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winwintea · 7 hours

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the last dance - huang renjun

PAIRING ▸ painter!huang renjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ romance, fluff, angst, lots of angst, supernatural, wayyy too much angst

WARNINGS ▸ angst. and character death

SUMMARY ▸ you've fallen in love with the gentle painter, renjun. though the locals call you a witch, renjun doesn't seem to care. but that all changes when they come to kill you. no matter how much pain it causes, you'll never regret falling in love with him.

WORD COUNT ▸3.7k (not proofread 😭)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ suffer

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST

Something feels quite warm… it was an unusually comforting warmth, and it lay right beside you. You opened your eyes- “Renjun?” The source of the warmth was the human Renjun, who was lying next to you in bed. Strange. What is he doing asleep in your room? And yet, all your questions and concerns disappeared when you looked at his sleeping face. He was as beautiful as an angel. Renjun had more than an angel’s good looks. He had the heart of one too.

You recalled your first real conversation, just a few days after he’d arrived here. There had been an accident in the stables with one of our horses. Renjun was going to be trampled. You’d pushed him out of the way. He carried your bruised and broken body inside, apologizing all the while… “Oh, god…! Oh, miss, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for you to get hurt! I should have gotten out of the way…!”

You felt so bad seeing Renjun blame himself, that before you knew it you were saying, “It’s all right. You mustn’t fear for me. I’m what they call… a witch.”

“A witch?” “See for yourself. My wounds…they’re gone.” You gestured towards your arms, displaying them for him to see.

“So, you can… cast magic?”

“...Not exactly. Humans are quick to label all they deem as frightening witches, but my true title is an eterni.”

“‘Frightening?’” “Yes. Those who know of us and this place fear it and refuse to talk about it. It’s all quite silly, when you pause to think!” I tried to laugh it off in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Renjun looked serious.

“You don’t have to smile if it makes you sad. You don’t have to lock away your emotions. That forced smile doesn’t look right on you. And they shouldn’t call you such awful names. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a person, just like me. And a nice one, too.” “But I’m not like you, I’m a-” “Your wounds may heal fast, but did they hurt when you got them?”

His point resonated with me. You’d never had a human care so much. The ice that had formed around your heart after so much pain and betrayal began to melt with his words. Could you… trust him? “See, Y/n? There’s nothing separating you and me. Nothing that I care about.” After that, you and Renjun began to spend more time together. To the exclusion of the other men Ricky had brought. That didn’t mean you expected to see him in your bed! Just then, Renjun stirred… “..mmhm..Good…morning… huh? Y/n? What are you doing in my bed?” “I’m afraid you’re in my bed, Renjun.” “...I am…?” Renjun sat up and looked around in shock. “... I woke up thirsty in the middle of the night and went to the kitchen for some water. I guess I ended up in your room. Sorry, I still don’t know this place well!” He was even charming when he was guilty. Renjun truly seemed descended from the angels. “Do not apologize. You were warm, so I was rather happy to have you in bed with me.” “Um.. you were?” “I mean, it’s not the fact that you were in bed with me that made me happy! It was-” Actually, there’s nothing incorrect about what you said. It DID make you happy. You couldn’t seem to explain it right.

Renjun leaned forward in bed, looking at you. “Are you saying I’m like a dog?” “A dog?” “Yeah. Like you felt happy because it was just like sleeping with a big, warm dog?”

Of course it wasn’t the same. Because Renjun, I’ve fallen in love with you…

You’d fallen in love with the man who smiled at you and told you, you were the same. He had let you feel what you’d never felt before. But you’d decided not to tell this to Renjun. For you were soon to leave this world… “There’s nothing to fear. I don’t think of you as a dog. Although, you are a bit like a puppy.” “Wait, so now I’m a smaller dog…?” “I simply mean that you’re cute. Now, you will want breakfast, of course. And after that, you’re going to paint, aren’t you?” He smiled and nodded. Truly, you couldn’t bear to darken such a bright smile with your grim fate.

—

Changing into his artist’s apron, Renjun set up his easel in the garden. He got to work quickly and quietly, the mark of a professional. Renjun’s profession was painter. He specialized in portraits.

“Now that the underlying sketch is complete, you’re going to add in the color-?” “That’s right. This is actually my favorite part of the job. Though it’s the most challenging.” In one hand, he held his palette, thick dollops of paint creating a cascade of colors.

While pretending to read, you surreptitiously watched Renjun at work. You had once asked him why he chose portraiture of all subjects. Renjun told you that he wanted to capture the emotions of his subjects in the moment. How they lived, not just the way they looked. You could see yourself spending an eternity with someone as wonderful as him. But that was wrong for him. His life and his work was so passionately mortal. Renjun captured what was everlasting. You could not take away what he was. “...Yep, it’s time for a break.” “Renjun, may I ask you something?” He shook his head and nodded, “I was hoping you could promise me something. Once the full moon comes, the gate will open and you’ll be free to leave the mansion.” Renjun nodded again, curiosity in his dark almond eyes. “When that happens, I want you to paint as many portraits as possible. To capture as many smiles on your canvas as you can.”

His voice was soft when he spoke again, “All right. I promise. But first, can you tell me something in exchange?” Those beautiful eyes of his suddenly became clouded, “Why did your butler bring us here in the first place? What did you need?” It was the question you’d most feared. “I’ve just been thinking. You haven’t tried to attack anyone, so… why?”

He was right in that he was brought here for a purpose. Renjun and the others had been brought here for you to turn into lesser eterni to continue the line… and save your life. But you had rebelled against that notion and chosen to fade away instead of sharing a fate you found worse than death… “There was no reason, not really! You see, it has been Ricky and me alone for so long now. It seems Ricky got the silly notion that I might want more company. That I would feel lonely now for the first time in centuries! It’s unfathomable, don’t you think?” “Well, I can’t say, since I haven’t lived even a fraction of your lifetime, but I don’t think loneliness is something you get used to. I think you can feel it at any time. And that you can’t easily ignore it.” Renjun spoke to your soul. His paintings could reveal someone’s true self; his words had the same power. “Hey, Y/n? After the gate opens and we’re let out, is it possible to come back? Could I come back and see you?” He wanted to come back here? Your heart ached with a desire to say yes… but you will be gone as soon as he leaves. “That would be a terrible idea. What if you got trapped here for another month? You should spend that time painting!” “I’ll find the time. I’ll make it work.”

“You really can’t. You mustn’t.” Renjun wasn’t satisfied but he didn’t argue, “Hmm. If I can’t… then tell me what I can do to help you now, before I leave.” How could he be so kind? If you could request one thing of Renjun… “Would you dance with me before the full moon has taken it’s place in the sky?” “You want me to dance with you?” “Yes. I used to love dancing, but I’ve lost anyone to dance with a long, long time ago. How does that sound?” “Of course I’ll dance with you. I might need some time to practice if I’m going to be any good at it. Can you wait a little?” You nodded, feigning a smile.

I’m sorry, Renjun. It’s true that I love dancing and dreamed of sharing a dance with the one I love.

Pureblood eterni stop aging past a certain point, which is why we can never stay in one place else we can be caught. And so you’d never sought out love, with a human or eterni. You could not risk them suffering the horrendous fate of your family. Please allow me this selfish wish. A last memory of you that I can carry with me until the end…

—

Ricky tended to the front gardens, though his heart was not in it. “Hmm? That is most curious.” There appeared to be a stake planted just outside the gate. Attached to it was a sign. “...This…is not good!” Ricky’s cries were unfortunately heard by Renjun who had happened to be nearby, “Hey, Ricky. What’s that sig-” Renjun stopped and read it for himself. The sign read: “The occupants of this cursed residence have been found guilty of witchcraft and will be punished with death.” “‘Witchcraft’? They must mean Y/n.” “How did you know madame has-?” “Early on, she told me she’d been called a witch before.” “My lady has done nothing wrong-! Some years ago, I..I had encouraged her to visit the city. But there was an accident. She saved people with no thought to her own safety, but when they saw her wounds heal rapidly, they called her a witch.” “She’s always sacrificing herself to help others.” Renjun’s gaze fell, his voice soft. “Ricky, have you gotten these kinds of notices before? Any threatening letters?” “No. Not since we hid ourselves away. This is all my fault. Because I trapped the five of you here, they’ve come to kill us..” Ricky, normally calm and collected, was shaken to his core; steel eyes now pale with fright. “The gates will open on the full moon. If they storm the mansion, there is nothing we can do. Oh, Madame, what have I done?” “Ricky, it’s going to be all right. If they do come, I’ll talk to them. Once they know we’re all right they’ll understand. I won’t let them kill Y/n or you. Listen, you had some reason for bringing us here, right? Some reason important enough to risk being discovered?” Ricky was startled out of his thoughts, though any words died on his tongue, “If you don’t want to say what it is, that’s okay. Let me say something instead… I’ll help you protect Y/n. No matter what. So don’t worry. I’ll be all right.” Ricky said nothing as Renjun continued on, “First let’s make sure the others don’t find out about this, especially Y/n, okay?” Renjun moved some vines to disguise the view of the sign from their side of the gate, “It hurt her enough to be called a witch. I don’t want her to have to know about this.” “Why do you care so much for madame?” “I guess I only have one answer to that… I love her. So of course I want to protect her.” Renjun spoke, his voice strong and true. “Sir Renjun, I must-” “What is it Ricky?” “If you are indeed… in love with the Madame, then I feel as if I must tell you something. Though my lady forbid me to speak of it, on the night of the full moon she will…” —

The final days passed frighteningly fast. At last, the full moon began to reveal it’s pale form beyond the horizon. You can feel it. Somehow, you know when the moon reaches it’s final point, your end will come. You changed into a dress suitable for dancing and waited for Renjun’s arrival. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Y/n.” “Renjun!” He met you on the balcony, stunning in his suit and his angelic smile. “You look especially beautiful tonight. Of course, you always look pretty.” “You think so?” “Yeah. I mean, I think you already know I’m no good at lying.” “I had some idea. Thank you, Renjun.” Renjun turned his hand up and held it out, “Will you give me this dance, my lady?”

You’d danced with stylishly dressed partners. Renjun, wearing the jacket he arrived in and a touch of moonlight, outshone them all. “...It would be my pleasure.” I lay my hand in his and we took our first steps together. There was no orchestra playing for us. There were no chandeliers, just the moon above. But you would rather be dancing here, than in the grandest dance hall. You had not expected your last night to end in such a pleasant way. With this as your final memory, you could happily turn to ash. Or so you told yourself. “Renjun, the gate will be opening any moment. It may already be open, in fact.” Renjun said nothing. Perhaps he was looking for the words to say goodbye? “Do not worry. There’s nothing you need to say. Though before you go, I wish to thank-” “Don’t say thank you like you’re saying goodbye.” His voice was still ringing in your ears when you realized Renjun was now holding you tight. “Renjun? Wh-what is it?” “I promise I won’t let you die.” “...W-what do you…?” “Ricky told me that if you don’t let a human drink your blood by tonight, you’ll turn to ash.” The peaceful lie you had created shattered. So it had come to this. “But then they become an eterni. And you’d rather disappear yourself, than do that to someone. Right?” There was nothing to say. He was right. “I don’t want you to disappear, Y/n. Won’t you let me drink your blood instead?” The arms that held me and the voice that pled with me were all shaking. “Renjun, I cannot do that.” “Why not?” He broke from me, his gaze pained. “Look at me, Y/n.”

Suddenly there were shouts from below. Angry shouts. They were getting louder. You leaned over the balcony to look out into the garden; you were shocked by what you saw. A crowd of humans were spilling through the open gates and into the mansion grounds. “...They’re here.” “Who are they? What is going on?” “It’s nothing. I’ll be right back. Please, promise me you’ll stay here.” He smiled as if to calm me, but Renjun raced down the stairs with frightening urgency. It obviously wasn’t nothing! You looked back at the townspeople outside your home. Torches and weapons–both real and improvised–held high. That mob. You had seen their kind before. You could not let Renjun go out there alone. No sooner had you exited into the foyer, you saw them coming in through the front door. They had taken Ricky. “Release the men you’ve taken prisoner and bring out the witch!” “I’ve been trying to tell you, we’ve already released them! As for the madame, I am afraid I cannot let you in to see her!” “He lies! I’m sure they’ve already killed them! MONSTERS! You and your devil’s mistress will pay with your lives!” Their cries for vengeance rose louder until they were furious and uncontrollable. They grabbed Ricky, restrained and shoved him, attempting to push him through the crowd at the door and outside. Five men go missing from the village. Of course they would come searching. And now, they’re here to kill us. I needed to do something, but fear–memories of my family’s brutal slaughter–froze me to the spot. Until I heard a voice. “She’s not a witch!” “Is that… Renjun? It’s you! You’re alive?!” “Yes, I’m alive! And she didn’t kill the others either! That’s why I won’t let you kill her!” You wanted to call out to him. They wouldn’t listen. “She’s bewitched you! Renjun, wake up! Remember who you are! You’re human!” Another added, “W-what if it’s too late? Where’s the witch? She may be speaking through him!” “No! Listen to me. I haven’t been bewitched and I’m not being controlled! Everyone, please. Let them both go. Put down your weapons so we can all talk.” “Renjun. All right. We can talk… just prove to us it’s still you. First, show us where the witch is-” Renjun was growing more and more annoyed at his peers, “Are you listening to me? She’s not a witch! I won’t let you see her until you understand.” “D-do you hear that? He’s protecting her! He’s become her familiar! It’s too late for him. Kill him! Then we kill the witch!” Two men grabbed him, one on each side. Another readied his weapon. You ran towards them. “Renjun!” Faster than a human could, you reached him; you threw your arms around him; you felt the blade that was meant for him piece you through. Over the fire and pain in my body, I heard a kind voice say, “Your wounds may heal fast, but did they hurt when you got them?” “Y/n…?” You opened your eyes and there was Renjun. Then he stared, stunned at his hand, red with crimson blood. “Your hand… you’re not hurt… are you?” “No. Y-you’re hurt… you’re b-bleeding… Why? I told you to stay there!” “I couldn’t… let you face them… alone…” Renjun looked in horror as the blood kept spreading. Your wounds were not healing this time. Your body had already reached its limits. Renjun turned his attention to the townsfolk as he shouted angrily, “Do you see now? Do you see what you’ve done? LOOK AT HER! She’s not a witch! Would a witch sacrifice herself to protect a human? W-would a witch-...?! …Get out. All of you, get out! Go! And never hurt this poor woman again!” What magic Renjun had used, I did not know. But his tears… an angel’s tears, had doused their murderous rage. Distantly, so distantly now, I heard the crowd disperse. When I opened my eyes, only Renjun and Ricky remained. “M-my lady, I will fetch some water! Give me… Just a moment and soon you will be-...” “No, Ricky… It is already time. Besides, I wish for you to stay.”

“Madame… this is all my fault.” Renjun on the other hand was equally as distressed as Ricky was, maybe even a little bit more, “Why? Why couldn’t I protect you? After I swore to keep you safe, I couldn’t!” “My dearest Renjun… You have protected me from more than you can possibly know…” He looked ready to cry. And so I took his hand and guided it to my heart. “You saved my heart from my fear…” “Your heart?”

“Do you remember…telling me nothing separated us…? And when you defended me just now.” I heard the quiet approach of death like the fall of sand from an hourglass. “It was thanks to you. I was able to save the ones important to me…I couldn’t die happier.” “Y/n…”

Thank you, Renjun, for descending from heaven to give me peace before the end.

You could not see him anymore. But you could feel his hand. You squeezed it. “R-Renjun…?” “What is it Y/n?” You felt him lean in close.

“I was happy for the time we spent together… I loved watching you paint. P-please, will you paint more…? Will you show… everyone… your beautiful art..?” “Don’t go… Don’t go, Y/n…!” “I love you.” Those words softly escaped your lips as quick as your breath left.

“Y/n? Y/n, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me once more…” Moonlight seemed to emanate from your still features, until your body broke apart and dispersed into drifting ash. Only the memory of your smile was left now. Not the smile of a witch or human, but of an angel… — Though it felt as if life itself might stop for those who lost Y/n, time continued on. A few months after that night, Ricky carried a bouquet of sunflowers to lay on the grave memorializing Y/n. It was Renjun who had arranged for her ashes to be buried here. And today… “Sir Renjun, is that you?” “Hey Ricky. I had a strange feeling I might run into you here today.” “But of course. This is where my lady rests. And I swore to serve her faithfully until death. But what brings you here…?” “I’ve been painting another portrait. It’s just about finished. Would you like to see it?” Renjun set the portrait upon the easel. Ricky covered his mouth with his hands. But his eyes-he could not look away. For etched on the canvas was Y/n, smiling at him with her gentle smile. Renjun closed his eyes and recalled the words he’d shared with Y/n, not so long ago… “Renjun, may I ask you something? I was hoping you could promise me something. Once the full moon comes, the gate will open and you’ll be free to leave the mansion.” He realized then that she might have always known this was how it would end. “When that happens, I want you to paint as many portraits as possible. To capture as many smiles on your canvas as you can.”

Renjun turned to look at Ricky again, “I promised Y/n I’d paint portraits and make lots of people happy. And I will. But before I got started on that, well, there was one portrait I had to paint first. It’s the portrait of the person I wanted to bring a smile to the most.” “I believe madame must surely be watching you and smiling right now. Just like she is in your painting…” Renjun looked at her image and smiled back, tears in his eyes. The last thing to do was give it a title. “A promise to your smile.”

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bi-bard · 5 months

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Reckless - Tenth Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: Reckless

Pairing: Tenth Doctor X Reader | Rose Tyler X Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 6,274 words

Warning(s): canon-typical violence

Summary: [Christmas Special (2005)] The Doctor's regeneration has left him unconscious for the unforeseeable future. Now, with an invasion on the horizon, (Y/n) is pushed onto the frontlines on their own for the first time.

Author's Note: I did a poll to decide what episode I should write about next and this episode won. I hope I've made you guys proud. If you have a doctor/series/episode you want to see in the future, just let me know.

Y'all. I need you to trust me here. I know what I'm doing.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

---------------------

It was as if there was no pause between the burst of regeneration energy and the Doctor's attempt to fly the TARDIS.

As if nothing had happened at all.

But it was clear that something had. Something fundamentally had changed about him. Some wires were still waiting to be properly connected. I could see it. It was in how he was stumbling and frantically glancing between things on the console. He wasn't ready. Not yet.

