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belovedmusings · 7 months

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"You could never burden me."

18+ Explicit Smut 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Your boyfriend Choso and you have been dating for over half a year now, and you haven’t gone past kissing. He’s very pent up and wants to take it further, but he’s afraid to make you uncomfortable by ‘bothering’ you with his needs, so he just deals with it himself. One day, you catch him masturbating at his place when you try to surprise him by visiting earlier than you were supposed to.

Relevant tags: masturbation, mutual masturbation, established relationship, shy Choso, respectful Choso, gentle reader, soft dom reader (and I mean very very soft), AFAB reader, penetration, riding, slightly submissive Choso (but not overboard with it), no use of “y/n”, creampie, unprotected sex

Recommended music while reading: BABYDOLL (Ari Abdul), Streets (Doja Cat), and I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys)

Read below the cut:

You’ve been excited to visit Choso all day long. You woke up giddy, as if it was Christmas morning, and were in high spirits all day. No man has ever been as perfect to you as Choso has been the entire time you’ve been together, and as a result, you are head over heels in love with him.

Eight months into the relationship and you are going strong together, though all you have done with each other intimacy-wise is kiss. It doesn’t bother you, in fact, it’s a nice change of pace from the other men you’ve dated in the past. He’s the sweetest man in the world and you wouldn’t trade him for the world, so as long as he wants to wait to be intimate, you will.

With that said, you silently hope that tonight is the night you two do something together. He’s planned a horror movie date with you for the Halloween season, and as such, you plan to wear something extremely comfortable yet subtly revealing. Shorts that hug your legs and hips nicely, a little shorter than can be considered modest, and a tank top with thin straps underneath one of his hoodies that he’d gladly let you steal.

You agreed that you’d be over at four to start the marathon, but now that it’s barely three, you’re sitting around restlessly, wanting to be in the presence of your boyfriend already. Neither of you have anything going on today, so after debating for a few minutes, you decide to just leave now. He won’t mind; he loves being around you, and he’s always very obvious about it too.

A fifteen minute drive later, you’re at his doorstep, and you knock.

When there’s no response for a full minute, you think he must be in the shower, something that’s happened a few times before. Luckily, you have his spare key, so you just let yourself in, kicking your shoes off and placing your bag down.

You look around and find his living room and kitchen to be empty. You don’t hear the shower running down the hall, so curiously, you close and lock the door, making your way up his hallway towards his bedroom. Maybe he’s napping? He does get sleepy very easily. With that thought, you elect not to call out to him.

As you approach the door, you can hear panting in the contours of his voice. You pause, raising a brow. Is he working out?

“Fuck,” his voice breathes out, a groan leaving his lips, “oh god, oh god…”

He is not working out.

You’ve never heard his voice like this before but it isn’t hard to tell what he’s doing behind his cracked door, the wet sounds complimenting his voice contributing to the fact.

You wonder for a moment if you should leave him be. You’re technically intruding on a private moment, but he just sounds so good, you can’t help but be rooted to your spot.

“Oh fuck,” his deep voice suddenly climbs in pitch, your name coming right after, and it hurtles arousal right into you, body heating up as you realize he’s touching himself and thinking of you.

You feel heat start to throb between your own legs and decide, fueled by lust and hormones, that you need to make your presence known.

“Choso?” You call out softly, pushing the door open.

Your boyfriend, who is laid out on his bed, topless and with his sweatpants and boxers pushed down to the tops of his thighs, instantly stops, his flushed face turning an even darker shade of crimson as he realizes he’s been caught.

“Shit,” he curses, grabbing a pillow and covering himself up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was four yet and I—”

“No, don’t apologize,” you shake your head, entering the room and closing the door behind you. “I came early. I just…wanted to see you.”

He breathes out slowly, shoulders tense. “I…I’m sorry you walked in on this.”

“I’m not,” you say honestly, “Unless…you want me to leave. I can. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Stay,” He says, seeming to surprise himself at the haste. He looks even more embarrassed, averting his gaze. “If you want, that is. I don’t want you to think this is all I want from you.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest as you cross the room to his bed, sitting down beside him. You reach out and place your hand on his, which is still holding the pillow over his lap. Your eyes meet his, and you smile sincerely at him.

“Choso, we’ve been together long enough for me to know this isn’t all you want from me,” you say, “Is that why you haven’t tried to take things further?”

He sucks in a breath and sheepishly nods his head. “Yeah. It is, honestly. I just don’t want to lose you, and I want you to know how much I care about you. Even if we never did this, I wouldn’t want you any less.”

“That’s sweet,” you reply, kissing his cheek. You can practically see the butterflies it gives him, and it makes you fall even more in love. “You’re always so considerate of me, Choso. I promise you that I want this as much as you do. I mean, I really want you.”

The dark-haired man’s face relaxes into a small smile, and he takes your hand in his, squeezing gently. “We don’t have to right now. We have the date we planned and—”

You interrupt his words by pressing your lips to his, cupping his face. He instantly melts into it, reciprocating and wrapping his arms around your waist. The leverage isn’t ideal since the pillow’s in the way, so you grab it and toss it to the foot of the bed, exposing his erection to the cool air.

He gasps when you waste no time and wrap your hand around it, kiss becoming more passionate, and you use the lube he’d already spread on his shaft to make your strokes smoother.

Choso makes a soft noise at the back of his throat and pulls out of the kiss, looking at you with lidded eyes.

"I don't want to burden you," He says in a thin voice. You shake your head, pecking the corner of his mouth, and then planting a second one on his Cupid's bow.

"You could never burden me," you tell him honestly. You've been waiting for this since your first heated kiss months ago, or maybe even since you laid eyes on him long before that. "I want this, Choso. Really. Let me take care of you?"

He breathes in slowly, searching your eyes for reservations that simply aren't there. When he doesn't find them, he relents, nodding timidly.

"Please," He says in his smooth, deep voice, and that's all you need to reinstate your touches, sliding your hand up and down his length with intent. His eyes flutter shut as he gives in, leaning his head back to enjoy your affection.

As you work his cock to pull soft moans from his throat, you feel his hands slide up under the hoodie you’re wearing, massaging at your sides timidly.

“You can touch me,” you pull away to say, “I promise I want it.”

He nods blearily, chasing your lips with his, and so you give him what he wants, slipping your tongue into his mouth and kissing him even harder than before.

“Mmf,” he groans, rolling his hips up into your hand, and the movement as you start to throb in your own shorts, touches on his length becoming more bold.

One of his hands leaves your waist to travel down, finding your waistbands. You roll your tongue over his and he grunts, gaining some confidence and slipping his hand down, fingertips ghosting over your core a second later.

It elicits a moan from you and you spread your legs wider, allowing his hand lower, letting him reach the pool of wetness that has gathered.

“Mmm, fuck,” he breathes, pulling out of the kiss as he feels you, turned on because of him. He circles his fingers over your bud slowly, massaging it at the same pace that you have on his cock.

Your heart is pounding in your ribcage the more he touches you, pleasure shooting through your system like sparks before a fire. You grind against his hand and emboldened, he slides back down and pushes two digits into your entrance, filling you up with their thickness.

“Fuck, Choso,” you exhale, pulling back to look into his lidded eyes. The sight makes your heart flutter in your chest wildly, having never seen a more beautiful sight. “My god, you’re hot.”

That has his eyes widening and his face gets red again. That isn’t all that happens, though. You feel him twitch in your grasp, and you immediately realize the compliment turned him on.

That knowledge will be used to its full advantage.

“You’re touching me so well, honey,” you murmur to him, cupping his face with your free hand. “I wanted this so bad.”

He swallows hard and leans into your palm, eyes fluttering closed as you circle your thumb around his tip. His eyebrows draw up and his lips part, a small, shaky gasp leaving his mouth.

Curiosity and lust drive you to press your thumb to his bottom lip, running it along the expanse for a moment as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. He keeps his mouth open pliantly, yet when you push the pad of your thumb onto his tongue, he moans louder than he previously ever had, wrapping the wet muscle around it and closing his lips instinctively.

Fuck. Now he’s sucking on your finger like it’s a candy, and it’s doing wonders for the both of you. His eyes open again and this time they hold desperation, unlocking something inside of you that you never knew existed.

“Baby,” you say breathlessly, “I wanna ride you.”

That pleading look intensifies and he nods eagerly, desire hitting you right in the gut. He pulls his hand from your shorts as you take yours from his body to reposition yourself, getting off of the bed to push your bottoms down hurriedly. He does the same, throwing his over the edge of the bed as you climb back on and straddle his legs.

You take a moment to admire his naked form, palms sliding down his muscular chest appreciatively as his grip finds your hips underneath his hoodie.

When your eyes land on his angrily stiff erection, you’re reminded of the ache in your own core, and wanting to finally end the long dry spell you two have been experiencing, you hold his length steady and line up, sinking down onto it.

He moans at the feeling, laying back against his pillows, tightening his hold on you as you bottom out, size big enough to brush your cervix when your pelvises touch.

“Fuck,” you sigh, “You feel really fucking good.”

His face pinkens at the praise and it stirs up fondness in your ribcage, balancing your touch on his chest so that you can start moving. You give him a few experimental grinds, relishing in the soft groans it elicits from him.

As soon as you start properly riding him, bouncing on top of him at a fixed pace, he starts to writhe beneath you, mouth open and eyebrows drawn up, labored pants escaping from him. The veins on his neck are exposed like this and the sight as you leaning down to kiss along the expanse, enjoying the shudders it earns from him.

“Baby,” he groans, starting to move his hips in time with yours. You mewl at the added pressure, speeding up. “Oh, oh fuck…”

“Better than your hand?” You can’t resist teasing him, and he laughs breathily, nodding.

“Way…way better,” he confirms, and you chuckle, raising back up to meet his eyes. The chocolate irises are clouded with lust and you love that look on him. He’s stoic by default, only cracking soft smiles here and there, emoting only when an intense emotion strikes him, so to see him overwhelmed with pleasure is an absolute treat.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, and his eyes avert to the side, face going from pink to crimson. You touch his cheek again, unable to resist, and as you had before, you touch his mouth with your thumb, tightening around him as he starts suckling on it again.

You push it in further, forcing him to take more, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat akin to a whine, sending shockwaves down your spine.

“Fuck,” you hear yourself breathe, starting to ride him faster, the springs of the mattress creaking with the effort to sustain your movements. He groans, lips parting as he takes in puffs of air at a desperate pace, chest rising and falling rapidly.

His dark, lined eyes lock onto yours and that’s when you notice drool running out of the corner of his mouth.

Like this, he looks so wrecked and it’s doing things to you. You didn’t think he’d be this pliant in bed but it’s such a turn on, relinquishing control to you with all of the trust in the world.

“You’re so perfect,” you praise, and you feel him twitch inside of you. He grabs your ass and starts moving you on top of him, adding a force to his thrusts that wasn’t there before, and it punches a moan out of you.

Okay. Now he has some control and it’s the hottest thing in the world.

“Choso,” you moan, hands finding his chest again as he takes over, manhandling you up and down his cock, angling you just right so that— “Oh, fuck baby, right there…”

“Yes,” he groans, pistoning right where you need him, your body moving at his whim. It’s heavenly, how gentle his eyes look at you contrasted with the filthy way he’s fucking you, and it pushes you further and further towards the edge. The symphony of wet sounds, the bed creaking, the headboard tapping against the wall, and his own grunts and groans only adds, and before you know it, it takes over completely. You fall over the edge and throw your head back, a loud cry of his name tearing out of your mouth as you cum on his cock.

“Choso!”

He gasps sharply as you tighten on him, and triggered by your climax, he tumbles over the edge as well, pushing you down onto him fully and raising his hips up to spill deep inside. The sensation has you shivering, and you lean down over him, taking him into a messy kiss that starts desperate, but as you regain composure, morphs into something tender and sweet.

When you finally pull back, he greets you with a lazy smile, looking completely boneless and satisfied. You imagine you look exactly the same—you certainly feel that way.

“Hi, by the way,” you say, and he laughs, shaking his head before laying his forehead on your collarbone.

“Hi,” is his amused reply, and you stamp a kiss on his forehead.

“Ready for this movie date?” You ask, and he sighs softly.

“I am,” he replies, looking up at you. “Let’s clean up first.”

“Okay, but let’s wait to shower ‘til later,” you tell him. At the curious look on his face, you simply grin. “I have a feeling we’ll end up back here sooner rather than later.”

The bashful flush it bestows upon his face is entirely worth it.

___

A/N: I need a boyfriend like Choso so bad y’all my god

#choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo jjk #jjk choso #choso my beloved #kamo choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso jjk #choso smut #choso kamo #choso #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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sttoru · 16 days

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, who’s silent is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

“What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk angst #toji angst #please give it lots of love :)

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dhoranbolt · 3 months

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Ignoring the fact I should be working on priest Sukuna but just hear me out cause reincarnated lover is heavy on the brain rn

How about she's his love from the Heian era but there's something about him being a curse that saps the life out of her. Their love itself is a curse.

She's immediately reincarnated, and they'll find each other again eventually (because they always do, it's only a matter of time), only for his presence in her life to do it all over again. The younger he finds her the less time her body can handle it, and she's dead within months.

If he's lucky enough to find her a little later she can hold out for a bit longer, but she's never lived past a year before she dies. He's watched her die so many times, and every time he dies a little too.

So imagine his horror when he's taking up space in his vessel and there's that familiar voice- accompanied by her. And he's conflicted because he thought maybe she'd finally be free after all this time. But here she is, found her way back to him, and it's only a matter of time before the cycle repeats itself again.

Anyways if this seems interesting I could make it like a lil series or something

Tag: @saiki-enthusiast

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #sukuna hcs #sukuna jjk #sukunaaaa #late night sukuna posting

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months

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Sukuna coming for Megumi's sister at Shibuya but Yuji fights back pt. 4

Part l: here Part ll: here Part lll: here

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader; Yuji x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: Sukuna enjoys every second with you by his side. But when Yuji slowly but surely begins to fight back, Sukuna has to act quickly. A sweet innocent kiss before he has to go, before Yuji Itadori gains back his body...

Warnings: this broke me into a million tiny pieces, listened to david kushner's daylight while writing this do not recommend , so much hurt and angst, slight comfort in the end if you're a sucker for my boy Yuji, still enough spice for all Sukuna lovers out there, read at own risk

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @wifenanami

Your eyes are widen in pure horror, letting Sukuna drag you behind him without resistance. You feel so numb, completely shattered from the inside. All the things you saw today, all the things that he did.

Sukuna.

You stare at the back of his head while he hums in satisfaction, casually stepping over corpses, blood and debris. That man, that one man army who holds your hand with the fingers of the boy you love more than anything else. Silent tears escape your eyes. None of this should have happened, Sukuna should have never been able to take control of Yuji.

But oh he did. And it seems like nothing is able to stop him.

“Huh, why are you crying now? I thought you enjoyed the show. Just wait until we arrive where I take you.”

Get a hold of yourself, don’t show him your weakness. But damn, you are so fucking exhausted from all the disaster you’ve witnessed today. No, you can’t take it anymore.

“Let go of me”, you hiss through gritted teeth, ripping your arm away from him just in time before he’s able to touch you again.

“Why so mad? Aren’t you at least a little thankful that I saved your puny life countless times, that I spared your little friends?” he questions, eyes staring at you so intensely that you want to break down in front of him.

“I would rather die than being your puppet”, you bite back.

“Just like your brother?”

His words. His cursed words make no sense in your head, wide eyes staring at him emotionless. What the hell is he talking about? What has all of this to do with your brother?

“Maybe you should turn around, (y/n).”

All colour drains from your face, it feels as if the ground underneath your feet gets pulled away. You want to puke, eyes laying on your beloved brother.

His numb body leaned against a wall.

A wall that’s covered in blood.

Just like him.

“Megumi.”

You don’t know how you do it. Like in trance, your feet carry you towards his body, knees collapsing onto the wet ground next to him.

“Megumi!” you cry out, your desperate voice echoing through the buildings around.

Fuck. This is so much blood. His head, his limbs, his chest. You swallow hard, urgently trying to stop yourself from puking all over him. Pictures flood your mind. Pictures of him giving you a clap on the back of your head, him holding you in his arms when you woke up from a nightmare, him helping you out with your homework. Your lip trembles, whole body shaking in nothing but thick fear.

“You can’t die here, you simply can’t”, you breathe out.

“He won’t. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.”

Sukuna positions himself in front of you.

What?

You hold your breath, eyes scanning that enormous creature standing in front of Sukuna and you. What the hell is that? Is it responsible for Megumi’s injuries?

“If this thing dies, your brother will live. What do you think, (y/n)? Sounds fair?”

“Just do it, Sukuna”, you bark at him.

“Only if you kiss me.”

You can’t believe your ears, shivers running down your spine so violently that it’s hard to keep your composure.

“Are you fucking serious? My brother is on the brink of death and all you care about is…a kiss?”

That voice of yours, it sounds so dangerous that Sukuna can’t help but smirk. The worn out look on your lovely face, the tears of despair glistening in your doe eyes. Oh, this is absolutely perfect, this is just what he wanted. You went from being a sweet innocent girl to a complete mess, even using language despite you never did that. How cute, how pathetic. Sukuna will break you along with that other brat, that’s for sure.

“You should know by now that there’s no service without anything in return. I have plenty of time, think about your priorities, sweet (y/n)-“

“Is all of this just a game to you?” you yell into his face.

With a swift motion you are back on your feet, standing up against him in a way you never did before. Your furious eyes lock with his, time seems to stand still.

“Partially, yes”, he remarks dryly, hand wrapping itself around your waist before you are even able to react.

“But you’re the price.”

You snort, shaking your head in disbelief. This can’t be real, it has to be a cruel joke. His red eyes are fixated on you, almost swallowing you whole. Does he really want you to…kiss him? God, you hate the way your desperate heart screams in agony, how your head wants to tell you that those are in fact Yuji’s lips.

No. The man standing in front of you is far away from being Yuji.

“Time’s ticking, lovely (y/n).”

For a brief moment, you close your eyes. Maybe, just maybe you can pretend that it’s him for a split second. Yuji would understand, right? Yuji, who always brought your favourite candy with him. Yuji, who always stayed with you in bed until you fell asleep. Yuji, who promised you to love you till the very end. He would get that you have to do this in order to save Megumi, he would maybe even encourage you.

Fuck it.

You let your lips sink against his, feeling how he draws you even closer to his body. Oh, how bittersweet this kiss feels, how much you missed the softness of Yuji’s lips pressed against yours. But the harshness in which he digs his fingers into your tender flesh, how he deepens the kiss without hesitation tells you that this isn’t the boy you love.

“Enough”, you press out before ripping away.

Tame your pounding heart and sharp breathing, focus on your mission. This isn’t about what feels good or bad, this is about saving your brother’s goddamn life.

“Your body betrays you, my dear”, he purrs, aiming to cup your cheek with his hand.

You yank away from him, dumping down next to your brother again.

“Do what you’ve promised, Sukuna”, you hiss.

“Wait.”

You want to scream into his face, want to slap him as hard as you can. But before you’re even able to raise your voice, a sharp pain runs through your guts and turns your world upside down. What? How?

Slowly, your eyes look down at your body. A piercing hole in your stomach, a hole that Sukuna himself must have inflicted on you within the split of a second.

“Just to make sure you’re not running away until I’m back, you know?”

And with that, he’s gone. Leaving you with a gaping hole in your body, breaking down next to your unconscious brother.

What made you stupid enough to think that Sukuna wouldn’t kill you, that you hold any value to him? How reckless it was to even think about this. But even worse, you made a contract with the king of curses himself. Suits you right, pooling in your very own blood, head resting on your brother’s chest.

He’s still breathing, heart beating barely against his ribs. Good. Maybe Sukuna will at least keep up with his words. Maybe…You let your breath out, pain radiating through your whole body.

Maybe Megumi and Yuji will get out of this mess.

You stare at your blood-covered hand, pressing against your stomach in a poor attempt to stop the bleeding. Did he hit something important? You can’t tell, maybe you’d be dead if that’s the chase.

Why are you just laying here, then? Why are you resting your head when countless people around you lose their lives? It is your job to get up on your trembling feet, to lift yourself out of your blood, to stay strong. If not for yourself, then for your brother and Yuji. They deserve it that you at least try, that you go after Sukuna.

“I’ve got this from here on, ‘Gumi.”

Everything hurts, every little step you take feels like a knife piercing through your tight muscles. But you just keep going, hissing through the pain, eyes focused towards the chaos that lays itself out in front of you.

Keep going, push forwards, just a little more, just a little closer.

“Don’t. Give. Up”, you mutter to yourself, holding your stomach as you limp forward.

“You here?”

His vibrant voice sends shivers down your spine, the instinct to run away almost taking over.

“You’ve made a promise, Sukuna”, you press out, eyes darting around the destroyed area in order to catch a glimpse of him.

“Are you not trusting me, dear (y/n)? I’m already on my way to bring Megumi Fushiguro to your people. That woman wearing the white coat, she uses the reversed technique, right?”

Your heart drops to the floor, just the thought of him visiting Shoko…

“Stay. Away. From. Her.”

You turn around so fast that your head begins to spin, already shaky legs giving in.

“Careful, watch your step.”

The bloodlust written on his face, the way his red eyes are widen in nothing but amusement while holding you in his arms. This man…he really is the king of curses, no one to mess with. How reckless to think you could tame him.

“I thought you’d keep up longer, maybe long enough for him to see you. Well, this will be an exciting race against time. Give me a second.”

He places you on the floor, leaving you in the ruins of what once was Shibuya city. One person. Only this one person was all it takes for these buildings to go down, the sheer power of Ryomen Sukuna was enough to tear everything down to the ground.

Your eyes grow heavier and heavier. You’re so damn tired. Tired of trying to save the world, tired of losing countless lives in front of your own eyes, tired of being so useless.

