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halfvalid · 7 months

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁

speak teeth

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

alternate title: i need the lord

rating: explicit

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position

author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.

tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.

Roronoa Zoro did not like you.

The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal.

It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew.

In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue.

Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom.

You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement.

Nobody else was, though.

And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?”

There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?”

You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!”

“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.”

“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.”

“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing.

“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market.

“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?”

“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.”

“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.”

Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.”

“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.”

Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.

You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth.

“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.

Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked.

“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.”

Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—

“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade.

“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.”

Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.”

“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—”

Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.”

“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back.

You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.”

“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look.

“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?”

“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.

“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes.

“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!”

“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back.

“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just—”

“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.

“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him.

“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position.

“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store.

“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face.

“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—”

The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart.

“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now.

“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.”

Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.

You were kissing Zoro before you could even think.

“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.

And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this.

Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe.

His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.

He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat.

There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh.

Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.”

“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?”

“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.”

“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”

Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would.

Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly.

“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point.

You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with.

He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more.

You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—

He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development.

Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”

Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.”

“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him.

“I am not.”

“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered.

Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.”

You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?”

Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.”

Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed.

“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”

Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt.

“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.”

You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.”

Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?”

“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”

Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.”

You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.”

Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered.

This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue.

Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises.

Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit.

His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured.

Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered.

“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you.

You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth.

“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back.

“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation.

“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?”

“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.”

“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours.

One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.”

“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember.

Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties.

He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered.

Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.”

“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.

“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length.

There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point.

One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss.

You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.

Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.

Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge.

You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite.

Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him.

There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning.

You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side.

After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.”

Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it.

“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage.

“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.”

You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that.

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shadesoflsk · 4 months

Text

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind.

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president.

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer.

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works.

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why.

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain.

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness.

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human.

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes.

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition.

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be.

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers.

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that!

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now.

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed.

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk.

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. — He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows.

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes.

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words.

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon.

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before.

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter.

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s.

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you.

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face.

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone.

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment.

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead?

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her.

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air.

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you.

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret.

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air.

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest.

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his.

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception.

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.”

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body.

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end.

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him.

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair.

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it.

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day?

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax?

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus.

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact, you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was.

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it.

But right now he wants to be a child again.

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary.

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision.

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body.

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted.

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up.

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed.

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced. You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend.

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying.

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek – you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it.

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way.

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago.

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep.

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.”

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.”

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming.

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love.

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone.

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside.

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others.

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off.

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world.

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe.

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence.

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs.

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task.

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist.

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch.

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length.

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you.

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant.

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace.

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love.

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs.

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face.

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax.

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands.

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while.

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand.

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side.

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose.

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny.

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him.

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him.

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions.

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.”

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism.

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there.

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night.

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture.

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.”

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now.

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him.

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat.

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?”

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on.

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #resident evil

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joelslastofus · 2 months

Text

[SUMMARY: Joel acts like he doesn’t like you until he comes across your rapist.]

TW: MENTION OF RAPE. Angst

“What did he do?” His voice was low, eerie like, suddenly he looked angry as you stood still before him.

Ever since Tess had died Joel became more unbearable to deal with. The two of you had only known each other a couple months before she passed away but never got close to one another, if anything Joel acted like he didn’t like having you around. He barely held any conversations with you unless it involved a plan he needed you to be on the same page with him about. Silently he’d share food with you but that was pretty much as far as he’d go.

“Get up, we’re gonna keep moving today” Joel woke you up out of your sleep gathering his belongings as you sighed.

“I thought you said we’d stay here for two nights-“

“Plans changed. We’re leaving soon” you groaned as you got on your feet and began to pack. This journey to Marlene seemed a lot longer than you thought it would be.

“Are you sure Marlene even has what you want?” You asked with a sigh. He didn’t respond instead handing you your weapon so you could follow him out.

Walking with Joel through the woods your foot accidentally slid down a rock making you gasp loudly. Joel quickly turned with his knife ready to attack only to find you straightening your shirt.

“I slipped” he didn’t respond only looking irritated and turned back to continue walking. You didn’t understand why Joel always seemed so bothered by you, had he not promised Tess that he’d look after you, he wouldn’t have stuck around with you. Tess never shared to him the true reason why she wanted him to care for you but when you first met her you had confided in her the brutal things that you overcame. One of them being that you were held captive for a couple months by a group not far out, one of the men in their group being your rapist, you were always afraid to come across this man again. Little did Tess know, this very same man was running things alongside Marlene.

“Joel, have I done something to upset you at any point?” You asked trying to keep up with him.

“No” he responded without looking your way.

“So what’s your issue?”

“I don’t have a damn issue, now let’s keep moving” you gave up at that point not saying a word. Joel truly didn’t have a specific issue with you, he just chose to not allow himself to get close to anyone ever again, he had lost too much.

Finally making it to Marlene’s you followed behind Joel walking in. You had no idea whom Marlene was or anything about the place but being with Joel you just did as he said. Standing beside him a few feet away you were introduced to Marlene. She seemed like a woman who was strictly about business, she spoke to him of the car she had promised.

Of course, tomorrow it would be ready.

You didn’t speak during their conversation, not thinking much of anything until the door opened and a man walked in. Instantly your heart sunk, your stomach turned as the man stood by Marlene confidently before noticing you.

“This is my right hand man, he does what I say, when I say and can always be counted on” Marlene introduced the man beside her, you found yourself unable to speak. You knew who this man was, how could you not?

Edward….you’d never forget his name, one year ago this man made your life a living hell. Your throat felt like it was closing up, your heart racing-

“Look who it is” Edward grinned towards you making Marlene raise a brow at you. Joel turned to you as you looked down taking a deep breath.

“Small world” Marlene muttered but Joel noticed something off with your reaction.

“Anyways, Joel” Marlene got his attention explaining what would happen.

“Tomorrow before the evening I should have a car for you, for now you two can stay in a room I have prepped” Joel didn’t like the idea of staying an extra day but silently nodded and took the offer. Thankfully Edward and Marlene left the room before someone else led you to the room you would both stay in. Your heart felt like it would come out your chest but you couldn’t find it in you to speak. Joel walked ahead of you opening the door to the room. You stood by the door closing it behind you watching as he placed his backpack on the bed without looking back. Your body felt as if it would collapse any moment, you couldn’t stay here, you couldn’t be around Edward yet you knew you couldn’t say a thing.

That night Joel noticed you seemed a bit fidgety but he didn’t say a word. He lay back on his bed and watched as you double checked the locks on the door twice before laying down.

“You know we’re safe here right?” You looked up not noticing Joel had been watching you.

“Y-yeah” you nodded before turning over and facing the wall. That night you didn’t sleep, if anything you hoped Joel would sleep so he wouldn’t hear you crying in the middle of the night. Of course that didn’t work, at one point Joel opened his eyes thinking he was hearing something but he couldn’t make out what it was until he looked over and noticed you seemed like you were trembling. Quickly he sat up unsure of what to do, slowly he got up from the bed and noticed you were whimpering in your sleep. He didn’t know what the hell to do, he’d never seen you like this before but he knew damn well what it felt like. Delicately he placed his hand on your shoulder and tried to wake you.

“Hey” you continued to whimper but wouldn’t open your eyes. Joel cleared his throat and leaned in closer to you prepared for you to be startled.

“Hey wake up” he shook you a little harder making your eyes quickly open. You gasped unaware who was near you, unaware that you had even been dreaming, raising your hand ready to hit whoever it was Joel caught your wrist in mid air.

“Easy, honey”

You looked up at him confused, you hadn’t even realized you fell asleep now here was Joel looking down at you with concern. Once he was sure that you knew it was him, he released your arm as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’m sorry” you whispered.

“It’s alright, just havin’ a bad dream is all” he looked at you for a moment curious to ask you what was it that made you so upset but didn’t say a word.

“I’m right here if you need me” he motioned towards the bed on the other side of the room. You quietly nodded and watched as he got back into bed. Turning away from him you could feel the embarrassment from what had just happened yet you were surpsied by how gentle he handled it. It was a new side you both had seen of each other.

The next day you did your best to stay clear from wherever Eduardo could be, and so you decided to stay in the room.

Just one more day of this, one day and you’d be gone. Joel explained to you that he would be going over something with Marlene leaving you by yourself. You assured him it was fine and sat on the bed reading a book you always carried around after making sure the door was locked. Sometime had passed when you heard the door unlock and you figured it was Joel. Laying comfortably facing the wall you flipped the page hearing the door close behind you.

“What happened with Marlene?” You asked when you felt the touch of a hand on your arm making you turn to see it was the very person you had been trying to avoid.

Edward

Quickly you jumped up, your back against the wall as he smirked at your reaction.

“It’s been a while” you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t believe he was right in front of you.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost” he chuckled placing his hand on your thigh. If you could move any further away you would’ve, he could see how anxious he made you.

“Relax, sweetheart I’m not gonna do anything” he licked his bottom lip pushing his hand further up your thigh.

“I just wanted to say hi to an old friend”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek as you tried to turn away.

“It’s a shame you’re leaving tomorrow, thought we could’ve had some fun” he laughed walking back out of the room and closed the door shut.

In shock you sat there with disgust, the simple touch or his hand on your thigh making you sick to your stomach.

You couldn’t do this, you didn’t care about a damn car no matter how badly you both needed it. Quickly you got up running to the door locking it shut once again afraid he would return.

Where the hell was Joel…all you wanted to do was leave.

After what felt like forever you finally heard the door begin to unlock, your heart jumping at the sound.

“Joel?” You called out worriedly to see his face as soon as the door opened.

“Yeah, it’s me” he walked past you not noticing the panic attack you were feeling in that moment.

You watched as he fold a paper and placed it in his backpack, a knot in your throat you struggled to speak.

