#but now i gotta render the whole damn thing
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I know I say a lot of my art gets out of hand but I'm dead fucking serious this time
#my wips#nsft#i started rendering her face before i even finished the linework#dunno what fuckin possessed me#but now i gotta render the whole damn thing
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Pussydrunk!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Cockdrunk!Fem!Reader
Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader
Summary: Simon comes home from deployment, hungry to have his pretty girl all to himself. Things get heated quick and before long you are both drunk off the feeling of the other. From this ask here.
Word Count: 5.4 k
Warnings:
The moment those heavy boots hit the threshold of the apartment, brown eyes are searching for you as Simon’s heart pounds in his ears the same as it had the entire drive over. He’s been gnawing at the bit since even before he returned to base a day ago, aching to get back to the gorgeous being living in his flat. The last month of his deployment he’s been on edge, counting down the days in agonizing fashion as the craving growing in the pit of his stomach gets worse and worse. Fuck, he’s missing you - all of you - something fierce.
Simon has missed those sweet moans of yours, the way you make his name sound so perfect through the stuttered gasps as you reach that level of incoherence that renders you completely useless; he has missed all the ways your body moves against and underneath him, writhing and back arching as his larger form overwhelms you; he has missed the way you fuck him, body begging for more even as you struggle to fit him all in and how beautiful it is to be inside you.
It is enough to drive the man insane.
From the bedroom you can hear the door opening and closing and rush to the living room as quick as your legs can move, carried by giddy nerves to see your lover again after so long. You knew he was meant to be in today, but not the time and so you’ve been on edge waiting and listening; as soon as you see him a deepening ache situates itself in your chest.
Simon clocks you as you come into the living room and he can’t find enough air to fill his lungs; by the way your cheeks instantly glow with warmth and your eyes sparkle he’s sure you are feeling the same tension fill the air around you the moment you two are in sight of one another. You are the one to close the distance as Simon’s limbs feel too heavy to move at first, blood being drawn to other places along his body that need it more now that he is near to the object of his desire.
“Hey there stranger,” you smile up into those familiar balaclava- clad features as your heartbeat steadily becomes more erratic from your body flooding with that desperate longing to be against him once again. It is always the same: when you two are apart for long periods when he has to be away the moment you are in front of one another again it is like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. “Long time no see.”
He stares back down at you, light chocolate eyes taking in the face he hasn’t seen properly in too damn long. “Well ‘ello there yerself, pretty girl,” he returns, gravely tone sending chills down your spine as he drops the gear on his shoulder to the floor so that he has free range of motion to cup his calloused hand along your soft, delicate cheek. “It’s been a hot fuckin’ minute. Did ya miss me, luv?”
Before his brain can register what’s happening he senses something brush up against him in the small space still between your bodies and as his eyes travel down he sees that your hand is grabbing at his belt buckle, silky digits lacing themselves around the metal clasp. His eyes jump back up to yours instantly.
You aren’t wasting any time, are you? Fucking hell.
“Missed you a whole fucking lot, Simon,” you say under your breath as you give his belt a firm tug forward so that he has to take a step into you. Your thighs are already being rubbed together where you stand; it’s instant the way he can turn you on just by his presence alone. “Didn’t know when you’d be in; been waiting as patiently as I could, but I gotta say it hasn’t been easy. Got my nerves all flustered. How about you? Are you flustered, baby?”
You just have to do it, don’t you? That one damned gesture that always sends him reeling.
It isn’t a secret how the time apart makes him pine for you as if he is a man dying of thirst: for those hot, breathless moments spent between your thighs, for the way your bodies seem created only for the other, for the intense sensations of euphoria that only you can give him. So when your fingers hook into his belt to pull him in closer, you know what effect it will have on making him crumble, don’t you?
Eight months is far too fucking long not to have any piece of you and any little touch would have done the trick to do him in, but you know the exact combination that will have him throwing you on your back in a heartbeat. He is a man starved of his addiction and it’s about goddamn time he had another hit. As you tug at the leather with a smirk across your lips, doe-eyed stare not so innocent anymore, all that yearning that had been bubbling right under the calm surface of those autumn-colored eyes for eight long, agonizing months explodes with force.
No words, not a goddamn sound as that skull mask is ripped up off of Simon’s face in a flash quicker than your eyes can catch. Your body is moved by two strong arms more than capable of manhandling those curves with ease and find yourself slammed into the wall while he clasps your chin securely in his grip so that hungry lips can scramble to aggressively capture your own. While your lips dance, his free hand roams up under your clothes to grab ahold of any piece of available flesh as all that pent up desire surges through his veins like liquid fire. His fingertips tremble as they brush across all that soft, balmy skin along your abdomen and around your hips, making him produce a guttural moan into your open mouth that you are forced to swallow down.
That huge, hulking body of his with its prominent muscles bulging everywhere even through his clothing overwhelms your own as he pins you harder against the wall while his grip descends to around your ass so that he can bring your hips forward, clothed pelvis rutting into you to catch any extra bit of friction he can as that tenting at the crotch of his pants swells the longer he grinds against you. His mouth is insatiable, stealing sloppy, frantic kisses one after another until your lips burn from the abrasion… and yet you still aren’t satisfied.
Simon feels your nipples through your t-shirt stiffening as his chest rubs against them, a reminder to his numbing brain that there is even more of a feast for him waiting just beneath your clothes if he can just get them off you; the couple of nudes he keeps in his phone that you send him while he’s away are only a pale comparison to the real fucking thing and he’s been dying see it in person.
You’re close to one another, but not fucking close enough.
He needs skin on skin, curves molded into curves, cock buried in you deep. That’s the crux of it all - he needs to be reminded of what you feel like wrapped around him, lose his mind as your cunt gives him the sensation he can get nowhere else from no one else. It consumes him in that moment until his thoughts are filled with nothing but the oncoming ecstasy that will soon be his.
Feverish fingers slip themselves into the waistband at the back of your pants as he continues to rut against you, the few layers of fabric between you about to be reduced as he shoves down taking your pants over the arch of your ass until they fall around your ankles and you can step out of them. Your own fingers are already undoing the buckle of his belt before your clothes can hit the floor; thank fuck that Simon likes to keep his wardrobe uncomplicated when on leave.
“Christ, I’m so fuckin’ hard for ya, sweetheart,” he breathes the heated, desperate words against your raw lips as hips continue to grind on you and make your work that much more difficult, “it’s been hell being away for so long. I’ve been fuckin’ starved, baby. That sweet little pussy of yours is callin’ my fuckin’ name. I need it, I need ya…fuckin’ can’t wait another goddamn second.”
The muscles along his abdomen tense through his shirt as you brush against them until finally his belt comes loose and you can move onto the button securing his pants. You finish undoing everything just in time for him to tear that fucking shirt clean off your top half before doing exactly the same to his own.
The middle of his chest is flushed pink and hastily you lean in to press your lips to it, through the tingle against your mouth from tiny hairs brushing over the delicate skin you can feel he is so warm it’s like he’s heated from the inside out. That broad chest heaves up and down heavily with the weight of his lust-filled breaths as you dot tender pecks along the center before he can’t take anymore and picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, and hurriedly drags you off to the bedroom hungry and ready to indulge.
“That’s it,” Simon says in that brash tone that lets you know he’s reached his limit. “Can’t take this ache ‘nother goddamn second. You and that sweet thing between your legs are mine now.”
He’s able to make it across the apartment in no time and throws open the bedroom door so that it hits the wall behind it with a booming thud as he stalks to the bed and sets you down on the surface, making sure to remove the pants hanging loosely around his hips as quick as he can along with his boxers. The moment he’s free of the clothing binding him that thick, meaty appendage springs to life, bobbing at attention as the vein along it pulses, and your breath hitches as your eyes are drawn to it; he’s not the only one who’s hungry and its been a hot fucking minute since you’ve laid eyes on all he has to offer.
You barely have time to scramble up towards the pillows at the head of the bed before he is crawling up towards you, a predator’s gaze making his iris’ flash and sparkle with an internal fire in the scant bit of light from the bedside lamp that illuminates the room.
Simon’s shoulder muscles tense as he moves on all fours until he’s over you, his cock dangling down as he gets between your legs so that it drags over the petals of your pussy. You can feel it throb as it becomes even more engorged with blood at the stimulation and it makes your mouth salivate. A strained grunt echoes through his closed lips as the tip grazes over that silky, heated skin between your thighs; he’s already vibrating with pleasure… what the fuck is gonna happen when he gets inside?
Only one way to find out…
Simon pulls your legs up high around his waist, wide torso keeping you nice and spread for him. You claw at his shoulder blades with your nails as you shove your hips into him, body practically begging for him to get inside already. Screw any foreplay, you can’t afford to wait and let this frantic moment slip by. There is only one thing you want in you and it is already throbbing at its destination.
“Fuck, please Simon, just get inside me,” your plea sends a shiver down his spine. “I don’t want to fucking wait…waited long enough.”
Spitting into his hand he applies the moisture to your entrance, lubricating the opening with hard presses of his fingertips along your cunt to help get things moving in the right direction. “Been a while, baby,” he returns as he aligns the tip and presses it against you while trying not to fall apart at the seams, “ya sure ya can still fuckin’ take it all?”
You nod aggressively, the need to be filled out by him overwhelming your every sense. You’ve waited patiently all this time, chomping at the bit for him to get back to you and now that he is here between your legs it’s all you can think about. “Give it to me,” you demand. “I need it baby, please, I’m aching something terrible. I need to feel you inside me again.”
How could he ever deny a request like that from you?
The world falls away as the tip slips through the threshold of your body and inside and he has to stop as just the head alone stretching you wide sends him spiraling. Your back arches off of the bed as you squirm under him, mouth falling open with half-formed moans that get caught in the back of your throat as the tight space is beginning to fill. Simon shudders with ecstasy, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth to bite down in hopes that the sharp pain will force him to stay sane.
Another thrust shoves him in a bit more so that now he’s more than halfway there, but still has just a bit to go. Your body doesn’t stand a chance as you lay under him at his mercy. His fingernails graze your waist as his hands hold on tight; he has to fit it in, get to the base, completely surround himself within you. Taking a deep breath he gathers another burst of energy to thrust all the way until he bottoms out and you release a cry into the silence of the room.
“Goddamn ya feel so fuckin’ good princess, like a goddamn dream,” he gasps out as his head snaps down against your chest. “Pretty girl, my pretty fuckin’ girl, wanna keep ya fuckin’ full ‘a me all the time.”
Simon’s brain is quickly becoming mush as the warmness and growing wetness of your pussy makes his large form quiver at the bliss. You are no better, sanity slipping away as his hefty cock practically molds your walls to his specific shape as it rests inside. Hips begin to rock and are immediately punctuated by a deep-throated groan with each snap as he settles into a steady rhythm.
Thrust after thrust each one harder than the last pushes your body until it is shoved up and your head hits the wall behind the bed. Simon’s nose nuzzles into your neck as feeble whimpers leave the confines of your mouth and pack his head full. “Missed your sounds too,” he says, amidst another thrust. “Keep this up and it’s gonna be my fuckin’ end, sweetheart.” Another strong thrust follows and then another.
A yearning need to see himself fuck your gorgeous body suddenly engulfs his mind and so he slow sits himself up on his knees, making sure to keep himself inside you, so that he can get the perfect birdseye view of the beautiful way your body takes him in. It’s perfection and he cannot help but become absorbed in watching as each thrust in and out makes his cock disappear inside that narrow passage only to slip back out covered in more of your juices with each pass.
Over and over his hips rock into you, the muscles along his abdomen clenching, fingertips digging into your sides to hold you still as his speed steadily increases the longer he goes. Your music fills his head, whimpers of pleasure as he strikes against your g-spot from the angle he’s positioned in, and that is the only thing that is floating in there now as everything else becomes a blur.
The stoic and collected military officer is reduced to a glorious mess the longer he thrusts, drooling over you, going blind and delirious at the feeling of those tight, silky walls sucking him all in as they flutter around his cock. It’s been too long, too many nights spent alone without your company stuck half-way across the world with only his hand to keep him occupied when he can get a free moment, which those were few and far between. But nothing, nothing ever could compare to the feeling of you.
“Can’t get enough,” he stammers with a groan, so wrapped up in the moment that speech is near impossible to produce. “Fuckin’ desperate for ya, need more…need fuckin’ more…”
Simon is deep inside you and yet that ache is still monstrous, eating him alive so that anything outside of the ecstasy of your flesh is just fucking gone. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he’s obsessed with your body. It isn’t enough though, never enough. You have completely consumed him; he is under your spell and nothing can break the charm.
His head is spinning, thoughts vacant like he is wasted; fuck, he’s high off the sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Now that he is inside you, there is no way he can leave anytime soon. There’s no goddamn way he’s going to let either of you come yet, not after how long you two have gone without each other.
That hot coil tensing in the pit of his stomach pulls tighter and tighter, but he will not let it snap… not yet. No, he needs this to last as long as he physically can keep it up and so he knows what he has to do and with all his strength he does it; that once intense pounding slows down until he stops amongst your whimpered mewling.
“What’re you doing?” you stutter, hips desperately trying to buck against him, but he pins them down for a bit.
“Uh, uh,” he shakes his head, “don’t ya fuckin’ dare think you’re gonna come yet. Ya feel too fuckin’ good to let go of.”
Oh shit… You were in for it now, but just how much you could have never guessed.
“No…no, please… I need you to keep going,” you plead as your throat strains to release the words, water rimming the whites of your eyes. That consuming ache is so deep in your bones it threatens to devour you whole, causing you to rip at the very seams as it permeates every fiber of your being until your entire form is primed like an explosive ready to combust. You can’t breathe, you can’t fucking think; everything is focused on how much the feeling of him is consuming all of you like a fire burning through dry tinder.
A shuddering breath escapes his lips; even stopping doesn’t help much, your body just feels too good and so he has to at least rut carefully against it. “I know, baby, I know,” he groans as his fingers dig into your hip to now force you to grind your clit into the base of his shaft. “But ya want this to fuckin’ last, yeah? Ya don’t wanna be done with me just yet, do ya?”
That thick, veiny appendage lay inside you, its girth stretching out the walls of your cunt to capacity as it simply rests there throbbing with the beat of his rapid heart rate, stewing in the filthy mess of juices he’s already made between your legs. You choke on a whimper as the stimulation to your clit sends a shockwave through to your toes and you clench them together, gathering some of the sheets into their grip.
“No,” you shake your head wildly. “You just feel so fucking good, I can’t help it… feels so good… I just wanna keep feeling good with you, Simon.”
“I know, sweet girl,” he praises as he leans forward and presses his burning lips to the skin on your stomach, knowing that no matter what you would have said he wasn’t going to let you tap out yet; he needs your pussy like he needs air to survive. “It’s been too fuckin’ long since we’ve been able ta do this…need ta make up for all the lost time.”
Simon’s dreamt about this the entire time you’ve been apart; insatiable, desperate, carnal fantasies about fucking your tight hole to within an inch of your sanity, making you come so hard that you can’t move for hours after. His cock has been throbbing for months with nothing but his fucking hand to take the edge off as he pictures filling out every inch of your hole until there is nowhere left for his cock to go.
Another couple of minutes of simply breathing, grinding, and focusing on the way the skin of your torso is so soft against his lips and he’s far enough from that ledge that he wants to start thrusting full force again. He leans down and wraps his arms around your body and you take it as a sign that he’s going to start up again, only for him to roll you both until you are the one on top now. The movement is unexpected, but you are more than willing to go along with it if it means you can take control of your own pleasure.
As he situates himself under you, his hands roam up and down your sides while he takes a second to enjoy how you look perched over him: full tits directly in his face, hair cascading around your cheeks as you peer down into his face, eyes rolling back in your head every time a sensitive point gets stimulated. You are his fucking fantasy when you get on top.
“I wanna have ya ride me for a bit,” he breathes. “Show me how good ya ride it, pretty girl. Make my cock your toy.”
As long as he stays inside you, you’ll do whatever the hell he wants.
Placing your hands on his hard chest for support while his hand moves back to your hips, Simon guides you up and down until you are bouncing in rhythm to match his racing heartbeat. Harder and harder he shoves you forcefully down to get as deep into you as possible until you can feel bruises rising where his hands have a hold of you, yet that doesn’t matter at all as you can only comprehend the way his cock is rendering you too fucking dumb to think of anything else.
Pushing down against his chest you bob up and down on your knees as best as you can, trying to keep up with his relentless pace. He told you to use him, but all you want is for him to make you his living fleshlight as you are forced to take it all. Your movements start to get sloppy after a time as you can hardly keep yourself focused anymore with how good it feels and Simon takes notice, though he is ready with the solution.
His hips start to strike up into your pussy as even though he is beneath you he is more than capable of taking control, not wanting to move into a new position just yet. You whimper and whine with your mouth hung open as each percussive hit sends shockwaves of euphoria ripping through you just like you want. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss.
You can only sit and take every last delectable inch that he gives you as his massive girth stretches your walls with every thrust of his pelvis upward. The room fills with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as he works your hole as if this is the last chance he will ever get to fuck you and he needs to make it count.
Minute after minute, his full attention being focused solely on you, each stroke along that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves inside your core drives you increasingly closer to that razor’s edge and threatens to violently throw you off at any point without notice. He must be feeling it too, for again his thrusting slows until he is simply grinding against you once again and that building pressure falls away.
Over and over again this happens, Simon edging you both closer and closer before struggling to back off and changing positions in a constant rotation, each position just as mind-numbing as the last now that you are cockdrunk. You find yourself on your knees with your head shoved into the mattress and then on your side with him pressed up against your back, bouncing on top with his hand desperately cupping at your tits and then returning to where it all started on your back, all the while the constant humping during the calmer moments keeps you primed and yet just far enough off the edge that each new round keeps building towards that desperate end.
Goddamn his stamina is something of legend, but when he wants something bad enough he will make it work no matter how hard he must push himself. And right now he cannot get enough of you no matter how he tries.
Fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard you think you might pass out, the room so warm your hair sticks to the sides of your face, the scent of sex pungent with each ragged breath shared between your close mouths; every single sense overstimulated to the point of barely being able to process it all. You are perched on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, foreheads pressed together tight with eyes shut.
Simon leans in to kiss your raw mouth, but even the contact from your lips makes him gasp from the sensitivity. Your legs are shaking violently now as he’s slowed once more, every muscle pushed to its limit as he rocks his hips into you just because it feels too good to ever stop completely. Both of you are sparkling from head to toe, coated with the speckled dew of perspiration to match the absolute mess Simon has made between your legs.
Smooth thighs glisten with that warm, moist, natural lubrication of your cunt as it dribbles out of you and onto the sheets beneath to leave a noticeable dark spot on the bed that’s still warm to the touch. Simon’s mouth waters as the taste buds along his tongue prick to life at the sight, begging to savor all your sweet nectar, but he tells himself to not get ahead of things.
The rest of the night you are going to be his and he will get everything he wants of it all before the end.
Just like you, Simon is out of his goddamn mind with pleasure. The sensation consumes everything inside him until there is nothing left; the only way he can communicate is through breathy groans and staggered grunts as if he is only an animal now. He craves to be the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, the only goddamn thing you need. And that is when he knows that he cannot hold off another second.
Without warning he pulls out of you only briefly so that he can aggressively flip you over onto your back, getting into position by kneeling in front of you as he throws your legs onto his broad, sculpted shoulders before he grips your hips and instantly re-enters you. This is it, though he can’t barely speak, it’s gonna happen whether he is ready or not so he is going to be damned sure to make it go off with a fucking bang.
Again Simon picks up his desperate pace, his abs dripping with sweat as they contract and release after each desperate thrust. Those brown eyes close off to the rest of the world, just absorbing every last second of that mind-numbing goodness that he can before he blows.
“F-fuck, Simon...mmmm…” you whine your plea as you can feel that warmth rising harshly in the pit of your stomach, “p-please… d-d-don’t stop.”
Your mind is all static, so lost on Simon’s cock that you cannot stand it; it’s overwhelming in its intensity that you actually aren’t entirely sure you want to come yet. If you could just stay suspended in this moment forever, you’d die happy. All that edging has done its job just as intended though and with a few more strong thrusts of him deep in your core, that is it: like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your orgasm rips through you with such force you nearly bolt off the bed as your back arches and your hips buck harshly against him.
A roar is released from within his chest, his body writhing as he holds on to your waist for dear life while he milks his cock inside you, coating your walls in his cum until he has no more left in him to give. He sounds like a wild animal and it makes your body vibrate with exhilaration; you are the one to make him come with such force he is reduced to more basic instincts.