Tired of this hopeless battle. Who is going to save you without Gojo, without Megumi, without Yuji? You stretch your heavy hand out to the sky, the only light being the moon that shines upon you.

“Lovely”, you hush to yourself, thinking about the countless nights you stared up in the sky with Yuji by your side.

Oh, how much you wished it wouldn’t end like this, how hard you fought for a better ending. But as it seems, not every love story deserves a happy one. Some seem to be cursed to infinity.

“Are you dead yet?”

“Maybe wish I was”, you remark so huffed that Sukuna almost doesn’t get it.

“You made it, (y/n). Your brother is receiving medical care at this very moment, I killed that monster and that other fucker for you and oh, that special curse is gone as well. Aren’t you happy? You kept me going, I kept my promise.”

He kneels down next to you, eyes roaming around your blood-soaked uniform. Never did he expect it would bug him this much to let you go again.

“What a waste to let you run into his open arms again. But don’t cry too much, we’ll meet again very soon.”

His hand caresses your cheek gently, smiling at you one last time before standing up and stretching himself.

“Hey brat, be sure so savor this.”

Your veiled gaze drifts to his hands. Hands that slowly begin to tremble, hands that form into fists. Is it really possible, could it really be?

“Yuji?”

He falls to the ground next to you. Sobs, cries, screams escaping his trembling lips.

“Die!”

He digs his nails into the ground so harshly that blood spills.

“Only me!”

“Yuji…”

“How could you take her from me?”

Your body screams at you to rest your eyes, begs you to stop moving. But despite every fiber of your being fights against it, you crawl closer to him, bloody hand coming to rest on his.

“Yuji…”

And then his eyes dart towards your puny figure.

His lovely brown eyes. The eyes of the boy you love, the eyes that laughed at you countless times before. Filled with tears, filled to the brim with pure horror when the memories of Sukuna slowly start to flood his mind. In his memory, the last thing he witnessed was you getting stabbed in your guts by Sukuna, barely alive body resting against Megumi’s chest.

But this is you. This is…

You.

“(y/n).”

You can’t stop the swell of tears that overflows your heavy orbs, a silent scream of relief leaving your lips. He’s back. The love of your life is back.

For brief moments, for very few seconds, you thought he might never return, that Sukuna took over his body. But those eyes, those oh so gorgeous eyes that look at you with so much grief and agony chiselled into them, they belong exclusively to him.

“Thank god. Thank god you’re still here. I thought I lost you.”

His bloody hands lift your upper body off the ground, pressing you against his chest like the greatest treasure he ever found, keeping you safe and sound while all you can do is cry your whole heart out against the warmth of his body.

“I’m so sorry”, you breathe out.

“I’m so sorry for betraying you, I’m sorry making a contract with him, I’m sorry for kiss-“

“You can’t imagine how proud I am. You did so well, (y/n). I’m so glad you are alive.”

He presses a kiss against your forehead. Just like he does every morning before you wake up, like he does every time you go to sleep. But this time it’s different. From all the kisses you shared until this fateful day, this is the one you longed for the most.

“Let’s get you to Shoko…You need to get fixed…”

Yuji lifts your body off the ground, holding your aching frame securely against his own while walking down the streets of Shibuya with horror in his eyes.

“Stay with me, don’t go out there again. Please, I can’t afford to lose you again, I can’t live with this thought.”

“That’s not possible, (y/n). I have to go. I have to fight. Otherwise, I’ll just be a murderer. But you did enough, you acted so selfless and brave today. I couldn’t be more grateful for having such a wonderful girl by my side.”

“Yuji…”, you breathe out, tears swelling up your eyes all over.

He stops in his tracks, watery eyes staring down at you. Those eyes that saw everything Sukuna did, the countless lives he took tonight, the things he did to you with his very own hands. No, before earning the privilege to let himself fall into your arms, he has to end this fight. Without thinking twice, he presses his lips against yours longingly. You feel as good as ever, sending shivers down his spine by the way you moan so innocently against his mouth. God, how much he loves you. And how much he hates himself for letting Sukuna take advantage of you.

“I’ll make it all up to you, I swear. Rest for now, (y/n). Look after Megumi. I will return as soon as I can.”

You cling onto him for dear life, weak arms refusing to let the love of your life go all over again. You just got him back, out of the tight grip of Sukuna’s powers.

“Promise me something”, you urge.

“(y/n), Yuji, is that you?” you hear Megumi’s voice shout from afar.

“Anything, love”, Yuji replies.

“Come back to me. Promise that you’ll come back to me.”

Another long kiss on your forehead before he lets you down gently, holding you tight against his chest.

“I will never let you go again, (y/n). I promise”, he whispers against your ear.

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xxchumanixx · 2 months

Text

Sing me a Lullaby

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: character death, angst, fluff, hurt

Word count: 482

Authors note: Hey guys, don't know how this happened, but I suddenly had this idea. If my goal is to make you cry? Maybe. I did (but only a little bit, I swear). The song mentioned is Lullabye from Billy Joel.

I would say enjoy, but...

There weren't a lot of things Tim Bradford was scared of.

Still he couldn't sleep, having a hard time to calm down.

With you it was different.

Whenever he couldn't sleep you would sing him a lullaby, calming down his racing heart and erasing the horrible things he saw, when he closed his eyes.

He had seen a lot of things no one should ever see in their lives.

No matter how often he told himself that he was strong, your presence and your sweet voice that filled his head, luring him to sleep, were the only things that helped him at night.

"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." you would sing, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smelled his familiar scent.

"And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say."

It was a song as old as you were, your father singing it to you whenever you couldn't sleep as a baby. It continued even when you grew older, until he died of cancer when you were still very young.

You knew every word of it by heart, the song having a deep meaning for you. Tim knew that, feeling honored that you decided to share it with him.

You were his save haven, his light.

So when you were on patrol with your rookie, a call turning out to be a shooting like you'd rarely seen, his thoughts were trained on you, trying to get you all out of there alive as the supervising officer.

He silently gave administrations, telling you where to go and where to position yourselves, waiting for his signal.

It should have been easy, going in, arresting the drug dealer, going back out.

But it wasn't.

When you stormed the abandoned storage hall, they'd already been waiting for you.

Hiding behind boxes you waited for a clear shot, all the while looking out for the others. Firing whenever you were able to, you shot one down, Tim shooting another one.

There was backup right behind you, Harper, Nolan, Grey, Lucy and some other cops.

When you had shot all of them down, you released a sigh of relief. Even though they managed to surprise you, only one got shot in the leg.

Coming out from your hiding spot you followed Tim and Harper, as they slowly made their way forward.

There was no one in sight, causing you to frown. But you would have never complained about something easier than it looked.

But suddenly, your body jerked forward, straight towards Tim, who's face was sprinkled with blood.

Before you could have asked yourself where the blood came from, you fell into his arms, suddenly having trouble to breathe.

Tim's eyes widened in horror, as he slowly sank down onto his knees with you in his arms.

"No..." he breathed, as you started to feel the pain. A shot rang, as you heard someone call clear.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Tim panicked, frantically pressing his hands to the wound in your chest.

He couldn't lose you.

"Y/N, stay with me!" he shouted, though it seemed to blur, as your fingers slowly brushed over his cheek, adding more blood to it as your body convulsed.

You didn't get enough air into your lungs. It was like something blocked your airways, as you struggled.

Someone called for an ambulance, as Tim pressed harder on your wound. His fingers were full of your blood, as it seemed to just seep through, no matter his attempts of stopping it.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout your name again, as tears formed in his eyes, one after another freeing themselves. "I can't lose you, please, stay with me!"

A hot tear ran down your cheek, as you tried to understand what was happening through the fog in your brain. "I-I love you, T-Tim." you sputtered, blood seeping from your mouth.

"I love you too, so don't dare dying on me now!" he gave back, shaking as he sobbed.

You felt so cold, numb.

"Sing me a lullaby." you asked of him, as you noticed how black blotches started to cover your vision.

He stared at you for a moment, speechless. But he did as you asked him to, silently praying that the ambulance would make it in time.

"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." His voice broke, as a sob racked through him, tears running into his open mouth. "And save these questions for another day."

His heart wrenched, as he fell silent, trying to find back his voice, hands still pressing on your wound.

"I think I know what you've been asking me." he continued, your body hanging limp in his arms. "I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know, wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be very far."

Anther sob racked through him, his body shaking as he sung the words he remembered by heart.

"Goodbye my angel, now it's time to sleep."

He didn't know that you never heard his last words, even if they meant the world to him.

But as you lay dying in his arms, you knew he was your home. And wherever you may go, you would be his.

Always and forever.

#tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie x u #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie #john nolan x u #john nolan x reader #john nolan imagine #john nolan

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coffeexafterxmidnight · 1 year

Text

The Token Human - part 1

So that Welcome Home ARG eh? Eh? You know it right, my followers? You should look into it some, it looks like it's shaping up to be something really, really good.

Anyway I'm a sucker for well-made evil children's characters in horror media so I tried to capture the ✨vibes ✨. I don't feel I succeeded, but oh well. Part 1 of a possible series? We'll see.

Reader [gender not stated] pov CW: Body horror, eye horror, size horror[?], creepy puppets, memory alteration, whump? ask to tag Part 2

Nobody else in Home was quite like you. But nobody in Home was quite like anyone else, either! Everyone was different, and unique, and special! That's what Wally told you when you first moved in. And he was right, like he always was.

But still. Nobody was quite like you. Nobody had hair like yours, on your head, on your arms and legs. Nobody had skin like yours, soft and squishy in a different way than everyone else. Nobody had eyes like yours or ears like yours.

Nobody had hands like yours. And you noticed that right away the first time you held hands with them in a game. You had five fingers total. They had four.

You were pretty sure you were human. Julie was human too, but… a different kind of human, you were pretty sure of that, too. Really, everyone just seemed to be… them. Frank was Frank and Howdy was Howdy, Eddie and Julie and Poppy and Sally and Barnaby were all themselves too.

And Wally…

Wally was your best friend.

That's why when he invited you to his Home, to prepare a surprise party, you jumped right at it. You were always up for a party! You were too big for most of the games they played but you could put up the decorations and light the candles on the cake and clean the hard to reach spots your friends couldn't! You were a perfect fit in Home-

Wally called your name.

"Be careful!"

Bit late for that. In your little thought train you stepped back and right off the little ladder you'd been standing on to clean. It wasn't a bad fall, the step ladder was built for your friends after all. No, it just knocked the air out of you. But it reminded you of something else.

Your friends… didn't really seem to feel pain.

"I'm okay!" You called out as the air returned to you.

Wally had been standing nearby with one hand over his mouth, but lowered it slowly. His smile returned, and he laughed.

"Silly, silly," he said between the distinctive sound of his amusement. "You were thinking too hard!"

Yeah, you were. You laughed with him and sat up. He stood over you now, his soft little hands helping you stand.

"What were you thinking about?" He asked. "Was it the party?"

You hummed, backtracking your thoughts. What had you been thinking about, really? What set that train of thought rolling…?

"I think I'm forgetting something again," you said, looking at him.

Wally tilted his head to the side.

"Silly," he said. "You're always forgetting things. What is it this time?"

"I don't know!" You said, smiling. "If I knew, I wouldn't have forgotten it, would I?"

You both laughed, but yours faded sooner than his. Your smile fell. What had you forgotten?

A door creaked and swung open. You and Wally turned towards the sound.

"Maybe," Wally said, "you forgot to eat. Let's go in the kitchen!"

"Okay!" You couldn't remember anything else you could've forgotten so into the kitchen with him you went.

It was a nice little kitchen, though Wally never seemed to use it much unless you were here. He didn't like anyone seeing him eat. In fact, other than apples, you didn't know what he liked to eat at all. He liked sweets, you knew that much…

As you looked down at the colorful kitchen table, you frowned. You didn't feel hungry, now that you thought about it. You couldn't remember the last time you ate but it didn't seem that long ago.

Maybe, you thought, running your hand over a scratch on the table, Wally was the hungry one but didn't want to say it. That didn't seem like him though, he was so open and sincere…

Your hand ran over and over the scratch.

"Hey Wally?" You asked. "What happened to your table?"

Everything seemed quiet.

You lifted your eyes up towards the wall. The quiet stretched on and on.

You had forgotten something. You had. You knew you had. It was close to you, slipping away from you like dangling strings every time you reached towards it.

It was close to you. Right there. So important.

What did you forget?

"Wally?"

You looked over your shoulder.

You looked up at him.

Your stomach dropped. With a gasp, you stumbled backwards, away, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Looked up at him.

Wally once proudly told you he was twelve apples tall. You, uh, weren't. You were taller than him by a lot. But now he was tall, taller than you, looking down at you.

He tilted his head.

"Is something wrong, friend?" He said. "You don't look well. Maybe you should… sit down…"

"Wally," you said. "What happened to you?"

His mouth curled up, and your gut churned. That kind of smile didn't fit on Wally's face. That kind of smile shouldn't be possible on his face. He was a puppet -

A puppet? What was a puppet?

Wally laughed. It shook his shoulders, every syllable moving them in a rhythm. As if string moved his shoulders, but he wasn't that kind of puppet so he couldn't-

What was a puppet?

He tilted his head the other way. Jerked it, really.

"You're thinking too loud, friend." He jerked his head to the other side. "What do you mean, what's a puppet?" He laughed, ha ha ha. "Silly, silly, silly. That's you. You're my puppet."

His pupils went wide, and it was horrible how familiar it was, the feeling of teeth clenching down on - not your skin not your flesh not your head or your arms or any part of you.

You were. So tired. Like the energy poured out of you into a tiny drain.

My fear, you thought, he's eating my fear.

When he stepped towards you, you heard the click of his shoes on the kitchen tile. Had you ever heard that before? Your mind spun, you stepped away from him again.

"Don't-" you started.

Your name comes from his mouth in a tone you've never heard before.

"I won't," he said. "If you promise to stay."

And you knew exactly what he meant. And you knew you would do anything you had to, so you could go home.

You ran for the door.

It slammed shut.

The handle was meant for puppet hands, not human ones. Your legs gave out from under you as you scrambled with it, nails scratching the wood behind it as you tried to open it. Behind you his footsteps clicked, clicked, clicked towards you.

He said your name again, so sweet, so hungry.

"You don't really want to leave," he said. "I don't believe that at all. I know how much you love it here. We'd all miss you so much."

His arm reached out. His hand, with four fingers, took your wrist and pulled it away from the door. You shook your head, your throat wouldn't make a sound.

"Hey now," he whispered. "No more mysteries this time, okay? Don't go digging into things you don't understand. And everything will be fine."

You felt the teeth again, biting chunks into your mind. The panic. The fear. The dread. Gone, gone, gone.

My memories - you thought. He's going to eat my memories, too. He's going to eat my memories and put me back at square one. I was so close. I was almost-

You took a deep breath and groaned. Your eyes opened to a strange place, one you didn't recognize for a moment or two. The evening sun streamed in through a window, onto the couch you laid on. You groaned again and covered your eyes with your arm.

"Where am I?"

A familiar voice called from another room. You lifted up your arm, and smiled. Of course. You were at Wally's Home.

"What happened?" You asked.

"You fell off the ladder!" Wally said. "You must've been thinking too hard again. You think too much, I think."

You laughed a bit. "Maybe I do. Falling off a ladder? That's a bad time to get distracted."

You frowned. Wally watched for a moment.

"Did you forget something again?" He said

You sat up fully with the realization.

"The games!" You cried. "I left the games for the party at my house!"

Wally laughed. Was it just your imagination or did it seem… relieved almost?

"You can get them tomorrow," he said. "It's getting dark. You should stay here for tonight. I don't want you to trip on anything."

You thought about it, frowning at the patchwork blanket draped over you.

It would definitely be bad if you tripped and hurt yourself in the dark, you thought. Wally was right, like he always was.

"Okay!" You said at last. "Thanks Wally." You smiled. "You're a good friend."

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #wally darling #welcome home wally #welcome home fanfic #welcome home fandom #yes yes this is cringe I know BUT LOOK AT THE SCARY PUPPET #reader pov #gender neutral reader #could be read as #welcome home x reader #yandere wally darling #tagging for visibility #I didn't really intend for it to be that way but if I can see it I think everyone else can too

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lieutenantsluvr · 4 months

Text

༉‧₊˚✧

❝ run, baby, run. ❞

pairing : Keegan Russ x fem!reader

tags : NSFW, size kink, degrading, praise, blood sport, (masochism?), oral sex, little to no cnc, fear? fetish? Not realistic to canon in any sort of way, undefined previous relationship.

synop : Inspiration taken from H.D Carlton’s Haunting Adeline

w/c 3.5k

Author’s note : first time posting any sort of writing… ever. Let’s hope it isn’t bad! (I’ve also never posted on tumblr.. So if I do anything ?? wrong?? Please tell me.)

It was a violent, and dark mission. The dark they only really show in true crime documentaries. Dark that makes your flesh crawl with the very thought. You didn't want to admit to yourself that the things you saw on this mission would haunt your nights for the next.. Well, however many years you live in this ruthless career.

Keegan, your field partner, sat next to you. A man who you have seen gut people on the field - yet, also hold your hand, softly, while you cry about the horrors you've had to witness just to save innocent souls. He sat next to you, shoulders tense and aflame, eyes bearing down into the metal grates of the warehouse. You didn't know him well enough to really pick out what emotion had plastered itself within the cracks of his consciousness, but you knew him well enough to know this wasn't a good emotion. The rest of the travel back to base was quiet. Keegan didn't bother to utter a syllable, but would occasionally flick his eyes down to your figure, then back to mindless reeling.

Hours later, you had decided to work off some steam - the visuals from the mission still plaguing your head. You hadn't seen any of the other members, assuming they all respectively went off to deal with their emotions on their own. The rain pelted your body like bullets, but somehow the ache in your muscles only stirred when you heard footsteps approaching.

Keegan didn't bother to speak, only watching as you slammed your fist down on the punching bag - ruthless. His eyes wandered down, a quick observation of your form.. maybe your body.. And then back up to a respectful gaze.

You glanced back at him, almost a little off-putted by his tense shoulders, dark eyes, and the lack of emotion that usually fills his stare. He stands up, a slow forwarding step as he approaches you.

"Run."

You almost double over at the way his voice gravels. Dark, and scathed like chains dragging on a concrete floor. A simple turn of your head, as if saying, what? Heart rhythmically thudding against your ribcage, feeling as if it’ll pop from your chest and run. Another glance down at his fists, the way they curl and uncurl in strangulation. What.

"You heard me,"

"Run." A pause, his teeth baring as he enunciated his every syllable, "If I catch you, I fuck you."

You tense at his gaze, baffled at the very words he dared to utter in your direction. Run? Run. As quickly as your brain registers his intentions, you stumble back. Boots that clung to your feet almost painfully slipping against the slickness of the wet ground. “What?” You mutter out, and it comes out weak, and embarrassingly hoarse. It’s sick. You shouldn’t be feeling butterflies rippling at your very core, or enjoy the way your flesh flares at the sight of… him.

Keegan's eyes narrow, the muscles in his body seeming to vibrate with each second. His gaze, locked into yours, as your heart ruthlessly slams against the butterflies fluttering about in your gut. He doesn't react - he wants the chase.

"Go," He growls, eyes not daring to break away from yours, and you couldn't help the little shiver that danced throughout your skin. What is this? Your fight reflexes should have kicked in by now, but instead your body is responding with the most.. odd sensations. Fuck, I’m crazy. Sick. Sick in the head.

Before you even have time to react, his hand is swift in motion. He closes the gap in a swiftness, his hands grasping the back of your shirt and yanking you against himself. Your body pressed firmly against his, eyes upturned to him as a silent battle of wills, or who? takes place. A breath - quick and shallow - escapes his lips, eyes narrowing.

"I won’t ask again.”

Within seconds, your body flies from his grasp - feet hitting the ground at a magnitude you can’t process. Every cylinder in your brain is firing. The hamster in its damn wheel at max speed. Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s a reminder to calm your screaming muscles, and the butterflies turned moths in the pit of your stomach. You don’t even want to turn back. Fuck, you can’t even hear him. The rain that was once pelting against your aching muscles in soothing motion is now your worst enemy. Draining your vision of any clarity, and your boots of any traction to the ground.

He watches you bolt away - the very thought of losing you makes every part of him seethe. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The mission. How he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way you reacted to the carnage. What if that was you? Beaten. Strangled. Maimed. He couldn't just let you go. Let you go. He needed this. Fucking needed it. Every step he took was filled with an overwhelming sense of purpose. He knew, if he caught - caught - you then there would be no way you would get out free. No way he could resist tearing away at the vulnerability in your eyes.

“I’m not some goddamn animal for you to hunt!” You practically sob out, chest heaving against unsteady inhales and exhales. Boots slapping against the mud as you weave in and out of the forest - dark, and cascading trees for miles. Why the fuck are you speaking? You don’t even know. You’re a soldier. You do this for a living. Escape. Run. Hide. Kill. Yet, your body reacts accordingly with the thought of him catching you. Arousal. Disgust. Need? You’ll definitely need to speak to a therapist after this, that much is clear. You pause, feeling the taste of iron flood your mouth, strained breathing and muscles screaming to give out. Back pressed up against the rough bark of a tree, eyes flicking around aimlessly in the darkness of the forest. Where the fuck is he.

Quiet. Still. Pause.

Footsteps.

He appears out from between the trees - his eyes meeting yours. His lips narrow to a thin line as he observes you pressed against the bark, an image of fragility he could barely look at. He knows your body has reached its limits, but the thought of you not being able to handle this - handle him - didn't bother him. No, he relished in the thought of overwhelming you until you had no choice but to succumb to his will.

“You're fucking insane!" You chuff out, taking steps back - eyes flicking back and forth only to dictate the distance between your numb feet and the ground. You can barely walk. Think. Eyes darting back to the predator taking slow, and painful steps toward you. Large build. God, six foot something.. It didn’t matter. Even through the mask you could see how he bares his teeth against strained breaths. Fuck.

