the ground the only noise tearing through the thick air of uneasiness.

Leon stood closer to you, his skin crawling with goosebumps as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. This was really happening. The only thing soothing his nerves was your mere presence beside him, filling him with a calming sense of security even as you stood with just one good arm to go into the battle with; the pistol sat in your palm as if it could belong to you alone.

You turned to him, your face grim as you addressed him once again. “It’s on sight, Kennedy. You see Banshee, you shoot. And you don’t aim at anything but her head. Understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” He nodded curtly, donning a courageous look as he cocked his own weapon.

“Good.” You turned to the crowd once more, yelling much more authoritatively this time when you spoke again, “we’re moving out!”

Everyone moved quietly. It was as though their feet were gliding upon air as the formation of the recruits hurried outside towards the base, the first rays of the morning light shedding a blanket of pale gold over the moving bunch.

Leon trailed close behind you the entire way, watching you make gestures with your hand once near the building, ordering the formation to dispense and cover as much ground as possible. Then you turned over your shoulder to look at him as Corporal joined your side.

“We’re going in. Stay on guard.”

You nodded once at your superior and without hesitation, he kicked the double doors open. Your small group rushed inside, enfolded once again by the shrieking siren. Disembodied demands were hurled constantly, the words faint over the thunderous noise as you led the way inside.

Gunshots reverberated through the halls, distant agonized screams bouncing off of the white walls. Mutilated bodies littered the once pristine tiled floors. The thick stench of blood was overbearing, its sight a constant nauseating presence.

Leon was overwhelmed. His mind kept flashing back to Raccoon City, his thoughts racing with those tainted memories that were quickly riling him up. His grip began to shake on his gun, his heart practically hammering in his throat and all of a sudden, he froze. The sight of the pile of carcass through a corridor was enough to lock him up inside his own brain.

“LEON!”

He heard the yell too late, only coming to when another shot was fired. He recoiled as the unexpected sound ripped through the fog of his thoughts, his eyes snapping to yours. You grabbed his arm and hauled him to a safe corner as bullets hailed down upon you.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, slowly gathering his bearings again.

His eyes searched you and a frown quickly formed at his brows. You slumped to the floor with a hand clutched tightly at your stomach; blood seeped through your fingers, spreading rapidly over your shirt like ink. You were shaking, panting, and your eyes were wide with panic.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Leon dropped to his knees beside you on the ground, his voice low but frantic as he took in the dire state you were in. “Stop, stop. Calm down, sweetheart. Please.”

He pressed his hands over your wound, trying his damndest to ignore your shallow erratic breaths, the awareness of what had happened dawning on him. His broad, terrified eyes staring at the gaping void in your stomach that continued to gush with blood.

“Shhh… shhh… please, baby. Take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. You—you’re going to be okay.” His eyes raised to yours, sweat beaded at his brow. He spoke in a hushed yell, “why the hell did you do that for?”

Your panting finally slowed when you tackled the initial bout of panic but your body continued to tremble. Leon chewed his lip as he watched you; your eyes were lidded. He could see the hard movement of your chest as you heaved every breath with difficulty. This didn’t look good. He struggled to shove down his mounting terror as he stared helplessly at you, his hands still covering your wound with pressure. Warm tears began stinging the corners of his vision.

“Leon…” You muttered weakly, reaching your bloody fingers to his face. “I’m so sorry. I…” You trailed off, never finishing that train of thought.

He leaned into your touch as your hand palmed his cheek, gritting his teeth and blinking back the downpour of tears.

“I’m – I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Please stop talking.” He said hoarsely.

“It’s okay. I’m not scar—” You were caught off by a rattling cough, blood spitting through your lips. “I’m not scared of dying. I’m content. For once.”

Leon held your wrist and clutched your hand against his chest, his tears wetting his lashes, his nostrils pink and flaring.

“Take care… alright? You’re my – you’re my favorite vice.”

Vices, vices. Of course. You were struggling to speak, to move, to breathe. He could see it. His heart sank when more blood trickled down your lip. He held the side of your face as your neck began to go limp, lifting your head and forcing you to meet his eyes again.

“Don’t you die on me. Please.”

You managed a small smile and gave him a weak nod of your head. “It’s gonna be okay.” A futile attempt to comfort him as you squeezed his hand with the last sliver of your strength.

His bloody fingers raked through your hair, unable to do anything else but watch the glimmer fade in your eyes. Once your grip over his hand was gone, he knew that you were, too. Yet, the revelation dropped like an anchor in his stomach. His hold tightened in your hair, moving your head from side to side as if he was trying to wake you from a deep sleep.

“(Y/N). Please, no!” His voice wavered as he spoke. “Oh. Oh, god…”

But he had no time to mourn; a hand soon found his shoulder and forced him back to his feet. His eyes broadened as he watched you get farther and farther away from him, his feet moving against his own will.

“Let’s go, rookie.” He heard Corporal whisper to him in a gentle tone – one unheard of him until then.

Leon’s eyes fleeted over the older man’s face. The wrinkles between his brows were drawn deeply, his lips pursed as if he was holding himself back from speaking anything more. But the heartbreak glistened in his dark eyes as he stared straight ahead, his hand still wrapped securely around his arm.

“We have to get her.”

“We will.” Corporal responded with a firm nod. “But first, we survive.”

And survive they did.

It was a few hours of sheer hell. Many were slain and, in the end, Banshee escaped after nearly wiping out the entire base. However, Leon stood among his remaining comrades outside in what was once the training field, taking in the ruin which has become of the base. Smoke wafted over the white roof of the building, uncoiling like a black serpentine, a taunting dance of defeat in the clear sky as the sun slowly set over the horizon.

Leon fell to his feet in exhaustion; and as he laid there on the dirt, staring at the fading skies overhead, the weight of reality finally crashed down over his head. So many great soldiers dead. So many lives felled. And you. He drew a deep, quivering breath.

You.

The last few months of training were an uneventful blur. The surviving recruits were moved to a different base and Leon felt utterly lost. For the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do. It was as though he had survived Raccoon City all over again. But this time around, there was no you to help him navigate, to forget. Even if only briefly.

Alas, he managed to finish those months that seemed to drag on end. He knew that was what you would’ve wanted from him; to live on – hence why you weren’t there anymore to see him graduate. But if that was all it took to help him through day after day, he was going to hold onto it like his lifeline.

After graduation, the first place Leon visited was that same city you had promised to go with him one day, to show him around the ruins and rubbles of what once pledged a great change to him. The same place that led him down a spiral instead, a cursed shadow now hanging over his head which only seemed to grow thicker and thicker.

He wasn’t going to miss it. Not this damn city. And certainly, not your absence. As he emerged slowly on the brink of Raccoon City, returning from his visit with one of his old commanding officers, he turned to look at the demolished skyline one last time as the first winter snow began to fall, the white beads glowing shyly against the vast darkness of the night.

The wait was over now. He could finally go out there and leave all of this behind.

His warm sigh left him in a pale cloud as he slowly turned away and towards the flaring headlights of the military truck behind him. Without looking back, he walked to the car and slid into the backseat. He met the driver’s eyes through the rearview mirror and gave him a small nod.

“I’m ready to go.”

He leaned his elbow against the car door as the engine spurred to life, his eyes momentarily flickering to his side at the box of his belongings, that fresh and young pot of plant which was once yours sat atop.

A faint smile shadowed over his lips as he picked the plant up with one hand and held it under the passing blur of streetlights that poured inside the vehicle. He stroked one of its leaves between two fingers, his smile turning downward as he sighed again.

It’s gonna be okay, he thought solemnly to himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #re2 #resident evil x reader #resident evil leon #resident evil 2 #leon x reader #resident 2 remake #resident evil #re2r leon #leon scott kennedy #leon resident evil #leon kennedy

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madlad-sadgal · 10 months

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Y'all liked it so here's a few more things I noticed in my watching of Nimona (again).

Nimona Spoilers!