You fall back against the bed as your body shakes violently with the force of your orgasm. Never has such intense pleasure overwhelmed you so thoroughly that your limbs tremble uncontrollably before and though the exhaustion overtakes you, it is euphoric. Simon slowly slips himself out of your pussy as he sits back, his overstimulated cock twitching with sensitivity as he removes it from your tightness.
You whimper a little, instantly missing the feeling of him stretching you out and honestly wishing he would have just stayed inside even longer, but you know if you don’t have even a small break that you are not going to survive.
His strong hands hold your vibrating legs apart as he sits back on the mattress exhausted and a million miles away as he watches as his cum dribbles out of your pussy like honey; goddamn did he stuff you to the brim. All you can do is lay there with your eyes shut tight, heart thudding against your ribs as you focus all your remaining brain power on breathing. From your head to the tips of your toes you sparkle with perspiration as if you are decked out in diamonds that shimmer in the low light of the room.
“Christ Simon…gonna kill me,” you chuckle lightly as your mouth finally is able to do something other than hang open.
Eyes still closed, the sensation of his lips brushing against your inner thigh catches your attention. “Not…yet,” his low, gruff voice hits your ears from between your legs, accent heavy with his fatigue. Why did that sound like a promise?
Your mouth is already forming the question when it instantly dies on your tongue as you become aware of a firm grip from those strong hands spreading your legs open even further as his body slides off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor to sit on his knees with his face at optimal level with your pussy.
“Simon?” you ask hastily as you struggle up to your elbow to see those dark eyes peer up at you just over the mound of your sex.
The corner of his mouth is barely visible, but you can see it upturn. He may have come, but he is nowhere near finished yet. “Still fuckin’ hungry for ya,” he growls before descending down into the ecstasy of the space in between your thighs.
Simon just needs to buy time until he can get it up again…good thing his tongue is always ready to go. Sharp features are instantly soaked as he dives in without hesitation, the scent of your arousal instantly clinging to his cheeks and making his cock begin to twitch. His mouth is filled with a combination of both of your flavors as his tongue does what it does best: find your clit like a pleasure-seeking missile. He is ready to get completely lost in you all over again, this time with his first favorite activity and all you can do is hold on as he straps you to his face.
Let the feast on your pussy continue…it’s gonna be a long fucking while until he’s done with you.
Tagging: @llelannie @thicksexxualtension @cheolsblkwife @cum-tea-and-towels @sillylittlereader @mesyakee
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost mw2#cod mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simin ghost riley#simon smut#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#simon ghost smut#ghost smut
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i'm interested to hear about Porky for that character meme
First impression: The first time I saw Porky was in Smash Bros Brawl when I was like 12, and I was probably about as bamboozled as every other kid back then. I remember being creeped out and a little captivated, wondering what the hell could possibly be up with this rampaging kid / old man / ??? In some kind of life support mech??? Like damn these Mother games must be crazy. (Proceeded to emulate Pokemon instead for the next 6 years 🤸)
Impression now: Oh, I see! He was The Best Villain In All Of Media. That's what was up with him. He carved out a corner in the back of my brain where he's been living rent free for a decade. If I think too hard about him I go off the rails and sometimes become cataclysmically sad. Awesome.
Favorite moment: The entire Empire Porky Building is a mesmerizingly monolithic character study unto itself. But his climactic speech when you finally reach him at the 100th floor is like. God. Fucking hell. Where does one even begin. The surprising eloquent conviction with which he speaks, after a whole dungeon of childish taunting. And then, it's actually such a thin veneer after all. He's deluded himself into thinking he's a godlike visionary, but everything he declares about "humanity" is so insecure and immature and downright wrong. The unnerving spite and tragedy of it all. The urge to pity him feels like a bellyache. How you know where he came from and what a hapless child he used to be (and maybe still is) - but to the people of Nowhere?? They've got no fuckin' clue. And he doesn't belong here, but at the same time, he embodies every individualistic capitalistic apocalyptic thing they tried to shove under the rug and forget about. Just. Agh. Turns my brain and bones to jelly.
Idea for a story:
Unpopular opinion: He's not "insane," or mind controlled by Giygas, or gone "crazy" in the aftermath of Giygas' influence. A thousand lifetimes are sure to do something to a guy's head, sure - and I'm sure his mental health ain't great - but like?? Everything about him hits so much harder if he is of relatively sound reasoning (like every other capitalist), and if he's acting on his own will. Stripping him of his psychological agency renders him so thematically & conceptually toothless to me, idk. If he was just acting zany & evil 'cause he was out of his mind or whatever, then none of the shit he does or says really means anything!! Giygas brought out the worst in him. Aloysius and Lardna conditioned him to make terrible choices. Porky chose to spend 3842389 years committing atrocities unto mother Earth and mankind.
Favorite relationship: His friendship with Ness is so bittersweet, and his use of Claus as an extension of himself is both harrowing and fascinating. I think my fav is his narrative dynamics with Lucas though. How they both faced cruelty at the hands of shortsighted adults and the world at large, but learned completely different lessons from it. How Lucas, presumably a boundlessly kind and forgiving person, gets pushed to his absolute limit with this guy. How he's gotta grapple with the ethics of Porky's fate, whether or not he deserves to spend eternity trapped by his lonesome. How Porky coerces this humble farm kid into the role of Ness, chasing the high of his friendship and rivalry. How he calls Claus his "double," right in front of Claus' actual double, just to drive the knife in deeper. How he thinks he represents the grim reality of human nature, while Lucas stands tall and faces him as a shining counterpoint. Everybody explode now.
Favorite headcanon: Uhh shit I dunno what my favorite is. The Masked Man is based on one of his original comic characters he used to draw when he shouldda been paying attention in math class. He had a crush on Ness and didn't know what to do about it and now it's the whole universe's problem. He has a laughably poorly-informed admiration for Ronald Reagan, 'cause his dad spoke highly of him. If he were just a guy in the 2020s, his goal in life would be to usurp Elon Musk by being exactly the same but "smarter" and "more competent" (he would fail because he's neither).
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Every Game I Played in 2023, Ranked
I debated moving this list to Cohost (after all these years, the Tumblr text post interface still makes me want to punch a wall) but whatever, here we are! Keeping it relatively short this year.
A lot of the games I played aren't going to be on this list because I don't have much new to say about them (MTG, Dwarf Fortress, Strive, etc), but for those that I do, here's the games I played this year.
2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022
SD Gundam Battle Alliance - 2022 - Steam - ★★★
I really wanted to like this- you know I like me some Gundam- but the experience is simultaneously too thin, too grindy, and bereft of stakes. There's nothing like "oh no we have to preserve the Gundam metaverse from hackers ruining the archived story!" to make me go to sleep.
There's something about the progression system of every "hey, gotta catch 'em all!"-ish Gundam games that is designed exclusively for people who either played these games in the early 00s, or people with addictive personalities. There's been little in the way of evolution. Yeah, the gameplay here is different as a sort of Action RPG, but this is far more Dynasty Warriors than it is say Armored Core.
Just not for me!
... Where's my new Super Robot Wars at damn it?
9. Pokemon Scarlet/Violet DLC - 2023 - Switch - ★★★★
I talked last year about how I mostly liked this game in spite of its many, many issues. The DLC mostly plays to SV's strengths: fun plot and characters, improved open world catching system from Sword/Shield. They also run considerably better, due to a year of opportunity to make things more stable and address bugs.
That said: It doesn't address any of the other issues that have always been there. Open world exploration becomes kind of pointless when you have the ability to invalidate any level geometry. There is such a thing as too much mobility, believe it or not, when you can just jump over everything. At the same time, the ways cutscenes work is soooo slowwwww, to the point that getting through them to the "action" can be quite tedious.
This DLC also continues the unfortunate thing that drives me nuts about all these DLC, that the level scaling is just awful. It basically assumes you have done literally nothing since finishing Scarlet Violet, and not engaged at all with the post game. Which hey, works out for Lil Timmy who is experiencing this DLC in-line with the base game or only after beating it (since it does dynamically scale for earlier progression), but it makes the whole thing kind of a rote exercise for those who actually played the game more than that?
I realize this is multiple decades now of me barking that hey, it'd be nice if Pokemon didn't exclusively try to appeal to 5 year olds, which is definitely a lost cause at this point. We don't even get stuff like Battle Towers or Frontiers anymore really. Ah well!
8. Street Fighter 6 - 2023 - Steam - ★★★★
Ok, here's the thing: Street Fighter 6 is overall a very good game, lots of care and polish, but I got a few bones to pick with it.
1. I kind of hate its input buffer. Just drives me nuts, particularly with how it handles supers and specials with overlapping inputs.
2. World Tour while is neat, the progression of it is so goddamn grindy and miserable. So much HP for enemies as you go on, and you don't have access to a fighter's full skill set even at the very end due to how special "slots" work.
3. The cast feels too safe. I like the new additions a lot, and in general the old chars have been rendered quite well, but there's just not a lot of innovation going on. The system mechanics are quite good, but it's the thing where no one on the cast really calls out to me. Personal taste thing.
Marvel's Spider-Man - 2022 - Steam - ★★★★
I don't think I have anything particularly unique to say about The Spider-Man Experience beyond hey: that's a pretty good Spider-Man. I think the DLC was obnoxious as shit, and a number of the decisions tied to box-checking-completionist stuff were mean for someone like me who has the stupid brain that thinks it's important to do Everything no matter how tedious it is, but overall: a good Spider-Man. Some of the villain stuff felt pretty weak though.
7. Resident Evil 4 Remake - 2023 - Steam - ★★★★★
A great remake! They trimmed down some areas a fair but, but none of them particularly egregious (some of them, particularly a last act boss being removed, was quite appreciated), and the mechanical additions are fun.
Does it invalidate the old version? I dunno, maybe?
6. We Love Katamari Re:Roll - 2023 - Steam / Switch - ★★★★★
Hey, you know what's also a very good game? We Love Katamari. Not much new to say beyond hey: the name is accurate, and you should buy and play it. I liked it enough to buy it twice on two platforms, which is silly but it gave me the excuse to play more Katamari so quite understandable.
A thing that does annoy me about the game is them reusing certain models from the other Katamari Remake, even when they were deliberately replaced in We Love Katamari and are even called out as different in the item descriptions despite not being so. Arrgh. It doesn't really matter, but I got the dumb brain for that kind of thing.
5. Granblue Fantasy Versus: Rising - 2023 - Steam - ★★★★★
A fighting game that I enjoyed years past now has actually good netcode! The mechanical additions have been very nice, and I've been enjoying myself grinding away for my meager gains. It's also funny having skipped all the base game's DLC and coming in now, since it's like this release just added 20 more chars I'd otherwise not engaged with before.
A ton of polish has made this a fantastic package across the board, so many smart decisions and little details. I'm sure for GranBlue gacha fans it's probably incredible as something that pays tribute as well.
… but see, my main annoyance with the game mostly ties to being unable to stand the source material it pulls from. It's not enough to diminish my positive feelings for the game, but none the less: man, everything about the lore and characters themselves just does NOTHING for me. This is nothing particularly unique to GranBlue itself even, it's pretty in line with how I feel about every gacha title that exists to roll out chars and appeal to as many niches as possible without real forward movement or actual story, but hey here we are.
Looking forward to that 2B.
4. Baldur's Gate 3 - 2023 - Steam - ★★★★★
A game I admittedly haven't completed yet (I got up to a certain kidnapping in the last act and had to set it aside due to stuff repeatedly coming up for the past couple months) but still: this is a very good tactical RPG. I enjoy the writing, characters, and gameplay quite a lot. A ton of polish went into this.
I don't think I have much to say about it that hasn't been said by others, especially with all the Discourse that has circled it for months-to-years now across Early Access into release.
If there's one thing that does kind of annoy me about the game design, it's the way the player characters are handled. You have the option during character creator to create a character with a number of character-build-y backgrounds, or use their pre-built characters that have existing stories. This choice is lose-lose.
A fully custom character is blank, unimportant. There's nothing special about them beyond their affinity with a certain orb and being Protagonist Man. Their background doesn't really matter, even as you express your personality. You have nothing behind you that meaningfully comes up or affects the story (no Gorion, etc) beyond your role in the conflict. In other words, there's not a lot of reason for you to exist except as a cypher for the named characters.
Playing one of the named characters also sucks, because you lose those the writing for those characters. If I'm stuck aping Karlach, I have no Karlach in my party. You barely even get voice acting once you choose to play those characters either. You effectively end up with less writing and characterization, which kind of sucks! Yes, you do get your backgrounds being looped in and mattering more, which is indeed something, but not enough.
There is secretly a third option that, the more I think about it, is the correct one, they just don't tell you it. You can choose your character background to be tied to the Dark Urge, which results in a lot unique interactions, gives your character an actual background and comes up, etc. They don't outright make this the main option presumably because it comes with a lot of baggage (which, yeah, it does), but it seems completely worth it by comparison to just flitting through the story as either a ghost or the phantom of a real character.
3. Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective Remastered - 2023 - Steam - ★★★★★
Play Ghost Trick.
2. Armored Core VI - 2023 - Steam - ★★★★★
From Software continues to not miss. Fantastic game, some of the most satisfying mecha combat I've played. Story is great; it's still your usual "oops we're not explaining much other than in medias res or by circumstantial details" that From Soft has continued to double down on, but I really enjoy that stuff so hey. I 100%'d this game, got all the endings etc. Great stuff.
Really want some proper DLC so I can do even more, though.
1. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom - 2023 - Steam - ★★★★★
Let's face it: this wasn't going to end any other way. Breath of the Wild is probably my favorite game of all time, and this is basically just more of that, remixed and remastered into a Second Quest that builds on the first one.
Something I kept thinking about while playing is that while there is volumetrically more to do, more things happening, more mechanics, etc etc, the different approach it takes in terms of focus and approach doesn't make it necessarily a "strictly better" version of Breath of the Wild.
Breath of the Wild was deliberately spare, quiet, and minimalist. Like the name says, its about the quiet wilderness, a poignant world that you explore. Tears of the Kingdom drops much of that, in many ways turning into a kooky madcap version of BOTW. You don't spent nearly as much time smelling the roses and taking in the scenery, as you're often too busy blasting by using any number of the new movement abilities or combat tools or literal flying machines you can now Nuts and Bolts together.
It's a deliberate escalation, one that in my opinion requires the preceding part to work. They add together into one complete singular experience, rather than pulling against each other. That's awesome, exactly what I wanted. Now I get to have two favorite games of all time that are secretly just one-and-the-same.
Some minor thoughts:
1. Lots of great writing and characterization, built up well on BOTW there.
2. It's kind of funny how much it goes out of the way to avoid talking much about BOTW in case someone plays this game first.
3. The last of a Master mode this time around is kind of a bummer but oh well!
4. The vehicle crafting system and everything about it, including the way it plays into the existing physics system is fucking insane. Absolutely incredible game design. Bonkers.
I'm really curious how the hell they're going to follow these games up. Going back to square-0 from this formula- one that is so built up and diverse, seems like it'd be impossible to me. What the hell could you do? Looking forward to finding out.
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Oie! Fellow brazilian here! Como vai? :D First, wanted to thank you all your content, specially richard and tsurune! Got to know (and love) both because of you! :3 Secondly... Have you watched Tsurune ep3? What did you think? I haven't read the novels (yet) so I'm curious if they are still being somehow faithful to the source material, or if they have started to take their liberties already. Muito obrigada e espero q restinho da sua semana seja especial ☆
Oiii!!! ❤️ That’s such an honor for me, Anon! Thanks!
Now, about this episode, the content we’re getting in the anime right now is, like, 95% original, but the changes are indeed in accordance to what we get in canon, except for two things:
1) The bromance between Minato and Seiya. KyoAni insists on keeping this Minato obsession going on and I’m pretty sure that’s because it’d render the whole first season completely meaningless otherwise, lmao. Also because KyoAni is still toning down Minato and Masaki’s relationship, as well as Seiya’s relationship with Kaito and Minato’s relationship with Shuu, so they gotta get the gay from somewhere. Somewhere safe, where they have an excuse for it. Not to mention that we never really got any closure for Seiya in S1. We didn’t get the scene from volume 1 where Minato frees Seiya of his burden, and in the anime, they made it so that the accident really was Seiya’s fault to some extent, so I don’t know if we’ll ever get this character development at all. The narrative makes a proper conclusion seem necessary, but at the same time, it also seems to glorify the problem.
2) The way that Masaki is portrayed. No matter how hard KyoAni tries, they really don’t know how to handle him as a character. I get this feeling they interpret him so wrong on so many aspects that they don’t even realize just how wrong they got him, ‘cause I can guarantee it’s way more than just the “I’m using y’all for revenge against my late grandpa” shitshow from the first season.
As far as the novel goes, Masaki is fundamentally a pure person. Not as in innocent (that’s Minato), but as in enlightened. The anime tries to depict him as just knowledgeable, but they forget that he’s also wise. He’s thoughtful, specially of Minato and Kaito. And as you’d expect from someone who’s neck-deep into Shinto and Zen, he’s unapologetically virtuous and pretty damn sharp in his teachings. But that’s where the difference between anime and novel is most glaring: in the original, he goes on about it the right way. Anime!Masaki stabs where it hurts; novel!Masaki helps pull off the band-aid. What makes Minato ache isn’t that Masaki lectures him. It’s that Masaki is kind and considerate of things that hadn’t even gone through Minato’s head when lecturing him. Very obvious discrepancy, but damn, the animators sure are bad at noticing it. The problem with this is that they might spiral back into making Masaki look like an asshole all over again.
In fact, they already kind of are.
In the novel, Minato gets banned from the dojo because of an injury that he got on his hand during the prefectural finals. He was supposed to rest so that it could heal, but Minato being Minato, he didn’t want to miss practice. It was not only painful for him, but also started to badly affect his shooting, which is where Masaki stepped in and told him not to come to practice for a week. A whole different picture, isn’t it?
Meanwhile, the anime. Oh, the anime. Right after giving us the non-canon Everyone Can See It about Seiya’s obsession with Minato yet again as if we need or want any more of that bullshit, this time through Eisuke (who in the novel did it with Minato, referring to him and Masaki), KyoAni once more fails dramatically at getting the point of Masaki’s character. First, we begin with him admonishing the boys in an irky, passive-aggressive way. Then, we have Seiya calling him out for the way he’s talking, and not only does he agree that it was terrible, he actually bends down and rewords it... except he only makes it worse.
Just in case anyone is wondering: no, that’s not how he breaks the news to them in the novel, and the ones who scold the boys are actually the girls’ team. Also, this isn’t the moment where Minato gets banned from the dojo. That’s another issue for later on. Like I said, whole different picture. But KyoAni is definitely trying to paint anime!Masaki’s approach as a valid teaching method, just maybe a little rough around the edges. However, by banning only Minato from the dojo simply because he’s the one who spoke up what everyone else was thinking, anime!Masaki is undebatably being unfair and unreasonable. And I’m sure this is groundwork for Masaki to get disappointed again at his inexperience as a mentor, so that we can have the dark brooding Masa-san that KyoAni swears we love but literally none of us asked for. I’m so not looking forward to this.
We could’ve just had Minato get his injury during this match. He hits his hand two times either way, and that’s why it gets so bad in the first place. It could’ve still happened in this season, but nah, why be mindful of the narrative at all? Consistency? Don’t know her.
But well, we all saw this coming. It’s not a surprise. I’m still enjoying S2 despite the annoyance, and I hope we’ll be able to keep up this pace if that means it won’t get any worse. I’m just a little worried by how boring this episode was, though. Without Kazemai as main focus, it feels like we don’t get much emotion from the other characters. We just got introduced to Tsujimine, but aside from Eisuke and Koushirou, nobody left much of an impression.
It also worries me how not involved the characters are with each other. There’s Minato and Seiya, Nanao and Kaito, Minato and Shuu, and now we’re starting to get Eisuke with Minato and Seiya, as well as Ryouhei and Shuu (+Sae and Toujou). But that’s about it. Nobody else seems invested in anybody, except maybe Masaki, who is invested in his boys, but it feels weird to see him invested in them equally, and even weirder to not see Minato invested in him. It’s almost bizarre how they’re just... not in each other’s orbit in the anime. Like, at all. I guess this is what makes the anime feel so detached from the canon even though it’s trying to get closer to it now.
As always, here’s to praying for the best but knowing that we’ll probably only get some crumbs of what could’ve been.
#tsurune#tsurune tsunagari no issha#narumiya minato#takigawa masaki#takehaya seiya#tsurune kazemai koukou kyuudoubu#kyoani#kyoto animation
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The Locked Tomb: Early Nine House Headcanon
The Locked Tomb headcanon below the cut.