“Joel” you finally were able to utter a word in a soft whisper. Going through his backpack he didn’t respond not having heard your voice. You struggled to speak again, stomach turning just at the thought of your rapist knowing where you were…the fact that he came to you when you were alone..

“Joel” you spoke a little louder where he was able to hear you.

“Yea” he responded as he zipped up his bag.

“Joel…I can’t stay here another night” you blurt out.

“What?” He asked confused with your statement still not looking back.

“We’re fine here, it’s just till the afternoon’” he assured you making your panic rise.

“No, I…Joel I can’t stay here” he noticed how your voice trembled and slowly turned to you. His eyebrows furrowed once he noticed the worry in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” He stood straight fully facing you.

“Can we just go?” You didn’t want to give the reason, you didn’t want to speak of it.

“We’re getting the car tomorrow, its just one more night-“

“Joel please” you whispered taking a deep breath making him take a step closer. He stood silent, he could tell something had terrified you.

“Somethin’ happen while I was gone?” He asked making you quickly shake your head.

“No, no just please-“ you began to hyperventilate.

“I can’t, I can’t-“ you struggled to breathe when someone knocking on the door made you run into Joels arms. Confused he looked down at you slowly placing his hands on your back sensing the true horror you felt.

“Hey, hey it’s alright, it’s alright” he whispered feeling you shake in his arms. It was like the night before, all over again only this time something in your waking life was scaring the shit out of you. The sound of another knock making you grab onto his shirt.

“Give me a minute!” He called out feeling you hide your face against his chest.

“Hey” he whispered low looking down at you but before he could say another word Edwards voice heightened your fear.

“It’s me, Edward” your eyes widened as you silently began to shake your head.

“What is it, darlin’?” Your panic not allowing you to realize the softness Joel had in his voice with concern over you. The door suddenly opening sending you rushing behind Joel.

Edward appeared at the door.

“I was just making sure you guys had what you needed” a smile Joel didn’t trust appeared on his lips as he leaned over to get a peak at you. You felt Joel’s hand reach behind you holding you against him.

Edward could see the defensive look in Joel’s eyes and wondered if you had told him anything.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked testing what he would say.

“I got her” is all Joel responded with as Edward looked at him curiously. Not saying another word Edward took a step back giving Joel a nod before leaving the room. Joel waited until he disappeared from his site before giving your thigh a tap behind him.

“He’s gone” he assured you making you slowly peak over his shoulder to see the empty hallway that led to the room. Quickly you ran to the door shutting it closed and locking it with each lock it had.

“We need to get our stuff and get out of here now” you ran to grab your bag and his before he tried to stop you.

“Wait a minute, wait-“ he grabbed you by your arms stopping you before you grabbed anything else. Joel was struggling to understand what exactly had you so afraid of this man.

“Joel, we need to go-“

“Talk to me for a minute”

“No! There’s nothing to talk about, I am not staying here!” You screamed trying to break free from his hold.

“What the hell did he do to you?!”

“Nothing!” You tried to shake his hands off you once more but failed.

“We can’t leave without that car, we need that car if we wanna make it-“

“I don’t care! I’m not staying here with him!”

“He’s not gonna do anything to you, darlin’ I promise you that-“ you shook your head in frustration that he wasn’t understanding.

“He won’t lay a finger on you-“

“He already has!” You suddenly blurt out silencing Joel. An intense look in his eyes as he took a deep breath looking down at you.

“What did he do?” His voice was low, eerie like, suddenly he looked angry as you stood still before him.

“It was long ago” you whispered.

“Doesn’t matter” he quickly responded.

“I had told Tess, I never thought I would see him again….it was a year ago…I had nowhere to go and he said he would help me. He’s the man who raped me.” you looked down as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Did he come in here while I was gone?” He leaned in closer. You looked up and hesitantly nodded when he abruptly walked out past you charging down the hall.

“Joel!” You called out for him trying to keep up but all Joel could see was red.

“What are you doing?!” You yelled as he kicked the door open where Marlene and Edward both were. Without warning he yanked up Edward by his collar throwing him against the wall as Marlene stood up.

“Joel what the hell are you doing?”

“Stay out of this” he looked at her with a look you had never seen and grabbed Edward once again as he struggled to get on his feet.

“Whatever she said she’s a lying bitch!” He tried to poorly defend himself causing Joel to punch him repeatedly. In shock you stood in the doorway watching it all play out, Joel had lost complete control until Edward was a bloody mess.

“Oh my god-“ you whispered.

Joel stood up and walked towards Marlene who backed up not knowing what he would do.

“Give me the fucking keys” he spoke out of breath. Not even trying to fight him she opened the drawer and tossed him the car keys before he looked back at Eduardo.

“Should be more careful of who you have workin’ for ya. Got a rapist on your hands” Joel walked out of the room without looking at you in the eye, taking your hand he led you out.

In disbelief you walked alongside him trying to keep up, at one point looking behind you.

He still wouldn’t say a word.

Joel opened the car door for you and quickly got in the drivers seat before driving off.

Speeding down the road he didn’t take his eyes off it before abruptly pulling over. You could see him though the corner of your eye turning his body fully toward you, you didn’t know what to expect.

“You don’t ever keep somethin’ like that from me again. We clear?” You nodded in silence looking down at your lap.

“We would’ve never stayed there for even one night had I know what he done to you. You ever feel unsafe again I need ya to tell me and you tell me right away”

“Yes Joel” you whispered.

Turning back towads the road he pulled off feeling he came off kind of harsh towards you which wasn’t what he wanted. Unexpectedly you felt him place his hand on your lap bringing you a sense of calmness. He slowly entangled his fingers with yours without looking your way, you had no idea what this meant but one thing was for sure..

Joel made you feel safe.

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joel miller fan fic #tlou fanfiction

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lizziesfirstwife · 1 year

Text

Yearning

✿ neteyam x fem!reader ✿

➳ summary: neteyam and you have been crushing on each other for the longest time, with a lot of built-up tension. However, neither of you expected his parents to get in the way of your love.

➳ warnings: him and reader aged up, tiny bit of angst, mention of readers parents being dead, neteyam and you pining over eachother, slight talks about arranged marriage/ mates if you squint, fluff at the end

➳ note: this is my first avatar work, so please be nice! Reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated <3

You were fed up. Fed up with his longing stares, and especially with the looks the other villagers gave you. Like you couldn't hear the whispers. As if you couldn't feel their condescending looks. Him staring at you only made matters worse for the fact.

Neteyam couldn't care less about the villagers. Hell, he didn't even know what exactly they were whispering about. Their disparaging looks didn't make it too difficult to figure out, though. You were perfect in his eyes. You had never judged him when he cried in your arms at night, while he let down the long-since-built walls, constructed as a consequence of his father's harsh words.

Neytiri could only shake her head, amazed at the similarities between her firstborn and her husband. They were both lovable, but when it came to showing that love outwardly to those they loved, embarrassment appeared quicker than she could shoot an arrow. Too many times she's had to wake you up late at night and send you home when you and Neteyam have been fooling around late into the night about some topic she thought was silly, and ended up falling asleep half on top of one another. A true masterpiece, as she would call it. And not infrequently, an unmissable blush would appear on Neteyam's cheeks as soon as she would mention it. With the number of times this already has happened, Jake was more than confused about the sudden change of color on his son's face, only for Neytiri to displeasingly shake her head. Sully boys and love, like she said.

For the two of you, there was only one thing: you would make fun of his little brother for the rest of your days. As friends. What else?

Your parents died in an attack by the sky people just before the Sullys decided to seek out another clan for the safety of their people. You didn't let go of Neteyam's arms for nights on end, and even though your nails were digging into his back, almost painfully, and his chest was smooth with tears, he never sent you away. It wasn't a difficult decision to go with him. Who else did you have?

✿

You walked arm in arm along the beach. The sun shone down on you relentlessly, pleasantly beating down your hair, and warming your skin. You could still feel the freezing wind that blew over the sea, grateful more than ever for the weather Eywa blessed you with after your long journey. Thanks to Neteyam, you had a not-too-hard time arriving, Tuk however took it the hardest. The eight-year-old still refused to make friends her age, instead clinging to her siblings whenever possible. Jake and Neytiri were usually too busy with clan affairs, which hit the youngest harder than she admitted. Lo'ak, however, preferred to spend his time with a certain curly-haired Na'vi. Surely it wasn't on purpose, but an eight-year-old would hardly understand that. Kiri was mostly out in the ocean anyway and didn't come back until late in the evening with a handful of accessories. No way you had a problem taking care of her! But in moments like these, when you were just a girl and Neteyam just a boy with no responsibilities, you were grateful more than ever for Eywa's blessing.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt a prick in your upper left arm. A grin crossed Neteyam's face as you darted around to him, eyes narrowed and mouth wide open. He just shrugged his shoulders. "You could have just said no instead of scaring the hell out of me...looked like your mind left your body." You rolled your eyes. Neteyam has always been the more dramatic of the two of you, which has often shown to not be helpful in the most harmless situations. Neither of you would ever forget the incident with the pa'li, nor Neytiri's 3-hour-long debark. Since then you have never dared to ride one of these creatures again, which couldn't be said of Neteyam. Of course not. He needed adventure like air to breathe, and adventure needed him just as equally.

His long fingers wandered from your shoulder to your waist, where they lingered comfortably. You couldn't help but feel how your breath quickened and your body tingled where it touched Neteyam's. You prayed to Eywa that he couldn't feel how fast your heart was beating. More and more often lately, the eldest Sully boy didn't even have to touch you to get that kind of reaction out of you. But when he touched you... Suddenly you were very aware of his big hand on your waist, the way his fingers dug into the flesh...

"Y/N? Y/N! Wiya, you did it again! Seems like you don't even want to listen to me anymore..."

Pushing the inappropriate thoughts out of your head, you shook your head violently. "Teyam, no! It's just... I don't know. Everything feels so different lately. As if this peace were just a cruel dream, and we could wake up to reality at any moment."