"Doctor, move," I said, stepping toward the console.

"I- I'm just trying to land," he replied, still scrambling.

"I know, but you are fresh off of a regeneration, this is-" my sentence was cut off by the TARDIS jerking to the side harshly. "Doctor, get away from the console, now!"

He stopped as soon as I raised my voice at him.

I moved around him, flipping a few switches to try to undo some of the chaos he had caused. I wasn't doing a great job, but I had most of it under control. There was one more crash before the machine finally stopped moving.

I ran over to Rose, who had fallen during the earlier chaos. "You alright?"

"What... What's happened to him," she asked quietly. "What's this regeneration thing?"

I watched the Doctor go stumbling out through the doors. "I... I'll explain in a bit. As soon as I know that he's not going to do something stupid."

I ran outside, making it through the door just as the Doctor fainted. I glanced between Jackie and Mickey. They both stared at me in shock. I knelt down, checking that he was alright.

"What happened," I looked up to see Rose in the doorway. "Is he alright?"

"Should be," I replied.

"He just keeled over," Mickey added. "Who is he? Where's the Doctor?"

"That's him," Rose explained. "That's the Doctor."

"What do you mean, that's the Doctor?" Jackie said.

"I'll explain in a bit, but can we first get him inside, please," I pleaded.

It took a bit of work, but we managed to get the Doctor upstairs and into bed. I don't know how they did it, but they managed to get him into a pair of pajamas while I was searching around the apartment for something that could help.

"I... I don't wanna know," I muttered when I walked into the room and saw him. "Do you have anything I can use?"

"Like what," Rose asked.

"Stuff to check vitals. Anything will be better than nothing."

Jackie let out a gasp. "I've got something. Be back in a tick!"

I barely had a chance to blink before she went running out of the room. I sat down next to the Doctor, letting out a small sigh as I looked at him.

"Are you going to explain what's going on now?" Rose muttered, leaning on the doorframe.

"He regenerated," I said. "It's a normal process for Time Lords. The body senses that it's near death and finds a way to fix itself. Losing consciousness like this isn't entirely normal. It happens sometimes. Usually, it means the whole process wasn't complete during the initial regeneration. His cells are still burning and regrowing. They're settling."

"But he'll be alright?" she replied.

"I hope so," I mumbled.

Jackie ran back in a few moments later, rambling about some neighbor of hers. She handed me a stethoscope. I placed the ends in my ears before pressing the flat piece to his torso, moving to check both hearts.

"I still think we should take him to a hospital," Jackie noted.

"We can't," Rose argued before I could. "They'd lock him up. Dissect him. One bottle of his blood could change the course of the human race."

"But-"

"You would trust human doctors with no experience of this situation while I am here and the only being alive that shares his anatomical makeup," I asked.

"I didn't-"

I shushed her, going back to listening to the Doctor's hearts. "Good. Both working fine. We'll just have to wait."

"Both?" Jackie replied.

"They've got two hearts," Rose explained. "Each."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Anything else you lot have two of?"

"Ew," I murmured. "Come on. We need to let him rest. Finish the process."

Rose sighed, pausing a moment. "Could make tea?"

I chuckled. "Is that just a natural human response? Making tea when things are going wrong?"

"Mostly just the English," Jackie shrugged.

I nodded. "I see..."

I followed the two of them out of the room. As soon as they made it to the kitchen, Jackie seemed to be berating Rose with questions when she should have been asking me. Rose didn't know anything about this. She was already dealing with so many emotions. It wasn't fair.

"Stop it," I said firmly. "If you have questions, ask me. Don't torment her."

Jackie huffed. "I just want some answers."

"Rose isn't gonna have them," I replied. I looked at Rose, who looked back at me with tears in her eyes. "Hey..."

"I thought I knew him," she muttered. "I thought me and him were..."

The way her voice trailed off broke my hearts. I took a breath before speaking, "He may have changed, but his memories didn't. Who he cares for, what he believes in... they're built on more than his physical form. Those kinds of things are built on experiences. His favorite food might change, but not something as deep as his thoughts and feelings about you or me or anyone. He'll most likely still see you in the same way he did."

I was caught off guard by her hugging me tightly. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around her, closing my eyes as she hid her face in my shoulder. There was a long silence as we sat in that hug.

She leaned back, wiping her eyes. She looked at her mother. "The big question is... where'd you get a pair of men's pajamas from?"

"Howard's been staying over," Jackie replied, turning back to the counter.

"What, Howard from the market?"

I chuckled a bit as I turned around. I had never known a race to spend as much time gossiping as humanity. In some strange way, I admired it.

I glanced at the TV in the main room. "Is that Harriet Jones?"

Rose followed me out of the kitchen when she heard me speak up. "Why is she on the telly?"

"She's Prime Minister now," Jackie explained. "I'm 18 quid a week better off."

"Britain's Golden Age," I said quietly. "This is it."

"That's what they've been calling it," Jackie shrugged. "I keep on saying my Rose has met her."

"Did more than that," Rose replied. "Stopped World War III with her."

I furrowed my eyebrows as the report carried on. "Space probe... humans... always reaching for more."

"I thought you'd be a fan of exploration."

"As long as it doesn't draw in any unwanted attention."

Rose and Mickey left later that evening. Something about Christmas shopping.

I split my time between checking on the Doctor and awkwardly trying to help Jackie while she rambled on the phone to a friend.

It all felt... slow. Time was something that I was used to being able to somewhat ignore. It wasn't an important factor to me. I could bend it to be as fast or slow as I wanted, but now... all I could do was wait. Sit and wait.

It was infuriating.

It was a little while later that Rose and Mickey barged in, yelling at Jackie to get off the phone. I furrowed my eyebrows at them.

"What's going on," I asked.

"It's not safe. Someone- something is after the Doctor," Rose explained quickly. "We've got to get out. Where can we go?"

"My mate Stan. He'll put us up," Mickey suggested.

"That's only two streets away" Rose replied. "What about Mo? Where's she living now?"

"I don't know, Peak District," Jackie answered.

"We'll go to cousin Mo's then," Rose replied.

"It's Christmas Eve, we're not going anywhere!" Jackie exclaimed. "What are you babbling on about?"

"Where'd you get that tree," Rose asked. "That's a new tree. Where'd you get it?"

"I thought it was you," Jackie said.

"You accepted a new tree when you didn't know who sent it?" I chimed in. She paused for a moment. "Get the Doctor to the TARDIS and we can go anywhere in time and space. Escaping to a different planet will be better than a different... district or whatever."

The lights started turning on. And then, the branches started spinning.

"Go, now!" I shoved them all out of the main room.

Rose sprinted into the Doctor's room. I followed her, shoving Mickey and Jackie in with me. The two of them shoved a dresser in front of the door while I started rummaging through the pocket of his leather jacket.

I let out a relieved breath when I found the sonic screwdriver.

It was perfect timing.

The robotic tree had broken through the door. The others had quickly backed away from the door.

I picked up my arm and pressed the button on the screwdriver. I shielded my face as the tree blew up.

"You guys alright," I said, scrambling to the other three.

They all nodded, each clearly still in shock about the entire event. I made it to the Doctor, checking his pulse to make sure that he wasn't somehow hurt during the whole event. He seemed fine... and then I saw a puff of regeneration energy escape from him.

"No," I muttered to myself. "No, no, no!"

"What is it," Rose asked.

I ran outside, stopping at the railing when I saw a collection of Santa-looking robots standing on the ground below us. Rose was right behind me, along with the other two.

"What are they?" she whispered to me.

I shushed her quietly before lifting my hand, pointing the sonic screwdriver at them. They seemed to recognize the situation they were in. They moved closer to each other and teleported away. Presumably back to their ship.

"They've just gone," Mickey said. "What kind of rubbish were they?"

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, no offense, but they're not much cop if a sonic screwdriver scares them off."

"They're pilot fish," I replied. "They're being controlled by something else... someone else. Like the tree. Toy soldiers, robots."

"And that gold dust we saw?" Rose pushed.

"Regeneration energy," I explained. "I... I didn't think he was releasing it and now that I didn't see it, I don't know how long or how much he's expelled. Time Lords are powerful and there are creatures who know that."

"They can find him?"

"Pilot fish were what attacked you earlier, weren't they?"

She nodded.

"That's why. They found out where the energy was and knew that they needed to destroy his 'guardians' to get to him. Either use him or kill him or... just experiment on him. We walked away from something that we weren't meant to survive. There are a few species with a few questions."

"What do we do?"

"Nothing. You lot go inside. Protect yourselves. Watch telly, have tea, do whatever it is humans do in a crisis that they can't fix."

"What about you," Rose asked, going to grab my arm.

"I'm going to the TARDIS," I explained. "If there are pilot fish here, then there's something coming. Something strong. I need to figure out what it is."

"You're just gonna go running off?"

"If I need to, yeah."

"I'm not gonna let you do that!"

"It's not your choice!"

"And why is that?"

"Because I am not going to be the one to get you killed!"

She froze.

"Go inside. Take care of the Doctor. Let me handle this."

I turned and walked away before she could say anything else.

I made it to the TARDIS. I scrambled around the console. I found faint traces of the regeneration energy. Along with it was the signal from the new space probe that had been sent up earlier that night. I furrowed my eyebrows. That couldn't be right.

I watched the signal's trajectory. It had been lost at some point. It was around the same place that the regeneration energy seemed to disperse.

"Who is up there..."

I flicked a switch, tuning into the news about the space probe. I saw the head of the mission scrambling, trying to explain away the loss of contact.

"You are terrible at de-escalating," I muttered.

It was then that the signal was interrupted. Through the static came an image of four creatures. I leaned in a little bit closer. The creature suddenly growled at the screen and then the image was gone.

"Well... shit," I murmured, frantically reaching for a few more buttons.

It was a matter of minutes before Rose stormed through the door. "Did you see that?"

"Yes," I answered. "How's the Doctor?"

"Pale, sick."

"Oh...," I mumbled. "It's okay. He'll be okay."

Rose looked down for a moment. "What... What was that thing?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I didn't get a clear enough image. But... I know something. I was tracking the trace of regeneration energy that the Doctor has been emitting and it is going to the same place as the probe's signal is coming from."

"So... mars?"

"No," I shook my head. "The probe never made it that far. It's 5,000 miles above it. It's a spaceship. The probe is onboard and they're tracking the energy, coming this way. That puts the entire planet at risk."

"Can't we go stop them before they get here?"

"No. If they're looking for a Time Lord, then handing them a piece of Time Lord technology would be reckless at best."

"But if they get to the Doctor-"

"I won't let that happen!"

"Are you sure? Because you don't seem to be doing much to stop them!"

"Rose, they will kill you. They will kill me. They will kill the Doctor. We don't know what they want, so I'd like to not hand them one of the most sophisticated pieces of space and time travel equipment to ever exist!"

She huffed and turned around, going to storm out.

I closed my eyes and dug the heels of my palms against them.

I was just trying to protect her... protect everyone. I just... I didn't know how to do that on my own. I had become so accustomed to having someone to bounce my ideas off of. I was lost. Stuck. I didn't know what to do yet.

I had spent ages continuing to try to get some kind of answer when the screen turned to static again.

Those four aliens were there again. One of them started speaking again, but the TARDIS wasn't translating.

"Hey, hey," I said quietly. "I know that I'm not him, but I'm still Gallifreyan. I can still fly you. You can still work with me."

The video replayed. This time, the voices were translated. "People, you belong to us. To the Sycorax. We own you. We now possess your land, your minerals, your precious stones. You will surrender or they will die. Sycorax strong, Sycorax mighty, Sycorax rock!"

"'They'," I repeated the word to myself. "Who are you talking about?"

I tried to search for any sign of who they could be talking about.

It was hours before another message came through. One of the Sycorax stuck their hand out. A blue light emitted from it. The image disappeared after that.

"Nice to know that humanity wasn't slow to do something stupid," I muttered to myself. It was a harsh assumption, but it was a valid one.

I ran outside only to be met with a crowd of people walking by me. I furrowed my eyebrows as the blue light shined around their heads. I saw Rose up on the landing outside her door. We shared the same look with each other.

I followed her and Mickey to the roof of the building.

There was an entire fraction of the population standing on the edge. Each seemingly ready to jump. I stepped back, running my hands over my face.

"What is it? What's going on?" Rose said, grabbing my arm.

"I... I don't know," I mumbled. "It... I have an idea but... it can't be. I want to believe that the top minds in your country are not stupid enough to do something that would allow it."

"What is it?"

"Mickey, can you still get access to the military's files?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course, I can."

"I need you to get any information you can on that probe. Now. I can't work on it on my own."

"He left us," Rose muttered. "This is the time when we need him the most and he left us. He left... He left me."

"Rose, look at me," I grabbed her hands. "I have known the Doctor maybe as long as you have. I know one thing though... he is never going to abandon you. I promise."

"How do you know that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Mickey chimed in before the conversation could continue, "Come on!"

We ran back down the stairs to the ground level. As soon as we had made it outside, I turned to Mickey, "Go get your computer and then come straight back here. We'll work in the TARDIS. Rose, you're gonna go up and watch the Doctor. If something happens, then you call-"

My instructions were cut off by a loud boom. Any glass nearby had broken, shattering all over the ground near us. I covered my head and squatted down to cover myself, yelling for the others to get down as well.

"What the hell-"

"A spaceship just entered your atmosphere," I said as I scrambled to stand up. "Sonic wave."

"What do we do," Rose asked.

I looked up as the spaceship flew overhead. It stopped just above us. "Get the Doctor to the TARDIS. Now. It's the safest place for him now. I'm sorry that we didn't do it sooner, but we need to move."

I watched as the trio scrambled to get the Doctor and Jackie's supplies into the TARDIS. She ran out to get the rest of the food, even though I yelled at her not to go.

"What now?" Rose said.

"I... I'm not sure," I replied. "I'm... I'm not usually the only one coming up with ideas at this point."

"But you're clever. I've seen you; you are clever. You... You were said you were trained for wartime."

"A war. I was trained for a war on one planet with different conditions and tools and-"

"And they never taught you to adapt? To do... I don't know... peace talks and things?"

I paused for a moment. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

I leaned forward and flicked a switch.

"What was that?"

"I let out a signal. There's no way the TARDIS would be able to land on the ship, but I could get them to teleport the TARDIS onto the ship."

"You're gonna talk to them."

I nodded. "I'm gonna try... see if that theory of mine was correct."

I took a deep breath, going to walk toward the doors. I rolled my shoulders back and tilted my chin up a bit. I pulled the door open, letting out a sigh of relief when I found myself on the spaceship.

Harriet Jones was standing there with her assistant.

"Harriet Jones," I said, a grin forming. "You are a sight for sore eyes."

"I could say the same to you," she muttered, hugging me. "Is the Doctor with you?"

"Not exactly," I replied as I stepped back. "But if you trust me, I can handle this."

I stepped ahead of the group, facing the Sycorax leader as bravely as I could.

"You. You have the clever box," the presumed leader spoke up.

Harriet's assistant tried to translate for me, but I stopped him. "I can understand him."

"How," Rose asked.

"TARDIS has a stronger psychic connection with the Doctor but I am still the same species as him. I may not be able to expand its reach like he seemingly can, but I don't need him to be able to use the translation."

"Silence!" the Sycorax shouted.

"Alright," I muttered.

"You speak for this planet!"

"Yes."

"You will understand my wishes."

"Surrender, correct?" I replied. "Basic signs of obedience in your eyes. Harriet, what did he ask for? Some of the population?"

"Half," she answered.

"Half to be used for their own benefit," I turned back to the Sycorax. "Half to be used as slaves in exchange for letting a third live."

"Correct," the Sycorax said.

"Why Earth?"

There was a silence.

"There are millions of planets that are far more advanced. That," I pointed at the TARDIS, "isn't human technology. There are other planets more beneficial to you, if you're looking for resources. And many are ready for the taking. These people are barely scratching the surface of space exploration and you're exploiting it. There's a whole planet renowned for being quick to surrender, why not go there?"

"We want the Earth," the leader said.

"But why," I pushed. "Why can't you just leave these people alone?"

He didn't respond.

"And then there's the third of the population," I continued, going to step around him. "I have a theory of course, but... oooooh, great."

I ran up the steps.

"Look at that! A big red button! Control matrix. Tell me, if I look under here, will I find a little bowl of blood?"

"Step away from that!"

"Alright," I held my hands up before leaning down, going to open the center console.

"That was English," Rose said.

"Well, yes, Rose, I speak English," I replied, still looking at the control matrix. I dipped my finger into the small bowl. "A+!"

"No, the Sycorax spoke English. I understood him," Rose explained.

I stood up, turning to look at her. "What?"

"He... He told you to step away from the controls, right? I understood him!"

"That means the TARDIS is translating for you again," I took a few steps closer.

The TARDIS doors behind them creaked open, revealing the Doctor in his pajamas and a robe.

"Took your sweet time, didn't you?" I crossed my arms.

"Could say the same to you," he shrugged as he stepped out.

The Sycorax tried to attack him, but it didn't work out well. Instead, the Doctor grabbed the weapons that the creature had and simply tossed them away. Being fresh off regeneration energy either made him stronger or dumber, I wasn't certain which one yet.

"Now, give me a moment. I am busy," he said to the leader before turning to the group of four that was now behind him. "Mickey! Hello!"

That was the happiest he had ever been to see Mickey.

"And Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North. Blimey, it's like This is Your Life."

"Harriet Jones, Prime Minister," I corrected.

"I see," he grinned. "Tea! That's all I needed. A good cup of tea."

I almost chuckled at the idea.

If there was one thing about the Doctor that didn't change at all, it was his ability to talk. He ranted and rambled and jumped between different tones of voice. He talked about little he knew about himself now. He was a clean slate with nothing known yet.

I had regenerated before, but I had never thought about the process before. Truly, I never had the time. I was kind of thrown from one thing to the other. Getting confused after regenerating never made it onto my schedule.

"Doctor," I called from the steps.

"Yeah?" he turned to me. "Oh, I interrupted you. Go on. Bet you were doing brilliantly."

"Oh, you didn't interrupt at all," I shook my head. "It's just that, well, if I were to find a big red button, then I would know better than to press it. However, a Time Lord fresh off a regeneration may not be so rational... considering he's figuring himself out and everything."

"You're right," he replied. "Does the very rational one happen to know what the button does?"