Okay, so a thing in The Locked Tomb series is that John Gaius is a Māori man who then goes on to do Space Imperialism. Now, I'd love to pick Muir's brain on her writing decisions here. (Read: I really want Alecto the Ninth to have some flashbacks to the early days of John's Empire.) But I do have a headcanon for part of what might have happened.
Alright, so I'm an American, and I'm old enough to remember 9/11. I remember the impact it had the country, the gist of which is that the country lost its damn mind, created several horrifying government agencies, and invaded multiple countries. Because We Had Been Attacked and Were At War (TM).
Now, this was all helped along by Bush amplifying the fear to get reelected - the news had this whole color-coded system for how likely we allegedly were to be attacked by terrorists that abruptly disappeared once Bush got his second term - and the oil industry and the military industrial complex looking to make big bucks off of the invasions.
And it's not to say that nobody knew what was happening was fucked up and wrong. I mean, I was a teenager, and I did. (Nobody listened to me. I was a teenager. And also Bush wanted that second term and the industries wanted to make money.)
But my point is, if people feel threatened, they're sign off on everything from the TSA to Homeland Security.
And this is America, which is a hegemonic imperialist global superpower that, all things consider, is extremely safe from war. Fuck, I think the last time America had actual foreign boots on the ground here was, what, the War of 1812? In spite of all the fear mongering, we've got two (2) land neighbors, and we've got good diplomatic relationships with both of them.
But The Empire of the Nine House? It's a bunch of space installations or surface installations that rely on oxygen pumps for everyone to Not Die.
My headcanon?
I think someone from one of the trillionaire FTL ships (or, more likely, one of their heirs) built a space empire of their own and attacked the Nine Houses. It wouldn't have been the Blood of Eden - they came later - but I think it's very conceivable that at some point in 10,000 year history of the series, the Nine Houses weren't the [only] major player in the galaxy.
And the Nine Houses prevail, but in the process, the Cohort flipped a planet to win. So then there's a population in jeopardy that has to be relocated somewhere. Now, forcibly relocating a population is genocide, but leaving a population on a planet after rendering it doomed is also bad. Ideally, one wouldn't flip a planet in the first place, but foreign policy runs on dealing with the fallout of the shitty decisions of other people. (In the sense that the Cohort officer responsible for flipping the planet is not going to be the same Cohort officer responsible for dealing with the aftermath. Yes, as God-Emperor, John is ultimately responsible for everything, but nobody runs a space empire single-handedly. Decisions get delegated.)
This would parallel John's justification for putting up the Cow Wall. Gotta put up the Cow Wall or the authorities will just raid the facility. Gotta have a nuclear bomb on hand not because John intends to use it but because they need leverage. Their enemies are powerful and dangerous and want to hurt them. They have to protect themselves. It's self-defense. They don't have another choice. The United States has to invade Iraq or there will be another 9/11!!
Basically, if a population feels like the victim, any atrocity becomes justifiable.
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I’d rather sleep than stay awake | Esmée | Trial 4.1
The face of their captor- the King reflected on the water as he stood happily was enough to make Esmée wish to stand and tear him apart where he stood. Her gaze could burn a hole through him and render his cape to ashes. This was a joke. It had to be. Two great friends of hers’ funeral was attended by the man who ordered their deaths. There was something deeply wrong with this place - that she always knew - but it always astounded her to see it in action. Her glare settling on his face for only a moment.
At least until she looked over the room. Esmée immediately fell into a frown as she saw Luz’s and Frank’s now empty seats. It hurt, to say the least, but it was either to become a snivelling mess and be of no use or take her grief out in another way. So with a small sniffle, and a trained look, she starts.
“…First thing. I’m going to be a fucking wreck. Luz is one of my best friends here, I think. And I’d recently fallen into enjoying Frank’s company. I..” A beat, “I’m angry. My grief right now is unbridled anger. I won’t apologise for feeling my emotions. Luz wouldn’t want me to. I’m going to grieve in my own way. And I’m not letting my friends go unavenged.”
Then, she sighs.
“So we gotta do this whole fuckin’. Figure it out bullshit again. Which is a pain. But I’ll…start with what I saw.”
“I was talking to Tabby- she’s my weapon - for a good portion of the evening so I don’t know if anyone saw me. I was in the fancy lounge and pretty much dead to my surroundings as I got to know her more. So I can’t say much for that period, but from 7:30 onwards I was more aware.”
“Frank was with me, I saw. When we were together it was pretty quiet, a simple thing of following as we went about our business so his restriction didn’t get him. I wanted to go to Lionesses room, so I went on my way and Frank followed. We got there at 7:32. If uh…anyone went to investigate there, the picture on the bed was of my making. If you removed it, please bring it back there. I also tended to the plants. Frank left me at around 7:50 while I stayed there.”
“8:15 I left, then. Saw Frank now with Germain when I headed downstairs and made my way to the manor summoning circle. Passed Shin heading the opposite direction when I was walking there, it must’ve only been a few minutes passed quarter past. The walk isn’t that long.”
“Got to the summoning circle. Saw Hero there. Stopped to talk. I was curious about the Dreams Domain now i’m kinda…embracing it. Against my better judgement. Still hate the damn thing but the more control I have the better. Agreed to train some more with him, too. We continued our discussion for quite some time, so I saw people head into the portal. Theophania around 8:32. And Avery around 9:07. For clarification they were coming from the Manor into the Great Tree. Same way I was heading before I started talking to Hero.”
“I left back to the Great Tree only a few minutes after I saw Avery pass through. Around 9:10. I wanted to go back to the dorms so…well- I went to the dining hall then started towards the dorms using the west hallway. Saw Nams. Got to the room around 9:20 and started to settle in for bed. ‘Least til I got a message from Shin around 10 pm time.” Another beat, “..he told me when we investigated together that it was due to both a bondmate alert and hearing an explosion. I wasn’t at the manor, so I didn’t hear it. But if anyone did hear it- if you can give info to give a more acute timeframe, it’d be helpful.”
With that she grumbles. Her eyes trailing down once again.
“M'not bloody cut out for this…this sucks.”
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A few words about this picture: AWOOOO! BARK BARK BARK-*BONK*
AHEM, now for a few intelligent words. I think her long ass hair just got a whole lot longer, really gives this flowing, dragon like feeling to her along with her big bushy mane up top. can’t fucking wait to this animated.
Those thighs man. Some real heft, some damn MEAT on those bones. That one bit in the trailer during her super were she moves the cloth aside and thus revealing the muscle there? swoon.
That fucking look man. That half lidded glare, that sneer that’s damn near a snarl of contempt. Baiken is a character with a lot going on under the hood but the hood itself is just as important and man did they nail that seething anger. Love it.
The joke that everyone makes is that post Xrd Baiken is the horny design. Which is false, that’s I-no. But being sexy isn’t a bad thing if there’s some nuance to it, and it doesn’t distract, or attempts to distract, from the rest of the character. If Baiken was just the generic barely dressed samurai lady she wouldn’t be a third as popular as she is and I wouldn’t love as her as much as I do.
Sexy needs to be something a character is in addition to whatever makes them interesting without overshadowing it. And I don’t think it does here. And honestly the boobs aren’t even the horniest part of this render. Sure, big boobs, gotta love em, but that isn’t the biggest thing here.
That peak bro, that small edge of the sarashi on the upper edge of her thigh we can see as she stands ready to strike, the danger mixed with the allure. Baiken always had massive cleavage even before the boob thing, but a big thing in her art was always that juxtaposition of graceful beauty and ferocious danger. The big boobs are just an exaggeration of a design element she’s had since like, XX.
Sure, nothing much except for the hair changed any, but honestly I love the Xrd design so ,overall? I am a happy happy fan boy thank you Daisuke.
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COLORS
A/N: No smut, sorry. Written for @princessstevens if she's silk still on tumblr. Based on this picture
"Kellan, call me when you get this," I say hanging up before walking into my building.
He never checks his voicemail so I send him a text too asking him to call me. We go to different schools, he's in the Bachelor's program at Brandman for Business and I'm at Alan Hancock for Art. I know he's probably driving right now or doing something. I remember when I met him, three months ago at Target of all places. I typically don't even shop at Target, I go to Walmart, but I was in there and so was he with his cute ass. I fell in love in the hair section. I was actually stalking him on my way to the body wash, but he was standing in the hair aisle getting conditioner for his thickass curly hair. We were a match made in heaven.
"Hey mama," I greet on my way to the kitchen to cook the pack of chicken sitting out in the sink.
"How was school? Take that trash bag out for me," she says before I can respond.
I look in the trash and change the bag, taking the old one to the chute before washing my hands in the empty side of the sink. The moment I rip open the pack of chicken and start washing it, Kellan calls.
"MAAAA, CAN YOU GET THAT?"
She wanders over fast and answers it having her own conversation with my man as I clean chicken. It sounds like they're talking about how his week has been, his classes, and something that's got ma laughing up a storm behind me. I didn't know Kellan was such a comedian. Something about this seems reversed. I keep waiting but I never get the phone so when I heat the oil and start dredging the chicken, I decide to butt into their conversation and ask.
"Uh, ma, can you put it on speaker so I can talk to him, he called to talk to me!" I start putting the chicken in the hot oil.
"Oh hold on, Kellan, my daughter is here getting her knickers in a twist," she mutters putting the phone on speaker. "I think she wants your attention now all to herself."
Kellan snickers. He and my mama are always teaming up on me like it's funny.
"I know you not laughing," I threaten at the phone, dropping chicken in the pan. "I've been trying to talk to you all day because I missed you but you wanna talk to my mama for-" I look at the time, "Five whole minutes."
"Awww, this baby.. she jealous," Kellan chuckles. "I think she mad you like me more than her."
"Keep acting like you tryna take my Mama from me, nigga. I ain't down with no incestuous shi-stuff," I pause genuinely mad. "You ain't finna be my man and act like my brother, I got a brother. That's nasty."
I don't know why I get mad, but I do. I love my mama. She's mine, not his.. I love Kellan, but he be annoying me for real with that shit because my mama gets too into it like she's not playing. She really does like him more than me. He doesn't understand that and keeps rubbing it in my face.
"You got one more time and you ain't coming over here no more."
"That's our mama's decision," he jokes. I cringe.
"Exactly," she adds.
I put the tongs down and walk out going to my room and shutting the door. I was gonna tell him about COLORS and invite him to come with me but he's pissed me off and now I don't want to talk to him. My mama doesn't even bring my phone right away, it's two more minutes of them still talking. When she brings it, I yell that I don't wanna talk to him. "Well finish the chicken," she directs. I do it.. but I'm still irritated.
"And then when he finally calls me back he doesn't even wanna speak to me. Too busy playing mama's boy to a woman who's not even his mama," I vent at the table watching Yaya's thinned lips stretch in silent judgement across from me. I know she doesn't agree with me, but she's not in my shoes.
"You gotta understand he's just getting comfortable. Your mom's probably trying to be accepting. He's your boyfriend."
"No." That's not it, it's not that simple. "He will dead call for her and ignore me. She doesn't care what I do in a day and I can't get her to look at my art for more than two seconds but he gets her undivided attention. He's only known her for three months."
"That's how it is sometimes," she shrugs. I shake my head.
"No. That's not how it is, and if it is I can't be doing this. No, ma'am."
Her finger raises and I shut up as she takes a call. I didn't even hear a ring, but based on her face she's not liking whoever it is on the phone or what they have to say. She has that stank face that she gets when someone's got her twisted. Meanwhile, the waitress pops back up.
"Ready to order or do you guys need a few more minutes?"
"You must got me fucked up," Yaya blurts causing the server's brow to raise as she looks from Yaya to me. She only asked what we were ordering.
"We're ready to order," I smile. Quickly she takes her pen from her pile of blonde hair.
"I'm not working Friday after I already said I needed that day off," Yays waves to me to order for her since she's on the phone. I know what she'd order. The server looks from her again back to me readying her paper and pen.
"She'll take the fried chicken with mac and collards. I'll take the house cheeseburger with fries.. thank you," I nod as she walks away. I take a sip of my iced tea, wiping the condensation from the glass onto my dress and leaning forward with my hands in my lap.
"Right, but I said it back in July so you'd know I'd need this Friday off. It's in writing, do I need to pull it up," Yaya threatens to whoever is on the phone. I wonder what's going on on Friday. "Yes, pull it up and look at the email.. uhuh.. Yes, so Fri-day I will NOT be there," she enunciates. "Correct… Uhuh, buh-bye!" She rolls her eyes and hangs up shaking her head at me and I know the frustration well, we work at the same Michael's. It's awesome, but our manager is very manipulative. I sip my tea thinking about it.
"You need to be the manager." I wish she were the manager.
"Pur!.. and Dean needs to go," she laughs sipping her coke. "How's your Fiverr going?"
"Oh girl I got some gigs, I've made about $110 from it so far."
"Okay! I'm on Upwork I made about $200."
"Damn. Well I'm looking at working at the Children's Museum for more money."
"True, I saw that position too.. but don't overextend yourself. I'm not.. because we still need to finish with these classes and get our art portfolios together and we ain't finna graduate late-tuh!"
I know, but I also need money.
When our food comes, we get refills on our drinks and that's when she comments on the restaurant, after she bites into her chicken. It's both of our first time coming in, but it's right near our college which is why we decided to give it a shot for lunch. It's called Urban Hangout and that's exactly what it looks like, a coffee shop to hang out in and just sit. The food is really good too.
"So what you got going on Friday," I ask dipping and shoving fries in my mouth one by one.
"Tuh, Friday? Nothing I just needed a day to myself and that's the day I'm taking," her lips pout when I laugh.
"That's smart! I'm glad you ain't let Dean try to sucker you like he be trying." I lean in. She's curling her finger like she needs to tell me something. "He's famous for shit like that -What," I whisper quickly. She waves her hand aggressively for me to stop talking.
"Meg.. you know that guy over there," her eyes flicker to my left. My head stays still but my eyes briefly follow hers to a quiet looking guy sitting at a table alone with an art pad and a beanie on covering his ears and eyebrows, eyes focused down as he draws.
"Mm-mm, no.. Never seen him in my life.."
"Well he keeps looking over here at you, I think he drawing you." She bites her chicken and sips her coke as I stare.
Me? Why he couldn't be drawing her, why does she assume it's me? I take another look at the guy but turn my head too far and end up making eye contact when he looks up. He looks different than I thought he would now that I can see more of his face. He blinks like he's waiting to see what I'm a do so I get up and sit across from him. He's really cute, though I got a man. There's nothing wrong with being nice, I tell myself.
"You go to Alan Hancock?"
The corner of his mouth lifts as he looks straight at me. He has long eyelashes and pretty, full kissable lips. I sit a little straighter. If I weren't already three months deep in a relationship I'd give him my number. He focuses back on his artpad, sketching, his eyes moving back and forth between my face and his paper with new energy. I look over at Yaya wondering if she sees what I see and she's smiling like she knows what I'm thinking. She knows my type, brown skin and bearded. He looks like he has a nice build under the loose shirt. And he draws.
"You speak..?" He doesn't respond. I'm starting to think he's deaf and cute. Maybe he can read lips, both sets. I wave and when he looks up, I point to my lips. "What's your name?" He only and smiles, his eyes creased at the corners, still sketching away.
I decide to just sit still and wait until he's done to see the picture, curious of his skill level. If he doesn't go to Hancock for art, then dammit he should.
Suddenly he stops, looks his page over seriously, and hands me the artpad across the table. He watches me for my reaction. It's a full rendering of my face in great detail and he's made me look beautiful. He's even got my negro nose with the piercing down to the shape of my eyebrows. My locs are accounted for and he put texture on them. Next to that is a full sketch of me sitting at my table, leaning onto the table with the straw in my mouth to drink. He's even got the print of my dress down. Only thing is he's added a realistic looking flower behind my ear in both pictures and I'm not wearing a flower. I look up briefly, curious.
His smile returns as he sees my head tilt with a question in my eyes about the flower. Going into his backpack beside him, he gently pulls out a lively bright golden yellow flower handing it to me. I look to Yaya, who looks equally surprised while I show off my flower. She's fawning.
"Is this how you pick up girls," I smirk smelling it. It's real and I'm geeked. I tuck it behind my ear like suggested by the drawing. Taking his pad, he writes a message on the page and hands it back to me.
24 hours of silence in memory of black women killed by police brutality. My older sister was one and she loved daffodils. I've been giving daffodils to black women all day. This is my last one.
I look up at his warm eyes but now I see traces of sadness.
"When did she die," I whisper unsure of whether to speak or write now. He takes the pad and writes.
2 years ago today.
My heart breaks for him and I hold my heart looking over at Yaya who has no clue what's going on. I'll have to fill her in when I get back over there. In the meantime, I do my best to communicate that I'm truly sorry for his loss.
"Can I have this," I point to the paper. He frowns comically shaking his head and takes his pad back writing again.
I'd rather keep it. I like how it came out.
Can't say I don't understand him as an artist because there are times when you look at your work and love it too much to let it go. Still, it is my face. He smiles seeing my disappointment. I nod deciding to let it go and stand to head back to my table. By the time I sit down, he's up with his things and leaving the cafe. I let Yaya into the loop and she sympathizes looking over to the space where he previously sat.
In class, my eisele faces the window and I start my under painting which is a wash of the background.
"How did you get yet another picture in the hall," I turn to ask Yaya after thinking about it for a good few minutes. She grins with her tongue out between her teeth.
"I keep telling you, taking outside classes and going to workshops really helps you develop in realism."
"I keep saying I'm going to," I sigh as I plop my brush in water. She sweeps her brush across her canvas back and forth.
"You're lazy. That's why you haven't had anything in the hall."
"No, but why can't I just practice and learn from the classes I'm already paying for," I groan. "Otherwise why am I paying?"
"Because you can't, suck it up. You want to be in the hall or you wanna be average?"
"I wanna make $200 on Upwork."
"Up your skill set and you can," she points to my canvas with her detail brush adding insult to injury.
"Bitch, I'm trying!" Honest, I am. I've improved on my own a great deal but I've still never sold like she has. Her art is in THE HALL.
At Allan Hancock College, only the best student work lines the white brick walls of the art halls. The best of the best make it to the glass display. Every visitor to the building had to pass through the art hall and without meaning to, they stop to admire the art almost without fail. Sometimes the art sells for prices upwards of $300. Colorful portraits, hyperrealistic paintings of still life and everyday objects.. Needless to say, the hall is the goal of every art student and the golden standard to aspire to.
"That's pretty," Francis smiles in passing on the way to his easel. He's referring to my self-portrait. I started with the background and now I'm painting my skin tone. Glancing over to his station, I move from my spot to take a look at his canvas.
"Aww, look at Gravy lil fat self!" He's painting his lil fat French bulldog. "Wait a minute... Francis, you got better!.."
"I went to a painting workshop this past weekend, it was a bring your dog paint and sip night. You should've seen all of the puppies! I met a few new people too, 100% reccomend."
"You talkin bout COLORS," April jumps in from behind. Instantly I look at Yaya and she looks at me.
"I love COLORS, I'm telling you, I go there all the time. I've learned so much skill-wise and every day they have something different going on," Francis says. "You ever been?" The question is to me, but before I can answer, April cuts in.
"Y'all need to go on a Saturday night," she smirks.
"I went Sunday, it was fun. Had a lil wine," Francis adds.
"Exactly, no.. Go Saturday Night it's portrait and figure drawing night but there's always a live model and 9 times out of 10 they're always fine." She goes to her portfolio and pulls a painting of a nude black woman. Her strong features are in great detail I notice as I appraise it. This could be in the hall too if she were serious.
"Damn, I been going the wrong day, sign me up," Sheena cuts in. I ain't even see her behind me. "I wanna go, but I wanna paint a woman," she says causing Francis to look back playfully.
"We know."
"Look, I'm going this Saturday night if y'all wanna meet me there," Yaya announces as she focuses on her picture reminding me that I need to head back to mine. "Let me know and I'll get us a table. Just everyone chip in since I'm using my card."
It seems like everyone plans to go. "I'm going too," I say not wanting to be left out.
"Oh I know you are," Yaya's brow raises. I turn my lip up playfully. Kellan would've been bored there anyway he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body. He's like my mom, not interested.
Cutting the engine on my mama's car, I exit the gps and call Yaya.
"Hey. Where you at, I ain't see your car?"
"I'm coming. I'm a few minutes away, wait for me."
