Text
Bout to muse about something that is part headcanon part canon events
ㅤ
Tails is finally saved from his bullies by the (currently) small time hero he admires
Tails stalks follows his hero, uses his mechanical knowledge to improve Sonic's plane
While Tails follows Sonic around, even on dangerous journeys, the hedgehog keeps an eye out for the younger fox behind him, keeping him from being in too much danger
Sonic leads by example, demonstrating to Tails how to fight, and Tails runs maintenance on Sonic's plane and teaches him how to read
Soon enough, they become softly inseparable. Even if they can't adventure side by side (although they do more often than not), Sonic keeps contact with Tails whenever he can.
They strengthen each other's weak points. Where Tails lacks in raw strength, Sonic makes up for it with experience and speed. Where Sonic lacks in firepower, Tails has a machine, a gadget, or the technical know-how to take one. Sonic often rushes into danger, fighting without thinking too hard, but Tails' specialty is strategizing or making plans, and he's one of the few who can slow Sonic down enough to make sure he's prepared. And where Sonic supports Tails by being a force of nature, someone who can roll with the punches and execute one of Tails' plans with complete trust or faith, Tails also supports Sonic by understanding what he cannot, by crafting plans when Sonic is at a loss for how to proceed. They have such unwavering faith and trust in each other's abilities now.
Where Sonic is a hero, Tails is his own kind of hero, saving the people only he can save, helping in the ways only he can help. They support each other. They look out for each other. Even if Sonic is a force on his own, or Tails can go on solo adventures, they're more effective when they're together.
And no matter how things change as they grow, the people who come and go, the two of them are a constant. Sonic and Tails, ever at each other's sides.
#sonic the hedgehog#sontails#unbreakable bond#miles tails prower#tails the fox#i just be ramblin#Sorry they just make me emotional and insane#Although really the only thing that's solidly a headcanon and not either canon or my reading of them is that Tails teaches Sonic how to read#Despite them being 'hero and sidekick' I always like to think that as they grew (both up and closer to each other) and as time passed#they maintained this push and pull. They slotted into place as partners that support each other and help where the other falters#And really no matter what happens relationship wise or life wise with the two of them‚ I can only imagine that they still live and fight#together#Tails could get married and Sonic would still crash at his place and Tails would still keep food for him#Sonic could get married and/or have a kid with someone and Tails would move right in with them (if they don't just straight up stay with#Tails)#No matter what happens I can never see them not at each other's sides#And of course I like the idea of Tails starting out a bit more codependent but ultimately someone who works to support Sonic so he can#continue to be needed/wanted and be at his side‚ while Sonic‚ who initially believes that he let Tails into his life and is protecting him‚#grows more secretly codependent. I think Tails is aware of how important Sonic is in his life (even if Tails has interests and wants and#whatnot outside of him)#while Sonic is...the kind of guy who believes that he chooses to keep Tails by his side‚ but whose world would also begin to crumble if#Tails disappeared (and I think Sonic Prime gives me pretty good ammo with that)#Gaaaaaah they just fascinate me. they fascinate me🥺😭💖
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love Taylor. I always have and to some degree I always will. She means too much to me and is such an important figure and source of joy and light in my life when I desperately needed, and a connection to my own father that I need desperately, to deny that I will always look on her fondly to some degree as silly as that may seem sometimes and to some people.
But that doesn't mean I don't/won't/can't be critical of her or be disappointed or disagree with choices she makes or has made, because I absolutely have been and I absolutely am.
My problem is that I always, with every fiber of my being, look for and try to see the best in people and believe in people until I absolutely can't anymore. Unless it's something truly reprehensible and irredeemable, my brain simply cannot comprehend the idea that one bad decision or mistake trust me I know she's made more than one lately can automatically invalidate or negate anything and everything good a person has ever done. I've genuinely tried to understand it and unfortunately, I can't wrap my head around the concept. I give grace to a fault. I get sad when I see things said about her in a negative light even when I completely understand and even agree, because I have so much love for her in my heart. It's that tride and true naive, blind optimism in me I guess.
But I do not in any way think she's a perfect person, I know she isn't, because nobody is. Some are just better at hiding that than others. She makes mistakes, she's wrong sometimes, she is a human being who messes up. Sometimes in big ways. And unfortunately she's messed up a few times over the last year or so and that makes me sad. It disappoints me because I love her so much, and I do want and expect better of her. And in the process of that, it makes me very sad that I feel like I have to hide the facet of myself that does still love her despite my disappointment in her or risk making people upset with me now because I'm so afraid of upsetting people. I'm terrified of doing or saying the wrong things I try so hard to do the best I can every day and it's disappointing to see her slip up. It's sad. It makes me very sad.
It's a complicated time to love her right now. I hope, in my heart of hearts, I sincerely hope that sooner rather than later it won't have to be that way anymore. Not just for me, but for all of us who feel that complexity or conflict of emotions.
#I don't know I'm just talking out my ass I just have a lot of thoughts running through my head I don't really know how to articulate well#I just always want to believe the best in people I don't like to judge people I don't like to condemn people or see that happen#unless someone is truly reprehensible and deserving of condemnation and I just don't feel in my heart that she is like some people do#I don't know maybe that makes me a bad person...? sometimes I feel like there are people who would think that it does and that makes me sad#I know I keep saying I don't know but I truly don't know. I'm just tired. sometimes I wish I didn't care#but the fact of the matter is that I do. I care about people I love people I want nothing but the best for people#I want to believe the best in people and in my heart I believe that she is the person I always thought she was. someone who is good and kin#who makes mistakes but is ultimately better for them because she learns from those mistakes and grows#or maybe I just want to believe she's like me and always looks for the best in people and sees the best in people to a fault#until she can't deny the truth anymore if they're not good people.#sometimes you blind yourself to the things in people or situations that you don't want to see until it's impossible to anymore#I know because I've been there. not in the same kinds of situations granted but I've blinded myself and hurt myself so much to hang on#I've ruined my entire life holding onto the past. not wanting to move on into the stage of my life I'm actually in#and trying to stay in my childhood as long as possible when the truth is it's long gone. i can't get it back.#but I can keep her. I can keep that piece of it. and oh god I want to. I pray to god the truth of her heart is revealed#and that that truth is good. that that truth is a relief and a reassurance to those like me and many others looking for it lately#maybe I'm just being naive I guess. but dammit I want to see light on the other side no matter what. it's a blessing and a curse sometimes.#I just want people to love each other and be kind to one another and coexist with one another peacefully... that's all I want... 😔#I want people to be able to love who and what they love without shame or fear to be who they are unapologetically without shame or fear#I just want love and hope and light in this world goddammit it shouldn't be as hard as it is these days 😔#I love you all. so much. no matter what. never forget that. ❤#abby's insomnia thoughts
0 notes
Text
FIRST masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 06/02/24 up until 01/10/24 — for my recent works click on my KINKTOBER <3
Men In Uniform Do It Best!
Dirty Lil' Secrets
A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)
I'm Addicted, I Admit It!
Give Me Tough Love
Never Ever Seen This Before!
We Don't Have No Babies!
Like A Fever
Bad Things (To You)
Prettier When Messy!
Care For You!
Green-eyed Monster
So Lonely In My Mansion!
Kiss Me More!
Girl, I Do This Often
Cause, I Love Freaks!
Sl*t Me Out!
Match My Freak!
WAP!
R U Mine?
Hot To Go!
Girl, You Earned It!
I'm A BIG Stepper!
BODY-ODY!
SOOO ANXIOUS
Long Overdue!
THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!
The Family Matter?!
I-T G-I-R-L!
I Lasted Ten Rounds!
BRAT!
She's My Vitals!
ONE-SHOTS
Three's a Crowd (But Four...) — “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?” “Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.
Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 1] [Part 2] — There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.
Dream A Little Dream — For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you.
Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?
One More? Please? — A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?
Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.
Hope They Catch Us — When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.
Unmistakably Yours — In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.
Madam Gojo — Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?
Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.
The Heir — No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.
LONGFICS
The Call — After an explosive fight with your boyfriend, you really should feel sorry about being swept up by the blue-eyed stranger at the club - but it’s so hard when he kisses you like that.
Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy — He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.
Go For It, Gojo! [Part 1] [Part 2] — You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid…is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.
Unhoneymooners!? — The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.
AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! — When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.
Bad Boys Bring Roses — You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?
The Way You Kiss Me — The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.
Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) — Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…
Haunting You — A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.
You'll Taste Me Too! — How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.
We Neva Play! — Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.
Something Stupid — Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.
ONE-SHOTS
Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?
Like An Animal — Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.
Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You — When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company!
Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.
F*ck You! (Literally) — Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.
LONGFICS
Government Hooker — With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.
Madam Zenin — There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.
ONE-SHOTS
Brooklyn Baby — Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.
Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?
Golden Boy — Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.
LONGFICS
ONE-SHOTS
Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?
A Million Dollar Baby! — Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.
LONGFICS
ONE-SHOTS
Welcome To The Itadori's! — Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does.
FIVE! — Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.
LONGFICS
Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) — When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.
Freak On The Cam! — Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?
ONE-SHOTS
Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.
LONGFICS
Exes who...
Love Is Blind
“She My Best Friend, Yeah We Not a Couple.”
Wanna Do Bad Things To You
I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera
Lemme Ride, Baby!
Can I Fill You Up, Baby?
"Pull On It. Harder."
Little Heaven
© 2024 tonycries
Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes any text and graphics included.
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Fighting words
summary: one of the bracken boys has been hitting on you for days now and youre sick of it. He happens to take it too far with you and your best friend shows you a side of himself you’ve never seen. and you like it. a lot.
Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Cerwyn!reader | 1.3k wrds
c.w: probably very occ as we dont know like anything abt him in the show 😭😭, slightly smutty, takes place before any battles, not proofread
he wouldn’t leave my mind, so take this 😁
masterlist - requests are open!!
tags: @hxtd
“No. Leave me alone bracken.” you try to shove him away from you but the bracken boy just grins at you and leans closer into you.
“Oh come on cerwyn, i see how you look at me~” a scoff escapes your lips as you stare at him with disgust. “In your fucking dreams, seriously. Leave me alone.”
You didn’t even know this guys name but he had been bothering you for the last couple days. It had started out small with him trying to invite you to come drink with him and his friends to him offering to carry around your stuff for you when you were walking around.
“theyre arrows bracken.”
“so what? must be heavy for you youre a girl.”
He grossed you out. But didn’t matter even if he didn’t,
“she said no.”
The two of you turn to look at the new voice and a smile creeps up on your face. The bracken boy rolls his eyes as he glares, “the hell do you want blackwood.”
“she said no. Back off.”
youve been friends with the lord of house blackwood for since you were younger and hes always been so kind to you. It seemed to be obvious to everyone other than him that you were madly in love with the young lord but if he did notice he said nothing about it.
You knew of his, angry? or maybe a better word is his more aggressive behavior. You had never even seen it first hand but multiple people have told you first hand accounts of him losing his temper and blowing up, his normal calm and kind demeanor getting lost to rage and blind madness.
You did not know what to think about the rumors then but seeing the way his eyes twitched and his clenched jaw as he stared at the bracken boy the rumors about him became more and more believable.
The bracken boy stands and gets all up in bens face, “What are you gonna do about it huh?”
Ben tilts his head and a look you’ve never seen crosses his eyes as he glares. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” His voice is hard like youve never heard before and it has you holding your breath, waiting for the straining thread to snap.
And the thread snaps the second bracken pushes bens chest and laughs. “what? you upset this ugly bitch wants me more than you-“ It happens before you know it and suddenly the two guys are on the floor and everyone in the room jumps up to look.
you freeze. What in the hells are you supposed to do? so you merely watch as the two boys beat the fuck out of each other. Ben pulls ahead at some point and manages to get a few more punches in after pinning the guy down until the two are pulled apart.
“never talk about her like that, no. never talk to her again or else ill fucking kill you.” He thrashes around in the arms of the two blackwood lads that hold him back as he continues to spit insults at the bracken boy as he gets dragged off and out of the space.
Your legs move before you can even think and your standing in front of him, he freezes and blinks at you rapidly. Hes covered in blood, you cant tell which is his and which is the other guys but he looks badly hurt.
He had done it for you. In your name. And you could barely take how hot you felt but he needed you. “i have supplies in my tent let me fix you up.” the boys oooo’d and ben barely acknowledges them as he nods and allows you to drag him off to your tent.
The boys call after you two with some unsavory choice words but you just turn and flip them off before you continue to help ben to your tent. You place him on your bed cot and try to ignore the racing of your heart as he stays quiet, merely looking at you.
Hes usually quiet but not around you. Its odd to see him like this. So you shakily rummage around with the stuff in your chest as you nervously begin to talk. “thank you for stepping in i was really nervous he wasn’t going to leave me alone, you didn’t meed to-“ you gasp as your spun around and lips lock onto yours with fever.
One of his hands reach behind you and push all your stuff off your table, lifting up you up to sit on it while he kisses you. You gasp against his lips and he takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth.
Your head is spinning. You can taste the metallic taste of his blood seep into your mouth and it laces its way into your kiss. You fear you’re dreaming. You felt asleep on watch shift again and when you wake this will all just be a dream.
Yet when you grip your hand against his waist he pulls away and winces. You are pulled back to reality and try to pull away to grab your medical supplies that now are all spilled all over the floor but he quickly stops you.
“ben you’re hurt.” “i dont care.” He tries to kiss you again but you dodge it and grip his face in your hands. “ben,” His hand slide around your waist and play with the fabric of your tunic, testing the waters and sliding his hands lower and almost under the tunic you wear. “ben.” you say firmer and he pauses to look at you.
“right now i just need to feel your skin, please.” your heart pounds loudly against your chest and your mouth drops open. “ben,” his name shakily passes your lips and he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “How dare he talk to you like that. i should have killed him,” his hands slide under your tunic his hot hands run up and down your bare sides slowly. “he should know i take no disrespect to the future lady of blackwood.”
You kiss him unable to take it anymore and he meets your fever eagerly. arms wrapping around you and pulling you so your chest to chest and you can feel him pressing against your trousers.
His lips trail down your jaw as his hands find your breasts and you let out a moan as he squeezes them in his hands. His lips your neck and he sucks at any skin he can get while he grinds his hips against yours. His hands grow more feverish as he uses his teeth to pull down your tunic to expose more of your collarbone and neck, youre sure to be covered in bruises tomorrow but you cant be bothered with that.
One of his hands trails down your stomach and almost gets to reach under your pants until a horn sounds outside and you both look at each other alarmed.
“ugh fuck me.” “wish i could.” you slap him on the chest as he pulls away and he hisses.
“that hurts.” “if you had let me patch you up it wouldn’t be hurting you idiot.” “you certain didn’t look like you were going to complain. not when i was about to-“ “okay! lets go they need us.” you ignore the sound of his laughter as you flap open your tent and rush out leaving him behind, hoping you look presentable enough your men dont ask questions and pray you can continue what you were doing with ben later.
#benjicot blackwood#bloody ben#ben blackwood x reader#benjicot blackwood x reader#bloody ben x reader#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon#ben blackwood
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
His
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader
Summary: You used to be a Lady, a daughter of a Great House until Feyd took you. Since then, your sole purpose has been to warm his bed, but when Rabban asks about having you for himself, Feyd makes a choice that changes your future.
Words: 2600
Notes: Possessiveness. Grumpy Feyd. I know it's similar to another one of my fics, but I realized that after the fact, so...
Feyd-Rautha Masterlist
You didn’t sleep. Not a wink. You laid in his bed all night, waiting for the man who never came, and your heart didn’t cease its ferocious beats for a second. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Is he ok? What happened? The sun rises without answers to those questions.
You shoot up in bed when the door eases open. Expecting to find him, you’re disappointed to see instead his harpies enter one after the other. They don’t look at you. One goes about riffling through your dresses in the closet, one heads into the bathroom and you suddenly hear a rush of water filling the tub, and the last of them goes to the vanity Feyd brought in for you, lining up makeup and hair pins that she intends to use on you.
The air about them is poised—an echo of who they used to be before they were turned into pets—as, for the moment, their vile, more carnivorous side lies dormant.
Feyd only allows them to near you a couple hours after they’ve been fed; the peak time between their hunger sated and their bellies rumbling. At any other time, your uniquely foreign scent wafts to their nostrils and they are incapable of holding themselves back. More than a handful of instances—when they’ve managed to manipulate the guards to open their cages with their seductive smiles—they’ve gone on the hunt for you; one time in particular, sneaking into the bedroom in the middle of the night and yanking you from Feyd’s arms with the intention of sinking their teeth into your flesh. Feyd had been so furious he’d cut a finger from each of their hands.
Still, they don’t scare you. You see in them women not entirely unlike yourself: owned, and therefore, changed. Soft are the women who have had the luxury of marriage and child-rearing in the comforts of wealth and beautiful homes—and good for them; how lovely to be soft—but it is the women who have not a choice in their existence that develop a steel shell. And you and the harpies have steel shells. In that way, they are your kin, and you try to subtly express that when you can, even though their allegiance to Feyd can make that quite difficult.
“Where is he?” you ask.
They ignore you, continuing with their tasks, and you huff. Yes, sometimes they refuse to speak with you, and always it seems when you need their words most. In the past, you’ve been tempted to dangle your arm in front of their sharpened fangs in the hope that the offering will encourage their cooperation, but you’ve yet to find the bravery for that. Plus, Feyd would lose his mind. Well, he would lose the rest of it.
“You’ve spoken to me before,” you continue. “Why not now?”
One of them stops and faces you. She glances at her sister who shakes her head.
“Tell me,” you plead.
“We are not permitted to speak with you on the matter,” the other says to your frustration. That is not good enough. Regardless of how he sees you and how you feel, he is the one thing keeping you alive on this lifeless planet and you refuse to go about your days worrying over his safety and what his disappearance means for your fate.
You throw the sheets off your legs and stand.
“I don’t care,” you spit as your silky nightgown falls at your ankles, but then you reconsider your tone. The harpies do not do well with aggression. Being so animalistic, their instincts are easily drawn out, and they tend to attack when attacked, which is not a fight you would win.
You take a calming breath, placing a hand over your heart. “We are the same. He owns us, he clothes us, he feeds us,” you remind them. “On this planet, I am as much your sister as you are each other’s. We all care about him in a way and if I knew what happened to him, I would have the decency to tell you.”
The harpy who drew your bath returns to the bedroom. Having overheard your words, she crosses her arms and says, “With respect, my Lady, we are not your sisters,” she says. “We have never had him the way you have, and he does not feel for us the way he does you.”
Your clenched jaw loosens, lips parting. If you had assumed anything about the relationship between Feyd-Rautha and his harpies, it was that they had once been where you are; that when you came along, they lost their rank and became something alike the handmaids from your home world. You’d assumed that when they warmed his bed, their handmaids were the women who entertained him before them, and so on like a disgusting, perverted pattern. But if that is not the case, then your sense of identity is even more confused. Not to mention, nary a soul has referred to you as ‘Lady’ since you were taken from your family. So why show that respect now when Feyd practically stripped you of the title months ago?
You look to the only one of the three who seems unsure of the situation. She’s biting her lip, worrying the fabric of your unworn gown between her fingers.
“What about you?” you ask her and her head lifts to meet your eyes. She’s the smallest of them—pixie-esque, like you read in fairytale stories as a child—and despite the core of their primal nature, the gentlest. “You want to tell me.”
The harpy by your vanity hisses, but the gentle one does not shy away at the warning. “She has been kind to us,” she tells her sister in the most self-assured tone you’ve ever heard leave her mouth.
The sister snaps back. “He instructed us to do one thing: get her ready for the day and act like nothing is wrong. It was not to tell her what happened.”
You lightly gasp. “So something has happened,” you state, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Your chest begins to rise and fall to match the rapid rate. “Is he ok?”
There are a few seconds of silent pause before Pixie stands a little straighter, setting her shoulders in a strong line. “Our Lord na-Baron was answering for the death of his brother.”
Your head jerks back. “Rabban?” you question, your brow pinching. “Rabban is dead?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“And Feyd is the one who killed him?” That doesn’t make any sense. While Feyd has complained enough for you to know Rabban is a bumbling idiot, he eventually found a way for his brother to serve a purpose. Why would he kill a man when he is no longer the nuisance he once was, you wonder, so you ask, “Why?”
“The Lord Rabban…made suggestions,” Pixie tells you. One of the harpies groans as the other shakes her head.
“What suggestions?”
She bites down and swallows hard, then she says, “He suggested that the na-Baron share you for his own pleasure.”
Instantly, you’re hit with a wave of nausea. Share? Share you? The concept of a foreign woman hopping between men of status is not unusual, but at this point, you assumed if Feyd were going to participate in something like that, he would have sent you off already. Not doing so didn’t even surprise you. He’s too possessive.
“You said he was answering for Rabban’s death,” you say, but answering for that surely wouldn’t have taken so many hours, not when the Baron saw Rabban as a waste of space. “So where is he now?”
—
He doesn’t notice when you step into the training room and you’re thankful for that. You came on a mission to extract more answers out of him, but you don’t mind having a second to admire him sparing against his trainer.
He’s sweaty. You like him sweaty—sweaty and bare-chested and perfectly, effortlessly mesmerizing as aggressive grunts leave his lips. You silently watch their violent dance, your form mouse-like by the door until his trainer looks up and halts to stare at you. Feyd whips around to follow his line of sight, then he sighs and turns back to the smaller man. He mutters something as he grabs the rag at his belt and runs it down his face.
The trainer leaves and Feyd places his knife back on the table among many others. “I told them to keep you away today,” he says dully, monotone, not meeting your eyes as he runs his finger over the blade and fiddles with the hilt. “Incompetent brats.”
“You didn’t come to bed.”
“I was busy,” he responds without letting a beat pass. He continues to avoid your stare and mess with the knives as if he’s never wielded them before.
You slowly step down the stairs into the pit of the room. “Busy killing your brother?” you ask. The muscles in his back twitch and flex under pale skin as he grips the hilt harder.
“That is none of your concern.” The distance between you lessens until you’re a foot from his back, but he doesn’t turn around.
“Even though you killed him because of me?” you ask. His neck ticks and his head tilts and shifts to adjust to the tension. When he still doesn’t respond, you try another angle. “Why are your harpies referring to me as their ‘Lady’?”