We get a small section of Ball's innocence wall, and we see that his primary suspect is none other than Thodeus "Todd" Sureblade. Also, Blackheart is used everywhere, most likely as a nod to the comic, but also as what the media has dubbed this new villain, as we do as a society in real life. Giving certain famous serial killers names is an example.

Nimona did some drawings and said it was because she wanted her resume to pop, but it was most likely because she can't write or read as no one really took the time to explain it or teach her.

"Lay low until we RISE LIKE A FIERY PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES TO OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT!" Nimona not only spoiled her shifting into a phoenix to save the realm from the canon, but also her coming back (rising from her ashes like a phoenix)

We get another shot of Bal's innocence wall, and there we see a place where he circled in red "Who has the ressources for a laser like that?" And honestly, to me, it reminded me of what the canon did, which would explain the Director, since she clearly has access to the canons. The laser in Bal's sword, the laser in her staff, and finally the laser from the canon. Everything was her.

The Director was most likely acting overly dramatic when talking to Bal because she wanted to reinforce the guilt, and maybe even gaslight him into thinking it was his fault.

As the Director is leaving, we can see Nimona sneaking in as a mouse in the bottom left corner.

When we see the beat up knights, in the upper left corner, you can see a knight stuck in a vending machine, which I just found funny.

The light reflecting off Nimona's eyes, indicating her clear difference from everyone else.

When Nimona throws her axe, it hits a knight in the background who then falls off a ledge and falls down a few stories, so she may have actually killed someone.

We can clearly see Ambrosius go through so many emotions when he sees Bal again; relief that he's alive and he didn't kill him, guilt for his arm when he glanced at the prosthetic, confusion when Nimona calls him Nemesis, and surprise when she drags Bal away. Also, when she drags him into the closet, we get a short shot of Ambrosius half way through unsheathing his sword.

Bal's "Did you see the way he looked at me?" Being a parallel to Nimona's "Did you see the way that little girl looked at me?"

Nimona quite literally rips a pole in half and bends it over the door to keep it closed, showing a great amount of strength.

The "You're gonna die in this closet!" Joke that we all catches but I still wanted to point out because it's funny.

As Nimona is falling through the floors as a whale, she tells us that Todd canonically has a small dick ("Cold in here?")

I saw this pointed out once, but still wanted to as well, but Nimona says that she spruced up the Lair by making it more evil, but she quite literally adds Christmas lights, showing her childish side.

When we get another shot of the new murder wall, we can see the picture of Todd again, except Nimona drew a fist punching him in the face.

That's what I have so far. Might do more if y'all like this!

#nimona #nimona movie #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #ballister x ambrosius #director

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prythianpages · 2 months

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Give 'Em Hell | Part Two

beron's daughter OC x eventually Azriel | Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Some of the country folk of Autumn are protesting Beron's rule and there is talk of rebellion. The Phoenix. And Beron begins to wonder if the enemy is among his inner circle.

Warnings: bullying, violence, harsh insults thrown oc's way/ brief mentions of sexual assault (groping)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took me forever to update. This has been in my drafts since November omg. I got this idea/motivation to write this at a time where I was at the peak of my female rage lol and now things in my life are better. However, I did always want to write a character who is "evil." Using quotation marks because that's still up to be decided on. For this OC, I'm drawing huge inspiration from Game of Thrones, especially with Daenary's character. Also, I know that birth order does not dictate who inherits the title High Lord but in this fic and probs in canon too, Beron hates the idea of Autumn having a High Lady.

Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.

Deaths, heartbreaks and traumatic events may pass but the memory lives on, lingering like a haunting and tormenting spirit. The Pryalis family has been threatened to become a distant memory, torturing the remaining patriarch of what was once.

Once a strong and powerful big household, the Pryalis family was now reduced to just one. Edmund Pryalis. Or so he thought.

Among the wreckage of his beloved son’s home, remained a young female. She had been found, a couple of feet away from the house at the edge of the surrounding forest, with signs of struggle etched onto her pale body, bruised and scarred. She had been trembling and terrified when Edmund had approached her, demanding to know who she was and what had happened. He had not been prepared for the words that had broken off from her quivering lips.

She was his son’s bastard daughter. His bastard granddaughter.

Edmund had not questioned it. His son was known for being disloyal to his wife. It was inevitable to not sire a bastard child and if his son’s scandalous endeavors were not enough to convince him, the female strongly resembled his late wife and daughter with her sun-kissed auburn hair, high cheekbones and striking eyes. However, the color of her eyes were not the infamous emerald green the Pryalis family was known for but a chestnut brown instead.

If it weren’t for the deaths of his son and family, his heirs, he would’ve done Prythian a favor and rid it of one more bastard. But he didn’t. He refused to allow the Pryalis name to fade into memory and so now there were two.

“May their ashes rise and flames persist in eternity.”

The air carried the scent of damp earth as the leaves rustled with the wind, whispering their final farewells to the departed souls resting beneath. Edmund pulled his gaze from the tombstone below and to the young weeping female. He gestured for her to follow him and they silently made their way to the entrance of the cemetery, where a carriage awaited them.

As Edmund placed a foot on the carriage step, a sudden realization compelled him to pause. There was one more question he had yet to ask of his bastard granddaughter. “What is your name?”

“Emilia.” The female had replied.

And if Edmund had bothered to turn around, he would’ve caught the flames flickering in her eyes.

“Two will soon become three until there are finally eight but one will not be true to you and only one shall come to be.”

Beron found himself surrounded by the weight of the soothsayer’s prophecies, uttered nearly three centuries past, as he surveyed the grandeur of his Autumn Court's council chamber. There was more truth to the soothsayer’s words than he’d like to admit. To his left, his four eldest sons occupied their appointed seats, a testament to the continuation of his lineage. On his right, the key figures of his advisory council – chief advisor, spymaster, master of coin, and army commander – assumed their positions

His two younger sons were away, honing their skills in the art of war, preparing for a future fraught with uncertainties. And Lucien…

Well, Lucien was doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t and Beron couldn’t bring himself to care for it at this moment. There were other pressing matters to attend to.

"Mistwood grows restless," Fenrik, the spymaster, began cautiously. "Whispers of an uprising persist, and while rumors can be as fleeting as the wind, this tale echoes persistently…”

Beron's piercing gaze bore into Fenrik, a silent command for the truth to be unveiled.

“I am uncertain whether it is a person or a group but there's mention of a Phoenix. A harbinger of a brighter tomorrow. Faced with the specter of an impending famine, some villagers may be swayed to rebellion against our presence."

A tense silence falls upon the room as Fenrik’s words hang in the air like a foreboding mist. That is, until Eris, the heir to the Autumn Court, decides to break it.

“Perhaps, we should provide them with enough sustenance to quell their thirst to riot,” Eris suggests, his voice resonating with wisdom beyond his years. Beron should be proud but instead, his eyes narrow as he assesses the situation.

“Gain their trust so they remain loyal to you, High Lord,” Edmund, Beron’s chief advisor, agrees as he waves his hand, beckoning his cupbearer forward.

Eris’s eyes widen ever so slightly, lifting his gaze toward Edmund. It’s the first time the two have ever been in agreement. He then turns his head toward Edmund’s cupbearer, a spark of curiosity flashing in his amber eyes.

As the cupbearer delicately pours a substance, presumably more potent than wine given its acrid scent, Eris can’t help but wonder why Edmund subjects his own granddaughter to a servant role when she is beyond the age of marriage. Granted, Emilia is a bastard. But still his blood nonetheless. His only blood.

Edmund brings his cup to his lips and takes a swig. He sputters almost immediately, throwing his chalice to the floor and drawing everyone’s attention to him. The dark crimson liquid splatters onto the floor, staining the soft fabric of his granddaughter's dress. Emilia shrinks back, fear flashing across her features as Edmund shifts toward her with a scowl.

“This is not what I asked of you!” He seethes with furrowed eyebrows. “I asked for the russet elixir, not this.”

“I’m sorry, grandfather. I thought this was the russet elixir.”