His gaze softened, gently pulling you towards him so that your entire left half was now pressed against his right. "If this was a dream, I'd be glad you were in it. Maybe this is just a dream, so what? Then this would be the best dream ever." He playfully pinched your waist, which elicited an angry squeak. Quickly he averted his eyes and cleared his throat, missing the way your entire face was blushing. Eywa, this must certainly be a dream, he thought. He swallowed hard, looked up at the sky, and then back into your eyes. "My mom keeps asking about you. I think if you don't come to dinner tonight she'll wring my neck herself."

You grinned. "That would be too bad..." He looked at you in mock indignation but couldn't help the laughter that escaped his throat. "So, you'll come? For my mom?", he asked, looking at you with his puppy eyes. Your knees almost buckled at the sight, but you managed to look at him with a pursed mouth. "For your mom? Neteyam, if that's just another excuse to put those nasty leaves in my food that give me a rash-" "It was one time! Lo'ak threatened to push me off my ikran the next time we would have a mission again!", he interrupted you, but quickly closed his mouth when he saw the look in your eyes. Sometimes you were more like his mother than he would have liked. He had apologized to you for hours at the time and sat in front of your tent for 2 days because you had given him the cold shoulder. He could take it that you were mad at him, but it felt as if some part of him was missing when you weren't with him. There was a heavy storm at the time, and he would probably have frozen to death from all the rain and wind if you hadn't dragged him into your tent with your own hands and forced him to eat. He refused to even touch the food until you accepted his apology. Eywa, could he be stubborn...

Slowly you started to walk on, dragging Neteyam with you. You couldn't stay mad at him for long. Not your Neteyam. You breathed in slowly and audibly, a smile again creeping its way onto your face. "How could I ever turn down your mother's food..."

✿

"And then Neteyam here said that he didn't have to bathe for 2 weeks as a protest, just because I pointed out to him that he would scare away the whole prey with such a stench," Neytiri said with a full mouth, a handful of bladder polyps on her plate. The plant's salty taste was delicious, leaving a tingling sensation on your tongue after you chew and swallow it. Jake once compared its taste to the one of a pickle, whatever that was.

Neteyam's face flushed, his eyes grazing yours to see if you even caught his mother's words. He was suddenly very aware of your proximity. How your thigh grazed his, or the sweet smell of the perfume that Tsireya must have given you. He would always prefer your natural scent but still could only pray that his body wouldn't betray him during the duration of this meal. He prayed.

Jake cleared his throat and almost all conversation ceased except for Kiri's soft chatter with Tuk. He admonished the two with a quick look but didn't bother any further with their talk. "This wonderful dinner, prepared by my wonderful mate", he said with a loving gaze toward Neytiri, "finally gives us a chance to get together again. There is much that needs to be talked about, some urgent matters that take priority." Neteyam looked at him warily, not quite taking his gaze off of you yet. Jake was now facing Neteyam, who was switching from looking at you and his father. "As you surely know, the time has come in your life when you have to make certain decisions. Coupled with the rumors going around... Neteyam, you need a mate."

He could have also set fire to the tent, and thrown the entirety of you into the ocean. The sound that escaped from your throat sounded almost outraged. Neteyam swallowed hard, trying to hide the sweat from his hands. There was no way his father chose to have this conversation the one time you agreed on having dinner with him.

"Do we have to have this conversation when Y/N's over?"

"Don't worry, Y/N was expected to have this conversation in a few days as well. Having her eat here with us today only avoids unnecessary complications," Jake dismissed. Neytiri had a look in her eyes that you couldn't read, looking down at her plate vehemently. Tuk's and Kiri's conversation had also fallen silent in the meantime, the two girls now doing the same as their mother, although you could see Tuk sneakily glancing up at what her father was saying.

Neteyam shook his head, but Jake warned him with a look you've seen all too often on the father's face. "Rumors are floating around Neteyam... rumors that you've already chosen someone. Do you know how much concern these rumors are causing? And guess who the number 1 guess is." You knew he meant you. And from the way Neteyams ears twitched, you knew that he was aware of that too.

Neteyam hoped that if everyone saw him with you, they would finally understand that he wasn't interested in anyone else, and certainly never would be. But it rather seemed like it had the opposite effect.

Jake's gaze softened a bit after looking at his wife's reaction. It seemed like she wasn't particularly excited to have this conversation, particularly not with you there to witness it. "I don't want to deprive you of your freedom of choice by any means son, but since you refuse to take Y/N as your-", he started, but Neteyam interrupted him with a snarl. "How many times do I have to tell you that we're friends? Friends! You act like the clan will throw us out if I don't choose a woman tomorrow." But the head of the family did not put up with any arguments. He raised his hand to signal Neteyam to be quiet. "We're lucky the clan took us so well. And surely no one cares that you're still unmated, but do you really want people to start talking? Especially about Y/N, who certainly has nothing to do with your situation."

Neteyam said nothing. He just looked down at his plate, defeated, all appetite driven away. It shouldn't bother you that much. You guys were friends after all, best friends if you can put it that way. But that he preferred to be the number one topic of conversation, instead of even considering mating with you...

No. No. No. You couldn't think like that. It was Neteyam after all! Your accommodating, incredibly considerate Neteyam, whom you would like to wring his neck for all the feelings he aroused in you. You didn't even notice your feet carrying you out of the tent, nor Neytiri's worried look, or Tuk's plaintive call of your name.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't just Neteyam who needed adventure in his life to survive. And perhaps it was Neteyam who was the real adventure in your life. Who was your adventure...

✿

The waves were unusually calm as you were sitting on the sand with Tsireya by your side as if Eywa sensed how shaken you were. It has been a week since the incident at the Sullys. You were thankful more than ever to have your own tent, as you didn't want any confrontation with Neteyam or his parents yet. You weren't sure if you would ever want that. Tsireya must have noticed your sudden change in mood because she said nothing, instead sitting next to you while the two of you worked on a necklace. She firmly believed that being creative and doing something was a great help against bad moods. And truly, you haven't felt at peace like that since before the dinner a week ago.

Your fingers almost hurt from the repeating motion you had to do to create the certain pearl pattern you wanted in your necklace, when you suddenly heard voices behind you. No no no. Your field of vision was suddenly blocked from the sun, and you had to tilt your neck uncomfortably to face the source of your problems. Of course, your moment of peace had to be interrupted by him. Neteyam Sully had his hands clasped behind his back and his expression seemed blank, were it not for the small smile that had long been reserved just for you. Tsireya looked back and forth between you, asking you with a silent look if this was okay with you. You just nodded slightly, never taking your eyes off Neteyam. Taking the hint, she took her unfinished necklace and quietly snuck away.

Neteyam looked after her until she disappeared from his sight, and then took the spot next to you where Tsireya just sat. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes until he finally spoke. "You know, my mom almost killed me when I didn't run after you." You didn't say anything, which he took with a nod and the sign to continue. "I never really paid attention to girls when I grew up. Why should I when I grew up with the best of them?" You slowly turned to him and realized that his eyes were on you. You almost stood up, if his eyes didn't have that pleading look in them. So you just continued to listen.

"I've never questioned my disinterest in girls growing up, thinking that the right one just hadn't walked into my life yet. But I was stupid, so stupid. Eywa, I probably still am." You couldn't help but grin at his words, and he laughed at how easily he could coax a reaction out of you. Slowly, not wanting to scare you away, he slipped his hands into yours so that you were now facing him. "Y/N... I never saw it. I never understood why my parents never wanted to stop teasing me about you. But I guess I didn't want to see it. Didn't want to realize that there was a possibility, a big one at that, that you might not feel the same as I do." Your heart was beating wildly, and you thought for a moment that he could hear how wildly it was beating, how wildly it was beating for him, when his gaze slid to your chest and then up again. He gently squeezed your hand, unconsciously stroking the back of your hand with his thumb soothingly.

You knew what he was getting at, the look in his eyes almost unbearable. You didn't know what you were supposed to say, your throat feeling tight all of a sudden, unable to get any sound out of it. So you just scooted closer to him, your chest now barely touching his. "I always thought there was something wrong with me. That I wasn't in a position to like the chief's son even a little bit more than his best friend should. But..." You looked up at him desperate, gazing at his lips for a short second. His pupils dilated with something indescribable at seeing your flushed cheeks and blown eyes. You could have sworn that the air around you was buzzing. No words needed to be said as you two stared at each other, no words to express the magnitude of feelings that existed between you.

"Neteyam, I-"

"I see you Y/N."

You sat there with a dumbfounded look on your face, mouth wide open at the fact that he shamelessly interrupted your confession. Part of you wanted to smack him in the chest for that, but you were sure that any more physical contact would make your heart actually fail. He saw you. He is seeing you.

Neteyam didn't know how you managed to smile that hard, or how his heart could beat as hard as it was right now, but Eywa would he put up with it a thousand times more if it meant he would be able to see that look on your face again.

"I see you too, skxawng."

You didn't want to think of all the consequences that this moment would bring, or how tomorrow would be after you woke up and the situation would sink in your head.

You were right. He was your adventure, but you were also his. He needed adventure like he needed air to breathe, and for the first time in ages, it felt like he was finally able to again.

With you.

#avatar twow #avatar the way of water #avatar pandora #avatar #avatar neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #avatar x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam oneshot #neteyam sully #jake sully #neytiri #lo'ak sully #kiri sully #tuk sully

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sapphicseasapphire · 5 months

Text

Thoughts to ponder.

Tears of the Kingdom spoilers (and lots of rambles) under the cut

When I started the Chain as Cryptids au, I didn’t really think I’d be able to work Tears of the Kingdom in, seeing how much I had changed Wild’s story. He’s a spirit with no memory of the Hylian he once was. He’s a force to be reckoned with but can be easily spooked- much like a wild animal. He avoids Flora like the plague since she’s his connection to the life he used to have. The life that isn’t his anymore.