"It's operating a blood control system."

"No!" he exclaimed excitedly, running over to me. "I haven't seen blood control in years."

"I've only read about it. Similar to hypnosis, yeah?"

"Exactly," he nodded. "When'd you work that out?"

"It was a running theory when I saw everyone on the roof. If they could control any chunk of the population, then why would they not make it half alive for a half enslaved? Why only a third?"

"Oh, you are so clever."

"I know," I shrugged. "So... what do you think?"

"Well, here's the danger with a freshly regenerated Time Lord," the Doctor looked at the Sycorax. "I truly don't know who I am. So... if I see a great big threatening button which should never, ever, ever be pressed, then I just wanna do this."

The Doctor slammed his hand down on the button.

I heard the others yelling at him.

"You killed them!" Harriet's assistant said.

I turned to the leader of the Sycorax. "Are they dead?"

"We allow them to live," he grumbled.

"Oh, please," I rolled my eyes. "He couldn't kill them. He had no choice. When I said blood control was like hypnosis, I was being honest. You can't hypnotize someone into doing something that they'd never do such as kill themselves. Humans operate on an evolutionary basis that forces them to protect their genes, so the fight-or-flight system kicks in."

"Everyone's okay," Rose asked.

"Everyone's okay," I nodded.

"Blood control was one form of conquest," the leader spoke up. "I can summon the armada and take this planet by force."

"Which brings me to my question again, why? Can't you just leave them alone?"

"Or what?"

"Or... I'll stop you."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

I looked at one of the soldiers next to me before rushing over and grabbing the sword on his waist.

I stepped back, getting away from the crowd.

I poised the sword out toward the leader. "I challenge you."

"(Y/n)," the Doctor scolded. The Sycorax laughed loudly as he stormed over to me. "This is incredibly stupid. Reckless."

"No, it's not," I replied. "This is what I was trained for. I existed before you met me, Doctor. You need to remember that."

He stepped away from me slowly.

"You're just gonna let (Y/n) do this?" I heard Rose mutter.

"I can't stop them," the Doctor replied.

I looked at the leader of the Sycorax again.

"Am I right that the sanctified rules of combat still apply," I asked.

The leader unsheathed a sword of his own. "You stand as this world's champion?"

"Proudly. Do you accept my challenge?"

The crowd roared around us.

We both took a knee, swords next to us.

"For the planet?" the leader tilted his head slightly as he spoke. He was taunting me.

"For the planet," I confirmed.

We stood up.

I could barely remember who actually took the first swing.

I was beginning to realize that I hadn't been in a fight so similar to what I had originally been training for.

I could just remember the technology, the instructions, the fake wounds. It was as if with every swing, my blood started boiling more and more. I hadn't felt like this in a long time.

I could remember the days when I felt that every day.

Fake Daleks, fake Cybermen, fake monsters, fake gods. I could see them all so vividly. In between the visions were the familiar flipping of pages and frantic searching and reading. The tests and quizzes and practices.

Oh, I was furious. It was making me sloppy.

I ran onto the outside platform of the ship as I found myself getting angrier and angrier.

I needed to be able to focus on one target. I needed to bring myself back to the current moment. To recognize that this was not fake. That this was not every evil being that I had been forced to face, but was one being. One thing that wanted to have more power than he deserved.

I also needed to get out of the crowd as soon as I could. That crowd could turn on me the moment I won. My victory could last a matter of moments before they turned on me entirely.

I learned how much the leader of the Sycorax valued straightforward aggression. He wanted the anger. The yelling and wild thrashing that seemed more calculated than they were.

I had learned long ago how to adapt to someone like that.

This means that despite any scratches and bruises, I was more in control than he thought.

So, when I squatted down and swung my leg so I could knock him off his feet, he was the only one surprised.

I stood above him, only leaning down to throw his sword as far away as I could. I pressed the tip of my blade to his throat. His head was hanging off the platform. I could have turned him into an example for the entire human race and Sycorax alike.

"I win," I said.

"Then, kill me," the leader's words were hoarse.

"I was raised as a weapon," I explained. "I was created to fight. To stop any threat that could have come my way. But mercy... I had to learn that. And it took me so long to perfect."

I pushed a little harder.

"So do not take it for granted when I offer it to you now," I warned. "I will spare your life as long as you listen to this command. Leave this planet and never return. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Swear on the blood of your species."

"I swear."

"Good."

I stepped back, pulling the blade away from the leader's neck.

I turned around to see the Doctor walking over to me already. I let him pull me into a tight hug, making sure to keep the blade away from either of our bodies.

Rose ran out just behind him. I smiled widely as I went to hug her.

"I told you that you could do this," she muttered to me. "I told you that you were clever."

"Thank you," I mumbled back.

She stepped back.

"We should go. Now."

The Doctor smiled for a moment. "Sounds like- (Y/n), look out-"

I turned around. The leader came running at me, shouting as he went to attack me. I slammed my blade through his torso. I pulled the blade up and twisted it slightly.

"I warned you," I murmured to him before shoving him down. I dragged the blade out of him. "I... I tried to warn you."

"Hey," Rose touched my back. "Come on. It's done. It's over."

"No. Not yet."

I stormed into the main hall, staring up at the collection of Sycorax. I slammed the sword into the ground.

"I am this planet's champion, and you will heed my command. You are to leave this planet and never return for the rest of time. And I would advise you to take this battle as a warning. A warning that you will spread among the stars. As you speak of Earth and its people and all that it could offer, ensure that you tell them all that this planet is- and always will be- protected."

The Sycorax's teleport sent us all back to the surface after that.

I watched in silence as the ship began to fly away. I let out a shaky breath as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"(Y/n)," I turned to the Doctor.

"I killed someone," I murmured. "Directly, I mean. I... I wasn't just there. It wasn't some misguided attempt to save him. I killed him-"

He shushed me as he pulled me into a hug. "I want you to listen."

I closed my eyes, listening to the rumbling of the above spaceship. The sound of Rose and Mickey cheering cut through. Sharp and deafening in the best way. I heard Jackie's voice join them. Thankful and caring and proud.

"I hear hope... joy. I hear the cheers of the very people you just saved. Now, imagine that sound echoing all over the world. All of them. Safe because of you."

He stepped back, holding my upper arms.

"I'd say that's an alright balance, wouldn't you?"

I felt my lips tugging up as I thought about it. Yeah, maybe-

Any hope I had was shattered with the sound of an explosion. It silenced any cheering. Any joy. It was loud, violent, terrifying.

I looked over at Harriet. She stood there with a sullen expression painted on her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you," I asked. "They were leaving!"

"You said it yourself," she replied. "They go out and tell the rest of the universe about us. What happens when you and the Doctor aren't here? When another race decides that they want Earth?"

"You think that you're so important that it justifies murder-"

"Yours was?"

"I never wanted to do that! I wanted to show mercy! I wanted them to have the chance to make the right choice! Do not use me as an example to justify your monstrous behavior!"

She had no response to that.

"I shouldn't have just said to leave. I should have told them to run. Run as fast as you can because here comes humanity, the true monsters! The species ready to destroy anything different than themselves!"

I was almost screeching by the end of it. I felt the Doctor move his arm in front of me. I must have moved forward without thinking much of it.

I stepped away, turning to the others. Rose hugged me, muttering how sorry she was.

"I should have stopped you," the Doctor said.

"What does that make you, Doctor? Both of you? Another alien threat?"

"Don't challenge me, Harriet Jones, 'cause I'm a completely new man," he pushed. I stepped away from Rose, turning back to Harriet. "I could bring down your government with a single word."

"You're the most remarkable man I've ever met, but even you aren't capable of that."

"No, you're right," the Doctor replied. "Not a single word. Just six."

"I don't think so."

"Six words."

"Stop it!"

"Six."

He stepped around her. He walked to her assistant, muttering something into his ear. He came back to us.

"You go back with these three. I'll meet you there," he explained to me. I furrowed my eyebrows. "I can't very well keep walking around in pajamas and a robe."

"Fair," I chuckled. "See you in a bit."

"You too."

I followed Rose, Mickey, and Jackie back to the apartment.

They forced me to go sit down while they got dinner together, only letting me join them when the table was set.

"I could've helped," I said when I sat down.

"Well, we couldn't let the planet's champion make their own meal," Mickey replied. "Now, eat."

I chuckled and shook my head.

The door opened a few moments later. I turned to look at the Doctor. He was wearing a suit now. Dark brown with a light button-up and a tie. He had a long trench coat on now. He grinned at us before coming to sit at the end of the table.

I found myself faced with Rose holding out some roll of something. It was wrapped in green foil with gold and red details. I furrowed my eyebrows at it.

"Grab that end," Rose instructed. "It's a Christmas cracker. This is a very human thing. Like the tea."

I was hesitant but listened to her anyway.

"On three, pull toward you," she continued. "1... 2... 3!"

I tugged the roll toward myself. I flinched a bit as it popped. I found myself with most of the roll in my hand. I moved it, looking inside.

I found a crown made of tissue paper. It was yellow. Bright yellow.

"Put it on!" Rose pushed.

"Okay, okay," I replied. I placed the crown on my head, struggling to get it to stay in place. The Doctor reached over and fixed it for me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he muttered.

Rose pointed at the TV. "It's Harriet Jones."

She was rambling, trying to defend staying in office. I looked at the Doctor. He gave me a look that simply said 'don't ask'. I turned back to the screen.

That was until Jackie pushed us all outside.

I almost froze in the door at the sight of what seemed to be snow. It was as I stepped on it that I realized that it wasn't. It was ash. Leftover ash from the spaceship still burning up.

I closed my eyes for a moment before looking around me. I saw people. Couples and kids and whole families running around in it. They were laughing. Cheering. Spinning and celebrating.

There it was again.

That sense of hope.

That very small shred of it that made me feel like I needed to hold onto it as tightly as I could.

"(Y/n)," I turned to the Doctor. He was standing next to Rose, holding hands with her as they both looked at me. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Absolutely."

He grinned before going to open the door.

I let out a small sigh as I followed them both inside.

One shred.

That was all I needed.

Or... all that I was going to have... for now.

If I wanted more, I had to go find it.

And yeah, I was absolutely ready to do that.

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Author's Note: I would like to take a moment to thank everyone for reading and accepting this OC. I know I play around with canon and I promise it is only going to become more evident as we go on. I have this OC planned out through Flux, just to give you an idea of how committed I am to this OC and their story. They have been through many of iterations before this one and I am so happy that this is the version that resonated with people. Thank you for your time and care. I promise that it is recognized and appreciated. I'll see you all soon!

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lapis-lights · 1 year

Text

Car Lights [Part 2]

[Leon Kennedy x DSO Archivist!Reader]

Song Title: Car Lights by James Marriott

Content Warnings: Light NSFW in this part (18+ only), Female Reader, Slow Burn, Friends With Tension, Arguments, Angst, Pining, Gun Violence, Experiments, Near Death Experience, Alcohol Use, Smoking, Blood, Fluff, Happy Ending

Word Count: 13.2k out of 30.3k

Author's Notes: Part two! What did you guys think of the Capcom spotlight yesterday? I'm very excited!!!! Anyways, hope you guys like this part. I'm working on my next write so ye :D

Part 1 here

Summary: As Leon pinpoints your location and devises a plan to rescue you, you're enlightened to some grave news. Your humanity's time is a ticking clock, and there's no telling what may happen. The possibility that you may never get to tell Leon your feelings weighs precariously on your heart, though it seems that this is the end of the line for you.

As far as endings go, in your opinion, this one couldn't have gone worse.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

"You can hold my hand in a crowded place, but just hold me close and hope that they don't see my face..."

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Voices ring around you like a distant dream.

They fade in and out of your ears, floating delicately around your head as if determining whether or not they really wanted to be real. Your sight is dark, but you try reaching a hand out to follow the sound of people. You find it’s incredibly difficult to move at all–in fact, you can’t.

It’s alarming with the limited mobility, but it’s something you’ll have to try and work with.

You strain to zero in on the voices, trying to make out the words and get a clue as to what was exactly happening. However, it’s difficult seeing as every syllable is muffled to the point that you can’t decipher what they say, and it’s frustrating that so many of your senses are limited.

Was this a dream or were you strung in some sort of limbo in the real world? It’s hard to tell.

What happened? What led up to this moment?

You think hard about it, remembering that you’d woken up before the sun as usual, went to the office, and got a coffee before slipping quietly into the office with Ingrid. Ignoring her looks of sympathy, you’d immediately gotten to work trying not to think about a certain DSO agent who had your emotions in the palm of his hand. At the end of the day when the reports finally slowed down and you had pushed your body to its limit, you went home.

You wrote in your journal, tears drying on your cheeks as you admit your undying love for Leon for the thousandth time.

That thought makes you pause.

You really do love him, don’t you? Or was it something else?

Where did the line draw itself between love and obsession? Were you just happy that someone you admired for so long finally noticed you back or did you genuinely like what you saw in Leon?

Leon…

His harsh words had struck a chord in your heart, but for some reason, you still can’t help but be hopelessly drawn to him. You think that if the world was ending, you might still follow him to the ends of the earth. You’d stare into those azure eyes that provided a window to his soul and agree to go with him wherever he wanted to take you. That was what trust was, at least, but what did it entail?

Silently, in your mind, you apologize to Leon.

Silently, you say goodbye.

And you wake up.

The first thing you notice is the texture of the walls, carved out roughly like it was a rock wall and you notice that it's damp, wet stone beneath your palms and the air pumping with humidity. The space you had been lying in was cramped, barely giving you enough height to stand up and wide enough just to fit your form into it. Rusted iron bars keep you trapped with torches providing dim lighting.

Where were you?

A sense of dread hangs over your shoulders and an uneasy churning begins stirring in your stomach. The more important question to ask was if anybody in the world knew where you were at. The possibility of the answer being no only made you silently panic even more.

"Ah, so she finally awakes!"

The sudden voice causes you to scramble back as far as you can get, which isn't much to be honest. You focus in on the figure who steps into the light, gray skin and unnatural eye color coming into view. It looks like a human man enough, but something about it doesn't seem right, though the scene is all too familiar in the wrong ways.

"Who are you?" Your throat is incredibly dried out and attempting to speak only draws attention to your thirst. Your limbs feel weak, your body exhausted, but from what, you can't tell.

"You should know more than anybody, no?" The stranger smiles and it's all rotting teeth. "After all, you've read the reports. You know the stories. But I supposed you could call me…Lucifer. How about that?"

“Very creative,” you say, unimpressed. “I’m sure Satan is down in Hell shuddering right now. What about you should I know? As far as I know, we’ve never met.”

“Never directly, no,” Lucifer tilts his head. “Think about it.”

It takes a moment of staring before it clicks in your mind. The appearance of a human, but truly nothing more than an overly animated corpse. The rotting, the gray skin. Eyes that were unnaturally yellow in a way nobody's could be unless you were…

"You're a member of Los Illuminados."

"Very quick witted! I'm impressed," he says giddily. "Though, I should expect nothing short of the archivist for the DSO, should I?"

Something isn't right. It isn't adding up. "How do you know who I am?"

"We have some time, I suppose," he muses, checking a watch that isn't there. "You're not going anywhere anytime soon, after all."

You don't answer him on that, but you get up and cross your arms close to your chest. Still, doubt hangs on your mind, untrusting of this guy. Almost all the members of Los Illuminados were wiped out when Leon saved Ashley from them, but only a sparse set of them survived. You didn't expect that they were still in operation, and less so targeting anybody DSO.

"We had the right idea with Ashley Graham," he begins, pacing across the span of your prison so you can keep an eye on him from the other side of the bars. "But, of course, our plans were rather rudely disrupted by an unwelcome guest...You know him well, don't you?"

Your glare at him.

"Right," Lucifer chuckles as if this were all some joke. "We still intend to implant a mole in the DSO to pass us the information we need. Thankfully, you'll be happy to know that we developed a new branch of Las Plagas, and what better subject to test it on than the most informed member we could think of?"

You purse your lips tightly, finally understanding. "You intend to infect me. I'm supposed to be the mole."

A statement, not a question.

"Close, you're very close." He finally stops his steps, coming closer and wrapping his hands around the bars, leaning forward so that his face is pressed against the spaces in between the rusted metal. "Your humanity is slipping as we speak, for we already implanted the parasite."

Horror.

Terror wracks your body as his words ring in your ears and your body suddenly gives in so violently, you have to sit down and tuck yourself into the corner of your cell. For some reason, it just doesn't process. "So I'm just ticking down to becoming some mindless flesh bag for your use."

"Not at all," he seems delighted by your response. "I know you're a rather intelligent young woman. Beautiful too. I'm honored that you'll be under my control when the Plagas takes hold of your body, and I'll be sure to let you have your conscience when I'm all done playing with you."

You want to vomit at his feet just to prove a point. "Bold assumption."

"It's not an assumption, my dear," Lucifer smiles wickedly. "It's only a matter of time."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"You wound me with your words," he backs away from the bars, sending you a smile that makes your skin crawl. "But, I'd seriously consider your plans. You could be powerful, you know. This strain of Las Plagas has abilities that go beyond your wildest imaginations."

That's exactly what you're afraid of. "I'll pass."

"A shame," he simpers, shaking his head. "Humanity was a good look for you."

You close your eyes and lean against the wall as the member's footsteps retreat and a door slams somewhere, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It seems that this is the end of the road.

In the middle of nowhere, you don't have any form of communication with the agency and definitely no way to contact anybody. It's just been revealed your time is limited since Los Illuminados already infected you with the Plagas, presumably the strain that DSO had centered the meeting around. If that's true, it's likely that you only had a day or so, depending on how long it took for the Plagas to hatch and attach itself to your nerves.

When Leon was in Spain, he was able to stay conscious enough to locate an extraction device, which judging by his report of the incident, targeted the Plagas inside of his body by some form of radiation that killed off the parasite. You sincerely doubt there's something like that around here, and moreover, you doubt you have the ability to sneak out and find it without a problem.

You know basic defense. You know simple hand-to-hand strategies and you know how to use a gun, but that wasn't enough.

It's hard not to cry, but you try to think rationally about what might happen. Your conscience might stay, but your will won't be your own. You'll become a weapon for these people, and you won't have a choice in the matter. You'll have to watch the bloodshed be on your hands as you kill without hesitation.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you finally admit it.

The next time you meet Leon, it's very very likely you won't even be yourself at all.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Nothing but the engine could be heard in Leon's ears, but his thoughts are just as equally, if not more, loud.