That seems to do it. Feyd faces you, crosses his arms, and leans his lower back against the table. “You think spending one night without me gives you permission to be nosy?”
You don’t give in to his method of shutting you up by aiming to make you feel silly and guilty. Instead, your eyes narrow and you mirror the crossing of arms. “Why am I a Lady again?”
“You just are.”
“Are you sending me home?”
His eyes flash. Blue irises darken a shade. “Don’t be stupid.”
“So I’m a Lady on Giedi Prime?” you ask, dropping your chin to emphasize how ridiculous that sounds.
The edge of Feyd’s jaw sharpens as he clenches his back teeth. “Stop asking questions.”
“Then answer one,” you say.
It’s a shot taken by an untrained hand, as he doesn’t enjoy demands, especially not from you, but you figure you have nothing to lose in the attempt, so you don’t cower under his menacing glare. You wait. And much to your surprise, he surrenders.
He blinks, and when his eyes open, they have softened ever so slightly. Then he says, “You’re marrying me,” and everything from your lungs to your limbs freezes in shock.
“W–What?” you stutter. That makes less sense than Rabban’s sudden death.
Feyd groans and stands straight, his arms falling at his sides. “See what being nosy gets you?” he snaps. “I wasn’t going to tell you immediately, and you had to go and ruin it.”
He grabs a fresh knife and stomps his way over to a dummy, ready to attack something other than you for the insecurity that he can’t completely contain. You’ve never witnessed him insecure, but you know the feeling when you see it—the defense mechanism, the distancing himself, the grumbly attitude.
“I’m not sure I understand,” you press as he slashes and stabs at the soulless victim. “I’m marrying you because you killed your brother for wanting to fuck me?”
With a grunt, the dummy’s head severs from its torso and flies off in your direction. It rolls and rolls and stops just before hitting your feet. The dead eyes stare up at you in silent amusement. Now you’ve done it, they mock.
“I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?” Feyd growls.
Your eyes shoot to his. “The marrying you part or The your brother fucking me part?”
He tosses the knife aside. It clatters against the ground as he closes in on you. His hand wraps around your neck. “Don't test me,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I will sew your damn lips shut if I have to.”
An empty threat if you’ve ever heard one. He would never harm you, but even if he were going to try, his fingers would need to be squeezing much tighter.
You roll your eyes. “Well then how am I going to suck your cock?”
Something about the tease stuns him. His tense features immediately settle and his whole body eases with his exhale. Glancing at your lips, he licks his own, and you think he might decide to kiss you—after all, it’s been a good twenty-four hours since the last one—but he doesn’t.
You snort. “Didn’t think that one through, did you.”
Long fingers unwrap from around your neck. “You’re not funny,” he mumbles with an odd sense of shame.
“If you don’t find me entertaining, can you maybe take the time to explain all of this better?”
Feyd considers keeping his mouth shut. You know him well enough to know that. However, it’s ridiculous to contemplate since he’s already spilled the bigger news. Nothing could be more shocking than you, after the bed-warming position you’ve held for months, becoming his wife.
“My uncle was going to take you away from me for killing Rabban,” he finally says. “So I told him I've had plans to marry you for the alliance and that's why I refused to share you. Rabban wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he had to die.”
Raising a brow, you say, “The Baron accepted that explanation? My House may be one of the Greats, but we do not offer much for Giedi Prime.”
Feyd shrugs. “My uncle enjoys anything that causes upset. Marrying me means we will always own something very valuable to your family.”
It would likely offend another, but you don’t mind being owned. While the Baron may believe the Harkonnens as a whole will own you, you belong to Feyd and Feyd alone. He’ll never allow anyone to hurt you and now he’ll never have to fight or argue with anyone to stake his claim, which works for you just fine, to say the very least.
“Thank you,” you say.
“For what?”
Your head tilts as you smile. “Caring enough to protect me.”
“Don't flatter yourself,” he says. “I didn't do it for you, I did it for my own benefit.”
Your sweet smile morphs into a smirk. “The benefit being that you get to keep me all to yourself…for the rest of your life.”
With a scoff, Feyd rolls his eyes and crosses his arms again. “Whatever.”
“Feyd…” you sigh, leaning into him.
“What?” he returns in his snarky tone as if he doesn’t want you near, but he doesn’t step out of the bubble of your space.
“I'm happy.”
A pink tinge sneaks onto his pale skin, and he quickly looks away. And before he has a chance to come up with some witty remark to smack you with, you grab his face and press your lips to his.
You hold on to him until he starts to kiss you back, and then he's reaching for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, and you know you won't be going anywhere for a good long while.
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha#austin butler#dune part 2#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen x reader#feyd rautha imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
coworker James being protective of reader like she’s just a sweet and kind thing and he’s FINALLY accepting his feelings and reader gets like happy that he cares?
“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’m just gonna watch movies all weekend. I might make popcorn. Yeah! Don’t worry about it, just have fun, okay?”
You’re talking quietly but not without pep, hushed to avoid disturbing him. By the sounds of it, your plans for the weekend have bombed. You’re taking it remarkably well.
“Okie dokie. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you. Bye.” You don’t lift your head where you’re laying against the desk, but you put your phone gently by your keyboard.
“That blows,” James says.
“Maybe.” You turn your face to see him, before you lift yourself up and return to the pack of biscuits you’ve opened. “Do you want some?” you ask, bringing a malted milk to your mouth.
“Please.”
You gesture for him to take one. In relative quiet, you and James sit there chewing, the sunlight from the open window on your hands.
“You’re not upset about your plans?” he asks.
“A bit, but… I don’t want her to feel bad for me. She should have a good time, she got last minute tickets to see a band and she loves them. We can just hang out next weekend.” You push the biscuits toward him. “I need to stop eating these all the time.”
You stand up and do a big stretch, arm arched over your head before you laugh and point at him. He’s never had someone look at him like this. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” you say, raising your eyebrows just a touch.
You’re being playful. James’ stomach flips. “I didn’t see a thing,” he says.
You drop your pointing. “Really?”
He covers his eyes.
Your following laughter is even richer.
“This office makes me tired. I’m going to make some coffee before lunch is over,” you say.
You walk away like nothing happened. James is left to ruminate.
He pushes a hand into the crop of his hair and ruffles it, stressed, though the scratch of his nails against his scalp relieves some tension. James is used to being annoyed at you, you were always so irked with him, but lately he struggles to find anger for you. He still loves to tease you and watch your eyes change; there’s no better moments than on the mornings he’s here first and he’s found a new hiding place for your mug, and you’re forced to ask him where it is he put it. Asked is kind, really. More aptly, you demand to know where it is, and promise professional retribution.
You could always drink from a different mug, but James has a feeling you like asking. This morning, you found it by yourself, and you put it smugly on your desk with steam rising from the surface. “You’re getting worse,”
you’d said, and that smugness suddenly felt friendly. Your smile was ten different shades of sweet.
You are… quite sweet. You’re kind. You don’t let much upset you that isn’t James, even when it should. And the James stuff is all superficial. When was the last time you guys argued over something that mattered?
Which isn’t to say he doesn’t love arguing with you. But he’s coming to appreciate another side of you, the side that comes back to your desk with a fresh coffee and little happy breath of air when you see he’s made his two figurines cuddle each other.
“They’re in love,” you say dreamily.
“You can be so lovely,” James says. It’s like something takes over his body.
You put your coffee down. “What?” you ask, smiling as though it’s a joke you don’t get.
He’s not sure he should say it again. “I don’t know. When you smile, you’re really pretty. Like, even more than usual.”
“Ha-ha.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I don’t believe you.”
James takes one of your biscuits. “Then don’t, it doesn’t bother me.” He wishes he hadn’t said it, what a weird thing to say, but he can’t pretend he was kidding, it would be crueller than saying nothing. So he wedges a biscuit in his mouth and laughs when you call him gross, your facade one he doesn’t believe. You wrinkle your nose, but you’re happy underneath it.
Lovely, even.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
General Percy Jackson dating hc⋆°🌊
~ ⋆。‧𖦹 Percy Jackson x Gn!Reader(no pronouns)
Percy is so sassy
I think we as a fandom have established that, however sometimes you underestimate how far he’ll go.
No matter how long you’ve been dating he’ll still be sassy 😔😭
Of course it’s downgraded though
He chose mercy today
Anyway
Although he can get sassy sometimes, there is without a doubt that he loves you.
If there are 100 people who love you Percy is one of them. 1 person who loves you? Percy is that person
Zero? Percy is dead
He absolutely adores you, even if he can be a big idiot sometimes.
Now, when the two of you got together it was pretty much the same as when you were friends
Just romantic
You’d get reminded of your relationship when he calls you his girlfriend/boyfriend/partner
Especially in front of others
Or when he starts holding your hand and kissing you
It’s definitely a change
But not necessarily a bad one
Hes the type of guy to make being your boyfriend his whole personality
(Not actually but let me explain)
He’ll def wear those shirt with “I love my [insert your preferred title]
And he won’t care who sees it 😭
He’s proud no matter what
And is an absolute menace if anyone says anything about it
Or to you, for that matter
He’s powerful and we all know that
You can obviously defend yourself however sometimes he just can’t hold back
If anything were to ever happen to you
Let’s just say the opposing side will be as if it never existed.
I don’t see Percy as the jealous type ngl
I’ve seen many others say he would be and I think he could be, but only sometimes
He knows you’re just as loyal to him as he is to you
However if he sees anyone flirt and you don’t notice or tell them to back off-
He will for you
He won’t hesitate to slide an arm around your waist and ask what the hell the other person is doing with a raised eyebrow
He sasses the other person so much he leaves no room for argument 😭
Percy trusts with everything he’s got
So if you were to ever betray him he’d be crushed
Especially if you really know him
Just don’t betray him 🤷♀️
Percy follows you around all the time when he’s got nothing to do
He’s strong and independent
…wheeennn he’s away from you
He’s always by your side
And he loves to spend time with you too
He can’t say goodbye without hugging or kissing you
That’s a definite quirk of his
He’s technically not supposed to exist but it makes you glad he’s the only demigod child of Poseidon
And the only other person who shares his cabin is Tyson, so that way you two can sleepover and cuddle.
Ofc you guys get to actually do that once Tyson stops talking to you guys 😭
Only when Tyson goes off do you guys have time to chill in his cabin and the sleepovers you have are almost endless
I say almost because you eventually got caught by the harpy’s and luckily Chiron came in time to prevent you guys being ripped to shreds :,)
Before all that happened tho, you and Percy would cuddle and you’d play with Percy’s hair
He LOVES having his hair played with and his scalp massaged
And he accidentally insinuates that he misses that the most out of you getting banned from his cabin
The audacity for him to miss your massages rather than your presence
He let you have his share of desert as an apology for as long as you want 😭😭
You felt guilty so eventually you stopped 😭
If you are a sword fighter like him, you both often spar together.
You hit two birds with one stone
You practice your skills, and get to hang out together
What could be better?
Even then, if you specialize with daggers or a spear then it still works out
Sorry if you’re an archer 😭
Before you’re even introduced to Sally she already loves you!
And vise versa
Percy talks so much about you guys to each other that you practically already met her
And she already knew about you before you guys even started dating 😭
Percy told her (albeit a bit reluctantly) that he had a crush and the rest was history
When you finally meet it’s an automatic click and the both of you hit it off
Honestly Percy’s happy to see two of the most important people in his life getting along.
So, we’re all aware of how much of a menace Percy is, right?
Well he absolutely teases the fuck out of you
If that’s how you’re comfortable with
It’s not bad but it’s definitely silly and makes you smile at his antics, especially when you’re pretending to be mad at him 😭
You’re so weak for him lol
As is he for you
Mans is a simp and a so called “free thinker”
That changes when you step into the room and start talking to him
So after you guys got banned from going into each others cabins for unplanned sleepovers you guys had to make the most of the time you had together during the day
Just imagine an innocent camper walking by and seeing “beat ares, stopped two wars” Percy
The thing is, Percy is absolutely putty in your hands and has his head resting on your lap with your hands in his hair
Some would usually tease but with his reputation nowadays, nobody dares
With the exception of close Ally’s and ofc, Clarisse
It’s little moments that get you guys closer than ever like when there’s campfires and you can just enjoy the moment
Or when you can go into the lake
Which is where you guys had your first kiss
And it was sweet and spontaneous
And then awkward afterwards because of the walk back to your cabins 😭
Even then Percy gave you a quick peck and ran off
Best believe he was kicking his feet once he got back to his cabin 😭
you awoke the next day with being the new hot gossip in camp so that was… interesting
Anyway
I’m aware that I’ve made Percy to be a bit a menace
Although he is exactly that on the regular-
He really does care about you
Sometimes whenever he looks at you he can’t help but think about how lucky he got
He’s glad to have met you and tries his best to let you know at every chance he gets
Even if the things he might say come off as cringe, he means it
Maybe to a less cringey extent tho lolol
Bro can’t help it, he’s a romantic at heart
But only ever for you
#sassy man apocalypse#persassy#perseus jackson#seaweed brain#percy jackson disney+#per#pjo x reader#percy jackson x reader#gn reader#male reader#female reader#percy jackson fandom#percy pjo#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy x reader#percy x male reader#percy jackson x fem!reader#pjo disney+#disney +#riordan universe#riordanverse#rick riordan#percy jackson series#disney#pjo percy#percy jackson fluff#pjo x male reader#camp halfblood#chb
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I get the appeal of wanting to make things nice and give tragic characters a happy life but if you try to do that with a series whose appeal is intense interpersonal drama and tragedy, it just gets incredibly boring to see everyone happy and getting along and being supportive of each other and shit. it makes them so generic, stripping away what made them interesting and compelling in the first place
#the fact that jc left wq and her family to die while wwx saved her and her family#is in fact a very important part of their relationships woth each other#jc and wq dating would never happen in canon even if she actually liked him#likewise jzx stayed with his family and jyl stayed with him#putting them at odds with the wens and wwx no matter how much jyl and wwx loved each other#and jc and wwx have this tragic tortuous relationship marred by parental abuse and rife with cruelty and sacrifice#and these things really matter to their characterizations and personalities#mm and wn arent just one-note side characters they're people with convictions who fought back against#contempt and brutality for themselves and what they thought was right#ugh everyone is so bland in this AU. why do I can about them at all#all mm does is make uhaul lesbian jokes and wn is just a shy and nice aroace guy#which. dont think I dont see that. thin fucking ice#anyway these things are rly important to their characterizations and identities#and idk who these people are or why I should care about them#...still have to finish it tho. I gotta#ficblogging
0 notes
Note
okay, hear me out: mean girl!reader x nerdy/sub!yandere
nerd!yan who gets bullied by you all the time, with harsh name calling and forcing him to do your homework.
nerd!yan who grows intrigued with you. you’re so confident, so pretty, so cool! how can he not like you?
nerd!yan who’s slowly growing more obsessed. his breath hitches whenever you loom over him with that annoyingly hot smirk of yours, calling him such mean, degrading names
nerd!yan who gets jealous whenever he sees you targeting someone else. you can’t bully them!! you should pay attention to him and only him. oh well, he’ll just have to eliminate the competition, so you can go back to “tormenting” him again.
nerd!yan who’s really such a pervert! he followed you home and was pleasuring himself to your scent that lingered on your clothing… such dirty behaviour!
mean girl!reader who returns home to find one of her classmates in her bedroom, and how can she not smile at the sight? he’s so pretty, such a cute little plaything…
mean girl!reader who had always been aware of nerd!yan’s obsessive tendencies, and played along. but now that he’s been caught red handed…
mean girl!reader who degrades poor nerd!yan for being such a disgusting pervert, but submits to nerd!yan’s fantasies anyway. she plays with him, leaving harsh love bites and scratches over his soft skin, reducing him to a moaning, whiney mess.
nerd!yan who’s basically your pet now, obediently following you throughout school, happily accepting all your orders, no matter how demeaning or gross they are.
people who even dare look your way with romantic interest? they get disposed of in…well, let’s just say, messy. oh, but not that nerd!yan will ever let you see it happen! your precious, beautiful eyes should be shielded from such violent acts. but if you ever ask… tilt your head playfully with a soft smile and ask him to let you watch, he might.
tldr; mean girl and a nerdy yandere that are both equally toxic for each other
have an awesome day!! I would really like to see you write a concept like this <3
-Ash
A/N: I'm including someone else's request as I think they mesh well together: "a mean bully!reader with a yandere!loser, where reader basically just uses him like a pet and has him do whatever she wants" I'll be doing my best, but do keep in mind this is written by a loser nerd so I can't guarantee accuracy. I also don't want to be too mean, even if it's hypothetical, y'know? 😭
Nerd! Loser! Yandere x Mean Girl! Bully! Reader
They say being in the right relationship motivates you to strive for the best version of yourself. Sometimes, the opposite is true. What happens when your soulmate brings out your most depraved self?
Content: female reader, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, violence, bullying, loser is meant in a loving way, yandere consents to everything
You really aren't that bad of a person. Or at least you weren't before you met the odd man you now call your boyfriend. How did it all begin? For the sake of full disclosure, alright, you have always been somewhat on the mean side. A little too sarcastic, a little too blunt, perhaps a little too harsh. You don't like soft people and have little patience for their stumbling attempts. But, you can hold your tongue as long as it doesn't involve you.
The meeting, at least from your point of view, was entirely accidental. Despite just starting your university year, your charisma had quickly gained you enough friends and acquaintances to have a stable sample of potential group partners. Except for one class. One single missing person, and you were asked to include a name you didn't recognize. Some young man who almost never showed up to class.
Oh, but he did. He was there for every lecture, for every seminar. His, and yours. His first encounter with you was not what most would call romantic. On day one he'd gotten lost. The crowded halls, the new environment, the noise, the smell, everything overwhelmed him, and he found himself wandering in a panic, until at last he bumped into you. The impact sent him straight onto the ground, books pathetically spilling from his trembling arms. You, on the other hand, remained standing as if nothing happened. "Pull yourself together, dumbass", you hissed through your teeth, looking into his eyes for one brief moment before moving on to your friends: "You have to give it to them straight, otherwise they'll think we're still in high school and someone will hold their hand all the time. It's embarrassing! Grown adults!"
He can't remember anything else from that day. Only your voice, your expression, your stance. Somehow, for whatever reason, that "dumbass" went straight to his heart. To think you'd look after him, a complete stranger. You were right, he needed to recollect himself and figure it out. Something even his own mother omitted to mention.
How he wished he could be like you. The way professors relied on you for discussions, the way your friends flocked for advice. But see, he knew you were faking most of it. That overly sweet smile and exaggerated politeness, all of it was a mask you'd learned to wear at any time. It only came off when dealing with people like him. There was a certain pride in that fact: he'd seen the real you. Not your "friends".
The more he thought about it, the more plagued by need he became. The need to hear you speak to him again, in that raw, unfiltered voice, with that disgusted glare piercing through his entire being. Thus, he did his best - as per your advice - to find another opportunity. The group work. One glance at him was enough for you to remember: "Ah, fuck, you're that dumbass from first day", you whined in frustration. Instant arousal.
And so, your unusual partnership began to develop. Or rather, your game of tormentor versus tormented. (Un)Paid actors and nothing more. It didn't take you long to notice his strange reaction to your verbal aggressions, almost as if the man relished in your ruthlessness. He seemed to know exactly what buttons to press in order to anger you. In return, you decided to see how far you could go until he'd finally cave in. From insults, to flicking him in the forehead, shoving him against the wall, ordering him around like a collared dog. You had your suspicions, but it all culminated when you went over to his little dorm room for a final project review. You'd gotten so upset - what did he even do? - that you pushed him hard into the ground and straddled him, holding onto the collar of his jacket and shouting profanities. A horrified grimace struck his face, and you froze. Have you gone too far? Was he finally going to ask that you stop, and put this strange charade behind? "P-please give me a moment, I..." he panted, frantically trying to move you aside. "I need to take care of myself. I'm so sorry." You hesitantly stood up and noticed the obvious erection in his pants.
You have a strange effect on him. He is not incapable; he knows it very well. And yet, the temptation is too great: to pretend, to exaggerate, to fail, anything to have you take the lead and lovingly scold him in the process. "What do you mean you're too anxious to present your part? Christ, you're useless. Utterly, completely useless." He can't wait to pleasure himself later to the memory of your words. Truly addicting. He doesn't mind being a doormat if it's your feet keeping him down. You bring out his most pathetic, perverted, deplorable self.
The same can be said about you. You've never been this mean to anyone. You hadn't even intended to reach this point, yet something keeps riling you up. Maybe it's his pleading pout whenever he's being reprimanded. The hooded, lustful eyes gazing up at you submissively and waiting for the next burning whip of your tongue. He brings out the worst in you and he loves every second of it.
You unlock the door and march into the bedroom (you've since moved in together). Without a warning, you grip his chin tightly and give the man a firm tug, forcing him to pay attention. "You did something, didn't you? I was supposed to meet with a classmate for coffee and he vanished without a trace. Won't answer my texts or calls." He shakes his head in denial at first, wide innocent eyes glistening in fear. Ah, he can't help it. His lips curl in a crooked grin. He's been caught. You shove two fingers in his mouth, and without delay he twirls his tongue around them hungrily. "What a psychotic bitch you are. You want to be the only one, huh? Is that what it is about?" Between the slurps and the whimpers, you can discern a hurried nod.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere nerd#yandere loser#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere imagine#yandere scenarios#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere male#tw yandere#female reader#obsessive love
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
love me more | leon kennedy x f!reader
pairing: re4r!leon kennedy x f!reader
summary:
“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”
You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.
word count: 19k
warnings: 18+ towards the end, angst, yearning, marriage of convenience but there isn't a tangible convenience, strangers to spouses dynamic, grief/mourning, depictions of depression and low self-esteem, also trauma and anxiety, family issues, kinda touch-starved leon if you squint, domestic fluff if you try hard enough, non-linear and vague timeline, mentions of canon typical violence, alcohol and cigarette consumption, p in v smut, brief alternation of POVs, ada wong mention, suicidal thoughts, minor original character, minor character death, spoilers to the hunchback of notre dame, no use of y/n
notes: meant to post this on tumblr after i was done with it but that never happened so here, have it. took me 16 months to post it here lmao. english is not my first language. you have been warned. also beware of a whole lot of mitski and hozier references. enjoy!