But then… I had an idea. Flora would be desperate to find her Link again after discovering that he’s still alive (or… not really alive. Not quite a Poe but not quite a Hylian either). Regardless, after the events of Breath of the Wild, she’d start a search party and scour every corner of Hyrule to find him.

She never would. When spirits don’t want to be seen, they aren’t. But… this whole time, I imagined that Korok Forest acted as a sort of home base for Wild. Wild cannot speak verbally but can communicate telepathically with other spirits and spiritual beings. The Koroks and Blupees would be like siblings to him, the Deku Tree being like a parental figure since he basically started life over when he died. (Two Links raised by the Great Deku Tree. He and Time can bond over that later).

ANYWAY. Wild used the Master Sword for about half of the events of Breath of the Wild. But when it would need to recharge, he’d place it back in the pedestal in Korok Forest where it could become stronger under the watchful gaze of the Great Deku Tree. Then he’d be off, never staying in one place for too long, wandering the sandy shores of Necluda or the lava banks of Eldin.

This pattern would stay in place for years after the defeat of Calamity Ganon: Wild stopping at Korok Forest to reunite with his family and let the Master Sword heal and then disappearing into the wilds once more. And over the years, Flora’s search party would shrink until it was just her scouring the continent for her missing knight. Okay, yeah, maybe she’s a little desperate, but she can’t bear the thought of him alone out there. Not when he died because of her. Not when he’s all she has left.

And… when the Master Sword is recharging, that’s when Flora would finally take her search to Korok Forest. She finds the sacred blade but her knight is nowhere to be seen. The Deku Tree allows her to take it, urging her onward, warning her that eventually, she’ll have to use it. She heeds his wisdom, pulling the sword from her resting place and securing it on her back. Then she begins her search anew.

She doesn’t find him.

She trains with the Master Sword while she travels Hyrule. She starts to rebuild. She gets to know her people. And from the cover of countless trees and stone, a certain spirit watches her and his sword.

During her travels, Flora encounters a strange red-black mist that makes her people ill. They call it ‘gloom.’ And, what’s worse, it seems to pour out from under Hyrule Castle. The castle has laid untouched for years now, ever since the Calamity was sealed away and she set out on her search. But now, it would seem that she’s needed once more at the site of her greatest battle. The subject of her nightmares. The place where she los the last piece of her home.

Without her knight at her side, she makes her way to the forgotten foundation of her old life. She’s alone when she travels through the caverns, alone when she follows the melancholy most past murals and carvings that she itches to explore. Flora is alone when the Master Sword glows in warning. Alone when she battles monsters waiting for her in the depths.

The princess is all alone when she discovers a mysterious mummy being held in place by a single glowing arm. She watches as the appendage falls away, a stone falling to the rocky ground with an unassuming click. As she reaches to pick it up, the corpse reanimates. It stands tall, more alert and aware than any Gibdo she’s seen on her journey, and fixes her with a stare that she’d crumble under. She drops her torch and draws the Master Sword, holding the unfamiliar yet warm stone to her chest, and the mummy laughs at her.

It knows her name.

And it attacks.

Flora is alone when the gloom ravages her arm. She’s alone when the Master Sword is the first to crumble under that pressure. She’s alone when the very ground beneath her gives in to that same pressure.

She’s alone when she falls, pain lacing through her arm and golden light enveloping her.

But Flora is not alone when she wakes.

For the purposes of this au, Flora’s time in the past is going to be very similar to canon. She still meets Rauru and Sonia. Still meets Mineru and the Sages and Ganondorf. She still trains to control her secret stone. However, Rauru fixes her arm almost as soon as she arrives in this strange world. He doesn’t give her his, not like he does for Link in TOTK, since he needs it to seal Ganondorf away. But he and Mineru work together to combine construct parts and their own light and spirit magic to make her new muscles and machinery to aid in moving her own ruined arm.

The Imprisoning War is the same.

Sonia dies. Rauru sacrifices himself. And she still has no idea how to get home. How to heal the Master Sword and destroy Ganondorf in her own time. She still speaks with Mineru… and she comes to the same conclusion that she did in canon. This time, though, she’s taking much more of a risk. She can survive the centuries as a dragon, she can heal the sword. But she can’t be sure that her Link will be there to take it and finish things. She hasn’t even seen him in years.

… she doesn’t have a choice.

From Wild’s perspective, it happened in moments. He blinked and suddenly there were islands floating in his skies. Hyrule Castle floats ominously, red plumes of gloom branching out from underneath. Massive sinkholes give way to more of the poison, seeming to drop forever. His forests are ravaged once again, the climate in corners of the continent changing drastically.

And the princess he’d been following is gone.

While trying to get a grasp of what changed so suddenly, he figures out a way up to the Sky Islands. And to his surprise, he discovers a new dragon.

Now, Wild is familiar with all of the dragons in Hyrule. Farosh, Naydra, and Dinraal are just on the threshold of Spirit and Mortal, but they definitely qualify as spiritual beings. Meaning that Wild can speak telepathically to them. Their thoughts are always muddy and jumbled up, so he never gets much out of conversing with them. But he can tell that they enjoy his presence. So he rides with them in the skies of Hyrule for hours at a time.

This new dragon is smaller than the three he knows and flies much higher. Its ears are shorter, hair golden, eyes stunning. Instead of six legs, this one only has five. A scarred stump at its front and a glowing object on- no in- its poor head. Wild makes his way over as fast as he can, desperate to learn more about the beast.

The new dragon’s thoughts are just as jumbled up as he’s used to but he’s caught off guard by how miserable it feels. No. She. How miserable she feels. Wild places a glowing hand on her snout and tries to calm her, but it’s no use. Her thoughts may be chaotic and disorganized, but he senses her distress. She wants- sword. Knight. Link Link Link. You must find me, you have to save them all!

Wild takes the Master Sword from where it was buried in the dragon’s golden mane and is nearly thrown off by her shock at the action. But when his sword is once again in his capable hands, he feels an overwhelming gratitude from the dragon. It’s gone as soon as it came, replaced again by misery. Dread. Grief.

During the events of Breath of the Wild, Wild did not fight to save Zelda. He did not fight to save Hyrule. He fought for the land. For his fellow spirits that were being destroyed by malice. For the forests that were burned down by guardians. For the water that was poisoned by monsters. He defeated Calamity Ganon for his family.

He fights Ganondorf for the same reason. Except… maybe this time, he’s extra motivated by that strange new dragon. She seemed… so sad…

THIS IS GETTING WAY TOO LONG. But suffice to say that after the events of Tears of the Kingdom, Flora does not 100% recover from being a dragon. She keeps her telepathic connection to Wild and her immortality. She keeps her horns and scales and SHE gets the Master Sword. She’s a Cryptid as well, and she’s closer to Wild than she ever was.

. . .

Uhhhhh that was super long I apologize. But rambling like this is so much easier than trying to be coherent and careful when I write. I might to it more often if you think it’s legible haha. Feel free to ask questions haha, I love any excuse to talk about my Cryptid boys and their relationships with people in their worlds.

Wild’s Origin!

#my art #fanart #the legend of zelda #chain as cryptids au #totk fanart #totk zelda #zelda tears of the kingdom #tears of the kindom spoilers #I feel so bad for her #totk??? more like I’m not okay #sapphire rambles way too long #and this is still a FRACTION of what I have written for Sky #CAC origins #half baked ideas #cryptid wild #cryptid Flora #links meet au

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Magnus to Alec

Dear delectable muffin of love,

I hope this perfumed letter finds you well, and that you and R and M are having an excellent time in your exotic journey to…well, I believe the term you used was “upstate.” I have heard legends of this Upstate, but never did I know that my family would see for themselves its mountains, its twee farm markets, its River of the Son of Hud.

More to the point, I hope the kids are enjoying their visit with Grandma, and I hope you are referring to Maryse as “Grandma” as often as possible because I enjoy the face she makes when we do. On a less pleasant but more urgent note, I hope you’ve had a chance to talk with Luke about the Cohort/Idris stuff.

But do not tire your beautiful hands with a written reply. I will be heading to this “Upstate” myself to join you later this afternoon, as I am relieved to report that the business with the Blackthorn kids’ cursed house is more or less resolved. Although it was touch and go, let me tell you.

I don’t think I even showed you the note Jem sent, which said, “Emma and Julian are trying not to bother you about their house, and that is very nice of them, but unlike them, I feel absolutely no compunction about bothering you, and so this is me, now, in this note, bothering you. We are in need of a warlock and you are the best one I know for this. We would all really appreciate your help.”

As is often the case, I was both mildly annoyed and mildly impressed with Jem, who managed to be both very kind and also to remind me that I am a sucker when it comes to him and Tessa and will rush to their aid when I can. Because I am a sucker when it comes to him and Tessa, I wrote back quickly saying I would come.

I know what you’re thinking: “How could Tessa need a warlock when she is a warlock?” But different warlocks have different expertises, as you know, and while Jem was flattering me that I was the best choice, the reality is that I have dealt with a lot more curses than Tessa. That’s what comes of spending the past decades hiring your services out to any miscreants who come by, instead of more intelligently living a calm life as a magic researcher in the Spiral Labyrinth. Tessa always was the smartest of us.

Anyway, I must give Emma and Julian credit. I expected to arrive and find them banging the cursed objects against one another or something, but they had set up a decent enough protective circle and even found a spell. It was an old, kind of generic spell that I have found to rarely be of much use with actual curses in the modern day, but still.

Rather stupidly I set up a basic workaday curse-breaking circle of my own, and gave it a try. “Stupidly” because I had forgotten who did the curse in the first place. Your worst ancestor, Benedict Lightwood, all-around demon enthusiast and dilettante necromancer. How in bed with demons was Benedict? He literally died of demon pox — which if you do not know, because you are beautifully pure, my Alec — is a sexually transmitted demon disease.