"What is wrong?" You practically sob out, another strained step back into the mud, "We can talk about this.." His eyes narrow. His brow furrows. The corner of his lips twitch through the dark fabric of the balaclava - the muscles in his cheek jumping as he suppresses a smile. The sheer absurdity of your request, the thought of talking this out, almost makes him laugh. Though, your plea fell on deaf ears. A low, primal growl fills the air, every part of your body being consumed with an intense wave of heat - Your core burning up in a blaze. A swift motion of his hand to bunch up the balaclava, thumb hooking under the fabric and dragging it right below his nose. His muscles bunch, his lips peeling away from his teeth, exposing his incisors as his jaw flexes forward. He takes one step. Two.

"Keegan.." You plead, taking another faltering step. It was like the gods had laughed at the way you squirmed and ran, desiring more entertainment. Slipping from the lack of traction from under your feet. A harsh thud into the ground, your elbows sliding into the rigid, and slick dirt - a whine from lips that could barely contain her own breath. At this point, you were sure you were bleeding. Some sort of road-rash against the rocks in the mud.

The closer he gets the harder it is to suppress the urge to attack. His senses are tingling, the heat you radiate as he stalks towards you, consumes him. Everything in him urges him to pounce - the only thing holding him back is the little bit of human left in his head.

“Oh, baby girl,” He drawls, the gravel in his tone sending sputters of electricity against your flesh. Fuck. Your brain can barely comprehend the feeling. Waves of rolling heat against every muscle that screamed RUN, IDIOT! But you didn’t. In fact, somewhere in that hamster wheel that echoed in your thick fucking skull, you almost told yourself to sit, and stay. He crouches down on a knee in front of you, eyes slowly slinking over the blood trickling down your forearm. The cut couldn’t have been that bad, you barely felt it. You barely felt anything. A long silent pause - your blood a thick, sticky mess against your body, but his eyes, sharp as a blade, are only set on yours. His hand is soft as it takes a hold against your wrist, raising your arm up to inspect the damage. He tuts his lips, “Silly fucking girl.” The phrase almost deprives your lungs of oxygen. He continues to raise up your arm, a now painful stretch as he almost dangles the front half of your body in front of his face. “Damaging a body,” A lulling of his tongue, before it languidly swipes against your elbow, a singular drop of blood landing against his tongue. You swear you can feel the vibrations in his throat, that of satisfaction. A deep, dark growling. One they only really talk about in stories, “A body that fucking belongs to me.”

Oh fuck. If you weren’t sure you were ruined by this image, you sure as hell were now. This is so fucked up. Beyond fucked up. Your body coils, and tightens at his action - the stinging against your wound, and berated flesh aching for an escape. Hey, God. It’s me again. His hand slides from your arm, dropping your weight on the ground, a soft thud as your knees make contact with the mud again. “Strip.” He orders. By the flaunt in his tone, he knows he’s winning. Bitch.

You comply, of course. What the fuck else were you supposed to do? Run? You tried that. It didn’t work. He’s a predator. An animal. Trained by the military, chewed up, fucked, and spit back out to wreak havoc on any prey the department sicks him on. Hands shakily fumbling against your clothes, an awkward and almost idiotic task as you slide from your dampen and muddied clothing. His eyes are plastered on your every move - you swear he stops breathing when bare flesh breaks free from the hold of your uniform.

“You’re taking too long.” He chuffs, a hand grasping at your forearm, pulling you to your feet in a swift motion. He practically tosses you around like a sack of potatoes. His hand presses against the valley between your breasts, a shove and your pressed up against the rough bark of the tree. “Don’t fucking tease me.” He adds, his other hand sprawling behind your shoulder blades, you assume it’s to protect your screaming flesh from the harshness of the bark. Kinda sweet. Rough, and calloused hand slipping down the ravine between your breasts, his mouth following in suit - it’s almost sweet the way he places soft, and sensual kisses down your cavity. Though, part of you thinks it’s an apology. His eyes only glint like this when he’s on the battlefield. Laser-sharp focus as he bares his claws into whatever lowlife that dared fuck with the embodiment of vengeance. He only looked this way when he ripped people in half. Haha. Shit.

His body comes to another kneel in front of you, hands slipping down your torso to follow the bend of your hips. Gloved hands undoing the belt that holds up your military issued cargoes, a sharp pull of the fabric and it’s resting at your knees. Fuck, this is embarrassing. There you are, practically served on a silver platter in front of a starving soldier. His eyes roam toward their goal. Their prize. He has the audacity to smile as he runs his lips down your stomach, to your thighs. “Dirty fuckin girl,” He begins, followed by a snap of his teeth. It grazes your inner thigh, and you tense. He could probably bite a chunk from your flesh. Honestly? You wouldn’t be too mad. In fact, you crave it. “Keegan-” You begin, but you’re cut off by his tongue slipping from his mouth. It flattens against your underwear and over your heat - a desperate, and strained whine escaping your throat. His hands, still grasping down into your hips, fingertips digging into the squishy flesh so hard you swear it’ll leave bruises. “Fuck,” He drawls, a sharp inhale as he retracts his tongue back into his mouth, “All this for me?” Your thighs shake at the heat in his voice, the gravel. Before you can even let out an embarrassingly pained noise, he hooks his finger against the fabric and moves it to the side. The cool air pokes at your flesh. Between his eyes, and the cold nip of the air, your core is screaming underneath a burning sensation.

His tongue is quick to lap against your folds, and you swear you black out for a second. A full body shiver as he flattens his tongue, licking languidly against the excess that drips from between. “Like drinking from a fucking chalice.” He groans into you, a tightening of his grip against your hips. The right type of fear is coursing through your veins. He’s eating like it’s his last fucking meal. Tongue swiping up and down as it picks up every last single drop of arousal. Your moans, and whines reverberate through the forest, probably scaring off every animal that lives there. A singular hand of his drops down from your hip, sliding to the bend of your knee, and hooking it over his shoulder. You revel in the feeling of him suffocating between your thighs - his gloved fingers squeezing into the side of your thigh. Tongue jetting out of his mouth, he ruthlessly swirls against your clit. Before you have a chance to shiver against the arousal pooling in your gut, he bites down… hard. He’s practically rolling your aching, and screaming bud between his teeth. Your heart beats a steady cadence against your skin, the heat of his breath grazing against the flesh. The growl from his throat was something you wanted to explore in his throat - really feel. He was an untamed thing, a wild animal, and he was claiming his territory.

“Keegs-” You choke back as you sob, head rolling back until it pressed against the bark of the tree. Apparently, the brief uttering of his own name gets him even more excited. A deep, and guttural noise upheaving itself from his throat. “Relax, babygirl.” He groans between clenched teeth. Continuous cries as he murderously devours your cunt. His teeth, once rolling your bud back and forth, has ceased - now subduing the sting with his tongue, grinding against it fluidly. You notice that your once hesitant thighs are now spread apart like the red fucking sea. God, maybe you are psycho. A singular hand of yours jets out, fingers curling around the fabric of his collar and holding him there. Is this an asshole move? Practically suffocating him with your pussy? Maybe. But, he chased you into a forest… Revenge? God, you couldn’t think. To your dismay, he actually enjoys the iron-clad grip you have against his collar. Groaning into your cunt, he flattens his tongue once more, languidly soothing the white-hot screaming from between your legs.

Between his own saliva, and the wetness drowning him - You’re so fucking wet. Embarrassingly wet. You can’t stop the clumsily motion of your hips as they begin rolling against his mouth. “Shit, Shit-” You sputter, your reaction earning a thrust from his tongue inside of you, “Keegan- Please- So.. So..” Another sputter of incoherent garbage. What the fuck are you saying? Your stomach tightens, the coil creaking and retracting in your lower stomach.

“I know, sweet girl,” He confesses between your thighs, the vibrations from his syllables knocking around your cunt, “such a good fucking girl.” His arm wraps around your hips, raising you even higher for his mouth to indulge. You tilt, in wake, a whine of pleasure as he flattens his tongue and swirls it against your clit. He quickly dips it, and slides down to jet inside of you. He’s barely phased when you writhe above him, nails gliding against the flesh across his collarbones. You’re just clawing at anything you can get your hands on. Keegan continues to licks at you as if you’re contagious - an antidote to the animal that infects him. Honestly? You can’t even remember the fucking mission from earlier.

“Keegan,” You call out again, head tipping back against the blurriness of your vision, “Please- Wanna come ‘m so close.” He laughs. This fucker has the audacity to laugh. Yet, the vibrations pulse through you - hitting every nerve ending like hail against a tin roof. “That’s it, good girl..” His tongue dips up, tight circles against your aching clit. It’s a full body experience. A tightening sensation that runs up from your toes, to your head. Desperate whines, and calls of his name as the feeling sweeps over you. Tightening coils in your gut, till it breaks, similar to that of a rubber band snapping back against sensitive flesh. You heave, and wheeze a call of his name, a broken sob as air escapes your lungs. Keegan doesn’t stop - no, why would he? His tongue continues to ruthlessly chase your high, lapping every ounce that runs from your cunt. Though, mercifully, he removes his mouth after a few seconds.

Your eyes drift down, watching as he tilts his chin up to meet your gaze. Almost animalistically, his tongue dips from his mouth - swiping against fluid that lines his lips, and taking it into his mouth. A shudder escapes your body, followed by a whine at the sight. “See?” He laughs, the darkness in his tone lacing his cocky words, “Dirty fuckin’ girl, yeah?” He raises his hand, only slightly, grazing a knuckle against your screaming folds, and swiping up some excess arousal. Keegan is quick to bring his hand back, inspecting it, “Could barely fit my fuckin’ tongue in,” He jests, running the knuckle of his pointer finger against his tongue. The sight makes you shiver. “Keeping this pretty fucking pussy all to yourself.” Was it true? Maybe. Who's to say you haven’t only thought of him? Hand dipping below your pants after every training session, relishing in the way his muscles constricted and flared as he trained. He’s hot. Fucker knows it too.

You don’t bother replying, only dragging your leg off of his shoulder and placing it gently on the ground. Body still shaking, shivering, and meekly reverberating at the carnage he just mouthed into your cunt. He’s quick to stand, towering over you with that behemoth fucking build. Listen, Keegan’s always been a big dude. His shoulders, and biceps were a knee weakening image. Mindless thoughts earning the trailing of your eyes down to the area between his thighs, brain constricting and contorting an image up of just how big his cock could be. Your brain continues to reel at the thought. Fuck, you want it.

“Keegan,” You murmur out, voice still a little hoarse from the cries. His eyes dip down to meet your stare, not a single visible emotion as he gazes down. Fuckin brute. Almost desperately, your hand reaches up to his vest, fingers kneading at the fabric until you can grasp at some of the shirt that hides underneath. He bares his teeth, only for a second before he steps into you.

“I’m going to tell you this once, and only once.” A pause. “Run, and hide.”

Oh, fuck. See, the game of cat and mouse isn’t as scary as it was before. Now it’s fucking palpable. He knows you’re willing to submit. You like this game, and he likes playing it.

“If I catch you,” He pauses, like he knows he will, “I stuff that criminally tight pussy with every. fucking inch. of. myself.” A sharp inhale through clenched teeth, “And, I bury myself so fucking deep inside of you that you can feel my soul in the afterlife.” Part of you stirs for a moment, awaiting for a laugh - a lessening of his threat. But, nothing comes. Haha. Shit. Within seconds, your hands are fumbling to do the button of your cargoes, clumsy sliding them up your ass and taking off. So, here you are - running, half naked, cold, and wet through a fucking forest. Again.

#cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ #why am i nervous about posting this #smut #↳ keegan ༉‧₊˚✧#keegan russ smut #keegan russ x you #call of duty #call of duty ghosts

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grimoireofhayley · 9 months

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA (rape), Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ content, Stalking, Jealousy, Angst, Possessiveness, (let me know if there’s more that needs to be added!)

Word Count: 1.02k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @m-the-little-witch

A/N: Ah, I hope y’all feel lucky. Two chapters in one day! I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope I captured Randy, Billy, and Stu’s personality correctly. Thank you so much for reading! I’m hoping I’d get an update out tomorrow, but if not, it should be up later on this week at some point so keep an eye open. I also wrote this on my iPad, so I apologize if there’s any grammatical errors. I’ll proofread again tomorrow and put out an updated version. Oh, again, if you wanna be added to the tag list, just comment down below. Thank you :)

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Remember, your principal loves you, and I want you to be safe. All students are encouraged to return to their homes promptly from school grounds…” The principal spoke over the PA, “Avoid strangers, walk in twos and threes—“

You pinched the bridge of your nose, visibly stressed from all the questioning. You haven’t a clue why you were so upset about everything, you weren’t the killer, but for some reason it felt like you were. Maybe you should’ve lied? Twisted the story a bit so you didn’t reveal you were a mistress at some point in your life.

“I am a slut..” You mumbled, dragging your fingers down your face, causing your eyes to droop. “Now Brooke is definitely going to find out, how am I to confront her on that?” You asked no one in particular.

You stared at the vibrant blue sky, squinting when the sun flashed your eyes. “Have mercy on me, please?” You begged the man upstairs, not expecting an answer in return.

“What kind of questions did they ask you, Sid?” You heard Tatum’s voice in the distance.

You blew a raspberry, putting your brave face on and sauntered over to your friend group at the fountain.

“They asked if I knew Casey…” Sidney’s voice soon followed.

“Hi, guys!” You chirped, sitting in front of Stu, Billy, Tatum and Sidney, unintentionally stopping their conversation.

“Hello, Sweetcheeks!” Stu blurted, eyes glazing over you, a small smirk planted on his lips. “What took you so long?” He groaned, “It’s always so boring when you aren’t here!” He frowned, tossing his head back.

“Gee, thanks Stu..” Tatum snipped, causing you to giggle.

You looked over to Billy, seeing Sidney leaning against his legs, your face contorting in disgust as jealousy was creeping up on you. You mentally slapped yourself, looking away and back at Stu.

“Uh, they had me stay longer for questioning…” You admitted, leaning back against your bag, stretching out your legs.

“Huh? Why?” Billy asked, curiously.

“Yeah, why’s that?” Sidney mumbled.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“Just reasons, I guess.”

“Speaking of questioning, did they ask if you like to hunt?” Stu looked at Billy and Randy who seemed to have shown up out of nowhere.

“Yeah, they did. Did they ask you?” Billy answered and probed, Randy nodded in agreement.

“Hunt? Why would they ask you if you liked to hunt?” Tatum voiced.

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Randy spoke up, shoving a peanut in his mouth.

“They didn’t ask me if I liked to hunt…” both Sidney and Tatum declared.

Stu looked around, but his eyes always seemed to land on you, which caused you to blush, and chew on your fingernail.

“‘Cause there’s no way a girl could’ve killed ‘em..” Stu laughed.

“That’s bullshit. The killer could easily be female, basic instinct.”

“That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same thing…” Randy butted in.

“Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. And the fact is, it takes a man to do something like that.” Stu grinned, still staring at you without realizing it.

You leaned in, placing your chin on the palm of your hand. “Really now? If that’s so, then why did they ask me if I liked to hunt, Stu?” You smirked, catching all of them off guard. “Like Tatum said, the killer could easily be a girl. Though, with how they were killed it was clearly a man. They’re all the same, messy. They like to play with their prey. A woman on the other hand, knows how to get things done, swiftly and cleanly. Why do you think they don’t get caught as easily?” You finished your statement. Drumming your fingers across your lap in triumph.

“That was— I was not expecting that.” Stu laughed loudly, bewilderment lingering around him like an aroma of some sorts. Billy was just as shocked, but more amused.

However, Sidney wasn’t having it. “How… How do you gut someone?” She asked.

“You take a knife—“ Stu started and Billy looked up from his lunch. “And you slit ‘em from the groin to the sternum..”

“Hey.” Billy cut Stu off, glaring at him. “It’s called tact, you fuckrag.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Hey, (Y/n)..” Sidney asked, ignoring Billy and Stu’s former conversation.

Your ears perked and you looked at her confused.

“Didn’t you used to date Steve Orth?”

‘Now how in the fuck could she have possibly known that…’ You thought, your ears turning red from anger and you clenched your fist.

“Yeah, for like a couple of months..”

“Hold up, did I miss a chapter or something? When the hell did you date him?” Billy asked, looking somewhat pissed.

“Uh, yeah, I have to agree with Billy here.. when the hell did that happen?” Tatum’s eyes widened, she felt betrayed.

“Jesus, guys, it was only a couple of months, I don’t even know how Sidney found out.” You started, shooting Sidney a glare.

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Stu mumbled, starting to get irritated as well.

“All of you, please just shut up. It is not a big deal.” You demanded.

“Are the police aware that you dated the victim?” Randy asked, ignoring your pleas.

“Hey, what are you saying? That I killed both Casey and Steve?” Your mouth gaped at the accusation.

“It just makes sense, ex-girlfriend not over the relationship, gets jealous seeing her lover with someone else… You know, the scorned ex who kills for revenge!” Randy shouted, earning a few stares in the process from passersby’s.

“(Y/n) was with me last night, okay?” Billy spoke, winking at you from behind Sidney.

“Yeah, I was…” You stated, catching Sidney’s eyes darting your way.

“Was that before or after you sliced them up?”

“Hold on, you went to (Y/n)‘s after you came by my place? You said you were going to Stu’s!” Sidney flared her nostrils, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, brother…” You whispered, face-palming. Seeing Sidney hurriedly packing up her things, she didn’t give neither you or Billy time to explain...

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#fanfiction #billy loomis x female reader #ghostface x female reader #stu matcher x reader #stu macher x female reader #billy x you x stu #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #ghostface #scream x reader #scream franchise #scream 1996

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rottenrosethorns · 11 months

Text

Promise | Part Two

Pairing: RE4!Leon S. Kennedy x co-worker!fwb!afab!Reader

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Synopsis: It’s been days since Leon left, the last you heard from him being rumors about the mission. Over the span of those days without him, you start to realize how much you craved Leon’s comfort beyond physical. But, why is he suddenly acting so distant?

Word Count: 9.2K

Warnings: 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI; mild slow burn?, allusions towards depressive episode, crying, slight depictions of blood and gore, Y/N used once, reader smokes cigarette, reader consumes alcohol, switch!reader x dom!Leon, slight humiliation (reader receiving), slight overstimulation (reader receiving), pet names (love, baby, beautiful), fingering (reader receiving), rough fucking, oral sex (reader receiving), spanking (reader receiving), choking (reader receiving), oil massage (reader receiving), manhandling (reader receiving),mutual aftercare, swearing

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE!!! A huge, huge thank you for everyone's love for Promise pt. 1. I really hope everyone enjoys the second part. I appreciate everyone’s patience and apologize for taking so long to finish this. I cannot tell you how many times I reconstructed the plot lol

Taglist: @navreads @navstuffs (sry i couldn't tag your side blog)

__________

- masterlist -

- part one -

__________

You don’t remember the last time you slept. Well, of course you slept, every human needs sleep to recover. Maybe you should say that you couldn’t remember the last time you fully recovered. Regardless, all you knew was that feeling of uneasiness whirling in the pits of your stomach.

Ever since Leon left for the mission, you couldn’t help but worry. The constant feeling of fear consumed your thoughts 24/7 as you daydreamed about what horrors Leon could be facing and whether or not he had the skill and luck to survive. The devil that people call “the little voice in my head” tormented you with narrative images of Leon’s death. Some scenarios were soaked with gushing blood, some were infected with whatever mutated virus, and some – the one you deemed the worst out of all – was simply a missing person, no body to be found whatsoever.

You spent your mornings in bed, laying there for what felt like hours only to fight off the grogginess with some cheap coffee or energy drink before heading to work at the very last second possible without being considered tardy. Normally, you were a very diligent worker, investigating virus cases or testing for possible antidotes. But these days with your mind clouded with Leon’s absence, you often caught yourself stumbling over work. Your supervisor scolded you for simple mistakes, ones that you would’ve never made before. You were slow and sloppy, and Leon was all to blame.

If you thought your performance at work was bad, your personal life was even worse. Once work was over, you’d go home, maybe make a sorry excuse for a meal, watch an episode or two of whatever show you had queued, and get ready for bed. When you entered your apartment, you’d think of when Leon would push you towards the closest wall, pining you with his hips as he grinded his restricted erection into your hip bone. When you cooked, you’d think of when Leon slid his hands down from your waist to pick you up and trap you on your granite countertops. When you ate, you’d think of when Leon bent you over and railed into you from behind over your kitchen table.

Fuck.

You’d hope some TV would ease your mind, but the audio quickly became white noise as your thoughts drifted towards Leon. On a day where you were feeling particularly lonely, you closed your eyes and layed yourself in bed with your hand creeping under the waistband of your pants. You sighed in relief, reaching the spot which craved your attention. With your imagination, you pictured Leon in front of you. His eyes watched as you did your best to satisfy yourself. You listened to his ghost-like whispers as he guided where to put your fingers and how much or little to apply pressure. With your fingers, you tried your best to follow his silent commands, doing your best to imitate his technique. For an hour, you remained like that, pushing and hoping to reach a climax, but even imitation could never compare to the real thing. Nothing could compare to Leon. So, you found yourself cleaning up, although barely lubricated and heading to bed to ignore the pitiful aching between your legs.

You didn’t know when – if – Leon was coming back, all you knew was that somehow, this became routine for you.

“Hello?? Hello???” Poppy waved a hand in your face, “Earth to agent? What’s got you so distracted?”

Startled, you jumped back, not realizing that you’d been staring blankly at your laptop screen for some while. You cleared your throat, finding the almost empty cup of whatever drink left behind and chugging it, “Shit, sorry. Need something?”

Poppy looked at you with concern, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I do. I need to know what’s up with you. Are you okay? You’ve been totally out of it these days.”

“I’m fine,” You touched her hand, grateful for her concern, “Just tired.”

“Trouble sleeping? I don’t want to be mean, but those eye bags are killer. Not the good kind.”