-> read on ao3
>> read PART II.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved
Me and my husband We're doing better
—Me and My Husband, Mitski
It’s quiet. It has always been that way from the start. Your husband is late, which is not unusual. You sit in the somber light coming from your living room TV. You don’t like the overhead lights, which explains the abundance of lamps around the living room and bedroom in your home. Your husband found it strange that you never turned on the actual lights but it didn’t take him long to realize that you were right. Any kind of overhead light was annoying to him now. He blamed you for his headaches at work.
No matter how many times you told him that he could turn on the overhead lights he insisted that he did not like them anymore. “I like it like this,” he had said. “You’re right, it’s cozier this way.” His head was on your knee, his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful. You wanted to brush his hair away from his face and maybe scratch a bit as if he was a cat. But you didn’t, you had no idea what he would react like to such an intimate gesture. You turned your gaze away from his peaceful sleeping face to the TV you had been watching on low volume before he stepped through your home’s front door.
It was a fucking joke, really. Thinking twice, three times about touching the man that you call your husband.
You hear his keys jumble from the door. He didn’t tell you what time he would be home, so you didn’t prepare anything for dinner. It’s late anyways. You consider closing your eyes and resting your head on the back of the couch but it hasn’t been long since he told you he could tell when you were not sleeping. You thought about the number of times you pretended and he could tell. Embarrassing. Now that your secret was out, you had to greet him awkwardly.
He calls your name. “Are you asleep?” His voice very faint.
“No,” you answer while untucking your legs from under your butt. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He places the keys on the keyholder. “No lights?”
You reach to your side and turn on one lamp. “I didn’t realize the sun had set.”
“It’s past eleven.” Now that the lamp was on you could see his worried eyes. His five o’clock shadow prominent. “Did you eat anything?” he asks. You can’t tell if he hopes you did or not.
The moment you see the plastic bag in his hand, you shake your head no. Honestly, you were hungry because it had been hours since you ate a bowl of cereal as dinner.
He steps over your legs instead of pushing the coffee table away to make room for himself and plops next to you on the couch. “Brought Chinese,” he says and places the food bag on your lap instead of the coffee table. “You like their fried dumplings.”
You aren’t surprised that he remembers it. He was nice like that, maybe he thinks this is the least he can do. Soon after the wedding, he realized you did not enjoy cooking. It has never been a problem, he knew his way around the kitchen and knew of really good takeout places.
“Thank you,” you say softly while leaning on the table to place the noodles and the dumplings. “Leon, did you drink?” you ask when you catch a whiff of him.
“Yeah, I’m a little tipsy.”
That explains his lax attitude. He has his arm around you across the back of the couch, he’s sitting close to you. It’s because he wants to eat, you say to yourself. And he’s a little tipsy.
“Did you have fun?” you ask when you separate your chopsticks.
“I wasn’t with anyone,” he says, watching you separate his chopsticks for him. “I had a drink by myself.”
“Only one?” you chuckle.
“One or two,” He cocks his head to your direction and grabs the chopsticks from your fingers. His fingertips are warm.
Unlike you, his body always runs hot. You remember the comment he made when he held your hand and cupped one cheek, kissing you after you two had said “I do”. His breath was hot on the lower part of your face. You somehow felt him everywhere and nowhere at once. “It’s really hot, why are your hands cold?” he had whispered. It was unusually hot on the day you eloped. Leon had to dab his sweat away so often.
“I’m just nervous,” you had whispered back. The hand that he was not holding was trembling, surely, he could tell.
“No need to be.” That was what he said right before your first kiss. It was more of a short peck because he was a gentleman who didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.
It was easier for him to say, he didn’t have anything to be nervous about. He looked really beautiful that day and it didn’t help your nerves one bit. You felt like you were committing a crime while signing your documents that sealed the fact that you were now married to Leon Kennedy. You wonder if he felt the same, knowing this marriage was not a real one.
You didn’t lie to anyone really, so why did it feel like you did? You never told anyone you were in love. You never told anyone this was legit. You just told your sister you were married and that Leon was a good man. She had shrieked over the phone, demanded that you quit joking. The moment she was convinced that you were not, she expected pictures of him. The only picture you had of him was from the day you eloped. He had taken your cold hand and placed it on his arm. His other hand on his stomach so he didn’t look awkward. You had raised your small bouquet of baby’s breath to your torso as well. You did not look as nervous as you thought when the photo came in the mail but Leon looked more handsome than you remembered. You emailed it to your sister.
It didn’t take long for her to respond. How the hell did you bag that man??? Do you have blackmail material against him?
We met at work, you replied shortly.
I thought you worked with dudes that are old as fuck.
We don’t work together. Met through a coworker.
Maybe I should change careers. I mean how hard can it be to train as a government agent???
You looked at the multiple question marks she sent after that. I’m telling your husband.
I showed him the picture and he agrees that he’s hot lol. He also would like to have you guys over.
So you both can ask him what he sees in me?
Hey, I’m only joking. We would really like you guys to come over. I want to meet my brother-in-law.
I’ll tell him but he’s very busy.
Sooo what does he do?
Like I said, he’s an agent. Mostly confidential work.
So you can’t tell me?
I really can’t.
You know what? It’s annoying that you can’t tell me what he does but I can understand. What I can’t understand is you getting married. Out of the blue. Without telling me.
That email left a bitter taste in your mouth. She could tell that it was not real. She knew that you were not easy to love. She knew it was impossible for you to get married. That’s why you stalled her invitation for nearly two years. You hadn’t even asked Leon because you did not know how he would react. He knew you had a sister across the country and that she was older than you but never asked about her for a while. You weren’t offended at his uninterest in your life. He didn’t have any reason to be interested in you.
He did say he was an orphan, that one time.
It all made sense after that, he didn’t like to talk about families. Maybe because he wasn’t used to belong. To belong to a family. Belong to someone. Think about them because he belongs to them and they belong to him.
All things considered, you thought Leon turned out more than okay. Closed off but very kind, gentle, understanding.
He leans forward and helps you split one dumpling into two with his chopsticks. His shoulder bumps yours and stays there because he refuses to let go of the back of the couch behind you. When you pull your sleeve over your fingers, he quickly eats one whole dumpling, leaving you with the smaller one that he helped you split and covers your hand with his.
“You cold?” He looks silly when he stuffs his face full of food.
“No.”
“Your hands are cold.” He doesn’t’ say like always but it’s there in his voice.
He doesn’t mind touching you when he’s in a good mood, mostly when he’s a little intoxicated like this. Usually, he’s not a touchy person. You’re glad he’s not, it reminds you that you definitely like him more than he likes you. He needs the little nudge of alcohol to let go of his inhibitions. He didn’t touch you until you gave him the green light on your birthday. He didn’t know what to get you as a gift so he got you yellow roses and the blandest birthday card known to man.
Happy Birthday, from Leon.
“It isn’t anything special, I know.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not good at this stuff.”
But it was special, it was from him; with his emotionally constipated, probably unintended curt message. You knew deep down he had a big heart. He cared enough to stop on his way to get you these. You didn’t think much, because there were times when you didn’t need to think about this, you just reached and hugged him around his waist. “Thank you,” you whispered. “They smell really nice. We need to get a vase for them.”
He finally put his arms around you and you felt the stiffness of his shoulders on top of yours. It was six months into your married life.
Yellow roses. He saw you as a friend. You were okay with it, as long as it meant he was not pushing you away. You were not terrible by any means. Boring and awkward, definitely. But you made it clear to him that he could talk to you about what he wanted when he wanted. He was adamant that it went both ways. However, you genuinely don’t think anything going in your life is worth talking about. Hence, he’s the one who ends up talking most of the time.
He rubs your fingers to bring them warmth. The air of the living room feels awfully similar to that one time he surprised you and laid his head on your lap. That one time you wanted to play with his hair but didn’t. It was just like this. Quiet despite the TV’s low volume, comfortable as the light coming from the lamps was soft on the eyes, smelling of alcohol as he was a little drunk. Unsure as your hands were cold and was this what being friends meant?
Sometimes he craved the quiet. He worked and worked and worked. Voices everywhere. Danger constant. His only quiet was home, you suppose.
“Why didn’t you eat?”
“I ate cereal,” you answer him.
“Has no nutritional value whatsoever,” he mutters.
“Yeah, it’s just me being lazy.”
“I don’t think we have anything in the fridge, I don’t blame you.”
You both finish your food in silence, you pretend to watch the screen in front of you the whole time. You hug your knees to your chest when you’re done and he looks like he can fall asleep any minute.
“How was your day?” you ask to keep him awake. You don’t want him to sleep here and have his back and neck all sore tomorrow.
He rests his chin on his shoulder and gives you a funny look through his long lashes. “Same as always.”
You admit to yourself that you love him like this. He seems free, happy even.
You decide to be bold and tap your shoulder for him to lay his head on.
He doesn’t seem to be thinking twice as he takes your offer and nuzzles his head on your shoulder. He’s taller and bigger than you, you suppose the position he’s in right now is not comfortable for him. He reaches back around the couch and the other hand crosses his abdomen, gripping your ankle that he is closest to. His thumb draws circles there and your brain short circuits. “How was yours?”
“My day? Nothing exciting. All paperwork.”
He hums as he squeezes your ankle, his hair tickling your nose and lips.
“You really need a shower, Leon.” You make up the courage to smooth down his blonde hair that is sticking up in every direction.
He hums again. “Are you telling me I stink?”
“Yes, mister.”
“I’m tired,” he groans but doesn’t seem tired enough as he pushes his head and messes up your balance on the couch. You have to hold on to the arm rest as he keeps nudging you with his head.
“You’ll feel gross in the morning if you don’t have a shower.”
“You have a point,” he says but does nothing to get up. Maybe it was a bad idea to offer him your shoulder and unknowingly, your ankle. He’s never acted like a kid like this before.
You get up and turn off the TV before you offer him both of your hands. “You’re not tipsy, you’re drunk. Now get up and wash yourself please.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Yes, you are. You headbutted me.”
He takes your hands and finally gets up. “I think I ran out of shampoo.”
“You can use mine. Brush your teeth while I go get it.” You pat his back.
There’s two bedrooms in the house, one is for guests but you’ve never had guests over since you’ve both moved into this apartment. Leon uses the “guest” room downstairs. He insisted that you take the bigger room. He’s more like a roommate than a spouse.
He’s shirtless in front of the sink, brushing his teeth like you told him to when you knock on his bathroom door and hand him your shampoo. He reads the fragrance and opens its cap to smell it.
“Well, you smell nice so I can’t complain,” he says, toothbrush still in his mouth, dribbling toothpaste everywhere.
You love him in moments like these. This is the moment the wife reaches and kisses the husband. Well, maybe after he’s done dribbling everywhere but you know how this moment should go about. He won’t be like this in the morning. You know very well that he is going to be sober and back to normal Leon. He won’t say anything about his drunk self because he knows you won’t as well.
“Don’t fall in the shower!” you shout as you go upstairs to your room.
“I’m not that drunk!”
The next morning, he sees you making coffee in the kitchen. It hasn’t been long since your schedule got aligned with his. He wonders how the hell you managed to adjust your sleeping hours to the point now you could wake up before him. He used to wake up before you because you often had late shifts.
“Morning,” he says as he smells the delicious coffee that you’re pouring into two mugs. He yawns, scratching an itch on his arm. He did not use to have a coffee machine back when he was living alone. You had brought it with you to this house and saved him from Starbucks’ morning rush hour.
You slide one of the mugs in front of him and give him a warm smile. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
He blows on the coffee before he takes a sip. “Much better now.” He clears his throat, his morning voice gruff. “I was thinking… We should commute together.”
“To work?” Your eyebrows shoot up.
“Where else?” he snorts. “What’s surprising? Why pay more for gas when we start work at the same time?”
“Wouldn’t that be…”
“It wouldn’t interfere with anything if you think about it. It’s stupid to take both cars to the same place.”
“I might work overtime,” you say and hug yourself.
He nods into his mug and seems like he wants to say more. “Then you can take your car. You’ve just started normal hours. Why are you eager to tire yourself out so quickly?”
So that we don’t have to be awkward around each other.
“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”
You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.
It is what you repeat to yourself over and over again. It was convenient to have slept with him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. You were lonely. You reckon he had to be, too. Because why else would he want to have sex with you? He did not love you or anything. You could only think of one thing when his face was buried in your neck. You still had his yellow roses. You had preserved them between your book pages.
As he was panting above you, hands grasping your hips with vigor, your thighs caging him in and burning, you felt like a rose stuck between thousands of words never read aloud. Yellow all over, sticking out like a sore thumb between words printed in the smallest font size possible, suffocating. Once belonged with other flowers but now settled down in a place where people thought you’d look pretty.
You hate the color yellow as much as you hate the word convenient. If not, more.
He sees you wince. He cannot guess the reason behind it is his choice of words. “What do you say?”
He is offering, you think. He still likes you enough to ask.
“Okay.”
“Good, we need to get groceries on the way back.”
People don’t whisper much now that it’s been nearly two years since you two announced to your close work circle that you were married. There were a lot of surprised faces at first, thinking maybe Leon was joking or something. People didn’t know you very well. You were only close with Cathy.
“Perhaps we should wear rings,” said Leon once over dinner. “People don’t believe we’re married.”
“Is that a problem? What others think, I mean?”
He stared at your face while chewing, you couldn’t make out what he was thinking thanks to the dim light emanating from one of the lamps. “They think it’s a joke. Is it so bad that I want to be taken seriously for once? You wanted a wedding dress, I want a ring.”
“When do you want to get them?”
That led to you choosing matching rings with Leon. Simple gold bands. You make sure to wear them to work every day because if you don’t, you worry people will start to whisper again.
First it was, Leon’s not the type to get married, he’s taking the piss out of us, is it April fools today?
Then it turned into: Oh God, he’s serious, he says he got married last weekend.
Eloped? To whom?
He said her name but I don’t remember it, said she’s in archives now.
He’s married to an archivist? How on earth did they meet?
Probably in Donovan’s funeral, saw Hunnigan introducing them.
That wasn’t long ago!
I know, right?
You know some of them thought you had a one-night stand and got pregnant from him. The rumors subsided when that didn’t turn out to be true.
However, people were curious about why Ingrid Hunnigan would introduce an archivist to an agent. It didn’t take long for your name to become known because you had recently switched departments. You had been a systems analyst like Hunnigan, working with late Cathy Donovan. You’d switched to archives after her funeral.
People greeted you when they saw you. Leon’s wife, right?
Yes, but not really.
The first time Leon ever saw you was during agent Donovan’s funeral. He’d gotten back from Spain just a week ago. He did not know agent Donovan well but her name echoed in every corner. She was good at her job. Most of the time, nobody had an idea what she was up to.
“Leon, I want you to meet Cathy’s partner,” said Hunnigan, holding the shoulder of the woman standing next to her.
You stuck your hand out for him to shake and told him your name. It sounded disconsolate coming from your mouth, your own name. Your eyes were dazed, you kept your mouth in a thin line. You didn’t even look at him properly as if this was the hundredth occurrence today, Hunnigan introducing you to someone.
“I’ve heard a lot of great things about agent Donovan.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“Right, she was great,” you said, your eyes straying elsewhere. It looked like Hunnigan’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing keeping you from crumbling down. You looked so small with your shoulders hunched forward. He cringed when he saw you rip out the flesh of the side of your thumb.
Hunnigan went on about Cathy Donovan’s accomplishments to him. You continued to pick at your thumb, him watching your side profile as you kept averting your gaze from people around you. You seemed to be dissociating hard.
“These two were inseparable. I tried asking Cathy to work with me on a small mission once and she praised her so much in turn, I had to suck it up and meet this woman myself as soon as possible,” said Hunnigan heatedly. “I’m such a big fan of Cathy’s, you see, I couldn’t be upset. I love seeing her work with the best.”
“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you managed to say, a beat too late. “I need to use the restroom, be right back.”
Leon knew too well that losing someone was difficult, yet he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. He furrowed his brows the moment his hand made contact with your upper arm. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, he didn’t want to seem like he took pity on you.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
You made the effort to look him in the eye when it was obvious as day that you were having a hard time keeping your head up.
Your voice barely came out, “Thank you.”
Of course, you did not recognize him the second time he saw you. It was his late celebratory dinner for his mission in Spain. His coworkers had planned a small one, saying he deserved it. Once he was done with his food, he excused himself saying he wanted to get fresh air.
Not too far from the restaurant, you were sitting on a bench alone.
“Those things will kill you, y’know,” he said, eyes pointing to the cigarette you were smoking.
His unexpected voice caused you to jump in your seat. You quickly put the cigarette out by stomping it with your shoe. “I don’t usually… smoke.”
He dragged his feet while walking to sit down on the opposite end of the bench. “You didn’t have to put it out.” Though he thought you were very considerate by doing so.
“Congratulations, for the mission.”
“Thank you— name’s Leon, by the way.”
You stuck your chin out to the direction of the restaurant, “Or so I heard in there.”
“We actually met before. At the funeral.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t remember half the people I met there.”
“No need to be sorry. You seemed out of it.”
“Yeah, we worked together for a long time, Cathy and I.”
“Look, I know it’s hard and anything I say probably won’t make any difference—”
“You don’t need to—” Your voice quite literally got stuck on your throat, you composed yourself by bringing the side of your fist to your mouth and coughed into it. “I’m trying to get better. I’m here today, which is a miracle in of itself. I know people think it’s probably good to talk about her but I’m just not in the mood, okay? Thank you for your understanding but I don’t need to be reminded, it happened not so long ago.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“No, I know you mean well.” You started to sway your feet on the gravel. It was completely understandable for you to lash out but you seemed uneasy as soon as it was out of you. “Sorry, this is your happy day. I shouldn’t—”
“You realize how many times we said sorry to each other in this past minute?” he laughed. “Also, I lost a partner in Spain. I’m not that happy today.”
Your voice turning faint, seemingly regretting your flash of anger a moment ago, “You probably feel like you shouldn’t be happy.”
He nodded. “He helped me a lot but didn’t make it.” He saw your mouth open and stopped you there. “Don’t say you’re sorry. It loses its meaning when you say it too much.”
“Even if I mean it with my whole heart every time?”
“That means you’re sorry for a lot of things. It’s not healthy to carry that much weight on your shoulders.”
“Right, I’ll be like Quasimodo.” You hunched your shoulders even more forward. “Like the hunchback.”
“From the Disney movie?”
You giggled at his childishness. “Yeah, I heard there’s also a book about it.”
He looked at your squinted eyes and thought you deserved to be happy more.
As you two carried on your now meaningless conversation, he did not know that you were certain on resigning from your job and never turning back to it. You’d started to work on the archives that week, partly because your boss had foreseen you contemplating quitting all together and did not want to lose a highly valuable member such as yourself and partly because you had requested it.
At that point, you were absolutely aware of the fact that they feared you’d never turn back to your former position. And because Cathy didn’t have any plans of ever becoming alive, you also didn’t have any plans on returning. But you knew the reason behind them doing anything you asked was them giving you time to grieve. After that, the pressure would build even more and hopefully make you take your old place.
“It was Hunnigan’s idea,” you said to Leon after he asked you very kindly why you were here tonight. “Basically dragged me here. She thinks I should be around people more.”
“She’s right. I’m glad you came.”
Leon was cute, alright. That didn’t do him justice, actually. It was evident under the street light where the bench was that he worked out regularly. Biceps giving a hard time to his sleeves every time he moved, veins protruding on his forearms, his thighs looking like they’d help him carry ten people on his large back. And oh, his broader-than-the-horizon shoulders. An absolute unit of a man with cheekbones and jawline honed like a Greek statue. With his dark blonde hair falling on his face in that charming way and his oh so kind blue eyes, you knew he was out of your league.
His gentle aura making him seem like a Prince Charming or a white knight or whatever the fuck those Disney movies had.
You planned on never seeing anyone from work again, you had nothing to lose. And Cathy so would say to shoot your shot.
“I’m thinkin’ of getting a few drinks in me, want to tag along?”
“What do you have in mind?” He seemed interested, a good sign.
“You got any suggestions? And don’t say beer because I plan on getting wasted beyond recognition in like an hour.”
“Yeah, be careful. And don’t drink and drive.” The way he took a U-turn on his interest irritated you. You really thought he wouldn’t say no, you were getting along well, flirting even. “Did you come here with your car?”
“Yeah.” You tried to not sound upset. “I’m not a teenager. I’ll take a cab. Drinks will be on me.”
“Ah, thanks but I’ll have to refuse. They’ll probably wonder where I went. It’s my dinner, after all.” The polite smile he gave you was so infuriating.
You got up from the bench. He had the audacity to look you up and down after that. “Then please tell Hunnigan I’m sorry I left early, will you?”
“I will.” He fidgeted and crossed his arms. Oh God, you’d made him uncomfortable. It was just minutes ago he was sort of flirting with you. “Don’t drink too much.”
God, why did he have to be so annoying?
The next time you two met was at the closest pharmacist to work, few weeks after his dinner and your failed attempt to get him in your bed.
“One box of aspirin, please.” Your head snapped up at that voice. Unmistakably, Leon. With his broad back facing you, he hadn’t seen you yet.
“What can I get you, miss?”
Leon stepped over to the side when they called to you, still not looking at you.
“Eyedrops, please.”
“Miss, are you alright?”
To that, he did a double-take. You’d looked disheveled to the point of worry. Eyes and nose a few shades redder than the rest of your face, eyebags puffy and makeup smudged. With your now extremely frizzy baby hairs doing anything but their job of framing your face, it was apparent that you’d been crying.
“Yes, it’s just an allergy.”
“Can I get you anything for that?”
“No, thank you. I already have meds for it.”
Leon thanked when they gave him his aspirin and turned to you. “Wait here, don’t go anywhere.” He quickly left the pharmacist.
Surprisingly, you did wait for him outside. Why? You had no idea. Frankly, you were hoping to cry more in your car.
Approximately five minutes later, he came to you jogging lightly. He thrusted a water bottle in your hand. “Where’s your medication?”
“What?”