Emilia drops her gaze, a frown tainting her soft features, as she presents the bottle of liquor to him. It is clearly labeled as crimson nectar. “You imbecile. Go back to your station,” Edmund orders hastily, no longer desiring a drink.

“Illiterate bastard,” Hunter mutters under his breath with a chuckle, elbowing Eris.

Eris does not humor his brother. Though his fingers tense around his own chalice, he maintains a stoic silence, his gaze following Emilia. She retreats to her designated place in the council chamber, head bowed low. Her silhouette merges seamlessly with the servants clustered around the table of refreshments.

“Let them starve.”

Eris’s gaze shifts back toward his father and he swears his heart skips a beat.

“But my High Lord–”

“I refuse to feed the mouths of potential traitors,” Beron interrupts his spymaster sharply yet his gaze is focused upon Eris, brown eyes shimmering with disappointment. “The seed for rebellion has already been planted. It does not matter if I send them sustenance or not, they may still revolt. I’ll turn the town of Mistwood into a lesson.”

Beron then rises to his feet, signaling that he will hear no more from his council for today. “Anyone who lends credence to this alleged Phoenix shall be branded as traitors and punished. No exceptions.”

Beron strides out of the room, the council trailing in his wake. Eris, however, lingers, reluctant to vacate his seat. He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, stomach filling with dread from the look Beron had given him before leaving. He sits there for what feels like an eternity but given the fact that some of his brothers remain, harassing Edmund’s poor granddaughter, it couldn’t have been for too long.

When Eris rises from his seat, he catches a glimpse of Oliver, his younger brother, trailing a hand a little too low down Emilia’s body. From where Eris stands, he could see Emilia’s every muscle tense under the unwanted touch and harsh words whispered into her ear. Yet, Emilia remains quiet, her gaze fixed forward, even as Oliver finally frees her of his torment.

Silver lines her dull brown eyes and Eris can’t help but pity the female. He knows the look on her face all too well. It's a reflection of the emotions he often carries within himself. Hatred. Fear. Anger.

The room is quiet, save for the measured cadence of Eris’s footsteps. They come to a stop right before Emilia, causing her brown eyes to widen in surprise. Still, she remains steadfast in avoiding eye contact with Eris.

“Lord Eris,” she addresses him, her voice a masterclass in practiced restraint, as though she has honed it over centuries of servitude.

“We should arrange for someone to teach you how to read.”

Emilia blinks, caught off guard and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability flickers in her dark eyes. It’s not the first time Eris has been kind yet she still can’t comprehend why he continues to express concern for her. She hesitates before regaining her composure and slowly lowers her gaze.

“Grandfather says reading will only taint the female’s mind and that I do not need to know how to read in order to fulfill my duty.”

“And what duty is that exactly?”

“I’m the last Pyralis female. I’m sure you can take a guess, my lord.”

Eris exhales heavily, as if he too was wearied by the harshness of her world. “Suit yourself then.”

For centuries, the Pyralis family stood as a formidable force, characterized by its size and strength. Even amidst the transformative shift in magical favor that propelled the Vanserra family to High Lordship, the Pyralis clan endured without faltering. True to their name, they rose from the ashes, mirroring the resilience of the Phoenix they were named after. They maintained their high status in politics, taking on the role as the Vanserra’s chief advisors. Speculation lingered that the only force capable of bringing down the Pyralis family was the family itself.

The Pyralis family's decline began long before Eris’s birth. Still, he couldn't help but reflect on the strange sight of witnessing such a once-mighty and expansive lineage reduced to a mere two living members.

It made him worry if the same grim fate would befall upon his own family.

“Mother’s tits, what happened to you?”

“Your brothers,” is all Emilia says followed by a huff, the small gust of frustration sending the dark red fringe framing her face tumbling forward like a curtain of shadows. Weariness etches across her features, shoulders slumping, allowing a glimpse beyond the facade she meticulously maintains.

Lucien furrows his brow in concern and gently reaches out to tuck the loose strand behind her ear. “You look like you’re in need of a pick me up,” he remarks, his russet eyes lighting up at the idea. “A little trip to Thornwood might lift your spirits.”

Emilia pauses, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m sure it’ll lift other things too.”

Lucien laughs, his lips twitching upwards into a grin. Though Thornwood sounds like a good idea, given the hard day she had, she recognizes why Lucien is more than eager to go. She knows him too well. As they step out of the forest house, he hooks his arm through hers and winnows them both to Thornwood before she could even question if it was safe to do so, given the current volatile state of the neighboring town, Mistwood.

Thornwood is a breath of fresh air.

Both Lucien and Emilia feel a sense of comfort as they fall into step beside each other. Lush orchards and vineyards surround the small town nestled in the countryside of Autumn, their branches heavy with golden and crimson fruits. They walk along the cobblestone pathways, leading to a central square where various vendors are selling goods. Residents, adorned in cozy layers to protect from the autumn winds, go about their daily routines with a sense of unhurried contentment.

An elderly female rests against the weathered water well, rattling a worn cup that holds a few gold marks toward any passersby. As Emilia walks by, the female’s eyes follow her and with a sudden urgency, she rattles her cup harsher.

“Something wicked this way comes,” she mutters, the words slipping from her cracked lips like an ominous whisper carried by the wind. “Something wicked this way comes…”

With a glare directed at the older female, Lucien steps around Emilia, shielding her from the female’s sharp gaze.

“Em!”

Emilia's head whips around, her guarded expression softening as her gaze fixes on a blonde figure drawing nearer with each passing second. Before she knows it, strong arms envelop her. Emilia finds herself wrapped in a comforting hug and returns the gesture.

"Hey, Jes," Emilia greets, the corners of her lips hinting at a rare smile.

"You haven’t come to visit in awhile. I was getting worried," Jesminda remarks, pulling away from the hug with a concern-laden expression.

Lucien, feeling neglected, huffs in mock offense. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Jesminda giggles, but she redirects her attention to Lucien, throwing her arms around him. He responds with equal enthusiasm, pulling her close and twirling her around, evoking a delighted squeal that he silences with an affectionate kiss.

“Gross,” Emilia comments, a slight grimace crossing her features.

Jesminda, despite Lucien's protest, untangles herself from his embrace. "Never been in love before?"

Emilia's gaze shifts to where Lucien and Jesminda now hold hands. "No, and I don’t plan on it." She pauses, her eyes lingering on the intertwined couple before she adds, "It’s not worth the price.”

“You say that now–”

"Yeah, yeah," Emilia cuts off Lucien before he delves into the cliché notion of finding the right person to fall in love with. Blah, blah, blah. She slips her hand into her pockets, withdrawing a handful of goldmarks and tossing them toward Lucien, who effortlessly catches them. "Go fetch us some apple cider, please?"

Once Lucien is out of earshot, Emilia turns to Jesminda with a cautious look. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."

"I'm not scared," Jesminda replies, her eyes scanning the town square before she leans in closer to her friend. "Just like I'm not scared to stand with Saoirse."

Something flickers in Emilia's eyes, and with a soft smile, Jesminda adds, "I love him."

“He’s the High Lord’s son,” Emilia whispers a bit too harshly for even her own liking yet Jesminda remains unfazed by the reminder.

“One of many,” Jesminda simply points out. “I’m sure he could spare one.”

Emilia sighs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Jesminda promises and then winks at Emilia. “I’m good at sneaking around.”

Emilia watches Jesminda's determined expression, a mixture of worry and reluctant acceptance in her own gaze. It’s not that Emilia doubts Jesminda. Lucien and Jesminda have kept their relationship secret for many years. Albeit, they often used Emilia as the perfect excuse to venture off together such as Lucien planned to do so tonight.

But, for Emilia, it's the haunting memory of past losses that casts a shadow over her protective instincts. She can't help but feel an innate need to protect her cherished friend, especially given the fact that she was the one who introduced Lucien to her. If something happened to Jesminda, it would be her fault.