Rubbing your eyes, you sighed with the weight of last night’s lack of sleep on your shoulders, “Yeah, something like that.”

“You know I care for you, right?” Poppy softly smiled, “And, that you can tell me anything, and I mean anything, if you need to.”

You nodded, reciprocating her smile, genuinely thankful for her friendship. Although you weren’t ready to share your experience, you were glad to know that you had someone to go to if you ever felt particularly sentimental, “I know, thank you. Just got some stuff on my mind, but I promise I’m okay.”

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself back into work mode, “Did you still need something or just come to visit?”

Only then, you noticed the collection of papers in Poppy’s hands as she gave them to you. Looking through them, your heart leapt to your throat as you instantly recognized Leon’s handwriting on the mission reports. Stunned, you felt like all of time ceased around you as a loud buzzing sound pierced your ears. It was only until Poppy’s soft voice pulled you back into reality, “He’s in the infirmary, the doctors are watching him for any signs of Las Plagas just in case Luis’s laboratory was faulty. We’re supposed to go see him and run some tests as well.”

You were out the door quicker than Poppy could finish, leaving her to trail behind you as you rushed towards the infirmary. You could hear Poppy shouting for you to slow down and wait for her, but your mind was racing with Leon and the need to just see him. You heard a soft crunch, looking down to notice that the reports had been crumpled by your death grip. You felt light headed, out of breath with anxiety, almost like your heart was about to burst through your ribcage. Turning towards Poppy, who just caught up to you, you pleaded, “Which room is he in?”

“The one on the left.”

In your mind, you wanted to dash towards his room, slam the door open, and jump into his arms; however, your legs felt like jelly, each step slower than the previous as you paced to a standstill just in front of the closed door with your hand frozen on the handle. From the little window in the door, you saw Leon laying on the bed, draped in a hospital gown and tucked underneath the thin, white top sheet. Next to him, his bloodied uniform folded in a sealed bag, waiting to be sent off to forensics. With your free hand, you covered your mouth as tears silently ran down your face. The sight before you was freighting, nothing like any type of fear you felt before. Leon, bruised and battered, became your worst nightmare. The image of his dormant figure etching into your memory forever.

“Is he…” You gulped, swallowing down the lump in your throat before taking a shaky breath. It didn’t matter as you couldn’t bear to finish your sentence.

Poppy grabbed your hand, the one that’d been resting on the door handle and pulled you to face her. She cooed at you to take deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling with you. You hadn’t realized you were starting to hyperventilate. Once the heavy pressure on your chest dissipated, Poppy spoke, “He’s okay, just sleeping. His body is recovering from the lack of food and sleep. The doctors are closely monitoring him, and we’re waiting for his results.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and thanked whatever higher being for protecting Leon. As much as you wanted to look back at Leon, you were scared to see him in such condition again. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him return from a mission, but this was definitely the first time you’ve seen him return so beaten up and in a hospital bed.

A tight hug from Poppy pulled you from your thoughts. You’d meant to ask what she was doing, but her warm embrace reminded you of your lack of social interaction and sent you into another fit of tears. Your lips trembled as you buried your face into her shoulder and graciously accepted her embrace. You mumbled as coherently as you could about how scared you were, how worried you were, and how lonely you’d been without him. Unknowingly, you’d just confess your feelings for Leon.

Poppy consoled you, bringing up a hand to pat the back of your head and caringly brushing your hair, “You haven’t told him?”

You shook your head, “I don’t think I realized until now.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t.”

You pulled back, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Everyone can tell that you two have chemistry,” Poppy laughed to ease the tense atmosphere, “Sorry to say, but you two aren’t so good at hiding your not-so-secret glances at each other.”

You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you blushed, “Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“It wasn’t, you just confirmed it for me,” Poppy snickered as you scowled. She rejoiced with an empathetic look in her eyes, “You know you should tell Leon how you feel. We almost lost him this time, you might not get to say how you feel about him.”

You pressed your lips together, hesitating before speaking, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Getting rejected?”

“And, how would you know that? We’ve seen the way he treats you, you both go home after work together, what else do you need?” Poppy reasoned, “How could he say no to you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Your voice came out as a hushed whisper, as you looked towards the floor and found the patterns on the tiles more interesting than your answer.

Poppy looked over at Leon’s sleeping body, “You can practice when he’s not listening, and then, when you’re ready, you can tell him how you feel without being scared.”

You followed Poppy’s eyes, once again landing on Leon’s body. Internally, you debated whether or not you should follow Poppy's plan. You bit your lip with anticipation, “What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

Poppy nodded, a brighter smile blooming on her face. She wiped your tears and fixed your hair, “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

You thanked her, giving her one last hug before turning back towards the door. You took a moment to breathe before bracing yourself and entering his room. The hum of the machines buzzed through your ears, blurring the deafening thoughts racing through your mind. Soft yellow hues from the overhead light illuminated Leon’s scratched up face. Slowly, you moved towards him and stood near the edge of the bed. You stared at his hand, a bandage wrapped around what you assumed to be a wound obtained from catching a knife. Hesitantly, your fingers touched the bandage before gently snaking them to hold his hand. A sense of relief washed over you as the warmth of his hand reassured he was alive and well. Although he was sleeping, you felt him grip your hand just a tiny bit tighter once yours was in his, causing your lips to quiver again and slow tears to fall.

“Um, hey,” Your voice cracked, “Sorry. Um, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I really missed you, and I was really worried about you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left. Uh, I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, but I care for you. I want you to be happy, I want you to be healthy, and-”

You gulped, “And…I want to be the one to make you happy.”

“I…” You took a deep breath, “I love you, Leon.”

And, mumbling through his slumber, Leon whispered, “I love you too, Ada.”

…..

It’s been three days since you showed up to work, having a poor excuse of catching a nasty cold. In reality, you were perfectly fine if you considered an aching heart to be okay. Like a teen whose crush just kissed another person, you spend the last three days lazing around in your bed, barely getting up to eat and seldom showering. You basically lived in your bed. But as nice as this was, you couldn’t run away forever. You had a day job, and you didn’t want to risk getting fired. So, you shuffled towards your bathroom and hopped in the shower, not having the confidence to look at your appearance through the mirror’s reflection. Even though it took most of your energy to walk to the shower, you instantly regretted not showering sooner with the relief of the hot water soaking your frail body. You worked through your matted and tangled hair, cleaned up your hygiene, and took some time to think about random shower thoughts. After all, that’s all you’d been doing with your time – thinking. Though no matter how much you thought about it, you couldn’t figure out any answers to your questions: Who was Ada and when did he meet her?

If you recall correctly, you were the only person that had been hooking up with Leon. You confirmed this because he rarely spends nights at others’ places, having preferred to be in the comfort of his own home. Plus, you never saw any indications of other female visitors at his place. So, if you and he had been exclusive for the past few months, that limits the time frame down to Ada being way before your time and not a recent person of interest. So, then the question changes to whether Ada was an ex-girlfriend and whether Leon still had feelings for her.

Who were you kidding? Of course he still had feelings for her, he confessed his love to Ada afterall. Even though he didn’t know that it was you that had confessed to him, Leon subconsciously kept Ada close to his heart.

The only thing to confuse you was why had Leon treated you so nicely beforehand? He was always around you, kept you company, walked you home, memorized your favorite foods, and so on. What was the reason for all of that if he hadn’t been interested? Was he leading you on? Toying with your feelings? Had you over-thought his actions?

You groaned, frustrated at the endless loop of questions in your head. With some new found anger, you stepped out of the shower and started your care routine. You kind of missed having a normal person routine as much as you despised how much effort it took to make yourself deemed socially presentable. Fortunately, your journey to work was uneventful. You did your best to avoid crowded areas, mostly keeping your eye out for Leon. You were not ready to face Leon, knowing that you’d freeze up immediately. You were trying to lay low, keep yourself from being too suspicious.

“What are we looking at?”

Fuck.

You jumped through your skin, nearly having a heart attack. You spun around abruptly, having been face to face with the very person you’d been trying to avoid. You stood there, frozen and mouth agape and you tried to muster up a coherent sentence to speak.

Once he realized you were struggling, Leon popped his brow, “No hello?”

“Hello?”

Leon nodded, slowly, “Hi. So, how’ve you-”

“Um, I gotta go!” And, you sprinted towards your office, leaving Leon staring confused at your retreating figure.

You spent the next few days avoiding Leon like that by running into the bathrooms whenever he passed in the hall, ducking under the table if you both decided to go into the food hall, and sitting on the opposite side of the table in the briefing room for mandatory meetings. You didn’t care if you were blatantly obvious that you were avoiding Leon. You knew he was smart enough to know that, but you weren’t ready to confront him. Thankfully, Leon hadn’t pushed you to meet with him, but he did send you many concerned glances whenever you both were in close vicinity. Until today, at least, when a light knock on your doorframe took you out of your work.

“I thought you said you were leaving early today, Poppy.”

“She did leave.”

Your head snapped up, “Agent Kennedy-”

“Oh so, it’s agent now?” Leon questioned, welcoming himself into your office and closing the door behind him. His eyes narrowed and expression stern, indicating that he was fully serious. Admittingly, he played into your game for a while, but he grew tired of you running away. He too wanted answers to his questions.

You looked away, not liking the way your heart ached when he looked at you with that condescending expression on his face. It made you feel like you disappointed him, “This isn’t very work appropriate.”

“Is there something wrong with co-workers visiting each other?” Leon questioned, sitting himself in your guest chair.

You countered, “It’s after work hours.”

“That hasn’t stopped us before, has it?”

You bit your lip, having no rebuttal against him. Silence cloaked the room as the both of you waited for someone to say something. When he knew that you weren’t willing to give a response, Leon pushed the conversation.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Leon stated blandly, “Why is that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Leon spat, “I’ve seen you run into bathrooms, hide under furniture, and make up lame excuses whenever I’m around. What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing, you don’t have to worry about it,” You buried your face in your hands, already feeling a headache forming from the result of a long day, “Please, Leon, just-”

“What happened to Agent Kennedy?” Leon sassed, his tone indicating that he was choosing to be petty.

You groaned, “Please, don’t make this any harder for me.”

“And, you don’t think it’s hard for me as well?”

You scoffed, “Why would it be hard for you?”

Leon pressed, “Because the person I’m fucking is avoiding me like I still have Las Plagas.”

“So, is that what I am?” You laughed in disbelief, “Just someone to fuck?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed on?” Leon grimaced at his own words, but continued to stand his ground.

“We didn’t agree on anything, Leon. Shit just happened.”

“And what about now? What changed?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. One moment we’re no strings attached and the next moment we’re eating pizza like we’re a couple. You confuse me, Leon. You lead me on, and I don’t know how to feel about you,” You took deep breaths, trying your best not to overreact or become too emotional, but you were failing.

“And, how do you feel about me?”

“For fucks sake,” And, you snapped, “I love you, Leon! Can’t you fucking see that!?”

The cloak of silence engulfed you two again, only the sounds of your ragged breathing piercing through the air. As you caught Leon’s eyes for the first time, you finally broke down with that familiar lump in your throat and blur in your eyes.

“And, I’m fucking heartbroken sitting here infront of you, acting like everything’s okay when it’s not. I feel like my heart is ripping out of my chest, because I confessed my love for you and you don’t feel the same,” You sniffled, trying your best to hold your tears back as they trailed down your face.

“You confessed to me? When?” Leon questioned in disbelief.

“When you came back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me make this easy for you then,” You paused, “Who’s Ada?”

Leon’s eyes widened, jaw slightly slacking. He didn’t answer you, just staring at you as he internally debated what was the best answer. But, he didn’t know what to say to you and even more so what to say to himself.

You purse your lips, wiping away your last tears before confidently speaking, “Exactly, so until you figure out your feelings, please don’t talk to me.”

…..

It’s been two weeks since you and Leon last talked – or rather interacted. There were no longer any lingering looks, no hiding behind furniture, and no running into bathrooms. It wasn’t an effort to stay out of each other's lives anymore, it rather came naturally as you both had differing missions. During your time apart, you took much time to think for yourself – healthily at that – and unravel the situation. Beneficially, you were doing slightly better than before such as eating more and sleeping more. But ultimately, Leon was still on your mind 24/7. And, being invited to the President’s gala dedicated towards rewarding and celebrating the researchers and agents who contributed to saving Ashley did you no justice in keeping your mind off Leon.

“Doing okay?” Poppy found you sitting alone in the corner with a large glass of champagne.

“Yeah, just taking a break,” You sighed, craning your neck to loosen up the tense muscles, “I don’t know how much longer I can take people coming up to thank me or tell me how great my research is.”

Poppy laughed, popping some of the table candy into her mouth, “What? Don’t like being the center of attention?”

You itched at your face, skin feeling heavy with the makeup that covered your dark circles, “Not when I have to dress up and act prim and proper all the time. Like, could we have not done this in an email or something?”

Poppy took her flute of champagne and gently tapped the rim against yours, “Cheers to that, I could be home watching TV.”

You both shot back your drinks, relishing in the sweet flavor and bubbly texture. You and Poppy chatted for a moment before she was taken away to meet more people, leaving you back in your lonely corner. Eventually, after sitting for a while, you became bored, having already met with most people or just on low energy in general. You didn’t want to take another flute of champagne, fearful that it’d make you more sluggish than you already were, so you motivated yourself to make your way to the snack table and hoped that something citrus-y could wake you up.

Just as you were about to grab a scoop from the fruit bowl, a voice from behind you caught your attention, “Hey! You’re the agent that discovered that I got kidnapped, right?”

Turning around, you came face to face with Ashley, “I had a bit of help.”

“Thanks, you saved my life,” Ashley smiled, hugging you with appreciation before taking your hand and dragging you towards another part of the gala, “Hey, let me introduce you to my dad!”

“Actually-”

You tried to protest, but you already found yourself face to face with the President.

“Ashley! So, that’s where you ran off to. Who’s this?”

You turned towards the man, body instantly stiffening with formality, “Mr. President.”

Ashley smiled, “This is the agent that discovered that I got kidnapped.”

The President gave you a nod, “Thank you for saving my daughter.”

Feeling awkward in the presence of such high authority, you just smiled and fiddled with your empty fingers. Before you could excuse yourself, Ashley perked up, “Dad look! It’s Leon!”

Fuck. Just what you needed.

The President turned towards Leon and gave him a firm handshake with much more adoration and affection than what he gave you, “I knew I could count on you, Leon. You’re a valuable asset.”

You and Leon connected eyes for a brief moment, his eyes lingering before Leon focused his attention back to the President and acknowledged his words, “I couldn’t have succeeded without my partner.”

Leon and the President continued chatting as you stood there silently, thoughts about your fruit bowl long gone. You choked at Leon’s words, definitely knowing that he was referring to you but not directly. It’s been so long since you’ve heard Leon’s voice and seen Leon’s face, all of your progress of moving on fell back to ground level as your heart longed for him. You stood there awkwardly, having felt like you were very out of place. You were zoned out for most of the conversation or at least until you noticed Ashley inching closer towards Leon. Her laughter was louder, more forced as she clung on Leon’s arm. She pressed herself up against him, causing a sickening feeling to brew in your stomach. But that feeling was nothing compared to seeing Leon do nothing to brush off Ashley from his side.

At this moment, you were glad you never touched the fruit bowl, knowing that it would’ve come up from your front seat view of Leon and Ashley. Unfortunately, the heaps of alcohol were starting to get to you as nausea and fatigue washed over your consciousness. Picking up a glass of water from a passing staff member, you took a few heavy gulps before inserting yourself back into the conversation, “Please excuse me.”

For the most part, you were ignored which you didn’t mind too much, having been able to slip away unnoticed. Briskly walking out of the main room, you found yourself stumbling through long halls, almost identical to the last before somehow locating a low leveled balcony overlooking a large open field of grass and garden. You untangled the curtains and softly closed the elegant door behind you, shielding yourself into isolation as you walked towards the balcony’s edge and leaning your hip against the cold stone. Looking out into the night, you sighed a breath of relief as the rush of cool air enveloped your flushed body.

You lost track of time staring at the stars above you, drunk thoughts floating through your mind. Specifically, thoughts about Leon, then Leon and Ashley, and then Leon and you – or rather Leon without you. At this point, you hated how your thoughts were consumed by him, almost like your entire life revolved around him. You wondered, how did you get yourself to this point?

Groaning in frustration, you fished out a spare cigarette and lighter from your person, pressing the soft paper between your lips and reaching up to light the tip. You rotated the gears of the lighter to ignite a flame; however, the cool breeze of the night prevented the flame from growing high enough. You cursed, trying again and again, but to no avail – until a large hand helped enclose your cigarette and block the wind from extinguishing your flame. You followed the hand’s owner, surprised to see Leon standing before you, having no conclusion on how he made it past the balcony doors without you noticing or hearing him.

You slacked your lips, letting the cigarette slightly fall just enough to let you speak, “I thought you didn’t like smokers.”

“You only smoke when you’re stressed,” Leon shrugged, still cupping his hand near your cigarette.

You didn’t comment, lighting your cigarette and sheathing your lighter. You took a long, deep breath before blowing out the smoke in the opposite direction where Leon stood. For a moment, you did debate whether to blow smoke in his face, but you weren’t that petty. Yet.

“Long night, I guess.”

“Yeah, same,” Leon scrunched his brows, referring to these awful parties that always praised the small number of agents and soldiers that were lucky enough to return home to their families.

Deciding to act civilized, you lightly chuckled, flicking the ashes off your cigarette, “Not enjoying the spotlight, hero boy?”

“Can’t say I do this often.”

You didn’t reply and found no need to keep the conversation going. Maybe it was awkward, but the smell of nicotine helped ease your nerves. You enjoyed watching the smoke as it dissipated into the night air, only to be blown away by the gentle breeze which made you and the garden bushes shiver.

You heard Leon rustling before a bit of heavy weight landed on your shoulders and the residual warmth engulfed your arms and torso. Stubbing out your cigarette, you blow out one last drag before looking over at Leon in his button up and instinctively gripping his jacket around you tighter. You usually brought your own jackets to these kinds of events, but you didn’t expect to run and hide outside for this long.

“Kenn-”

“Keep it, you’re cold,” Leon leaned up against the balcony, “And, call me Leon.”

You didn’t know how to answer him, so you chose not to. You didn’t feel like you could be personal with him, at least not anytime soon.

Noticing your lack of interaction, Leon piped up, “So, what’s on your mind?”

You cringed at the question, shrugging through his jacket, “Things.”

“Like?”

“Personal things.”

Another blanket of silence covered you both, but this time, it was definitely awkward as you no longer had your smoke to distract you with.

“You-”

“I’m-”

You purse your lips, “Sorry, you go first.”

“Please, I insist.”

For the first time since he came out, you and Leon made eye contact as you both tried to read each other's emotions. You debated whether or not to say anything to him, knowing that you had weeks of pent up emotions and unresolved tension. Thinking about Poppy, voices about weighing your pros and cons came back to mind. Pros with talking with Leon were gaining yourself a sense of conclusion, whereas the cons were getting your heart broken – again. Somewhere along the line of thinking, your heart must’ve made the decision for you, throwing logic completely out the question. While gazing into his blue eyes, your pupils shook, causing you to close your eyes and take a deep breath for confidence.

With a small and broken voice, you softly spoke in a volume borderline inaudible, “You can’t- you can’t keep doing this to me, Leon.”

Leon pinched his eyes closed, almost like he was in physical pain, “I know.”

“You’re hurting me,” Your voice quivered.

“I know.”

“I’m confused at your words and actions.”

“I know.”

“And, this whole time I feel like I’ve just been used.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, you grit your teeth in frustration and throwing his jacket off your shoulders, “Fuck, Leon, can you say anything besides I know!?”

You didn’t mean to shout at him, but it just came out like that. You really shouldn’t have yelled. You were never the type to speak out from emotions anyways. Plus, you didn’t need to draw attention to yourselves had there been any unseen party goers straggling in the hallway.

Watching Leon frown from your outburst made your heart ache before his eyes shifted towards something sympathetic. He shifted closer towards you, picking up his jacket and fixing it back on you before placing a warm hand over yours, “I’ve figured out my feelings.”

Tears flooded your vision as the air in your lungs crushed your chest. It didn’t matter what Leon’s answer was, you just weren’t ready to hear it, so you did the first thing that came to mind. You ran away, “No, no, no, don’t do this to me right now, please. I can’t do this anymore, just leave me alone, please.”

With his lightning reaction, Leon caught you by the arms and stopped you halfway towards the door. His grip was strong enough to hug you comfortably in his chest, but nowhere near tight enough to be painful or uncomfortable. Still, you pathetically fought against him, weakly slapping his upper chest; although, a part of you really didn't want him to let you go.

Leon hugged you tighter, holding you closely and consoled your hysterics the best he could, “Shh, baby please, just let me explain.”

You halted your struggling, “Let go of me.”

"You don't mean it," Leon shook his head, "I don't believe you."

"Le-"

“Damn it, Y/N!”

Leon's abrupt outburst killed whatever thought you had and silenced you into submission. Of all the years you've known him, never once has he ever raised his voice at you nor looked at you with such passionate eyes blazing with equal parts frustration and determination.

“I will tell you everything, okay? Ask me anything you want, I’ll give you only the truth. I just want to talk to you, please?”

He continued when you didn't answer him.

“I don’t want to leave you like this, but if you decide that you don’t like my answers or that you don’t like me, just say the word and everything we’ve ever had stops,” Leon looked down at you hopeful, releasing his hold as a sign that he trusts you not to dash away. Instead, he fixed his jacket around you as you didn't realize it was halfway down your torso.

"Deal?" Leon said.

Hesitantly, you nodded. Maybe it was his change in demeanor or thoughtful speech or the smell of his cologne engulfing you – whatever it was, you were compelled to accept the temptations of a devil. And yours was Leon and his sparkling eyes under the moonlit sky.

“Say it, please,” His tone returned back to a soft and gentle level as he cupped your face with one hand and brushed your bottom lip with his thumb.