“For your allergy?”
“Oh, um—” You couldn’t find a lie fast enough, usually you were not bad at lying but the way he appeared to be worrying about your well-being was baffling to say the least. “I don’t have it, I mean—” You pressed the water bottle to your stomach and held on to it for comfort. “I don’t have an allergy.”
It was his turn to be baffled. “Are you alright?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“You don’t look like it.” He looked at you and around you as though checking to see any injury. “You should drink up.” He motioned to the bottle and watched you take a gulp.
“Thank you. Oh, you should, too,” You tried to give him the rest of the water while his stare questioned you. “For your aspirin.”
“I already took it. I’m supposed to take it with water?”
“Yes, Leon. Have you been taking them without water this whole time? Then why did you bring me water?”
“I didn’t know that! You looked dehydrated.”
“That’s not good for you. Now I’m worried about your stomach.”
His blue eyes shined like he came to a revelation. “That’s why my stomach burns when I take them?”
How are you this stupid, you suppressed saying, if you had known him well enough at that time, you definitely would. You forgot for a second that you were annoyed at him for rejecting you few weeks ago and find yourself flabbergasted at thinking that he is endearing, in a way.
You made small talk with him about his lunch break and he insisted on walking you to your car.
“Can I help you with anything?” he said sympathetically once you stood in front of your open car door. “You still look…”
Like a truck hit me, you wanted to complete his sentence.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine. It just happens time to time.” You tried to make yourself presentable by adjusting your blouse and hair.
“It?”
“Sometimes I cry for no reason. It happens randomly, too, I don’t know when and where I’ll be crying most of the time. Like, I’ll be reading something, it doesn’t have to be sad, I mean— I was reading reports before I came here. Sometimes it gets too much, like now.”
“Will you be okay driving?”
“Yeah! Talking with you definitely helped.” His apprehensive gaze pierced through you. You actually felt like crying again, your chest feeling tight, eyes burning. You stood upright with the support of your car door. “I’ll be fine, Leon.”
“I’m choosing to believe you. Drive safe.” He shifted his weight on one of his legs and seemed ready to take off.
“Thank you. See you around?”
“You probably won’t for a while,” he said to the ground, soothing the itch on his calf with his other leg’s shin. He looked up and squinted his eyes against the sun. “I got assigned a mission. I don’t know for how long.”
“Oh, I’ll be at your celebratory dinner then, if I get an invitation.”
“Well, I don’t know how it will go. I’ll only invite you if you won’t talk for the whole dinner but flirt with me outside again.”
“You didn’t need to embarrass me like that,” you chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t say I’m a push and pull kind of woman.”
“You can show me what kind of woman you are when I get back?”
“Very smooth, Leon.”
He seemed taken aback. “I’ll see you then.” Suddenly, he was distant again. This time you didn’t know what made him uneasy.
“Yeah… Be safe on your mission.”
He just nodded. You got in your car and gripped the steering wheel tightly until the sight of his leather jacket clad back disappeared. You hunched forward, shoved your forehead to the wheel and tried to take a deep breath. The crying spell didn’t go away as the tears burst down first and then the sobs jerked your entire body.
I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
—Like Real People Do, Hozier
The inside of Leon’s car smells nice, he takes good care of it.
“I’m going to see my sister this weekend,” you say, averting your gaze from the way he steers the wheel with one hand. His other hand is on his knee, tapping away. The effect his toned arms have on you is humiliating.
“I think I can make it.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t have anything that day. I can go with you. It’s your mother’s death anniversary, right? I think it’s time I pay my respects.”
It’s these things he says that leave you puzzled. He’s incredibly thoughtful, no matter who he’s talking to. He very well could have his day off-work for himself, but he asks anyway.
“Do you actually want to meet my sister?”
“I do. I hope to make a good first impression.”
You think about it for a second and end up telling him. “I sent a picture of you to her back when we got married.”
“How’d you get a picture of me?” he asks, appalled. The only picture he has of himself besides the wedding one is on his badge.
“Our wedding picture, dummy. We have one, remember?”
“Oh, right, I forgot.” You can’t complain because you keep it in a dresser drawer in the envelope it came in. He was on duty again when it came and you’d showed it to him once he was home. The left corner of his lips had curled up and for a second, you thought you saw affection in his eyes. “It came out okay? I was sweating buckets, but you—" he’d said and pointed a finger to your face in the photo. “Your hands were ice cold, I nearly asked you to paste your hands to my forehead just so I could cool down.”
“We still have the picture, right?” he asks.
“Yes, it’s in my room. Why?”
“Can I have it?”
“Yeah, they sent two. Can I ask what you’re going to do with it?”
“Give it to the mafia or hire a hitman to go after you, what else?” He lets out a hollow laugh. You want to record the sound and have it forever play in your ears. “I want to frame it and put it on my desk. People usually have pictures of their spouses and children or even their dogs on their desks, no?”
Yes, you know. You have pictures with your best friend and sister on your own desk at work.
It’s his way of saying you mean something to him.
You call your sister’s name as soon as you see it. “Why do you have this picture here?”
She’s carrying the empty plates to the sink as you hold on to her fridge’s door handle.
She looks up to see you pointing at your wedding picture. It’s on her fridge. You don’t even display it in your own house.
“You printed it?”
“I did,” she says. “It’s a good picture.” Her house is littered with pictures of her and her husband on different vacations, of you and your mother and her together in some.
“You just met Leon today.”
“And I think he’s great. You’re happy with him. That’s all I could ask for.”
You were happy since he was in a good mood the entire ride coming here. It was long but you two had a smooth ride and he amused you with his corny jokes and stories. You tore small pieces of bagel and fed him when he said he was getting hungry. He was tired from driving the whole time, but of course he didn’t have it any other way and jestingly banned you from getting behind the wheel. He did make a good first impression like he promised, although he kept bobbing his cramped leg. He’s now in the backyard with your brother-in-law, chatting about football, probably.
Your sister gets your attention by giving you a side hug and rubbing your back. “You’re my only sister, of course I’m going to have a picture of your happiest day.”
You hug her back around her waist. She even had photos of your birth in the living room. Your mom in a hospital bed, one day-old baby you cradled in her arms, your father hugging your mother and looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. Did he know then, that he would never be there for you to look at you like that again?
“You remember dad, right?” you ask quietly. She was older and was able to tell stories about him to you. “How was he like? Before he left, I mean.”
“Like I told you, he loved us so much. I don’t know if it was the same case for my mom. She later told me she saw it coming, that he likely had another woman.”
“How did mom know?”
Your sister sighs and rest her head on top of yours. “She said she could just feel it. Said he felt distant. He used to come home late leading up to it, sometimes drunk. One day I woke up and he wasn’t home. Didn’t say anything, just abandoned us like that.”
There’s that sadness again, creeping up to your chest and placing a big rock there. You feel like you’re being crushed by it. Your mom had always been ambitious, had dreams for herself and her family, deserved so much more than what she got.
Leon’s laughing loudly in the backyard, your head whips to see the sight.
“Come on, go mingle with your husband. I got it from here,” says your sister and starts to place the dishes in the dishwasher.
“I’ll go get us some beer,” says your brother-in-law and gets up from his chair. The weather is amazing today, your sister had set up a nice meal outside. Leon was getting along with them well. What more could you ask for?
You find yourself alone with Leon when your brother-in-law goes inside the house. You sit next to him and he promptly puts his arm on the back of your chair.
“How’s your leg?” you ask him.
“My thighs are sore,” he groans. “Good thing we’re not driving back tonight.”
“Well, I wouldn’t let you anyways.” You put a hand on his knee and start to massage, hoping it will help his aching legs. You’re even bolder than a few days ago. He doesn’t seem to mind it.
“It hurts here,” he says and grabs your hand, placing it higher on his thigh. “You can put more pressure, I can hardly feel it.” His thigh is firm and thank God, your hands manage to stay stable. You ball your hands into fists and start to punch lightly where he wants. The meat of his thighs doesn’t even jiggle, reminding you that he’s mostly made of muscle.
You focus up on his knees. “I’ll drive us to the cemetery tomorrow.”
“I can—”
“No. You’re tired, Leon. I want to drive, don’t make me upset.”
“Would you actually be upset if I—”
“Yes, very.” You pinch his thigh and that makes him press his lips together.
“They’re really nice, you know,” he means your sister and her husband. “I feel like an ass for not meeting them sooner.”
“You like them?” You raise an eyebrow.
“I do.”
“So, any propositions?”
“Huh?”
“Got asked for a threesome yet?” you smirk.
“I’m sorry?” He’s horrified and you find it funny.
“After I sent the wedding picture to them, they both said you were hot. I just remembered it.”
“I’d rather not know that!”
“Relax, Kennedy. I’m just joking. They’re not gonna ask you that.”
He visibly relaxes and puts you in a headlock in a play-fight manner with the arm that was behind you. His nose and mouth pressed up against your hair, he says, “I’ll just tell them I’m a one-lady type of man if they ever do.” You consider biting his arm.
“Can the lovebirds look up here for a second?” chirps your sister. She has come with her camera outside. “It’s the golden hour.”
Leon adjusts his head to look towards the camera and relaxes his hold on you, arm dangling from your shoulder, other hand engulfs yours on his knee, rings clashing.
“Aww,” your sister coos as she takes the photo. “I’ll send this to you.”
She doesn’t suspect a thing, probably because you’re not pretending anymore.
You splash your face with cold water after you’re done brushing your teeth in your sister’s guest room bathroom. Leon’s inside the room, splayed out on the bed, exhausted after today. It won’t be awkward, you say to yourself, hope to God your hands don’t start to tremble from anxiety.
Leon has taken off his t-shirt, bent one of his knees and put his hands behind his head. Not helping your case by looking irresistible. Even the tufts of hair under his arms are endearing to you.
“How are you holding up?” he asks once you sit on the bed next to him, back facing him. He knows you will visit Cathy too when you get back.
“I’m good, Leon.” You take off your ring and place it next to his on the bedside drawer. “Never been better, actually. I missed them.” You twist your upper body to face him. “Here,” you say as you place your newly washed cold damp hands on both sides of his face in attempts to cool him down.
He shivers, his shoulders going up slightly for a quick second. “That’s nice,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. You’re silent, in part because you’re speechless before his beauty, but you also would like to try to give him a little piece of serenity he needs.
“This used to be my mom’s room when she was living here.”
He hums softly and opens his eyes, his hands coming up to hold on to your bare arms, the skin between his eyebrows pinched.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, hands finding place on his broad shoulders.
He starts to rub your arms up and down, his hands stopping after a while to trace a strap of your tank top with his fingers. All of your worries about intimate gestures going out the window the moment you let his hands wander.
This is the tender domesticity that you’ve been longing for so badly, you want to thank him.
He scrunches his nose. “I wanted to kiss you, now I think it’ll be inappropriate.”
Your breath hitches in your throat. Your grip on his shoulders is now stronger, begging not to tremble. He feels lonely, he shouldn’t have come here. You have to swallow hard. “It won’t.”
His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, he’s staring at your lips like he doesn’t wish for anything else. “C’mere.” He tugs at your hip to get the lower half of your body up on the bed. He drapes you halfway on his torso.
Once you’re situated to his liking and casting a shadow on his face, he brings you down ever so gently to his mouth, massaging your nape. He’s hot all over, his mouth, his breath on your face, his chest, the hand that’s splaying his fingers on the small of your back. With his soft lips moving lazily against yours, you’re quite literally bursting at the seams. The muffled sigh he drags across your mouth tempts you to press your entire body to his harder and sling your leg across his hips.
His kisses turn into open-mouthed ones and he tastes like minty toothpaste and sunlight on golden hour.
A small noise comes out of your throat, hands straying down to his bare chest and he has to cradle your face to stop. “We should sleep.” His Adam’s apple bobs enticingly. “I seriously don’t want to disrespect your mother’s ghost.”
A laugh escapes your lips as he hugs your head and buries it to his chest, his chin resting on top. “You’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”
It’s okay, you think when you feel the low timbre of his chuckle on his chest. We’re okay. We’re doing better.
There's no plan, there's no race to be run The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come I'll be your man if you got love to get done Sit in and watch the sunlight fade Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein
—No Plan, Hozier
The fourth time you saw Leon Kennedy was at a bar. You thought his coworkers were going to be there to see him after his mission but it was just you two.
He had emailed you a day before, saying he asked for your email address from Hunnigan, inviting you for drinks the next day and apologizing for letting you know this late.
“Where’s everyone? Am I early?” you asked, despite noticing the table he was sitting at was for two people.
He looked up and you were taken aback by the sight of him. He looked tired. He had a bit of a stubble and his hair was tousled. “No, you’re right on time,” he said, getting up to pull your chair for you. “It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise,” you said, ridding yourself from your jacket. You actually put in the effort to look good that day. A nice outfit, a little bit more makeup, hair done.
As you sat down in front of him, a corner of his lips went up, “You look good.”
“The last time we spoke wasn’t my best moment.”
“How have you been?”
You placed your hands on the table and started to play with your fingers, anxious. “Since then? Better, I suppose. How about you? Your mission went well?”
“Depends on how you define well.”
“You’re still in one piece.”
“If only that was enough.” You didn’t get to see his disappointed expression for long when a server came up to your table and Leon quickly ordered a drink, asked what you wanted and waited with his hands together on the table.
Once the server was away, you slightly leaned towards him. “They should be grateful that they got their best agent back alright.” Although you couldn’t ask him any details about his mission, you knew he was a special agent that was good at this job.
“Hunnigan told me you’re in the archives.”
“Yeah, that happened months ago, before your dinner.”
“Why the change of heart?”
“I—uh…” Your throat felt dry under his piercing stare. “I wasn’t needed there anymore. So I transferred.”
“Really? I heard it’s quite the opposite.”
“Oh, they’re talking about me?”
“Yes, seems like they really want you to work with agents again.”
“I know that,” you said and dug your fingernails to the corner of the table, his eyes following the motion.
“What do you mean?” he said, scratching his jaw. “You said you weren’t needed.”
“I felt like I wasn’t being useful. I tried to quit. They tried really hard to keep me there. Now, they’re constantly asking me to come back after everything.”
“They do know how to squeeze the last bit out of everyone,” he nodded. “Are you happy with where you are right now?”
“As in life?” You rolled your eyes thinking about it. “What does it look like?”
“I was worried the last time I saw you.” He sounded sincere.
“I know, I looked miserable.” Probably looked like the physical embodiment of a cry for help, too. “Can we not dwell on it, please? I’m better now. But now you—” You reach and tap on the middle of the table. “You look like you need to sleep for days.”
“That would be great,” he sighed.
You kept looking at the door but no one from work was coming in. “Why is no one coming, Leon?”
“They won’t, to be honest with you. I only invited you.”
Your back was then one with the chair. “Oh.”
“I should’ve let you know, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t mind the quiet,” you smiled. And then you realized, he was doing the same thing you were doing, pushing anyone and anything away.
Him reaching out to you, this was his cry for help. Why you specifically, you didn’t know.
“You told me you lost a partner in Spain, were you close?”
To that, he dropped his chin and stared at his lap. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t know him. We met under strange circumstances and ended up helping each other. I got the impression that he regretted a lot of things but wanted to believe people could change.”
“I believe people can change, for the better or worse,” you mumbled.
Your server came with your drinks. Leon didn’t waste a second and downed nearly half of his drink. “You tried to quit?” he asked.
“I did. I thought it was time for a little stability in my life. This is as far as I can get to it,” you said and took a sip of your drink which was the same one as Leon. It was strong.
“Stability. That’s unlikely in this job,” he scoffed, fingers tapping at his glass.
“Do you see it as impossible, Leon?” You desperately hoped he would say no, you needed to hear from someone that it wasn’t just a pipe dream.
He seemed to be thinking for a slow moment. “I guess, for some people, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
“For you it would?” you inquired.
“I once thought I would marry my first girlfriend. I was like what? Twenty, twenty-one? I was really stupid and in love. If twenty-one-year-old Leon saw this, he would be devastated,” he said and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can find someone who would understand what I do. It’s not like I can tell them. They’d be in danger because of me. I can’t ask them to trust me blindly. I wouldn’t want them to.”
“If someone was willing to accept you as you are, do you think..?”
“Who in their right mind would?” he groaned in exasperation.
“I would. But my situation is different, I have an understanding of what you do. I also can’t be in any more danger than I already am.” There was a beat of silence after you said that. The drink was definitely too much for you, you were sure. Your ears were burning hot, one hand coming up to cool one down with your nervous cold fingers, your eyes roamed the whole place. You chugged the remaining of your drink and wiped your mouth.
“Whoa, slow down there,” he bolted and looked at your abashed face as if he was in a contemporary art museum, trying to understand what the artist meant with their absurd piece.
Feeling self-conscious, you fixed your hair and babbled out, “Why did you get into this line of work in the first place?”
His back straightened, shoulders rolling back. “I was… recruited.” You didn’t quite understand how but remained from prodding any further. “I was the best candidate for what they wanted. An orphan who didn’t have anything to lose.”
It really wasn’t going well for you. You wanted to bang your head against the table and avoid looking at him completely but after what he had revealed to you, you couldn’t be any ruder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
If Cathy were to hear about this, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Good job honey, that’s one way to woo a man. She would’ve said it in that sarcastic tone which she infamously was a master of.
“No, it’s fine,” said Leon. “You could do so much better than me, though.”
Have you seen yourself, you wanted to exclaim.
Your nostrils were wide, trying to sober you up by hogging as much oxygen as possible, you tried to remain calm, you were feral however. “Why do you keep putting yourself down, Leon? You know, you could’ve called your friends today and they would’ve come running to you. You’re a great person, they don’t give a damn about how successful your mission was. They’re happy that you’re back, that’s all. They are your friends, not the alcohol.”
He was dead silent, staring at his glass with an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
“I’m sorry for overstepping but I saw how they were trying to look out for you at the dinner. There wasn’t even a glass of wine there, celebration my ass. Everybody can tell you’re not fine. I don’t know you that well but even I can tell. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t healthy. It’s self-destructive.”
He wiped his forehead. “You’re the one to talk.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hunnigan’s always talking about how you’re running away every time you see her. She has to drag you everywhere. She’s being nice to you, you could try appreciating that, you know? And you’re clearly stuck up on something, are you trying to repent for your sins or what?” He quite literally disarmed you with his icy stare.
“I’m not Catholic,” you retorted.
“Well, would you look at that. We’re more similar than I thought.” The smirk he had on was sardonic, the furthest from being friendly. You felt an urge to get up and never look back.
“Wrong,” you said as you crossed your arms. “I don’t expect alcohol to solve my problems.”
“Yeah, you’d rather run away from them. And that isn’t going well for you, is it?” He finished his drink and motioned for the server for another. “Also, stop being a hypocrite.”
“Excuse you?” you said with seething anger.
“Are you not trying to ‘get wasted beyond recognition’ right now, as you put it?” he sneered and pointed out your empty glass.
“That was one time, I usually don’t drink. And I’m not planning on drinking more.”
“Oh, did I ruin your fun?”
“Stop that,” you said through your gritted teeth. “Stop being mean. I’m not your friend. You don’t have to push me away. I don’t know why you invited me here. I can just get up and go, leave you with whatever you have up your ass that’s making you act like this. I’m only asking you to stop putting yourself down so much and you’re being all defensive. You know what, I don’t deserve this.” You got up from your chair, grabbing your jacket and purse.
He stood up quickly and tried to follow you. “Sit down, Leon. Your drink is coming.” You didn’t give him any chance to reply and threw the amount of cash that covered your single glass of alcohol on the table.
The walk from the noiseless bar to the nearest bus stop was not pleasant, to say the least. The air was biting cold, hitting your warm cheeks and making you shiver.
Leon only lost sight of you because he stopped to tip the server generously. He fucked up big time, he knew that. It was going to be a pain in the ass if you already jumped in a cab but he had hope that no vacant cab was passing the area on a Friday night.
He was stupid to think this would go smoothly. The last time he saw you, he was concerned about you. The way you’d casually admitted you were not fine was echoing in his mind. He wanted to see if you’d be there by the time he was back from duty. He admitted he was scared for you, for that woman who seemed so small during the funeral, for that woman who had a meltdown in her car in the middle of the day, barely hanging on.
He wanted to tell you today that maybe you should quit. But you had already crossed that bridge.
Maybe you wanted to help people, too. At least at the beginning. Now you wanted peace and quiet, because your life has been anything but. Unlike you, he gave up on that a while ago. He wanted to regard your daring words— I would— as being drunk, he really did.
Ada would never admit she’d want something like that to him, to anyone. Ada didn’t want a stable life, she would never live at a place longer than a month, work with someone more than twice. Even after all of their encounters, Leon still didn’t know what her actual motives were. Raccoon City, Spain, his last mission.
It was pitiful, the way his breath would hitch every time he saw a dark-haired woman wearing red out of the corner of his eye. His heart would pound in his ears for a quick second before he’d realize he was mistaken. He would allow himself, for a brief moment, that maybe it was Ada, here to see him. However, she was never the one to be sentimental. Her every action had a tangible intention that Leon could never guess.
But Leon knew she cared. Enough to save him every goddamn time he needed saving. Enough to ask him to come with her. If he was twenty-one, he would’ve chosen to tail behind her, ready to follow her wherever. Except he had changed, he was not naive anymore. He’d like to think he made the right choice by separating their ways back in Spain. He didn’t know if he was going to be used again.
He also didn’t know what would become of them. Needless to say, he wasn’t going to abandon the mission and ride off into the sunset with Ada yet a part of him wondered about their alternate universe in which he chose to follow her. What would have happened if he just hopped onto that helicopter with her? Where would she have taken him? Was she planning on greeting him properly after all those years? Was he ready to forgive her after Raccoon City?
Perhaps she would have dropped him off somewhere, with a phone number or an address, leaving him confused yet again. Maybe he would’ve reached out, met her in a different circumstance where they didn’t have to constantly run away from trouble. Maybe she’d be living in a small flat and then she’d ask him to come over. Maybe he’d continue to visit her, make himself familiar with her small space.
Except that was not feasible at all, since she was a fleeting kind of woman, just like all the moments they shared. Not there to stay. And none of these would happen, it would always be a different hotel room, different city, barring him from being constant in her life.