"I see Sheena and Francis standing outside. I can claim our station, it's fine. Just meet me inside," I tell her and on entering the urban paint bar with Sheena and Francis directly behind me, the walls are dust free and eggshell white. The overhead fixtures bring white artificial light. The floors are a light sandy wood, finished for easy clean. It looks way better than the outside, bigger too.
Francis leads the way to the desk/register/information center and I grab a brochure advertising a gallery showing that's supposed to happen.
"Hey we have a reservation for five under Yaya. 8PM," he states and we're escorted to a warm white brick space with finished wood floors easy for cleaning. Still there are plastic tarps. There are three other small groups with clustered easels signifying a division, each group with a corresponding table. Our table is table three and we order a bottle of red wine which comes around the same time as April and Yaya. We're all here and ready.
April and Francis take control since they've been to COLORS. They secure our palletes, paints, and brushes.
"Let's make it a competition," April suggests.
"You're on," Yaya points. We're all in, prepping our canvases before the model arrives and when the door reopens we all look up. "IT'S HIM," Yaya gasps echoing my thoughts. He looks just as stoic and reserved as the first time we saw him. I wave catching his eye and jog toward him stopping with my hands on my hips.
"You gotta be an art student," I gape up at him realizing he's taller than I remember. "You everywhere we be!" His lips pout in the tiniest smirk and I wonder if he's still not talking. "My bad, yes or no questions only. Nod for yes.. Are you an art student?"
He shakes his head no.
"Wow wow wow, you in school?"
He nods.
"I really wanna ask you where I'm about to start guessing schools."
Raising a finger to say wait, he proceeds to lightly grab my upper arms and shift me from his path like I'm in the way. I'm offended!
He heads to the middle point of the room which houses a small platform with a few props.
"Ohh," I mouth watching him pull of his thin but loose long sleeved purple vneck. "Dayum!"
I head back to my easel and my group has the same expression. This man looks like a gym rat. I suspected as much but you really couldn't tell through the shirt and that seems to have been on purpose. He's not like me, I flex hard af when I know I look good.
"Professionalism," I remind my classmates. "Y'all seen a naked body before. We are artists, we do not ogle... We respect the human form."
I'm half joking because I know it's normal to have a reaction, but they take me seriously and go into mature mode. Then the man takes off his ripped skinny jeans revealing strong, long, lean calves and solid, defined thighs. He's standing in burgundy briefs that expose that he's working with a monster. Big boy status in those briefs.
It's not like I've never seen a penis, Kellan's is not small. It's not as girthy as this guy's.. but it's similar in length. I'm glad he's not hear to see me damn near simping over this model. That could've been extremely awkward.
I look at the other groups and they seem to be really mature about it. I watch their eyes to see if they're faking composure but quickly change my mind and mind my business. It's a good time to grow up myself.
Then the briefs come off. I keep my face neutral but I see from the corner of my vision that the big boy is hanging. It's been a whole strip tease, I'm almost nervous to look up because my poker face is too fragile. Instead, I start with his face and upper body and jump to his legs based on my view of him. His side is turned to me. I mix my colors for the tonal differences in his skin, accounting for shadows and highlights. I want this portrait to look as good, no.. BETTER than the one he did of me in the cafe. I also want to win this little painting competition. I work on getting the color placement blocked out and accurate and then I follow up with blending and details. His hair is one of my favorite things to paint and I'm confident no one's touching me on that.
He moves around every so often to give the ones who request it a closer look. I don't mind it because he's good at returning to his mark and exact position. Also the lighting doesn't change.
I get his whole body down nearly, left with the gap between his v-cut and his thighs. It's childish but instead of drawing his penis, I start painting in the props. I paint the blue vase and the small stand holding the half full water bottle he keeps taking little breaks to sip from.
"Anyone else hot," I whisper blousing my shirt to give myself air underneath. April takes it as a sign to walk around our easels to look at our canvases and we do the same with each other's. Instantly I realize my painting isn't as good as I thought it was and that I can do better.
"You missed a whole part," she comments inspecting my painting carefully. She's looking at the way I painted his locs. I definitely succeeded there. "You just not gonna give him a dick?"
"I'm not done, I couldn't really see it from this angle," I lie. "I'm just gonna paint a modesty leaf."
"That'll ruin your pretty picture, I've seen your leaves," Francis grimaces. "It's a small part, you can finish it we have time."
I wanna tell him it ain't that small. That thing is big. Instead I pick up the brush to deliberate.
"Hey, could you come just a little closer, please? She's trying to see from the side," April points to me and when he comes closer, I have no excuse.
"Helps to paint it if you look at it maybe every once in a while," he deadpans. I freeze momentarily to look him in the eye. He thinks he's clever.
"Oh you talk now," I smile sarcastically. His small answering smirk shows no malice, purely teasing.
"I like to let people talk who like to talk."
"Yeah aight." I have to look. I start filling in the missing part of his body and when I glance left, Yaya is smirking at me. It's subtle, but I know her and I ignore her.
Kellan wouldn't understand me standing up here sipping wine and drawing dicks with a naked man so close to me. I don't think I'll tell him. That's not something I care to explain and I don't have to, it's art not sexual. I make sure I copy the smooth transition from brown to pinkish-brown on the tip of the dick. I get the healthy shine and the light pull of the balls which are big. He's clean shaven or waxed, I don't know which. When I've got the gist of it he returns to his original position.
"What's your name anyway," I call out. I can't be the only one curious.
"What importance is a given name? The universe will mold us into what we're truly meant to be."
"Erik. His name is Erik," a girl from table four says with a humored sigh. "Ignore him, he's a troll."
"That's a label you've chosen for me. You're a white woman, you are not the universe. Only black women can attempt to perceive me."
"Shut.. up," she groans. It's hard to tell but I'm starting to see he likes mixing his genuine responses with satire. It's confusing. He could be a hotep or he could be fishing. But why would hotep be a nude model? Are there hotep nude models who hand out flowers and draw in cafes?
"Let's compare," Yaya announces and we all vote on the winner with feedback from the other groups who actually consist of nice people. Yaya wins, no surprise there. I'm still proud of my painting. It's my best so far. I wish I could show it to my mama and my man without them viewing it as something perverted.
#original#erik killmonger#killmonger#erik stevens#erik killmonger fanfiction#erik stevens au#black panther killmonger#colors
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꧁ B I O S H O C K STARTERS ≪ PT . 3 ≫ ꧂
An extensive collection of dialogue from the video game Bioshock to be used as rp starters / prompts. Feel free to change pronouns and details as needed. trigger warning for : violence , death , injury , foul language.
" I'm sorry for that outburst … "
" You'll have to forgive an old fool his artistic temperament . "
" How about some fucking service around here ?! "
" He was a nasty one … and my favorite . "
" What happened to you ? "
" I see Cohen's lost his touch . "
" If you knew him when he used to believe in the work … in the struggle . "
" But look around … it's a regular convention of worms around here . They all had mothers , fathers , people who loved them . What makes you any different ? "
" I'd explain the science that renders what you're trying to do impossible , but that would be like playing Mozart for a tree frog . "
" Ignore the lies of Atlas and his Parasites . Rapture is on the rise . "
" I've seen such terrible things , and done worse myself . "
" Thank you for reminding me that the light of the world has not yet been snuffed out . "
" Are they all dead ? Hope so . "
" So far away from your family , from your friends , from everything you ever loved . But for some reason … you like it here . "
" Mark my words - your only reward will be a knife in the back . "
" Christ , what a racket you're making down there . "
" In the end , all that matters to me - is me . And all that matters to you - is you . It is the nature of things . "
" Even in the book of lies , sometimes you find truth . "
" There is indeed a season for all things . "
" But know this - you are my greatest disappointment . "
" A season to all things : A time to live , and a time to die . A time to build , and a time to destroy . "
" The assassin has overcome my final defense , and now he's come to murder me . "
" In the end , what separates a man from a slave ? "
" A man chooses . A slave obeys . "
" I gotta say , I had a lotta business partners in my day , but you … "
" You've been a pal , but you know what they say … never mix business with friendship . "
" Thanks for everything , kid … "
" If you won't dance to that tune , I got others . "
" ADAM improved every aspect of a man … except his character . "
" That's it kid . You're busto . "
" Florence Nightingale huh ? That'll come crashing down before you can say canned tomatoes . "
" Kills me to turn my fist to you , but business is business . "
" Don't let it get you down … won't make a difference when this whole place is fish food . "
" I hear your wings flapping in my home . "
" Stay and enjoy the dance , if you wish . "
" When will you ever learn to take instruction ? "
" Hate to see you this way , kid . "
" You will not believe me , but there was a time when this place was all so beautiful . "
" Whadya take me for , some kind of mental incompetent ? "
" They say to save one life is to save the world entire . "
" I'm gonna miss this place . "
" Rapture was a candy store for a guy like me . "
" Give me a smart mark over a dumb one any time . "
" A new curfew will be enacted on thursday . Citizens found in violation will be relocated to Apollo Square . "
" Perhaps you unlock a future for them that I cannot even imagine . "
" You don't have to build a city to make people worship you . Just make the chumps believe they're worth a nickel . "
" You think Ryan's gonna be there for you when you're down and out ? "
" You , me , and a submarine topside . "
" You let him get away ! "
" You're playing a bad hand ! "
" Now there's nothing left for you but a long , cold , nothing . "
" I'd turn tail if I were you . Ain't nothin' here for you but tears . "
" What things we have done … what things … "
" Look around you ! There's nothing to save ! "
" Rapture is a mausoleum , a god damn cemetery funhouse . "
" You're just a ghost … just a matter of time until you realize it . "
" Come back when you get some money , buddy ! "
" You know , you should be THANKING me ! "
" It's a wounded world , is it not ? "
" How can I thank you for this kindness ? "
" Where you gonna go ? "
" Better with you than alone . Alone in the crawling darkness . "
" There will be no going back from here . "
" You gave them the one thing that was stolen from them . A chance . "
" In the end what was your reward ? You never said . "
#resources#bioshock starters#video game starters#rp starters#rp prompts#roleplay sentence starters#roleplay sentence meme
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speechless // h.p
Summary: Can you do a Harry Potter x reader where reader is exactly like Richie Tozier and she defends him from Draco and his Slytherins? And Harry falls in love with her from then and everyone is teasing him?
Warnings: language ofc!!!
Word Count: 6k
A/N: ok first off I cannot express my love for Richie Tozier enough. he’s a precious baby and I love him. also I’m so close to my next hundred! thank you all! (gif isn’t mine) xxxx
—
“Oi, mum sent me a package!”
Ron peeled open the box in front of him, repeatedly hitting Hermione in the ribs as he ripped the paper off the box, his face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.
“I hope it’s a wig,” you piped up, “Because something really has to change about your hair.”
Ron glared at you, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor and kicking it under the table, “Ha, hilarious.”
He continued to rip at the box, eventually managing to tear it open. His eyes widened, his smile falling shortly after.
“Oh, is it a picture of yourself?” you pursed your lips and nodded condescendingly, “That’s the only thing that could have made you look so depressed.”
Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, however Ron kept a solemn expression as he took out the contents of the box, which happened to be a very old pair of dress robes — the collar was off-white and frilly and the thick sleeves were clearly moth-eaten. You put a hand over your mouth to hide your laughter, not wanting to make Ron’s mood any more sour than it was at that moment.
“Mum sent me...a dress?” Ron’s voice was defeated as he stood up, holding the dress robes at their full length.
“Wow,” you struggled to hold your laughter back, “I didn’t think anything could get worse than your hair but that’s awful.”
“Is there a bonnet?” Harry joined in on the teasing and reached into the package, taking out what appeared to just be a frilly mess, “Aha!” You grinned at Harry’s pleaser reaction.
Ron scowled at the two of you, walking away from the table and approaching his younger sister, “Ginny, these must be for you.”
Hermione started giggling, catching Ron’s attention. He peered back at her, silently asking what her problem was.
“They’re not for Ginny, they’re for you, they’re dress robes.”
Ron’s face lost all colour, making the situation a million times more amusing for you. Harry continued teasing his friend, Ron becoming more agitated by the minute. You tuned out the conversation where Hermione explained to Ron that they were dress robes, and focused on the breakfast plate in front of you, loving how every now and then Harry would nudge you and make another joke.
Ron stuffed the robes back in the box, wanting to hide them from the eyes of fellow students. Most of the Gryffindor table had seen them by now, everyone had a good laugh, but the last thing Ron wanted was to catch anyone else’s attention.
So, naturally, that’s exactly what happened.
“Weasel, what was that?”
The four of you turned your attention towards Draco Malfoy, who sauntered over to your section of the Gryffindor table with his goonies by his side.
You immediately fought the urge to stand up and punch him in the face — a natural urge when around Malfoy.
“I guess considering how poor your family is, those awful dress robes are all you could afford,” Malfoy smirked at Ron’s flushed face, which was now facing the floor.
You stood up, “Oi, we didn’t ask for a conversation with an arrogant asshole today.”
Malfoy’s eyes shot daggers at you, Crabbe and Goyle flexing their ‘muscles’ as if trying to warn you, “How dare you—”
“—talk to me, yeah, I’ve heard the speech before,” you cut him off, crossing your arms across your chest, “Now, leave, thanks. Seeing your face made me lose my appetite.”
As if rendered speechless, Malfoy rolled his eyes and stormed off, followed by his two shadows. You smirked and sat back down, continuing to pick at your breakfast silently while Harry, Ron and Hermione smiled at you.
“What’re you all staring at?” you asked, not bothering to look up.
Ron shook his head, “I reckon I’ve never seen Malfoy speechless before.”
You shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s a gift, I leave people speechless.”
The three of them laughed, the conversation going back to normal as you finished off your breakfast, mentally preparing for another loooong day of classes.
— —
“There’s gonna be a ball?” you scoffed, turning to Hermione wide a bewildered expression, “We’re expected to dress up? Oh, the nightmare.”
She tried to stifle her smile so McGonagall wouldn’t call the two of you out, “It’s not horrible, is it? I think it’s about time we do something fancier here.” She glanced quickly over at Ron before turning her attention back to you. But, being as attentive as always, you caught her not-so-subtle glance.
You widened your eyes, faking a gasp, “You already know who you want to go with, don’t you?”
She shushed you quickly, trying to make sure no one heard your outburst. You could see the blush rise to her cheeks, already giving you the answer you needed. You knew damn well she had feelings for Ron, but she really did try her hardest to hide them.
“Y/N! Don’t just be blurting out stuff like that,” she forced a neutral expression, “And no. I don’t know who I want to go with. Nor does it matter.”
You nodded, not believing her, “Whatever answer floats your boat, I guess.”
She furrowed her eyebrows, “Well, who do you want to go with then?”
You turned away from her, eyes subconsciously darting towards Harry — who was so zoned out he didn’t even notice your glance — and turned back to Hermione, “No one. No one’s good enough, of course.”
She rolled her eyes, “I call your bluff.”
“Well call whatever bluff you want,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and turning away from her to face McGonagall, “Can’t fight the truth.”
She didn’t press the subject any further, but continued to peer at you through the corner of her eye, thankfully missing every time you looked over at Harry.
You couldn’t deny, Harry Potter was a catch. He was cute, fun to be around, and had recently fought off a dragon. I mean, the whole package, right? It wasn’t hard for you to develop a crush, the feelings came so naturally.
However, you were fairly certain the dark haired boy didn’t feel at all the same about you. He never showed interest, nor did he go out of his way to be with you. It stung a little when you’d catch him watching the perfect little Cho Chang make her way through the Great Hall, but you weren’t going to let it bring you down. He wasn’t yours, after all.
“Now, next time we meet I will be giving you dance lessons—”
You had finally tuned back in to what McGonagall was saying, trying your best to seem as if you hadn’t just floated off.
“—So, the rest of your class is a free period.”
You stood up hastily, grabbing Hermione’s wrist and walking over to where Harry and Ron were sitting, the two of them standing up and grumbling about dancing.
“Boy, oh, boy,” you let go of Hermione’s wrist and placed your hands on your waist, “A dance, huh? What’d ya think about that, Ronald? You gonna ask anyone?”
Ron’s face went blank and Hermione stomped discreetly on your foot, telling you that you had overstepped your boundaries. You hoped she’d forgive you for this.
“Uh, I don’t know,” Ron shrugged, looking between you and Hermione. You were destined to set those two up, nothing was going to stop you.
“You sure? C’mon, handsome lad like you’s gotta find a date. And you Hermione, you’re, ya know, smart and fun, don’t you want to bring a date as well?” you grinned, knowing damn well how uncomfortable you were making them. They both shifted awkwardly, stealing glances back and forth, none of them knowing what to say next. Ron’s feelings for Hermione were just as obvious, really.
“Well, I’ve made things weird, haven’t I?” you smirked, placing your arm around Harry’s neck. You ignored the way goosebumps formed at the contact, choosing to believe it was from how warm his skin was.
“Yes, you have, thanks,” Hermione spoke through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at you.
“Apologies,” you bowed slightly, “Let’s leave them be, Harry.”
Harry, laughing and sharing a confused expression with Ron, followed you out. You took your arm away from him, stealing a glance back to see that Ron and Hermione were still standing in awkward silence, and turned into the hallway.
“Nice work, maybe they’ll finally work up their courage,” Harry grinned at you, nodding approvingly at your set up, “You’re a natural matchmaker, Y/N.”
“See, they just needed a push, is all—oof,” you were cut off, bumping forcefully into a body of someone much larger than you. Your sight went dark, the only thing you knew was that the person tended immediately upon impact.
You pulled away, noticing the deathly glare Crabbe was now sending you.
“Oh, it’s just you,” you sighed in relief, “It went dark for a second, I thought I saw the end.”
Harry coughed to hide his laughter, pulling lightly on your sleeve to tell to you walk away. His tugging only became more aggressive once Malfoy stepped out from behind Crabbe, the same pissed off expression as always laced into his features.
“Leave us alone, Malfoy,” Harry glared at him, the tension between the two of them rising significantly in a short amount of time. He let go of your sleeve, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders.
“It was unfortunate, you know, that the dragon didn’t kill you,” Malfoy said lowly, clearly loving the fact that his friends laughed at his comment. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure what they had found funny. Was it a joke? What had he said that was so funny?
Harry rolled his eyes, motioning his head for you to follow him, and so you did so without question.
“You know, I was mistaken,” Malfoy’s voice echoed down the corridor, making both of you turn around once more. You were feeling both bored and angry — it was quite a strange mix. You were used to Malfoy’s taunts, having sat by while all of your friends — you included — fell victim, but a part of you particularly hated the way he spoke to Harry.
“Oh, yeah? About what? Please, for Merlin’s sake, enlighten us,” you snapped back, “We’re just dying to know.”
Malfoy’s eyes scanned your face before approaching the the both of you one more. Harry’s shoulder was pressed up against yours and you could feel his ragged his breathing had become. Malfoy always found a way under his skin and it bothered you a great deal.
“About Potter, I actually hope you do make it to the end, it’ll make your death that much more bittersweet,” Malfoy sneered, “For those who care, that is.”
“Gee, I always believed we Gryffindors were petty but that’s a whole new low,” you smirked, taking a step forward after pushing Harry back, telling him to let you handle the situations, “You know, I’ve come to a conclusion about you, Malfoy. The reason you’ve never said anything logical in your life is because you waste your breath insulting the people that you think care about your opinion.”
“Excuse me?” you had never seen Malfoy looked more appalled than in that moment. It was rather amusing.
“Was my English not easy enough for you to understand? Point proven,” you sighed dramatically, turning away from him and nudging Harry in the shoulder, “Oh, one more thing, Malfoy.”
You turned back to face him, “suck my dick.”
And with that, you turned back and walked away with Harry by your side, neither of you wanting to turn and gauge what Malfoy’s reaction would be.
Once you two were around the corner, Harry turned to you with wide eyes and his mouth broken into a wide smile. If this was the reaction you’d get for shutting down Malfoy, you’d gladly do it any day.
“That was epic, Y/N!” his hands grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly, “I’ve never actually had anyone stand up for me like that before, what made you do it?”
“Oh — I dunno,” you shrugged, feeling quite proud of yourself, “I stick up for my friends, I guess.” Friends. How you wished Harry could be more than just your friend.
“You’re incredible,” he grinned, taking his hands off of your shoulders and shaking his head in disbelief, “You know, I think I found the perfect friend in you. I love Ron and all but that was something else...”
As he trailed off, you noticed the way his eyes darted between your lips and your eyes. Although that should make you weak in the knees, a part of you instinctively pulled away, flushing brightly at the encounter. You told yourself it was probably just the heat of the moment, the thrill of the comeback.
“Eh, no biggie,” you shrugged, “Asshole needs to be put in his place sometimes.”