You gulped nervously, yet determined for answers, “You have one minute.”

Leon let out a sigh of relief before flashing a small, crooked smile and thanking you for giving him a chance.

“Ada was someone I met at Raccoon City. We spent a bit of time together, trying to get to Umbrella’s underground lab. She kissed me, but we had our differences and ended up parting ways.”

“Differences?” You perked.

“I wanted to save the people, but she didn’t," It was a simple answer, but Leon didn't have time to elaborate while on your timer, “Then, I met Ada in Spain.”

"Wait," You paused and rewound the storyline, “I thought only you and Claire survived.”

Leon nodded with a far off look on his face as he reminisced his old days, “I thought so too, I don’t even know how she’s alive or what she’s doing, but she was in Spain.”

“Leon, why didn’t you tell us? She could be dangerous, she could’ve been working for Los Illuminados!” You scolded with a deep frown, wondering how he could've trusted someone like that.

“No, she isn’t," Leon denied, "She’s working for someone else though, I don’t know who.”

Getting sick of talking about Ada and nearing the end of your minute, you jabbed, “I’m failing to see how this involves me.”

“This involves you, because I can’t get you out of my mind! At first, I thought it was all physical, and that was okay with me. But, we started working on more projects together, and I could finally see you for who you are. Like how intelligent you are in the meeting rooms, how your eyes crinkle when you smile at Poppy, and how you always look at me with your sparkling eyes. I didn’t even know when I started falling for you. I looked forward to seeing you every Friday, even if nothing were to happen, I still wanted your company. I wanted to see you for as long as I could, so that’s why I started visiting your office more, inviting you out more, figuring out your likes and dislikes. God, I’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

Without realizing, Leon caged you against the balcony with his hands on either side of your hips and drew soft circles. He ghosted his lips on the nape of your neck before following the shell of your ear and whispered, “‘I’m so fucking obsessed with you, when I look at you I create a future with us. Just me and you, and maybe some little ones later if you wanted.”

You sighed in pleasure as you responded to his kisses, one leg instinctively hooking around his thigh as to bring him closer to you. Leon accepted your beckoning and closed the gap between each other's chests. Face to face, you could feel his breath on your lips as he laid his forehead on yours. There was barely anything keeping you from kissing each other, something you two had never done before while hooking up as it seemed too intimate for friends with benefits to do.

Looking into his eyes, you didn't need to ask if he were sincere. You could see all of him already, and he made sure you knew that he was willing to be a hundred percent and more vulnerable. While observing, you noticed how his eyes darted between yours frantically and how his Adam's apple bobbed in a nervous gulp. You were taking too long to answer.

“Why are you so scared?” You asked gently, placing a hand on his cheek.

He nuzzled into your touch, “I’m scared of hurting you. I didn’t know if I would come back from that mission. I made a promise that I didn’t even know if I could keep.”

“You came back,” You explained, now calm and confident as you said, “That’s all that matters.”

Leon's eyes lit up in delight with a breath of relief. Without any warning, Leon’s lips were all over your face, kissing your cheeks, temple, and forehead. You shied back, embarrassed from his affection. He must’ve known this as well, smirking from seeing the blush surfaced on your cheeks. Palm facing outwards, you partially blocked your face as you looked away, “Don’t look at me.”

“You look beautiful,” Leon gently removed your guarding hand and held it in his with a comforting caress before taking his other hand to guide your chin back to lock eyes, “Can I kiss you again?”

You didn’t answer him with words, opting to crane your neck forward and pressing your lips onto his. Without hesitation, Leon melted into your kiss by sliding the hand on your chin along your jawline and adjusting your angle to deepen the kiss. Arching your back, you circled your arms around his broad shoulders. Leon’s hands moved back to your hips, effortlessly propping you to sit on the balcony’s edge. You gasped in pleasure as you wrapped your legs around Leon’s hips, feeling him pressed against your core. Leon pulled you closer, teasingly grinding his hips against yours.

“Leon!” You hissed, slapping his chest, “We’re at a party. We-”

“- could get caught?” Leon pulled back with a smirk, “Don’t be loud then.”

You scolded him to which he laughed joyously. As much as you were annoyed with his antics, you knew that you’d never be able to forget how big his smile was and how happy he looked with you in his arms. So, you laughed with him with a large smile on your face as well, feeling the most safe and comfortable in this moment.

He held you closely, listening to the beat of his heart, "As much as I want to take you right now, I want us to take it slow. There's so much I want to show how I can treat you. Until then, let's wait until we're both ready."

…..

Leon had gone out of his way to make you feel like you were his world. Every morning, he’d send you a short message even if it were just a hello. If you had time before work, he’d meet you at your apartment and take you out for a quick breakfast before heading to the office. If you happened to be running late, Leon still made sure to drop off your favorite drink before carrying out his own responsibilities. During lunch, Leon would sit extra close to you, enough to indicate to onlookers that something was brewing between the two of you, but distant enough to not make anyone feel uncomfortable. After work, Leon took you out for dinner or walked you home if you were feeling particularly tired. This new found routine eventually became a lifestyle. Leon attended to all your needs and took extra care of you. Although sex with Leon was no doubt amazing, you both found solace in the emotional comfort and companionship. That is until one day you invited Leon over to bake cookies for Poppy’s birthday.

“There’s eggshells in the mix, Leon.”

“Leon, you didn’t turn on the oven.”

“Don’t eat the chocolate, Leon!”

“Leon! How did you get flour in your hair?”

You sighed, realizing a bit too late that the flawless Leon Kennedy actually did not have a knack for cooking. Leon blushed with embarrassment, wiping the back of his hand on his forehead and thus smearing more flour on his messy face. Putting your batch of the cookies in the oven, you glided over towards Leon to brush his face clean before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, "Just get cleaned up, 'kay?

Leon nodded sheepishly, heading over towards your bathroom and showering while the cookies baked. With only your batch of cookies surviving the mixing phase, you modified the recipe to make mini cookies instead. Thankfully, they were done and set to cool by the time you finished cleaning up. Realizing your clothes were dusted with flour, you made your way to your closet to change into one of Leon’s large t-shirts. Just as the shirt draped over your body, Leon entered with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and water still dripping down his glistening chest.

“It’s rude to stare you know,” Leon teased, stretching his bicep on display as he toweled his hair.

You shuffled your way over to him, teasingly drawing your fingers along the skin of his exposed hipline, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Leon laughed before sneaking his hands under your thighs and propping you on top of your dresser, “You look good in my clothes. I don’t know how much longer I can resist you.”

You knew Leon liked to tease you, having gotten used to his sly comments by now. But, you’d been waiting so long since you’ve last had him in you, having Leon barely naked in front of you awoke the desires you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Rubbing your hands along his damp biceps, you trailed your hands all over his chest and up to hold his jawline and bring him in for a deep kiss. You broke the kiss, “Then don’t resist.”

Leon went to protest, probably about to spew some nonsense about waiting for the right time or wanting it to be a special moment, but you’d already forgiven him and any moment with Leon felt special to you. You hushed him impatiently, “Shut up and fuck me or I’ll do it myself.”

You knew you won by his stern set features and darkening eyes, knowing that Leon always hated you pleasuring yourself without his assistance, “Like hell you will.”

Without warning, Leon picked you up again and headed towards your bed, tossing you onto the mattress with a small bounce. You yelped, half in surprise and half in excitement as you tried to sit up; however, Leon stopped you by crawling over your lower body and pining your wrists above your head, “You wanna say that again?”

You tilted your head not-so-innocently, “Say what again, Leon?”

With his free hand, Leon wrapped it around your neck and added a small amount of pressure as a warning, “Don’t test me.”

You licked your lips, absolutely loving Leon’s change in demeanor. Sometimes, it was too easy to rile him up, “I said, shut up and fuck me or I’ll do it myself.”

Silence fell between you two as you challenged each other to break first. After a couple moments, you started to believe that maybe you said something wrong by the way Leon had yet to respond or react to you. But this sliver of doubt you held was just enough for Leon to play right into your vulnerability. And with a sly smile, Leon flipped you on your stomach and repositioned your hands to grip a pole on your metal headboard, “Let go and this all stops, do you understand?”

“Wha-”

Your question was interrupted as Leon released your wrists, bundled his shirt towards your shoulder blades, and lightly smacked your ass. You jolted with a gasp, fingers tightening around the pole. You heard Leon throw something, probably getting rid of his towel. You hated that you couldn’t tell what he was doing nor could you see him in his glory, but that added towards the excitement of it all as you guessed what you were going to feel and experience next. Leon hovered above you, lips ghosting around the shell of your ear, “I don’t repeat myself, love.”

You clenched at the pet name, whimpering from the ache between your legs. You felt Leon smirk against your skin as he pressed kisses all around your neck and shoulder. He paused to take a pillow and place it comfortably under your pelvis to prop your hips higher for him. Taking a shaky breath in, you readjusted your fingers to grip the pole even tighter than before, “I understand.”

There was a lack of response as the weight of Leon’s body disappeared, leaving you wondering what was to come next. Through all of Leon’s previous training, he’s perfected stealth movements. No matter how much you closed your eyes to concentrate on focusing, you were well aware that Leon had the ability to exit the room without you even noticing. It felt like forever as your breathing became labored even if you hadn’t moved. The anticipation was killing you, inside and out. Just as you were about to question him, a small pop adjacent to the sound of a bottle opening pierced the air before what sounded like a glop of substance was squeezed out and rubbed between Leon’s hands. You stayed silent, letting your imagination guide you as Leon’s hands finally touched your body. He started at your shoulders, massaging small, pressured circles into the tense muscles. Once he felt you relax against him, Leon moved to give the same treatment along your back, waist, and hips. Although he wasn’t pleasing you sexually, Leon’s hands still felt euphoric as he trailed his hands along your bodyline.

Suddenly, he stopped at your ass, squirting some more oil onto his hands before gripping the flesh and spreading you apart. Instinctually, you buried your face into the sheets and spread your legs as you felt Leon’s lingering eyes on you. Slipping a thumb forward, Leon swiped up and down your pussy lips, “So wet and I haven’t touched you yet.”

You grit your teeth, “Don’t tease me.”

Without warning, Leon slipped his thumb in fully, rubbing against your inner walls as you mewled out in response, “You asked for that.”

“Asshole,” You muttered, still trying to adjust to him. Sure you were no stranger to having Leon’s fingers buried in you; however, it’s been so long since you’ve stretched yourself out.

Leon chose to ignore you, finding your twitching lips more entertaining than your false resistance. He’d gotten used to it by now anyways. Leon explored your tight cunt a little more with his thumb before releasing his hold on you, “Guess we’ll have to do this the long way, not that I mind.”

You heard Leon shuffle before his soft, wet lips connected with your pussy lips. Licking and sucking, Leon teased and abused your already swollen clit. For extra lubrication, Leon spit on you before shoving his tongue into your awaiting hole, causing you to lurch forward. You moaned out his name as he quickly brought his hands up to hold your hips stable. From the lack of sexual activity, you were surprised to find yourself so sensitive to his licks and unable to hold yourself still for him. It was almost like this was your first time getting eaten out.

Your thoughts clouded as Leon pushed his face deeper into you, tongue stretching beyond your tight rim as he fucked you. Shuddering with pleasure, you started to gain a sense of control as you rocked your hips back to push him deeper into you. But just as you did so, Leon retracted his tongue and replaced it with two of his fingers as his lips returned back to your clit. You cried out, confused at how Leon's fingers could make you feel this way when you knew his dick in you would feel even better. Had you gone without him for too long?

You didn't get a chance to dwell much longer as Leon's long fingers curled up and brushed your pleasure point, causing you to cry out even more and subconsciously releasing one of your hands. Leon immediately noticed this, "Calling quits already? I never knew you were so weak."

You hissed out in annoyance which quickly changed into pleasure as Leon continued fingering deeper into you. The way he pumped in and out of you, foamed up your sticky consistency as it dripped all over his hand. With your limited vision, the audio of your wet squelching intensified as Leon quickened his pace.

“Ready for three?”

Leon didn’t wait for an answer before adding another finger into you. At this point, your legs were quivering with delight, barely being strong enough to hold you up. Just as he rubbed your most sensitive part, your legs twitched harshly causing you to give out and slump back into the bed and pillow. Without missing a beat, Leon continued fingering you as his other hand rubbed small circles around your clit. Your moans intensified, legs still shaking from the double pleasuring sensation.

“Wait- Leon- ngh-”

You tried taking deep breaths to calm yourself, but you knew your climax was coming despite the efforts to prolong it. Leon seemed to know this as well as he – again – increased his speed and skill. He shushed you, prompting you to climax, “Come on, love, I know you can do it. Just let go, I promise to give you more. Just give yourself to me.”

Instantly, you clenched around him, feeling yourself cum around the bundle of his fingers as he helped you ride it out. Your loud moans transitioned to deep gasps as you took a moment to catch your breath. Leon flipped you over, giving you a chaste kiss, “Still doing okay?”

“Yes,” You breathed, “Can I let go now?”

You looked up at Leon with a pleading look. Leon debated for a moment before obliging, knowing that your arms must’ve started feeling sore by now, “Fine, but keep your eyes on me. I want to see your face when you cum on me this time.”

You looked away, embarrassed. Leon chuckled, finding your reaction adorable as he took the initiative to pump himself and slide his tip along your super sensitive clit. Leon pushed himself into you with a vice grip on your hips, groaning from how wet you still were, “I should’ve fucked you sooner.”

Before he could fully bottom out, you’d already lifted your hips to indicate to him to start thrusting into you; however, Leon did the exact opposite as he pulled back out just to fuck his tip into you over and over again, “Impatient are we? What’s the rush? We’ve got all night.”

Having enough with his constant teasing, you mustered all your strength to push Leon back as you straddled him with your hands firmly in his toned chest. Power surged through your veins as Leon surrendered himself beneath you. Although you know Leon could easily overpower you and that he probably let you turn the tables on him for his own entertainment, you let your ego fuel your confidence as you took his hardened dick into your hand and guided him inside you as you sank downwards.

You watched as Leon’s face contorted with pleasure, trying his best to contain his reaction despite how good you felt engulfing him with your hot walls. Rocking up and down slowly, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I told you to shut up or I’ll do it myself.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders to hold your weight, you thrust your hips along his shaft, pumping him from tip to balls. Leon’s groans grew louder as he put his hands on your hips to help you increase your speed. With the support of Leon, you postured back up and used your body weight to slam down onto his dick, feeling him reach the deepest depths of you. Your pussy clenched around him, throwing your head back from the pleasure.

A smack to your ass shifted your attention back to Leon as he scowled at you, “I told you to keep your eyes on me.”

Rolling your eyes, you continued to ride him without answering him. Undoubtedly, Leon glared at you, pushing you off of him and pining you back down into missionary, “You asked for it, hope you're ready.”

You went to call out his bluff; however, Leon thrusted himself fully into you. You cried out from the fullness, unsuspecting that Leon would enter so roughly into you. But your clenching cunt revealed that you secretly enjoyed how rough he was with you. With that in mind, Leon thrusted roughly into you, pushing your body higher and higher upon the mattress. Leon intertwined his hands in yours, pinning you down in place as he pounded himself deeper into you. Usually, Leon focuses on the sight of you swallowing him whole, watching as his shaft disappears into you and reappears wetter than before. However, as Leon slammed his hips into yours and elicited deafening skin slapping audio, he was solely focused on you, reading every passing emotion across your face. He was studying you, figuring out what you liked versus what you loved. He’d try different angles, watching and listening to your reactions and changing his technique accordingly. He kept at it until a single harsh thrust had you tightening against his cock, gripped his hands, and moaning out his name. With that information, Leon smiled and monopolized his findings as he fixated on hitting your g-spot repeatedly, “Gotcha.”

Leon pounded into you, harsher and deeper than before as he chased his own high. He guided you, telling you when to wait, so that you could both cum together. You struggled to keep your eyes open from how much stimulation you were receiving. But the look in Leon’s eyes convinced you to keep yours open.

“I’m almost, fuck, I’m almost done,” Leon’s thrusts became sloppy, yet still hitting you where you needed him.

You chanted his name over and over as you began to cum for the second time, “Please- I-”

Without releasing your hands, Leon pumped into you one last time before pulling out and squirting his cum over your lower abdomen. Leon muttered a few curses before lazily falling next to you and kissing you. Leon helped you take off his shirt and wipe his cum off of you, throwing it somewhere on the floor before pulling you closer to him and burying himself in the crook of your neck. You receive his cuddles, lacing your fingers into his messy, damp hair. Leon kissed your neck up to your lips, “Doing okay?”

You nodded with a soft smile, “Help me to the bathroom?”

Leon obliged, lifting you up and placing you in the bathtub to share a bath together. Soaking in the warm water, your back rested against his chest. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder as he wrapped his large arms around your midsection like you’d disappear any second, “Leon?”

He kissed your shoulder, “Yes?”

“Do you love me?” You asked shyly.

Leon chuckled, holding you tighter against him, “Of course, I love you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You kissed him again, “Good, because I love you too.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy oneshot #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 months

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Dare to Hope, Dare to Dream (Part 1/?)

Synopsys: For three years now, Astarion and his love have been relegated to living in the shadows as he lost his ability to walk in the sun. But one day hope is reignited, and the vampire can't help but reminisce how he got where he is now.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: violence, abuse, talks of SA (if there is anything else that should be tagged, please do let me know)

Word count: 3240

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

There had been a time in Astarion’s life when all he knew was pain. Physical. Emotional. Mental. Pain.

Two hundred years could be simply wrapped up with one word – abuse. What he wanted didn’t matter, what he thought meant nothing, all Astarion was reduced to was a piece of meat to lure victims for his master.

He was flayed for the most minor things, starved and entombed; he had his skin carved apart and then told to lay on his ruined back just to appease the vile tastes of the vampire he was sired to.

But now… now Astarion knew nothing but peace.

In a house which had been rebuilt from top to bottom, walls coloured cream and accented with gold to bring in as much light as he could, he got to live out his life in complete and utter bliss. He never expected to create a home for himself, never expected to live long enough to know what peace meant. Every second of his life had been shrouded by Cazador and his looming presence, like a dark cloud over the summer sky, but the vampire was long gone. Astarion no longer had to watch over his back whether a snap of a twig would be a boar or his old master.

Now the snaps of twigs meant a warm fire being lit in the hearth, a soft body curling against his as they enjoyed their time together.

That was another thing he never thought of having – someone who cared for him. Astarion was aware that years ago, there had been two loving elves, who’d cherished him, loved and worried for him. They called him Astarion for he was their “little star”. From time to time, he did wonder whatever happened to his parents, but then he thought of who he was now, what he was, and pushed those wandering thoughts away. Maybe one day he’d be strong enough to seek them out, but for now, he would enjoy the start of his new life with his love. His fearless leader. His Y/N.

As she lay against his chest, her back to him, he couldn’t help but be grateful for this crazy human to have entered his life. It was that damned tadpole that’d started to push the domino tower over, but it had been her that toppled the pieces that still threatened to stay standing. And despite all the horrors they’d had to go through, he would willingly put himself in the line of fire if it meant finding her once more.

Though as much peace as he had, not all of it was perfect to Astarion’s chagrin. He’d killed Cazador, slain him with his own hands, yes, but as Y/N had begged him to not ascend, pulling him away from the dark urge, the tadpole had been the only thing keeping him walking in the soon. And soon enough, it had to be eradicated as well, unless he wanted to turn into a mind flayer.

It hurt, that realisation as when he stood at the port and felt the sun kiss his skin, but where he’d come to relish in the warm feeling, it was now poison, turning him to ash, making him resign to live his life in the shadows of the night once more.

For two hundred years he’d been deprived of day, and the pain of losing that was even worse than the pain of the sun blistering his body. Tears had sprung out of their own volition and he dashed to hide, raising his cloak and trying to keep any of the rays at bay. As he ran for cover, quick steps followed behind, and when he curled in a ball behind some crates, body rocking back and forth, gentle arms had wrapped around him, a dark cloak pulled over their heads.

Astarion had already accepted to have to spend his life alone, he’d never make Y/N go with him to live like a spawn, but he wasn’t alone. Sure, they had created a bond he had hoped would last well after their adventures, but with the issue of walking in the sun back on the table, he knew it was too large of an ask. To give up one's life in the sun and forever live in greys and blacks – Astarion would never request Y/N such a thing.

Even as she adjusted the material over their heads, he stared up at her, trying to memorise each and every feature for the last time. He was prepared for the heartbreak. As painful as it would be to go on alone, the thought of Y/N happy and thriving would be enough to staunch his bleeding undead heart.

And yet, when he tried to say goodbye, tried to ask for one last kiss, she knocked him on the back of the head before pulling him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You stupid vampire,” Y/N muttered against the skin of his neck. “Where you go, I go. The sun doesn’t matter.”

Astarion wanted to argue, to tell her he didn’t deserve her giving up her life for him, but she silenced him with a gentle press of her lips.

“You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” came his sure reply, tears still rolling down his cheeks, and his hands clutching at her waist.

“Then please believe it when I say I love you. I want to spend my life, however long it may be with no one but you. Where doesn’t matter, as long as we are together.”

Once again, Astarion was ready to argue, but with a single shake of her head, Y/N silenced him. “You told me I cannot make decisions for you. But you can’t make decisions for me either. I want this.” She cupped his face between her loving palms. “I. Want. You.”

And that sort of settled the argument. The guilt still gnawed at Astarion from the inside out whenever he saw how tired Y/N got as she had to adjust to a new sleeping schedule, the couple of months while moving from a life of day to a life of night made his heart ache in sorrow. And the moments when he caught a glimpse of her on their balcony, the last rays of the day beaming down onto her body, making her glow like a deity seemed like a cruel reminder of what Astarion had conscripted Y/N to.

But she never complained. She never even mentioned how much she must miss the world when it wasn’t bathed in shadows. Instead, Y/N always turned to him with the brightest of smiles, one that could rival the burning star in the sky itself, and it made all his doubts vanish to some secluded corner of his mind.