A puppy love, he used to think. Young, naive, credulous love. No, he realized, it got older and bigger, sicker. It was time to put it down, put it out of its misery.
He sprinted to the bus station, his hunch was right, you were sitting there, arms folded on your chest, alone. You looked up the moment you heard his footsteps. He left a few steps between you two and braced himself by putting his palms on his knees.
“Why did you come here?” he asked, his eyes were focused on your red nose. Probably from the cold, he convinced himself.
“What do you mean? You asked me to,” you grimaced.
“You said we’re not friends, so why did you come here?”
Your head turned opposite of Leon, resting your chin on your shoulder and hugging yourself tighter. “I wanted some company,” you grumbled, the collar of your jacket muffling your voice. “I think Hunnigan’s right and I might need it.”
“Sorry I’m not a decent one.” He took slow steps to sit next to you on the narrow bench of the bus stop, his shoulder grazing yours. That made you perk up at him.
“I’m sorry for the things I said earlier,” you said, holding his gaze.
“You said a lot of things.”
“Well, I’m sorry for all of them, I crossed a line.”
“Don’t be, I needed the scolding.”
“I didn’t mean to scold you.”
He knocked his knee to yours. “Do you always regret the things you say immediately after? I was an asshole, you got angry, rightfully so.”
“But I was the one who started it,” you pursed your lips.
“Doesn’t matter, we’re not kids.”
“I, uh, called a taxi, should be here in a few minutes,” you said after a minute of silence.
“Okay, tell me something in the meantime.”
“What do you want to hear?”
His thumb caressed his brow, he was contemplating. “Would you consider marrying me?”
“What?”
“Would you marry me? If I asked?”
“No, I heard you the first time.” Your eyes took in every inch of his face, searching for a sign, anything that might explain this. “Leon, are you drunk?”
“No, I’m nowhere near drunk. It takes more than one drink for me to get buzzed.” He crossed his arms, imitating you. “Think about it, we can both try to live calm and stable.”
Your face was contorted in confusion, still for a slight pause. “People don’t marry out of spite, Leon. They marry out of love.”
“Who said anything about spite?”
“You’re clearly angry at something or someone.”
“I am not.”
“This life you are living right now… isn’t quite what you planned, is it? Some things didn’t go according to plan and now you’re here, trying to steer the reins again. And you’re angry.”
“What are you, my therapist?” This time his comeback didn’t sound as if it was meant to hurt you, but to make the air between you lighter. “I guess I do resent some things, doctor.”
You went along with his enactment. “Admitting is a huge step Leon, I appreciate the honesty.”
“Now you be honest,” he said, bouncing his leg in impatience. “Are you in a relationship? Am I being creepy by cornering you like this?”
“I’m not and I don’t feel cornered. If I did, I’d just get up and go. You just saw.”
He nodded, his lips in a thin line. “Experienced firsthand how you run away from your problems and I don’t mean it figuratively.”
You chuckled. “You are not a problem in my life.”
“Not a friend either.”
Your smile dropped. “I don’t think we know each other that well.”
He hummed, looking far away. “That’s probably your cab.” He got up, shaking off dust from his jeans. “Take my number before you get in and let me know when you make it home safe.”
You gave him your number but didn’t get to write your name in his contacts as the cab drew near. “Thanks for keeping me company, you didn’t need to run after me,” you said as you handed him his phone.
“We won’t dwell on it,” he winked as he opened the back door of the cab for you. “And think it over, okay?”
“What?”
“My proposal. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient.”
“Tell me one good thing that will be convenient.”
“Uh, okay. Here’s two for you,” he said and held up two fingers. “A better healthcare plan and tax benefits.”
You laughed and the driver seemed annoyed that you were still standing in front of the open door. “I should get going.”
“Text me when you get home,” he said when you finally got in the car.
You texted him again two weeks after his ridiculous proposal.
Hi, Leon. Do you remember what you asked me after the bar two weeks ago?
Hi. Yes I remember.
Were you being serious or should I pass it as tipsy nonsense?
There was no response from him for a few minutes and you had started biting your nails nervously.
I was being serious. I wasn’t tipsy.
You stared at his short text longer than it took him to reply. You had already made up your mind but it felt cheap telling him over a text. This was not the proper way of doing this. You also didn’t know how to convey this to him, so you resorted to a playful text.
Ask me properly and I’ll consider it.
I’ll ask you again properly over dinner next Friday? I know a good Italian place.
The next Friday, he kept his promise and said those four words in a fancy quiet Italian restaurant. You said yes.
“I have a request,” you said, swirling your wine before taking a sip. “I want a wedding dress, not like a gown or anything. Just a simple white dress.”
“Sure, I already have a suit that I can wear.”
Your heart tugged in your chest. The fact that you had to buy your wedding dress by yourself, no matter how simple you envisioned it to be, without Cathy by your side was making your ears ring, drowning out all the knife and fork clatter around you.
Here's my hand There's the itch But I'm not supposed to scratch
—Love Me More, Mitski
It’s four a.m. and you want to say you’ve actually seen it coming. Every time something good happens, its catastrophe follows eventually. Just like how Cathy’s mission was going so well until it wasn’t.
It’s four a.m. and the meal you’ve prepared for Leon has gone cold on the dining table. You thought he’d be hungry when he came back from mission, so you went out and bought ingredients, followed a recipe word for word, even made soup additionally just in case he didn’t feel like eating solid food after what his body’s been through. He said he’d be back at one a.m. and he hasn’t contacted you since. You’ve called and texted him numerous times but it was radio silence from him.
He had promised you, before you got married, that he would always let you know when he got back from a mission and he always did. He never once forgot because you were very serious about this, wanted to know as soon as possible that he was back safe.
It’s four a.m. and you feel like you’re going crazy, soaring into a heaving fit as each minute passes by.
The sound of his keys makes you clutch at your chest and before you even realize, your legs are walking you to the front door. He’s being quiet and you wait for him few steps behind the door. His steps are feather light, head bowed down to take off his shoes, he exhales a long breath as he places his backpack down.
He flinches when he sees your silhouette in the dark. “God, you scared me. I thought you’d be sleeping.”
“You didn’t text me,” your voice breaks, your hands are clutching at the sides of your pajama shirt like it’s a lifeline.
“I forgot.”
Your tears threaten to fall down and you’re grateful that it’s dark and he can’t see. You bite down your lip strong enough to make it bleed. “I was worried.”
“I’m fine, you didn’t need to stay up.”
It’s not like you chose to, you physically couldn’t lie down or eat anything when your mind went all haywire, creating the worst possible scenarios it could think of.
“I, um, made dinner.” You point to the table. “But it’s gone cold, I can heat it up. Don’t know if it will taste any good, though. Did you have any chance to eat something? I mean, if you ate dinner, it’s been hours and you’re probably hungry—”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I also made soup, so it’s easier on the stomach. You’re tired, right? Just eat some soup and then go to sleep. I’ll heat that up and there’s also tea in the pantry, supposed to help you sleep. Oh, I filled up the bathtub, I’ll go drain it, the water’s gone cold and you probably want to have a hot shower—”
He cuts you off again by blurting out your name. “Hey, hey, slow down.” His calloused hands come up to hold your shoulders and you let out a small whimper of surprise, your chin dropping to your chest. “I don’t want anything, I’ll just sleep.”
You shrug and escape from his hold, so he doesn’t ask you why you’re trembling like a leaf. “But shower…” you manage to make out and point to the direction of his room.
“Yes, I’ll drain the tub and shower, you go to sleep, okay?”
“Okay,” you say softly. He’s home, you repeat deliriously. He’s here, very much alive. The thought calms your nerves instantly.
He doesn’t turn on any of the lights while navigating his home in the dark. You crane your neck to watch his silhouette move to his room. He opts to turn on the bathroom light first. You listen to the water droplets as you put away the food you made for him in containers. He says something you can’t quite hear when he gets out of the shower.
“Did you say something, Leon?” you raise your voice slightly.
“Yeah, did you clean my room?”
“It was messy. Thought it’d be nice to see it tidy when you came back.”
He doesn’t reply right away and your head turns to his direction as if he can see you through the door.
“Thank you. You didn’t need to.”
You actually cleaned the whole house when he was away, not that he had the chance to see it.
You were aware from the very beginning that this was what you got yourself into. You and Leon never promised each other love. But why are you feeling like this now? Stupid question, really. Because things have changed, you’ve grown to love him and you’re afraid. You’re afraid that one day you’ll have to face the world without him by your side because he has become your anchor, holding you in place where you now call home. It’s nice having his warm hands on you, it’s nice coming home to him.
However, in moments like now it feels like you’re playing house, actors going their separate ways after the lights go out. It awfully feels like you’re standing in the middle of a dark stage, curtains closed so nobody can see what goes down behind the scenes.
You’re in front of his door, first aid kit in one hand, knocking. “Leon?” You know he’s not sleeping. He can’t sleep well after he comes back from his missions, his insomnia making it impossible for him.
The door cracks open and you slide past him before he can say anything, perching cross-legged on the side of his bed, placing the kit on your lap before propping his pillow against the bedpost so he can sit comfortably in front of you. “Let me have a look.” You pat on the bed. “And turn on the lamp, please.”
You can finally see him when he does. The first thing you see is the big purple bruise on his side because he’s only wearing his sweatpants. His hair is wet from the shower, hanging to his eyes, eyebags dark and prominent, one of his forearms is freshly bandaged. Despite all, he’s standing tall in front of you.
“They already patched me up,” he says, showing his bandage.
You take his hand and draw him near, making him sit on the bed with one leg dangling from the side. Half of his face is illuminated like this and you can see the cut on his jaw in its full glory. Your fingers begin to work quickly, cleaning the wound all the while he winces by closing his eyes. “Seems like they didn’t take a good look at you. What happened to your ribs?” you ask to distract him.
“Got kicked. They’re not broken.”
You put the band-aid on his jaw and search his eyes as they open. He blinks slowly at you, understanding that you want to hear more. “Hurts when I breathe but it should be gone in a few days, it’s not that bad.”
You take his unwrapped hand in yours, the skin of his knuckles is very red, it probably hurts when he flexes it. You grab the ice pack you remembered to bring with you and place it on top on his knuckles.
“Not there,” he mumbles. “Put in on my shoulder, it’s really sore.”
You place the pack on the shoulder he points. He tries to turn his head that way but his face contorts in pain and he gives up, exhaling a long sigh.
“Did you have them wrap it up?”
“No, can’t be bothered to rewrap it later.”
“That’s why you have me to do it for you,” you hum, adjusting the ice pack. You’re closer to him like this, able to smell his soap and shampoo from his body. You can make out the shape of his chapped lips and yours ache to kiss his pain away, except you are overheated with grievance.
His eyes bore into you, taking you in. There’s an unassuming hand on your bent knee, squeezing lightly. “Did I scare you?” he asks.
“You promised me,” you gripe to him, fumbling with your fingers on your lap after you place the first aid kit next to you. “You promised me that you’d let me know when you were back. Of course I was scared.”
His forehead falls onto your shoulder, damp strands of hair pressed to the side of your neck as the ice pack tumbles down his back onto the bed. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says breathily.
He’s only called you by your name all this time, so this is new. And stomach lurching. Your cheek knocks the side of his head with your startled reaction.
“I have no excuse,” he murmurs. His palm on your knee slides up, leaving a burning sensation as it goes along your thigh, bypassing your hips and finding place on the curve of your waist.
“It’s okay,” you squeak when you feel his thumb caressing your ribs through your t-shirt.
You don’t remember ever sitting down with him, drawing lines about the nature of your relationship, lines that both of you never meant to cross, because you didn’t. You didn’t discuss anything about boundaries because at the time you were getting married, you didn’t know him much. Both of you assumed that it would naturally develop, silent agreements to come.
It was manageable before, now it confuses you to the point of ripping hair from your own head. There were times where you didn’t think twice about giving him a friendly hug, a pat on the back, a reassuring squeeze to his knee but after getting into bed with him, every action was testing the waters.
It wasn’t even a bed; it was the couch in the living room where you had countless dinners and conversations, the heart of the home, if you will. It felt shameful afterwards as if it happened in an open space, because it was quick and devoid of any intimacy, but it was in the confines of your own quiet home still.
You want to go back to the time when you were friends, and not what this was supposed to be. You want to go back to the time when you didn’t know how it felt to have him like that, when you didn’t know his touch would be so tantalizing, his lips unbearably addicting, his warmth conquering.
Initially, you thought you’d cross any bridge regarding him when you came across it, but there weren’t any bridges around to reach him to begin with. You quickly realized that he had burned them before you, for everyone. So, you painstakingly built each and every one of them with your bare hands, desperate to get to him. And him shaking them felt immensely unfair, all your hard work threatened to fall.
Your hand on his chest pushes him away ever so slightly before his hand drops from your waist. He hisses softly yet the action hurts you more than it hurts him. He yields to your touch, back leaning on his propped-up pillow, waiting for you to gather the scatter of your thoughts patiently.
“Stop confusing me, Leon.”
“What do you mean?”
“What am I to you exactly?”
“You’re my wife,” he says. Obviously.
“So why doesn’t it feel like it?”
“We never guaranteed that it would.”
“Yeah, I know that. All this time I thought maybe we were doing better, now I don’t know Leon, you’re confusing me. Either stop giving me hope or just say it outright.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That I’m just a fuck buddy to you.”
His jaw ticks, lips curl in disdain. “How shallow do you think I am?”
“I know we never established any boundaries between each other but it’s gotten to a point where I don’t know how I should act around you.”
His face stays stagnant. “You can’t be serious. Your boundaries were set from the beginning. You never had a place for me in your heart.”
Time seems to stop for you in that dire moment, Leon’s blue eyes serving you a new wrench of dismay. “When did I give off that impression?”
“Our first anniversary,” he clarifies hoarsely. “We ate pizza on the couch, remember?”
You do, you even remember the Disney movie he had rented as a cheeky nod to time you two first flirted. The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
“I always wonder why you said yes to my proposal in the first place,” he said after taking a bite from his pizza slice. It had been a year since getting married, Hunnigan was the one to point out to him. Apparently, she was proud of herself due to the fact that she was the one to introduce you two.
“I thought of Cathy and what she would’ve said to me,” you said, watching the animated Quasimodo sing his heart out to the town below him.
“What would she have said?”
“That it is ridiculous and maybe I should say yes.”
“So, you thought of what Cathy would’ve said to you getting married but not your family?”
You turned your head to him, ready to get vulnerable. “Cathy was family to me.”
“I didn’t know you two were that close.”
“Yeah, we met when we were roommates back in college. She urged me to change majors and follow her path.”
“To become an agent?”
“No, she was the one who always wanted to be a special agent. I didn’t know what to do at first but somehow ended up working alongside her.”
“What were you studying before?”
“I was studying to become a nurse. Kind of in my sister’s path, she’s a doctor.”
He scratched his nape, looking ashamed. “I believe I never asked that before, sorry about that.”
You elbowed his side after taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, you better be sorry for not knowing what your sister-in-law does for work.”
He rolled his eyes upon your teasing. “Were they supportive of you changing majors? Your family, I mean.”
“My family’s always been small. It’s just me and my mom and sister. Dad’s never been in the picture. He left when I was a few months old. My mom raised us herself. And yes, she would support anything I did. She loved Cathy because she would make me do things I’d never do myself.”
“Your mom sounds like a great person.”
“She was. She died four days before Cathy did.”
“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he said, much more ashamed than before. You didn’t blame him, the first year of your marriage flew by really fast, with him on duty most of it. Forget sitting down like this to talk, you rarely got any chance to see him.
“Yeah, their deaths being so close fucked me up really bad. We were on mission. My mom was living with my sister then because she was sick. My sister didn’t tell me her condition was even worse than before.”
“Why?”
“Mom knew we were working on something big and begged my sister not to tell me. She thought she’d see me after I was done with the mission. I had a whole fight with my sister about it. I felt betrayed.”
“I think I would, too, in that situation.”
“I was so fucking unprofessional after that. I couldn’t keep on helping Cathy properly. And she—”
“It isn’t your fault.” He shook his head, meeting your gaze in the space between you two on the couch.
“I’m tired of hearing that,” you huffed.
“None of that is on you. It’s the truth.”
“It’s not. I knew the situation was going bad. Cathy tried to make me believe it was not. Somebody else had to be transferred to take my place instead. I insisted but I had to be taken out. That’s when we lost connection to her.”
“How did you know it was going bad?”
“I could tell from her voice. I know her better than I know myself. I failed to get her help. I should have never listened to her.”
“But you couldn’t do that, could you? She clearly gave you wrong intel. You can’t send back-up until—”
“I could’ve made it seem like she requested back-up. That would’ve saved her, exterminated the mission, but saved her. I’d have faced the consequences of my actions sooner or later. If I did that and saved her, she’d be mad at me for years but who cares as long as she’s safe and sound?”
“I get it. I’d also have someone mad at me if it meant they’d be safe.”
“In the end, she died for nothing. The cult she was infiltrating dispersed after they killed her, all fled to different countries. It’s harder to track them down now. They’re everywhere.”
“You follow through with it? It would be impossible to track down each mission.”
“Why do you think I’m in the archives? I have access to mission reports. They don’t think it is bioweapon related, so sometimes they let me see them.”
Esmeralda was dancing along people’s whistles, captivating every man in the square.
“You said Cathy died for nothing but you actually don’t want that to be true.���
Fiddling with your fingers, you said, “Obviously.”
“You’re loyal,” he remarked. “I’m sure she would’ve loved to see her mission completed. Do you ever think of working as an analyst again?”
“Nope.”
From his expression you could tell he wanted an explanation, so you gave him one, “I don’t want to see people get hurt anymore. It’s a dangerous job, you know it. Why are you asking me?”
“No offense, but then why did you agree to marry me knowing I do the same job? If you’re scared of losing someone this much—it just doesn’t make sense to me.”
You sighed, having a hard time thinking where to even start. “You’re going to call me crazy.”
“I would never,” he said, half-jokingly.
“Okay, I really did think what Cathy would tell me to do. I always listened to her, the whole time we got to spend together. She told me what she wanted to do with her life, told me I looked depressed with what I was studying and maybe we should join an academy together. She was larger than life, lit up an entire room with her presence, never spoke ill of someone, liked to help people in any way she could. I’ve always been shy, so she went above and beyond to find me decent blind dates.”
“She sounds wonderful. She was also your matchmaker?”
“In a way, yes. Dragged me to parties with her so I could have some fun.” You gave Leon a smile, recalling Cathy and her antics in your mind, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Nothing sounds crazy so far,” he reassured you.
Finished with your pizza, you dusted off the crumbs into the box and lifted up your knees to sit cross-legged facing him. “I couldn’t keep someone interested in me for more than two dates.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he replied, his eyes traveling up and down.
“No, seriously. This one time, a guy left mid-date, told me he had a phone call, paid for the coffees and just left. I waited there for half an hour. It dawned on me when I couldn’t see his car outside. Didn’t call me after.”
Leon shrugged one shoulder. “His loss.”
You smacked his bicep playfully as a way of thanking him for his compliment. “I only went on these dates because Cathy thought it would be good for me. I had a few fights with my sister about Cathy and her influence on me. She thought I was like her puppet but I genuinely don’t think like that. I told you I knew Cathy like the back of my hand. It was the same for her. Never pushed me to do something I’d be uncomfortable with. Well, I’d feel awkward at times but it would be momentary, I’d learn so much in the long run.”
“That’s a very healthy way of looking at things. I’m still waiting for the part where you think I’d call you crazy.”
“I trusted her judgment because I knew she only wanted the best for me. She’d definitely try to set me up with you if we weren’t so busy all the time,” you said, lips curling into a roguish smile.
His eyebrows shot up, being brazen about it. “Oh, you’re saying I’d have her approval?”
Especially when you keep raking your hands through your hair like that, you wished to say. “Yes, you would.”
“Thank you, that means so much.”
“You didn’t even know her.”
“Well, she means so much to you, I feel honored that you think that way.”
A haze of grief washing over your heart, lungs expanding, you started, “I also… never mind.”
A comforting hand fell on you shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Now you have to say it, don’t leave me hangin'.”
“Here’s the crazy part,” you swallowed dryly. “Whenever I thought of my future, it was always with Cathy. I didn’t even think of getting married. I thought we’d retire together when the time came, she and Allison—her girlfriend—would live next to me. And if they ever had the chance, they’d marry and maybe have kids. I’d look after them like they were my own, be the best aunt. Isn’t it crazy, dreaming of looking after someone else’s kids and not yours? Sometimes I’d lay my head down and imagine myself in a little community, living next door to Cathy and her family, growing my own vegetable garden—though I don’t know the first thing about gardening but I’d learn! I would also grow pretty flowers and give them out to anyone who decided to come over. Go to the bakery in the morning, greet everyone on the way and grab my breakfast fresh out the oven. I’d get so fat! Eating baked goods every day, sounds like heaven to me.”
“Indeed.” With a fond smile on his face, he took of his hand from your shoulder and fully turned to you, bending one leg up on the cushions. “I don’t think I met an Allison at the funeral, was she there?”
“She was,” you said, remembering the painful conversation you had with her. “She arrived really early and left before anyone from work came.”
“What happened?” he asked, noticing you ripping skin off your fingers just like you had been doing during that day.
“I tried to talk to her. She told me I was a liar and walked out—” Leon interrupted your chain of thoughts by taking your hand, preventing you from damaging your fingers further. “I couldn’t keep my promise to her. It’s awful. I told her before the mission that it was going to be okay, we’d done this with Cathy many times and I’d make sure to keep her in one piece.”
Your other hand had a death grip on your knee, nails digging and leaving indents to keep yourself grounded. “They tortured Cathy while she was captive. She died because she refused to give them any information.”
Leon seemed like he didn’t want you to continue, placed your hand in his as though he was reading your palm and started to fidget with your gold wedding band on your ring finger. “Tell me more about that dream of yours. I bet you wouldn’t even install normal ceiling lights in your house. It’d just be little lamps everywhere.”
Giggling, you said, “Yeah! I’d be that auntie that collects little trinkets and displays them all around her house. I’d learn how to knit and make so many ugly sweaters for God knows anyone.”