Before Emilia discovered the truth of her heritage and was taken in by her father, it was Jesminda's family who she lived with. They plucked her from the harsh streets and took her in as if she was one of their own. A stark contrast to the way her blood family welcomed her. She wasn’t allowed to visit them after she moved into her father’s estate but now that she lived in the Forest house with her grandfather, it was easier to sneak off to visit them.

Lucien reappears, bearing three mugs of hot apple cider that smell like heaven. Emilia happily takes hers, savoring the steaming warmth that envelops her as she takes a measured sip.

“I’m going to find Brienne,” Emilia says and then she flashes the two a pointed look, dark eyes lingering on Lucien for a moment longer. “We can’t stay out too late tonight unless we want to raise concern.”

Beron's eyes were deep pools of darkness, simmering with a livid intensity that mirrored the turmoil within the realm. His hands were clasped behind his back. He stood by the window, an emblem of brooding power, his gaze following the departure of his best men on horseback toward Mistwood.

"There's a mole in this court," Beron declares, his voice cutting through the silence, and he turns abruptly to face Edmund. “And I won’t rest until I have their head on a spike.”

Edmund leans forward, concern etching lines onto his wearied features. "Do you have any suspects?"

"I have a few," Beron responds, his gaze piercing into the very soul of his chief advisor.

Edmund's eyes widen in disbelief and he shifts forward in his seat. "Are you accusing me, my High Lord?"

"Given your family history, I'd be a fool not to suspect you. The phoenix is your family's sigil."

"I have no desire for a coup d'état," Edmund retorts, a humorless laugh escaping him as he averts his gaze. His laugh morphs into a cough, eyebrows furrowing in pain as he brings a handkerchief to his mouth. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet Beron's. "What must I do to prove my loyalty to you?"

Before Beron could answer, the door to Edmund’s room opens. Emilia slips in and at the sight of the High Lord, a visible shiver runs through her, causing her to instinctively shrink back. With a harsh swallow, she bows her head in respect and then turns to address the older male.

“You called for me, grandfather?”

“You were out late last night,” Edmund glares at the younger female. “Again.”

“Let’s finish our conversation later this afternoon in my study.” Beron says and without acknowledging Emilia’s presence, he gracefully exits the room.

“I’m sorry, I was–”

“You went to go visit them, didn’t you?” Edmund interrupts sharply and when Emilia lowers her head, he rises from his seat. “I am your family. Your only family.”

“You are forbidden to go to Thornwood from now on.”

“But grandfather–”

“Have you not heard?” Edmund raises his voice. “The High Lord has sent his best guards to Mistwood to obliterate the growing threats and Thornwood is sure to follow.” His voice falters as he falls into another fit of coughing.

“You will stay here, where you are safe,” he manages to wheeze as he slumps back into his seat.

“Are you alright?” Emilia gasps out in horror.

She rushes to her grandfather, falling to her knees beside him. He brings his handkerchief once more to cover his cough. “I’m fine,” he huffs out breathlessly.

When his hand drops to his side and head falls back in exhaustion, Emilia notices the dark red stain on the light fabric. The sight pleases her more than it should and with his eyes closed, Emilia allows her mask to fall.

A faint smirk taints her lips and once again, there's that flicker of fiery malevolence in her eyes. Edmund Pyralis is not fine.

He's dying...and the Vanserras are next.

A couple of weeks later...

Mistwood is now nothing but ash.

Though the townspeople fought with heart and might, they were no match for the High Lord’s soldiers who had trained for centuries. Beron gave strict orders for no survivors to be left behind as he’s done so many times before. It’s not the first time there’s been uprisings and rebellions and it certainly won’t be the last. Those disloyal to him may win battles here and there but Beron will always win the war.

His soldiers did not return this time. Instead, Beron ordered them to disperse into neighboring towns along the countryside and act as peacekeepers. However, they ushered in anything but tranquility to the towns they’ve forcefully settled into.

All was well. There was no longer talk about protests or potential uprisings. No more whispers about the Phoenix. What a foolish hope that had been.

Beron sighs as he enters his bath chambers. The anticipation of relief courses through him as he closes his eyes, immersing himself in the cocoon of steaming warmth that envelops the air. His tired muscles, worn from the weight of responsibility, already yearn for the comforting touch of the hot water against his skin.

Upon opening his eyes, however, the tranquility he sought is shattered. Tension grips his muscles even tighter as his gaze falls upon an unsettling sight. There, floating ominously in the bathwater, is a single red chrysanthemum. The vibrant hue seems to mock him, triggering a surge of pain that stabs sharply through his chest. He doesn’t dare think of her name, forcing images of her back into the corner of his mind he had shoved her into.

He plucks the flower out and flames lick at his fingertips. They burn through the flower with ease, reducing it to a small pile of ashes onto the floor. He uses his magic to dispose of it. He shakes off the unsettling feeling threatening to seep in and settles into the bath instead. He’d deal with the servants who prepared his bath first thing tomorrow.

The following morning, just as he’s about to call for his servants, he’s met with an even more appalling sight.

His eyes widen as he steps out onto his balcony. There’s a sea of red chrysanthemums blanketing the palace grounds, their vibrant petals ablaze in the early light. A small piece of paper floats above him, calling his name in a sinister whisper. He reluctantly takes it, unfolding it.

Burn us and we shall simply rise again from the ashes.

-The Phoenix

It's instinctive. The way he sets the paper ablaze in his grasp. As the last ember of paper dissipates, the sea of red flowers catches fire as if on cue. Beron watches in astonishment as the flowers transform into ashes, only to burst into flames once more. The flames intensify, swirling together in mesmerizing patterns, shaping an unmistakable silhouette. A phoenix.

A shiver races down his spine.

There’s only one person he knew who loved red chrysanthemums. Desperate for an answer, he reaches out to the threads of fate that he had severed. They hang loosely but they’re still there. Only this time, he feels nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A profound emptiness washes over him, rendering him numb. She’s dead. He should not be surprised. Afterall, he had ordered it.

It’s as if the Cauldron, offended by his defiance of its predestined connection, has forsaken him upon opening his side of the bond. The bond he denied and closed off for centuries. His body weakens, forcing him to fall onto his knees.

Silver lines his brown eyes. His eyes that were once dull are now lively with pure grief and heartache. His hands grasp at his chest as if they could close the gaping hole she left behind. It’s useless.

The memories of her, his mate, begin to rise just as the ashes of the red chrysanthemums did. He can see her smiling at him in a way he does not deserve. He can hear her calling his name in a hushed whisper that burns into his skin. More and more memories of her infiltrate his mind, tormenting him in the worst ways imaginable.

“Beron.”

“Beron,” the voice repeats again and it takes him a while to register that the voice is not his mate’s but his wife’s. “What is going on?”

Beron is surprised at the concern laced into her tone. He grasps onto this feeling, pulling himself out of the depth of the own hell he created. The bond in his chest slowly closes once more. His breath begins to steady and though shaky, he rises to his feet again.

“I need to find her,” is all he says as he walks past his wife.

Lady Aurelia blinks, eyebrows knitting together. “Find who?”

Beron does not answer her. He strides further into their room and toward the area where he keeps his sword. He secures it to his waistband, determined to never go out without it from now on.

Not when his daughter, thought to be lost to the shadows, was alive. Not when she is the one who stands at the helm of the rebellions that echo through the Autumn Court. And for the first time in centuries, a spark of fear ignites within him.

How is he supposed to fight an enemy that prospers when burned to the ground?

a/n: I feel like I suck at writing about politics/conflict that isn't romance related so I hope this came out okay and not confusing. More will info will be given in the next parts.