At that moment though, Astarion rearranged himself in the settee, a large book in his hand as he studied embroidery patterns while Y/N ventured off only whoknowswhere.

It had been her idea he should look into tailoring not only as a pastime activity but as a profession. His eye for detail and fashion was unmistakable, and well, it gave him something to do, something to occupy his mind, and, potentially, once he gave into Y/N’s pestering, he could be persuaded into opening up a full-blown business. But for now, Astarion simply entertained the idea and turned to studying new patterns and fabrics.

For the better part of an hour, his darling had lounged with him, discussing what threads would suit best with what colours before disappearing between the rows of the library.

When the larger renovation of the house had been completed, and they at least had a bedroom and a bathroom, the two had taken on a project to present to the other. Astarion had taken it upon himself to convert the rooftop into a beautiful garden with blossoms that would bloom under the moonlight, having scoured the markets and paid ridiculous amounts of money for the bioluminescent flowers, while Y/N had decided to forego having a ballroom and turned it into a library for Astarion.

It’d been a gift unlike any other, and he’d cried the day she finally pushed open the large oak doors to reveal shelf after shelf, row after row of books. She knew how much he loved them, and how, especially now that he’d been robbed of experiencing the world to its fullest, books would take him on adventures across the universe, he couldn’t do so himself.

But what had brought him down on his knees was a large painting placed right above the entrance, and in the commission were the two of them, grinning at one another, Astarion’s lips pulled up in the widest smile, his vampire fangs on full display while Y/N had her arm wrapped around his waist, beautiful smile lines adorning her eyes and mouth.

For the first time in two centuries, Astarion had been able to see himself, and to have been depicted with such love and happiness gleaming on his face as he gazed at his lover was the only way he wished to be remembered in life as well.

With their painted twins watching over the little sanctuary, Astarion flipped a page, his scarlet eyes looking at the golden painting of the flowery embroidery pattern on a long white dress, and his chest constricted. It was something he so desperately wanted to see Y/N in one day if only he could step over his fears and propose when his sensitive ears picked up the sounds of creaking wood, small grunts and huffs, and then a loud thump from somewhere deep in the library.

“I’m okay!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the room, and Astarion sighed, closing the book.

“My darling, I would like for our lives together to be as long as possible.” He ventured deeper between the rows of shelves, finally coming up on Y/N who was scrambling from the floor. “But you and your incessant need to maim yourself seems to be quite the hindrance to my plans.”

How his clumsy human had been the one to become the leader of their rag-tag group while searching for a way to rid themselves of the mind-flayer tadpoles, was beyond Astarion, seeing as Y/N tripped and fell over every single pebble in her way. Even on thin air sometimes.

He extended a pale palm, and she took it with a soft smile. Just as she was ready to let it go and dust herself off, Astarion pulled her into his chest, pressing a gentle, but passion-filled kiss to her lips. “Please do refrain from doing things that might end up with you getting hurt. I rather like having you around.”

Y/N rolled her Y/E/C eyes at his dramatics, but nevertheless gave him a sweet peck. “I didn’t maim myself, I just took a little tumble.”

Instantly worry and guilt roiled through his stomach, no doubt showing on his face by the looks of her softening gaze. “Did I drink too much from you this morning?”

“No.” She cupped his cheeks, brushing a thumb over some unruly hairs of his brow. “My Star, you know you could never hurt me. You took what you needed, and you know I’d stop you if I felt it was too much.”

“I just…” he sighed, eyes cast to the ground.

“Star,” Y/N whispered, taking his chin between her fingers, and making him glance up at her. “I fell because my foot slipped. Not because I fell unwell after you fed from me. I am truly alright.”

Astarion took in a deep breath, eyes trailing along her neck where he could still see the faint marks of his fangs. Nothing like the brutal marks on his own left by Cazador who just wanted to inflict as much damage, to mark him as his spawn, but gentle pinpricks, not even her skin was raised.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I trust you.” And he sealed the promise with a kiss, Y/N humming in content against his cold lips. “But do tell me, what was so important you had to crawl all the way up there?” He surveyed the large bookshelf where on the very top row, he could see an empty spot.

“This.” Y/N untangled herself from Astarion’s hold, leaning down to pick up the book she’d fallen to the ground with, dusting off the cover with her hand. “I was looking for this one romance novel I remember getting ages ago, but when I was passing by these shelves, it almost seemed to be… I dunno… calling out? Whispering to me? There was this pull, and I just had to get it?”

Astarion sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Have we learned nothing about strange things calling our names and not responding?”

“It’s why I have you.” Y/N’s smile was saccharine, eyes full of mischief. “You’re my impulse control.”

“Well, clearly I’m doing a shitty job of that.”

“Oh relax,” she waved him off. “What’s the worst a magical book could do?”

“Famous last words,” Astarion muttered under his breath, but clearly there wasn’t anything he could do to dissuade Y/N from seeing whatever it was through. “You could have at least asked for help, you know. You remind me of it all the time.”

She gave him the most ferocious glare she could muster, scowling over her shoulder and Astarion had to suppress a laugh behind tightly pinched lips. “Just because I am shorter than you, does not mean I am incapable of getting one damned book.”

“I never said you couldn’t. Just that you might be… vertically challenged… with some balance issues.”

Y/N pointedly ignored the comment and opened the book.

Astarion poked her cheek with his nose, but she didn’t budge, eyes spitefully trained on the pages she was flipping through. “A silence treatment, really, my dear?”

She just tilted her head and hummed.

“Fine,” the vampire condeced. “If that is how you wish to play this, I have no qualms about getting down and dirty.” And his fingers were instantly pressing against Y/N’s ribs.

A sharp intake of breath invaded his ears before she began twisting and turning away from him, uncontained laughter ripping through the silence of the house.

“Alright, alright, I give,” Y/N managed to get out through a fit of laughter. “You win!”

A self-satisfied smile bloomed on Astarion’s face as he twisted her to face him. “And what exactly is my prize?”

“No vinegar added to your wine.” She lightly jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

“You wound me, my darling,” Astarion put a hand against his chest, before resuming the position he was in before, pulling Y/N’s back to him in a tight embrace.

She just hummed, reopening the book he’d taken her attention away from. “That’s what you get for doling out backhanded insults.”

“My darling, I would never dare insult the love of my life, let alone backhandedly. If anything, I do it face to –,”

Y/N’s gasp of wonder interrupted Astarion mid-sentence. “Where did you get this?”

His white brows furrowed, as he glanced over her shoulder at the large tome in her hands where the picture she was gazing at seemed to be glowing. “I didn’t get this.”

“Oh, come on.” He could practically feel the eye roll. “You don’t have to lie to me. You and I both know our house has been paid. And not by our own money.”

“My darling, I would never deceive you about my looting ways.” Astarion chuckled. “Believe me, you would be the first person to know of my new… gains, but this – this isn’t something I found. And I do think I would remember if I did.”

The library might have been a gift from Y/N, but Astarion knew of every single book in it, he knew the row and the place where to find it. Not once in the three years since they had lived at their home, had he seen such a tome.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she inspected it, on instinct, Astarion from where he’d perched his chin on her shoulder, pressed a gentle thumb between the worry lines, trying to smooth them out. He didn’t like it when she worried. She was supposed to be happy, content, smiling and laughing like in the painting of the two, though as inferior as it was in showcasing her true beauty. The time for worries was over.

“Maybe we should contact Gale?” Y/N mussed, closing the book and glancing over the cover before flipping it open again. “He could probably figure out what this is. If you didn’t put this here, and I for one, most definitely didn’t, it might be up his alley.”

Astarion groaned at the mention of the wizard. “My darling, you know better than anyone magical items and Gale,” he gagged on the name, “do not mix. He’d probably eat it before telling us anything useful about what’s in it or where it’s come from.”

“Get over it, will you?” She slapped his arm lightly, soft laughter escaping her lips. “It’s been years by now, and I’ve gotten you so many other pairs of boots.”

“The boots are the smallest of slights, darling.” Astarion pressed a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head and hid his nose in her hair. “I still remember how he tried to romance you, so I will be petty for as long as I wish to about anything I want to when it comes to that git. He tried to make you his.” His words were almost a whine of a petulant child. “When your heart was already mine. And I don’t share.

“Yes, my Star, I am very well aware of that.” Y/N chuckled, as he slowly swayed them to a song only he could hear, but both of them stopped as if frozen by a spell when her fingers turned the page.

There on the left side of the opening, a gorgeous image covered the paper by a peculiar image. On the top half of it was depicted the night sky, stars twinkling all around while the sun, not the moon, had been painted in gold so bright it almost seemed to glow and just underneath the sun a flower bloomed in full. On the bottom half was a flipped mirror image of the scene – the same flower only closed while the sky above it was that of a bright blue day and where the sun should have been, glowed a pale moon.

As his eyes scanned the drawings, they flitted to the right page as well. It wasn’t intricate, there weren’t any weaving designs around the edges, completely nothing else apart from twelve lines split apart in fours, written in a language Astarion couldn’t read, but there was something about the picture that made his chest squeeze and mind reel.

Hope. That was the feeling tightening around his heart. Hope of what the picture could mean – a flower of darkness blooming in the day and resting at night. A creature of night like him living a life in the sun.

“You know, you are always right, my love,” he mumbled as Y/N dragged a careful almost reverent finger along the paper, no doubt her mind coming to the same conclusion. “Maybe we should contact the wizard.”

When she turned around to face Astarion, his breath caught in his throat for such undeniable hope glimmered in her eyes. “I’ll write to him right now.”

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

A/N: So Tumblr is imposing text lenght now.... wtf... or is that just me? I was going to put this in a one-shot, but now I have to split it apart, so this is Part 1 or who knows. This man made of pixels on a screen is ruining my life. I want him now ! (with his consent, of course)

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romanarose · 9 months

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Honest Mistake (Cowritten with @missdictatorme)

Santiago "Pope" Garcia X Fem!Reader

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Birthday fic for me and Dolli! Her's was the 18th, mine is the 20th (TOMORROW AT LEAST IN THE US!!!) so we whipped this bad boy up together! It was a lot of fun, we worked well together and have similar humors. I think some parts you'll be able to tell who wrote what, but others it could honestly be either. I hope you enjoy, bc I think this is pretty stellar!

Fluff

5k words

Summary: Santi goes into a panic one morning when he realizes it's your birthday, the first since you and him got together at Will's engagement party... and he forgot. In a hurry, he calls on his team to pull off a special day in order to make it seem as if he this all planned out ahead of time.

Warnings: some smut (fingering, oral), uuuhhh that's it? Content warning implied/referenced Nicolas Cage.

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

“God baby, you just woke up this soaked?”

“It’s doesn’t help you’ve been grinding your morning wood into my ass the last hour.”

Santi had his finger down your Star Wars pj pants as the two of you laid in bed on this sleepy sunday morning, Santiago spooning you. Santi loved how you looked like this. Don’t get him wrong, he loved how you looked in business casual for work, he loved how you looked when he took you out on a fancy date and you got all dressed up, but something about this drove him crazy. Maybe it’s because only he got to see you like this, or maybe it’s because he got to see this so often instead of the one night stands he was used to. There was something so fucking intimate about it.

And it just turned him on like crazy.

“Not my fault you look this goddamn good”

“I literally have drool dried to my cheeks right n- oh” There it was. Santi curled his fingers and hit that perfect spot inside your gushing core.

“Only way I can get you to shut the fuck up, huh? Make you moan like a little whore?”

“Hmmmm I think you should be just a little bit nicer to me considering it’s my birthday.”

It took all his will power for Santi to not stop finger fucking you right then and there, his face hidden behind you hiding the horror at himself. BIRTHDAY?!?! It can’t be your birthday. That was tomorrow, wasn’t it? No, no it was a Sunday… next Sunday? No, next Sunday was Will’s wedding- oh fuck it’s your birthday.

“Sure is, hermosa” Santi mumbled into your neck. “And I have a great day planned for you, starting with…” Flinging the blankets off the bed, Santi scrambled his way down your body, sliding off the pants and diving in, large nose and all, into your cunt. Santi put every goddamn ounce of energy he had into making you scream, licking and sucking away, only breaking away to nibble on your thighs for a breath while he finger fucked you, never once letting up on the sensations he was giving.

“Fuck! Fucking hell Santiago, what’s- uuugghh, fuck, what’s gotten into you today?”

“Just trying to give my girl the best birthday ever!” He said, perhaps too enthusiastically. Only Ben get’s that fucking excited. Still you didn’t seem to find it odd because you were moaning his name as you came on his face, Santi lapping up every drop until he drew a second, smaller orgasm out of you. “Just lay here, princesa.” Still in a panic (and fucking hard, on top of it all) Santi went and drew you a bath. The perfect excuse to leave you alone with a towel, face mask, candle, and music going so you didn’t have to hear him hyperventilating.

How could he do this? How could he forget your birthday, his perfect fucking girlfriend who remembers every date from his birthday, to Frankie’s daughter Yasmine’s recitals to the anniversary of Tom’s death. And he couldn’t remember this? It’s a week on the dot before Will and Lana’s wedding, how could he forget! Between the wedding, the bachelor party, groomsmen duties and not to mention last month he signed Yaz up for a soccer camp which meant committing to picking her up from daycare for a few hours every day for the last week and of course he had to take her out for McDonalds after like the good uncle he was… you had just gotten lost in the flood.

This would not stand. He’d give you the best birthday he could pull together last minute or so help him god! He just needs a few reinforcements.

Benny’s Boys 😎

Pope: I fucked up.

Ironhead: You forgot her birthday, didn’t you.

🐟: How the fuck do you remember, Will

No Call Sign: Will drinks respect women juice for breakfast

Ironhead: It’s a week before my wedding. How did you forget?

Pope: I don’t know! But I need your help to fix this!

No Call Sign: Have you tried eating her out? That usually fixes things when May is mad

Ironhead: Jesus Christ Benjamin. Have some class.

Ironhead: Have you, though?

Pope: GUYS

Pope: Also, yes.

🐟: What do you need, Pope.

After a four way call on the balcony and planning that rivaled what it took to almost pull off Colombia (Why does Will have a white board and a corkboard with pictures of them all, you, Yazmine, Lana and red strig just ready to go?), a preliminary plan was made. Santi would start by taking you to brunch where Will would just have enough time to bring over a bouquet of flowers and put their names in for a table without being seen. Meanwhile, Frankie and Yaz were going to be working on a cake and Benny called up everyone you both knew (why does he have everyone’s numbers?). Lana was their man on the ground, updating the boards in an organized fashion she knew Will loved and keeping everyone on track. One task each would not be enough to get this done, they’d have to hussle the whole day to pull off what the 4 men had planned in an effort to make it seem like Santi scheduled this out ahead of time.

When Santi finished the calls and the grand plan was made, he walked back to the bedroom, just in time to see the bathroom door open. He quickly dove onto the bed, landing on top of the covers and he propped himself up on one elbow, acting relaxed.

"Enjoyed your bath, mi vida?"

You lifted an amused eyebrow, seeing that he bounced a little on the mattress and looked a bit out of breath, but you nodded.

"Yes, baby, it was perfect, thank you." - you blew him a kiss and walked to your closet to dress up.

He had a big house, much bigger and much nicer than your flat, but last night was spent at yours. When you two first dated, Santi set the rules by saying that he wants to keep things slow and casual (like with all of the women he had in the past, he loved fucking them, he respected them, but he wasn't the type to spend most of his free time with them).

You agreed, not wanting to complicate things. The sex was great and he was fun to hang out with, and because of that you didn't want to rush things in case you get bored with each other too soon.

This plan flew right out the window when both of you spent your nights in separate beds, thinking about the other, missing the other.

The next time you had sex, Santi pulled you closer when you wanted to get up, get dressed and leave, asking you to stay the night, kissing your neck. You melted in his arms and cuddled close to him, and after having the best sleep of your life next to each other, it was almost impossible for both of you to let go of the other from then on.

Santi was surprised you and him were still together. Not because you two together weren't perfect. He just… never met someone who made him feel this… happy. Now he felt even worse for forgetting your birthday.

He watched you dress up with a soft smile, loving the way your body looked. When you were done he got up too, lifted your face up with one of his fingers and kissed your lips sweetly.

"How about I'll take you to that restaurant you eye fuck everytime we pass it? For brunch?"

Your eyes widened. That restaurant was… expensive.

You opened your mouth to protest and Santi smiled wider, putting his forefinger against your lips.

"Not that you get any say in the matter, I'm gonna spoil my perfect little princess on her birthday and you can't do anything to stop me."

You mock pouted and bit his finger making him laugh, then you hugged his neck and kissed his lips.

"Okay, Mr. Kidnapper, I sure as hell don't wanna go to that restaurant I've been dying to try since I first saw it. And just for your information, I'm gonna be all grumpy and shit the whole time while we're there!" - you said as you turned to walk out the door and Santi's heart fluttered at seeing the excited bounce in your steps as he followed you.

You kissed his cheek when he opened the car door for you, making him grin widely; you were so sweet, so good to him. Just when you were driving near Santi’s house to get to the resteraunt, you spotted a car similar to Benny's as it turned in the street.

"Isn't that Be…?"

"So are you excited to try this restaurant?" - Santi asked all too eagerly.

"I think that was Be…"

"You must be so curious what I brought for you as a present, carino. I can't wait to give it to you."

You frowned a little then started talking about the reviews you read on the restaurant and started listing him the stuff you'd be happy to get as a present.

When you were looking out the window while you were rambling on and on, Santi quickly reached for his phone and started a voice recording. He sent it to William so he'll know what to buy.

As Santi took you into the restaurant, he got nervous since it was packed. How was he supposed to make it look like he had made a reservation? “Sit here, amor.” Santi directed you to an open chair and went to talk to a host. As he walked away, he heard you call his name, and when he turned around, he saw you in your pretty white dress making a heart with your hands. Santi made his best attempt at a heart back (it looked terrible.) and went on. You were so perfect, so pretty… how was he supposed to give you the day you deserved?

“Hi, uuhhhhhh call ahead for Santiago Garcia? Or maybe it’s under William-”

“Yes! Mr. Garcia! Your friend put your name in. Luckily we just had a bunch of tables get up, so as soon as they get bussed off, we’ll seat you. Maybe 10-15 minutes?”

Santi breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, that’s perfect.” He turned to go back to you when he realized a weak link in this plan. The hostess. This was not a military operation and he couldn’t ‘take care of it’ the way they used to… lucky for the hostess. “Hey uh… can you maybe not mention my friend to my girlfriend? Or that this was a call ahead instead of a reservation?”

She smiled knowingly. “Of course, Mr. Garcia.”

When he got back to you, he told you the wait time. “Sorry baby, they said they had some tables stay longer than expected.”

“Oh that’s okay!” You assured. You used to work in a restaurant and know how it goes. When the hostess came to seat you, she made sure to tell Santi his “reservation” was ready.

Brunch was… expensive. But it didn’t matter, you were worth it, and you smiled so brightly at every bite and every sip, he wanted to take you here more just to see you so happy. Just when he thought Will couldn’t swing the flowers, the hostess brought up a bouquet and Santi watched in delight as you beam at him.

Next on the agenda was a picnic. Driving home, Santi prayed for the first time in half a decade that the Millers had gotten their next part done. Ben came over to start decorating and prepping the picnic basket. Will had to bring the physical basket and blanket… and glasses that aren't plastic.

“BEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNN”

“Relax!” The younger man shouted back as Santi entered the apartment. “We’re way ahead of schedule” Ben had stopped at the store to get a cheese and meat platter and was adding the finishing touches. Will had already left for his next part; buying a gift in which Santi would venmo the cost back. He didn’t care how much, just make it good.

“Tio!!!” A little brunette ran up and hugged her uncle, covered in flour.

“Mija, what are you doing here?” He asked as he greeted his goddaughter.

Frankie round the corner from the kitchen. “Yasmine, you just got him dirty!” He scolded. Santi assured him it was fine and wiped off the flour, and Frankie explained. “We figured we’d make the cake here instead of risking transportation.”

With hugs and thank you’s all around, Santi grabbed the finished basket and dashed out the door.

When he got back in the car, you looked at him curiously. “Is that Frankie’s car down the street?”

Santi gives a noncommittal answer and mutters something about Frankie having ladies in every zip code, then drives away, quickly changing the subject to the new Barbie movie you wanted to see so badly as he took you out to the park for a picnic.

Santi found a nice spot under a tree where the shadow was big enough to cover the big blanket from the heat of the sun. He made you sit down and you watched with a smile as he pulled everything out of the box. While he did that, you decided to pull off your sandals and removed Santi's shoes and socks too, making the man chuckle.

He opened the bottle of wine while you picked some cheese on your plate and you beamed up at him.

"Today is going great Santi. Thank you for this."

Santi smiled back at you and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

"You deserve the best, baby."

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Still… No one put this much effort into making me feel special, like… ever."

Santi's smile faltered a little and you thought it was because of sympathy. But he felt shame envelope him. He shouldn't have forgotten your birthday. If he would've remembered he would've made you take a week off from work and would have taken you to somewhere nice. To Spain maybe, or Guatemala or Italy, maybe Greece. To somewhere beautiful where you always wanted to go. To make you feel like the most special girl in the world. Because you were the most special! At least for him. What would you think of him if you knew his friends were helping him, because he forgot your birthday? Did he really deserve you?

You pulled him out of his thoughts when you leaned your head on his shoulder as you were watching the lake where ducks and swans were swimming peacefully.

"You always make me feel special though. Everyday. Sometimes I feel like I don't thank you enough." - you said quietly.

Santi looked down and kissed your head several times, until you chuckled.

"Don't be silly, baby. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. There are times when I just look at you and wonder how you ended up being in my life."

You grinned.

"It was one of Benny's parties where you were drunk as hell, grabbed his guitar and started to serenade me, singing about how I am the most beautiful woman you've ever seen."

Santi started to laugh.