“So, no partner living with you? Just you with your trinkets?”
“There’s so many types of love and I just didn’t see myself in a romantic one. It just happened that I never pictured myself alone. That’s it.”
His hands slipped away after your raw confession, broad back straightening, appearing tensed up. Yet again, you couldn’t make out what his expression meant.
Esmeralda was now singing a hymn, Quasimodo staring at her in admiration from the shadows.
“I talked so much today, now’s your turn. I feel embarrassed that you know my abysmal attempts at finding love. How about you, Leon? You got any embarrassing stories that you can tell?”
His answer was quick and mischievous, “Yeah, this one time this lady just got up and left me at the bar. In the middle of an argument.”
You pursed your lips and bumped on his knee on the cushions, restraining a laugh you know he’d get satisfaction out of. “Don’t piss me off, that wasn’t even a date.”
“I had a girlfriend when I was twenty-one, she broke up with me before I started working as a cop.”
“That’s so long ago and not that embarrassing if I’m being honest,” you sniffed at him.
“I already told you about how I thought I’d marry her. I really believed my first ever relationship would live to see its future.”
Offering him a new perspective, you explained, “Well, technically it did, it just wasn’t a bright one.”
“Pshh,” he scoffed, turning to the TV, stretching before bending his arms behind his head. “Wait—you’re telling me I’m the only long-term guy you had?”
His late light-bulb moment pulled a chuckle out of you. “Turning it back to me again, okay. No, I did date a guy for nearly one year. And before you ask, he said I worked too much and wasn’t fun.”
Leon’s face scrunching as if he just ate something sour, he blurted out, “Where do you find these types of guys? Did Cathy set you up with this asshole?”
“No, actually, I found him myself.”
“Is he the one who made you think you’re not fun to be around?”
You were left stumped, unable to think of any answer.
“What? If he is, I disagree with him.”
“You only say that because I go along with your corny jokes.”
“Yeah, that’s the only reason,” he chimed sarcastically.
Quasimodo was saving Esmeralda from the burning stake, the sign that the movie was about to end.
“Your dream,” he cleared his throat. “I could just picture it like a happy ending to a Disney movie. You know, they all have happy endings. Besides, I don’t think you’re insane for wanting a happy, peaceful life.”
“What’s insane about it is that I even imagined myself dying before Cathy. Getting buried before I got to bury her. I’ve never thought I’d live the day she wouldn’t, yet here I am… I wrote an entire script for the rest of my life in my mind, that’s why I spiraled down and down and down when it was not possible to play it out anymore. So, I stopped. It wasn’t healthy for me to continue obsessing over my ruined happy ending. I decided to live in the present. Write as I live on. Be more like Cathy, hopefully.”
There was little beer left in his can but he raised it anyway. “In the loving memory of Cathy Donovan, then.”
“I don’t have any drink left,” you gasped, lifting your can. “Cathy, I’m so sorry, you deserve the fruitiest of Martinis.” If Cathy was there, she would’ve laughed like a hyena, found it hysterical that you managed to call her fruity given the context.
After the honorary toast, Leon leaned back and intertwined his hands on his stomach, eyes fixed on the TV screen where Phoebus and Esmeralda were passionately kissing.
“The novel’s ending was not family friendly, I guess,” you mocked.
“I haven’t read it.”
“If you’re planning on reading it, my lips are sealed.”
“Don’t know if I have the time. I don’t mind, tell me.”
“It’s painfully sad. Esmeralda gets hanged, Quasimodo pushes Frollo from the cathedral tower in grief and rage. That’s the moment he realizes he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. He also refuses to let go of Esmeralda, starves himself holding on to her dead body in her grave. Years later, an excavation group finds their intertwined skeletons and when they try to separate them, Quasimodo’s bones crumble to dust.”
“Now that’s vile.”
Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart Baby, bang it up inside I'm not wearing my usual lipstick I thought maybe we would kiss tonight
Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am I know who you pretend I am
—Washing Machine Heart, Mitski
“How would I know I’d end up here?” you ask him, voice shaking. “We didn’t promise each other anything, so I didn’t have any hope.”
You want nothing more than to ask him about the teddy bear keychain he has in desk drawer, why he holds onto it, ask whether you should be relieved that it no longer has a key attached to it.
There is that gut feeling, clawing at your churning stomach, that tells you he has someone. Someone else who knows him better than you, who is a better match to him, who makes him happier.
Someone he loves.
“But we had sex, it made me question everything and I’ve come to the conclusion that we were both lonely and weren’t thinking straight. You acted like it didn’t change anything, it almost made me go crazy. Please say something so I can finally understand, Leon,” you cry out.
“I don’t regret it,” he declares. “I don’t regret what we did. And I know how we started this marriage, I assumed it would always be the same after you told me your feelings.”
“I admit I’m hard to be with.” Your head hangs to the side, brows furrowed. “It’s hard for me to trust someone as much as I trusted Cathy. I’m sorry it took two years for us to be candid with each other. I used to be laidback about who I slept around with before. Now, I don’t know, I think twice about how I should touch you, talk to you. I used to think romantic love was not for me, so I wasn’t worried when you proposed because you didn’t expect it. I thought it wasn’t for people like us.”
“But you are capable of love,” he emphasized. “I know you are. You’re so good to me all the time. You stay up all night worrying when I’m not home, cook food for me despite your hatred for it, remember the smallest things and help me out, talk to me when I can’t sleep. I can’t even repay you for any of it and you still continue to be good to me. See, you’re speaking in a way that’s making me think there’s a chance that you love me and I still can’t say it back.”
Your silent tears unsettle him, this is the first time you let him see you cry. He has heard it before, the soft sobs and small chokes at night when you didn’t know he was awake.
You sniffle, “I know you’re capable of it, too, Leon. If the reason you can’t say it back to me is what I think it is, you definitely are.”
You quickly wipe your tears with the back of your hand when he asks, “What do you mean?”
“There is someone, right? You love them.”
His silence speaks volumes and it becomes your acceptance.
“Don’t let this thing between us hamper it, okay? I’m fine with it. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to keep up the faithful husband act.”
“Jesus,” he howls. “Just how terrible do you think I am? This thing between us is our fucking marriage. Not some situationship. Although I can’t make you think otherwise because you refuse to. I’m only gonna say this once, okay? I respect you enough to not sleep around behind your back.”
“Thank you, Leon, but I’m saying it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You take both of his hands, wanting to remember the feel of him. “You love someone else and it’s okay. You’re better off with them. Hopefully they’re better at love than I am.”
You take off your ring and place it in your palm, caressing it. “I know I probably shouldn’t be asking for this but I got so used to the weight of it on my finger. Can I have it as a keepsake?”
He grips your wrist tightly, grimacing. “What are you doing?”
“This is me letting you go.”
“No.” He shakes his head, voice thick. The way he places the ring on your finger again is a wretched overcompensation for not doing it before. You two didn’t have rings at the wedding and you were the one to place it on your own finger after purchasing them. “You’re running away,” he speaks in a hoarse croak. “Where will you go this time, hm?”
“I’ll resign and move close to my sister.”
His palms are cupping your jaw, fingertips in your hair. Him closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours is a way of saying I can love you if you give me time, I know I can.
“Stay,” he whispers, narrowing your whole world down to his warmth and you shudder from it. “Just tell me what you need.”
I need you to love me more, love enough to fill me up till there’s no crack left for me to write happy ever afters that will never come true. I need you to fill me full up, love enough to drown it out. Drown me out.
“Kiss me.”
“That I can do, honey.”
You know perfectly well that you’re selfish for wanting him like this. However, you yearn for the still of his hands on you, the irresistible feel of his skin on yours.
A kiss is placed on your temple, another one on your damp cheekbone, another on your jaw. Your eyes are closed the whole time he moves slow with his kisses. He grazes his nose beneath your ear, bringing you close to the brink of tears again. His hot breath is licking the other side of your face after, pecking the corner of your mouth.
“Scoot,” he says before gripping your waist and tipping you towards his torso. “My back is killing me like this.”
You’re afraid of hurting him with your weight but he insists, pulling you and placing you on his lap, getting you to straddle him, your thighs encasing his on either side. Your face a few inches above his, he tips his head back and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You can see a gash on his shoulder that disappears down his back which you didn’t notice before and you become aware once again that this isn’t the right moment to ask him for this.
“Leon—”
He can tell you’re about to get off him and he shuts you up by pulling you in a crushing kiss, pressing your chest to his with arms around your back so you won’t get away. “Stay here, don’t run away from me,” he says between labored breaths. His fingertips dance on your sides, making the hair on the back of your neck stand. He can probably feel your heart thumping crazy against his chest.
You caress the indent on his chin with your pointer finger, leaning down to kiss it. Leon lets out a delicious sigh, hands feeling up the sides of your thighs.
“Why did you kiss me at the wedding? There was no one to see,” you finally ask.
He lifts an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the side trying to remember it. “The officiant was there. And the photographer.”
You nod and his lips are on yours again, tender this time. He opts to place quick kisses over and over again when he’s done being gentle. A chuckle escapes you when his nose bumps yours.
Fingers drifting under your shirt, he scratches your back up and down with his blunt nails. Any inch of skin he comes across, he kisses. Earlobe, jaw, neck, shoulder peeking through shirt. One hand splaying his fingers on your back, middle finger in line with your spine, right between your shoulder blades, the other one comes up front, lifting the front hem of your shirt. “Take this off.”
He doesn’t move the hand on your back when you’re taking it off, eyes dropping down to meet the new exposed skin. But you feel too naked, even though he’s wearing the same amount of clothes as you. You hug him around his neck, careful not to hurt him, bare chests pressed together.
He clasps the tops of your arms, biting the inside of one bicep.
“Ouch.” You retreat. “Why did you do that?”
“Let me see you.” He tips you backwards after his hand comes up to your nape, your butt slides on his lap, making you sit right on his crotch. He lets out a content hum, not embarrassed of his half hard erection. You cling to his biceps although his hand on the back of your neck is securing you in place.
A kiss is planted to the base of your throat and then to each collarbone. The hand on the front cups the underside of your breast, goosebumps rising on your skin. A wet kiss on the valley of your breasts, his breath cooling it. A low moan from you when he takes a stiff nipple in his hot mouth, finally giving it some attention. He twirls his tongue around it, teasing, before licking it right.
Your hips move involuntarily, rubbing against him through clothes all the while he sucks, kisses, grazes teeth. A jolt of electricity travels down to your core when he switches sides, underwear clinging to your sticky folds. You keen into him, pushing your chest out when he begins to suck a bruise under your breast. Your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging on his damp strands.
You discern his knitted brows and inclined back before tapping his shoulder. “Leon, stop.”
He halts the moment he hears you. The sight of a string of spit connecting his lips to your chest is obscene. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re hurting. You should lay down,” you say while standing up.
His eyes never leaving you, he gets off the bed as well. He seizes you under your arms, picking you up with ease. “See, honey? I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” He doesn’t let you protest and nips at your bottom lip before sloppily kissing you, tongue claiming every crevice of your mouth.
“No, put me down!” you wail, kicking your feet in the air.
“Okay, okay,” he grins, setting you down on the floor. Your heated cheeks amusing him, he takes your hand and places it on the waistband of his sweatpants. “This is the only thing you need to worry about.”
You decide to be daring and slide your hand down, palming him through layers of clothing. “Fuck,” he huffs, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours, big hands pawing at your backside, fondling your ass. Your hand slips past his briefs, touching him without any barriers.
“Oh, just like that,” he encourages you when you pick up a pace. His abs tightening, it doesn’t take long for him to fully get hard. “Ah, wait—”
“Hm?” You look up at him, just holding him in your palm.
“Need to get a condom, be right back.” He squeezes your ass one last time. “You better take everything off,” he teases before stepping away to get to the bathroom.
Second thoughts come rushing to your mind the time he’s undressing and grabbing a condom in the bathroom. Maybe, you shouldn’t do this. It’s only going to make it harder for the both of you. You admitted loving him and he wasn’t able to say it back. But he told you to stay, he needs you, wants what you’re able to give him. And you desperately need to give him all you have, mind and body, even if it means for a short time.
Because you know you will never be able to love like this again.
Your thoughts are interrupted when a packet of condom is thrown on the bed in front of you, hands gathering your hair on one shoulder to return messy kisses to your neck from the back.
Your back meets his pecs, his erection snug between your bare ass cheeks, you sigh softly when his fingers find their way to your clit, making your spine tingle. You hold on to his forearm, clawing at his veins as he gathers your wetness from your entrance, back to circling your bundle of nerves with now soaked fingers. His bandaged hand urges you to spread your legs more before finding place on your throat. He ruts his hips against your ass, breathing loudly while you whine out incoherent sounds.
He groans your name, drawing your attention up to his scrunched face. “You’re so good to me.”
“Leon,” you whimper as he drags two fingers all the way along your slit, pumping them inside. The way you stretch around his fingers distracts him from the rhythm of his hips, making him still. But you crave the friction, arch back your own hips to get him to move again. Your hand winds around and finds his aching hard dick, thumb stroking the precum all over his angry red tip. Your head rolls back over his shoulder and you want nothing more than to properly see.
“Leon, I’m close,” you moan and push his hand away. “I want to see you.”
“Anything you want, honey,” he pants in your ear, tip of his tongue tracing the shell of it.
You crawl to the middle of the bed, endowing him the sight of your glistening slit before laying down on your back, waiting for him to get on top of you. He parts your legs, taking a good look before smearing his tip on your folds, a mix of your wetness and his precum making it extra slippery.
“Please,” you manage to make out, one arm across your chest, another resting on his shoulder.
He rips your arm from your chest and pulls both your wrists above your head. “I said let me see you.”
He doesn’t let you fuss, fucking up his cock against your clit, allowing himself the bare feel of you for a little while.
He kisses your pout away before retreating to roll the condom on. You hiss as his tip breaches your entrance, legs trying to close on instinct, but he’s laying between them. He gets you used to the feel of him inside before you nod for him to move, slowly at first. Once your back arches and your hips shift, he gets the message to piston his hips faster.
He searches for the right pace just by examining you, what your face does when he tries something new, how your back arches, by the sounds you make. Not too fast, not too slow, he eventually finds an angle you particularly like.
“Too good for me,” he chants whilst thrusting, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head. You notice the absence of his ring but you don’t worry about it because you know he leaves it on his desk when he’s away for a mission, not wanting to lose it.
Your legs hug him around his waist, heels pressing him into you deeper. “Yes, yes, yes…” You keep singing his name when you feel it building up inside.
“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he grunts, listening to the slaps of skin and your frantic cries of pleasure.
“Good ‘cause I’m so close.”
He takes that as a challenge, making sure you reach your high before him. He watches as you do, walls clenching down on his length, lips chasing his.
He’s cooing in your ear between your gasps, coaxing your bliss out of you. “I know, honey, I gotcha. You can let go.”
Your mouth opening in a silent moan as your orgasm ripples through you, hands trembling in his hold, legs trying to shut, your entire body quivering as you ride it out.
Irregular thrusts of his hips bouncing your breasts in front of him, he nestles his face between them, breathing in your scent. He noses the blossoming mark he left under there and moves slow, dragging it out as much as possible.
He sinks boneless on you, his weight feeling comforting rather than crushing. You embrace him as he softens out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He peels the condom off and lays on you for a while, head between your ribs, trying to catch his breath. You wipe away sweat from his temple, frowning.
“You’ll have to hop in the shower again.”
“Give me a few minutes,” he says, voice muffled and nasal. “And you’re coming with me, too.”
“Leon!” you shriek, playfully slapping his twitching bicep. “You shouldn’t tire yourself more.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. I was gonna ask you to wash my back.”
After a few minutes, you drag him in the shower, helping him soap his back. He stands under the hot rain when you’re cleaning yourself with his body wash, eyes and hands wandering, groping here and there. You smack his naughty hands each time, can’t help but giggle. However, he’s tired and sleepy, so he’s only playing.
You offer to change his sheets but he insists on doing it in the morning and tugs your arm to your room, preferring to sleep in your clean sheets. He nearly falls asleep as you blow-dry your hair, waiting for you in the bed.
As soon as you’re snuggled up to him, he tucks you to his chest, chin on your forehead. Soft sighs tickle the crown of your hair.
“Can I ask you a question?” he murmurs, barely audible.
Your pointer finger stops drawing circles on his pectoral muscle. “Mhm?”
“After your mom and Cathy passed away, how did you survive? There has to be a reason.”
“I actually planned to end it all after both funerals. I told myself to just get past that week. It’ll all be over in a week. But there’s my sister. She came with me to help with Cathy’s funeral. Forced me to eat anything she could cook while I lived on autopilot. She was washing my hair in the sink when I realized I can’t leave her behind. It’s just not fair. She has a wonderful husband but a husband doesn’t mean forever— I mean, look at what my mother got. A deadbeat husband who left her with two little kids. My sister doesn’t have any kids. Worst case scenario, her husband leaves her and—”
He retracts abruptly to search your face, hand on your cheek to steer you to him. “So, you wrote a script again. With a sad ending.”
“My sister is my only family left. I don’t want her to live unhappily.”
“Hey, I’m your family, too. Why are you talking like I’m not here?” He presses a long, soothing kiss to your lips. His fingers tip your chin up. “Look at me. What do you have in that mind of yours? What kind of script do you have for us?”
You lie. “I don’t have one.”
He smiles. “Good. Because we’ll write one as we go on.”
(a/n: a very short part 2 will be posted here in a few days, keep an eye out for that. ty for reading!) >> read PART II.
#leon s. kennedy#leon s. kennedy x reader#resident evil#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy x reader#i forgot to post this on tumblr#leon kennedy smut
551 notes
·
View notes
Text
Please ? | Spencer Reid
summary: reader wants spencer to take her virginity.
CW: inexperienced!reader , shy-ish reader , reader gets came on , 18+ (if i’m missing anything lmk)
word count: 860 words
you and spencer have been dating for 4 months now. the last four months have been filled with date nights every sunday (when he wasn’t away) and endless flirting and teasing no matter what was happening around you guys.
but you were craving more.
you and spencer have had heated makeouts and even a little dry humping every now and then but nothing ever came out of it.
so now here you were sitting on spencer’s bed with a nervous look on your face.
“spence..can we talk?” you start regretting your words when you see him sit up with a look of concern and fear on his face.
“did i do something wrong honey?” it’s almost as if you can hear the gears shifting in his mind and you quickly shake your head to make them shut up.
“no i just…why won’t you have sex with me?” you notice the deep breath he takes and relief in his eyes.
“are you ready for sex?” it was no secret to spencer that you were inexperienced and you probably would run away if he even tried to unbutton your pants.
“i think? i don’t know i’m just really horny and i can’t keep cumming from just your thighs.” a smile appears on his face and he grabs your waist sitting you on his lap and whispering in your ear.
“well how about we fix that then baby?” you hold back a whimper and pull him in for a kiss, slowly moving back and fourth on his lap.
“can i take these off?” he puts a finger on the waistband of your shorts and you nod your head. he unbuttons your pants and slides them off you with a little of your help.
he can’t tear his eyes away from your white lacy panties with small bows on the sides.
“you’re so beautiful baby” he rubs your cunt through your panties and you swear you could cum from just that alone.
“fuck..spence i need more.” you kiss him again this time tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. you move down to his pants and unbutton them, pausing when you feel his print.
spencer slides down his pants more and takes out his cock.
your jaw dropped.
he had to be atleast 8 and a half inches and you were even debating that.
“can that fit in me?” you say still shocked and stunned by his size.
“we can make it fit honey.” he tugs at your shirt and you shake your head. your not ready to be fully naked yet and he understands.
“lay down for me baby.” you move to the other side of his bed and rest your head on the nearest pillow. he kisses your thighs and makes his way up to your cunt, kissing all around it only making you grow wetter and wetter.
“please spence i can’t wait anymore.” he laughs at your eagerness and pulls down your panties. he stares at you in awe which makes you close your legs and push him slightly.
“stop staring at me like that..” he kisses your cheek and pulls your panties off.
“you’re so pretty sweetheart. every part of you.” he rubs your heat and you moan with every movement. he inserts his pointer finger and curls it which causes you to moan and arch your back.
“fuck..put another one in please.” he inserts his middle finger and waits for you to calm down before he starts moving them both at a slow pace. you’re a moaning mess and you’ve never wanted to come so bad.
“fuck if you keep doing that i’m gonna cum.” he laughs and takes out his fingers which causes you to pout.
“i don’t want you to come yet baby” he reaches over for a condom and puts it on.
“tell me if you wanna stop okay baby?” you nod and moan when you feel him rub his tip over your heat.
“fuck please just put it in.” he slowly inserts every inch into you moaning between each inch just from how warm your heat is. all that fills the room is your heavy breathing.
once he bottoms out he starts to move slowly. you moan with every thrust and your hands find their way to his long curly hair slightly tugging at it.
“go faster please, i can handle it.” his movements speed up and you can feel your orgasm approaching. the sounds of his quiet whimpers and your skin slapping against eachother becomes louder with every thrust.
“i’m so close y/n” his legs start to shake under you and his movements get faster causing you to let out a loud moan and your back to arch off the bed as your orgasm hits you.
not long after you feel spencer’s cock twitch inside you and his movements start to slow.
you both sit there for about 10 minutes trying to catch your breath.
“that was really good” you say, slurring your words. he smiles and pulls out of you slowly, handing you a bottle of water from the nightstand.
“i love you so much y/n.” he pampers your face in kisses and you both giggle until you both fall asleep, happy and inlove.
i’m not good at writing smut so tell me how it is 🌚 don’t forget to check out my masterlist !
#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#dom spencer reid#sub reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds smut
788 notes
·
View notes
Text
Perfect (Benny Cross x Shy! Reader pt 7)
The chapter we've all been waiting forrrr! 🤗 I won't lie to you, I'm slightly terrified to post this chapter, but you all are so kind. I hope this is everything you wanted it to be! 🫶
Benny X Bunny Masterlist
Word Count- 3.8k (woah, got a little carried away)
Summary- You've lived your whole life according to what everyone else wanted you to be. Tonight would be the first night of your new life -- one where you decided who you were.