It feels like I've read ACOTAR ages ago so I've forgotten some details and am going off of what I find on reddit/ACOTAR wiki so if I happen to make a mistake in terms of canon things, let me know. Also, I was too lazy to find new names for some of Eris's brothers so I'm reusing the ones I used in my Like An Angel series. I honestly can't wait until Az shows up but it will be 2-3 parts until then. For now, you get a lot of foreshadowing (:

tagging: @mybestfriendmademe @waytoomanyteenagefeels @janebirkln, @acourtofbatboydreams

(it's been awhile since I updated so I tagged some of y'all, just in case y'all were interested in reading more. Please let me know if you'd like to remain on the tag list, no worries if not (: Or if you'd like to be added)

#acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar x oc #acotar fanfic #azriel x oc #vanserra oc #eris vanserra x oc #gem

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cyancherub · 2 years

Text

video girl | hayakawa aki

PAIRING. aki x fem!reader (established relationship)

LENGTH. 2.5k

NOTES. mappa aki has me acting unwise......

SYNOPSIS. aki misses you so much when he's away for missions, especially when you start sending him suggestive texts on your lunch break. good thing he has a folder full of videos of you stashed away, right?

CONTENT. 18+, pwp, sexting, nudes, filming, exhibitionism (ish), pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), solo (m) (he watches a vid the two of you made together): creampie, cumshot, ass play, daddy kink, breeding kink (light), multiple orgasms (m + f), begging; flashbacks/references to: oral (m rec), oral (f rec), facial, anal, solo (f), toys; reader wearing a skirt; a touch of codependent aki because i simply luv that for him <3

A/N. all my love always to my akiwife mystic @uppermocns for a few of the ideas that went into this and for thirsting for this man 24/7 with me!!!!

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT STATED IN THE WARNINGS.

Aki gets back to the hotel midday, after a long overnight shift, and the first thing he thinks to do as the door clicks shut behind him is text you.

Hi, baby. I just got to the hotel.

He tosses his phone on the bed while he’s waiting for your reply. There’s tension in the back of his neck; he rolls his head over his shoulders for a second, before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Once the fabric’s shrugged off—discarded in the growing pile of equally bloodied work shirts sitting in the corner of the room—he pulls a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his slacks and sits at the edge of the bed, leaning forward to light the smoke he places between his lips.

His hair, pulled free from its usual knot, falls forward into his face and tickles his nose. But he barely notices the sensation; his mind’s numb with exhaustion. He takes several drags from the cigarette, studying the cuts on his hands and forearms absently.

I’ll have to get more gauze soon, he thinks in passing. Peroxide and cigs, too. But other than that, he’s too tired to think of much else. Except, of course, you.

The nicotine kicks in just as his phone chimes with your reply.

I’m glad you’re back safe. How was your shift?

A little long. Now that the main mission’s over we’re just taking care of some of the smaller Devils still loose in town. Just a few more days of work and I’ll be home.

Those twelve hour shifts must be killing you, babe. Make sure you’re resting enough.

He flicks ash into the tray on the bedside table before typing, Nevermind me. How’s your day going?

It’s good. I’m on my lunch break, got a few minutes left.

I’m glad I caught you before your break’s over.

Me too. I can’t wait for you to get home. Denji and Power keep whining about missing the lunches you make for them. They say my cooking’s like cardboard. Those kids would eat dirt for a snack, and they draw the line at my cooking?

Aki laughs. Those brats. You’re a top notch chef, sweetheart. Save the leftovers for me. I’ll take them for lunch when I get home.

I will.

And then another message from you, right afterward: I miss you.

His chest aches. This mission hasn’t been a particularly long one, and he’s grateful for that, but it’s hard even when he’s only away for a little while. To be near, to hold you close—those things are only natural. Aki feels most secure when the things that are most important to him are tangible. Within reach. His security comes in providing such for others; if he could, he’d keep you with him all the time. So when he’s away, he doesn’t just miss you. He’s constantly thinking about you. He’s craving you: something like the withdrawals he’d get if he tried to quit the smokes.

I miss you too. I can’t wait to see your pretty face again.

There’s a short lull in your replies, and he uses it to settle in. He lays back on the pillows, spreads out on the white sheets; the comforter’s cool to the touch, plush. You’ve always liked hotel beds. Maybe he should’ve brought you with him—he could’ve let you stay in one of the beds you like so much during his shifts. You’d miss him so much by the end of them that you’d pull him right into bed with you as soon as he got back. He’s sure he’d get through the shifts just fine if you were here waiting for him; in fact, he’d come back with energy to spare, just for you…

His phone chimes, and he peers down at the message on his lock screen.

Is there anything else you want to see?

Suggestive. Aki smiles around the cigarette. He knows exactly where this is going.

During his trips, he’s come to learn that you crave him just as much as he craves you. If he’s not home to fuck you to sleep every night, you get frustrated. Needy. But Aki loves being needed, and he always plays along.

I guess that depends on what you’re willing to show me, he replies.

Whatever you want, say the word.

His smile widens. He’s already starting to get hard. At work, baby? That’s risky.

I’ll be careful.

Think you’re careful enough to show me what you’ve got on under your skirt?

He takes a drag of the cigarette, feeling his dick stiffen against his thigh as he waits for the picture he knows you’re going to send.

It comes in just a few moments afterward, but his slacks are already uncomfortably tight by the time he receives it: a shot of you on your leather office chair, with your conservative, work-appropriate pencil skirt hiked all the way up, and your thighs spread open so he can see the pretty panties he bought you, and the soaking wet spot right in the middle of them.

Aki ashes his cigarette, freeing one hand to grab his stiff cock through his slacks as he zooms in on the picture with the other.

The damp cloth hugs the shape of your pussy, gives him a vague glimpse of something he’s spent a lot of time burying his face in. He’s so familiar with you that he can taste your pussy on his tongue just from looking at it.

Another chime.

See how much I miss you, daddy?

Aki inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—Daddy. And then he’s letting go of his cock to undo the button of his slacks and pull his zipper down, texting you back with his free hand.

Your pussy’s so perfect, baby, I wanna put my face in it. You always taste so good.

His hand’s down his boxers by the time you text back.

No one makes me feel like you do. I can’t touch myself the way you touch me. I need you.

He wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes it slowly, thinking about catching a flight. He’s dying to show up at your office; he’d stretch you out right on the desk, make you drip all over it, fuck you until the surface beneath your ass was all slippery with your squirt.

Wanna go in the work bathroom and call me, princess? I’ll talk you through it.

Give me a few minutes. I have to wait until I can sneak away, but I want you to keep going. Watch something while you're waiting for me.

You know him so well. You know all about the videos he keeps in that locked folder on his phone, a whole stash of them that he saves for times just like this. When he needs to sate a craving for you—at least for a little while.

I will. Call me when you’re ready for it, baby.

After he sends it he goes right to that folder and pulls his tented slacks down until they’re mid-thigh, and he can feel his cock dripping precum onto his lower stomach. He enters the passcode, bringing his other hand up to spit into his palm. With his stomach knotted up and his cock throbbing, he scrolls through the thumbnails.

There are tons of them. His eyes catch one thumbnail, and then the next; they can’t seem to decide where to settle. You’re alone in some of the video snapshots—your fingers stretching your pussy; you riding a dildo with your ass facing the camera; you pressing a wand to your clit, your thighs glistening. But in most of them, he’s there too. He sees your pretty face next to his cock, your tongue out, running up the side of it; you on your knees, with both hands on his dick as a rope of his cum paints your face. He sees your body bent over the kitchen counter, with your back arched and his dick in your ass. He remembers the whine in your voice; in his head, he can hear exactly how you sounded when you begged for him to fuck it deeper.

He can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet.

It’s the one he took the night before he left. You’re always extra needy on the nights preceding his trips—anticipating the deprivation, starved for him; he gives you one orgasm after another and you still want more. And you want all of them on tape, so you both have something to tide you over until he gets home.

That’s the video he taps on.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet—sticky, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back home, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet—you were supposed to be careful not to wake anyone up. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, I’m so close. Your fingers slip over your clit, each movement sloppier, and your whimpers heighten, competing with the wet smack of his skin on your ass. He remembers the mess between your thighs: all the wetness he fucked out of your pussy dripping down your ass. He remembers feeling it there, rubbing his fingers (all lubed up with the juices from your pussy) over your asshole, the way it clenched, and then relaxed for him.