"Well, you are!"

"I just finished throwing up, and was trying to wipe my makeup off with little success."

"Still. I was watching you since you entered the house and was drinking cause I was trying to get enough courage to go over to you."

"This is such bullshit!" - you said, looking at him.

"Que?!"

"Benny told me you are the biggest womanizer he ever met, why did you need courage?"

"Because…" - he started as he booped your nose with his fingertip gently as he leaned closer. - "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I didn't want to fuck it up." - he said and kissed your lips softly.

You snorted and kissed him back.

"So your grand plan was to get shitfaced and serenade me with silly lyrics you made up on the spot."

"Well, I didn't mean to drink that much, but Will just told us he got engaged and we had to celebrate." - he kissed your cheek again, then your neck. - "Besides… it worked." - he grinned.

"It did." - you laughed and kissed him again.

Benny’s Boys 😎

🐟: Booked you a couples massage. Consider it your birthday gift. And christmas. Y Dia De San Jose.

Pope: I cannot say thank you enough, you guys

No Call Sign: Once would be great.

Pope: Hey! I said thank you!

Ironhead: Quit texting your boyfriend and woo your girlfriend. If you want her to be your wife you can’t let her think you’re going to ditch her for some blonde bimbo

No Call Sign: Wait. Am I the blonde bimbo?

🐟: Hey! He’s my blonde bimbo

No Call Sign: Thanks baby 😘

This was proceeded by Ben and Frankie ‘homie flirting’ as Ben called it, before Will reminded them Benny has a girlfriend and Frankie still needed to text Santi the details of the massage.

He took his time with you at the picnic, plopping little bits of meat and cheese and berries in your mouth, continuing to woo you with everything he had. He would make you feel like the most special girl on the planet if it was the last thing he did.

“You’re the most perfect boyfriend in the world“ You praised as you laid on this lap as he sat back against the tree. Santi dangled grapes over your mouth, feeding them to you as he fanned you (Will had a fan in his picnic kit? No wonder that man got engaged so damn fast).

“Hopefully I’ll be the most perfect husband not long from now.”

The way you beamed up at him, eyes sparkling, made every worry he had disappear. “You mean that, Santi?” With bated breath, you await his answer. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been serious… but the line between meeting at Will and Lana’s engagement party where Benny brought you along to, where you had both said to stay ‘casual’ to where you were now, with you as Santi’s official plus one to Will’s wedding, spending nearly every night together… you hadn’t really talked about the future. You knew he was serious. He wouldn’t lead you along like this if he just wanted to casually date, and Benny would kick his ass if he thought Santi was being a dick to you (and threatened to do as much when you first told him about his two best friends dating), but you hadn’t really talked about it.

“I mean it, carino.” Assuringly, Santi caressed your cheek. “I know we’ve been moving a little slow, and I appreciate you meeting me at my pace. I know maybe it seems like I’m just messing around-”

“It doesn’t.”

“-but I promise you, I am very serious. And I’d like to take the next step.” He goes in for a kiss, pecking your lips and tasting the fruit on them.

“And what’s the next step, baby?”

“You’ll see when we get back to the apartment.” He did have one gift ready, something he had planned for weeks ahead of time to give today. It wasn’t that he forgot your birthday completely… he knew what day it was, he knew it was coming… it just got lost in the chaos. So yeah, he needed his 3 best friends, one’s fiance and his goddaughter to assist him. “But up next, a couples massage.”

Santiago did not mean to moan. He really didn’t. But between the stress of the wedding and this whole day, he was tense, and the massage therapist was good. Lucky for him, both his and your massage therapist were cool about it, and you burst into giggles, proceeding to tell his masseuse “I never get him to moan like that.”

He’d be humiliated if it was anyone else but you. You made everything so easy. You also mimicked his moan the whole car ride to his apartment as Santi prayed to god Benny had decorated and gathered enough people together to constitute a surprise party. It was definitely a perk that your friend was good friends with your girlfriend; they knew a lot of the same people. Okay, so maybe Santi thought Ben was competition at first! So maybe Santi kinda wanted to steal you from Ben! So maybe the reason Santi brought out the guitar is because Benny had previously played it and was singing ‘baby lock them doors and turn the light down loooowwww’ and Santi wouldn’t be upstaged! So sue him!

As he unlocked the door, he spoke REALLY LOUDLY in hopes they’d here and get into place. It worked. It definitely worked. Until Yaz shouted “DON’T SHUSH ME DADDY” and it was all over.

You looked at Santi suspiciously.

"You are either hiding your side-chick or… IT'S MY FAVOURITE LITTLE GIRL IN THE WORLD!"

In three seconds you two spotted Yazmine sprinting down the stairs and into your arms, giggling.

"No, Yaz, abort mission, I repeat ABORT MISSION!" - you heard Frankie yell after her, still in his hiding spot while Santi facepalmed himself.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" - she shouted excited as you picked her up and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, honey! So tell me…"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" - suddenly dozens of people jumped out from behind different furnitures and you jumped back scared, but then laughed when you recognized the faces.

"Oh my god, guys, thank you!" - you laughed as you put Yasmine down and hugged everyone who came up to you.

Santi quickly searched for his friends to thank them all the effort they put into to make this day special for you. The decoration was done and it seemed like you loved it, if the way your eyes sparkled when you spotted another balloon or a birthday poster was any indication.

You loved the restaurant, the picnic basket Will and Benny put together was fucking delicious, the massage was heavenly and now all of your friends were here to celebrate you.

"Guys, seriously, thank you." - Santi said as he hugged them.

"You better marry this woman one day, since we did all this for you two." - Will winked.

Santi looked over at you with a soft smile on his face.

"Maybe I will."

Frankie, Will and Benny's eyes widened and they grinned, pulling Santi into another group hug. They've never seen their friend this happy and it was easy to tell that it was because of you.

You had a suspicion that it wasn't all Santi. You're not saying he wasn't capable to pull all of this off, but he looked a bit on edge the whole day and he was on the phone a lot more than he used to.

When Santi appeared in front of you with a big gift box, you grinned widely, taking it from him.

“Baby it’s huge!!!” You squeal as you both sit down to tear it open; right away you knew he had sent Will to get it. When you had listed off things you guessed he might have gotten you in the car this morning, you had named several items. A pandora’s charm bracelet, the giant blanket off redbubble with Nicolas Cage’s face all over it, that rose shaped sex toy you were curious about, a new hair dryer since yours had broken, and it was, in fact, the last one. This had Will written all over it. It wasn’t that Will couldn't be romantic; he was, from what Lana had told you and what you had seen, very romantic. However, out of the four, Will was more practical, and absolutely went for the hair dryer. Santi was more fancy jewelry, Frankie would go for the sex toy, and Benny…

The hair dryer was nice, though, very, very nice. It came with several attachments, and Will even managed to put in different hair masks and deep conditioners in there. It was perfect, and you would absolutely be using it on you and May to get ready for Will and Lana’s wedding.

“THANK YOU BABY THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!” Jumping up, you tackle him onto the carpet and pepper his scruffy face with kisses as you both giggled.

The night went swimmingly, a fun weekend but nothing crazy since most had work the next day and the real party would be next weekend, but you had such a great time, Santi serenading you with a cover of You and Me by Lifehouse. Benny somehow read your mind and got you that god awful Nicolas Cage blanket you wanted, and Santi he was never staying the night again.

When the crowd cleared out, leaving you and Santi alone, you took both of his hands in yours. “Thank you for today, Santiago. I had an amazing time”

Santi smiled at you, adoration and love spreading across his face. “I’m so glad, mi vida. It took a lot of effort” Now he could honestly say that wasn’t a lie.

Looking around, you compliment his work. “The decorations look great” You nod to the streamers that were so high up. “You use a step stool?”

Fake glaring, Santi furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh you’re gonna be a brat now, are you?”

Pulling your boyfriend closer, you look his dead in the eye but keep a light smile to make sure he knows you aren’t upset. “You forgot my birthday, didn’t you?”

His eyes go wide, and immediately he starts stammering. “No! No- why would you- baby I would never- your birthday of all days!”

You cock and eyebrow at him. “Santiago Garcia.”

He sighs. “Fine! So I forgot it was today, but I knew it was coming! I just got so… I don’t have an excuse, baby, I’m sorry.” He genuinely looked so sad, so disappointed in himself.

“Oh Santi.” You lean in to kiss him, caressing his face tenderly. “It’s okay, you made me feel so, so special, so loved, not just by you but by your family, and that means a lot to me. Knowing that they care about me too. So thank you today was perfect.”

His face softens, smiling lightly. “Okay, so I had a lot of help. But!” He departs from you, walking into his bedroom and coming out with a small box. “This is something I made up weeks ago. I didn’t completely forget about your birthday.” He hands it to you.

“Santi, you shouldn’t have! You’ve already gotten me so much!”

“Well, this one cost me like. Three dollars.”

When you open it, you see a small key from those kiosks at walmart that even had a Star Wars design on it. “Santi” You gasp. “Is this-”

“A key to my house, yeah.” Santi stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark pants, shuffling nervously. “Well, we’ve been dating for a while, and you practically live here anyway” He teases. “I want you to just… make yourself at home. And when your lease is up… and if you feel ready… I was thinking…” The hopeful look on his high-strung face after everything he did to put today together at the last minute… you fell more in love with him every day.

“SANTIAREYOUASKINGMETOMOVEIN?!” You blurt out, practically jumping.

“If you want-”

Kisses. Nothing but kisses and I love you’s and you jumped and squealed in excitement.

When you had settled and confirmed yes, you’d move in when your lease was up in a few short months, Santi took your mouth in his for a more passionate kiss, and a handful of ass in his hand for a squeeze. Sloppily, you two made out on your slow trek back to what would soon be your bedroom (Where the Nicolas Cage blanket was awaiting him, little did he know) he asked you.

“How did you know I forgot?”

“Weeeelllllll” you draw it out as you go for his neck. “There were a few signs.”

He mumbles a few swears. “Was it Benny and Frankie’s car’s?”

“Well, yeah. But there was the fact, and baby I love you very much, but that level of decoration requires Benny’s enthusiasm.”

“Okay, yeah, well-”

“The gift screamed Will, and the massage had to be one of their ideas at the very least because you would never willingly strip for a woman you weren’t sleeping with.”

“Hey-”

“The cake had a chunk of missing frosting that was suspiciously Yasmine sized”

“She takes after her uncle Ben-”

“There was a fan in the picnic basket”

“Okay so?”

“And baby…” You stop right outside the bedroom door, both of you panting and eager for each other. “You never eat me out like that unless you are trying to make up for something.”

His stupidly sharp jaw drops. “Are you saying I’m not a pussy eating champion?”

“Hey!” You raise your arms in defense. “All I’m saying is if Lana and May are correct, you could take some tips from the Miller- AH!” Santi scooped you up, slinging you over his shoulder.

Despite his words, he was clearly smiling, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I don’t need jack shit from the Millers!”

“Except this party”

“Except this party! Now, let me show you a little hint of what my wifey will get.” With that, he carried you into the bedroom, promptly greeted by a giant blanket collage of Nicolas Cage.

“Babe. What the FUCK!”

***********

Hope y'all liked!!!!

Dolli I hope you had a great birthday!

Tomorrow I'm decorating my classroom with baby yoda decorations, giving my day care class party favors, and bringing them cookies.

then this weekend thank GOD i have friday off and im going camping

@eyelessfaces @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @whatthefishh @miraclesabound @littlenosoul @fandxmslxt69 @campingwiththecharmings @melodygatesauthor @moonknightly @ahookedheroespureheart @jake-g-lockley @kittyofalltrades @milkymoon2483

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia/reader #fluff #santiago garcia fluff #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #santiago garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #best friend benny miller #will miller #benny miller #frankie morales

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dr3mvaalmar · 7 months

Text

Bound by Fate | Kinktober Day 7

Pairing: Solomon x F! Reader

Prompt: Stuck in Wall (nsfw, mdni)

Summary: The reader goes to Diavolo's garden and finds a stone fence. Unaware of the warnings, she becomes stuck under its curse. Solomon, the kind sorcerer he is, lends a helping hand in more ways than one.

Warnings/Tags: power dynamic, slight noncon, unprotected sex, standing doggy style, public (caught)

Credit: @cafekitsune (divider)

“Finally,” I sighed, opening a gap through the large double-wide doors. The cacophony of the party inside bellowed into the silent night, echoing along the wind. The noise was becoming unbearable, so I decided to take refuge outside. Hopefully, no one would notice my absence. I didn’t want anyone to follow me as I relieved the tension in my head.

Diavolo's mansion loomed over me as I walked into the gardens. The trail spiraled across the large expanse of land, a maize for those unaccustomed. I certainly was unfamiliar with the layout. Every step I took made me question my decision to leave the safe haven of the indoors. Maybe I should’ve asked Diavolo if I could rest in a spare room. However, he was quite preoccupied, from what I could tell.

I sighed, observing my surroundings. Neatly trimmed bushes led the trail to a fixed location. Maybe I’ll walk for a bit and return when I feel better. I let the various landmarks guide me. Moss lined the stone walkway, cushioning my feet with every step. Various plants were neatly tucked along the fences and monuments. I wondered how they stayed so healthy with so little sunlight. Before long, the path stretched as I lost myself in the night. I didn’t know how long I’d been walking or where.

“What’s that?” I mumbled to myself, finding a large stone wall before me. Its length traveled beyond what the eye could see. Was it a fence? It looked like some kind of mural with intricate etchings across it. An unfamiliar language was transcribed about should-height, along with strange images. It was an amalgamation of lines and shapes. Curiously, I stepped closer. I recognized some of the text. It was carved deeply into the stone and was worn with time.

I followed the writings, trying to decipher what the words meant. The wall seemed to surround the entire premises, so I wasn’t sure how far I would go. However, not long after my journey, the text abruptly ended. Next to it was a…

“A handprint?” I asked myself, lifting my hand to compare. It seemed almost too perfect for the contours of my fingers. Growing ever more curious, I pressed my fingers against the stone. It was smooth and cold, yet there was a subtle warmth. As the warmth increased, I retracted my arm. However, to my horror, I realized my hand was stuck in place. In an instant, I realized the writing was a warning, not ancient text. Spontaneous panic spread through my mind as I tried to tug and tear my body away from the wall. Without thinking, I brought my nondominant hand to push me back. Regretfully, that hand sunk into the depths of the wall along with the other. Now, I had no leverage but my legs to free me from this predicament.

“Come on! Ugh,” I exclaimed, my breathing becoming ragged from the exhaustion. I had no idea how long I struggled. However, I could hear the music in the distance, dying to a low thrum. Pitifully, I wondered if anyone noticed my leaving. They probably were having too much fun. I jerked back my shoulder in one final hurrah, but the reality dawned on me. I was stuck. I didn’t know how far away I was, but the mansion seemed much smaller than before.

I shouted every name I could think of from the top of my head. My voice was growing hoarse with every plea for help. Yet, as time elapsed, I realized I had no savior. It was just me in the depths of the dark. I stopped, a veil of exhaustion washing over me. What would I even say if someone were to find me?

Resting my knees on the ground, my hands stretched high above me. I laid my forehead on the wall. Shocked, I realized my error but felt relief when the stone left my skin. Why were only my hands affected? I let the tension go, letting my body collapse. My arm was becoming numb the longer it stayed above my head.

“Oh? What do we have here?” a voice bellowed towards me, the slow movement of footsteps in the distance. “You’ve got yourself in quite the predicament, (Y/n).”

I looked up, my eyes cloudy and narrowed. It was Solomon. Of all people, it would have to be Solomon. I wanted nothing more than to flee.

“Go away,” I said, turned away. “I don’t need your help.”

“Are you sure?” Solomon asked, a few feet away from me by now. He crossed his arms, a cocky smile plastered on his lips. “If you don’t need the help, maybe I won’t tell the others. You’ll spend the night out here alone. We don’t want that, now, do we?”

I sighed, bobbing my arm up to get circulation through my arm. As much as I didn’t trust him, he was reliable when I needed him the most. I’d be so sore if I spent the night out here.

“Fine,” I said, relenting. Solomon’s eyebrow quirked up.

“What was that?” he teased. “I’m not sure what you’re wanting, dear.”

“Solomon, set me free or so help me God,” I said, a biting acidity to my words. I already spent so long out here. My legs and back were stiff. I needed to stretch. The wall encasing my fingers felt so oppressive.

I looked expectantly at the sorcerer, but he only stood there and smiled. Solomon showed no signs of budging as he watched me struggle under his gaze. Did he… enjoy this?

“Solomon! Please, just get me out of here already,” I cried, getting up from my knees. I tried tugging on my arms again, using the strength of my legs. Solomon seemed entertained with every passing second.

“Ah, what a sight. Never could I imagine the brave (Y/n) succumbing to the mysteries of the Devildom. Literally,” Solomon said, a finger perched below his lip. I scoffed.

“Haha. Very funny. Get me out. Now.”

“Everything has a price in exchange for a service. What will you offer for my assistance?” Solomon asked, stepping towards me. I couldn’t stand up to my full height as he taunted me with half-lidded eyes. I knew he held me in the palm of his hand.

“What do you want? I don’t have anything,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “I left all my stuff back at the castle. It’s nothing good anyways.”

“Quite the contrary, I have everything I want in front of me,” Solomon affirmed, his pupils scanning me from my head and descending shamelessly. I felt my face burn under the implication.

“You want… me?”

Solomon nodded, enjoying my revelation, “I knew you’d understand.”

I contemplated his offer for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. I can’t believe it’s something I would even consider, but it’s not like I had much of a choice. Solomon was patient as I caved in.

“Don’t worry, it won’t feel like very long at all,” Solomon said in an attempt to comfort me. “I’ll make you forget everything.”

“Just do whatever you want. I don’t care,” I grumbled, averting my eyes. However, I did, in fact, care. Frustration was eating at every fiber of my being.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Solomon chuckled. “Once I’ve had my fill, I promise to set you free.”

I turned my head away, the guilt of my decision heavy on my mind. However, that soon disappeared as I felt cold fingers snake underneath my shirt. My breathing hitched as the digits contrasted with the warmth of my skin. The gliding of his touch brought goosebumps along my skin. His hands felt my stomach, moving up towards my ribs. I squeaked.

“Ticklish, aren’t we?” Solomon said, a laugh resonating from his throat. He never paused for a moment. His onslaught of calculated movements sent shivers across my body. Solomon hitched the fabric of my blouse up, allowing him to move more freely. The more I squirmed and struggled, the more access it granted to his wandering touch. He would hold my body firm under his large hands if I felt especially resistant. Eventually, his fingers lingered just below my bust, tracing the fabric confining them. I could feel Solomon’s body, his crotch grinding into my backside. The lining of his cock was no secret, even if I couldn’t see it. Our surroundings seemed to fade away with every movement until it was just the two of us.

“No need for this pesky thing,” Solomon mumbled, voice husky, as he flipped the fabric above my chest. My breasts, freed from their entrapment, were immediately seized in Solomon’s greedy hands. He stifled a groan as he massaged each one vigorously. His chest fit into the curvature of my back, hips moving in tandem with his groping hands. Solomon's mouth wavered over my neck before latching on. His pitiful gasps with each wave of pleasure made my mouth open wide. By now, I didn’t even notice what lewd sounds spewed from within me.

“Mmn you need me, right? You don’t mind if I put my thick cock inside you? Hm?” Solomon moaned, his voice a raspy mess. His lips trailed my earlobe, nipping playfully. I could smell his cologne seeping from his clothes from here. It was intoxicating. “Don’t answer. I already know exactly what you need.”

One of his hands left my breast, and I could feel his vice grip against my ass as he pressed into me. I could feel everything. Every curve. Every inch of his throbbing cock. His clothes did little to conceal his aching member. He seemed drunk with pleasure, rubbing against my skirt without a single ounce of shame. Before I knew it, I felt the soft skin of his dick settling on my back. I gasped.

“So responsive. I wonder…” Solomon chuckled, both of his hands now gripping my hips as his dick thrust up and down. His fingers descended underneath the hem of my skirt, prying my panties away from my smoldering skin. He didn’t hesitate to rub the growing wetness of my cunt. “Is this all for me? How enticing.”

Solomon laughed airily as he ripped my skirt from my body. It fell to the ground pitifully. I felt so exposed under his intensity.

“Solomon,” I cried, finally finding my words under a whirlwind of sensations. “Please.” “Do you want me to stop?” Solomon asked, and I could practically see his smirk through every word he uttered. I shook my head. “Use your words, or I’ll have to force them out of you.”

“Please, just fuck me, Sol,” I exclaimed, rubbing my ass rhythmically against Solomon’s engorged dick. I could feel his body shake.

“Good girl,” Solomon said, aligning his dick against my wet entrance. I had no time to prepare before he pushed inside of me. My body resisted, but Solomon was determined. He explored every inch until he hit a dead end. I could feel the warmth all throughout me. Even a twitch was enough to send spikes of pleasure up my spine. “So inviting. I didn’t know you wanted me so deeply. Don't worry.”

Solomon’s pulled back before slamming inside of me. I could feel the tip edging into my cervix.

“I’ll give you…”

He thrust again, slapping skin against skin.

“Everything…”

Again.

“I’ve got!” Solomon shouted, digging deep inside of me. His movements wouldn’t slow as he fucked me raw. His dick slid easily in the essence of my arousal. The wet sound struck against the walls, returning to me in full force. The lewd noise of our sex was too much to bear.

Solomon gripped my throat as he fucked me senseless. I could only give in as he reared my head back, fingers clasped on my jugular. Solomon pecked my lips, straining the muscles as I twisted around. All the while, each thrust brought me painfully flat against the wall. I could feel every gasp for breath as he hovered over the nap of my neck. His nose nuzzled into the crook before biting down, saliva trailing from his mouth. My eyes furrowed as I shrieked with euphoria.