But I forgot that in the moment, so I was surprised when the curse put up an impressive resistance. It writhed and thrashed and struck out, like Max being lowered into a bath. The cursed objects were all glowing, kind of neon green, where they were tied to the magic, and eventually I realized I was going to have to carefully unknot each object from the curse, one at a time.

I managed the flask, the dagger, and one of the candlesticks (don’t ask me to explain how THAT happens), but after that I was stuck.

It’s not a great look for a warlock to strike a big magic pose and then nothing happens. I am sure I looked ridiculous, like a mundane magician who couldn’t understand why the rabbit wasn’t coming out of the hat. Julian and Emma are very polite and only waited patiently but I felt quite silly.

And then I lost all my focus temporarily because the door opened and Kit walked in. He sort of looked around at the scene and finally said, “Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick, I see.”

“Purple is always an appropriate color for a warlock,” I said. “It is the decorative color of magic.”

Emma, of course, said, “Your magic is blue,” because she is an inveterate smartass.

“Maybe he meant me,” said Julian. “I’m wearing a purple hoodie. Also because it is the decorative color of magic,” he added with a nod in my direction, which I appreciated.

“Maybe you could put the objects on a purple tablecloth instead of a white one,” Kit said, and while he was talking he walked out to get a closer look.

And when he got close to the circle, Alec, I felt the strangest sensation. A feeling of…power, I suppose, kind of humming in Kit. You know the way your body kind of vibrates when there’s a really really low sound? That rumbling feeling? It was like that, but silent. I’ve never had that experience any of the times I’ve seen Kit before. I could also tell that Kit didn’t feel anything unusual. Or if he did, he was surprisingly casual about it.

So I suggested he come join us around the circle and add his focus to the magic. “Especially since Jem and Tessa have snuck off somewhere rather than helping out with this round.”

“They’re out in the garden with Mina,” Kit said, a little defensively.

I redirected everyone’s attention to the objects and established a somewhat souped-up version of my go-to curse breaker. I went for the other candlestick and BANG. No resistance anymore! There was a big burst of blue and all the knots of magic tying the objects to the curse broke into pieces.

Everyone blinked a bunch. Eventually I said something like, “Well, that was more what I was hoping for. I guess four people made the difference.”

I checked. The curse seemed…gone. I was actually a little shaken. I haven’t mentioned it to Tessa and Jem, because I don’t want to make a big deal of it, but I think it worked because of Kit. Not because we needed a fourth person. Something is going on with him, some magic that is totally outside his awareness. I assume it has something to do with being a descendant of the First Heir, but I’ve never been an expert on that kind of faerie enchantment. (And do burn this letter, after you get it — very few of us know about Kit being the First Heir, and it’s best if we keep it that way.)

It makes me sad to think of it. Kit is a good kid who deserves a good, ordinary life. I know that’s what Jem and Tessa want for him, more than anything, after the chaos that was his growing up. But I am not sure he will have a choice in the matter. Fae may not let him choose.

Julian reached out and took hold of the flask. He held it for a moment, frowning.

“What?” said Emma.

“Nothing,” Julian said. He looked up at me. “Is that it? No more curse?”

“No more curse,” I said. “I hope.”

And then down from the ceiling drifted Rupert the Ghost. I never met Rupert Blackthorn when he was alive. I don’t know what to think of him. On the one hand, he seems to have been an innocent who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a spirit trapped in a house he never lived in because of evil he never knew about while he lived. On the other hand, he met Tatiana Lightwood and thought that lady seems like marriage material, so there must have been something weird going on with him.

Rupert had been hovering and he descended until he was right above the table. He was staring at something on it.

“What is it, Rupert?” said Emma. “What are you looking at?”

Kit followed his gaze and started pushing the objects out of the way. “It’s the ring,” he said.

Emma said, “What ring?”

Indeed, what ring? There wasn’t a ring among the cursed objects. But there was a ring on the table now. Kit picked it up. It was a silver ring, etched with a design of thorns and set with a black stone.

“Blackthorn family ring?” Kit said.

“It’s not how family rings usually look,” Emma said.

“Wedding band?” said Kit.

“Shadowhunters don’t use wedding rings,” said Emma, but Julian had that thoughtful look he gets.

“I am bound here by a silver band,” he said softly.

“Shadowhunters can exchange wedding rings,” I said. “They just aren’t expected to. But they can if they want.”

Whatever it was, it was Rupert’s. He had followed Kit’s hand as it picked up the ring, and now he was reaching out for it with a thin ghostly hand. He wrapped it around the ring, which did absolutely nothing since he’s a ghost – Kit just kind of held it there for him. Then his eyes closed (Rupert’s, I mean) and he got this expression on his face of relief and gratitude and peace, and he just…faded out, right there. Just slowly vanished and was gone. No more Rupert. On to hopefully not being reunited with his wife, since she was also his jailer for over a hundred years.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” Emma said quietly.

“That’s for the best,” I said. “He was never supposed to be here at all.”

“Well, Rupert, if you can hear me,” said Emma, “it was nice being haunted by you.”

“Five stars,” said Kit solemnly, putting the ring back on the table. “Would be haunted again.”

And all the candles went out in the room at once. Which, if it was Rupert, was a nice touch. Though it may have just been a draft.

We all filed out of the room quietly. “It’s different,” Julian said. He was looking around at the hallway. “I can feel it already.”

I could feel it as well. There was a lightness that had not been there. A kind of pleasant hominess that a good house conveys and that had always been absent from Blackthorn Hall in the time I’ve known it. It’s hard to describe, but all at once it felt like Julian and Emma’s home, in a way it hadn’t before. I’ve always known it as a forbidding place, and then as a hideous ruin, but for the first time I thought, this was a place the Blackthorns could fill with joy.

And I’m certain they will.

See you very soon, my love. I shall kiss you until a toddler forces us apart to pay attention to him. So plan for a kiss of about 30-60 seconds, based on previous experience. But I wish, as always, that it could be endless.

Love,

Magnus

#sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #rupert blackthorn #magnus bane #alec lightwood #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #kit herondale #made a change to the ring

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blitzyn · 1 year

Text

unintended effect

dottore x m!reader

request : none

Synopsis: Meeting a new stranger at your shrine didn't go as well as you had expected it to.

cw -> non-con, blood and spit as lube, anal sex, public sex, sadist dottore, kitsune reader, crying, tail pulling, face slapping, non-con drug use, choking, yall get caught but dottore doesnt care lol, brief ear pulling, not proofread

wc -> 3.6k

a/n -> i need him so bad omg. anyways super sorry if its shit. spoilers for the end of the aranara quest!

"It's not often I get new visitors."

Dottore instinctively peered up to face the voice, spotting a figure cloaked within the shadows the night offered. He could faintly see the way they curled atop the statue he stood in front of.

"I'm not visiting." He spoke with unhidden confidence.

"So what brings you here, then?" They questioned. Truth be told, finding the shrine was an accident. Although he read about them, he was far too busy with Scaramouche's ascension to "godhood". But he'd amuse you for a while longer.

“I’m simply taking a stroll,” he answered, placing his hands behind his back.

“It is quite the night for a walk, isn’t it?” He could faintly see something swish within the air. "Our village is well known for its night."

That was strange. He would have thought it would be a tourist hotspot for the sunset or sunrise - not the night. There wasn't anything noteworthy that he could see.

"Not here, of course." He could hear the amusement in your voice when you saw him slightly tilt his head in confusion. "I haven’t done anything praiseworthy yet.”

He quietly watched as you jumped down the statue, finally able to see your features. He was a bit surprised to see that you were not a human and had fox attributes. Your five tails swayed behind you, so he was able to surmise that you were around five-hundred years old. He heard about kitsunes before, though the only one currently well-known was the Head Shrine Maiden: Yae Miko in Inazuma.

He must admit, your species mildly fascinated him for a time, although the interest very quickly died out throughout his time in the Akademiya. Now that one was standing before him, that interest may have been rekindled.

"I am the guardian of the village," you spoke, ever graceful in your movements. Though, he did wonder what exactly what you were guarding against. As far as he knew, his agents informed him of the famed Traveler who adventured with the Aranara and defeated something called the “Marana Avatar '' which was the source of all Withering Zones. The only formidable enemies he saw on his journey here were the Fungi that mindlessly hopped around.

“It’s not the most interesting thing in the world, I admit,” you turned around to collect the offerings gathered within the foot of the shrine. “Not much to protect.”

You quietly laughed to yourself. “My mother would have my head if she ever heard me say that.”

“How so?” he questioned, watching as you organized a few things.

“She passed away during the Cataclysm. This village was her pride and found joy in defending it. I was but a kit at the time, so she was mostly on her own while she fought.” You sighed, though you didn’t appear the least bit upset.

It wasn’t a very thrilling tale, but he was able to surmise that you thought so, too.

“Do you enjoy guarding the village against rogue mushrooms?” The way he spoke almost made it seem as if he were genuinely asking, but the small, condescending smile that adorned his face told you that he was teasing your profession.

You laughed. “Oh, Gods’ no. I would very much rather be somewhere else right now.”

“Then why haven’t you left? I don’t see any benefits in staying,” he said. “I’m confident your villagers will be able to defend themselves if the Fungi wander around.”

“The only thing keeping me anchored here are the children that offer me some of their candy every so often,” you explained, motioning to the small basket in your hands. “They look up to me.”

“They want to become avid Fungi hunters when they’re older?” He was beginning to enjoy speaking with you, even if there wasn’t much to talk about. Maybe it’s natural Kitsune charm?

You barked out yet another laugh. “I don’t see why, either. But, hey, free candy.”