He can hear his breaths behind the camera turning into soft moans, just as you say, I’m gonna cum, keep fucking me, I’m gonna—

You let out a strangled little whimper that makes his breath hitch, each stroke of his hand over his dick feeling more pleasurable as he watches you cum. That night, he’d had his eyes on your face—so pretty when you cum for me, he’d said, watching your eyelashes flutter—but he’d kept the camera pointed between your thighs the whole time you were cumming. Now, he gets to watch his cock sink into your twitching hole, fucking you faster and faster. From behind the camera, he hears his own voice again: That’s right, baby, get my dick wet.

You cum hard; he watches your clit pulse under your fingertips, his cock a little messier each time he pulls it out. That feeling’s always so good—rush after rush of wetness on his dick, the clenching of your walls; it’s hard to last.

Your pussy’s gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.

You have the same effect on him now—just watching you on camera makes him want to cum just as bad. He’s dying to be back there, fucking you again, especially when he hears your voice say: Cover me in it.

His dick’s already spurting cum when he pulls it out. It shoots all over you, coats your chest and paints your tits; more of it shoots up onto your throat. Aki digs his heels into the white comforter, trying not to cum. There’s just something about seeing you covered in it, watching it drip down your body; it’s like an affirmation—a reminder that you’re his.

If that wasn’t making it hard enough for him to hold back, you give him another reason to grit his teeth, swiping a finger through the cum on your chest before popping it into your mouth.

Tastes so good. I want more of you, daddy, put it back in.

Daddy. He feels the same way hearing you say it now as he did then. He wants to make it real for you. On screen, he pushes into your pussy again, with his cock still twitching from his orgasm. (It was sensitive, some halfway point between pleasure and pain that made him shudder.)

Wanna make me a daddy? his voice murmurs. Take more cum, I’ll turn you into the prettiest little mommy.

If you were in this hotel room with him right now, sitting on his cock in this bed, he’d shoot this load into you, and however many more you wanted. He’d give you whatever you asked for.

Aki watches the space between your bodies close a little as you lock your legs around his waist.

Fill me up this time, daddy, I want your kids.

God.

His eyes are fixed on the screen; he’s fucking you sloppier, this time—now that he’s letting himself chase the high he’s so close to. Now that he knows he can stay inside, he doesn’t have to restrain himself so much.

Aki strokes his cock faster, watching through heavy eyelids as his breaths pick up. It feels so good, watching you take his dick; you looked so good that night. You sounded so good, begging for his cum like that—Please, I need it so bad—give it to me, I’m about to cum again—

He watches himself bury his cock into you, a deep thrust all the way in accompanied by a shudder, and then he’s watching the two of you cum at the same time, thinking about how your walls felt pulsing on his dick. Then it’s all coming to a head—fast strokes of his hand over his cock as he watches himself fuck you, fast breaths; his stomach’s all knotted up from watching you; he needs a release; he needs to feel your pussy again; he needs to fuck another orgasm out of you; he needs to cum—and then he’s going over, too. His eyes roll back; his head drops back onto the pillow, and he feels his cum shooting all over his stomach and dripping down his knuckles.

He comes down just as the video cuts off, and he’s raising his head to look blearily at the mess on his body when his phone starts to buzz.

He picks it up after one ring—“Yeah, baby?”

“Sorry it took me so long to get away, but I’m finally walking into the ladies’ room.”

“Good,” he says. “Are you ready to get started?”

#writey cherub (csm)#hayakawa aki x reader #aki x reader #csm smut #aki smut #aki hayakawa smut #KLDFKL.. is that all the tags i need #pls i havent released something in so long i dont remember how to do this LMAO

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prowlingz · 8 months

Text

⭒ Jealousy, Jealousy.. ⭒

✩ Price x AFAB-Reader | No use of y/n | SMUT, DUB-CON 18+ ✩

✧ w.c: 2.8k ✧

It's no secret you and Price had the hots for each other, though you both knew you couldn't act on it. This never stopped you two from sneaking off into each others barracks and having a fine time, or finding some time in the middle of a mission. But eventually everything came to a halt.

He summoned you to his office, and you assumed it was for your usual discreet encounter, the one where you'd be leaning over his desk. But to your surprise...

Upon entering, he greeted you with an uncharacteristic seriousness, saying, "Please, have a seat, Sergeant."

You settled into an aging armchair, and an unusual sense of restraint washed over the room. Silence enveloped you both as you locked eyes with his cold, piercing blue gaze that had always stirred something within you.

Breaking the eye contact, he exhaled, and you released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. He lit an unfiltered cigar with a lighter, taking a measured puff before disposing of the ashes in an ashtray you had gifted him a couple of years ago.

Your attention remained fixated on his actions, anticipation and tension mounting.

Finally, you mustered the courage to inquire, "What's on your mind, sir?" Although your voice betrayed a hint of nervousness, you tried to maintain composure.

He continued to manipulate his cigar, drawing another puff before reclining in his chair, sighing, "We can't continue like this."

It was a heavy blow. You were aware that the one unbreakable rule of your relationship was that you both cannot allow love to enter the equation, particularly given the significant age difference of almost 13 years.

You sat before him, shocked, eyes widening.

He continued to scrutinize you with a detached gaze, seemingly assessing every micro-expression.

In an effort to preserve your pride and not reveal how deeply his words affected you, you replied, "Very well. Is there anything else, sir?" you managed to convey this without sounding entirely shattered.

"That's all, yes" before he could do anymore damage to your mind, you had left, urgently going to your barrack and sobbing your heart out into your pillow.

The next day you meet up with everyone for your next mission, a simple hostage situation.

Quickly flying out there, Captain Price tells everyone their positions:

"Soap, you'll be with Ghost flanking the left side of the building and neutralizing any enemies"

he calls your name, "You will be the recon sniper, watching the building making sure all hostages are safe once they leave"

"Gaz and I will flank the right side, neutralizing enemies and releasing hostages, any questions?" he yells over the sound of helicopter.

Your hand shoots up, "Sir, I think that it'd be best if Ghost is the sniper, and I head with Soap. You know I am not the best sniper on this team and that I'd be much better with flanking-" he puts his hand up to stop you from talking.

"No, we will follow my order" he speaks loudly.

You furrow your eyebrows, knowing that he usually would at least consider your advice-but ever since last night, he's likely trying to forget all about you outside of his task force.

You keep your head down, but move your eyes over to Gaz who is seemingly watching you intently.

Your eyes meet, and his gaze falls over your body, a slight smirk crossing his face. You smile at him and trace his body with your eyes.

You look over to Price, who is staring daggers at you.

It's not like you weren't wearing what you normally would, but it seems like rumors gone around that you're not tied to a man right now..

"Go, go, go!" Price shouts as the group jump from the helo.

You make your way to a hill, quickly equipping a ghillie suit and a wrap for your sniper. You look through the scope and confirm your position, "In position".

"See anyone on the roof, Charm?" Gaz asks. Charm was a name you were called sometimes as ever since you joined the task force you've been quite a lucky charm for them.

"Yeah, one on the East and two more maybe 20 meters from your position West" you reply while looking through binoculars.

A static reply, and you soon switch from your binoculars to your sniper rifle. Staring through it, you consider the pin drop. Usually Price was with you to tell you the bullet drop, but now it was all up to you.

"Shit" you whisper at the predicament.

"I'll take out the one to my left, Charm, get the one on the right" Gaz finally clearing the silence of your radio.

You hold your breath, looking through the scope. "Maybe, two pins for the drop? Shit.. maybe 3? Fuck." you always second guess yourself.

"On your bullet," Gaz says your name, waiting for your shot.

You exhale, grasping for another, new, fresh breath. You pull it up 2 pins, and shoot..

Hit.

Gaz knifes the other one and you watch him through your rifle, "Fucking ay, Charm" you feel a smile cross your lips.