He'd been on edge ever since the search in your apartment, and only a few mere hours later, the agency had pinned down your potential location. The abandoned lab, which the squad had been due to anyway, was the prime suspect since that's where they were most likely keeping the new Plagas infection, and by extension, you.

There was hardly any time to pack. There was barely any need to.

The objective was clear as day–recover you and destroy the lab upon leaving.

While the government clearly only cared about your return because of the information you have on them regarding their activity, Leon cared about your safety and whether you would be alive or not. He needs to see you with his own eyes, hoping that you weren’t just another life added to the endless list of the dead.

A hand drifts up and his fingers lightly brush over his lips.

He needs to bring you home.

It only took two more hours before Leon was gearing up, loading all of his guns with ammo and making sure his knife was sharp enough to slice through any dangers he might encounter. The rest of the soldiers accompanying him were performing similar tasks, readying themselves for the fight ahead.

One of them glances at Leon and he can feel the weight of their gaze.

“Hey, man.” He sounds incredibly awkward. “We’ll save her, okay? Then we can go back and you guys can finally get together like everybody in the agency has been waiting for you to.”

Leon stops, staring at the soldier. “What?”

“Nobody’s blind.” The guy’s eyes crinkle with a small smile. “We can all tell that you’d give her the world if she asked for it, yeah?”

He would. He just didn’t expect it to be that obvious.

Wordlessly, Leon nodded and resumed his work, organizing his thoughts and taking deep breaths in and out. He can’t screw this up for a second. He may be DSO’s best agent, but he’s also just a man who’s susceptible to emotion just as much as anybody else when it comes to you in particular.

The comm comes on overhead notifying the agents that the plane was landing near the site. It was only a simple trek to the lab from there.

“Alright, listen up,” Leon says and all the men sit to attention. He looks at them one by one while speaking. “We all know our goal–DSO’s archivist has been kidnapped for information and our top priority is to find and secure her safely back to the rendezvous point. Our second goal is searching for any research regarding the Plagas virus, which means that there’s every possibility that the undead are gonna be roaming around here. Aim for the head. Shoot their legs if you need time. Remember the procedure if one of you gets infected, and do not hesitate. The third goal is to plant the explosives so we can blow this place apart when we're done. One of our own is in that lab right now waiting for us. Are we clear?”

A chorus of, “Yes sir!” goes around.

Leon nods and feels the plane dip lower and lower. He quiets his nerves as the ground comes into view and everybody prepares to move out. You’re so close now, he can almost feel your presence looming in the distance, watching and waiting.

The moment his shoes hit the dirt, his mind flies into business mode. All of the stress bleeds away and all that’s left is the familiar thoughts of analytic strategizing.

“Straits and Levy, lead into the left wing. Santos, Novak, go right. Hudson and Reed, center field. The rest of you divide up evenly. I’m going down into the basement. I’ll call for backup if I’m having complications, and you all do the same. Understood?”

Affirmations ring through Leon’s earpiece and he pushes forward.

The lab is overgrown. Covered in ivy and rusted to the point that the walls themselves looked like they were peeling. It didn’t take long to locate an entrance and break it open. Leon simply shot the lock and the door swung inward.

A Ganado flees from within as if just waiting to be freed. It hisses, spits saliva, and shouts profanities at the sight of the DSO agents. Some of the rookies shout in alarm before Leon shoots it down easily with a few handgun bullets. He motions the others to follow him inside, and some share quiet words as they step over the limp body and head inside.

Flashlights on their guns provide just enough light to illuminate the dark space. As the others split up into the groups Leon had instructed them into, he finds the hallway that leads down into the basement just as he had been looking for.

When he opens the door, undead that weren’t of the Ganado type, screech at the intrusion. Leon dodges the first one that lunges for him, ducking a second’s attempt to catch him off guard. They fall down in a tangle of limbs and two bullets to each of their heads take them out. He returns his gun to his holster, sidestepping another that comes up behind him. He latches onto one of its arms and twists it so that he could slit its neck with his knife. It falls down with an anguished moan as he presses forward without a second thought.

Leon finds a labyrinth of prison cells that are hardly more than large holes carved into the rock walls. Some had dried blood streaked on the rocks and others held shackles containing severed arms and limbs that were stripped down to bone. It's obvious that they were doing more than just researching at this lab, though it's not uncommon for Umbrella to be performing unethical human experimentation.

Actually, it's no surprise at all.

He pulls his gun out and shoots a zombie that rounds the corner of the corridor he walks in, and the bullets sound louder in the echoey cavern. It's humid down here and Leon can already feel the perspiration on his skin.

He strains to listen in the following silence and freezes when he hears something very human. It's gone just as quickly as it came and Leon begins to think that he had just imagined it until a violent cough rings out.

He takes off, following the direction of the noise as one cough had led to two and then broke into a whole fit. It sounds painful, like the person was hacking up an entire lung or something along the lines. Whoever it was, they were lucky to be alive considering all of the presumed deaths judging by the earlier cells. Speaking of which, there were countless more of those tiny jail cells, with broken iron bars and more dried blood. Just how many people were sacrificed down here?

Finally, Leon approached the source of the coughing, sliding to a stop in front of a cell that had its door locked tightly.

There, cramped inside of it was you.

Your skin was streaked with dirt, sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, the last thing you were wearing before you were kidnapped. Your hair was greasy and tangled to the point that it would take hours just to unravel it all. Your eyes were sunken in, dark bags hanging under them like you hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since you got here. To be fair, you probably didn't, and he can't fault you for that.

Worst of all is the blood pooling around your mouth, dribbling to your chin, and staining your shirt. Your veins are colored black, threading through your body and reaching up towards your eyes.

Your gaze finds him, and though he didn't expect an entire celebration, he's alarmed when you have little to no reaction at all. Instead, you tuck your head back into your knees from where your legs fold against your chest.

"Your hallucinogenic gas doesn't work on me anymore, asshole," you mumble brokenly, and Leon's heart manages to fracture more than it already had at your state. "I know he's not really here so fuck off already."

He steps forward, places a hand on the bars gently and frowns. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, unable to stop the nickname from falling from his lips. "What the hell did they do to you?"

Your head shoots up immediately, that old fire returning to your eyes, even if a mere spark. "Leon?"

"Yeah. It's me," he assures, rattling the bars of your cage. "How do we get this open?"

Instead of immediately jumping to your feet to assist him like he hoped you would, your expression turns panicked, shaking your head furiously despite flinching at the pain it causes. "Wait, Leon, no, save yourself." You beg weakly, curling up tighter. "It's not safe. I'm not safe."

Unintentionally, he growls. "What did they do to you?" He demands, ignoring your pleas.

There's an aching in your bones, tension rippling beneath your skin just waiting to burst through. It's just a matter of time, and it was terrifying. Your internal clock is counting down the minutes, and there's no telling when you might turn.

"They injected me with a variant of Las Plagas," you rush out. "The one that the DSO met us about–it’s already hatched and clearly I don't have much time yet. You need to go!"

"Absolutely not," Leon snaps. "I'm taking you home."

"Listen to me," you plead. "I don't know when this thing is going to take hold of me, but when it does, there's no telling what I'll do. You need to find the Los Illuminados member responsible–he's somewhere in this building–says his name is Lucifer, which is fucking stupid if you ask me-"

"Heard on that, and I'll let the squad know to be on the lookout," he grits his teeth. "But to hell with him, I'm getting you out."

"Why won't you just go already?!" You shout, frustrated with his stubbornness at the moment. "I'm a liability, Leon, you can't-"

"Because I'm not leaving you again, goddamnit!" Leon's voice echoes harshly like a cannon's blast, devastating and deafening.

You can't immediately form a response to that. The silence hangs tensely in the air as Leon breathes in and out shakily, before looking up at you with pleading ocean eyes. His hands wrap around the bars desperately.

"I can't lose you again," he says quietly, softly. "I can't–not when you're right here in front of me."

You stared at him only a moment longer, thinking maybe it was time you stopped trying to self-sacrifice in the name of good, even if it was something you didn't agree with. Perhaps it would save you both from a lot of heartaches in the future.

You finally give in.

"Okay," you finally concede. "Let's get this door open."

Leon perks up at your allowance, immediately scanning to lock to try and find a weak spot in it. "I'd try shooting it, but your space is so small, I could hit you."

"Do you know how to lockpick?" You ask hopefully.

"I do, but not with anything I have on me right now," Leon admits.

You blink owlishly at him before suppressing a laugh, earning a confused look from him. "You could use your knife, silly."

He's missed you. God, Leon's missed you.

Even with bloody lips and a virus pumping through your blood as you spoke, he finds that little comfort in knowing you're still the same you even for this moment.

He pulls out his knife and holds it out to you as you get up and groan, hand on your chest as you gasp for air. Alarmed, Leon startles so harshly that the iron bars clash violently, but you merely give him a strained smile.

"I'll walk it off," you attempt at humor, accepting the knife and jamming it into the lock. As you feel your way through the mechanisms, you glance up at him. "Thank you for being here."

"Of course," he watches as the lock clicks and his breath hitches. "Even if I wasn't under orders, I'd have torn down this place looking for you."

The door swings open and you look up at him, holding the knife back out to him. The blade flashes and the RPD logo shines in the torchlight. When Leon takes and sheaths it, he hesitates, eyes flicking from the passageway he came to you. You almost want to ask him what's wrong, but before you can speak he cuts you off.

Arms wrap around you and pull you to his chest, but it's not alarming the way it had been when you were kidnapped. This is warm, like finally coming home after a long arduous journey. It was familiar and yet foreign–you almost forgot what being in his arms felt like. It didn't take any time for you to return the embrace, squeezing your arms around his torso just as hard as he held you.

His nose buries into your hair, not caring about its condition and just caring that you're here and alive. He ensures you are real under his embrace on your waist and back, feeling the heat of your skin beneath his calloused palms, and it soothes him knowing you weren't completely infected yet. He didn't have to gun you down–didn't have to harm you in any way like he had been fearing.

"I missed you," Leon mumbles, so softly you almost miss it.

The vulnerability in his words catch you off guard, but it makes your chest tingle in that familiar way that he always made you feel. There's something underlying his words that you can read between the lines for. He didn't just miss you now.

Leon's missed you since your argument.

The realization makes you soften immediately. Safe to say, the sentiment was mutual.

"I missed you too," you sigh, pulling away but threading your fingers with his. "We need to figure out a way to get rid of the Plagas in me before I lose my will, and I don't know if there's an extraction device anywhere around here."

"Right," Leon nods, pressing on his earpiece. "Come in. I've located and recovered Agent (L/n), but she's infected with the new variant of Las Plagas and it's spreading fast. We need to either find an extraction device or get her to one of our labs as soon as possible."

"Copy that," one of the agents replies. "I'm fairly certain that I saw something similar to one in the left wing of the lab, though it looks more complicated than the one you and Graham used."

"It's a more advanced strain, so I'm not surprised," he begins moving down the passageway, pulling you by hand and refusing to let go. "We're heading up now. I need as many men as possible to meet us at the stairs and provide cover."

"She doesn't have any way to defend herself?"

"There's nothing more I would like than to give her a gun, but there's no telling when the Plagas might kick in. It's too high of a stake."

"Heard on that. We're heading to you now."

You and Leon make your way out of the dungeon, and you almost cry out in relief at the feeling of fresh air free of the crushing humidity you'd been forced to endure. However, you don't get too long to dwell on it before Leon tugs you along to a different portion of the lab.

Some of his men join you, bump arms with you and send their relief that you're alright. You thank them with a smile, letting Leon lead you to your next destination. There are countless sections, and they're a lot more modern than the workings of the torture dungeon. Each one contains some kind of advanced equipment that you couldn't even begin to attempt to name.

Somewhere along the way between labs and quarantine rooms, a stabbing pain floods your chest. It catches you so off guard that you stumble, alerting Leon immediately when he feels your grip almost slip from his.

A wriggling feeling in your head starts up like something was trying to finger its way out. You panic, thinking of the parasite in your body and that it might be breaking out now, and you look to Leon for any guidance. The pain and soreness travel down your body, and you fall to your knees with a cry.

"What's wrong?!" Leon jumps to your aid, kneeling by your side and pressing his fingers to the pulse point on your neck. "(Y/n), you gotta tell me what's happening."

You wheeze, struggling to breathe. "We need to hurry," you manage to whisper. "It's happening-"

A cough tears its way from your throat and it feels like the tissue of your muscles is ripping you apart from the inside out. Tears prick at your eyes as if it feels like something is trying to rip its way from inside your body. Time was running out, the last few minutes hanging precariously in front of your eyes. Your body turns cold to the touch but it feels like you’re burning alive. Your life begins flashing before your eyes and you struggle to hold on.

Leon takes the initiative and scoops you up into his arms, supporting your knees and back. You curl graciously into his chest, but you can’t find the strength to voice it, more blood dribbles down your chin and your conscience begins slipping.

You can tell Leon’s trying to run as smoothly as he can, but the urgency in his footsteps makes it difficult. The effort is appreciated nonetheless. A door bursts open in your ears and Leon places you rather haphazardly onto a seat that’s vaguely reminiscent of the ones you dread during dentist visits.

As you close your eyes, Leon begins navigating the screen to extract the Plagas and the machine whirs to life, locking your arms down to the chair. He finds the x-ray to be horrific, seeing the parasite had attached itself to your lungs, which explains your difficulty breathing, and has grown to almost cover the whole organ.

Leon is about to press the option to remove it, ready for this whole damn thing to be over.

His hand hovers over the screen…

…And you grab his arm.

It’s an iron-tight grip with a strength that you’ve never had before, breaking through the iron restraints on the machine. Your eyes open to reveal red pupils, your expression simply blank as your head slowly turns to look at him. Leon opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t get the chance to when you get up from the chair with inhuman speed.

He doesn’t even get the chance to process what was happening before you were at his backside, kicking him down and backing away to stand at the other end of the room.

Leon groans, getting to his knees, looking for you desperately. Behind you, a figure approaches in Los Illuminados robes, and a sinister smile on his dead lips. This must be the guy that was behind it all, Leon realizes.

Lucifer. It really was a dumb fucking alias.

“You didn’t think I would really make it that easy, did you Mr. Kennedy?” he taunts, tilting his head and you copy the action. “Such an obedient little puppet I have here. Do you want to play with her?”

“You have thirty seconds to let her go,” Leon spits, holding up his hand for his men to be on standby. “You don’t want to know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

“Or what?” the man muses. “You’ll kill me? You’ll have to get through her before you get to do that.”

He falters, looking from you to him while slowly formulating a plan. Somehow, he needs to separate you from the cult member controlling you and get you into the chair so his men could handle your extraction while Leon took on taking the fucker’s last breath. He keeps his eyes on the man, pressing on his earpiece and relaying the message to his squad.

Leon removes the gun from his holster, reloading it so that it was at full capacity, and sends a stiff glare to the man. “Thirty seconds are up,” he says.

The man smiles, too wide and with nothing but yellowed teeth.

Leon lunges and you copy his movements. You shriek, gurgling like you were drowning in your own lungs as you go to grab him. He dodges your attempts, numbing himself to the feelings as he kicks you roughly in the gut and sends you reeling back with a cough.

Your red irises lock onto him and you scream incoherently, faking left and going right to tackle him to the ground. Leon grunts, losing the grip on his gun in favor of apprehending your wrists, twisting his head away from where you try to bite him. He struggles before managing to roll onto his side and kicking you away. He just knows there's going to be bruises forming when you get out of here.

Leon gets to his feet and grabs his gun, sprinting toward you and sliding down to crouch by your side. He roughly pins your arms behind your back and motions to his men.

"Now!" He shouts and they all replace his hands and hoist you up to carry you to the extraction device. Your figure flails wildly as you scream, though it sounds all wrong and too animalistic to really be you.

The guy’s expression is so priceless, Leon almost laughs at it, but even he didn’t deserve that privilege.

As his men start strapping you down into the chair, the cult member himself screeches angrily, lowering his hood and revealing almost paper-white skin. His own red eyes are filled with rage as he stumbles to the ground and screams.

Leon watches as Lucifer mutates with pained shouts, gruesome in a sort of Las Plagas way he hasn't encountered in a long while. The skin slides off of him in slimy puddles to reveal bone and a wriggling parasite underneath on his chest. It’s grotesque with his ribcage exposed and arms and legs bulging with pus-filled flesh as he grows in size almost to the size of the El Gigantes he’s faced before in Spain.

The ceiling arches up high enough to fit him, and Leon realizes this must have been the plan all along. Hollowed-out eyes direct themselves to him and the newly mutated cult member roars.

With one worried glance to check that his men were still working on operating the extraction machine, he faces this new version of Lucifer with a grimace.

To be fair Leon’s survived worse.

“Same as it ever was,” he mutters under his breath, pointing the barrel of his gun to the mutant.

Meanwhile, you were thrashing wildly in the chair as the team of men strapped you in and one of them operated around on the screen. There were multiple configuration settings, having to choose which parts of your body to attack and options on what type of parasite they were killing. Your veins grow darker and you screech, struggling violently against your bindings.

“There’s not much time until the bastard can cause her to mutate too,” one of the agents points out. “We need to hurry.”

Leon slides under the incoming blow from Lucifer, rolling to his feet and seeing the ground broken where he had just been. He shoots the exposed parasite that was pulsing in the chest. Yellow pus explodes from where the bullet had hit. A couple more shots have the mutant screaming in rage and frustration, barreling toward Leon with heavy steps that shook the whole room.

He shoots the parasite two more times before dodging the mutant grabbing at him. He dances around Lucifer, peppering him with bullets, and the sound of gunshots from other agents conjoined with his.

Leon watches as the mutant shrieks, blood running down its body and oozing pus as it grabs a cabinet and rips it off the wall.

In a display of timing, he manages to dodge it when Lucifer launches it at him. Wood splinters upon its impact on the wall. Leon backs away, covered in body fluids that weren’t his, and aims his gun at the parasite once more. He only had one more bullet before he had to reload, thinking it was time to use the rifle he was equipped with.

Lucifer lunges unexpectedly, and Leon goes to dodge. Large hands close around his torso and he’s lifted off the ground. He immediately struggles, coming face to face with the ugly fucker and working to remove his right arm. Though, it’s proving difficult when the grip around him is becoming tighter and stronger.