“Oh fuck yes, you fill me up so good, Sol,” I commended. I so desperately wanted to run my hands into his shirt, to feel up every inch of his body. I wanted his dick between my lips, fucking my wet holes like the toy I am. Every word I spoke seemed to make Solomon quicken his pace. His hands would grab every inch of skin he could fit in his palm. His entire body was against me now. I felt almost claustrophobic against the wall, but the pleasure dulled every sense of danger.

As the knot inside me started to reach its peak, my walls tightened around him. He let out a guttural moan, letting every ounce of energy into his last remaining thrusts. Whenever he delved deeper, my vision blurred, and stars crossed my eyes. He was getting close. Too close.

“I’m going to come,” Solomon gasped, not faltering for a moment. “Take it all. Every last ounce.”

I moaned out his name as he pumped his seed, delving deeper until I couldn’t hold it all. I could feel it spurt, warmth seeping into my core. Solomon grinded into me until he was sure I was thoroughly saturated with his cum. His voice grunted as he hit his high of the orgasm.

We hesitated to pull away from each other, his warmth a cocoon over my naked body. Yet, things must end inevitably. Solomon pulled out, my hole oozing with his very DNA. I felt a sense of pride well up in me, despite being taken advantage of by a horny sorcerer.

“Now, for my end of the bargain,” Solomon said, slowly readjusting his clothes. With a snap of his finger, I could feel the stone slowly glide off my skin, almost like goo. I flexed my fingers momentarily, perplexed to see my hands finally set free. I could already feel a dull ache, not only in my hands but in the areas Solomon ravaged. “I hope our intimate moment helped you realize how much you mean to me.”

It was hard to accept the heartfelt moment when a mixture of our fluids was running down my leg. Yet, I still felt his words tug at my heart, remembering each fleeting glance and teasing remark he showed me before. I wouldn’t mind round two.

“I had fun,” I giggled, picking up my skirt and pulling down my bra.

“Well, if you need a little company, you know where to find me,” Solomon said with a wink. The corners of my lips curled up further.

“Let’s go join the others,” Solomon said, holding a hand toward me. I accepted it without hesitation.

“But what about the mess?” I asked, referring to my ruffled clothes and wet skirt.

“What mess?” Solomon teased, pulling me along. We didn’t make it a few steps before we noticed a crowd in the distance. It was the others… I sincerely hope they didn’t hear me as I cried to the heavens.

“Ah, there you two are!” Diavolo exclaimed arms spread out before him. He seemed eager to see us as the demon brothers and Barbatos trailed behind. They all looked aghast, and I noticed Asmodeus snickering something amongst them. “We heard a commotion. I assume everything is all right now?”

“A minor disturbance, Lord Diavolo. Rest assured, all has been resolved,” Solomon said, a sly smile adorning his lips. I noticed a devilish glint in his eyes, which made heat rise to my cheeks.

The sea of faces was perplexing and entertaining. Barbatos was as professional as ever. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his face indifferent. Mammon looked like he was constipated. Beel seemed none the wiser. Satan had a knowing smirk, suppressing a chuckle. Levi seemed awkward and averted his gaze. Belphie seemed dazed. Lastly, Asmodeus was trying to resist a squeal of delight. This was not how I wanted to make a lasting impression on the brothers.

Now free to move on my own accord, I shifted my clothes, not daring to let out a single noise. If I spoke, I might break under the pressure. Solomon side-eyed me, a teasing but reassuring gesture.

Asmodeus was the first to crack. Every movement—from the tilt of his head to the flutter of his eyelashes—felt like a pang of embarrassment straight to my heart. He seemed to enjoy my reaction more than Solomon ever would.

“Oh, Solomon,” Asmodeus said. “Always one for… hands-on solutions, aren’t you? How resourceful of you both~”

Solomon’s arm snaked under me, looping around my waist protectively. Slowly, he guided me away from them as I turned my head towards the group in disbelief.

“I believe we’ve taken enough of everyone’s time. Good day,” Solomon said, not paying another thought to the tragedy of what just occurred. I had a feeling that gossip would spread like wildfire. I hung my head in shame as Solomon reveled in my misery.

#solomon x reader #obey me #kinktober 2023 #obey me smut #fanfiction #day 7 #obey me solomon #/reader

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 1 year

Text

Civilian Asset 3.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Things go from bad to worse.

Master List / Prev chapter

Warnings: 18+, Mild/brief self harm (over-washing), language, peril, first aid/wound care, discussion of terrorism, emotional break downs

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Thank you for your continued support! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Barely edited, but made with love. Keeping chapters short for quicker updates, so that Soap teaser I dropped will actually be in 4. My bad.

You can’t think beyond my face hurts and I thought I died.

The men to either side have you packed in tight, shoulders pressing against yours, knees bumping with every sway and turn. All four of the soldiers keep their eyes on the passing landscape and the road leading through it. The men only speak to make note of potential tails, to confirm or deny the presence of new threats.

You left London a while back, and you’re in the patchwork of expanding towns spilling out beyond the green belt by the time you regain enough sense to notice.

You see very little. Fewer houses. More fields.

None of it really sinks in. The inside of the car smells like gun oil, sweat, and a coppery stink you know rises from your own clothes. Your own skin and hair and empty nail beds.

You let yourself disappear for a while. For maybe an hour, you let the static blanket your mind like snow. It’s like floating on the top of the lake, and if you break that surface tension, you’ll drown, so you let it blind your senses instead. So long as no one notices you, you don’t have to exist. You tell yourself it’s just for a minute, just for a bit, just until something else goes wrong and you have to remember pain, and fear, and whatever else makes up your life in the moment. The protective blur stretches on forever, and you lose track of time.

An itch pulls you back into your body. Eyes on you. Someone watching.

You glance up, and you meet death’s gaze in the rearview. There are eyes, but no face. Only a skull. For a brief instant you think of trying to jerk awake, like you would in a falling dream, because maybe the reaper isn’t real, unlike every other horror of the day. But then you notice the cloth beneath the bone and the military headgear.

It’s just a man in a mask, the one in the front passenger seat with the rifle you noticed as you piled in behind the Scotsman.

Skull-face blinks slowly, twice, confident you won’t look away while his eyes are closed, patiently enigmatic as a cat.

The SUV turns sharply onto a gravel track, and Skull-face turns back to the window, like he didn’t just stare you down through the mirror.

The uneven jolts as the tires dip into grooves and potholes drives away the last of the static. And you blink, eyes still on the mirror, trying to come to grips with reality.

What the actual fuck?

Around the bend, a farmhouse creeps into view. It sits low over the green turf, unassuming apart from old leaded windows that make it look too much like something out of a cottage core mood board for the situation. This isn’t a space for men with guns and tac vests.

But the man in the bucket hat taps on the brakes, nods, and says, “Ghost, Gaz: clear the house.” He doesn’t change gear. Doesn’t park. Even now, he’s ready for an ambush.

You don’t think the men who grabbed you were capable of thinking that far ahead. They did find the original safehouse, though, so maybe you should be a good civilian and keep those thoughts to yourself.

The Brit who clipped the zip ties off your wrists and helped you out of the warehouse pops out with a “Yes, sir.” So does the grim reaper up front. The doors slam shut again, and the two move in concert, guns raised, sights fixed on the windows and door as they approach. The man in the mask takes point, rushing through the door the instant his colleague turns the knob, and they disappear inside.

You’re uncomfortably aware of… everything. Your breath. The ants roving under your skin. The two men still in the car with you. It’s impossible to sit still, and you peer around your enclosure like a gerbil in a hamster ball – technically safe but in no control. The wind stirs the bushes at the edge of the driveway, and you imagine people behind them who move like your escorts. Cold. Efficient. And they’re already too close.

Your neck strains as you try to see through all the windows at once, struggling to catch a glimpse of doom before it drags you under.

“You broken?”

The leader, the man behind the wheel, must be addressing the Scot. It only registers he’s talking to you when you find said Scot watching you, too. There’s more room in the back now, but you still feel crowded and exposed in a horrible, nonsensical mess.

And – oh, right, the man is talking to you.

“Hey.” He doesn’t look through the mirror. He physically turns, arm over the back of the seat, so he can look you in the eye as he asks again, and his words come slow to your adrenaline-scoured brain. “Are you broken?”

You flounder. Puzzled. That… means what? You’re missing context. Is what broken? No bones. They didn’t – technically – hurt you that badly. Everything will fix itself in time. It could’ve been worse. You know that, even if in the moment all you want to do is sprint to the ends of the earth, find a blanket, and curl up in the darkest corner at the edge of the map.

Is he asking if you’re functional? If you can make it through debriefing?

That must be it.

And, fuck, you’d physically fight all four of them at this point if they tried to stop you from passing on the intelligence you’ve literally bled for.

“No.” You’re surprised by your own conviction (and how little your voice shakes). “Not broken.”

There’s an actual twinkle in his eye – and really, how dare he? – but his approval and the uptick of those bushy, bearded cheeks is the right kind of ridiculous in the moment. The Scot huffs beside you, but you don’t have the bandwidth for any more smirks, twinkles, or other bullshittery, so you keep your eyes forward and hope to fuck someone will tell you what to do. You can only hop between so many distractions before you miss a step and fall into a heaving mess on the floor.

“Good,” says Captain Fishing Hat. He turns back to the wheel just as Skull Face comes back.

The burly man signals, and as the boss finally turns off the engine, he opens the door and reports, “House is clear. Gaz is setting up for debrief.”

Gaz, then, must be the youngest Englishman. The Scot shifts, subtly ushering you out, and you scoot along as instructed, letting the men more or less herd you across the yard, through the door, into the kitchen. They keep their heads on a swivel, and that doesn’t help your nerves. Not at all. But they don’t give you time to stop and angst over it, either.

You find yourself in the kitchen, guided to one of four wooden chairs around a square table. It’s covered in tech. A black case sits open on one of the other seats, and the empty foam imprints inside match the boxes, cables, and laptop before you.

“Ready, Kyle?” Fishing Hat asks.

“Nearly, Captain,” Gaz replies. “Working on the connection now.”

So, Captain Fishing Hat is an actual captain. You aren’t shocked. Maybe in shock, but not surprised.

But as you sit where you’re told and watch the screen illuminate, a realization dawns on you. You won’t be debriefing to these men. Someone else at the other end of this connection is waiting for the whole story, and fear flutters to life in your gut like a startled pigeon. Loud, awkward, probably diseased.

What if you’ve misjudged all this? What if it’s a ploy? The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend, and the proper authorities aren’t the only ones hungry for the information you carry. Stiffening in your seat, you prepare for another fight, lifting the prickly guard you let drop as you knelt in the back of the SUV, clinging to the Scotsman’s tac vest.

Just as you’re glancing at the window over the kitchen sink and wondering if you jump high enough to break through the glass before any of the men grab you, a face appears on the screen, and the woman says your name.

You recognize her. Or at least her voice.

It’s the woman from the phone.

You physically droop against the back of the chair, gasping in relief.

Fuck. Fuck.

You’re going to be okay.

“Glad to see you in one piece,” she says.

“Me, too.” A rasp taints your voice, and you feel the phantom pressure of an arm crushing your trachea.

“Kate Laswell,” she introduces herself. “This is a secure line. Go ahead and tell me what you know.”

It’s easier than you expect. You’ve been thinking so much about everything you need to say, turning over pieces in your head, putting it into clearer words, ordering it by importance, that now it just flows. You lean forward, desperately ready to spill. But just because you’ve gathered everything into a coherent thread doesn’t make it any less painful to acknowledge. It’s like tugging up a string of barbed wire from your gut, pulling it out of your mouth inch by inch. You worry if you have to stop, the blades will lodge in your throat.

The woman is clearly a pro, though, and she saves her questions.

You list names first: people in American alphabet agencies with ties to a particularly violent white supremacist group. If there’s any chance they could be listening, she could end the call and try again in a secure location. But she must’ve guessed something was off when the official safehouse she sent you to was compromised. This time she’s prepared, and she lets you continue.

There’s a bomb, a new alliance with ultranationalists, someone named Makarov. It’s a test. To see if the American terrorists are as good as they say, if they’re worth Makarov’s investment. There’s a promise of more if they get the body count Makarov’s set (thousands).

The man whose blood you’ll always feel, slick between your fingers as you confused the thump of the nightclub’s base with your own pulse, kept his cover long enough to get the details of the attack. Date, location, time, target. He didn’t live long enough to give you more. He gave you what he thought was most important. You hope it’s enough. You hope it’s worth it.

Laswell thinks for a minute, then asks, “Did the men who kidnapped you indicate they knew how much of this information you possessed?”

“No. They, uh – that was the whole point, I think.” You lift you hand, so she can see the missing nails. “They wanted to know how compromised they were before they shot me.”

You say it so quickly it only clicks after it leaves your mouth. They were going to shoot you. You knew that, but away from the rough hands and zip ties it feels surreal. People like you don’t get shot. People like you have car accidents and a few too many fast food dinners for your general wellbeing. But the gun against your head was real. It’s a true thing that just happened, and that means people like you do get shot. Every safe, calm moment in your life looks like a lie, a skewed carnival mirror in retrospect.

People like you get shot.

People want to kill you.

You may still get shot. That’s why you’re in this safehouse with four heavily armed men.

Time isn’t the endless resource you imaged yesterday morning. It isn’t a solid path with clear, expected landmarks with which to gauge your progress. It’s ice, and the patch under your feet spiderwebs with ominous cracks.

You realize Laswell is speaking again.

“- handle the situation Stateside. Your current location is one of my private safehouses. Not on any list. Totally secure. I think it’s best to stay there and treat it as your base of operations for now, Captain.”

The captain, leaning over your shoulder to get in frame, nods. He’s too close without touching you, but no one’s indicated your part in this is finished. So you stay put.

“Rog,” he says.

“The attack is our chief priority, but closing the active cell in England and following their trail back to Makarov is a close second. I already have taps being set on a few of the names on that list.” Laswell says your name, and she clearly tries to soften her war face, but she’s all business right now. “I’m leaving you in the custody of the 141, under Captain Price.”

He gently claps you on the shoulder, like he’s assuming command. “Understood. Keep us in the loop, Kate.”

“Roger that. Keep your heads down. Stay safe. Over and out.”

The feed cuts out, Gaz – Kyle? – closes the laptop, moving the chaos out of the way as the Scotsman appears with a first aid kit. None of the soldiers leave space for an awkward pause. They all have a mission. Somewhere to be. Something to do.

The captain pulls a second chair up beside yours, meeting your gaze with another of his disarmingly charming smiles that crinkles at his eyes. As he and the Scot begin sorting through the kit, he says, “We’re overdue for introductions. Captain John Price.”

He holds out his hand, and you tentatively accept it in a piss poor handshake, but his smile doesn’t break, and he gestures at the Scotsman. “That’s Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, or Soap.”

The sergeant waves with a handful of cotton pads and disinfectant. He points into the corner, where Skull Face lurks. “Grumpy bastard in the corner’s Ghost. He’s a lieutenant. If you were curious.”

No one offers his real name, and you swallow down every question with a vengeance. The names make them seem real, concrete, and you seize the lifeline they’ve thrown.

You make eye contact with the last man, trying to prove you aren’t a sack of potatoes in human skin and have an actual, working brain between your ears. “And you’re Gaz?”

He smiles, reaching over the table to shake your hand in a way that makes you double down on your bet that he’s the youngest. Certainly the least jaded, even if he’s every bit the soldier the others are. “Sergeant Kyle Garrick, yeah.”

Ghost pushes off from the wall and heads back towards the front door. “I’ll take first watch.”

Whether he’ll be watching the road from a sniper’s perch or chilling by a window, you can only guess, but his captain gives him another nod, and off he goes. Sociable as an alley cat.

“Let’s see about that hand, then.” Calloused fingers rasp along the underside of your wrist as the captain lifts your hand into the light. He arranges it carefully on the table, keeping his touch gentle so you don’t feel the raw bands of irritated skin where the zip ties bruised you.

It isn’t like you’re resisting. The bloody nail beds don’t look right, and you’re struggling to believe they belong to you at all. There’s an experiment where people develop an artificial connection to and fear for an artificial hand. You feel like you’re in an opposite test. Your eyes say the hand on the table belongs to you, but it doesn’t feel that way. If the captain sawed it off instead of gingerly spraying antiseptic ointment over the exposed nerves, you might just shrug it off.

The bandages hurt, though.

The pain tugs at your gut, and you rejoin your whole body with a shudder. That hurts, too. You take a deep breath, and your stomach aches. Your free hand squeezes into a fist, and the scabs on your knuckles crack open. When tears flood your eyes, you can only imagine what new agonies they’d summon if you let them fall, so you blink furiously and pretend your eyelashes aren’t so wet they stick together.

As his captain finishes treating your hand, the Scot – MacTavish, Johnny, Soap, whatever the fuck you’re supposed to call him – takes a seat on the table, pinches your chin, and puts one of those little cleansing pads he’d been fussing with to work. It stings like a bitch, and you flinch despite your best efforts.

Still holding your chin, he angles your face up and blows over a series of cleaned scrapes on your cheek. The tiny breeze might as well be a hurricane. It knocks the soul from your body, and you go entirely still, befuddled.

“The fuck, Soap?” Gaz asks.

The Scot huffs, getting back to work with a fresh gauze pad, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “You’re supposed to blow on cuts,” he grumbles, like he’s trying to sound gruff to make up for the accidental sentiment. “So they don’t sting.”

It makes you want to smile. You can’t remember how right now, but maybe you’ll think back to this moment and smile about it later.

“Thanks,” you say instead.

Soap has not forgotten how to smile. “You’re welcome, bonnie. Let me put a butterfly plaster on this, and you’ll be fit as a fiddle again.”

A nice thought, and maybe true for a soldier like him, but every screaming inch of your body informs you this is a lie.

The captain taps your knee, pulling your attention back to the fading crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He lifts a finger and leads your gaze from side to side, leaning in close to see if your pupils are the same size. “Doesn’t look like you have a concussion. Are you hurt anywhere else? Any risk of internal bleeding? Cracked ribs?”

Gaz, seeing your confusion (because how the fuck would you KNOW if you were bleeding internally?) offers some helpful context. “Did they kick you in the stomach? Any sharp pains in your chest when you breathe?”

Did they kick you? You can’t really remember. Probably. It’s all a furious blur of motion and panic.

“I’m not sure.”

It’s the truth, but it’s a bad one. The captain nods as a wintery flash passes over Gaz’s face. “That’s all right. Let us know if you notice any unusual swelling or new pains, yeah?”

“Okay.”

One more big smile – a bit forced, definitely for show – lifts his whiskers, and he climbs out of his chair, pulling it out of your way.

Gaz steps up to lead you out of the kitchen. You feel like a football – always under someone’s control, being run by one teammate to the next. But what else is there to do to, really? You follow him up a narrow flight of stairs to a pokey hall on the second level. There are three doors, and the first you pass has three twin beds crammed inside. The second is smaller but only holds two beds. And the last door leads to a bathroom. Gaz, clearly used to safehouse etiquette, fishes a washcloth, towel, and little bar of soap out of the deep, dark depths of a cupboard too high for you to reach.

He sets them on the counter in a tidy pile and says, “You really shouldn’t get your bandages wet for forty-eight hours, but I bet you feel like hell. Washing up a little with just the sink might help.”

His big brown eyes fix on you, too soft and looking for some kind of confirmation you’re okay without getting in your face.

Are you broken?

Fuck. They’re all trying to make this normal. What happened isn’t their fault, and they’ve surely seen worse. They probably don’t have to babysit damaged goods after the fact very often, though. The least you can do is try to make this normal for them, too.

“Like a bus ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again.” You think for a minute and add: “Might’ve been some Nazgul, or cave trolls, or some other shit, too.”

The soldier snorts. A grin catches him by surprise and turns his whole face bright. The effort was definitely worth it.

“Tolkien? I like it.” As he moves out of the bathroom, he points at the smaller bedroom. “Take whatever bed in there you want. Since one of us will be on watch, we probably won’t need the other one. Give you a bit of privacy. Try to get some rest, yeah?”

You can’t imagine how you’ll fall asleep, but you act like his suggestion is as reasonable as it sounds.

“Of course.”

He leaves you alone.

You soak the washcloth in tepid water and peel off your shirt. There’s a countdown of little tasks in your head, ways to delay the inevitable. How long can you linger over the soap and cheap terrycloth? What if you just lock the door and keep wake sitting on the cold floor?

Then you notice your reflection.

You haven’t thought about what you look like. It’s less your face staring back and more a collection of hurts, and you struggle to find yourself through the bruises and bandages.

Everything aches, throbs, or stings. You’re so scared you want to smash your head into the counter just in case it’s like in the movies, and time rewinds, letting you wake up in bed at the hostel with a clear head and free day to play tourist. You know how to do that. Always going, doing, seeing. Always a task, a plan, an idea.

Now your hands are empty – apart from that one fucking piece of glitter you can’t get off between your thumb and forefinger. It winks in the light, and you scrub at it in a frenzy. You clean everything in a rush, too rough with your bruises, but you’re on the verge of a breakdown, and you don’t want to fall apart in anything resembling a public space.

It’s all been too much for too long.

You open the door carefully, peek up and down the hall, wary of minding eyes. Then you nearly trip over your own feet getting into the smaller bedroom.

Door shut.

Shoes off.

Everything else stays on, every layer between you and the world outside a blessing as you bury yourself alive under a stiff, scratchy blanket that probably came from a secondhand shop two decades ago. Your breath catches when you breathe in, like you’re choking on the stuff you need to live. The air bubbles out in gasps. Painful. On the verge of sobs. But that would be too loud. You must be quiet and still or something awful will find you again.

It's a good thing tears are silent. You soak the flat pillow with them, hiding in the dark under the covers.

Impossibly, you do sleep. It takes a while, but your body screams for rest, and it pulls you deep as you cry yourself out into nightmares of voices arguing just behind your head, and eyes that send beams of light around shadowed walls.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #141 x reader #cod fanfic #cod fanfiction #fanfiction

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