Dottore uncovered an opportunity in your words. Various reports submitted to him reveal that children were far more likely to see the Aranara if they stumbled upon a dangerous situation. To ordinary humans, the Fungi posed a threat even to adults (as pathetic as that was), so if he managed to persuade you into leaving, one of the children could maybe encounter one of the fairies. But he was not opposed to taking you away by force, either. He would not let this chance slip by him - not after the majority of his agents stationed in Sumeru failed their mission.

“But other than that, what’s really stopping you?” Pride? A sense of responsibility? “It seems you’re not needed here.”

“Harsh.” You knew he was just saying it as it was. “Realistically? Mora. Ideally? The children.”

He hummed. “I am capable of providing you with sufficient housing and a generous amount of money.”

Your ears visibly perked up at his proposal. “But I do ask that you work for me in return.”

You looked off to the side, seemingly in thought before you looked back at him. “I’m no mercenary.”

“Maybe not, but don’t you crave a change of pace? To finally bask in what the rest of the world has to offer?” You were seriously tempted to accept his suggestion, but the chains of doubt wrapped around your wrists and pulled you back down to reality. You didn’t know if he was lying or not. While you were able to defend yourself just fine if anything were to go wrong, you preferred the safer option of just not letting it happen.

You shook your head in response. “That would be amazing, but I’ll have to decline your offer.”

He was confused. You complain, but you decide to stay? Where was the logic behind your words? Were you tied down by your mother’s legacy, perhaps? Maybe there was something else besides the weak reasons you so confidently spoke of.

A chill ran down your spine as he studied you. You were unable to see the majority of his face with his mask covering the top half of it, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell that he was unhappy with your answer.

While he wasn’t satisfied, he wasn’t left at a loss, either.

“Very well, then,” he said after a time. You smiled at his understanding, before turning on your heels to begin your trek towards the village. He watched your back for a moment before he felt his fingers slightly twitch. He managed to come up with a plan as soon as you declined; inject you with a type of drug that would make you pass out and tie you up in one of his laboratories. Simple, but effective.

He walked in your direction as his hand reached into one of his pockets to grab a syringe already full of the drug. He discreetly uncapped it before lunging towards you to tug your head forward and force the needle into the back of your neck. It was done before you could be given time to really process what just happened, but the sharp sting kept you grounded. You looked back in surprise and pressed onto the injection site in reflex while backing away from the man.

“What did you do?” Your voice was weak in shock, a pit of fear beginning to form within your chest. You heard the rustling of his clothes steadily grow louder, but you simply chalked it up as him on his way back to wherever he came from. He amusedly observed your ears flattening alongside the back of your head and how two of your tails wrapped around your legs while the others curled in a way that reminded him of a fearfully submissive dog.

“I gave you a dose of a simple knock-out drug,” he explained, leisurely striding closer to you. “It was originally for one of those forest fairies, if I ever got the chance to find one. They’re quite difficult to come across so I do hope using it on you is worth my time.”

He hummed and looked away in thought. He had heard they were relatively easy to befriend as long as you helped them out a little, so he hoped one didn’t show up right at this moment. Once he transported you to a well-hidden spot, he could create another drug and use it on a fairy. But he was slightly taken aback when he realized that you were still standing. It should’ve affected you by now.

It clearly had some type of effect on you, judging by the flushed look on your face. You were panting and your legs were trembling, it was a fight in and of itself just trying to keep yourself from falling over. There was a raging inferno within your body, and you felt like you were overheating. An arousing sensation arose in your abdomen. You quickly realized that this was no knock-out drug. At least not to you.

Dottore curiously moved so that he was face-to-face with you. He looked at the syringe in his hand to reconfirm the content that was once in it. He knew there was nothing wrong with it (after all, what use would having an aphrodisiac be?), so it was interesting to see the difference compared to his expected result and the current outcome. Your hands futilely tried to tug down your shirt now that he could see everything clearly since he was so close up, but you accidentally pressed them onto your aching cock, forcing a moan from your lips.

“Hm. This wasn’t what I expected.” He placed a hand on his chin as he began to circle you, inspecting your body. You were the one with the features of a predator, although you certainly felt like prey under his watchful gaze. You continued to display fear, as shown by your ears and tucked tails even though you so desperately tried to hide the lust that effortlessly overpowered your senses. He enjoyed seeing you this way.

He suddenly kicked your knees out from under you, forcing you to kneel as a pained expression briefly overcame your face. You had to hold back a groan when his hand found its way into your hair, fingers tightly curling around the strands to tug you around. He made you look up at him as he dug the sole of his foot onto your sensitive dick. You choked on a moan and ground your nails into his leg, weakly trying to pull him off of you.

“Aren’t you a pathetic little thing?” He pushed his foot harder, relishing in the noises you tried hard to keep from releasing. Shame squeezed your chest, making it difficult to breathe. But your mind was caught in a messy haze of arousal, confusion, anger, and fear. Each of their components only coerced you further into a stupified state, and you soon took the appearance of a babbling slut. You were fleetingly aware of the mortification when you began rutting your hips into the hard surface of his boot – just like the mutt in heat you were – but you’d be lying greatly if you said it didn’t feel relieving.

Your desperation only served to arouse Dottore as he felt his cock harden in his pants. He smiled, memorizing how quickly you were reduced into nothing but teary-eyed and stupid. Lightly palming himself, he thought of all the time he had left to spare. He might as well use some of it now.

You stifled a sob when he removed his foot, grunting when he kicked you onto your back. You were a bit disoriented due to the sudden change in positions, but as the fresh air of the night caressed the burning skin of your legs, an alarm rang through your head. It took you a moment to realize what he was about to do. Out of reflex, you attempted to sit up to try and stop him before he harshly pushed you back down from your chest.

“Fighting it will only make it worse,” he said, lining his cockhead against your asshole after spitting on it. “Relax, will you?”

“Wha–No…No..!”

You raised one of your feet in a last ditch effort to kick him away, but he simply held onto the underside of your knee and hiked it up on his shoulder. You squirmed futilely as he did the same to the other one, keeping you in place with a mating press. Now that he was finally towering over you, he used most of his body weight to force his cock deep into your hole.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the pure agony that came with it. With his hands occupied with pinning your arms down, he had the audacity to place his lips over yours to silence your scream. You struggled to free yourself from his grasp, though the tense of your body made you tighten around him. He let out a satisfied, shuddering sigh.

It felt like he tore you apart, a burning sensation that originated from your hole reverberated throughout your body, pulsing in rhythmic waves. You hiccuped pathetically as he pulled off of you, taking away some of the strain in your legs. He noticed that the slide out was smoother than he expected, peering down to where the two of you connected. His cock throbbed fervently when he noticed that it was coated in your blood.

You bit your lip hard when he leisurely thrusted back into you. Tears rolled off of the sides of your face as you turned away from him.

A sensation akin to electricity traveled up and down his spine. “Oh, don’t cry yet. We’ve only just begun.”

He finally began his pace, irritating whatever he tore, and using you however he liked. The pain was dizzying. He refused to allow you a moment of respite as he wallowed within your agonized whimpers and grunts, thrusting hard enough to fuck the air out of your lungs. Your lower half was on fire from the tearing, the muscle strain, and the sting when his pelvis slammed against your ass. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to walk after this.

You were terrified to feel the familiar feeling of lust pooling in your gut, mixing in with the burn in your asshole. Though the drug was still hard at work, amplifying your arousal far more than you would’ve liked. Your cock weeped precum, to which Dottore gathered on his fingertips after releasing one of your numb arms.

“Look at how much you want this.” His hand was shaky on account of his relentless thrusts, but despite that, you were given a clear view of your shame. “Perhaps you were made to be my whore instead, hm?”

He groaned. “Instead of staying here for something so… ngh – insignificant. You’ll be much better off as my cum-dumpster ready to serve me at a minute’s notice. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

You shook your head, sobbing slurred ‘no’s’ and pleading for something, anything, just not that. He almost couldn’t believe how intensely he’s getting off to such a sight, and he decided, at that moment, that you were going to be his new pet. His good little dog.

He suddenly leaned backwards a bit, avoiding the sloppy attack you made.

Though, he was going to have to train you first.

You were aiming for his neck, so it’s only fair he gets to return the favor, right?

Your eyes widened when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, holding you so tightly your head began to ring almost instantly. You felt like you were going to pass out. You could feel your eyes roll back under your eyelids as drool escaped the corners of your mouth. Everything began to sound muffled when you were suddenly forced back into reality.

Agony shot through your face as your head was abruptly tossed to the side. He had slapped you. Fresh tears cascaded down your cheeks, trying hard to process everything that you were feeling. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure… which was it?

You unknowingly shivered when Dottore pulled out of you, but you knew better than to assume he was finished with you. He flipped you onto your stomach, a small smirk present when you didn’t put up a fight. You were far too disoriented to do so. A wince crossed your face when the cold concrete floor touched your cock, although you made no move to adjust yourself.

He placed you on your hands and knees, manipulating your body so easily you could’ve been mistaken for a fuck doll. He pushed the tip of his dick inside your throbbing hole before separating your tails in half, taking three in one hand and two in the other. Your fur may have been thick, but it was nothing a (very) tight squeeze couldn’t handle. Once he found his grip, he yanked you backward as he thrusted forward, a loud slap echoing throughout the forest. The tip of his cock pressed against your prostate, and you couldn’t help but let out your loudest moan of the night.

His pace was as punishing as before, fucking you hard enough to make your ass burn. You tried your hardest to quiet your moans with a bite of your lip and a cover of your hand, but not even that was enough to silence your noises. The ache in your tails prompted you to fuck yourself back on his cock. He let out a small grin, though he decided against commenting on it when he noticed something moving in his peripheral.

It was only a moment later when your ears shot up and swiveled in the figure’s direction, eyes widening when you saw who it was. “G-Go… ah – go home..!”

“Oh, don’t make them leave now, they’ve only just arrived.” You barely registered the firm hand on your thigh. “Let’s give them a show.”