"Maybe I should be the new recon for this team, huh?" you slyly remark.

"I don't see why not".

The mission concluded in a resounding success, largely attributed to your exceptional sniper prowess.

"I can't believe you nailed that shot, Charm! You're an absolute virtuoso with that rifle," Gaz exclaimed, gesturing towards your weapon.

"Damn, that guy had his gun aimed right at you, and you called his bluff? How did you know he was out of bullets?" Soap inquired.

"I had been observing him closely before making my move. I had the advantage of surprise," you calmly replied.

Morale soared as a result, and the atmosphere was brimming with positivity.

However, the relationship between you and Price remained complex, as always.

"How about we all head out for drinks tonight, my treat?" you proposed to the group.

Without hesitation, they all agreed, and at around 11 pm, everyone convened at the bar. Well, everyone except for Price. Understandable.

Soap and Ghost talk to each other at the bar, Ghost still rocking his famous skull mask, clearly making those around him slightly uncomfortable. You observe the two, Soap possibly drinking a long island tea with a lemon on the tip of the cup, and Ghost likely drinking bourbon.

You get distracted just watching them, when you feel a tap on your shoulder, Gaz.

"Hey, you" he chuckles to you.

"Well, hello young man! I don't think I've seen you around here before" you say in an innocent voice and quite confused, cute face.

"I know everyone told you, but you kicked ass on the mission today" he smiles to you while changing the subject.

You bite back on your bottom lip. "I know, I know. I'm kind of the best" You dramatically respond.

He jokingly scoffs.

"Have you had anything to drink, yet?" you finally ask him.

He hums, "No, not yet".

"You seem like a.." you pause and dramatically look him up and down, "Strawberry mimosa kinda person".

He laughs, "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?".

You look up at him, whispering into his ear "A cute drink for a cute boy".

You pull back to see his reaction. He's looking at you with a huge smirk on his face. His eyes go behind you, and you notice his smile fade.

You look at him confused, "I..I need to go to the bathroom" he says, while not breaking his look from off of you.

Before you can ask him what the hell he is talking about, he turns on a dime and goes straight towards the bathroom.

You turn to see who he was looking at, and your heart drops.

It's Price.

He makes his way over to you, "Already moving on, hm?" he hums.

You furrow your eyebrows, "So?" you scoff.

He looks down at you, hungrily. Without saying a word, he grabs your forearm and drags you outside.

"Hey-" you begin to shout, before he swiftly puts his hand over your mouth. He puts you in the passenger seat of his military truck, and shuts the door.

You catch your breath, and attempt to open the door, locked, shit.

You turn, he's already gotten into the truck and put the keys in. "What the hell do you think you're doing??" you shockingly say.

His eyes don't lift off the road, "I'm taking you to my office for a punishment".

You look at him in utter shock, "What the FUCK are you talking about? You just told me no more than 24 hours ago tha-"

"Shh..running such a mouth for your Captain, hm?" he hums back to you, inquisitively.

In the dimly lit confines of the military truck, the tension between you and Captain Price was palpable. His gaze remained focused on the road ahead as he navigated the dark streets, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the situation.

You couldn't believe what was happening. It was as if Price had thrown caution to the wind and decided to act on his desires, despite his own earlier words of restraint.

"Price, this is madness," you finally managed to say, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and confusion. "You can't just drag me away like this."

He glanced at you briefly, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I know it's reckless, but I can't keep denying what I feel. It's tearing me apart."

As the truck came to a stop in front of a nondescript building, Price unlocked the doors and motioned for you to step out. You hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to resist and the overwhelming attraction you felt for the man before you.

With a heavy sigh, you exited the vehicle, and Price led you into the building, up a flight of stairs, and into his office. The room was sparsely decorated, with military memorabilia lining the walls and a large wooden desk dominating the center.

Price closed the door behind you, his expression a mixture of determination and vulnerability. "I need you to understand that I've never done anything like this before. But I can't fight this any longer."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt. It was a kiss filled with longing, passion, and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Your resistance melted away as you responded to his kiss with equal fervor. The desk became your refuge as Price pressed you against it, his hands exploring every inch of your body with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

Price's lips left yours, trailing down your neck and sending waves of pleasure through you. "I've wanted this for so long," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You could only moan in response as he continued to tease and please you, each touch and kiss driving you to the brink of ecstasy. It was a forbidden passion, a love that defied all rules and regulations, and in that moment, you didn't care about the consequences.

"Fuck.. P-Price.." you stutter as he draws his lips towards the hem of your dress.

His lips pressing on your inner thighs and he brings his large hands draw your dress up, revealing your laced white panties.

"Hmm.. looking for trouble, princess?" he asks you, looking up to you. His lips leaving marks on your now exposed thighs. He draws his lips to the wet spot growing in your panties.

"Please..", you're not even sure what you're begging for, him, maybe?

"Please, what, princess?" he asks, humming onto your clothed bundle of nerves.

So many thoughts are running through your mind, yet your head stills feels so empty.

You continue looking down at him with your eyes slightly closed in pleasure.

He swiftly pulls your panties off of you, exposing your depilated sex.

"Hey, what are you doin-" before you can finish your sentence, he pulls you to the corner of his desk, covering your mouth.

"You're so much cuter when you're not talking back" he chimes, while slipping his fingers into your folds.

The lewd noises begin to fill the room, your moans reverberate onto his hand. Your back arches off the able slightly the more he continues. His fingers tease your bundle of nerves, and without a warning, moves from your nerves to your hole, quickly filling you with two large fingers.

You can't help but wiggle and squirm on his desk as he hums in compliance to it.

"So good..so fucking good for me.." he whispers, as if confirming it to himself.

You continue to moan into his veiny hand, as he presses further into you with his other hand.

"Fuck, I can't hold out much longer.."

Your eyes become teary and vision going cloudy.

He pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine into his hand. But you soon hear Price's belt clicking and look up just in time to see him throw his belt off the loop. He quickly pulls his pants down, and you catch yourself staring into his clothed erection.

"Needy aren't you?" he huffs, ironically.

You give him pleading eyes, and as if he has read your mind, he pulls off his boxers, and plays the tip onto your bundle of nerves.

He removes his hand from your mouth, allowing you to catch some air. "Fuck!" you moan out as his tip glides across your clit.

"So fuckin' hot, baby" he cries out.

You only moan in response as he now plays with your sopping hole. Without warning, he shoves it completely into you, causing your back to arch off of his desk yet again and screaming his name, "Fuck, Captain.. John..Please-Ah!" is all you can manage.

He slams further and further into you with no warning, and moves your legs onto his shoulders to get deeper into you.

"How's it feel, baby? Hmm? You like taking it, huh?" he asks to you.

He continues to press into you, his tip kissing your cervix, causing you to yell out in both pain and pleasure. "Mmfphh.." you try and suppress your moans with your hands, which he quickly stops by dragging your hands above your head.

His mouth gaping open, and groans, moans and grunts falling from him.

He pushes himself so far into you, quickening his already speedy pace causing you to squeeze around his length. You feel your legs begin to shake and writhe on his shoulders. Your hips swaying onto him, hoping for him to fill you even deeper.

"Shit, I'm so fucking close" he screams out your name.

You begin to see a splash of white as your orgasm fills you out. You tighten around Price's cock, and feel his hot seed spill into you.

He stays still for a moment, making sure you're completely filled to the brim before pulling out. Once he does pull out, its slow and calculated, making sure his seed has completely coated your walls.

A pop is heard when he finally pulls his member from your now abused hole.

He stares at his masterpiece for a minute, then looks back up to you.

"So good for me. Let's get you home". He helps you stand and places your panties back up, hearing the squelch of his seed. He pulls your dress down.

You can barely even stand he fucked you so hard.

"Are we still over?" you look at him, exhausted.

"Hmm..definitely not" he hums to you, giving you a kiss while holding you up and out to his car.