You nodded awkwardly and began to continue in the path you were headed, until you noticed Harry was no longer by your side, still standing rooted where you two were not five seconds ago.
“Harry, you—,”
“I’m good, yeah,” he cut you off quietly, a light smile on his lips, “You’re the best.”
“I’ve been told,” you grinned, trying not to let his words get to you. He chuckled, walking forwards and standing next to you, eyes still staring into yours with intensity you didn’t think you could bear.
Awkwardly looking away, your cheeks heating up, you motioned your head down the hall, “We should get going before Hermione and Ron come after me like an angry mob.”
Harry nodded, eyes wide and turning away from you, shaking his head like he was clearing his thoughts, “Good point.”
And so the two of you walked off towards the common room, the silence tense and unsure, but not comfortable. Did Harry really mean what he said? Calling you ‘the best’ and all? It was flattering, especially coming from him, but did he mean it the way that you wanted to take it?
Fighting a mental battle, you stayed quiet until you reached the common room. You flopped down on the couch, nearly being hit by a firework that Fred and George were trying out in the corner of the room.
“How long do you think it’ll be before—,”
The portrait door swung open and a very flustered Ron and Hermione stumbled in, both looking tremendously irritated and uncomfortable.
Hermione stormed up to you, dragging you up by your collar, “You and I need to talk. Right now.”
Shocked by her outburst, you nodded, “If you wanted to get me alone you could have just asked—,” noticing her expression, she wasn’t in the joking mood, “Yikes, sorry, okay, let’s go upstairs.”
She continued to drag you up, the anger fueling her sudden burst of strength. You did feel kind of bad about leaving her and Ron, but it wasn’t like you openly said anything about her feelings towards him.
Upon reaching your dorm room and noticing it was empty, she shut the door and pointed a finger at you accusingly, “You. Why would you do that? That was humiliating!”
“Oh come on,” you sat on the edge of you bed and brought your legs up, sitting criss-crossed, “It couldn’t have been that bad. Did he ask you to the ball?”
“No!” she seethed, sitting down on hers as well, “All he said was that he indeed noticed I am a girl.”
Your eyebrows shot up, “Four years in and he finally notices? I knew he wasn’t the brightest lightbulb in the chandelier, but wow.”
As if she agreed with your comment, the anger seemed to disappear from her face. She rushed off her bed and sat next to you, shoving you over slightly so she had space on the tiny bed.
“I think he’s already got his eye on someone. It’s not fun.”
“Tell me about it,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself. Hermione’s eyes shot up, giving you a quizzing look as you clamped your hand over your mouth.
“Oh! You like someone!” she grinned, lifting her hand to poke you in the shoulder, “You know about my feelings, I need to know about yours.”
“I don’t have feelings,” you defended, fighting back a blush and taking your hand away from your mouth, “Don’t turn this on me.”
“It’s Harry, isn’t it?” she smirked. You scolded yourself for having been obvious. Of course, the ever-so intuitive Hermione would catch onto who your crush was. It was an embarrassing attempt to hide it on your part.
“Listen, Hermione,” you pointed a finger at her, “Tell anyone and during the next dinner, they’ll be serving your head on a silver platter.”
She giggled, ignoring your threat and crossing her fingers over your heart, “I won’t tell a soul.”
Squinting at her, you figured you’d be able to trust her. She had been your friend for years and kept all your previous secrets. She might be able to keep this one as well.
“Fine,” you gave in, throwing your head back in frustration, “You’re right. It’s Harry.”
She gave you a toothy grin, wiggling her eyebrows, “Now, I have to set you two up.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” you shot back, pointing your finger and shaking your head, “You’re gonna take his deep-rooted love for Cho away and, well, that’s just plain rude.”
“Oh, shut up, he’s barely ever spoken to her. It’s just an appearance thing,” she waved her hand, brushing off your comment, “Besides, I heard Lavender Brown say that Cho and Cedric Diggory are hanging out.”
Not overly shocked by the information, you leaned back onto your pillows, “Good for her. Diggory is a right catch if I say so myself.”
Hermione smacked your knee, “Sit up! Listen to me, you don’t need to pout, let’s just go down there and I’ll work my magic.”
You glared at her, not utterly convinced she was able to do much, but you followed her back downstairs nonetheless, figuring it was worth a shot. The worst that could happen was that Harry would not feel the same, distance himself from you, then you’d lose Ron and Hermione as well because they were his friends first and then you’d be left alone to suffer in self despair while they galavanted in friendship—
“Hey, Harry!” Hermione greeted a little too cheerfully once you two entered the seating area of the common room. Already embarrassed by her attempt, you didn’t notice the way Ron and Harry immediately stopped talking upon your entrance, sharing a look that could only mean ‘don’t say anything.’
“Er — hi, Hermione,” Harry smiled awkwardly.
You sat down on the couch next to Ron, who was eyeing Hermione with awe. He was so smitten, it was a miracle no one else noticed the way he looked at her.
“Ron, you’re pathetic,” you leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Ask her. Don’t make me threaten you into doing it.”
Ron shot you a look, “Not bloody likely.”
You turned away, shrugging, and stared into the fireplace. Harry was seated on your other side, not saying much, but the way he kept looking over at you made you think that he did actually have something he wanted to say.
“Well, from what I’ve heard, Cho is going to go to the ball with Cedric,” Hermione said, pretending it was no biggie but checking over repeatedly to see Harry’s reaction.
Upon noticed he didn’t say anything, she leaned closer to him, “Did you hear me Harry? Cho’s taken.”
Harry looked at her, eyes darting back and forth between you, Ron and her, “Yeah, I heard you.”
“Guess that means you can ask someone else,” Hermione grinned, leaning back.
You scolded yourself for telling her. She was being ridiculously obvious and it pained you to see her efforts. Did she think this was going to anywhere?
“Er — I guess,” Harry shrugged, glancing over at you for a millisecond before turning back towards the fire, “I guess I’ll wait and see how things go.”
Your heart did a slight flip. He didn’t mention having any other girl in mind, maybe that meant he didn’t. Which still gave you a shot, technically. Even if he didn’t see you that way just yet, maybe you’d have to turn on the charm. Flirt, make him see that you were actually interested.
Granted, flirting was never really your area of expertise. You weren’t good at it, nor did you really have any experience. But maybe, just maybe, with Hermione’s strange help, you’d be able to find a way to get him to notice you.
Plan Flirt with Harry was now in action.
— —
Over the next two weeks, things had been going relatively well. Hermione had toned down her strategy and was making you seem like much more of a natural.
You and Harry had even shared a few lingering touches, whether they be your hands touching at the table during dinner, or his elbow touching yours when you were sat in the common room. Nothing overly intimate, but enough to send sparks flying through your body at the feeling.
You had also noticed the way Ron and Harry seemed to drop whatever conversation they were having when you entered the room. Sure, they could have been discussing Hermione and Ron’s feeble attempts at his own flirting, but the way Harry would glance at you during meals and classes sent your head spiralling with the idea that maybe, just maybe, they were talking about you.
You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but it was hard not to when the ball was getting closer by the day and neither you, nor Harry, had a date and he still hadn’t shown interest in anyone else.
“He asked me!” Hermione stumbled into the dorm room in excitement, causing you to jump out of your skin and nearly drop the book you were reading.
“Ron?” you grinned, sitting up, “Oh, that’s great, Hermione! I knew—,”
“Not Ron,” she rolled her eyes, flopping down on your bed, on top of your legs, “Viktor Krum.”
“Ohhhh,” your eyes widened, “You go, girl. Have you seen his jawline? I’d let him cut me with it, hot ass—”
Hermione laughed, pretending to shoot you a glare, “That’s my date you’re talking about.”
“Right, sorry,” you joined in on her laughter, closing your book and placing it on your night table, “But I really am happy for you.”
“Thanks,” her cheeks went pink as she turned to face you, “Can we go sit in the common room? It’s just Ron and Harry.”
“Yeah, sure,” you sighed, flicking the warm blanket off of you and following her downstairs. She was radiating joy, and even though it wasn’t Ron that had ended up asking her, you could tell she was really looking forward to this date.
“Just ask her,” you heard Ron snap quietly once you two started making your way down the stairs, “I see the way she looks at you.”
“I can’t!” Harry snapped back, trying to keep his voice down, “She can do better anyways.”
“Yeah, bloody right,” Ron scoffed, “You fought a dragon.”
“It’s not the same, Ron, I— shush, I hear footsteps.”
The two of you walked into the room, noticing once again how Harry and Ron dropped their conversation upon landing sight on you two. So, Harry already had plans on asking someone to go to the ball. It hurt, you weren’t going to deny it. Of course he had someone else. He was Harry Potter, for goodness sake. Charming, funny, loyal, and brave. All the qualities to make a girl swoon.
“What are you two ladies gossiping about?” you pretended to be fine as you sat down on the opposite couch, placing your hands in your lap and trying to steady your now irregular heartbeat. Jealousy was slowly coursing through your veins and you hated it.
“Nothing,” Harry shook his head, a fake look of innocence on his face. Ron nodded along, neither of them being very convincing.
“Oh, hey Y/N,” Ron smirked, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging Harry in the ribs. Harry, glaring at his friend, gave him a nudge right back. You chose to ignore the comment, focusing more on the look Hermione was giving you.
“Hi, Ron,” you replied back, not sure why he was grinning while glancing back and forth between you and Harry. He was always very strange.
Hermione sat down on the armrest of your chair, crossing her arms and nudging you in the side, telling you to start doing something.
“Harry, are you trying to figure out the second task?” you blurted out, not sure what you could have said that wouldn’t make the situation weird.
“Of course,” Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly, his eyes avoiding yours, “I think I’ve almost got it.”
You grinned, “Oh, that’s great. I knew you’d be able to figure it out.”
Hermione seemed more pleased by your comment, leaning back and letting the situation unfold.
“Harry’s real smart, you know,” Ron nudged Harry in the side again, a teasing expression on his face, “One of the smartest.”
“Thanks,” Harry glared at Ron, speaking with gritted teeth before turning back to you, his face softening, “I had help, though.”
“Modesty isn’t gonna make you win, y’know,” you smirked, admiring his honesty, “Take credit. Be proud of yourself.”
Harry’s cheeks were pink and he brushed the hair out of his forehead, “Thanks, Y/N.”
You could tell he was flustered, but you figured it was probably because of the compliments. Harry never really knew how to reply to them — you had noticed that over the years. For someone who was the bravest person you had ever met, he sure didn’t know how to deal with people.
“Oh, Ron, Ginny wanted to talk to us,” Hermione sat up quickly, clapping her hands together. Ron raised an eyebrow, questioning her silently, before standing up.
“She did?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
“Yes! She did,” Hermione sent a discreet wink in your direction before turning to Harry, “We’ll be back shortly!”
“Well, Y/N, Harry, be safe you two,” Ron picked up on what Hermione was doing, smirking as he made his way to exit the room, “Have fun!”
Harry glanced at Ron, his eyes wide. The two boys shared a look before Hermione dragged the ginger boy out the portrait hole behind her.
“Head on a silver platter, Hermione!” you called after her, your heart beating violently, “Head on a silver platter!”
The portrait swung shut and the room went dead silent. The only thing you could hear was the thump of your heart and the sudden nervousness that spread throughout your body at being alone with Harry.
You wanted to seize the chance and make a move, but you had just heard him talk about asking a girl to the ball, so was it a good idea? Probably not.
But as you looked at him, watching the way the flames flickered across his face and the way his messy hair stuck out in different directions, it took everything you had in you to not rush over there and tell him everything.
“Can I tell you something? Don’t tell Ron and Hermione,” he piped up quietly, turning to face you, the blue of his eyes making you weak. You were thankful he spoke first, it prevented you from spilling your guts and making a fool out of yourself.
“Sure,” you replied, getting up and walking towards the couch he was sitting on, making yourself comfortable on the opposite end.
He sighed deeply, “I haven’t figured out the egg.”
“You haven’t?” you spoke, shock evident on your face. You felt bad for acting so surprised, but you couldn’t help it. He had seemed so confident when he told you he had.
He shook his head silently, shrugging, “I don’t know what to do with it.”
You blinked rapidly, turning over to face the golden egg that was sitting on the table, “Why didn’t you want to tell the others? Hermione could probably figure it out.”
He turned to you, face pale, “No, don’t tell them. I just thought I’d tell you, I don’t know, I trust you.”
You fought back a grin, hiding your smile behind your hair so you didn’t look like an idiot. He probably didn’t mean it as a compliment but you took it as such.
“Well, I’ll help you, then,” you nodded, holding out your pinky, “I know we’re not children, but I pinky promise.”
He grinned, linking your pinky with his. For someone who had been through so much, he really did have soft skin. It was annoying. Pleasant, but annoying.
“I’m glad I have you around, Y/N.”
His gaze was so intense and wholesome that you struggled to hold back.
“The sappiness is gross, but I’m glad to be around,” you beamed, pulling your pinky away and turning back to your corner of the couch, leaning your head back and enjoying the softness of the cushion, your mind going back to the conversation you had heard between him and Ron. Who was he planning on asking?
Now was your chance — now or never.
“So — uh — who are you asking to the ball?” you asked, so silently Harry had to lean closer to you to hear it.
He stammered, “Oh — er — I dunno, yet. There’s a girl I have in mind but I don’t think she sees me that way.”
Your heart sank, but you turned to face him with a neutral expression, “I call bullshit. Who wouldn’t want to go with you?”
He seemed to think over your words for a second, a glimpse of fondness on his features, but he turned away and shook his head, “She’s different.”
“How so?” you regretted it as soon as you asked, knowing Harry was about to gush about some girl when you wished more than anything it was you he’d be gushing about.
“She’s bold,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips, “Not afraid to stick up for herself or the people she cares about. She’s smart, too, always has an answer for everything. A good friend — the best, really. And I know she’d be better off with someone who wasn’t me.”
You nodded, processing his words and trying to think of the girl he could be talking about. It completely crushed you, hearing him speak so highly of someone, but you knew that if anything, he’d be the one better off without you.
“Why’d you think that?” you began twiddling with your thumbs, avoiding his eyes, “Did she tell you or is it an assumption?”
“She didn’t tell me,” he quickly replied, shaking his head, “But she’s got such an incredible spirit, I’m worried I’d ruin it. You know, it’s funny. I always looked at her like she was just a friend, just someone that I’d got lucky to have around, but then one day, she did something, and it kind of clicked. After that, I couldn’t look at her the same. She was so much more beautiful, so much more radiant and lovely and I knew from then on that she was just... different to me. And I tried to tell myself she was never going to see me that way but the more I was around her, the harder it was.”
You bit your cheek, trying your best to hold back your oncoming emotions.
“Well, she’s lucky,” your voice was weak, shaky even, as you turned to face him.
His smile was clear as day and the love struck expression was still on his face as he turned to look at you, causing you to speak up one more, “What did she do that made you change your mind about her?”
The smile vanished from his face and the awkward expression returned. He raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck and then through his hair, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next.
He dropped his hand and faced you, all traces of amusement gone from his face, “She stuck up for me.”
Your breath caught in your throat, his words echoing in your mind. You nearly missed his hand reaching across the couch and grabbing yours, linking his fingers and running his thumb across your skin.
Had he been talking about you? It would make sense, you had stuck up for him against Malfoy a few weeks back, but had it really impacted him to the point where he was falling for you?
You didn’t want to complain, but you couldn’t believe it. You thought back to what he said, about seeing you as a friend and then as something more, that you were different and beautiful, even. It was nearly impossible to believe him just off of his words, you had embarrassingly dreamt of him admitting his feelings and it felt too good to be true, but his gentle tough and soft gaze grounded you to reality. He was telling you the truth.
“I’m talking about you, if you hadn’t caught on,” he tried to smile but it came off as more of a grimace, his nerves evident in his shaking hand and pale complexion.
You still couldn’t forumulate the words to say. For years you had always been the one to make a comeback, leaving others speechless — but now, you were the one speechless.
“Me?” you stared at him with wide eyes, heart violently thumping against your rib cage, trying to burst out and reach his, “Me?”
He retracted his hand rather quickly, “Unless — you know, unless you don’t feel the same.”
“No, wait,” you reached across and grabbed his hand, finally finding the courage to flash him a smile, “I do actually. I do feel the same.”
Relief flooded over him, his face regaining colour and his shoulders slouching back, “Oh, thank Merlin.”
The joy that had spread through you was indescribable. You didn’t think there could be a better feeling. Your heart seemed to swell and the tingling sensation in your fingers was everlasting. It was like a high you didn’t want to come down from. God bless Hermione and her intuition of leaving you two alone.
Plan Flirt with Harry had been a success.
— —
Hermione and Ron had quickly been informed of the confession between you two, both of them saying they had called it years back. Which didn’t make sense considering you didn’t have feelings for each other years back, but you let them enjoy their moment.
You had helped Harry try and figure out his second task, as promised, spending many a nights up late in the common room and telling each other things you wouldn’t tell someone if you were ‘just friends.’ You were having the time of your life, really. He had grown comfortable being intimate — holding your hand on the way to class or pecking your cheek in the Great Hall. (Hermione and Ron teased you two to no ends about it.)
Eventually, Harry had asked you to be his date to the Yule Ball — which you responded with ‘well, duh.’ So, as the night of the dance came around — you were actually looking forward to it now — you had gotten ready with Hermione and strolled down to the Great Hall, ready to finally dance the night away with the boy you had fallen for.
Reaching the stairs, you noticed him and Ron standing at the bottom, both looking out of place. Ron — donning his ugly dress robes — had worked up the courage to ask one of the Patil twins. Which one, you didn’t remember. He had asked her out of desperation, it was rather sad.
“It’s embarrassing to be seen next to you, Ronald,” you tapped him on the shoulder once you arrived at the bottom. He spun around, his face laced with humiliation.
“They’re ancient,” he groaned, lifting his arms to show you the frills.
“Yeah, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you,” you winked and ruffled his hair, turning to face Harry.
His eyes scanned you up and down in your dress, but you were too focused on how good he looked to feel at all self conscious. You had only ever really seen him in sweaters and his Gryffindor robes. This was a whole new level of glo-up.
“You look gorgeous,” he grinned, linking his hand with yours and pulling you closer to him, “I’m the luckiest guy here.”
You tossed your hair over your shoulder, grinning, “Well, what can I say? I’m a catch.”
“That you are,” he nodded, sticking out his arm for you to take, “We have first dance since I’m Champion.”
You nodded, linking your arm in his and standing by his side. You weren’t exactly a good dancer, but if you had Harry by your side you’d be too focused on him as opposed to the crowd around you.
“Shall we go in then, Champion?” you turned to face him, chin held high.
“We shall,” he replied in the same noble manner, chin up, and began leading you into the ball.
He was well worth the wait.
#harry potter imagine#harry potter imagines#harry potter one shot#harry potter one shots#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfics#harry potter x reader#harry potter reader insert
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strange love - shane “dio” morrissey x reader
word count: 3,986
chapters: one shot
summary: porn with plot...barely. dio is feeling moody, reader is feeling needy. sexy shenanigans ensue.
warnings: knife/blood play, slight degradation, worship, blowjobs, vaginal fingering. if i missed any, let me know!
Dio’s signature trench coat consumed you in its cracked leather leaving you drowning in it -- the pungent scent of cigarettes seemed to be sewn into the fabric, though you didn’t mind; the sleeves hanging well past your fingers and its length causing some nearly fatal falls. That is, only to your dignity. You had to hike the hem of it up like a ballgown to walk around. Usually, Dio got a kick out of this. He’d snicker to himself, allow his softer side to peek through the cracks as he muttered into your hair: “Looks better on you than it does on me, birdie.” It always made your heart flutter.
Tonight, however, he’s not sparing you a passing glance. No, his eyes and mind are someplace else entirely, brooding away under a proverbial thunder cloud beside you on the couch. He gets like this at times, lost in his own world of grandeur. Any other time you’d leave him be, pry a penny for his thoughts. But as of right now...you’d rather his attention be squarely on you.
“Dio,” you call to your zombified boyfriend. Turning to face him, you gauge no reaction and pout to yourself. You try nudging his foot with yours, perching your chin atop his shoulder and whip out the puppy dog eyes. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”
Finally, he stirs with a sigh, near obsidian eyes catching yours. “Not right now, birdie, ‘m preoccupied.” The hand he rests on your knee as comfort isn’t enough, though. It places an ache in the hollow of your chest when he gets like this, always so engulfed in these dangerous thoughts and ideas about a fresh, new world free of so-called “drones” and their robotic habits. He means well, in his own skewed way. Hell, part of you almost admires it, finds it attractive to see this power hungry leader in him…
Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you eye his open palm at your thigh. You won’t be quitting so easily.