Your back was suddenly pressed up against his chest as the thigh he was holding was held up high enough for the person to see. The new angle allowed him to target your prostate with more accuracy, fanning the uncontrollable flame in your abdomen. You shook your head – to Dottore or the person, not even you were sure of. You weakly held onto his wrist when he reached around your body to jerk you off, digging your nails into his glove.

You tried your hardest to stop yourself from orgasming, you really did, but it persisted twice as intense until you were no longer able to hold it. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as cum spurt out of your cock, back arching against him. You could’ve sworn you blacked out for a second. You tightened even further around him as he finally stilled, feeling uncomfortably warm as he came inside you with a deep groan. He held your thigh so tightly you were sure you’d have bruises.

You looked back over to the spot the person was at, but was relieved to know that they no longer stood there. The leg keeping you up burned in exhaustion from holding nearly all of your weight. You trembled due to your overwhelming emotions; shame, arousal, fear, anger, confusion, exhaustion.

You stared ahead, unmoving as he pulled out of you. You rested on your folded legs, head throbbing painfully. You winced when he yanked you to him by your hair, keeping you on your knees as you faced his softening cock.

“Good pets know to clean up their messes,” he said, relaxing his grip on you, but refusing to move his hand elsewhere. You swallowed nervously before reluctantly holding onto the base to place him in your mouth. “Though, bite me, and I’ll do more than just simply tearing out your teeth.”

You nodded. He smiled to himself. Good, he was getting somewhere with you.

An urge to hide away formed in your mind, but you willed it away with the fact that he wasn’t going to let you go. Not unless some miracle saved you. You ran your tongue over his cock, licking away the remnants of his cum and your blood. The salty, metallic taste raised goosebumps all over your body, and you had to stop yourself from throwing up.

Though, just as you got to the head, he suddenly grabbed you by the ears and pulled. You choked and gagged, completely caught off guard. He kept you there, watching amusedly as you drooled and sputtered over his dick. It wasn’t until he could feel your grip on his legs weakening did he allow you to push yourself off of him, coughing hard.

He composed himself while you had your fit, crossing his arms expectantly when you finally caught your breath.

“Hurry and fix your clothes. We’ll head towards the area I’m temporarily staying at where you’ll wait until the ship to Snezhnaya arrives.” You wiped your teary eyes and put the bottom half of your clothes back on. Your legs trembled as you got up, only able to take a few weak steps forward before you fell to your knees.

He sighed and swiftly made his way over to you, grabbing you by the arm to carry you bridle style. Everything hurt now that the entire ordeal was over (at the moment), and you watched with saddened eyes as the statue gradually shrunk the farther away you went. You blinked hard. You didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms, but the feeling was far too strong for you to resist. With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes and let your slumber take you.

cross posted on ao3

#il dottore #genshin impact #male reader insert #x male reader #male reader smut #dottore x male reader #dottore x reader #reader #reader insert #dottore x reader smut #reader smut #genshin impact smut #cw noncon #fox reader #sub reader #bottom reader

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thelov3lybookworm · 4 months

Note

Hi! Omg I loved reading your Rhys x reader secret pregnancy fic! May I please request a Lucien x reader where he’s been cursed to stay in the form of an actual fox and the then reader comes along to break his curse? Thank you!!

Cursed

Summary: The mother liked being cruel to Lucien. First she had him lose his eye, and now his body.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: mention of being a child of forced intimate relation, other than that, I'm not sure there is more, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: my love, my heart, my baby anon. come here so i can sing you to sleep and cuddle with you because holyyyy shit i love this idea aaaahhhhh. (i am ready to be your tumblr wifey)

also, the beginning is basically our Y/n trauma/info dumping

anyways, enjoy!

(I had fun talking to you about this @artists-ally)

•○🌑○•

A twig snapped behind Y/n, and she rolled her eyes in frustration.

After wondering for a moment if she should ignore the animal, she decided to turn to look.

There, next to a mighty tree, crouched the fox. Abnormally large, fluffier than a normal fox, it had been following Y/n around for the better part of the week.

The moment Y/n met the fox's mismatched eyes, it tensed, as if ready to bolt. But then, after a moment, it relaxed, again staring at Y/n curiously.

The problem wasn't the fact that it was a fox. No, there were plenty of foxes in the forest near Y/n's home. But those foxes didn't follow her around or sit outside her door at all hours.

This one did all of that.

She wouldn't have been much bothered if it had been a normal fox following her around. But this one had a weird aura about it, like it was not an ordinary fox.

The fox suddenly moved, slowly prowling towards Y/n. She watched it, its body moving and navigating through the roots and fallen branches graciously, as if it were an elegant lady in the royal court.

Y/n shook her head, turning away and continuing on her journey to the cluster of trees deep into the forest to collect some fruit for herself.

The fox fell in step beside her.

She did her best to ignore the animal, though its unnatural aura kept her glancing at it.

Unfortunately, it also had her distracted, and she almost didn't pull up the hood of her cloak when a mortal man walked into view, carrying a bunch of firewood on his back.

But thank the forgotten gods, the man was too busy grumbling to himself to notice the pointed tips of her ears before she covered them.

Being a half fae was hard when living among mortals.

She could get killed if anyone found out about her heritage, and that was the only real reason she had for living on the outskirts of the small town, right next to where the forest started and away from the mortals.

And honestly, she cursed whoever the bastard was that had raped her mother and sired her for the inconvenience.

But she couldn't go down that path of thought, because if she did, she would just end up on the same thought that had her staying up at night and bawling her eyes out.

She was lonely.

It had nothing to do with the solitude of her house. No. It was because she was a half fae, and while other girls her age would mingle with other young men or whoever caught their fancy, she could not do so for fear of being killed.

She also had no family, her mother having died when Y/n was still young. Y/n had no siblings or relatives who could have taken her in, and so, she had learned to take care of herself.

She had also early on learned that the world didn't take kindly to people that were even remotely different from their perception of normal.

Especially beings who had a reputation to torture innocent souls for fun.

Y/n could not blame mortals for hating fae, as she herself hated them, though for completely different reasons.

It was not the best experience when you were scorned by the people you were a part of.

Hated by mortals for being a product of human-fae union, and hated by fae for being a half breed.

She sighed, shooing those thoughts away as she reached the cluster of trees she had been on the journey to, and set down her basket for a moment, stretching.

The fox settled down under an apple tree, and simply stared at Y/n as she went about plucking different fruits and berries and piling them in her basket.

Once she was done, she turned to glance at the fox, who sat unnaturally still.

She thought for a moment, then picked out a juicy apple from her basket. "You want one?"

The fox kept staring at her, and Y/n felt silly for trying to communicate with a fox. She huffed, putting the apple back in her basket and beginning to make the journey back to her little cottage.

•○🌑○•

"Do you think it will storm?"

The fox cocked its head, staring up at the sky before making a small noise, which Y/n took as affirmation.

"I think so too."

While a month ago Y/n would have laughed at herself for talking to -trying to talk to- an animal, now it had become normal. The darn fox never left her side nowadays, and Y/n had grown fond of him, letting him into her house and keeping him fed and warm. She had even named him Rusty.

Rusty glanced at Y/n before it settled down, laying his head on her lap, snuggling into the soft and fluffy material of her thick leggings.

A small smile made its way onto Y/n's face, and her hand lifted of its own accord, burying itself into the fur on the top of his head.

Y/n still remembered how she had felt uncomfortable around the fox because of the unnatural aura it gave off, but she had gotten used to it. Now, it was a companion who Y/n simply adored.

A long moment passed, and Y/n was not entirely sure it wasn't hours, but the sky darkened just a fraction.

Y/n glanced up in confusion, because she was sure it had been brighter just a moment before. Suddenly, the warmth in her lap vanished, and Y/n's head snapped down, her brows furrowed.

Rusty was no longer next to Y/n. He was across the clearing, and Y/n could not fathom how he had crossed the vast area so quickly. Her suspicions about him grew, and she realized his body was beginning to shake.

Y/n quickly rolled to her feet, her eyes growing wide when he began spasming, a tortured whine escaping him. She could do nothing but stare as his paws dug into the soft ground, pain filled sounds continuing to rip from him.

The moment Y/n stepped forward, hoping to do something to help Rusty, his head snapped up, a low growl he emitted leaving her frozen in place. And his eyes...

They were glowing.

Unnatural, completely otherworldly brightness radiated from him, his aura becoming ten times different from what it had been.

Y/n watched, her blood chilling, as he continued to struggle until the smell of something burnt reach Y/n.

Everything stilled after that, and Rusty collapsed, breaths heaving out of him.

And, the place where his paws had been, was nothing but burnt remains of the leaves fallen from the trees

Y/n studied the fox until he had gained enough strength to stand again, and his eyes stared back at Y/n.

She swallowed as the fox prowled closer. "You are not a real fox, are you?"

Rusty swung his head from side to side, his eyes boring into Y/n.

She nodded, wondering why she was even surprised. "Are you fae?"

His head dipped.

Y/n dragged her palms down her face, trying not to lose her shit.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

He cocked his head, as if questioning her how he was supposed to answer.

She released a frustrated breath, going through all the reasons why a shapeshifter would follow her around.

She could only find one reasonable reason.

"Have you... have you been cursed?"

The fox dipped his head slowly, and Y/n took a step back, horrified.

"And you are here because you... what? Want me to break you free?"

The fox whined, taking a step forward.

"No." She stepped back again, continuing until her back hit a tree. "Fuck. No. I will not be used and discarded by you too. I will not..."

The sadness in the fox's -Rusty's -eyes nearly brought Y/n to her knees, but the fox simply dipped its head again after a moment, turning and prowling away from the clearing and, in turn, Y/n.

She watched him go, his shoulders curved inwards, looking defeated.

And, despite her instincts telling her to go behind him, she turned away too, walking in the opposite direction, towards her small hut.