The rest of the night is a blur, but from what you can remember Price ran you a bath, set a cup of tea on your nightstand and helped you into bed, cuddling you into the night. In the morning he was gone, but an envelope was on your nightstand.

"See me tomorrow, princess. This is for Plan B" a £100 note falls out of the letter placed in the envelope.

You scoff, "Fucking Price".

#ao3 #cod mw2 #fanfic #mw2 #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #smut #price x reader #john price #gaz mw2

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neverchecking · 11 months

Note

Ok I just read your sage AND I FUCKIN LOVE IT!

Can I have a yandere sage x reader smut

Where's The reader is his childhood friend and fell with him and died with him with everything. But the reader loves link but she a half Dragon. And link finding out why the reader gose into hiding every other month

It mating seasons for her and he takes full advantage of it making her his.

Also can I be 🐲 aron

Yes you can! Welcome aboard 🐲 anon!

Half dragon reader? Now that is a meal. I used to have a super popular dragon Au on my very first blog (that we shall never ever talk about) and I'm more than happy to bring the dragons back.

Especially dragon reader!

And with Sage?

Sage is TotK Link btw!

BARKING-

Smut so 18+, MDNI!

TotK spoilers below!

Smut CW: Breeding Kink, Dragon! Reader, Mating season, Sage. He's just a warning himself at this point. slight choking!

'Tis the Season

His memory was not as bad as he once portrayed it as.

While yes, it was once bad, it had gotten less...splotchy in the years past. He was recalling things he could not previously with less of a trigger needed.

One memory did need a trigger though. It happened during his last flash back to the time of the Zonai, when he figured out what happened with Zelda. It threw him from one bad black out right into the next. Only...This wasn't that bad. No, it was nice.

The familiar smell of blossoms spread around him, not soft like the Silent Princess but sharper-- like a cherry blossom. It was nostalgic and comforting in ways that no other memory had been. He didn't want to leave this one.

The heavy pounding of wings, leather and solid like a Gleeok's, didn't bring him any fear. No, instead it brought the evocative feeling of home. Something that he was used to being wrapped around him, shielding him from the icy feeling of Zelda's steely gaze.

Looking around, he felt his lips turn into a grin against his wishes at the sight of a figure in the sky. They had wings, wide and translucent, spread against the sky, casting the sun around them in a halo of pure light. A tail fell behind much thinner legs, the flares at the end flickering every now and then as the being hovered. In a fell swoop, the being allowed themselves to fall before catching the wind and soaring just before colliding into the dirt. They approached too quickly for him to turn and run, but instead of drawing his weapons, his muscles stayed frustratingly lax, letting the creature grow closer. Their wings beat cool breezes around him as they landed. He noticed their bare feet, adorned with rings and bracelets drafted in jewels and inky black claws that dug into the mud beneath them. There were matching claws on your fingers, along with more rings and bracelets, which reflected the light of the sun above them.

The wings spread once more, shuddering before collapsing against their back. Horns matching the color of the wings shined as the being shook their head free of their messy hair. Scales glittered along their cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, his hand raising to gently brush against the former. The being leaning into his hand, smoke bellowing out of their nostrils as a happy little hum left their-...your lips. A name flickered in and out of his memory as your hand came up to cup his own.

The memory faded out leaving him with nothing but a bittersweet yearning, a whisper of a name, and a collection of weeds leftover from the Dragon's Tear.

It wasn't enough. He needed to know more about you. He recognized the place in the memory, quickly making his way to the field. It was barren when he got there, no flowers, scorched with ashes. It made something bitter settle in his stomach but he got the desired results.

This time the sky was a blood red, bitter and angry with black spits of ash falling. That wasn't what had his breath catching in his throat. No. It was the wounds that littered your body. Burns, livid and still sizzling, decorated your once pristine skin as your once firm and whole wings laid in pure taters around you. Holes that couldn't have felt good smoked as you laid still. Horridly still. A hand on his arm tried pulling him away from the scene. He turned to see Zelda already disregarding your broken form, convinced that she could still unlock her powers in time. Blind to the fact that they had already lost. You were gone. You had given your life for their own. And She didn't care. He could do Ganon a favor then and there.

You had died protecting them from a raging gang of Lynels. You were dead. And Zelda didn't care. She just wanted him to fulfill his duty and carry on and unfortunately, he had no choice but to follow.

The memory filtered out once more, and he was left with a boiling rage and clenching fists. Angry energy with nowhere to go, poisoning his veins. So he did the only thing he could think of. He screamed. It was something bitter and full of raw passion, enough so that he felt something tear- if not pull in the very least.

In the very far distance, a dragon's roar echoed his own scream.

He took off running.

<><><><>

You were alive. Scarred and traumatized, scared and cautious, but alive. And you knew who he was. You didn't seem to believe it at first, but then your eyes caught the earring hanging from his ear. He had had it since he had awoken in the shrine and seemingly before even that. It had just always been apart of him.

One of your clawed fingers had slowly, so so slowly, reached for it, brushing against the jewelry. You were so warm. It was so nice against what he remembered as your cold and stony skin, so pale as opposed to your tanned skin as it was now.

"You still wear this." You had whispered, voice crackling as if you hadn't used it for Hylian speech patterns. "I had gifted it to you when we first started courting. I am surprised they have lasted as long as they have with your reckless behavior."

Without even thinking about it, his own hand reached to grace against your scales once more. And it felt right. "Of course I do. They reminded me of you," He had whispered back. While he was never certain of where they came from, they did remind him of comfort and safety, all things he could now identify as you. Gorgeous, effervescent you who was now back in his arms, growling lowly in your throat as he clung onto you. "Why do you have to go again?"

"We've been over this, my heart," You grumbled, shaking your head. "Mating season is dangerous. I cannot risk your own preservation for my pleasure."

He groaned, throwing enough of his weight onto you that you staggered just a bit, wings snapping out to support both his weight and your own. "I'm a big boy, I can handle it. Why must you leave me?"

"Link-"

He just had to stall a little longer. It had been weeks of work, to keep himself off of you, but he had done it, leaving you just as pent up as he felt. And now it was just a matter of stalling long enough you let your pretty little brain shut down and let him do all the thinking for once.

Just a little longer.

Your tail twitched behind you, swiping against the wood of your shared home. "I don't have time-"

"Just stay here with me, princess. Let me take away all your worries-" He nipped at that spot right under your ears, right where your scales ended. It made you shiver, muscles running lax for a moment before you stiffened.

"Link, don't-"

<><><>

"-Stop," You panted out, head falling against the pillows as your wings remained splayed out behind you. Smoke bellowed out from between your teeth as he kept you pinned with a hand on your throat, the cradle between his thumb and index finger cutting off your airway as he rammed his own hips against yours.

You were so pretty like this, brainless and drooling, doing anything he asked of you. Honestly, he doesn't know why you ever fought him on this. He would always win when if came to you. He knew he would make you bend, it was just a matter of time.

He couldn't believe you ever thought you could hurt him. Look at you! Drooling over his hand as you clung to the arm holding you down, nothing but mindless babbles leaving your lips; asking, begging for more. Begging for him to breed you and fill you.

He would do just that. Fill you to the brim. Fill you until your primal mind was satisfied. Fill you until there was no question on whether or not you would carry his young. You would be the mother of his child, no question about it. He would father your only children and he would finally get the ending he deserved. What you both had earned through bloodshed and tears, sweat and sacrifice. This was what everything had led to. This was what all the fighting had been for.

And Goddess above was it worth it.

The thought of you, as a mother, was soul satisfying as you cried out beneath him. He would do anything to see you so. You wanted it, he wanted it, what more to the equation was there?

After all, 'tis the season.

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b00kdiary · 4 months

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Dreamer | Rhysand

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand begrudgingly goes to Hewn City to secure a marriage pact that will indefinitely bond the two Courts together- but the fine ladies of the Court of Nightmares are not what he wants or needs. Instead, he discovers Lady Y/N, and she has no qualms about telling him how he has failed this City and her. This is more than just coincidence, it’s fate.