“Fool,” Lucifer grumbles out, his voice octaves deeper and reverberating off the walls. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“That’s a shame,” Leon wheezes out, wriggling his wrist rapidly. “The party was just getting started.”

He frees his hand and grabs his knife from its sheath on his shoulder. Leon plunges the blade into the mutant’s thumb, and it lets out a horrid screech before dropping him to the floor.

He grunts upon impact, lifting himself shakily and looking up at Lucifer with heaving breaths of air. He scrambles for the knife that drops with a clink to the floor next to him and returns it to his scabbard. A shrill scream draws both of their attention and Leon sees that the men seem to have figured out how to operate this version of the extraction machine. The machinery whirs to life and mechanisms descend downward towards you.

It seems that the mutant understood what was happening as well.

Lucifer howls, making a beeline for you and the other agents surrounding you.

“Shoot the parasite!” Leon commands hotly, getting to his feet and loading the rifle from his back as he ran. “The knees!”

He passes the mutant, sliding to a stop on the frontlines and pressing his eye to the scope of his gun. Leon breathes out, aims, and pulls the trigger.

The Las Plagas parasite explodes.

It falls to the ground with a moist thud and Leon watches as the mutation seems to recede and rebuild itself back into Lucifer’s former image, though the bullet holes have left much to be desired. He’s still somewhat of a man, and apparently still alive as he pulls himself to his feet with a pathetic moan.

Leon aims his gun and shoots Lucifer in the knees. As he stumbles back to the ground worthlessly, he reaches for you with a cry.

"My masterpiece," he wails and the blood only boils hotter in Leon. "You can't take her from me! She's my magnum opus! My life's work!"

Snarling, Leon rips his knife from its sheath and launches it so that it pierces into the cult member's arm and pins him to the ground. The man screams, but Leon has no remorse as he approaches him, ripping the weapon out and almost relishing in the way he started screaming in agony upon the blood that comes gushing from the wound.

Leon flips him over and glares darkly into his rotting eyes. "Let's get one thing straight, fucker," he spits, grabbing a fistful of the cult member's collar and raising him up off the floor. "She's not your anything–she's mine."

That's the only last words Leon allows him to process before pressing the barrel of his handgun to the cult member’s and pulling the trigger.

The silence that follows is nothing but the aftermath of a battle. Blood coats Leon’s skin thickly, though a majority of it isn’t his own. Throughout the whole fight, he only suffered minor injuries from scuffing the floor and being thrown around a little. In the bigger picture, he’s fought larger and worse bioweapons than some random guy who didn’t really know what he was getting into playing around with parasites and viruses.

Not forgetting his top priority, Leon gets to his feet and swivels around, striding in your direction. The agents part like the Red Sea for him as the extraction device works its magic. It’s clear you’re in pain by the way you jerk roughly and whine weakly, though Leon simply bites his cheek and watches your x-ray on the screen.

The parasite on your lungs wriggles desperately, trying to escape the assault. A few tense seconds of futile struggle pass before it gives up and disintegrates in on itself. As a result, you finally stop resisting and the blackened veins under your skin begin receding.

Leon breathes out silently in relief.

He looks at his team and nods.

They managed to have no casualties, and they'd completed all of their goals. All that was left to do was blow this place sky high and go home.

He turns back to your unconscious body, knowing that you’re probably exhausted by the strain the Plagas had put on you. Leon gently caresses your hair, hoping that his intent reached you even as you were sleeping.

And finally, he started to feel something similar to peace.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Unlike your dream in the black void of the dungeon, this time, you find yourself completely surrounded by white.

You can see yourself as you look down, find yourself able to move freely and willingly, though it feels floaty and not at all natural. It's not something you'll complain about, though. It's better you can move in a dream rather than not being able to at all.

You glance around, finding nothing but white space.

This couldn't be real. Did you die during the extraction process? Surely not, though you hate to admit that the parasite had made you incredibly weak. Coughing up blood the first time was bad enough, but after the proceeding fits, you may as well have been throwing the stuff up. Still, you could remember everything during the time you were possessed right up until you had blacked out from the machine.

You'd fought Leon briefly, yet he still insisted on helping you.

"You know," a familiar voice yanks you out of your deep thoughts. "You really are in denial."

You swirl around to find the source of the voice, only to furrow your eyebrows in confusion as Leon seems to materialize from an invisible fog. He's the same as he always was with the same handsome features you've spent admiring for an untold amount of hours, but something seems incredibly off. Your gut doesn't like it and neither do you.

"Is that so?" You frown. "I don't suppose you'll tell me who you are?"

"C'mon, (Y/n)," he grins, holding his arms out. "It's just me."

"You're not real, though," you counter. "For all I know you're just a figment of my imagination telling me what I want to hear."

"If that was true, I'd tell you I hate you," Leon shrugs, coming to stand next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

His palm lacks the warmth it should have.

"What?"

"You've really gotta stop trying to be the hero of this whole ordeal," he says, facing you. "You're trying to protect his reputation in the workplace and the last thing you'd want to do is get him in trouble, so realistically you want him to hate you. But he doesn't."

"Bummer," you sigh and sit down. He joins you.

It's odd, floating with an image of your best friend who is very much not real. For a dream, it's incredibly vivid, though.

"Why do you insist on refusing to be with him?" Leon asks. "Since you like him so much and obviously he likes you too."

"Does he really, though?"

"That's the whole reason he had that argument with you, yeah? What was it he said? Something about how you were acting like it only affected one of you guys?"

You cringe. "Yeah."

"Well, did you ever consider what he might've really meant by that?"

You look up at Leon confused, drawing your knees to your chest. "What do you mean?"

He leans back lazily. "I mean, instead of him seemingly accusing you that you were only thinking of yourself, perhaps he meant that you were only thinking of him and his reputation? What it might entail for him was always on your mind–you're considerate like that–but did you ever consider yourself?"

You blink dumbly and shake your head. "Y'know you're really bad at impersonating Leon. He'd never try giving me a free therapy session."

"Ouch. I'm trying my best here."

"I know you are."

"I'm just saying," Leon says, "maybe you should start thinking about yourself. It would probably hurt him knowing that you don't think yourself worthy of him."

"That's because I'm not," you sigh. One big circle, this argument was. "He's the best agent DSO has to offer and I'm some coworker who keeps her head in the computers. Tell me how it would ever work out."

"You can maintain an appropriate workplace appearance while dating. It's just a matter if the two parties are mature enough to pull it off. Besides, I'm sure he doesn't care about status–which, you're a part of the DSO as well, so I don't really see the problem there–as long as you make him happy."

That shuts you up.

"You know that he loves you, don't you?" Leon asks after a bout of silence.

Your breath hitches–as much as it can in a dream, anyway.

The question makes you ponder everything that has happened. Everything Leon did, you just wrote it off as something of his flirtatious demeanor who had nothing better to do than hit on any woman he came across. Hunnigan was most notable in this scenario, but really any female coworker was fair game. However, you don't think he necessarily went to their house to have dinner and watch movies and just sit on a cheap couch to talk for hours without getting bored.

You always knew it. You were just scared to admit it.

You were scared of Leon loving you as much as you loved him.

"Yeah," you answer quietly. "He really does, doesn't he?"

The Leon of your head smiles, familiar even as a facade. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest just like the night you had shared cigarettes together and it's just like you remembered. It lacks the warmth that made the whole hug worth it, but for now, you can deal with cold comfort.

You close your eyes.

"Do you wanna go back?" Leon asks.

You shrug non-committedly. "Not yet. I kinda just wanna stay here with you for a second."

"Okay," he says.

"You're not real," you whisper, reminding yourself that this safe space is nothing more than temporary. "Leon's out there in the real world, isn't he?"

"Probably worrying his ass off if anything," Not-Leon muses. "Promise you'll make an effort once you get out of here? Not only for his happiness, but for yours as well."

It's a challenge, being told to care for more than just Leon and trying to do what you think is best for him. But…if you being happy made him happy by proxy, then there really was no argument to have, was there?

You love Leon S. Kennedy.

And he loves you too.

"I promise," you say, and you know it's true.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

The night is nothing but rain and stormy weather. While everybody was out celebrating their successful mission, Leon found himself in the confines of his own apartment–the very one he hated.

Only a yellow light above his dinner table illuminates the space, and he has a glass of hard whiskey that attempts to quiet his nerves like an old companion. It doesn't work very well. After they had returned home, you were taken to a hospital immediately to record your body and search for any traces of the Plagas that might still reside in you. Leon wasn't able to go with you, but he supposes it's fair in a sense. He just hopes you're okay.

Hunnigan had contacted him soon after they had admitted you in, thanking Leon for bringing you home and doing everything he could. It was some semblance of comfort, though it wasn't very strong.

Thunder rolls in the background.

Leon sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose roughly and massaging the spot in hopes of relieving the headache he had gained. Sleep has been far and few in between since stress loves to keep him up often, but can anybody really blame him for being so worried for you? As much as he hates to admit it, you're not capable of keeping yourself safe the way you should. Leon thinks that he should give you personal training sometime to prevent something like this happening again, though he doubts he'll want you to leave his sight for a while.

The thought makes him pause.

Since when has he grown so possessive over you?

Fuck, he really was in too deep, wasn't he? How you had managed to break through the rough exterior he put up was beyond him, looking past his status and persona to see the real Leon, bruised and bloodied and ruinous. You disregarded the murder on his hands, understood him in a way nobody did before, and became a sanctuary that he felt safe enough to thrive in.

Nobody else has done that before. Not even the likes of Claire or even Ada.

What would he even say when he saw you again? It was clear that you were on better terms than you had been previously, but the wound from your argument in the archives still hurt like it was fresh so the two of you definitely needed to sort it all out. He needs you to know that he fucked up, and it was something that wouldn't happen again.

He needs you to know that-

Three quiet knocks is all it took to pull him from his storm of thoughts.

Leon looks up, confused. He wasn't expecting any visitors tonight and all the likely candidates were already busy and never mentioned making a pit stop to him. Just to be safe, he grabs Matilda and loads it before getting up from the table and making his way to the front door. As he gets closer, he can hear the pounding of the pouring rain. It's heavy tonight.

When Leon opens the door, your figure stands on the other side completely drenched from the weather. Your eyes light up upon seeing him, but the bags beneath your eyes show how tired you really are. All that you have is a duffel bag and a backpack.

For a second, all you do is stare at each other, and the ambience of the pattering rain sounds like rhythmic drum beats.

"I had nobody else to go to," you finally say as a poor explanation. "But I can go somewhere else if you want."

Those words yank Leon out of his stupor and he shakes his head, opening the door wider and ushering you in with gentle sounds. He peeks out, making sure you weren't followed and shuts the door before double locking it and checking it. When he turns around, he finds you watching him anxiously and shifting from foot to foot like you didn't know what to do with yourself. To be fair, you haven't been in his apartment nearly as much as he'd been in yours.

His whole body laxes as if just the sight of you was enough to put all his worries at rest.

"C'mon," he invites, pressing a hand to the small of your back and guiding you down the hall. "Let's go run you a shower."

Once he sets you up and offers to take your clothes to wash, he leaves you to settle in, telling you that you can pick any of the spare guest rooms (there were many unnecessary ones) and to make yourself at home. In the meantime, he decides that whiskey probably isn't the best thing to be having when the object of his affections just showed up on his doorstep.

Instead, Leon settles for something more mild.

The coffee just finishes brewing when you walk in shyly, hair wet and an oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your frame. You find that he's set out two steaming mugs alongside countless flavors of creamers and syrups. Your heart warms at the gesture as you slowly get closer to him.

"Help yourself," Leon prods gently, nonjudgmentally as he stirs in his own choice of combination. "I don't use everything as much as I should be, to be fair."

"Thank you," you say because you won't forget your manners as you select your flavorings. The underlying tension is deep enough that you can feel it in the air like some bubble waits to burst open, scattering everything into a flurry of a mess. You'd just have to make sure it doesn't get out of hand. "Listen, Leon-"

"Let's go get comfortable on the couch," he interrupts not unkindly. "It'll be less stressful if we're in a familiar setting."

Side by side on a sofa, the place where you two seemed to always find yourselves no matter what scenario. It's your thing, and the sentiment makes you happy, even if only for a little.

"Okay."

As promised, you find yourself sitting across from him, stirring your coffee together and struggling not to lose your nerve. Maybe it was a mistake coming here right after you'd been released from the hospital. Maybe you just ruined his whole night.

"I'm sorry I showed up out of nowhere," you begin, keeping your eyes on the way the liquid swirls in your cup with the spoon. "I know you like to expect people rather than them suddenly invading your space."

Leon shakes his head slightly. "You're not invading. I've told you before that this apartment is here for you just as much as it is for me, yeah?"

He has. Those words ring a distant bell in your head.

Another silence lapses as you try to gather the courage to just put out the words you've been meaning to say for weeks. There's theoretically nothing to be scared of, no monsters to run from, or any life or death scenario hanging in the balance. It was just Leon–it always has been. You just have to find the strength to show him the deepest parts of yourself and hope that you've molded your heart into something good enough to present to him.

You're not scared.

You're terrified.

There's nothing to run from.

Leon's reaction will make or break you.

You love him. He loves you.

But does he really?

"I-" your voice cracks already and that's enough to make heat flame to your cheeks in embarrassment.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to," Leon assures, "but we do need to talk at some point."

"I know," you swallow, setting down your drink and twisting your hands nervously in your lap.

"How about we start with why you came here? I know you were being tested for any missed traces of Las Plagas that still might've been in your system."

Bless him–that was an easy enough question to start off with.

"They dispatched me after giving me the all-clear and giving me doses of pills to take. They're the finalized versions of the suppressants that you took while you were in Spain to prolong the maturing of the parasites," you explain, pressing your lips together and breathing in and out. "They wanted me to stay with somebody, though. My apartment is a dead zone now since Los Illuminados and whoever else knows where I live. I would've asked Hunnigan but…"

You pause, wondering if you were really going through with this. Leon waits patiently, understanding without saying anything.

"I wanted to go somewhere I knew I'd feel safe," you confess, finally ripping your gaze up to look at him. "I feel safe when I'm with you."

He doesn't answer that, expression blank. Usually, you can read his little telltales, things that people from the outside can't usually see, but right now, you can't make out what he might be thinking. For all you know, he could hate you right now.

Your throat turns tight and the saltwater burns behind your eyelids. The tears are already cascading and you curse yourself for being so weak in the face of confrontation. "I understand if you don't– don't want me here, and I c-can really leave if you want me to-"

"Hey, hey," Leon sets his own cup aside on the coffee table and scoots closer carefully. "You're stressing yourself out–calm down and breathe for a second. I want you here. I always do, okay?"

It's hard to, and it feels like your chest is caving in on itself like it did when the Plagas was attaching itself to your lungs and transforming you into a monster. You certainly felt like one the night you'd-

"I took advantage of you," you gasp, struggling for the air you so desperately need but determined to push on because goddamnit if you weren't going to have this conversation right now after avoiding it for so long. "That night at the bar and I...I didn't even ask. I'm sorry."

"Follow me," Leon takes a hold of your hand and presses it to his chest, exaggerating his breaths. "You're okay."

The words are tumbling out of your mouth, running like a babbling brooke. He caresses your cheek with your free hand and throughout the whole ordeal, the two of you never break eye contact once. His thumb swipes aimlessly at the assault of tears and you think of how ugly and puffy you probably look right now.

But all you can see are those sapphire eyes watching you.

"I didn't mean it," you cave into his touch, head tilting into the palm of his hand willingly. "I didn't mean it when I accused you of just wanting to get me into your bed. You're so much more than that–you're everything to me and I–I was scared."

Leon frowns, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Scared of what, sweetheart?"

The question is daunting, but you're already too far in to stop now.

"Of you. Of how much you might like me," you whisper, closing your eyes. Your head is spinning and it feels like the couch is tipping from underneath you. "I was scared of what people might say, how it would affect you. I didn't want you to hate me."

"Oh, baby."

The nickname rolls off his tongue like honey and you make a small whimper at how it makes you feel. Even after all this time, Leon knows just how to bring you to your knees with so little words. He sounds like he's in pain just listening to you, and the auditory distress causes you to peek your eyes open just a little, looking past the blur of saltwater to see him

"How could I ever hate you?" Leon murmurs, expression pinched tightly in the way he did when he was in pain. He moves even closer until you can practically feel his body heat radiating off of him. For so many nights you've dreamed of having him this close, right next to you and hands holding you in such a loving way that almost brings you to tears.

Leon's light breaths fan your face and you close your eyes again, feeling his presence all around you. His lips press warmly against your forehead, then your eyebrow, then your cheeks. Your own skin heats beneath his ministrations, and he chuckles lowly at your adorable reactions.

His nose bumps against yours.

"I'm no better," he says and you can smell the hints of whiskey on his breath mixing with the aroma of coffee. "I said you ruined everything–if anything, you should hate me."

You shake your head, opening your eyes and looking right up at him. He's so close, so intimate in this tense moment that you fall forward and rest your forehead on the dip of his collarbones. Leon wastes no time readjusting his hold on you until you're fully tucked into his embrace, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

"Maybe," he whispers on accident, then clears his throat before saying louder, "Maybe you'd like to spend the night in my room instead?"

Butterflies erupt in your stomach like you're a teenage girl with a crush. "I'd like that."

Well…maybe it's not a crush anymore, but you're definitely obsessed.

Leon gathers you up in his arms like he was carrying you across a threshold for a honeymoon, not even bothering to turn off the kitchen light or grab your coffees that were teetering towards lukewarm. To be fair, if he was on the same page as you, his priority wasn't the cleanliness of the apartment.

He sets you down on your feet once he gets into his room, closing the door and turning to find you looking around the space curiously. You stray towards the nightstand, leaning down to peek into the frame of one of the photos that's set there. It's a city landscape in the sunset, warm tones creating a fiery display across the sky in the background. You tilt your head at it, knowing Leon wasn't one to have an eyeball for photography or artistically deep metaphors.

It only takes a moment for you to recognize the shape of it and what it meant.

"Raccoon City," you murmur.

Silence as he makes his way next to you, looking at the picture and frowning. "Yeah. I don't know why I still keep that around."

You turn to him as he sits down on his bed. "No, it's understandable, Leon. What happened in Raccoon City was a tragedy–it's a miracle you survived."

"I guess," he looks aimlessly out the window that has its curtains pulled back the way he had left it.