Lips stretch into an impish grin when you lean in further to brush them against the exposed skin of Dio’s neck. “Need a distraction, hm?” His pulse speeds up a little at your gentle ministrations, lined eyes slipping shut. Ah-ha. More kisses slowly meet the warmth of his throat. A soft groan of defeat meets your ears, stirring something deep inside you.
“Mmm, not tonight.” He says at last. The rasp in his voice would make you weak at the knees if you were standing. His thumb begins to trace circles onto your thigh in spite of himself and it causes your heart to mimic the stuttered beat of his own.
Victorious, you smile into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, moving your lips to his ear. “Shane…” you whine.
Dio brings his thumb to a stop, fingers clamping down around your lower thigh. For a moment, your heartbeat pauses, too. You’re met with those piercing eyes that bore into yours, tanned features stony.
“The fuck did you just call me?”
He heard you just fine, you know that. It’s a challenge; you’ve prodded a little too hard. He wants an answer and he wants one now.
Thickly, you swallow the anticipation building in your throat and breathe: “Shane.”
All is quiet then except for your now heavy breathing. Dio’s gone still as a statue for a moment or two. You don’t dare to move, even when he does; rising from his seat your gazes remain locked. His touch has left you but even so you feel a phantom grip...or is that just future bruising?
Raven black hair casts a shadow over his eyes in the dim lighting of your apartment. It makes him look that much more intimidating as he towers over you. “Stand up.” He orders. Your jaw goes slack and you’re a little slow in doing so, because he has to repeat himself. Louder this time. “Stand. Up.”
You jump up like a loaded spring, feeling so much smaller than you normally would when his coat swallows you whole. That won’t be a concern for long, it seems, because Dio’s next command is for you to--
“Take it off.”
No time wasted there. You hurriedly slip black leather from your shoulders and toss it aside which seems to please him. He’s smiling darkly and fuck, it’s so hot.
“Atta girl,” Praise is sweet like honey rolling off his tongue, sending your heartbeat skyrocketing. You fear he can hear its rhythmic thrum as he saunters closer to where you stand, awkwardly awaiting him. He’s mere inches from you now and the gentle graze of his hand along your neck, up to your jaw shoots shivers down each one of your vertebrae with a hissing intake of breath. From Dio, only a curt chuckle. He comes in closer still, strong nose drawing a line from your cheek all the way up to your temple as hot breath heats your face. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, birdie, y’know that?
You say nothing at all. God, you just want him to kiss you. Kiss you hard and hot with his knee between your legs and--
A soft flick slices the silence. Then comes a glint of light. He’s taken out his switchblade. Your eyes follow it much to Dio’s amusement and you swear the closer it comes, the louder your pulse becomes. Its point pokes at your jawline, eliciting a sharp gasp. Dio sneers at your reaction. The bastard. He applies pressure -- not enough to break skin but just enough to get his point across. It moves down across your neck, follows the curvature of your collarbone…
“Bet you’d be even prettier with my name carved into your skin, hm? That way you won’t forget it…” His knife stops at the neckline of your shirt. That made your breath snag in your throat, eyes growing wide. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time he’d suggested something so...dissenting to say the very least. You got high off of the rush of being with him; on the run, hand in hand, just the two of you in a parallel world of your own where glares and expectations didn’t mean a damn thing. You were fearless at his side, proud to be the one and only person in this world he so detested he trusted to bring it down with him.
Chest heaving, you nod. Dio flashes a wicked grin and in one swift movement, slices your shirt open one button at a time until you’re exposed to the air, raising goosebumps on your torso. A large hand at your waist, you hear your boyfriend mumble “Fuck it,” as he pockets his blade and pulls you to him, mouths colliding. His free hand dives into your hair and you groan into his hungry lips, each kiss more fervent than the last. You trail your hands down the expanse of his chest and start to tug at his shirt. His skin is hot and smooth to the touch — you want to feel him flush to you, skin to skin, sweat mingling. You revel in feeling his firm torso as he does yours, fingers slipping beneath your open shirt while the cool metal of his rings shock you with chills. Dio damn near rips it from you, and to be honest he might as well now that it’s been rendered useless. Onto the floor it goes. You’re eager for his to join it, roaming higher up and looking for permission with your tongue to deepen your kiss when your wrists are grabbed and your lip is between his teeth.
You’re both breathing like you’ve run a marathon. He’s hardly done anything to you and already you feel a familiar heat begin to bloom where you need him most. He’s staring at you with such a hunger it’s hard to control yourself.
You part your lips to beg, “Di—“
He’s taken your flushed cheeks into his hands, running a thumb along your lower lip. “Shh, shh, shhh…” A laugh sounds in his chest when again, you impatiently tug at his shirt, and shakes his head. “Not yet, birdie.”
Your eyes close as he leans in, bites at your earlobe, wraps a hand around your throat. Christ, his voice alone can soak you, but this…?
“You’re gonna get on your fuckin’ knees...and youre gonna worship me.” Those words are breathed hotly into your ear and you nearly collapse then and there. He’s so close you can feel the growing bulge in his pants poking at you. Dio squeezes your neck — just a bit — and pulls you from your thoughts. “Do I gotta repeat myself?”
You hold his gaze like it’s fucking magnetic and quickly nod.
“Good.”
And he shoves you to your knees.
You busy yourself with undoing his studded belt and ridding him of his dark jeans and boxers. His cock stands tall, presenting his Prince Albert piercing proudly. You take him in your hands and feel him twitch in your grasp, working up his shaft slowly and kissing the underside, licking a stripe up to the head. He growls deliciously from above you and weaves needy fingers into your hair, a wordless hurry up. You place a kiss at the tip and rub your thumb over its opening. Suddenly, he knots his digits into your hair and tugs. You only wince and give him a squeeze at the base before taking his length into your mouth, tasting him, hot and salty against your tongue, then in your throat as he thrust in with a snap of his hips, causing you to gag. You begin to suck him off, taking your time, raking your tongue along the underside. Dio’s throaty groans fuel the fire already burning between your legs, driving your desire to drag them out of him.
“Fuck, baby, shit — you’re so good…fuckin’ suck me dry...”
Your hands grip his thighs, nails creating half moons as they dig into his skin, his grip in your hair making your scalp burn and you moan around his cock. Your tongue runs along a particular vein when you remove your lips, pulling it away and ever so slightly grazing your teeth there. Dio tugs tighter in time with a beautiful stuttered sound of approval that dampens your underwear even further. You yearn so badly for some form of contact there to ease that primal ache, hand moving downward between your legs. He’s far too lost in his own pleasure to realize, right?
Wrong.
Those fingers untangle themselves from your mess of hair and wrap around your jaw with force, jerking your attention upwards, lips and chin glistening with your own spit.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His chiding takes a dangerous tone that makes your blood icy and your growing need hotter. “Make me cum with that mouth of yours ‘n I’ll think about giving you what you want.” A light slap lands on your cheek as your cue to continue.
Again, you take him right down to the hilt, nose nestled in dark curls as you moan around the most sensitive part of him. Dio rolls his hips deliciously into the heat of your mouth, giving you hardly any time to relax your throat. You’re given no choice but to find your rhythm and find it fast while your throat is fucked with such a vigor. Your nipples are growing harder and your pussy wetter by the minute, breathing raggedly through your nose and it doesn’t help with the filthy obscurities spilling from your boyfriend’s mouth:
“Ah, shit, baby, that’s it — that’s it...fuck! Pretty little mouth feels so fuckin’ good…! Mm—“ He rambles on like that for a few minutes more, you don’t think you can take the persistent urge in your abdomen much longer.
Dio takes another painful fistful of your hair, thrusts becoming erratic until coming to a sudden stop as relief finds him and shoots down your throat, flooding your tongue with the taste of him. “Fuuuuck,” rumbles from his chest, fingers loosening. “Good…that’s my good girl.”
You swallow what you can, though stray drops leave your lips and dribble down your chin when you pull away. Your hand raises to wipe it clean when it’s caught by a larger one adorned with rings. Dio pulls you from your knees and tugs you into him with a satisfied smirk and swipes his thumb across your chin, collecting his cum and pushing it past your swollen lips. You get the message and wrap them around it, swirl your tongue to clean it all.
Gently, he cups your face with that same hand as though he hadn’t just fucked your face breathless and holds your stare. His eyes have taken on a much warmer hue, one that reminds you of molten dark chocolate. “Hey,” he murmurs. You feel the hand at the small of your back travel up your spine and unclasp your bra. The straps fall from your shoulders and Dio tosses it behind him carelessly. It’s not the first time you’ve been exposed to him this way, but you can’t help but feel heat in your cheeks (among other areas) with the way those attentive eyes devour your half naked frame. His lips press firmly against yours, tongue delving into your mouth to taste himself. You mewl against him and reach to tug him closer still but to your dismay, he’s retreated. “Go ahead ‘n lay down for me, birdie.”
What choice do you have other than to oblige?
Still dressed in your jeans and underwear, you find your way to your couch and lay back longways, feeling bashful as you awkwardly strike what’s meant to be a sexy pose. Dio chuckles at this, clearly endeared, but even clearer are his intentions for you. He hasn’t forgotten the promise he’d made, retrieving his switch. You swallow to see him towering over you and moisten your cotton-filled throat at the sight of him now tugging off his thread-worn shirt. God, he was pretty. The many scars strewn about his torso always did remind you of incomplete constellations, waiting to be connected by your tender touch, dotted with kisses. You’re about to complain about your current state of dress when he leans over you, chains dangling, to do away with your pants with a rough tug, taking your underwear down with them. You’re embarrassed at the gasp this causes until you’re face to face with Dio again, his weight on his palms resting beside your arms, knees on either side of your leg with one in between.
“Now, let’s see…” He drawls, knife glinting in low light as it’s brought down to the tendons in your neck. No pressure, but the touch of it alone in your skin is enough to send a current racing through you. His eyes admire the view of you as they search, tongue swiping across his lips and settles on a spot above your left breast. “…Here?” A kiss lands there and you’re sure he felt your heart leap. You make a small noise in your throat. “What was that?”
The way he looks up at you through dark lashes makes you melt. You can only nod. His smile in return is wicked.
Dio adds pressure to the point of the blade and drags it down, creating a crisp line of crimson. You suck in a breath when the pain hits, dragging his gaze up to you to confirm you’re alright. You give yourself a moment and nod again, toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck to prod him along. So he continues, completing the first letter and allowing you a break after each one. It stings, but it hurts so good and goddammit you love the idea of being marked by him as much as he does. His tongue laps at the drops of blood flowing down your breast, his cock erect and twitching as he relishes in the metallic taste. He then circles your nipple, flicks it with the tip of his tongue and takes it between skilled lips and sucks lightly. You whine and press your head back against the arm of the couch, slicker still in your sensitive folds as he expertly teases you. He massages the one left unattended with warm fingers, tweaking the bud between his index finger and thumb. Your fingernails scratch behind his neck and he hums at the sensation, drawing one from you, too, in harmony.
He pulls back, kissing your lips this time, accepting your tongue when you offer it. The taste of your blood still resides and it turns you on even more (as if that were possible). Your arms encircle him, locked lips and lingering blood making your mind hazy, calves hooking around his waist. You want him as close as humanly possible. You need him. He knows what he does to you and he fucking loves it. No matter how much you whine, so do you.
“Aw,” huffs Dio, his fringe tickling your forehead. “You a little needy, sweetheart?”
You push your lip out at him, deflating and he laughs. The rare sound of it makes your stomach flip. In response, you move your hips against him, desperate for any kind of friction there.
Dio flips his switchblade closed and with it still in hand, lowers it, pressing the handle into your clit in tiny circles.
Surprised, you cry out with eyes screwed shut, your back creating an arch, breasts pressing against the firmness of your boyfriend’s chest. “Ohh…” you whimper pathetically. “Dio.” To which he chuckles and cruelly stops the movement to do away with the weapon. You want to beg him again, you know damn well that’s what he wants to hear, but his fingers dip back down and one sinks into you. “Oh!” You could cry at how good that felt, grabbing his shoulder blades and burying your face into his neck.
“Oh, birdie,” he croons, moving his finger out and then back in, then again. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, aren’t you?” In contrast with the tone he’s taken, Dio’s hand moves harsher now, his palm coming into contact with your clit every time he enters you knuckle-deep, slow but shallow. He groans appreciatively as his hand becomes slick and nips at your neck. You swear your grip on him could draw blood; you nearly sob as he fingers you so fucking good, feeding what’s been stirring inside you for what feels like ages now. “I know, baby, I know…” There’s a pause, but only for a moment, so he can add a second and curls the two; the pads of his fingers strike a spot inside you akin to lighting a fuse. He picks up the pace now, sharp jaw of his taut in focus. Until now, you’ve been so deprived, that red hot ball of pressure has gone white — you’re going to snap, you’re going to…
He stops. That bastard, he stops. Right when you’re at the edge. You whimper up at him to see the same fingers in his mouth, tasting you as you had him.
“Mmm…” He hums, making your cheeks heat up, moving to hover above you. Your noses brush, broad hands once again exploring your body — soon to be scars of his name — and he kisses you again. And again. And again.
“Baby,” you manage between kisses, pulling him nearer behind his neck. “Please.”
Dio stops at your throat, wrapping fingers around it with a harsh squeeze. “Say it.” It’s a demand, not a request. He lowers his tone to a low whisper, “I want…to hear how you want me to fuck you. Tell me.”
Your breaths have gone uneven again, shallow with his hand around your neck. “Dio—I-I want you to…please make me cum.” Dizzy. Your vision’s a blur of red and pure lust.
He only grips harder. “You want me to fuck you so fuckin’ hard you remember my name like the slut you are, hm? That what you wanted all along?”
You squeak out your response, practically writing: “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
His lips quirk and he takes a moment to properly align himself, pressing the head in slowly, sweetly in a hiss of breath when he’s fully sheathed.
The noise you make is shameless, only to be cut off when Dio enters you again with his fingers around your windpipe, free hand tangled with yours. His movements are rough and quick and just what you wanted. His cock fills you perfectly, deliciously despite the crass sounds filling your small apartment.
“You look so. Fucking. Good like this for me, birdie,” His thrusts punctuate each word, hips meeting yours every time as he fills you up fully, muscles in his arm flexing. “Got my name on you so everyone can see you’re mine,” he growls. “You love my hand around your throat, sweetheart, I know you do…so pretty…so fuckin’ pretty for me…” He’s glowing with a thin layer of sweat and looking so beautiful as he fucks you into the cushions, hair in his eyes that never once leave yours. The pain etched onto your chest, the pleasure and pressure building, all for him, all because of him. You can’t get enough and you don’t know if you ever will.
“Dio, I-I want to…ah! K-kiss you…”
He leans into the pull of your hand behind his neck, abandoning your hand to haul you flush to him. You grip his shoulders and he kisses you hotly with an open mouth, swallowing your sounds as you do his; they’re addictive to taste, to hear — knowing he wants to give himself all to you, too. Rebuild a world with you. Dio turns your head to the side, hissing into your ear: “Turn around.”
So you do, him inside you as you maneuver onto your knees. Dio’s hand doesn’t leave your neck, his chest to your back and hips snapping back into motion, smacking your ass as he fucks you mercilessly. His words form between clenched teeth and animalistic growls, able to now bite and suck at your neck at this angle. Now, his cock is able to hit just where you need it to. Your mouth is agape and when his fingers again find your clit you’re unable to hide your sob.
“D-Dio—! God, I’m going to—!”
They leave that bundle of nerves as quick as they’d found it, instead cracking his open palm against your ass. “What was that, baby? Hm?” His fingers are for sure leaving bruises at your neck.
Your moan is loud though it strains from the pressure and he fucking revels in feeling the vibrations. “Ah, fuck, Dio I’m gonna c-cum! Please, please, baby…!” Roughly, he runs circles into your clit. That’s what pushes you over the edge and you scream what he’s wanted you to all along. “Dio!” Your orgasm shakes you as you come undone around him; his arms hold you up and he fucks you through it. You’re an incoherent mess, oversensitive, dazed and then Dio follows suit with a strangled groan of your name.
His hand falls and the two of you linger in the moment, breathing each other’s scent. Dio peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses and lays you down over him, couch cushions sinking beneath your combined weight. You feel languid and heavy and at peace all at once, hearing Dio’s heartbeat as you lay there perfectly content on his chest, a mess of tangled limbs and hips fitting together like a puzzle. His lips are at your forehead, fingers drawing patterns on your bare back. You’re about to fall asleep when…
“Birdie,”
“Hm…?”
“We oughta patch that up, don’t you think?”
“Huh?” Your eyes fall to where his name now sits on your breast. “Oh…” You chuckle lazily.
So does he.
“Looks good on you.”
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Standards of Performance, Chapter 9: Hesitancy
From the Beginning, Previous Chapter
AO3 Link
Changing the chapter naming scheme; my brain can't handle two-word summaries anymore. This one is a lil short but very soft and I promise relationship progress is made. As always, I hope you love it. <3
Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?
Chapter Summary: “Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.
“Why would it?”
Words: 1962
Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.
Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You
There was no way in hell you could go into work today.
You didn’t actually have a choice, which is why you’d driven there. But you simply couldn’t command your feet to walk you into that office, towards the teams’ inquisitive stares and deductive skills that were closer to mind-reading than you were entirely comfortable with. You’d adjusted and re-adjusted your lipgloss several times over in the mirror, brushed through your hair, and even though you knew there was no way the team could know what happened 20 minutes ago in the park, you felt like you might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said “Aaron Hotchner and I Just Kissed (On the Lips).”
So you were holed up in the parking garage of the FBI in your piece of shit 2007 Toyota Camry. Stalling.
You sighed when you felt your phone buzz, knowing what the notification was. You were only seven minutes late, but seven minutes was eight too many in Hotch’s book. You checked the message.
Hotch: Please come inside.
So he knew you were hiding out, then. You sighed and slammed the car door, trudging up the stairwell and into the building.
Exiting the elevator to your floor, you paused outside of the frosted glass doors leading to the BAU and tried to still your breathing. Despite Hotch’s apparent instant regret and quick departure occupying the forefront of your mind, you still couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect that kiss had been. The part of you that wasn’t filled with panic about his reaction was squealing like a little kid at the confirmation that holy shit, he liked you too. You took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of professionalism and composure you could muster, and walked in.
You made it less than halfway to your desk.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa; don’t just walk in here like I’m gonna let that slide.” Morgan swung his legs off his desk and stood up in front of you. “Every day you get in at least ten minutes early and now you’re walking in late looking like you got something to hide. Spill it.”
Your open-mouthed gaping by way of response was blissfully interrupted by Hotch calling your name from the balcony overlooking the bullpen.
“Garcia needs your help finishing up reports. Meet her in her office.”
You shrugged to Morgan. “Duty calls. Sorry!”
“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy!” he called after you as you scampered towards the safety of Garcia’s tech lair.
You knocked on her door, and she greeted you with her standard excess of enthusiasm.
“Come in! I’m just going through my keylogs for the past few cases and filling out reports of every database I had to access less-than-legally.” She shot you an evil grin. “Which is a lot. You can help me by typing up the information into the actual reports on your computer.”
Just happy to be away from the teams’ prying eyes, especially a certain someone’s, you nodded. “Let’s do it.”
***
Not half an hour had passed when Garcia swiveled towards you in her chair, clutching her pink feathered pen with a knowing glint in her eyes. “So. Tell me.”
“What?” you asked, trying to hide your shock with feigned innocence.
“Oh, honey, come on. I may not be a profiler, but I’ve picked up a couple things throughout the years. And I can tell something’s up.”
“God damn it,” you groaned and laid back in your chair. “I thought this was a no-profiling zone.”
She smiled even wider, if that was possible. “It is. But for you, my dear, I have made an exception.”
“Did Morgan put you up to this?”
“He may have possibly texted me telling me that you were late this morning.”
You rolled your eyes.
“But you’re never late! Even I know that! So -” she scooted closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “- spill.”
Sighing, you weighed your options. The last thing you wanted to do was create drama and jeopardize your position, much less Hotch’s reputation, but you were itching to tell someone - if only to get their opinion on the matter. And it wasn’t as if you had anyone else to talk to…
“Fine!”
Garcia rapidly motioned her hands to signify you to continue.
“But you can’t tell anybody, okay? I’m serious, Penelope.”
“Not even-”
“Especially not Morgan.”
She pouted but reluctantly agreed, and you took a deep breath and told her everything.