******
You took a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments in an attempt to calm your quickened pulse. You had spent the whole rest of the day yesterday thinking about nothing but your future. What was set in stone and what was up to you. You knew what you didn’t want, that much was clear to you now. But could it be possible to have what you wanted when you weren’t even sure if that was what you were?
By the time you had dressed and made your way downstairs for breakfast, you felt as though you were being torn in two. One side was what your head told you to do, the more sensical side. And the other was what your heart wanted to do, the more exciting side. You entered the kitchen where your mother stood at the stove, her hair still in rollers and an apron tied around her waist as she prepared breakfast.
“Morning, Mama,” you greeted quietly as you approached her to help. Cooking breakfast was your usual routine with your mother, a time spent with secretive giggles and never-ending stories. It was a time where the two of you would be uninterrupted, consumed by only each other in your own world. A place where you would complain to her about your boy troubles at school or how the popular girls were mean to you that day. And as you grew older, and things like high school drama no longer seemed to matter, it became a place where you could talk to her about her life. Where she would tell you how to be mindful of the world around you as she taught you to make poached eggs. A place where she had mentioned numerous times how happy she was because of her family, because of you. A safe place – home.
“Morning, honey,” she replied as she shot you her usual cheerful smile. “Coffee’s on the table.”
You thanked her as you poured yourself a cup. You put your apron on and began to help with the homemade pancake batter. You were so lost in the endless sea of thoughts that when your mother mentioned a familiar name, you nearly spilled the bowl of batter.
“What?” you asked as you looked over at her.
“I said Pete came by, asking for you,” she repeated as she did a double take at your crestfallen expression.
“He did?” you inquired in a small voice. “Did he . . . say anything?”
“He asked if he could speak with you. He seemed real insistent,” she laughed. “I had to tell him you were in the shower to finally get him to leave.”
At your silence, she continued hesitantly, “How did your date go?”
You sighed, “It was . . . okay.”
“He seems like a real nice guy.”
You nodded weakly, feeling oddly reluctant to tell her what had happened at the golf course, the anger in his eyes, the sudden volume in his voice as he slammed his hands against the car.
She lowered the spatula she was using to stir the scrambled eggs, and she turned to face you fully. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?”
You nodded again but when you glanced up at her, you could see the disbelief in her eyes. You could fool a lot of people, but your mother was never one of them.
“What’s going on?” she prodded in that controlled mix of gentle firmness that only mothers can conjure. You were silent for several long beats, unsure of how to vocalize your feelings.
“I don’t think I want to go out with Pete anymore, Mama,” You admitted softly and being able to speak those words aloud for the first time felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off your shoulders so you go on, “I don’t like the way he treats me compared to others. I can’t see myself being married to him.”
She fell quiet for a few agonizing moments, and you worry that you might have said too much. You avoided her gaze, looking down at the raw batter in front of you as you tried to figure out how you can fix what you’ve just said.
But then, “Is there someone else you met?”
You looked back at her face, your heart sinking at the sight of her serious, unreadable expression and your mouth suddenly felt too dry to speak. You only nodded.
She looked down at her pan of eggs for a moment. “Was it that blonde boy? The one with the motorcycle?”
Your mouth fell open in shock. “How–?”
“I saw him drop you off last night,” she explained. “I was reading in my bedroom when I heard the engine pull up. And when I looked out the window, I saw the two of you standing there.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the realization that Benny was not a secret of yours anymore. He was living in your reality now, a figure to receive the scutanty of your parents, of your neighbors, of your family. The thought left a pit to form in your gut.
“Your father will never approve of that, (Y/N),” she said, firmly shooting down your outlandish hopes. “You know that.”
“I know. I just . . . ” you trail off with a sigh as you sink into one of the chairs at the small breakfast table in the kitchen. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before, Mama. He’s fun and exciting. He just seems to understand me so perfectly. And the way he talks to me, the way he makes me feel about myself . . .”
Your mother abandoned her position at the stove to sit in the chair beside you. “That isn’t a practical choice, honey. It’s not going to guarantee you any stability for your future. I want you to have a good life, to live in a good house with a husband that has a good job. He isn’t that and who knows if he will ever be able to provide you with those things.”
You swallowed the painful lump forming in the back of your throat as you looked down at your lap, knowing that she’s right.
Her hand slid across the table to grab yours tightly. “But I also saw the look on his face as he watched you walk up to the house. That look of pure devotion and love.” There were tears shining in her eyes as she struggled to speak. “And I realized I have never seen your father look at me the way that boy looked at you.”
Your heart shattered at her admission, and you squeezed her hand tightly, stunned into silence.
“All I want in life is for you to be happy. That’s all I want. Every time I see a shooting star or blow out the candles on my birthday cake, I make a wish for you to live a happy life.” She swallowed thickly as her eyes fluttered over your features. “I understand that your happiness might not look the same as mine, and that’s okay. Your father won’t approve of this, and you know how he gets. But I will always support you – always.”
“Oh, Mama,” your voice cracked as you stood quickly to wrap your mother in a tight hug.
As you stood in the embrace of your mother’s arms, you realized it had been a long time since you had been consoled like this by her. And in this moment, you felt like a little girl again, still in need of your mother’s infinitely understanding advice and kind hugs. Muffled by her sweater, you whispered, “You make me happy, Mama.”
“You make me happy too, my girl,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back eventually, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you to choose the thing that will bring you happiness.”
You nodded and she reached out to wipe the tears that had fallen down your cheeks as she said, “Now, help me finish breakfast before those eggs start to burn.”
“Yes, Mama,” you laughed, sniffing as you watched her move back to the stove, noticing the undeniable actions of her swiping at her own tears as she did.
And now you stand, at the threshold of someplace you’d never expected to be, you’re nervous, but sure of yourself. Thunder rolled through the sky as a storm brewed in the distance, and you almost laughed at the realization that you had successfully outran the storm, a strangely comforting irony. Releasing your breath, you push open the door before you could give it another thought.
The inside of the Vandals clubhouse is bustling with people, more than you had ever seen in one small place. Cigarette smoke filtered through the air, covering the environment in a haze. Loud voices, glass clinking, cue balls clacking against the pool tables all mix together with the music playing from the jukebox in the back. Overwhelmed, you stand in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning through the sea of bodies covered in the infamous Vandals colors. After a moment of hesitation and a brief thought of turning around and going back out the door you came in, you pushed on, sliding into the room like a boat into a river. Weaving your way through the packed bar, you passed a few tables where someone bumped into you as they stood from their seat. You apologized and tried to move by, but the unfamiliar man reached out and grabbed your wrist.
“Where are you off to, pretty little thing?” he asked, his voice slurring as he tried to grin at you but he must have been seeing double because his eyesight was staring at the spot over your right shoulder. Before you could respond, someone else from the table spoke up, his voice barely heard over the noise of the bar.
“Hey, I know you,” he said, his dark slicked back hair and clean shaven face familiar, but you couldn’t place his name. “You’re Benny’s girl.”
You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words and you shrunk into yourself a bit, losing a bit of your already wavering confidence.
“It’s Wahoo,” he clarified as he too stood from his seat, moving to grab his drunk friend and pull him away from you. “Don’t let him bother you, he didn’t know who you were, was all.”
You nodded, grateful for his help. “Is Benny here?”
“Yeah, ’was over by the pool table in the back last I saw,” Wahoo responded as he pointed in the general direction.
You tried to steady your pounding heart as you made your way to the back of the bar. Brushing into a temporarily clear path, that’s when your eyes found his tall, lean figure, that dirty blonde hair and wicked grin. Your steps faltered a bit. He hadn’t seen you yet, you could still turn around and go back to your ordinary life. But that wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You were scared, but you were here anyway. You approached the table where you saw other faces you recognized (Johnny, Brucie, Gail, Zipco and a few others whose names you hadn’t committed to memory yet) but none of them were your primary focus.
Gail was the first to notice you nearing, and she elbowed her husband to get his attention as she said something you couldn’t quite detect in the loudness of the bar. But her commotion with Brucie garnered Johnny’s interest as he two turned to look at you, a smile breaking out across his face. Benny turned from his sidestance, his eyes scanning over the crowd in an attempt to see what was so important to distract the players while the game continued. His eyes roved over your face for a fleeting second, continuing on before jumping back to you in a flustered doubletake.
Then suddenly, you were on the other end of the pool table, directly across from Benny who looked at you as though you were an apparition. You leaned your hands to rest against the pool table, trying to look more confident than you were as you felt the eyes of every person near the pool table on you.
“Bunny?” Benny asked, almost speechless as he handed his pool stick off to Zipco. He rounded the table to be closer to you as he continued. “What–what are you doin’ here?”
“I came to speak with you,” you respond, eyes glancing at the others around the table before landing on him again. “To ask you something.”
He got the hint loud and clear. “C’mon,” he said as he grabbed your hand in his own and pulled you through the room to the backdoor where he pushed it open and motioned for you to go first.
It had already begun to rain lightly, tiny droplets hitting the concrete with a gentle pitter patter. The coolness of the outside air surrounded you in a pleasant way compared to the atmosphere inside. There were a few bikers out back smoking and talking, but Benny didn’t seem to mind their presence as he led you down the way, keeping under the dry safety of the overhang.
“Is it always that busy?” you ask when you both stopped. With your back against the brick wall and Benny standing just in front of you, the overhang didn’t offer much room from the rain. But that didn’t seem to bother him either as his eyes were locked onto you despite the roof runoff hitting his jacket.
“No.” He shook his head. “There was a convention in town today and most of those guys in there are from Columbus. I’m sure that’s pretty overwhelming for you.”
Your heart fluttered at his gentle squeeze of your hand and you were acutely aware that he hadn’t let you go since pulling you along out here. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“Did you walk here?” he asked, and thunder rumbled somewhere behind him.
“No, I rode my bicycle,” you replied. “Bike, I should say, makes me sound cool like you guys.”
“You’re way cooler than me, Bunny,” he said, his voice low as he wore a lopsided smile.
You couldn’t help but mirror his expression as you looked up at him, realizing just how close the two of you were. The scent of his cologne tickled your nose in a way that sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. It was almost unfair, you realized, that he was so effortlessly attractive – he looked good, he sounded good, he smelled good – and you don’t think he even knew the effect he had on you. And he had the audacity to look at you like you were the gem.
“What?” he asked after your beat of silence, his eyes flickering to your lips.
“Nothing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you blurted out the question that had been burning inside you the entire ride here. “Do you want to go to California with me?”
“Right now?”
“No.” You tried to cover your giggle. “I mean, some day. I do want to go. Remember when we talked about it?”
“I remember.”
Benny’s unwavering gaze caused your heart rate to speed up but you trudged on, “I’ve always thought it wasn’t a practical dream, that somehow it couldn’t be me who walked down the beach because I'd been too busy with school and then school became work and work would become marriage and keeping house.” Your carefully rehearsed speech began to fragment as you spilled your jumbled thoughts. “But I realized that is so silly because it’s my life, and I–I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. And I want to go to California to see the Pacific Ocean, and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me. So . . . what do you say?”
He stepped closer to you, his face just inches from yours, his voice incredibly gentle as he said, “I think I'd go just about anywhere you asked me to, Bunny. But are you sure it’s me who you’re wantin’ here?”
Your brow furrowed slightly at his response. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’m not the kind of guy girls like you fall for. I’m the exact opposite.” His free hand reached out and brushed a tendril of your hair behind your ear as his voice dropped an octave. “But when I'm with you . . . I feel like I could do better. Like maybe I could be better. Not perfect, but something closer to worthy.”
“I’ve been perfect my whole life. Perfect grades, perfect smile, a perfectly quiet doll on the shelf.” You look at the biker standing before you. The exact opposite of what you’ve been surrounded by your entire life. The exact person you’ve been told to stay away from. But there were things that you noticed about him now that you hadn’t when you first saw him at the picnic. Those hands, calloused and scarred from years of fighting, were holding your own gently as if you were made of glass. That mouth, capable of verbally hurting just about anyone who got in his way, only ever spoke softly to you. Those eyes which have undoubtedly seen their fair share of the worst of humanity, gaze at you as if you were the moon. This man, the excitement you feel you’ve been unknowingly waiting for your whole life. You stepped closer to him, your noses brushing together softly as you whispered, “I don’t think I want perfect anymore.”
“What do you want, Bunny?” he asked, an unmistakable vulnerability in his raw voice.
Your answer to him in nonverbal as you closed the gap between you, lips pressing against his softly. The world seemed to pause as you gently kissed Benny, your heart pounding in your chest. The kiss was soft at first, tentative as you both seemed to test the waters of something new and uncharted. Overcome by your overthinking, you began to draw back, but Benny’s palm cupped the side of your face, pulling you back to him with a more meaningful kiss. His lips were warm and rough, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand held yours early as he deepened the kiss with a sense of urgency that sent a wave of heat to fill your core. His hand moved to protect the back of your head as he backed you up to the cool brick of the wall behind you.
Benny’s mind was racing with a whirlwind of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He had been careful, so careful, to keep his distance, to remind himself that a girl like you would never be with a man like him. He had hoped, prayed, that you might return even an ounce of his feelings for you, but he had to be realistic. You were a beautiful dream, so far out of his reach. But now with your lips on his, your fragile hands clutching the fabric of his jacket, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. You were breaking down every wall he had built, showing him that just maybe, he was worth more than he believed.
He had never kissed anyone like this before – with a mix of tenderness and passion that made his heart ache in a way that both terrified and galvanized him. He moved his hand down your side, gripping your hip tightly. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want this moment to end. Because in this kiss, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.
He’d spent so long believing he wasn’t good enough– that his life was too rough, too messy for someone like you. But in this moment, as your breath mingled with his own and your heartbeat racing against his chest, he started to believe, even just a little, that he could be the man you saw in him. That he could be worthy of this, of you.
Your lips parted slightly, and Benny took the invitation, kissing you with a newfound fervor, pouring all his sentiments into it – the longing, the fear, the hope. The connection between you felt electric, and for the first time in a long time, Benny didn’t feel lost. He felt found. Found by you, found by this moment.
This is real, he thought almost in disbelief, She chose me. He could hardly comprehend it, but the evidence was right there in the way that you kissed him back with equal intensity, the way you clung to him as if he was the only thing grounding you. His lungs burned and he had to pull back, but he kept his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek. I don’t deserve her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but for the first time, another voice – a stronger one– countered, Maybe I could someday.
He opened his eyes, seeing the softness in your gaze, the way your parted lips were slightly swollen from the kiss. It hit him then, like a bolt of lightning. He wanted to be better, not just for himself, but for you. Because you deserved more than just a rough-edged biker, you deserved the world. And if you’d let him, Benny was determined to give it to you.
“Was–was that okay?” you asked breathlessly, unsure if you’d done it right, but hoping he had felt what you couldn’t put into words.
His eyes softened even more as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It was more than okay, Bunny.”
Your smile grew, a little more confident now, despite the heat tinging your cheeks. Suddenly the backdoor squeaked open and Brucie poked his head out the doorway.
“Benny, you’re up to shoot, kid,” he said and must have seen the closeness of your bodies, the way Benny still held onto your waist because he smirked smugly.
Benny didn’t even glance over. “Tell ‘em to hold my spot.”
“Pool?” you asked, tugging on his jacket lightly as Brucie disappeared back inside.
Benny nodded, grinning lazily down at you. “Yeah, you ever played?”
You shook your head, feeling a little shy. “No, never. But . . . I’d like to try.”
He raised his eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You want me to teach you?”
You nodded, this time with more certainty. “I think I’d like that.”
He took your hand, leading you back inside as the rain continued to pour around you. As he lead you back into the bar, the noise and constant chatter engulfing you once again, you felt reassured by the steady warmth of his hand in yours. And he didn't let go of your hand even when you got to the table. A few members cheered and teased Benny, but he only smiled and shook his head, his focus on you, instead. He stood behind you, positioning you gently.
“Here’s the thing,” he murmured, his voice low and just for you. “You don’t have to know everything right away. Sometimes it’s about the journey, not just the win.”
You looked over your shoulder with a small smile, your faces only inches apart. “I think I’m ready for the journey.”
Benny’s gaze gentled. “So am I, Bunny. So am I.”
-Tag List-
@ironmooncat @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @imusicaddict @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite @pearlstiare
#don’t touch me I’m in my feels#i love him so much#benny x bunny#benny cross#the bikeriders#austin butler#benny cross x reader#austin butler x reader#benny x reader#austin butler fandom#imagine#the bikeriders x you#tom hardy#johnny davis#the bikeriders x reader
536 notes
·
View notes
Text
the promised knight
knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader
♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you
word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)
genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be
content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch
also on♡— ao3
author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!
Your happiest years were when everyone was together.
Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.
Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.
“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground.
Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”
You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”
Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.
But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.
Everything changed when Kuina died.
She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident.
More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.
The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more.
A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.
“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”
Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”
Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.
“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”
“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”
The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.
There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.
“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair.
It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.
Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.
You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.
On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child.
Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?
You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.
The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.
“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”
Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute.
Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.
So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.
“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”
Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.
“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.
“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”
“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.
“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”
Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”
“Join my knights.”
Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”
“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”
At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”
“Obviously.”
“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”
“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”
Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.
It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—
“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”
When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.
“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”
Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk.
This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.
You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to?
Who is he kidding? He doesn’t.
And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?
After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.
“What do I need to do?”
Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.
“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”
“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?
A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.
“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”
Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”
Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”
“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”
You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”
Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.”
That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?
All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room.
The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.
You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.
But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.
“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed.
Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.
She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.
Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.
“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”
The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.
“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.
Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.
You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.
When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.
But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.
A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.
Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.
You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?
Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.”
How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.
It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”
When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.
“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.
“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.
Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.
You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.
“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.
“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”
You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.
Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head.
Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.
“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.
After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.
Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start.
Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better.
You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically.
“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.
Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.
You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”
“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink.
After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”
“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”
In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.
Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of.
But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?
“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”
Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him.
“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.
“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.
Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.
That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.
The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime.
He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were.
All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.
Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.
“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.
“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.
Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.
The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative.
Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.
Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills?
If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.
Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.
You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.
“Took you long enough!” Or not.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face.
“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”
Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know.
After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.
It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.
Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.
The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges.
You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.
The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.
“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.
Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.
Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.
When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.
No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.
You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.
“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”
‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway.
“You too, Zoro.”
In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.
“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”
“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”
“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”
“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.
“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.”
“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response.
‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.
“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.
But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.
“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.
“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”
“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”
“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.
“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”
“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”
“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”
Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.
It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.
A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open.
You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”
However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age.
“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.
“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.
“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”
“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.
“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?
A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.
“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor.
“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.
“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”
“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way.
“...Forget I said anything.”
Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet.
Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”
You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”
“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”
“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.
The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.
Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously.
It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.
Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—
…accident?
“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”
“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”
“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”
“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.”
He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—”
Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.”
You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”
“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.”
You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”
“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”
“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”
“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.
“How did your mother die?”
“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”
“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.”
“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”
It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same.
“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”
“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.
“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”
His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”
Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.
“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.
He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”
The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.
Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.
“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—
Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.
“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”
“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”
“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”
You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”
“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”
“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”
“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”
“Selma!”
If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone.
“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods.
“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”
But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.
The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon.
Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.
“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”
“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?
“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?”
Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.
“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”
Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”
“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”
The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.
“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”
“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.
Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him.
“...But of course, we won’t do that.”
Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.
“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”
“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze.
“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.
“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”
Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”
“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?
“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”
“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.
After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”
“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”
Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.
“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”
The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.
But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.
An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.
And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.
The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.
You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.
“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”
Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.
“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.
“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”
There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?
She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail.
Well, fuck.
Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.
You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.
And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.
It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.
“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.
“You will never be queen!” You roar back.
Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.
As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.
While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy.
“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”
The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.
He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords.
No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.
Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.
Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again.
You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.
Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage.
As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.
Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.
It’s done.
Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.
“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”
On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.
“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”
“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”
“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”
“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”
“Goodbye, Mihawk.”
Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you.
Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around.
Like right now. What’s taking you so long?
The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water.
“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”
“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”
Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”
“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell.
He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.
Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”
Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.
“You’re okay.” You murmur.
“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.
“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.
Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.
“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”
He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.
But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now.
You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”
Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”
The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.
Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.
When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.
The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.
Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.
Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.
You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.
“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”
What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.
As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space.
Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.
“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.
“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."
“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”
“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring.
“...Take care of her, Zoro.”
“Of course. I promise.”
As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”
The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”
When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here.
“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”
“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”
Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”
That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.
Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.
“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.
“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”
“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”
“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.
There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.
“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.
“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”
Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.
The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.
Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.
“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.
“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”
Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”
“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”
Many years ago…
The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue.
After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.
Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”
Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”
“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”
Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.
“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”
“Kuina! Get back here!”
read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"
© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡
tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna
#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro x reader#opla zoro x reader#opla zoro#opla x reader#zoro roronoa x y/n#zoro reader insert#zoro#zoro one piece#one piece#opla#zoro x you#zoro fluff#zoro roronoa x reader#op x reader#one piece zoro#roronoa zoro#zoro fic#zoro imagine#one piece x reader#one piece headcanons#one piece fluff#one piece netflix#opla imagine#togenabi-writes
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
🎀 can i get a pithivier and angel food cake and croissant nanaimo bars (but also a pull-apart bread bc i’m a softy) with a side of a martini and an early grey 🤭 for daniel ricciardo pretty please ❤️❤️
bakery menu
want to submit an order? then check out the menu! there is all kinds of things on there! thank you in advance and enjoy! as for this lovely anon, thank you so much for the order! i hope you love what i've come up with! with the cherry on top of the pull-apart bread! AND the mafia au, this was a lovely order to write. i hope it's amazing! so yes! enjoy!!
pithivier ("if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you.") + angel food cake ("if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you.") + croissants ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + pull-apart bread ("i love you") + martini (mafia au) + earl grey tea (big cock) served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!!
cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, big cock!daniel, wolff!reader, mafia boss!daniel, mafia boss daughter!reader, affection
the wolf and her moon. the smiling moon that led her from the pack and into the arms of one of the scariest men on the continent. in the glimmering lights of monaco, miss wolff spent her evenings with mister ricciardo, the head of a prominent mafia family.
you were not scared of that life, your adoring father was toto wolff. you had been surrounded by the life for as long as you could remember. you remembered being driven to school by men in dark suits. you remembered going on dates as a teen and seeing the same men in shady corners near where you were. even now as an adult the cloak of your father felt close.
which was why it took a fair bit to get close to daniel ricciardo.
you had been with daniel for a few months now. there was something about him that simply pulled you in. you knew he was a dangerous man, you once spent a night in france with him and mapped out his tattoos with your lips.
he treated you like you were capable, that you weren't something to be protected. even though he did have a habit of keeping a hand on your lower back and opening doors for you. you've only ever once paid for a meal and he loved when you wore the things he bought for you.
currently you were in his home, you just had dinner and were enjoying each other's company. daniel's thick fingers were in your hair as you laid out next to him. the lights were low and you both weren't pay attention to the movie he had put on. you knew it was a marvel movie, but you stopped paying attention to them ages ago.