There was no telling what tragedies he had faced inside of that police station during his first day as a rookie cop. You had seen pictures when his face was rounder and his innocent eyes had been a little brighter, though the signs of trauma began setting in even then. Leon's grown into his role now, more mature and right here in front of you.

You watch him for a beat more, admiring the way he seems to glow in the moonlight. Something tugs in your chest, something magnetic, that draws you to him. Without thinking, you say, "You're really pretty, you know."

Leon's head snaps in your direction so quickly, you're surprised he doesn't get whiplash. "What?"

"You're pretty," you say simply. "Or do you prefer a more masculine adjective?"

"No, it's not that," he swivels his body toward you reaching out to take your hand in his. "You said that to me that night–at the bar when you were drunk."

You cringe, lacing your fingers with his. "At least you know I was honest then? I'm sorry, I don't remember much about that night besides kissing you."

To your quiet surprise, he tugs on your hand and pulls you into his lap, hand trailing to your thigh, warm and gentle yet firm. Your stomach seems to twist giddily at the action while your brain struggles to comprehend the sudden situation.

"Leon?" You breathe out.

"You're going to kill me," he murmurs, leaning forward and pressing his nose into the dip between your collarbones. "You're killing me and I'm letting you."

"What do you mean? Please, Leon, I don't understand-"

"I can't lose you," he cuts you off, eyes flicking up to your face. "I can't–they took you and all I could think was, 'Not her. Anybody but her.' You–You fucking torment me."

You freeze in his arms, mouth dropping into an 'o' as he pressed his lips to your neck. The way he recites the exact words you wrote in that stupid journal was enough to make your head spin. It was like he was sitting here putting out all his rawest emotions for you to pick through.

Even after all this time of being such a ruined man in the presence of every horror he faced, he watered himself down into something just for you. After everything that had happened between you two in the past weeks, Leon managed to mold and shape his heart into something suitable enough to give you.

"You read it?"

"Of course I did. Every word where you were in pain because of me," Leon pauses, breathing in shakily. His grip turns almost bruising on your thighs. "You weren't taking advantage of me, baby. You were just in love with me like I am with you."

Baby, he keeps calling you. Funny how that simple little word was enough to send you into overdrive, right down to your core.

His words stole the air from your lungs as you were encapsulated with an intense want for him. You needed him like flowers needed the sun and the earth needed its axis to spin and the day needed the night.

"Leon."

"Hm?"

"Kiss me, please."

His mouth was on yours in a second without a thought, your fingers threading through his hair as he pulled on your waist to get you closer.

It brought you back to that night after the bar, but this was better. You were conscious enough this time to memorize the shape of him and the way he tasted. His tongue ran across your bottom lip and darted into your mouth as soon as you opened up for him. Leon's grip was bruising, caught between shattering you and trying not to hurt you.

Your lips mold perfectly together and when you part to gain air, nothing but pants and quiet sounds fill the air. Your chest feels like it's expanding with how much you love him and your mind goes dizzy by the way his hands travel upward and hike the shirt up on your torso, exploring the flesh of your stomach.

Leon pulls you back in, kissing you feverishly as you grind down on him instinctively, drawing out a delicious groan that sounds so beautiful. You want more noises, more of him, so you move your hips again until he stops you, hands halting your movements.

"If you keep doing that, I won't be able to control myself much longer, sweetheart," he chastises lightly against your lips, pecking the corner of your mouth to let you know that he wasn't angry.

You feel particularly bold tonight, letting all your passion for him run wild. It's a boost of confidence that you didn't expect to be having, but it's not unappreciated.

"You don't have to control yourself around me," you lean in until your forehead pressed against his. "I'm yours."

"Fuck, baby," Leon groans, eyes screwing shut as you roll on him again, letting you lick into his mouth. "Do you know what you do to me?"

"I have an idea," you hum against him, fingers getting into those silky locks of his. "But, why don't you tell me just to make sure?"

His hands travel up your body further until they brush right underneath your breasts as you hadn't bothered with a bra after your shower. He makes a noise of delight upon discovering this, fingertips brushing lightly against one of your nipples and you choke on a gasp from the sensation. As revenge, you swivel your hips so that you can feel him through the slutty gray sweatpants he'd adorned before you showed up.

If you noticed an insistent hardness poking at you–well you weren't one to complain.

Leon borderline moans and you have to resist begging him to fuck you right there just to hear him more. Instead, you lean into his touch as much as you can to absorb it all, head full of nothing but him. How many times have you thought about this? So many nights you thought about how it might feel to have his hands on your body and his tongue shoving into your mouth in the sinful way it was doing right now.

If this is what brought you to hell, then you'd look the demons in the eyes and tell them that Leon had shown you heaven without you ever having to step foot into it.

"You make me so unfocused," he begins, thumb pads running circles around your nipples as he hikes your shirt up even farther. "You distract me from my work and make me say and do things I never usually do."

"Then I suppose we're even," you quip sassily.

You cry out when his teeth suddenly latch sharply on your neck, sucking harshly and tongue swiping over the mark to ease the pain. One glance down shows mischievous blue eyes staring back at you, drinking in your reactions like a fine wine he needed to stay alive. Cheeky bastard.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs in awe. "How did I ever get so lucky to be blessed by you?"

"Blessed is a strong word," you laugh lightly, pulling your hands away to pull off your shirt eagerly. "I'm no angel, Leon."

His tongue darts out to lick those pretty pink lips that have swelled from the pressure of your mouth on his. A feeling of pride wells in your chest, knowing that even just for tonight, he was yours.

"You're right," he runs a hand up and down your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in the wake of his touch. "A goddess is a more fitting title. I'd worship you daily on hands and knees."

His sweet words make your head spin wildly and you need him more than anything. You hook your arms around his neck, pulling him down so that he hovers over you as your back hits the mattress. It's some sort of memory foam–probably the best kind one could afford judging by his salary.

"I know you hate your apartment," you whisper and he goes slightly rigid. Assuring him gently, you caress his face in your hand. "Let me make it a home for you. Let me give you a reason to like it."

You want the memory of you to be imprinted here everywhere you could, the same way that he left pieces of himself at your place like invasive little dust bunnies sitting in small corners waiting to be discovered. Everywhere he looks, you want him to see you.

"Make me yours," you beg, hands trailing downward and tracing the v-line through his shirt.

Eagerly, Leon's body covers yours, and you think that even if he kissed you with bloody lips, it would still be the sweetest taste you ever had.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

The morning glow wakes him up slowly, kissing his eyelids and rousing him from sleep. Unlike every day he woke up in his apartment, the golden light doesn't seem as intrusive anymore.

Leon's brain lags momentarily, fingers skittering across the mattress next to him instinctively in a way he's never felt the need to before. He brushes against bare skin and latches on, pulling your naked body towards his own. You mumble incoherently but allow him to draw you in, making yourself comfortable against his chest as his arm circles your waist.

You fit together like pieces of a puzzle meant to be together.

For a moment, all that's left is your quiet breaths as you avoid getting up. Since you were instructed to stay home due to medical concerns and Leon had his grace period after such an intense mission, the two of you were in no hurry to leave the bed. After all, the memory of what occured the night before just made cherishing the present all the more important.

Moments of your night together flashes through Leon's head and he preens knowing that bruises in the shapes of his hands and love marks stretch along the length of your body. Surely, you'll scold him for placing them in such visible places for when you do inevitably return to work, but right now, he could just call it his masterpiece.

That possessive monster in his chest is sated for now.

You move in his arms, making a small noise of contentment before pressing a lazy kiss to his chest. Leon's heart soars.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart," he laughs and the rich noise vibrates against you. You want to get high off the sound of his gravelly morning voice. "How'd you sleep?"

"Really good," you yawn, opening your eyes in a squint finally and looking up at him. "But, I am pretty sore. You really did a number on me last night, babe."

That shit-eating smirk he grows is enough to make you roll your eyes. You're sure that he considered your activity a light work out while you were exhausted by the end of round one. Nonetheless, you wouldn't have traded your time together for anything.

You trace shapes into his bicep, appreciating his muscle and wishing you could tell him all the things you've wanted to for the longest time. However, one of the biggest questions still lingers on the forefront of your mind that you can't help but ask.

"What does this mean for us?" You ask hesitantly. "We said a lot of things last night."

"We did," he agrees easily and tilts your chin up to face him. You notice that eye contact seems to be a big thing to Leon and you're not one to deny him that small comfort. "What do you want to be?"

“You really want me to say it out loud?” You frown.

“If you want to.”

The silence is almost deafening but it’s not uncomfortable as Leon awaits your answer patiently. There’s so many words left unsaid, so many things you want to pour out to him and beg him for. Instead, you pull a distant memory from your head and divert the heavy question you had asked yourself.

“Did you mean it?" You whisper, eyes fluttering closed when Leon cradles your face gently. His warmth is addicting. "I mean when you told that guy that I was yours."

He blinks in surprise. “You heard that?”

“Barely,” you admit sheepishly. “I was still conscious enough but I heard you.”

Leon doesn’t need to think about the response. "Yes," he replies without hesitation. "If you want to be mine, then I am yours."

"Okay," you smile, turning your face to kiss the palm of his hand lovingly. "We'll be each other's."

He swoons, melts in your presence and lets himself plummet like Icarus when he flew too close to the sun.

After a period of silence, you finally say it.

“I want us to be lovers.”

Time seems to freeze in place as those words fell from your lips. Leon waits with a baited breath, to see if you might backtrack or regret it. No such denial comes and he buries his nose into your hair.

“Alright,” he murmurs. “We’ll be lovers.”

“This sounds stupid. Like we’re kids playing house together or some shit.”

He laughs, kissing your forehead and letting himself revel in the feeling of love. This all-encompassing warmth that makes him feel so alive and in the moment–something he hasn’t felt in years–that you somehow reignited. You, a miracle in his life. You, who wanted to be lovers.

“Leon.”

“Hm?”

“I…”

You pull back, look him in the eyes and resist the tears that threaten to roll out of your eyes because this is everything you’ve dreamed of since you met him.

“I love you.”

Leon’s expression shifts, eyes widening like he couldn’t believe his ears before he’s on you in a second, kissing you everywhere he could reach. He steals the breath from your lungs as he tugs your mouth to his and grants you a bruising kiss, all of his emotions knocking over and translating through his actions stronger than any word could describe.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll say it every day until we grow old, I swear.”

You have to giggle at his cheesiness, though you don’t complain at all as you kiss him again.

“I’m not leaving you again. Move in with me, I–” He chokes on his words, “–We can make this apartment ours instead of just mine. There’s a high-tech security system installed so you’d be safe, and you won’t want for anything. Whatever you want, you'll have it.”

You can’t help but poke fun at him, even in this tender moment where you’re more than ready to drop everything and move your whole life into his place. “Even if I want kids?”

“Especially if you want kids,” he cooes. “Having a family with you would be a dream, baby.”

“Then I’ll make them come true,” you promise. Then, because you can’t help yourself, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

You love him and he loves you, just as everything was destined to be.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

You stumble out of the bar, a wide grin plastered on your face and cheeks alight with a strong blush. The world tips under your feet, though steady hands stabilize you and lead you through the fog of your thoughts.

Still never as much of a drinker as Leon is, you find yourself in a familiar setting as your fingers lace with your lover’s perfectly. This night is less innocent, less questioning as you blindly follow wherever you’re led. Tonight was a celebration, and you intend to cash in your joy entirely to the man who promises you only good things.

You land in a car seat, expensive leather under you as Leon shuts the door and crosses to the driver side.

For some reason, you can’t stop smiling though you can’t exactly figure out why. Maybe it’s because you’re in love. Maybe it’s because you’re grounded with the knowledge he loves you too.

Lifetimes ago, you would have given anything in the world to hold his hand or be close to him as long as the intrusive watching eyes weren’t around to see it. Back then, you hid and concealed your feelings to save a reputation that wasn’t even yours. It seems so foolish now that you were so desperate to keep him away from you, whereas now, you don’t think you can live without him.

Maybe if you were in the same mindset now, you would be panicking at the blurry car lights that pierce through the windshield and spotlight directly onto your figures.

Two headlights, two watching eyes.

Without thinking, you turn in your seat and pull Leon close, kissing him eagerly as he returns the gesture enthusiastically. Your lips mold perfectly to his and it’s just like your first kiss all over gain, but even better.

Millions of years ago, you would reel back in horror and think about what this entailed for you two. Right now, you don’t really give a damn.

Many things have changed since that fateful night, and equally, many things have evolved and developed within your relationship. No matter what happened, though, Leon was always there to assure you that he loved you. No matter what, he was there for you even when he was across the country on a mission.

The Las Plagas incident had left a scar on both of you, and afterward, Leon was terrified to leave you on your own every time he was assigned to a mission. However, you assured him that you can defend yourself well enough now. After all, you never have a handgun too far away from your grasp at all times.

He’s trained you well.

Your shared apartment is more than safe, and you’ve successfully removed the bad taste in Leon’s mouth regarding the place. The walls have pictures of you two together and your plants thrive under the sun they gain from the large windows. Your couches are strewn with unique little pillows and hand-knit blankets and are large enough for both of you to sprawl out on movie nights.

It's warm, no longer cold and empty and bare in the ways that made his disdain for his own existence grow.

The bookshelves are full of novels of all kinds, though the most precious book resides in your nightstand.

A little black journal whose pages weren’t even used up all the way.

Leon had taken the time to read it thoroughly afterward when the minutes weren't counting down to your demise. You had sat right next to him, chin hooked over his shoulder as the tears welled hotly in his eyes at the messy emotions you had leaked onto the pages with your pen. You’d kissed them all away, assured him that things have changed, and promised that it was all in the past.

No regrets, no doubts, no more monsters.

The rational part of your head reminds you that all those reports waiting for you at the office tomorrow would be a pain in the ass. It doesn’t matter, though. Right now, the present matters, and right now, Leon was with you.

He was here with you after a night of drinking sitting in a car with matching dopey grins and flushed cheeks, totally and completely in love.

“I love you,” Leon murmurs affectionately.

"I love you too,” you return, just as enamored.

People could stare through the car lights, watch you, and whisper, but their opinions didn’t matter–not when you had an eternity of a lifetime ahead of you with him.

The matching wedding bands on your and Leon’s ring fingers agree.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil leon #resident evil fic #resident evil x you #leon kennedy fanfic

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corpsebasil · 4 months

Text

Short Drabble of !Dragon Rider reader and Sir Nikolai

Allow me to indulge myself because I love dragons

Sir Dominik, your elder brother, had been the only true authority in your life since birth.

Your brother, Sir Dominik, who taught you the ways of dragon riding. Of bonding with the beasts that legends were made of.

When you were sixteen and you rode your first dragon you screamed, terrified for your life, but soon instinct kicked in and you were screaming out of pure joy, hands high in the air as your dragon roared beneath you. Surprisingly, your dragon was the same age as you. A gorgeous creature that seemed as much of a teenager as you were, often playing fetch with tree branches or mocking you with hide and seek.

WAIT WAIT— SORRY A CUTE SCENE JUST CAME TO MIND WHILE EDITING—

^thats who your dragon thinks he is HAHAHA

“Come out, come out, wherever you are..” You cooed, pretending not to see the giant dragon hiding behind the skinniest tree in the entire forest. The beast was almost comically still, wings tucked in as if that would help. “Where arrrre you, sweetheart?”

The nickname sweetheart made the dragon grumble lowly. He was not a sweetheart he was a—

“GOTCHA!” You yelled and your dragon growled loudly in protest as it scrambled away.

Silly beast.

ANYWAYS

Dominik who, when battle struck Ravka, chose you as his second in command of the few riders that existed. Barely enough to count on one hand but still, the results were devastating.

Until you’d entered the final battle over the seas, your eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second before a bolt hit his dragon, then him, sending two of the most precious beings in your life tumbling dead into the ocean.

…yeah

And the scream you let out was so loud and anguished that your own dragon let out a roar in response, your face streaked with tears as you burned the rest of the enemy’s army to the ground.

They never found his body.

Sir Nikolai was the first to approach after the tragedy, his presence one of the only you’d allow after what had happened.

“My lady,” he greeted you, even if you weren’t titled. “Dominik was…is…the best friend I ever had. A brother to me. If there’s anything I can—”

“He was my brother.” You snapped, turning that gorgon gaze of yours to his. “Mine.”

“I understand.” He said after a brief pause, his expression tight. “But I’m still here for you.”

You ignored him, turning to stare out the window at the far distant sea, recalling the shouts and cries of battle, of your own reaction to your sibling’s death.

You’d ran that night. Ran for what felt like miles before you finally tripped, rolling several times along the ground before you crouched, fingers digging into the earth, and wailed your pain out into the open air until you thought your lungs would cave. The sound was so awful you couldn’t recreate it if you tried.

(Cue IM IN THE WIND IM IN THE WAAATER NOBODIES SON NOBODIES DAAAAU)

Years passed—three exactly—before you gave Nikolai the time of day. You slowly taught him how to ride a dragon, the beast frightened of the intimidating knight’s lethal armor until you convinced him to lose it, stating that the armor wouldn’t help him if he fell anyways.

Months after that he was as skilled as you not and accompanied you for morning and evening rides, the two of you just gliding and swapping stories until the sun went down. You grew to trust him, albeit only a bit, and ventured to spend more and more time with the knight.

Then came the evening of the summer solstice when dragon riders famously performed night shows, blasting fire into the skies and racing one another. Nikolai, for the first time in his life, found himself invited to the ceremony. He himself rode the brother to Dominik’s dragon, the beast having had seemed to bond almost instinctively to the knight.

Afterwards, once the two of you were sweaty and exhausted from performing for the crowd along with your fellow riders, you let the dragons into their (rather expensive) nesting areas and let yourselves dance.

And boy did you dance.

While he never kissed you—had never tried to—you found yourself wishing more and more for that touch as Sir Nikolai spun you from dance to dance, the night sky and the warm breeze wrapping around the both of you like a acción.

Coaccioné

WHAT THE FUCK IS THE WORD

sorry Author’s Note it’s cocoon* but I’m too lazy to edit that much and my keyboard is not English LMAO

Anyways

ANYWAYS so that night if anyone saw him kiss you outside the castle before you went to your gorgeous cottage in the village, no they didn’t.

If anyone saw you take him home, no they didn’t.

If anyone witnessed the two of you married a year later, yes they did.