How you’d developed an innocent crush at first, how it had spiraled out of control, how you’d visited his apartment and he’d told you about his past, and finally, how he’d kissed you in the park just that morning. You stopped, awaiting her reaction, but she was uncharacteristically silent.
“...Garcia?”
She cleared her throat and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, are we talking about Aaron Hotchner, like Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, like boss man Aaron Hotchner? Mr. Grumpy? Never smiles, always wears a suit, carries the weight of the world on his sculpted shoulders?”
You glared, waiting for her to finish.
“I’m sorry,” she giggled, “It’s just -” her voice softened, “- in the whole time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him act like that. Bring someone coffee, breakfast, open up to them. The whole bit.”
Your heart fluttered more than you’d like to admit at that.
“Listen,” she continued, “I don’t have to tell you that life has not been kind to that man. And I’m not gonna give you the stupid speech about dating an older man or dating your boss, because I don’t give a shit. But I will tell you - he’s been through enough. So if this isn’t what you want, back out now.”
Her tone was kind, but the seriousness of her message was evident. You nodded in understanding.
“I get it, but I don’t think he’s the one that’s gonna end up getting hurt here.”
“Well, hopefully nobody will get hurt and you’ll both ride off into the sunset together. But you gotta talk to him first.” She ignored your pained groan. “I’m serious! Nothing good is going to come out of you guys dancing around this. People act really stupid when they’re pretending they’re not in love with each other.”
Cocking your eyebrow, you shot back, “Kinda like you and Morgan?”
She flushed scarlet and waggled her ostentatious pen in your direction. “Touché.”
***
The thought of being emotionally vulnerable to Hotch made you more nauseous than you’d like to admit, but the more you mulled over it, the more you realized Garcia was right. Hotch knew how you felt - your fervent response to the kiss had made that abundantly clear - so what did you have to lose, really?
(Besides your career and the respect of your boss, but you tried not to consider that possibility).
He’d kissed you, you reminded yourself as you tried to focus on reports.
He cares about you, you recited like a mantra as you waited for the workday to end.
He’s twice your age and a widower with a dead kid and your Unit Chief, you panicked in the bathroom as you avoided the knowing eyes of the rest of the team.
Still, 6 pm limped in eventually and you bid everyone a good night from your desk as they filtered out. Hotch, unsurprisingly, was not among them. You planned to wait until you two were alone in the office so you could approach him undisturbed.
What you didn’t expect was just how late he worked - it was nearly 9 by the time he locked up his office, briefcase in hand, and turned to see you still sitting at your desk.
“Oh,” he said. You tried to decipher the tone of the syllable - surprised? Pleased? Indifferent? But came up short.
“I thought we could talk,” you offer cautiously.
“About wha-” he began, then seemed to think better of pretending he didn’t know and sighed. “You’re right. We should.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “I wanted to apologize for my actions this morning. I took advantage of a situation where you felt comfortable spending time with me outside of the office, and I should have never let it get that far. If you want to speak to Strauss about transferring units, I completely understand.”
You gaped at him. Was it truly possible for a man this astute, this in-tune with human behavior, to be this stupid?
“Is that what you think this is?” you asked, practically launching yourself out of your seat from the sheer force of your bewilderment. “You think you took advantage of me? That I just went along with it because you’re my boss or something?”
The barely concealed shame in his eyes answered not only that question, but also the one you’d asked yourself beforehand - no, Hotch wasn’t stupid. He was broken. He was filled with so much self-hatred that the only explanation he could concoct as to why you were spending so much time with him was the one where you were trying to avoid offending your creepy, older boss. The realization filled you with such heartbreak that you nearly choked on your next words.
“Aaron,” you started, and it was strange how well a name you’d never before dared to say fit in your mouth, “I’ve -”
Don’t say loved.
“- liked you since that case in San Diego. I don’t know how you haven’t figured that out, considering the fact that I wake up an hour early every morning - I hate mornings, by the way - to get coffee with you. But I like you. And I know for a fact you feel the same way, so don’t try to pretend like you did after the bar.”
The number of times Hotch had been rendered speechless in his lifetime could be counted on one hand, and this made the list. You waited for him to respond, and he did, finally, in the most muted voice you’d ever heard him use.
“It isn’t right.”
“Please,” you implored, taking a step closer to him. “Don’t do that. You’re not going to talk me out of this, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to talk yourself out of it too.”
“I’m your Unit Chief,” he said, his voice regaining the power that usually accompanied that statement, “and I’m old enough to be your father.”
“And I’m an adult fully capable of making her own decisions,” you responded.
“The practicalities; they’d be a mess. Informing the Bureau, the team…”
“Would I have to quit my internship?” you asked, your only genuine hesitancy surrounding the situation.
“Well, no,” he shook his head slowly, “but we'd be subject to a much higher level of scrutiny.”
“I’m prepared to be scrutinized.”
“Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.
“Why would it?”
He didn’t say anything, but you could tell what he was thinking. A man like him, someone who carried more than a few lifetimes of trauma and guilt, wasn’t someone to get involved with on a whim - for both of your sakes. This was more so the concern, you suspected, than anything he’d already mentioned.
“I know what I’m getting into, Hotch. I’m not expecting this to be easy.”
“Well, I -” he shifted uncomfortably, more visibly nervous than you’d ever seen him. “Can I least give you time to think about it?”
“Doubt I’ll be able to think about anything else,” you teased, and, with a sudden surge of courage, you stepped forward on your tiptoes to plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek.
The flush that spread up his neck was, decidedly, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
Taglist: @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 (Message me if you want to be added!)
#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#Criminal Minds#hotch x you#standards of performance#hotch#thomas gibson#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid#mgg#david rossi#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#derek morgan#penelope garcia#fanfiction#writing#ao3
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qijiu bingqiu (bingliushen??) fix-it fic planning blabber
so i think i gotta keep it tight on SJ’s POV. Right before his death, he makes a deal with Xin Mo (who’s kind of a lone operator bc LBH too has to fight its power) to create this alternate timeline in exchange for his cultivation. Xin Mo can open up new dimensions no problem, and with SJ’s cultivation, it even manages to rewind the timeline. That’s not enough though—Xin Mo’s goal is only consumption, so it takes the deal but reveals there’s nothing that will actually change. The price SJ paid only opened the door.
But that’s fine, ‘cause SJ saw it coming. He also strikes another deal, this time with Death itself? Some sort of large cosmic force. The only thing he wants changed is Qi-ge’s death, and in exchange...the universe takes him. SJ will not get to exist in that second universe. SJ takes the deal.
And that’s the start of canon. SJ-as-SQQ can no longer exist. Instead, SY-as-SQQ is brought in. In order to stay cohered though, YQY’s memories and personality get a little glitched—he is physically incapable of recognizing all the ways SQQ is now not SJ. That’s why, despite SY-as-SQQ clearly being OOC, YQY never seems to see it.
Canon happens, now we’re in the post-canon world where bingqiu are married and settling down, but SQQ still kicks it with his buddies LQG and YQY every now and then. YQY still firmly believes SQQ is SJ, to SY’s increasing consternation. Is it just delusions and wishful thinking? The more YQY treats him as SJ though, the worse SY feels—he shouldn’t be stealing all this affection that doesn’t belong to him.
It all comes to head when SQQ overhears public opinion on YQY, how he’s perfect in everything but his crazy devotion to SQQ. SY thinks enough is enough. He can’t bring SJ back but he sure can tell YQY that his Xiao Jiu is dead, right? The System warns him he’ll be punished but that’s fine, it’s just not fair, SQQ can take another little mental horror trip down to BinggeLand if it means YQY can have some closure.
Except that’s not what happens. He gets YQY in private and says, “no, you don’t understand, Shen Jiu is dead.” He sees the recognition in YQY’s eyes, but he also sees the moment that recognition gets wiped. The sad smile that had fallen off of YQY’s face returns, eerily happy, as YQY says, “my apologies, Qingqiu-shidi, I must have spaced out just now, what did you say?”
Right before the System kicks him into another punishment phase, SY tries again: “Shen Jiu is dead!” He sees the recognition disappear once again from YQY’s eyes.
Inside the punishment world, Bingge has him again. “I’ve been searching for an answer to why the sniveling pathetic version of me gets you as his Shizun, and I think I figured it out.” For a moment, SY’s horrified by the possibility that Bingge has figured out his transmigrator status—if his punishment figures it out, would he be trapped inside the punishment forever? But instead, Bingge says, “Liu Qingge is still alive, meaning Shizun didn’t kill him in the spirit caves. Did his survival render such a dramatic change?” SQQ”s like “yup, yup that’s definitely it. We’re such good friends, he really changed my outlook on life, so I treated you better, mhm.”
“Shizun’s very clever then to save his own life this way. Xin Mo’s already told me about your little bargain.”
That’s how SY learns that SJ had made a deal. Holy shit, he’d thought it was just random phenomenon this whole time, but the original goods had made it all possible? He didn’t know whether to thank SJ or curse him.
But that can’t be the whole story—Xin Mo opened up a timeline, that doesn’t explain why SY is here. Bingge doesn’t know this part, but it sure feels like SJ made a second deal, paying with his life.
What would motivate the original goods to do all this? Sacrifice his hard-won cultivation and his entire existence in this last-ditch effort?
The memory of YQY’s glitching came to mind.
Holy shit. SY owns the two of them more than he’d ever thought.
After the punishment, SY goes back home. He’s with Binghe, and LBH can tell there’s something troubling him.
“Binghe, there’s something this husband wants to do, and I need your help to do it.”
“Shizun, anything.”
“...But there’s a risk it might hurt you. There’s a risk it might ruin everything. It might be straight-forward, but it also might not be. It’s safer for all of us—but especially you, Binghe—if I just let things be.”
“But it’s not something that Shizun can just let be, is it? Otherwise Shizun wouldn’t have said anything. Binghe is honored to help. Anything to ease Shizun’s mind.”
“...I promised I wouldn’t let you come to harm again, and I meant that. Whatever happens, remember that I am your husband, this is my call, and you must do whatever you need to do to protect yourself, okay? Swear to me, Binghe.”
SQQ begins figuring out how to use Xin Mo to go fetch SJ from the other timeline. He figures that if Bingge could exist in this dimension without destroying the space-time continuum, the same ought to be true for SJ. Only trouble is, he can only go get SJ after SJ’s made the deals, because otherwise it’s a paradox, and he wouldn’t exist.
So SQQ brings home limbless, post-torture!SJ. That’s where the fic starts.
By all accounts, the deals are squared: SJ no longer has cultivation and SJ died in SY’s dimension, so SY successfully exists. SJ and SY can exist in the same space totally fine, and SJ begins healing.
(Currently, the fic is completely from SJ’s POV, and very much about coming to terms with being saved and what the hell is going on in this better world.)
The trouble is, SY doesn’t know what’s going to happen when SJ meets YQY again. SJ very thoroughly declines the offer to go see YQY because part of SJ still believes this whole thing is a trick, and if he goes to see YQY he’ll ruin his end of the bargain and YQY will die again. For SY’s part, he’s afraid of SJ going to see YQY too for similar but opposite reasons—if SJ going to see YQY ruins SJ’s end of the bargain, then wouldn’t that mean SY can no longer exist? Would SY just disappear from this universe?
So we get ragtag group therapy fun times. SJ thinks this is probably all an illusion Xin Mo is tricking him with, so treats everything with scorn but also existential apathy. This actually works to his benefit because he’s not clinging to things as hard, and it’s easier for him to admit, for example, that he was definitely in the wrong for abusing LBH, and yeah he was being a spiteful bitch when he did not need to be.
SY tries to keep LBH away from SJ mostly, because c’mon, he’s not about to make his darling husband face his childhood abuser. He does explain the situation to LBH though, in the same terms that Bingge had (mis)understood it lmfao—that the act of saving LQG’s life had prompted an entire 180 on his personality so he came out of the spirit caves a better man. LBH’s jealous as fuck of course, but damn if that doesn’t explain some things. Given the opportunity to see his old and new Shizun side-by-side, LBH takes it, and really gets a moment to see how horribly he’s been treated by SQQ.
So it actually prompts some therapy between SY and LBH too. LBH used to figure that getting pushed into the Abyss was squared by SQQ sacrificing himself to save him. But ofc it turned out SQQ came back and kept on, in his perspective, trying to get away from him. Trying to leave him behind. SQQ’s tried to treat his abandonment issues by going “okay sorry about that I’ll never leave you behind again” but he’s never really explained it.
SJ’s presence gives Binghe the ability to ask the question again and gives SY an answer: shame and cowardice. They’re able to put SJ’s mistreatment of Binghe right in front of them and SY-as-SQQ gets to explain how much it hurt to look back on that bit of their past, but also how much he feared LBH's retaliation. LBH is a little hurt, but also he remembers how he’d raped SQQ under Xin Mo’s control and, looking at what’s left of SJ now, he sees his own darkest possibilities. He really did destroy the man he loves now in another timeline. That helps him contextualize SY’s fears and why SY chose to push him off the cliff.
LQG crashlands into the middle of this whole party as is his wont. He gets a little fix-it too maybe. SY very staunchly repeats the reason for his personality swap—saving LQG in that cave made him a Better Person™. Meeting the original goods again, LQG is forced to believe it. Or like, it doesn’t really matter to him either way, but now he really does see pre-cave SQQ and post-cave SQQ as two completely different people.
SJ though, has to swallow this really weird pill. He remembers trying to save LQG inside the cave but failing, and then getting blamed for LQG’s death. If he’d succeeded, he and LQG would’ve become...this close?? A life debt between them would’ve changed his outlook on life so much???
Well whatever. Now that he’s put down all his old posturing, he more readily gives his reasons for why LQG gets on his nerves so much: the insufferable confidence (arrogant prick), the skills to back it up (privileged bastard), and a flawless cultivator family with all the money and the training and the pedigree. (Meanwhile SY’s like “oh shit that’s me too hahahahah awkward, good thing he still thinks i’m him so he doesn’t just murder me immediately.)
LQG’s a little weirded out too. SY-as-SQQ is his favorite person in the world, so it’s hard to get angry at SJ-as-SQQ since they’re “the same person.” He’s more willing to talk all this out with SJ and brings up all their old beef on his side too: high-handed snootiness coupled with underhanded dick moves, also the whole sleeping-with-prostitutes thing hurting Cang Qiong’s reputation. Ofc they’re snapping at each other this whole time. “There’s no reason for you to do all that!”
SY intervenes if needed. “Actually there is.” Considering the fact that SJ gets indicted for so many things that actually turn out to be not his fault, SY figures he’ll just get it out there. “Remember Qiu Haitang’s accusations against me? I grew up a slave in that household. I grew up believing it was kill or be killed—it doesn’t make sabotaging others right, but...that’s why the Spirit Caves made such an impression on me. I learned it wasn’t just kill or be killed, I can also save people. It opened my eyes to everything I already had, and everything I should be grateful for.”
This is for both LQG and SJ. And it works, to some degree. SJ knows he managed to claw to the top of privilege, but he still felt horribly insecure there. That’s because, he realizes, he never got the thing that would actually grant him security. It's not power or money or reputation—it’s Qi-ge. Holy hell he misses Qi-ge. In anger and betrayal, he’d pushed YQY continuously out of his life, but when faced with certain death the only regret he actually had was bringing Qi-ge down with him. YQY was meant to have survived, and in this world, he did.
So now, after all that, SJ really, really wants to go see his Qi-ge. It’s nice to have survived (and gotten part of his power back—at the very beginning, SY gives one of SQQ’s eyes to SJ as a bit of his golden core in order to save SJ’s life), but it’s so damn hard to live on in this world knowing YQY is only so far away, still very deeply attached to Xiao Jiu.
They try to Cyrano it at first. SY-as-SQQ goes to YQY with SJ’s voice in his ear, telling SY how to treat YQY as him. YQY is so fucking touched and hopeful, and SY is damn uncomfortable. He goes running back to SJ and says it’s not going to work—it’s not going to work because he’s no longer Qi-ge’s Xiao Jiu. He’s Luo Binghe’s husband, okay? He can’t go back to YQY as SJ.
SJ’s fucking furious at first (what kind of shitty variation of himself saves LQG’s life and then falls out of love with Qi-ge???? bitch?????) but what can he do? LQG tells them YQY’s on his way here and SJ hides for now. They still don’t know what will happen if SJ meets YQY, so SY continues to front as SJ for now.
But during this conversation, something changes. Maybe YQY says something, but SJ realizes he’s actually a little willing to take this chance. If Qi-ge does disappear—easy, he’d just kill himself right after. He’d already experienced Qi-ge’s death twice before, and at least this time, he can follow, knowing he’s at least reconciled with Qi-ge through SY.
And if he disappears on his own, then at least he knows there’s a world in which Qi-ge does not die horribly. That’s enough for him.
That, however, leaves the very last possibility—that SY will disappear. At this point both LQG and LBH have figured this out, and are very, very reluctant to let this be the scenario. They don’t see it as two people, they see it as their version of SQQ vs. YQY’s version of SQQ.
So there’s a little tension, but in the end, SY gets the final choice. As soon as he learns SJ is willing to go see YQY, he chooses that path. He simply owes qijiu too much to deny them the possibility of reconciliation. So despite knowing he might disappear from Binghe and LQG’s life, he makes it happen.
(They should get a very painful goodbye scene.)
SY goes out to explain things. “Zhangmen-shixiong may have noticed my change since my qi deviation and the spirit caves.” “I’m happy Xiao Jiu has a brighter outlook on life.” “Yes, but I think Qi-ge, of all people, might actually prefer how I was before, right?” “If Xiao Jiu’s happy, I’m happy.” “Yes, but Shen Jiu wants you. Is that alright?” “—of course. I want Xiao Jiu too—”
SJ comes out. Everyone holds their breath.
Scene cut.
It’s said that Cang Qiong’s Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan disappeared suddenly one afternoon...
But jk, YQY just ran away with SJ, they’re recuperating in the mountains and everybody’s fine and it’s a happy ending.
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i just gotta
so
im watching fantasy high s2 on dropout right? binging it over a month so i only have to pay 5$?
the beginning of episode 6 (pirate brawl) is without a doubt the most secondhand embarrassment i have felt in my entire life OW that shit dealt me 8d10 psychic damage holy shit
other highlights (*spoilers obvs*)
every single pirate name including but not limited to
old young benjamin
chungle-down bim (short for bimothy)
creaky mcbarrel
*a bunch of pirates chanting around fabian* RELIVE YOUR TRAUMA! RELIVE YOUR TRAUMA!
fabian for once in his life being completely honest with the warlocks and it not being enough OWWWWW
“this is worse than the ribbon dance”
lou, desperately holding back laughter: “Alright, follow me! We’re gonna jump on ‘em, and we’re gonna murder ‘em!”
“Are you laughing about how you’re about to die?”
the hangvan: “old skull and bones just skoodalooded outta here pretty toasty”
gorgug:
“can I slap him to see if anything magical jostles inside him?” WHY
*mumbles in new englander* itsnotaropeitsalinewhenitsonaship
brennan, zac, emily, I need you to know that that is NOT how ropes work in ANY circumstance
22 rounds of combat.........god.
I WILL PAY FOR ALL YOUR SPELLS!!! I HAVE UNLIMITED MONEY!!!!
WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MY FRIENDS????
I had the thought at some point during the fight on the crow’s nest*: “oh, this fight is Fabian’s Battle of Fort Necessity” (Washington’s first battle as commander, when he was a complete novice, resulting in the slaughter of his troops and a disastrous surrender that helped spark a whole ass war)
the revenge of chungle-down bim!!!
brian taking his glasses off over and over as more terrible things happen - I’ve legit never seen him w/out glasses before it is frightening
the energy around the table as everyone’s extremely cool and helpful abilities are just rendered null and void to help them save fabian was. horrifying. the tension was unbearable it felt like the same energy as when aguefort shoots mr gibbons then himself but in a less good way omg i seriously had the thought of ‘brennan can you just call this off????? make it better pls?????’ (and obvs that’s not fair, brennan as a DM is amazing and I trust him with this kinda shit, but damn)
fabian’s fucking soft, broken voice when everyone finally gets to him...god.