"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." daniel said out loud.
you sighed and pressed yourself further against him and looked up at him, "my father doesn't matter right now. he's off doing whatever tonight."
he rubbed the back of your head and said jokingly, "well you know, if he fucks with me or the family again, i'm finishing inside of you." then kissed you on the face.
you pulled away a little, "i've been hearing all about this power vacuum. should i be worried that you'll do something to my father."
daniel pulled you in once more and peppered your face with kisses, "never. after all, he'll eventually be my father-in-law." and watched you duck your head in embarrassment. he laughed, "i want the satisfaction of him walking you down the aisle.
you rolled your eyes and kissed him all over the face, "i just want both of you safe." you got into his lap and held onto his face. the kiss deepened with his strong arms around you.
when he pulled away he said, "i promise." then pulled you onto your back and kissed you once more, "i can't have my future wife without her husband." he chuckled and stroked your face.
you melted every time he called you that. you sometimes wondered if he was already picking out rings and if you were brought up in backroom conversations between him and your father.
he peppered kissed along your jaw and felt a pull of affection towards you, "i love you."
you giggled and stared up at him, you felt a blush in your cheeks. you felt a thump in your chest and love that dripped into your soul. you joked, "for a mafia boss, you're a big softie."
he rolled his eyes, "what do you want me to say? if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you? never. i love you too much." then kissed at you softly.
you melted a little more, honey in your soul, "you big sap!" you slapped his chest playfully and he pulled you in for a massive kiss.
"yeah, but you're my pretty girl." he want in for another kiss and said slyly, ""who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."
you burst into laughter and squirmed under him. he soon had the bottom of your tank top off over your head and his hands on your breasts.
"c'mon, beautiful. who is my pretty girl? who is the girl who lights me alive and fills me full of love." he kissed at your face with his hands on your breasts. he palmed at the flesh and you arched your back.
you moaned and he started to work on getting your sweatpants off. in all fairness they originally belonged to him, but you told him that women's sweatpants sucked. "if i'm wearing sweatpants, i don't wanna look sexy!" but he thought you looked sexy in his pair.
you reached out for him and placed your palms across his covered chest. he was in a white tank top and similar grey sweats (the other pair he had to buy). you could see the thin gold chair he wore.
it was a hot sight, especially as he got the tank top off and exposed his toned chest to you. you exhaled deeply through you nose and said, "fuck you're hot. my entire life i thought that the mafia were a bunch of busted nose with a fat lip goons who enjoyed beating the shit out of random people." that was what your father told you about men who worked for the families as a means to steer you away from them. he wanted you to be with a man with a white collar job.
"well." daniel chuckled as he rubbed his clothed cock up against your panties, "you've seen me with a fat lip, two broken noses and a broken foot."
"it wasn't broken per say. you did have to get those stitches."
daniel chuckled, "damn verstappen, dropping that wine bottle on it." he got himself out of his briefs and you out of your panties. he admired the sight of your sweet cunt exposed in the soft lighting of the bedroom.
you swallowed at the sight of his cock out of his underwear. daniel had a big cock, you remember the first time you saw it and your eyes got wide. it still left a shiver through it you even now, but you were a little more accustomed to its size.
daniel got closer to you, his chest against yours as he took you by the hips. with a little work, he sank his cock into you. you let out a sweet moan and daniel felt a flash of heat in his chest.
"mmm, beautiful."
you smiled up at him and reached for his face. you pulled him in to a soft kiss and ran your fingers across his chest. his heartbeat was home.
your arms wrapped around him as he thrusted up into you. the two of you moved together, daniel's gaze lingered on you. from your beautiful eyes to your soft lips. the shape of your face and any little 'imperfections' across your skin. he thought it was all beautiful, he tried not to leer at your breasts. you were a person, not meat for him to ogle at.
you held onto him as he continued to move. you could felt lustful flames lick at you core. your back arched a little when his cock prodded up against some of your softest areas.
daniel was a generous lover, he loved the feeling of you. his kisses lingered, wet against your face and neck. you two were wound up into one another as he moved his hips against yours.
from two mafia families, put together. fitting together like puzzle pieces. if anyone from either of your family saw this sexual display, heads would roll.
but you and daniel didn't care. you wanted one another in a way that left you both feeling lot. it wasn't just a sexual heat, but something deeper. something that made you yearn for the other man.
when you looked at him, you felt special. you were a special girl in many ways, not only because of your father's name. you were smart, funny, had friends, and overall were a delight to be about. you had hobbies and aspirations. you were one of a kind, but when daniel looked at you. it sent it all into overdrive, to daniel you were the most important thing on this earth.
you knew with enough convincing, you two could leave the mafia life behind together. run off to the mountains of switzerland and have three children.
daniel kissed you once more, they were hot and heavy as your hands explored one another. you could almost feel your lover's heartbeat.
when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, "one day i'm going to marry you. and i can't wait. you're going to make a beautiful wife for me."
"what about-"
"it'll work out." he pulled his face a little bit and he winked at you. he plants his hands on either side of you and continued to thrust up into you.
you clutched onto his shoulders and he moved faster. you felt the flush of heat through your chest at the feeling and sight of your beloved. this was where you wanted to be. with daniel.
daniel continued to move against you. he shifted your hips and got your knees to your head. he thrusted against you from the perfect angle. a proper mating press for a proper girl.
it only heightened the pleasure, to have you lover hit all the right spots. you moaned and clutched onto the back of your knees as he moved against you. he kissed you once more before you came around his cock. your pretty nails dug into your flesh as he moved against you. the intensity of it made daniel finish as well.
his cum shot into the furthest parts of you as he continued to rock against you. his pulse shot through the roof and sweat made his back shiny. the rush was like a shock to his system. he held you in his arms and rolled to the side.
you laid there naked, daniel's arms around you and eventually your face was in his chest. you felt the after feelings of pleasure and laid tangled up in the man you loved.
he kissed the side of your head and you felt warm. loved.
-
"sonnenschein." your father greeted you in his home office a few days later. you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you. your father gestured to the chair across from him.
you sat gently across from him, straightened your skirt. you then looked at your father once more and asked, "is everything okay?"
"of course. no need to worry." was a common phrase from your father. it made you give him a look and he gave a similar one in return. "you know i care for you, right?" toto said, his hands on the desk. he idly straightened out the mat under his palms. your father seemed nervous, your father was never nervous.
you shifted in your seat, "what's happening, papa." your eyebrows raised and there was a tightness in your chest.
toto sighed, eyes looked away for a moment, "things have gotten complicated in the network of all the families. there is a struggle for power. i fear something is coming and i need to protect you, sonnenschein...."
"are you sending me away?"
"no, no... you'll stay here. of course. i don't want you to feel like a pawn in these games. but, i need the biggest favor from you."
you nodded, "anything."
toto leaned back in his chair and held eye contact with you. the man who taught you how to ride a bike and a shoot a gun. who told you that dreams were only possible if the work was put into it. he had raised a confident young woman. which was why it broke his heart to say, "i need you to be in an arranged married with daniel ricciardo."
your eyes went wide and your heart skipped a beat. you put on a performance of a lifetime as you said to your father, "of course! anything for our family." <3
#bunny writes#the bakery#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo#daniel riccardo x reader#dr3 x reader#dr3 x y/n#dr3 smut#dr3#formula one smut#formula one imagine#formula 1#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 rpf#formula one#formula racing#f1 smut#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 rpf#f1 x reader#f1
430 notes
·
View notes
Text
TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)
Immune: Two
WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)
CW: Suggestive themes, mention of rape, female masturbation, second hand embarrassment
Masterlist
You looked at the dishes piled up in the sink, a wave of nausea hitting you. A part of you was glad, comforted by the idea of having humans around yet you couldn’t shake the substantial feeling of dread.
What if they killed you? Or raped you? Or both? What would happen to your body? Would you turn? Would you just decompose and hopefully move onto a better place? Your mind thumped against the thick walls of your skull before you felt a hand placed on your shoulder. A hand clamped your shoulder.
“You ‘lright?” Price said, a comforting smile adorned on his face before you shrugged his hand off.
“Just fine,” you reply, a tight smile on your face, “I’ll show you the bedrooms.” They followed you upstairs, the pounding of their boots against the floor giving you a headache. You led them to a bedroom, the subtle smell of dust lingering as you took in the unused space. There was a double bed, a mint green quilt with pink roses adorning it, two pillows both placed neatly on either side. “You can figure out who goes where,” you say, pushing the door open from across the hall.
You walk into the second guest room, a queen sized bed splat in the middle, a dark blue quilt tucked in, a row of grey pillows furnishing the top. “There’s a bathroom down the hall to the right. The plumbing still works somehow but don’t over-flush. You can have a shower but the water will be cold,” you say, attempting to sound intimidating as you avert your gaze.
“Thank you,” Price smiled, stepping inside the room.
Gaz and Soap offered you a squeeze on the shoulder quickly, a polite thank you leaving their mouth. Ghost however, sorted just stared at you, blinking slowly before turning towards the first room.
You find yourself thinking as you brushed Cecil, his grey fur shedding quickly as you stroked his behind, whispering small praises towards the large animal.
What if you tell them to leave and they don’t? What if they take over your house and kick you out? What if-
You stop yourself, rubbing your head in your hands as you lead the horses back to the barn, preparing dinner for the other animals before locking the door securely. You finished up outside, ensuring the crops were well watered before heading up the porch steps and through the back door.
Gaz was sat on the couch, a book in his hands as he looked up. “I hope you don’t mind, found it on the shelf.”
You kept your face straight but nodded, “It’s fine.” Truth be told, it was as comforting to have people around, the same as it was fearful. You knew that if they tried anything, they would win, no matter what gun you hold.
Time seems to be going quicker as you prepare a salad with some grown vegetables with bread. You were glad that your father was a chef, always teaching you how to make things from scratch. You didn’t like to dwell, hoping that somehow your family were immune too. Maybe one day, you would see them again. Maybe.
You placed the loaf of dough inside a tray before lighting the woodburner and placing it inside. You hummed softly to yourself as you heard footsteps against the wooden stairs. “Feeding us again, bonnie?”
“Only if it’ll get you guys to leave me alone,” you reply, not bothering to look at him. You hear his tongue click softly as he shuffles over to you.
“Y’ need help?”
You lowered the knife, gesturing for him to take over as you step outside, sitting on the old porch chair as you tuck your legs up, arms holding them in place as you stare out, the hues of the sun disappearing as the night begins to consume it.
As night falls, you head inside, hands reaching into the burner to grab the bread as you let it cool. You looked at the large bowl of vegetables tossed together, the men gathered around the never-used dining table, chattering amongst each other.
You let them sit for a while before calling out. It was entertaining watching the four grown men subtly walk faster than the other to get a plate first. You cut the bread, steam gauging out of each slice before you sat down at the dining table, fingers nervously fiddling with the metal cutlery.
They sat down around you, looking at you occasionally as you ate. “Listen, we do appreciate-“ Price began before you cut him off.
“You’ve told me. You can stay for the night but you’re off tomorrow. I prefer living alone.”
Price nods as the others look down, the sound of lettuce and carrot crunching filling the awkward void. As they finished up, you locked the doors and shut the blinds, the gentle hum of the fire comforting you before you head upstairs.
Your eyes flicker between pages of a book as you nestle in bed. You were clad in a sheer nightgown, your usual pyjama set hanging to dry outside. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read. While cliche, for a while everything felt normal when absorbing yourself between lines of paper, like you were simply escaping reality.
A gentle knock sounded on your door as you looked up. Price stood there, gentle smile on his face as he asked to come in.
“What is it?” You answered.
“I know I’ve said it, but thank you. Even if it was just for a day, it’s helped us a lot. Not many people, especially a woman alone, would let four men into her home… not during a time like this.”
Your body tensed for a second before it relaxed. You let out a soft sigh, placing the book on the side as you stood up to look at him closer. There was no use in lying, he was very attractive. His stern looking face covered with a bushy beard and moustache, blue eyes staring intensely under thick brows. He was older, the evidence of faint wrinkles indented on his forehead, yet his body was still in shape.
You were never a prude, but also never pushed for unnecessary encounters with the opposite sex. You weren’t an ugly girl, your features working well together, especially when you weren’t scowling.
“I-“ you begin, trying to think of what to say, “I appreciate you saying that. You guys are the first… real people I’ve come across since this all began. I know how difficult it is. And I suppose it wasn’t bad to reencounter civilisation.”
Price lets out a shallow laugh, hand coming up to squeeze at your shoulder as he looks at you. You don’t shrug him away this time, allowing the grip to scold your skin with prickling heat. You didn’t speak, simply watching him back through hooded lashes.
You felt your nipples pebble, the cold air brushing through as you remembered the warmth of your bed. You watch his gaze flicker down to your chest, sucking in a silent breath before he looked back up at you.
Had it been 296 days for him too without a woman? Had it been 296 days for all of them without a woman?
You didn’t shy away from his gaze, heat spreading across your body as you felt the timid intimidation of a low throb in your pussy. You offered him a small smile before gripping the door. “Goodnight, John.”
“Night, love.”
You felt like a fucking teenager, with your gown bunched up at your waist, hands timorous as they softly rolled the sensitive bud in a circular motion, gentle pants spilling from your lips. Everything felt more real, more heightened, probably from the lack of touching down there for months.
Dipping your fingers into your slit, legs spread and needy, you could feel the antagonising slick tease your hole, pooling at the crevice of your ass. This wet over a random man? You should feel ashamed, should, but you don’t. The light sound of squelching lit your room as you plunged a desperate finger into your heat, a rough gasp leaving your throat as you lie back further.
You tease yourself, left hand reaching down to entertain your neglected clit as another finger braced your entrance. Did it always feel like this? Did my fingers always not feel like enough? Like they needed something more?
A wanton moan stained the room as you thrashed your head against the pillow, sticky fingers just reaching that gooey spot inside you, swift thrusts causing your eyes to roll back.
You felt like a virgin again, pussy barely able to take two fingers and minimal thrusts before the coil in your stomach began to form.
Would it be so bad to call him in? Soak his beard in your cunt? Feel what it’s like to take two fingers properly? Maybe more?
You felt like you had a balloon growing inside you, every swift movement expanding it more, ready to pop, ready to let your body release, ready to feel satisfi-
“F’cking hell-“
You looked at the sudden burst of sound, eyes darting over to your least favourite in the house, visible crinkles in his dirty mask. His eyes visibly darting to your heat, taking in your fingers stuffed inside, the slickness coating them.
You squealed, orgasm barely washing over you as you twitched, pulling your fingers out abruptly and straightening your nightgown.
“GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screeched, voice cracking as you wobbled to the door and slammed it shut, body leaning against it as you panted. You stilled, listening to hear his footsteps walk over but the comforting sound never came.
#poly 141 x reader#141 x reader#call of duty x reader#simon riley#ghost#john soap mactavish#soap#captain john price#price#kyle gaz garrick#gaz#ghost smut#soap smut#captain price smut#141 au#141 smut#poly!141 smut
946 notes
·
View notes
Text
Our world collided ! — Nishimura Riki
Genre: fluff, angst-ish.. Drabble, opposites attract, friends to lovers, childhood best friends, high school au
wc: 1.2k+ (1238)
warnings: kissing (like once), pet names (pretty girl), jealousy
pairing: emo!niki x coquette!reader
Masterlist
“Okay that’s enough” Niki says while pushing your hands off his hair.
“What—no I’m not even close to being done..!?” You complained, hoping he’ll let you continue to let you play with his hair. The current situation being that Niki’s hair being into pigtails along with some of your hair bows attached. You thought it was cute..while he thought the opposite. “It’s hurting my scalp, take these off me now..” he demanded.. you noticed the slight pout only his face. Making you chuckle.
“I’d rather not..” you say, squishing his cheeks. He rolls his eyes before grabbing a hold of your wrist and pulling it away from him.. “I warned you..” That’s all you heard until you felt the wall against your back.. you close your eyes at the impact until a few seconds past and you open them seeing Niki infront of you kneeling down to reach your height.. your heart sped up from him being this close..
“Umm…” you say hoping he would (not) back away. Niki gets closer noses barely centimeters from touching each other.. you breathe hitched. Niki notices this, smirking.. you could feel your face getting hot. You felt like he was going to kiss you.. that’s until he pulls his face away from yours.. laughing at your reaction.. “Why so shy..hmm?” He asked while smirking.. you glare up at him, clearly embarrassed.
But that won’t stop him from teasing you. “I’m not shy..just..surprised..” You said your gaze softened..you glance up, he’s staring at you.. you look away before walking away from him..disappointed.. Niki sighs at the sight of you walking away.. “Did I really make her upset?” He asks himself, wondering.
The school day was near the end.. you looked up the clock.. 15 more minutes left and then you can leave. You’re lucky this time you don’t have class with Niki. As you only have 2 with him and lunch period. You got distracted, letting time fly by quickly. You check the clock again..so so so close only 2 minutes.. you just go ahead and start packing up your things..within those 2 minutes the bell finally rings dismissing all the students for the day. You past students trying to avoid bumping into Niki ever since what happened earlier. You really had your hopes up, expecting him to like you after all these years of being friends and yet…nothing. You quickly pick up your pace and walk out the gate.. you usually walk home with Niki as your both next door neighbors having your moms be best friends back in their days. You don’t see him anywhere, not bothering to wait too..you just start walking home..alone which is rare.
You’ve made it home taking off your shoes and tossing them out of your way. You set your bag down. Walking to your room. Opening the door you rush towards your bed, jumping onto it. Letting the cool sheets hit your face. Your aching body feels better when the feeling of your bed hits it. You rest a bit before leaving your room seeing what’s there to eat. While you wait for your mom to come home.. you find some kind of chips and decide to snack on it.
You make your way over to the living room..you can see through the sheer curtain.. something catches your eye.. two figures walking.. side by side. You walk a little bit closer seeing its Niki.. and another girl.. you don’t know her..never seen her either.. you frown at the sight in front of you.. “that should be me” you thought.. you noticed he still had the bows you used on him from earlier.. clipped to his bag. You take one more look before you see them both entering his house.. you just too push whatever just happened out of your mind.
Hours later..you couldn’t stop thinking about Niki with another girl aside from you? You knew he was earlier scared by girls no matter who it was except for you of course.. the unknown girl left about an hour ago you look out your bedroom window seeing the light in Niki’s on. You see the cup and strings from your window from the outside.. that’s how you and Niki used to communicate.. you resist using it.. thinking it seems foolish.. but you decided to anyway.. you open up your window.. a gust of wind blowing your hair out of your face.
You pick up the cup.. tapping into it 2 times remembering the code you both set up a long time ago. You weren’t expecting him to answer.. a few moments of silence passed you debated to go back inside or try again, before tapping your finger twice again.. you hear his window open up.. you look up seeing him.. in a basic black tee.. yet he looked so good. Moonlight shining his skin.. giving it a youthful look. Niki was in the same daze as you admiring your face.. doe eyes.. staring straight right at him.. plump lips he wishes to one day kiss. Niki slowly picks up the cup speaking into it.
“Need something..?” He says, your throat goes dry.. it’s like you never talked to him before. You clear your throat.. “Umm—can I get my hair bows back..I’m using it for tomorrow..” you made that up..it was the only believable one to get an excuse to talk to him.. “oh I don’t know if I can throw it at you..” “no I mean can I come over just for a bit..” you say.
You can see his reaction slightly confused but agreed anyway. You take a short trip to his house..going through the back door like it was your own home. You go up to his room. You knock before he opens the door for you. Niki is met with you and your hello kitty pajamas.. and hair in 2 braids decorated with bows. “Hi..” you said slowly.. Niki moves aside allowing you to enter. You keep your gaze low, but from a far you can see your bows.. you quickly grabbed it.. “That’s all?” Niki asks..
“Yes..wait actually yea.. no I mean no….i still have something to ask” Niki close the door, sitting down on his bed.. “yeah?” You get embarrassed to ask this but you continue on.. “Umm..I was wondering who that girl was..that you know you were walking with earlier..” you said avoiding his gaze completely. You hear him chuckle lightly.. “that..oh well..she just wanted to hang out..knowing her intentions..but don’t worry I don’t like her..” “why would I be worried if she likes you or—“ Your voice slowly fades away when you realize Niki's face is close up to yours. “There’s no denying it..I can see right through you..” you knew you were already blushing by now. “Not that I would want you to deny it..because..I so happen to feel the same..” he added smiling at you. You never see him smile. Always having a blank face for most part. Niki holds your jaw bringing your face closer to his before colliding your lips together. Lips against lips. His soft lips against yours. The kiss was tender..slow.. moments later he pulls away.. “Now pretty girl, care to cuddle..” he offered, holding his arms out.. you smiled at him.. “Of course”
Author’s note: get a little inspiration from the book I’m reading rn which is if he had been with me RAHH 🦅 back with my writing haven’t written for Niki in so long along with sunoo WHICH I NEED TO DO ASAP! Crazy how this was in my drabbels for 2 days while my hee one is a month and it’s not coming out anytime soon 🙄💀
© ynsvnte copyright 2024
#kflixnet#mari: works *#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen crack#enhypen angst#enhypen fake texts#enhypen soft hours#enha x reader#enha imagines#enha fluff#enha reactions#enha scenarios#enha#enhypen nishimura riki#nishimura niki#niki nishimura#riki nishimura x reader#ni ki enhypen#enhypen niki#nishimura riki#niki x reader#enha niki#niki fanfic#niki fluff#niki imagines
1K notes
·
View notes