•○🌑○•

The windows shook, their sound a little too loud in the small home, and Y/n's fingers curled tighter on the book, the pages crinkling under her fingers.

Thunder cracked somewhere, and Y/n flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. With a sigh, she put her book away, tugging her blanket closer for warmth. She turned to look out the window, where it was completely dark, not one tree visible.

And, despite her attempts at trying to ignore her worries about Rusty, she could not help but wonder where he was.

Was he somewhere in the forest, getting soaked by the rain, shivering?

Was he wandering around hopelessly, hoping someone took pity on him?

Y/n shook her head, telling herself she did not care.

But of course, she did.

Since the moment she had turned away from his retreating form, she had not been able to think about anything but him.

Y/n had never had anyone that particularly cared about her, so having even a damned fox use her for his own gain cut something deep in her heart.

But then a thought occurred to her, and all her feelings of betrayal were forgotten.

What if it is a child?

Or what if it is just like me, never had anyone who cared?

What if he gets incinerated in the storm by lightning?

Oh fuck it.

The second to last thought was what snapped Y/n's restraint, and she grabbed her cloak, lit a lantern, and set off to find her Rusty.

•○🌑○•

The rain made it even harder to see in the night, but Y/n soldiered on, determined to rescue the damsel in distress. Though the damsel was a male and could probably not be in distress.

He could have found a cave to snooze in, and Y/n was setting herself up to be sick for nothing.

Her heart didn't seem to care for that judging by the way it was screeching in her ears.

A flash of light caught Y/n's eyes, and she stilled, lifting her lantern higher, hoping she had finally found the sneaky bastard.

It was just a piece of glass, and Y/n cursed whoever had thrown it here.

After a long time of searching, Y/n spied a gap in the trees, knowing it led to a small cliff. Her instincts told her to follow the trail, and she decided trusting her heart was the better option than trusting her brain.

She had decided to ignore her heart in that clearing, and now she was stuck in a storm.

Lightning brightened the world for a moment, and Y/n lifted her hand to shield herself as she reached the cliff.

Unfortunately, Rusty was not there as well.

Frustrated, Y/n sighed, turning away from the drop.

And then she paused, her eyes landing on a bush.

Under which lay Rusty, shivering and curled in on himself.

Guilt spread through Y/n, and she stepped closer with caution.

His eyes flew open, his teeth bared as he searched around for a predator.

His eyes widened when he realised it was Y/n who stood in front of him now, and he ducked his head, as if ashamed.

Y/n walked forward, and watched as his shoulders curved inwards, trying to make himself small.

She crouched, extending her hands towards him, and he stared at it for a moment, then at Y/n before taking a tentative step closer, gaining more confidence when her hand remained unwavering. He stopped a few with his face a few inches away from her hand, and she reached out to pet his nose.

"Come," she whispered, "let's go home."

He stared at her for a moment longer, and Y/n felt like there were tears in his eyes, but she couldn't be sure because it could very well be rain water.

Navigating the forest to return home was much easier and faster than it had been searching for Rusty, and Y/n was glad about that, as she could think of nothing but changing into warm clothes and getting warmed in front of her fireplace now that she had finally found Rusty. Also, she had to wash Rusty and feed him. It had been long since he had left and Y/n doubted that he had eaten anything.

As soon as Y/n stepped foot inside her home, she shucked off her cloak, setting down her lantern and turning to find that Rusty still hadn't crossed the threshold.

"Come on in, Rusty."

She beckoned to him, and he trotted in, shaking his head to get rid of the water.

"Let's get you into a warm bath first."

Y/n hurried into the bathing room and turned on the faucets, letting the tub fill with warm water. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced back to see Rusty sitting patiently by the door, like a gentleman. Y/n smiled.

"Get in." She told him when the water had filled to the point she knew he liked. "I will go and get changed, and you get yourself cleaned up until then. We can have food after."

At the last part, his head snapped up, his eyes wide. But then he jumped into the tub, and Y/n was left to wonder why he seemed so shocked.

•○🌑○•

Y/n wrapped the tiny towel around Rusty, giggling at how funny he looked before she placed the red coloured bowl in front of Rusty, his favourite.

She stared at him as he began eating, and stared, and stared.

The air changed the moment he took his first bite, growing thicker and heavier with every moment that passed.

Confused, Y/n glanced behind her, and when she turned back to rusty, she let out a small scream.

In the place that Rusty had been occupying, sat a man... naked.

Y/n had never climbed to her feet so quick in her whole life as she did then, covering her eyes. But then she peeked out from between her fingers, seeing him blushing furiously while trying to cover up his private parts with the tiny towel. It was barely enough to cover up his chest, so he had to hold it with both hands like a curtain in front of his hips.

"Who the hell are you?" Y/n screeched.

She noticed now that he had hair like liquid flame, his eyes were mismatched, and he was... fae.

Realisation washed through Y/n.

"You- You're Rusty."

He grimaced. "Yeah, though I am a little concerned with that name. Can we please not use that? Like, Rusty? Really?"

Y/n let her hands fall to her side, settling on her hips. "You bastard, you should be grateful I let you stay and gave you a name. Imagine how weird it would have been in if I called you fox."

"Yeah, I think that would have been better than Rusty."

Y/n scoffed. After a moment, she spoke again, struggling hard to keep her gaze on his. She deserved a fucking medal for it.

"So... what was your curse? And who had so much free time to put one on you?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Don't you think this is kind of inappropriate to talk about while I'm naked?"

Y/n rolled her eyes as she moved past him, walking into her bedroom. "You never had a problem before when you pranced about, wooing all the female foxes."

She was now sure he was grinning when he replied. "Yeah well, they didn't wear any clothes either. If you were to strip..."

Y/n whipped around from where she was rummaging in her closet for something to gape at him. He grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his hands folded against his chest.

That meant-

Y/n turned away from him just as fast as she had turned to him, and no matter how much she denied it, the image of him... it would be forever embedded in her mind.

"Asshole." She mumbled under her breath, her hand landing on a piece of clothing she was unfamiliar with.

It was a pant she had stolen years ago, and later realised it had been too big for her. It would have to do.

Without turning, Y/n threw the pants over her shoulder, and by the lack of sound, knew Rusty had caught it.

It was a few moment before he hummed, letting her know he was done, and Y/n turned, her mouth going dry at all the muscle displayed.

She hadn't had the time to appreciate what she saw before, as she was trying not to make a fool of herself by staring at his privates, but now that he was covered from the waist down, she could not help but stare at what she could see.

"Like what you see?"

Y/n's eyes flashed up, colour staining her cheeks as she huffed.

"Of course not. You are still Rusty for me, and I'd never think of someone called Rusty as anything I like."

He scoffed. "Please, my name is Lucien. I'd appreciate it if you stop referring to me as Rusty."

She lifted her chin defiantly. "No."

He sighed. "Very well, my lady. If that is what you wish for. After all, you broke my curse, I can't really order you around anymore."

"Yes, about that curse. Care to elaborate now that you are appropriate?"

He nodded, a seriousness coming over him. He followed her as she led him back out, settling down in front of the fireplace as she boiled some water for tea.

Once the tea was ready, Y/n passed one cup to Rusty- Lucien- and studied him, watching as he fumbled a little with the cup before he got a good grip on it.

"Let's start from the beginning." She nodded her head for him to continue. "Do you remember the most recent war that happened?"

She nodded. The destruction had been immense, according to what she had heard through rumours, but she lived far enough away from the wall that no harm reached her.

"There was a continent called Hybern. One of my closest friends was pretending to aid Hybern so he could gather intel about the kingdom's and the king's inner workings so he could help Prythian when the inevitable war came. Soldiers from Hybern had stolen the cauldron from its resting place in Prythian, and they knew that it could make anyone young and immortal."

"What is the cauldron?"

Lucien glanced at Y/n with raised brows, but explained to her what the cauldron was, who the mother was, and all the things that probably didn't matter to the story just because she didn't know about them.

A power like that? People would kill for it. Y/n thought.

"My friend's past lover, who had been mated to another high lord, arrived in Hybern, and realised her sisters had been kidnapped. The king ordered the sisters to be put into the cauldron. One of them turned out to be my... mate."

The jealousy that ripped through Y/n was unmatched from anything she had ever felt. And for what? The mention of someone she did not even know? Ridiculous.

"The older one, she apparently took something from the cauldron, in turn making the cauldron take away the youth from the human queen put in after her. The queen was furious, and she allied with a powerful death sorcerer."

"He found out about my... relationship with one of the sisters, and before we killed him, put a curse on me, because I was standing the closest to him. He turned me into a fox, and I could only be turned back if someone who loathed fae gave me shelter and food, even after knowing I was fae."

"Powerful death sorcerer, and all he could think of for his last breath was to turn you into a fox." Y/n muttered under her breath.

A breathy laugh escaped Lucien, which then full on turned into howls of laughter.

"So, what, your mate could not help?"

"She probably could have, given she couldn't bear being near me, but she wouldn't have. Me being a fox gave her freedom to pursue whomever she wished."

Y/n sighed. "Is everyone from the other side of the wall dumb?"

He shook his head, staring into the embers of the fire, though a smile remained on his mouth. Y/n glanced out the window, realising the sun was starting to rise.

"We should probably get some sleep."

Lucien followed her gaze to out the window, and he nodded.

"I will take the couch, you should sleep on your bed."

"Nonsense. You have been invading my space for the past month like your life depends on it. It won't be a big deal if you sleep next to me."

"Sleep next to you, not with you?"

"You know what? You can sleep on the porch."

He laughed, standing and pulling Y/n to her feet.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"Thank you."

Y/n blushed, shaking her head.

"I will leave as soon as I can."

Hurt pierced Y/n's heart like a bolt from hell. "Why?"

His brows furrowed. "Why? I have taken enough advantage of you. I don't want to impose."

She shook her head again. "I like when you impose."

He smiled.

"If you say so."

•○🌑○•

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