I genuinely think lou wilson almost had a fuckin mental breakdown in this episode. and for good reason! jesus christ. fabian going 85 mph (mistakes per hour)
the hangman acting like a dog comforting fabian was fucking heartwrenchingly cute and it makes what happens to the hangman later in the night so much worse
legit when they were gettin wasted, my first thought was shouldn’t tracker stay sober enough to cast the moon haven and i forget if it was that or if it was that they all immediately took off to save fabian that made it malfunction but holy shit this is the last thing they needed after all that i’m so so so fucking glad that siobhan rolled 2 nat 20s for her portent rolls bc seeing any of that happen to fig or gorgug would have killed me
Garthy O’Brien has now become officially my favorite npc, I fucking love them. if anything happens to them i will kill everyone in this room and then myself
fabian’s worse nightmare being growing up to be like gilear is a lot more terrifying than it sounds like! in concept it sounds really funny! in execution I was so fucking scared!
me watching fantasy high up until this episode: oh i wonder why everyone wants fabriz to happen i mean theyre friends and all but i just don’t see it
me after this episode: oh...
before this i kept seeing all these fuckin music videos getting recommended to me on youtube titled shit like ‘fabian’s breakdown’ and i was like damn what happened? TO LIVE IN THAT BLISSFUL IGNORANCE ONCE MORE
this has to be the WORST night of fig’s fabian’s riz’s ragh’s any of their lives, including prompocalypse, holy shit it never ends
kalina: isn’t it fucked up that aguefort keeps sending children to do horrifying dangerous things for a grade?
me: YEAH IT IS
props to brennan for making the adults that came on this journey as flawed and fallible as the kids
cathilda didn’t say anything to fabian upon finding him, just got him to safety. i honestly think she’s gonna fuckin snap at some point and she deserves to.
the image of adaine somberly pedaling on her Razor scooter across the fuckin crooked busted wooden planks of leviathan like ratatatatata is such a perfect perfect image to end on
*(due to my tragic backstory as someone who once had the entire hamilton soundtrack memorized)
#my Opinions#fantasy high#fantasy high spoilers#d20#dimension 20#dimension 20 spoilers#original post
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What Does The ‘S’ Stand For ? - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader
Summary: When you learn that Leon got the job you desperately wanted you decide to pay him a visit to congratulate him and finally put an end to the competition between the two of you in favour of some cooperation. Turns out, cooperation sometimes involve taking your clothes off.
Author’s Note: Some one-shot involving (pre) RE2 Remake Leon, a very sassy reader and some smut. I haven't written that genre in a while though. Hope I'm not too rusty. And by the way, if you notice some terrible grammatical mistakes please let me know (English is not my mother tongue).
Anyway, I wish you'll like this story and as usual don't forget to like/reblog and tell me what you think about it.
Warning: SMUT and Language. You can also expect some humour and some fluff.
Also available on AO3
Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off.”
Wise words. But clearly Roosevelt never had to compete with Kennedy, and by Kennedy you didn’t mean John F. Kennedy but another Kennedy, one with less charisma yet better hair (hell, got to render unto Caesar what’s Caesar’s), Leon S. Kennedy - ‘S’ probably standing for “sucker” or “saint” in your opinion. After all, the guy was such a goody two-shoes. Teacher’s favourite. Neat and tidy top student. Perfect arbiter of right and wrong. And certainly, the only guy in the academy who didn’t stick his cock in Barbara Johnson’s pussy. Weird since she also had a president’s name just like him. Could have been the perfect opportunity for a horizontal presidential debate.
If it wasn’t clear already, you didn’t like Kennedy very much. But it was not for the reasons mentioned above. No, you could tolerate the fact that he was the embodiment of virtue and morals. What you could not tolerate though, was that he was better than you at everything. At fundamentals, at crime prevention and analysis, at counterintelligence, at physical agility, at shooting, at… well, you get the point. It infuriated you. He infuriated you. You never had the chance to beat him. Never. He was always top of your class and you were always close second.
So of course, when you received the letter from the Raccoon City Police Department informing you that your application had been rejected and that the position had been given to someone else, you did the math.
Only Kennedy could have taken that job away from you. After all, you had heard him talking about Raccoon City at lunch break quite a few times in the past weeks and each time he had sounded so excited – well, as excited as cannibalistic murders can make you of course. Truth is, you had also shown interest in this city the moment its terrible crimes hit the first page of the newspapers alongside the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, collecting every tiny article about it and telling your classmates what a thrilling experience it would be to work on that case. You had even imagined yourself wearing the blue uniform, RPD largely written on your chest, making a report about the rotting body of a camper found in the Arklay mountains.
You sighed, disappointment hitting you hard again. And with a hesitant hand, you knocked at the door in front of you somewhat ready to let go of the competition in favour of some cooperation. You barely waited a couple of seconds before Kennedy opened the door, a cordless telephone against his ear. He appeared genuinely surprised to see you there. “Call you back later, mom.” He said before hanging up the phone, still staring at you with astonished eyes. “Y/N.”
“Telling your mommy about the amazing job you just got?” Your question had sounded more barbed and curter than indented. Bitterness probably. Leon sighed. He knew exactly what you meant. “Look, if it is about Raccoon City…”
“Of course it is about Raccoon City. Why do you think I’m here? To discuss fashion?” You entered his bedsit without asking and looked around you. So well organized and tidy, so military. Pff. Where were the greasy pizza boxes, the nasty underwear on the floor and the bin filled with used tissues all the other guys usually had?
You turned around to face him with a stone cold expression. “I’m guessing you knew I wanted that post.”
“Yeah but…” You cut him off. You couldn’t care less about the thing he wanted to say. “I don’t blame you. Had I been in your place I would have apply for it too. Damn, I even applied without being in your place, so … The point is, I wanted to congratulate you – even if it hurts me to do so – and tell you that I’m glad this competition between the two of us is finally coming to end.” Leon briefly chuckled and kept an amused smile on his face. This wasn’t the kind of words he had expected from you. “Well, thanks I guess.”
“You’re welcome” You dramatically put a hand over your heart “Gosh, it kills me to be so polite to you, Kennedy.” He retained a laugh and you approached him to slam a heavy blue binder against his - surprisingly strong - chest. Wow, muscles! “Take this.” You reluctantly said with a strangled voice as if you were a mother giving up her baby . “Take care of it. It’s the work of a lifetime … sort of.”
Leon furrowed his brows and opened the folder. Inside, there were all the articles you had collected about Raccoon City since the reveal of the incidents to the public eye plus some notes you had written during you personal late-night investigations. Leon skimmed through them. They were incredibly detailed and you could see how impressed he was. Damn, you wished you had your camera to immortalise this moment. “It won’t be of any use to me now. And it took me too much time to just throw it away so have it. Take it as parting gift.”
“Wow, Y/N. I don’t know what to say.” He looked beyond happy. It made you smile. What the hell, Y/N?
“Thank you, maybe?” You swallowed you smile back before he could notice, choosing to replace what could have been something sweet and nice by sarcasm. “Yes, sure.” He grinned. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack so you’re not obliged to say ‘you’re welcome’.” He teased you and as much as you wanted to find the joke lame, you surprisingly found it rather funny.
“Good. Cause that would have been too much for my heart to take in a single day.” He smiled again and this time you couldn’t help but gaze. You were forced to acknowledge he was very cute, handsome even, certainly the kind of guy you would have willingly flirt with if it hadn’t been for the relentless competition between the two of you. “You know it’s nice to see you smile.” Your eyes slightly widened. You had been smiling the whole time? No! “That wasn’t a smile. That was a sneer.” You quickly replied, trying to prevent him from spotting the sudden panic in your eyes.
“Sure.” But yeah, that was definitely a smile and right now your cheeks were burning.
You cleared your throat and looked back upon his face, hoping yours had found back its usual seriousness and scorn. “Well, gotta go. Good riddance, Kennedy. Good luck and try not to screw up.” You proceeded to the door, glad this conversation was over, but Leon was not ready to let you leave just yet. “You know, for me, there was never a competition between us.” You stopped and turned around. “What?” You frowned. “Of course, there was a competition.” He shook his head. “Not for me.”
“Are you telling me that I have deprived myself of sleeping, fallen into coffee addiction and lost my entire social life for two years in the hope of finally beating you at a freaking test while you …” You could tell he was clearly trying not to laugh but his mocking grin was enough to make you blow a fuse. Well, a funny fuse … a funny desperate fuse “No! No!” You repeated, all irritated. “You’re kidding me!” He shrugged, playing all innocent. “Don’t fucking tell me you let me tilt at windmills!” He did. Bastard. Leon - Son of a bitch - Kennedy! That’s what the S stands for. You cursed in your head.
“I tried to tell you …” He started to explain to defend himself. “When?” You harrumphed, almost shouting at him. “Well, many times but …”
“Clearly not enough times.” Your sarcasm was back. “… each time you sent me packing”
“I don’t do that.” You felt offended.
“I can’t barely make a full sentence with you!” You opened your mouth to retort but he stopped you by pointing a finger that undeniably meant ‘Careful what you’re going to say’. So you stood there, perfectly still, mouth opened, realising that he was probably right.
“You’re allowed to breath, you know.” He said as a response to your reaction but you didn’t know what to say anymore. Did you really spend all your time at the academy trying to win a non-existent competition? “Fuck.” You cursed, definitely dumbfounded.
Leon observed you, perplexed and wondering if you were going to stay rooted to the spot for the rest of the day. “Y/N” He waved in front of your face to pull you out from your thoughts but you barely noticed. “All that repressed sexual tension for nothing?” You asked yourself. Wait! Did you just say that out loud?
Panic-stricken, you looked up at Leon and judging by the way he was staring at you – all ‘what the hell did she just say?’ – yep you did.
“You didn’t hear what I’ve just said.” You waved your hand past his face, like a Jedi would do in a Star Wars movie, knowing perfectly it wouldn’t work but hoping that ridicule would make the situation less awkward and give you a chance to run away from his room. It was a failure. “Yes, I did.”
And just like that, Leon Saint Sucker Son of a Bitch – whatever the S stood for - Kennedy caught your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that made you gasp against him. You tried to resist for a second but then you decided to let go. After all, you had nothing to lose. The study years could be considered over and soon Leon would be in Raccoon City analysing amazing crimes while you would be God-knows-where writing parking tickets. You would never see each other again.
“Tell that to anyone, Kennedy and I’ll kick your gorgeous butt from here to Raccoon City.” You threatened, close to his mouth. “I won’t. Scout’s honour.” Leon Scout Kennedy? You shook your head (Stop being silly, Y/N!) before pushing Leon on the convertible sofa behind him.
You straddled him without waiting, definitely willing to let your sudden eagerness and your repressed desire for him get the better of you. You met his lips in a new heated kiss, your body pressed against his, craving for lustful friction. And by the way Leon was holding you tight you could tell you weren’t the only one.
His tongue asked permission to enter your mouth and you happily granted it. Who would have thought that Leon Saint Kennedy was such a skilled kisser? Couldn’t he suck for once? Oh yeah, he could suck at your neck apparently. Damn.
A moan escaped your throat and you felt Leon smirk against your skin. “You like that?” He asked, proud of himself. You instinctively arched your neck asking for more, your hands weaving into his soft hair. “It’s not that bad.” You acknowledged and he suddenly bit you in the nape of your neck. “What the fuck?” You shouted, surprised. Leon laughed and you caught his face to kiss him and bite his lips in retaliation. But judging by the kinky smile on his angelic face, he didn’t seem to mind.
“You’re incorrigible.” You humoured.
“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.” He pecked your lips again and again and slowly began leaving a trail of light kissed down to your neck. “You’d better be. Aren’t you tired of making my life a misery?” You pretended to sulk as he kept on pressing his soft lips on your burning skin. You grabbed his chin, putting you thumb in his dimple and stared at him. How ridiculously hot he was right now with that arousal tinting his beautiful blue eyes and this dishevelled hair.
“What do you have in mind, Y/N?” Rhetorical question. He knew exactly what you had in mind. Hell, it was basically the same thing he had in his.
“Stop playing coy and take your clothes off.” You whispered close to his face, your hot breath against his mouth, before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth “What about your silly competition?” He murmured back, his hands slowly falling along your sides.
“I’m all in for cooperation right now. So are you gonna give me a hand …” You started unbuckling his belt. “…or do I need to do everything by myself?” His eyes fixed upon yours mischievous ones, gazing at you with awe. You could tell he was completely at your mercy. “I’ll give you more than a hand.” You smirked and allowed your hands to unbutton his jeans. “I thought so.” He lifted his rear and you pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, biting your lips at the view of his beautiful cock. Jesus Christ Kennedy, Mother Nature certainly had been kind to you.
You stood up to undress yourself as well, dropping all your clothes to the floor, your eyes watching at Leon’s hastening hands fighting desperately with the buttons of his shirt. Clearly, you weren’t the only one that was impatient in this room, or horny.
You let him finish before taking your place back on his laps. His hard sex against your body, you slightly shivered, impatience eating you from within. “You’re gorgeous.” He said as he tucked few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but blush, not used to such compliments, and, as a consequence, in order to erase all sense of discomfort in you (if you could call it like that), you decided to focus your attention on his cock.
You brushed his length with your fingertips, admiring it with envy and lust, excited to do more with it. It made Leon hiss and you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading you. Without looking away from the blueness of his look, you caught his penis in your hand and started pumping it gently. Leon’s eyelids flickered; his head hit the back of the sofa and his mouth opened slightly. He seemed thankful, relieved even. You continued your gesture, watching him melting underneath you, listening to his now ragged breath with delight. God, that was sexy. He was sexy. Leon Sexy Kennedy. Suited him.
You bit your lips and decided to venture in between his legs, kneeling onto the floor. “What are you …” Leon complained when he suddenly stopped feeling you on top of him. You cut him short by guiding his cock to your mouth to softly kiss the pre cum-covered tip “Holy...” The rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat and turned into a growl as you eagerly sucked the head of his cock like a Popsicle. You smiled and licked his length, staring at how ecstatic he looked from this angle. “You like that?” You winked as you quoted him and he laughed. “Women.”
You engulfed his cock deep in your mouth and started bobbing your head. A new sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth and you felt him instantly relax on the couch. “God, you’re amazing.” You liked the compliment and to show your appreciation you decided to massage his balls as you kept on sucking him. You received a lustful grunt in response and soon Leon’s hand grabbed your hair to give you a quicker pace, almost making you gag on him. “Oh, sorry.“ What a gentleman! “That’s okay.” You smiled in a very naughty way. “I like it.” He chortled and you took back his dick in your mouth, welcoming it deeper to show him you didn’t mind some roughness. “You know, if you keep doing this I’m soon going to cum in your mouth.”
You stopped, licked your lips and crawled back onto his lap. “That would be a shame.” You joked sarcastically, hands back in his hair “Got a condom?”
The way you pronounced the words, all smiley and adorable, made him laugh again. He pushed you softly to open the drawer of his nightstand and find your one-way ticket for cloud nine. “There!” He announced excited as he showed you the contraceptive. “But first …” He suddenly grabbed your ankles to pull you towards him, making you slightly yelp in the process. “There’s something I got to do”
He lay down on the couch, spread your legs and immediately nestled his head right in between your thighs, making you instantly shiver. So, that’s what he got to do.
You sighed when you felt his breath against you swollen clit but it was only when his tongue met your pink flesh that you realised how aroused you truly were. You were so wet.
“Fuck, am I the one to blame for such a mess?” He joked but his mouth and tongue felt so good in between your thighs that you could only just moan and arch your back, begging for proper sucking and licking. He didn’t make you wait and gave you what you wanted as he started fondling your clit with his tongue. “Leon” That was the first time you where saying his first name and you got to admit, you liked the sound of it. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Keep going, please.” You begged and he sucked on your bud, gazing at you melting under his touch as he did. You grasped his hair when he finally let a finger enter your core. Fuck, he was good. You moved your hips instinctively against him and he added a new finger. It sank into you as easily as the first one and you cried out, finding it impossible to be discreet anymore. “Fuck, Leon. I want you. I want you now.” You begged.
“Wait a second.” He asked, definitely loving your taste too much for him to stop just now. He pumped his fingers in your pussy, licking your juices greedily and you clenched your thighs around his head, feeling the imminence of your orgasm slowly yet surely approaching. “Now, Leon. Now! Please”
Leon obeyed this time and he quickly sat up and grabbed the condom he had left on the pillow next to him. He put the red wrapper between his teeth and tore it open. Then he rolled the condom down his length with both his hands. You watched him all the time, your fingers massaging your clit, finding him terribly arousing at this very moment.
Once ready, Leon bent over you to kiss you again and he tapped his hard cock on your hand to ask access to your humid entrance. You didn’t object of course and even spread your legs wider. Soon enough, you felt him slide in between your wet lips and then finally push slowly yet exquisitely inside of you. You closed your eyes as he did and drew a sharp breath once you felt him fully inside. You didn’t need time to adjust to him as if your body was meant for him.
Guess Leon felt it too as he immediately took a quick pace and began pounding you. You let your hands wander on his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply gorgeous. Then you grasped his hips, and nudge his rear with your ankles, pressing his pelvis closer to you to take him deeper, and started moaning his name again. His hands caught your bouncing breasts to play with your nipples, and you rapidly felt the strong wave of pleasure back in your core, ready to drown you. “Fuck, Leon!” His mouth met one of your teats and sucked on it with ardour. That was too much to handle. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You cried out.
“Yeah?” You nodded, letting a tear of pleasure escape your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice and few seconds later, you dug your nails in his hipbones and screamed loudly as you clenched around his cock, finally coming undone under his thrusts.
Stunned, breathless and at the same time a bit embarrassed that you had already reached your orgasm, you let Leon kiss you soft lips with a smile on his face. “See, you reached the finishing line before me.” He humoured.
“Fuck off.” You whispered, amused yet completely exhausted. He chuckled and pressed his lips against yours one more time before gently pushing you flat on your stomach. “I’m not done with you yet.” He whispered in your ear.
You moaned loudly when he thrust back into your wet core, pinning you down on the mattress that you ultimately grabbed tightly in order to stay in place. He started pounding you again, holding you by the hips, taking delight in watching your sweet butt bouncing against him as he was burying himself deeper than he had ever done before. “Jesus, Y/N!” He growled before spanking you.
You gasped, astonished but in a good way. You had never thought he was that kind of guy. “Really, Kennedy? Spanking? That’s what the ‘S’ in your name stands for?” He laughed, still fucking you from behind. “I thought you would like it.”
“Oh but I do. I just never thought it was your thing.”
“You should stop taking me for a saint, Y/N.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing the strand of hair covering his right eye away and focused again on his movements. “It’s not my fault. It’s your baby face.” You confessed in between two moans. He brutally stopped and you wondered for a second if what you had just said had actually vexed him.
“My baby face? Really?” He repeated in your ear with a smirk as he grabbed you by the hair. “Who’s been crying out my name the whole time?” Holy shit. You instinctively braced yourself and when he resumed his hammering you knew it was a smart decision. Leon started growling even more loudly as he slowed yet deepened his movements inside of you, his hand in your hair, using your body as leverage. He was almost aggressive but you moaned nevertheless, out of breath, feeling a new orgasm building inside of you. Really? You clenched around him, trying to hold your orgasm a bit longer, unwilling to give him the satisfaction to cum around him again.
When Leon’s hard pounding started to get sloppy you realised he was really close to his release. “Jesus, I’m almost there.” He admitted.
You don’t know how you found the strength to push him on his back but you did. Sitting on top of him, you removed the condom, threw it carelessly onto the floor and started to jerk him off. “I want you to cum on me.” You confessed. A guttural moan vibrated in his throat and he let himself sprawl on the mattress, leaving you in complete charge of his pleasure. You grinded against his cock as your hand kept on firmly going up and down his length. It drove Leon crazy and you soon felt him throbbing in your grip. His breath became even more ragged and jerky and small spasms took control of his body. You angled his cock towards you and soon, a hot load of thick cum spurted on your stomach and breasts as Leon cursed and grunted between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, Y/N!”
You smiled and let go of his member, proud and satisfied of your work, looking at poor panting Leon who had a beautiful yet exhausted smile on his face. “You killed me, woman.” He joked and you briefly laughed. Then, you wiped his cum off your body with your fingers and brought them to your mouth, sucking them eagerly and swallowing the white seed looking right in Leon’s eyes. You had the feeling he would find it very hot. “Jesus Christ” Bull’s eye!
He circled you with his strong arms and pulled you against his chest. His heart was beating wildly and you allowed yourself to huddle a bit more against him to enjoy the melody. Post-coital cuddling session? Not sure that was a good idea but you decided to go for it and so did Leon as he chose to burry his nose in your hair and kiss the top of your head.
“Scott” He whispered sleepily. You looked up, wondering what he meant. “That’s what the ‘S’ stands for. Leon Scott Kennedy.”
Scott? You repeated in your head with a soft smile. Oh well, that didn’t sound so bad even though, right now, you preferred Leon ‘Stay’ Kennedy.
#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon scott kennedy#re2 remake leon#re2 remake#resident evil#fanfic#one shot
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