#dragons #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #knight nikolai lantsov #fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #knight nikolai #knight x reader #sir nikolai lantsov

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the-arbiter-general · 3 months

Note

Oh, Jing Yuan! A question: the little finches... sparrows??? Whatever they are... how do you like their company? They seem to like you very much and feel safe enough to shelter in your hair. I don't know what the Xianzhou may think about it but I'd say that a high sign of trust, which if little small creatures like them feel safe with you, I think that is undoubtedly a sign that you are a good person.

(Ooc: HI ERU ALSO SCREAMS BECAUSE OMG BEST JING YUAN AAAAA HE IS MY FAVORITE AND BIG COMFORT CHARACTER AND ALSO MY CHOSEN HUSBANDO SO FINDING BEING DIRECTED TO YOUR ACCOUNT WAS DAY MADE)

“Those little, harmless critters that flock me at specific times of the days?” He finds himself chuckling fondly at the memories of peace, but he finds his gaze towards yours, the softness remaining on his features, but his eyes were calculating to the comment of him being someone of decent, if not, high praise.

A good person, she says. He remains silent, but the corners of his lips rise into an expression of warmth. “You flatter me, you do, however,” his eyes averts from yours, towards the scenery of the Ambrosial Arbor tree, his gaze distant, and reminiscing.

“Had it not for my status as the beholder of the Reignbow Arbiter's wishes, had it not been for my fierceness in strategy that led me to a high position, had it not for this title, this life,”

He pauses, looking over his shoulder, his former expression shifting into a somber smile. “I would've been able to accept your statements to the fullest, with great gratitude,”

“But know,” he turns around to your direction, fully, a calculative and authorative look looms over his features. “That those little, fleeting birds, have no clue as to what I have done, nor they will ever find out what I currently do.”

“Good, you describe me,” his face falls, down to his desk, his expression softening, saddening, casting shadow over the table. “Long overdue, is what I would describe myself.”

His head perks up, in realization to his rambling, and the additional added air of sorrow, thickly unpleasant. “Forgive me and my ramblings,” he sighs, giving you a forced smile, with one hand up and covering half of his face.

“How unsightly of the Arbiter General, truly.”

#[ ✧ ] — Hourly Leisures #ooc below tags.#honkai star rail rp #hsr rp #jing yuan rp #jing yuan #jing yuan roleplay blog #jing yuan rp blog #honkai star rail roleplay #jing yuan x reader #[ ✧ ] — ooc ; eru is interrupting #Please. This is truly flattering but I wouldn't say the best. I discourage your compliments but I'll still give you my appreciation anyways.#Also Jing Yuan's fluent in yappanese and trauma. Apologies for such a long response. (But I also found it to be quite fitting)

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ikeromantic · 6 months

Text

Read to Me

Chevalier asks MC to read some poetry to him, much to her surprise. She soon realizes a book of poems isn't as innocent as it sounds. Approx 1600 words.

Written for the Ikemen Prince Gift Exchange! This is for @aquagirl1978

Chevalier regarded the former Belle and future queen with a bland expression. She was still explaining her idea for a family picnic and how she might include everyone -

“I think it would be easy enough to convince Yves and Licht, of course, and Clavis would show up just to cause chaos but Nokto is so hard to pin down!” Her eyes were bright with determination, showing a glint of the steel in her soul. “I was thinking of putting some perfume on his invitation - not mine, of course! And lipstick?”

He didn’t care whether or not she held her picnic, though he had no doubt she would. And every one of his brothers would be there, because she knew how to ask them. She’d grown into her position in the palace. Emissary of the Brutal Beast. The King’s common lover. Keeper of his library, and his heart. Chevalier found his lips curling into a small smile.

“Did you think of something for Sariel? I can’t pull him away from his work for even an hour and -”

“Come.” Chev stood and held out his hand. When she took it, he still felt her warmth prickle along the nerves of his arm and speed his beating heart. He didn’t think he would ever get used to the love in her eyes nor the simple trust she placed in him. His calloused hand cupped her small, soft fingers gently as if she were blown glass.

She said nothing as he led her out of the library and into the garden. Late summer brought out the riotous colors, every plant weighted with heavy-headed blossoms. But it was only when they came within sight of the rose-entwined gazebo that she made a noise. Soft, breathy. A sigh just on the edge of hearing.

Roses in scarlet and crimson twined about the wood structure, curling up the columns and hanging in vermillion boughs at every opening. The air was scented with their perfume and even the light took on a pink tinge within the confines of that place.

Chevalier’s heartbeat faltered a moment as the sound she made brought back a tumble of memories. Her parted lips, heavy-lidded gaze, soft breasts in the glow of afternoon sun. The feel of her skin beneath him. Perfect recall was not always a strength, he thought, mildly chagrined.

He led her to the wood bench beneath the awning, a hidden spot, a favorite place to go and read without being disturbed. “Sit.”

She sat down beside him, her smile more beautiful to him than the curtain of roses around them. There was no blossom to compare. “Thank you for showing me this, Chevalier. I get so caught up in palace stuff that I forget to enjoy being here.”

His snort of laughter was soft and not unkind.

She nestled into his side with a happy sigh.

“Here.” He fished his newest acquisition from an inner pocket. The slim volume had no title painted on the leather cover, nor an author’s name. “Read to me.” Chevalier kissed her temple, inhaling the scent of her.

“Mmm. Alright. What page are you on?” She raised an eyebrow, expectantly.

“I have not begun it yet.” Her little gasp of surprise pushed his smile wider. “I thought to save it for you. Something to share.” He could feel the way her pulse sped at his words. The effect of such a small gesture of affection. Chevalier loved her reactions.

She opened the book, flipping past the title page and the list of contributing authors. Eager to get to the meat of it, so to speak. “Ok. Umm, this one is . . . Come Slowly, Eden? It looks like - poetry?” Her head tilted to better regard him.

“I like poetry. Sometimes.” He couldn’t help the slight, teasing tone to his voice. “Go on.”

“Right. So -

Come slowly – Eden! Lips unused to Thee – Bashful – sip thy Jessamines – As the fainting Bee – Reaching late his flower, Round her chamber hums – Counts his nectars – Enters – and is lost in Balms.”

She paused, read back through it again, her eyes tracing the lines, fingertips light on the edges of the pages. “Chevalier . . . is this love poetry?”

“Is it?” He raised an eyebrow. “Continue. Your question is better answered by the text.” Chev pulled her tight against his hip, settling his arm around her shoulders.

“I had no idea.” She laughed. “Love poems. And you’ll remember every single line?”

“Of course, simpleton. Stop delaying.”

“Mhmmm.” She was flushed slightly now, her cheeks warm. “Next then.” She flipped the page, scanning the text with her eyes.

“Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon, dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light, what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars? -” She paused, scanning all the way down the page now, gaze flitting from line to line, lips parted in mute surprise before she mumbled - “Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity, your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages, and a-”

Her breath trembled as she read and re-read the text. “Ah, let’s - let’s pick a different one, hm?”

“You don’t like that one?” His fingertip traced the edge of her ear.

“Chevalier!” She threw him a glare, though she knew he could see right past her faux-outrage.

“Pick another, then.” He watched as she thumbed through the pages, her eyes going wider with each printed line of dark ink. She didn’t seem likely to stop on one. Her shyness, even after all this time, amused him. As if there were any poems in this book more erotic than the love they made. “That one,” he chose for her.

She squirmed a moment and then surrendered. “You don’t even know if you like this one.”

“I will know after you read it.” He rested his chin atop her head.

“Whatever happens with us, your body will haunt mine—tender, delicate your lovemaking . . .”

Her breath was shallower than usual, and he could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. How silly and precious she was, this lover of his. Chevalier eased her onto his lap, enjoying the solid warmth of her pressing against him.

“Mmm . . .” She gave him a look that said she knew all too well he was teasing, but that she planned to go along with it.

“like the half-curled frond of the fiddlehead fern in forests just washed by sun.”

Chevalier let his lips find the edge of her ear. Brushing her skin lightly there, his breath ghosting across her cheek.

“I - I can’t concentrate when you do that. I thought you wanted me to read?” She wriggled defiantly, knowing exactly the effect such a motion would have on him.

He bit back the breathy groan and gave her the iciest look he could muster. “Read.”

The slight curl of her lips told him she was well aware of her effect, noise or no.

“Your traveled, generous thighs between which my whole face has come and come— the innocence and wisdom of the place my tongue has found th- there—”

Her stuttering was more the effect of his teeth grazing her neck, than the text, he thought. Her skin was salty-sweet, a slight bitter tang from her perfume, sweat, and the deliciousness of her.

She tried to ignore his touch, but focusing on the sensual language was no help. Her voice quavered as she read on.

“the live, insatiate dance of your nipples in my mouth— your touch on me, firm, protective, searching me out . . .”

Her entire face was hot now, and she licked the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue.

The gesture made Chevalier want to kiss her. “Is that the last line?” He knew it was not. He could see the page easily enough and had already learned the words by heart.

“No but . . . Chevalier . . . it’s -” She gestured to the book helplessly.

“Read it to me.” He spoke the words against her skin. His rasping voice sent a trembling pleasure through her and she bit her lip in rebellion to it.

Her expression was one of internal conflict. The desire to give in to his demands and her natural defiance. “Alright. Here,

your strong tongue and slender fingers reaching where I - I -”

Chevalier smiled as she stumbled over the final lines. Her breath was thready with excitement, and her heart sped faster still. He loved seeing her like this, nearly undone by a few words and light touches. Her reaction had nearly undone him as well. Though he hid it well - no blushing or gasping breath for him - his pulse was racing too, and a certain tension coiled in him. “Go on.”

She cleared her throat,

“I had been waiting years for you in my rose-wet cave—whatever happens, this is.”

Her eyes read over the words again, tracing the ink with her fingertip.

He lifted her hand from the page and kissed the tip of her finger, his lips and tongue and teeth tasting her. From one finger to another, her palm, her wrist. Chevalier wanted to devour her whole. To strip her here, in this blossom bower and love her with every part of him until every part of her was claimed. He nearly shook with restraint as he let go of her hand.

“Chevalier.” His name said with equal parts love and desire. She turned to face him, her fingers traced the line of his jaw. Brushed his lower lip, satin on velvet. Then she kissed him, soft and hungry.

His arms went around her, pulling her closer. Heat like an August sun beneath the ice of his exterior burst through him. The moment stretched, shared breath and the possessive tangle of limbs and lips, tongues and teeth. Sighs stained the close-held air, petal-soft caresses kept secret by the gallery of roses.

Come Slowly, Eden by Emily Dickinson

Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moon by Pablo Neruda

The Floating Poem, Unnumbered by Adrienne Rich

#ikemen prince gift exchange #ikemen prince #ikepri chevalier #chevalier michel #spicy #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys

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criminalmindswhore · 7 months

Text

Family Affair - The Smile of a Child

TW: the word whore, child abuse, past relationships, murder, violence, adultery

Authors Note: The title of each of the chapters is a song title, happy listening.

PS: This chapter is named after the song Reid played with the little boy in an episode.

There was an awkward tension in the air as we exited the room and into the hallway. She stopped out of sight from my sister, but not the team. She turned and looked at me arms crossed, "Y/N, we haven't spoken since that night and I need to clear the air." You fidgeted with your hands not looking at her. You took a calming breath trying to force the tears in your eyes away. You looked up at the light and blinked a few times. "I'm sorry Amber, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just needed a clean cut from this place, obviously, it didn't work but I never planned on coming back here," you spoke as calmly as possible, memories of that day ringing in your ears. "You didn't need to end it that way, but I'm sure you know that now. We've both grown and matured." She chuckled at the stupid ways you both had as teenagers. You didn't speak, eyes still fixed on the ground. "Y/N look at me please," she pleaded knowing it was the only way to get you to talk to her.

Spencer saw the two of you and noticed your body language, "Emily, is there Y/N okay?" Emily turned on the desk she was propped on to look at you, she knew you probably had a lot of ghosts here. She noticed how you fidgeted, and how small you looked. She's never seen you so small, "I'm sure it's probably about her parents." She had an inkling it was more but she didn't want to assume. Spencer nodded before continuing on about the statistics of murders in small towns like yours. Emily tried to focus on him, but she was worried about you.

"Amber I said horrible things to you that night. You didn't deserve any of that. I was angry at my parents, at the world, at everything. I didn't want you to be here anymore either, or Kate," You paused to look away from her eyes for a moment to keep from crying, guilt washing over you. "I'm sorry I called you that." The word rang in your head louder than the station's noise and clatter, whore whore whore whore whore. "I forgave you a long time ago, that's what I wanted to tell you Y/N. We were kids, you were leaving your sister in an impossible situation. Y/N I think that's why he took their," she didn't want to say it, so you nodded, "Should I tell them or you?" You smiled, she always knew how hard it was for you to talk about it. It made you feel a little warm knowing after all this time and change, she still knew you somehow. "I can tell them, just be there for me?" Amber smiled widely at you. She pulled you into a deep hug, shocking Emily. You hated being touched but you just sank into her grasp, resting your head in the crook of her neck. Emily watched as Amber's hands sat lower than friendly. A twang of pain hit her heart. You pulled from Amber wiping the stray tear that escaped, "Let me tell Kate that I'm going to go help the team. Could you call our grandmother to come be with her?" Amber was taken aback, "You're sure?" You shook away the chill that crept up your spine, "Yeah, I don't want her alone right now. Just because my relationship with the woman is ruined doesn't mean she's not still Kate's Nana."

"Alright, Y/N whenever you're ready." Hotch gave you a reassuring nod. You stood in front of the team, Amber beside you. They all sat around a table in the privacy of a conference room. You looked at their faces before starting. "I am going to tell you guys a lot of information so be ready. It's a lot and I know it won't change your perception of me. I trust you guys and it's vital for this case." They all nodded giving you reassuring looks. You opened up the can of worms you left untouched on a shelf for a decade, fuck this. Amber could sense your nervousness and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "My parents were horrible to Kate and I growing up. They were the kind of parents where nothing was good enough to please them. This led to a lot of screaming, belittling, and hitting. I remember one day in particular when I placed second in the state track meet. My parents were pissed and the second we got home all hell broke loose, they went off on me. My dad threw me into the fridge so hard it left a dent." The team looked at you with nothing but sadness and pain for you. You had to look away, "Amber, sorry, Detective Jones and I, think that's why the hands are gone. They can't hurt us anymore. That narrows it down a lot because barely anyone knew about it. Everyone knew my parents were strict with us, but every parent in this town is. You almost have to be with how easy it is to fall into bad habits." I winced remembering the summer I fell off the wagon and how hard Dad hit me when he found out. "Y/N, we need to know everyone who knew," Hotch spoke in a gentle tone, I nodded. Amber laid her hand on my shoulder, "I'm on that list." She stepped to stand closer to me, and Emily noticed immediately. The team took this information and started looking at the case again. You sat down at the table and wrote down 5 names,

1. Amber Jones

2. Gloria Y/L/N, your Nana

3. Mildred Jones, your Mom's best friend

4. Pastor Brown, the pastor at your church

5. Paul Brooks, your Dad's best friend

Hotch took the list and stepped out to call Garcia. The rest of the team left you alone with Amber, you just sat there still and quiet. Amber sat in the chair beside you and grabbed your hand. It felt natural to have her comfort you again, you missed her, but not in the way she obviously missed you. You let her comfort you though, you were allowed to be selfish right now, right?

Just as you felt yourself coming back to the ground, your Nana walked into the station demanding to see you. Your world felt so odd, 10 years ago you left this place with no intentions of returning and now you were about to speak to Gloria. You let go of Amber's hand and walked out of the room. The second she saw you, she ran to you throwing her arms around you, "Oh sweetie I missed you." You didn't hug her back. Her whole demeanor shifted when she saw Amber follow you out of the room. She let go of you and readjusted her purse on her shoulder, "I see you still haven't come to your senses." Her voice was full of venom. "Gloria, please not now. Please." You pleaded with her, the death of your parents was enough, you didn't need her homophobia. She stared into your eyes, you looked hollow. She left you alone and went to search for Kate. Amber patted your back before following her to question her. Emily was quick to take her place, but never touched you. You were grateful. She smiled at you, "Wanna go get some air?" You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. "Yes please, I didn't think this would be so much for me." She followed your lead out of the doors and out into the sunshine.

The town was quiet, with a few people walking their dogs. You started down the block knowing this place like the back of your hand. Emily stuck her hand in her back pockets. You took a deep breath smelling the town you had not missed for one single second, "I never thought I would be on this street again. Nothing ever happens here." Emily's interest peaked, "Nothing?" You giggled, "A couple of teenagers caught in the backseat of some vandalism, but never this." You turned to look at her over your shoulder, "The last murder was in 1974, a wife caught her husband cheating and chopped off his you know what." Emily laughed out loud, "Sounds like he deserved it." Your mouth hung open before you smacked her arm, "Emily Prentiss! You can't say things like that!" You laughed, and Emily smiled widely at you. "There's that laugh." You came to a stop outside the local sports bar and turned around to stand in front of her. She always had a way to make you feel better, Amber just made you feel everything more. Emily was the light in your dark, dark mind, "Thank you for taking me out of there. I feel like I can breathe. My Nana and I haven't spoken in 10 years." Emily's brows furrowed, "That's the first time you've called her Nana and not Gloria." Your smile faltered, "Yeah, I always wanted a relationship with my grandparents but after they found out about Amber and I kissing at church, that wasn't a possibility. They even tried to send me away." Emily shivered, knowing the pain. "You're not alone Y/N, ever. You can always talk to me, I might relate more than you know." Your eyes snapped to hers, a pain now visible in them. "Em-" "Y/N, it's okay. I'm okay." She knew you were going to apologize, Amber could never guess what you were going to say. You gave her a small smile. "Ready to head back?" You shook your head, pulling her into the sports bar, "You have to try Paul's wings. Honestly, it's probably the only thing I can think about eating. I ate her almost every night after getting yelled at by my dad." Emily laughed at you being excited over wings.

"Paul!" You leaned against the bar, Emily standing beside you. A goofy smile on her face at how you went from crying to smiling. "Y/N! Welcome back kiddo!" A burly man appeared from the back and came around the bar wrapping you in a bear hug, the kind of hug a dad gives you. He kept his hands on your shoulders and looked at your face, concern written all over his expression, "How are you doing Goose?" Emily quirked her eyebrows, "Goose?" You laughed and looked at her, "I had a tendency to attack unprovoked when I was a kid because I was always angry, for obvious reasons." You turned back to Paul, "I'm doing okay. Being back here has been the worst part honestly. I never wanted to come back and now I'm gonna see every familiar face due to the circumstances." You wiped your hands on your pants, Paul sensed your closed-off manners and went back behind the bar. "Do you want your usual?" Your jaw dropped, "There's no way you remember my order Paul it's been 10 years." He laughed and you two spoke at the same time, "6 buffalo wings with tot and extra ranch. No celery." All 3 of you laughed. This sense of familiarity felt like a breath of fresh air in a place it's hard to breathe. Paul disappeared into the kitchen and Emily tapped your shoulder, "Are we splitting 6 wings?" Shit. "Paul make it 12 wings!" He shouted back in the affirmative. "Sorry, my head is everywhere." You gave her a nervous smile, "Y/N, don't apologize for anything right now. There is a lot going on right now, you are here of all of places." She grabbed your hand, her skin as soft as feathers. You gave her a thankful smile.

After scarfing down your wings you and Emily returned to the station where things were heating up. You walked in to see your grandma yelling at Hotch. "I don't care what you're saying, your actions are showing agents not doing anything." You sighed and approached them, standing beside Hotch making it very clear what side you were on here. "Gloria, it takes time to figure out who it is. We can't just go and question every single person in this town, it could spook whoever did this into fleeing or acting out. For your safety, this team's safety, and the safety of innocent people, we have to take more time figuring out who to talk to," Her face fell and she stared into you, "Please, go back with Kate and wait. I know it's frustrating, I know it seems like we aren't making progress but we are the best at what we do." Gloria took a ragged breath and stormed off. "Hotch I'm sorry, she's a pain." Hotch rubbed your shoulder, in the most boss way possible, "Don't worry about it. Why don't you and JJ go talk to Kate and ask if she's noticed anything going on? Reid and Rossi are at the scene right now."

"Kate, have you noticed anything weird going on with the parents?" Kate shook her head, "No, they've been doing the same routine. No new names or faces." JJ spoke up, "Has there been someone they weren't close with in the past that they've been seeing more recently?" Kate looked up at you, "Um, yeah. Amber was at the house last week." You looked out the window at her, "Did they ever say why?" JJ's voice was soft, "They said she was looking for Y/N for them, trying to figure out where she worked now. They used her to keep up to date with her." A chill ran down your spine, why did they care all of a sudden? They could've just called. JJ looked at you, "Y/N do you think she could be responsible for this?" You looked back at her, "No, she wouldn't hurt a fly." She never even hated you for what you did. "Kate, have you noticed a shift in behavior in any of your parent's friends?" Paul immediately came to mind. Paul was the only one of their friends who ever saw an issue with how they treated you two. "Paul, my dad's best friend got really distant when I moved out. It was almost like he put on a front with them until Y/N and I both moved out." You smiled at Kate, trying to comfort knowing it's not easy to talk about their parents in general, but especially now. "Okay, Kate one more question. Did your parents have any work done on the house and have people in and out?" Kate nodded, "They were renovating the upstairs rooms. Dad wanted an office and Mom wanted a craft room. They had people in and out for a couple of weeks now." JJ stood up, "Thank you, Kate." JJ left the room, you sat there for a moment lingering. "Y/N, can you be honest with me? Do you think this was a stranger?" You sighed, "No." You left the room and met with the rest of the team in the conference room. "This wasn't a stranger and I hate to say it but I think it was Paul." Your tone was cold, with no emotion in your voice. It made the whole team look at you with concern, "Please don't, I am fine." Morgan went to speak, "Derek, don't." You picked at your fingers. "Okay, Paul?"

After hours and hours of looking at Paul's movement the day your parents died, Hotch sent you away to go rest. The team wasn't going to rest until they solved this, but Hotch knew it was an emotional day for you. "Hotch I'm fine." He raised an eyebrow at you, "Go find a couch, go take a a nap." Emily butt in after him, "I promise, I'll wake you if anything happens." You knew by the way she and Hotch looked at you, that you were not going to win this. You peeked in on Kate who was sleeping before finding a couch in the corner. Amber soon found you, "Do you need a blanket?" You lay down and shook your head. She left you alone but not before she rubbed your head for a moment. The comfort felt nice but it wasn't the person you wanted to comfort you.

You wanted Emily. Almost as if you were thinking out loud, she appeared. Sitting by your feet, "Do you need anything?" She had the sweetest look in her eyes and you felt yourself warm up from it alone, "Can you hold my hand?" She nodded and adjusted to sit comfortably around you, she grabbed your hands and traced shapes with her other. The warmth from her hand and her perfume brought you enough comfort to close your eyes. She whispered something as you fell asleep, but you couldn't hear her as exhaustion took over.

You woke up to Reid calling your name, "Y/N we found something but we need your help." You shot up immediately and found the team standing around the corner. "Y/N did Paul ever mention a relationship with your mother?" You came to a full stop, "What? Like an affair?" Morgan nodded. "I mean I don't think Paul would do that, but my mom having an affair wouldn't be surprising. Paul is one of the best people, I've always loved and trusted him." Reid shifted, his tell. "What did you find?" You glared at him, he would be the easiest to break. "We found pictures on an online forum of Paul and your mom kissing in the sports bar." Decades of trust you've built with that man shattered. "Mom cheated?" Kate spoke from behind you, Gloria beside her. You didn't even turn to face them, "Yeah, she did." Gloria cursed, "That whore, cheating on my son." Your jaw tightened. "Don't call her that." Gloria took a step towards you, you could feel everyone's eyes on you. "What was that?" You finally turned to face her, "Don't call her a whore. Your son abused all 3 of us. He got so into her head that she started hurting us too. God forbid she have an ounce of happiness before she died." She was silent, she knew you were right. "Kate let's go get some food." She walked out, Kate following behind her. Emily laid a hand on your shoulder, "We know Paul didn't kill them now Y/N. He wouldn't kill the woman he was with." You nodded.

You looked at Hotch, "I think Amber killed them." You spoke quietly so that none of the officers overheard you. He crossed his arms over his chest and thought for a second, "Everyone in the room, Y/N explain."

#emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #criminalmindsxreader #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #derek morgan

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ohtomatotome · 3 months

Text

It's You. You're My Kink.

Recipient: @kokorokai as part of the ‘My Ikémen Valentine' Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary

Characters: (Ikemen Prince) Clavis Lelouch and MC/Emma. Established relationship

Recipient’s Request: 🌶 NSFW content with a dominant Clavis

Premise: He knows she knows his weakness is alcohol and his fetish is her thighs. But he doesn't know her weaknesses, fetishes, kinks, or fantasies. It's time to force some sexy secrets out of his lovely lover. Written from Clavis’s PoV.

Content Tags: consensual, soft dom, cunnilingus, sensory play, blindfold, light bondage/restraints, ropes, temperature play, spanking/impact play, anal toys, dildo, vibrators, ball gag, orgasm control, edging, begging, praise.

Word count: 7,500

Author's Notes are at the end of the story.

TITLE: It's You. You're My Kink.

Emma unwrapped the gift box and took out a skein of lavender shibari rope and leather wrist restraints. There was a pause as she held them in her hands before giving me a dubious glance.

Oh? Already wary, are we? Heh, heh.

“I’d make a guess that you are inviting me to be your ‘lovely accomplice’ in setting up traps, but … Clavis, this … is not your usual rope for traps. And this.” She dangled the cuff from her fingers, “isn’t usually part of your traps, either. I’d hope, anyway?!?” A strained giggle, paired with her eyebrows pulled up together in confusion made an exquisite reaction.

Ah, well, let me spell it out so she’s not taken unawares when the fun begins tomorrow.

“What’s that? You say you would love to enjoy some alone time with your handsome prince? And you give your consent for some kinky fun? Oh, Emma, I’m so happy you decided to accept my invitation!”

I noticed her eyes widened at the mention of ‘kinky’. Oh ho.

My meaningful gaze bore down on her and I gave her my most wicked smirk.

“Oh! Oh, that’s what this is about? Clavis, your ruses and … gifts always make me second-guess myself. At first I thought it had to do with something sexy, but that’s not usually your style to be so obvious, so I was stumped.” This time, Emma’s giggle was adorably genuine.

The smirk still firmly in place, I waited a moment for her to continue. For her to give the answer I was certain of. For her to say ‘yes’.

But she only just looked at me, mild amusement on her face and nothing else coming out of her pretty mouth.

Well.

I cleared my throat, “Aaaaand, my lovely lover? What is your answer? Do you give me your consent to try all manner of delicious deviant deeds this weekend?”

At this, her perfect cheeks turned a ripe shade of strawberry pink.

Hm, yes that’s more like it.

She asked, “...all manner? Like what?”

Just as I was about to open my mouth and give her a most ambiguous answer, she hurriedly spoke again.

“Nevermind! I don’t think I want to know ahead of time. I trust you. Yes, darling, you have my consent for … kinky things.” Her hesitation towards the end came with downcast eyes and even redder cheeks.

Excellent, excellent.

I clapped my hands once in triumph, crowing, “Wonderful! You can leave all the travel preparations to me. All you need to do is pack your own bag.”

I leaned forward so my face filled her view, and pitched my voice lower and with seriousness, without a trace of my usual flamboyance, “Listen closely.”

She stiffened at this unfamiliar tone, curious eyes never once leaving mine.

“This is what you will pack: 4 pairs of panties and bras, your most comfortable robe, and the new corset you will find in your bottom dresser drawer. That is all. You don’t need anything else to wear on this trip. Nod if you understand.”

Emma hesitated, looking as if she had a question to ask, but then nodded. A timid smile was creeping across her lips.

I wanted very much to kiss it off her face, and then keep kissing her until we were both breathless.

Instead, I kept my composure and merely said, “Good girl. Be ready to go in the morning. Good night, and sweet dreams. I love you.”

After a kiss to her forehead – mm-hmm, her hair smelled heavenly – I stood up to leave.

“Uh- um, good night, darling. I love you, too.”

I closed the door and inhaled deeply. Why did no one warn me that practicing dominance meant that you also were to be exercising extreme self-control on yourself?? Augh!

I had seen a heated glimmer in her eyes, something I’m sure was not there before I gave her her packing orders.

Good. Good.

The experiment was off to a smashing start. I had intended to begin the kink level low, even before we reached my manor. This first part was intended to dictate her actions. By commanding what she must pack, my words and presence would continue to be with her as she is packing. She’ll be thinking about me all night and morning, long before she even sees me in the carriage. Every time she looks at her suitcase, she’ll be reminded of my strong tone of voice.

I wonder if she liked that experience tonight?

Emma liked it. Liked it very, very much. She sat on the sofa for a good long while, savoring the intimidating and arousing aura that Clavis had directed at her. It was so new!

When she finally pulled out the corset he had mentioned, she swallowed hard. This wasn’t a pretty lace and satin thing of lingerie. It was leather, well-stitched and expertly made for durability and comfort. It was an elegant shade of lilac, with an almost pearlescent sheen. Beautiful, actually. There were buckles and straps, metal eyelets and rings attached at various places that had nothing to do with the closures.

Now that she looked at it with a critical eye, the row of three black and gold straps across the front mimicked Clavis’s short uniform coat. She bit back a chuckle at her fiance's audacity before setting to work with packing only the essentials he had mentioned, all the while her imagination filled with images of him.

“Stand here. Don’t move from this spot.”

We had reached my manor without incident, and I immediately went to work on my experiment to discover Emma’s hidden kinks. I removed my white overcoat, boots, and scabbard, placing them on the bench by the bedroom door. Watching her as I loosened the buttons of my lilac jacket and returned in a slow stroll, I noticed she was clutching nervously at her skirt. But she never took a step.

“Should I take off my clothes, too?” Her question was touched with anxiety.

“No,” I cooed, “You only need to do what I tell you to. For right now, place your feet a little further apart so you have better balance. Yes, like that. Well done.”

I delivered my praise with a light caress to her temple. I was pleased to see the glow of warmth was back in her exquisite eyes. My bunny must be liking this already. I wonder what is going on inside that brilliant mind of hers right now?

I slid the dark violet cravat off my collar and stepped around behind her. Silently, I tied it around her head as a blindfold. Only when I was certain it was secure and she couldn’t see, did I lean in close to her ear to whisper huskily, “First: a little sensory deprivation to heighten your other senses.”

She flinched at my nearness, but relaxed soon enough. Next it was time for the wrist cuffs. These were a thing of beauty, crafted by the same skilled leather worker who built Emma’s custom corset. They were made of white leather with padding on the inside and edges, adjustable buckle, and reinforced D-rings. Expertly designed to my specifications.

I gracefully slid my palm down from her shoulder to her wrist, stopping there to encircle her delicate wrist within my thumb and forefinger. Just a moment, just long enough to give her a hint of what was coming. I put one cuff on that wrist, tightening the strap until it was almost flush to her skin. “Tell me: Is that too tight?”

She shook her head. I saw it, but this wouldn’t do. Had she forgotten already?

I tapped her lips with my gloved finger. “Use your words, darling. You must answer out loud when I ask you a question. Now try again: Is this too tight?”

“No. …sir.” The second word was added with apprehension, as if she wasn’t sure she should use the term or not.

Sir?

Hm. I certainly didn’t order her to call me that. Had she read such things in her romance novels? I didn’t want her thinking of those fictional men when I’m right here. Hm. Hmmmm. No. No, I didn’t like it. She needed to call me by my name, dammit.

I held her chin with my thumb to get her attention. “Listen closely: You are to call me Clavis. Not ‘sir’, not ‘master’, not anything else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Clavis,” her answer was confident now.

Good. Very good.

I let go of her chin and put on the other wrist cuff, then snapped the rings of both cuffs together so her hands were bound in the front. She still would have the use of her hands. The object of the cuffs was to give her a small taste of being restrained while I tease the rest of her body.

The next thing was a ball gag. I had made sure to choose the most breathable, most comfortable one intended for beginners. Despite those precautions, I was still worried she might find this item repulsive. Positioning it in front of her mouth, but still an inch away, I warned her, “I have something to put in your mouth. It’s meant to stay there and keep you from talking. If you don’t like how it feels, use the non-verbal sign on tapping me twice to remove it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Clavis.” My lovely fiance opened her mouth obediently.

Such a glorious sight. I wanted to fall to my knees and weep with joy.

But no. No. I must continue to be the one in control.

The Dom.

Right. Back to work.

I set the ball inside her mouth, ordering her to bite down slightly to hold it while I fastened the strap on the side of her head. I waited a moment while watching her face for any signs of discomfort or revulsion. There came none. Just placid trust and patience.

Oh, my sweet, sweet Emma. Well done. Very good. You're being so good for me.

This deserved a reward … which just happened to also be a test. I stepped close to her side, my chest touching her shoulder. My arms encircled her waist to hold her upright as my mouth came a hair-breadth away from her ear. I sighed softly, letting the warm air waft before I assaulted the shell of the ear with kisses, toothy nibbles, and noisy sucking. I didn’t let up until she was fully squirming and seemed unsteady on her feet. But not once did she safe-tap me to stop.

“Ah, your ear is so sensitive now, hm?” I whispered before flicking my tongue out to tickle her ear lobe.

She jerked her head away in surprise, but my arms kept her balanced. I chuckled breathily as her face relaxed and leaned towards me once again. I kissed her cheek, down her jaw, and the side of her neck.

Emma’s muted breathing grew heavier the lower my lips went. Where her blouse collar began I sucked and nipped to leave a splendid mark. I admired it a moment before moving my hands; one to grip the hair at the base of her neck, the other to slowly snake across her stomach and down, traveling over the waistband of her skirt.

I could feel her quiver under my touch, but still she stayed in place. Oh, I’m so proud of you, my sweetest. My hand fisted in her luscious tresses and pulled gently back and to the side so as to expose more of her pure neck to me. I gave a quick peck to the shell of her ear before trailing kisses down her neck again, this time focusing on the erogenous zone where the neck meets the shoulder.

Meanwhile, my other hand continued its journey downward over the beautiful swell of her abdomen, palming her pelvic mound. I pushed the tips of my fingers into the crevice at the apex of her thighs. This earned a shudder from her and a gasp muffled by the ball gag.

So delightful. So trusting. So mine. I love her more than words can say.

I glided my hand upwards to her bound wrists, holding them. My other hand had let go of her hair to settle at the small of her back.

Humming my approval, I pressed a little kiss to her cheek, “You did so well, darling. Such a good girl for me. Now, let’s make you more comfortable, hm?”

After removing the gag, cuffs, and blindfold, I led her to sit on the edge of the bed. She was flushed, but her eyes were bright with delight and curiosity as I knelt in front of her. My hands rubbed back and forth across the tops of her thighs, ruching up the fabric of her skirt.

“Tell me: How did you like the blindfold? The gag? The wrist cuffs?”

Each question was delivered with as calm a voice as I could muster, even though I was bursting at the seams with excitement to know if anything had her galloping with arousal.

She paused before answering, as if she wasn’t expecting to be reviewed on her experience. I smiled and narrowed my eyes.

“Come, come. I’m not looking for an in-depth analysis. Just let me know if any one thing in particular stood out as a favorite.”

Recognition lit her face, as if she had just come up with an answer. As she took a breath to reply, I began unbuttoning her blouse. This action stopped her before any words came out.

Heh, heh. I LOVE to keep her on her toes!

“Don’t mind me, darling. Simply multi-tasking while you talk. Go ahead, now. You were about to say the part you liked the best?” I flashed her an innocent smile, and began to kiss the notch of her throat, eager to keep kissing the skin I exposed while I continued unbuttoning.

She raised an eyebrow in skepticism, but spoke anyway, “I liked it when you gave me orders.”

I was in the process of leaning in to kiss the swell of her breast when this admission caught me by surprise.

Ah!

Darling… ah, my lovely lover. Now it is YOU who have shocked me. Of all the kinky equipment, it was the commands that turned you on the most?

I smiled into her skin as I sucked her nipple into my mouth, earning a responsive jolt and gasp from her. Oh, does she even know how much that answer pleases me?

I pulled away and nodded as sedately as I could, trying not to show how much her reply affected me. “Hm, I see. Thank you for the feedback, dearest. Now, let us continue the experiment, shall we?”

She quirked her eyebrow once more, but I offered no explanation as I finished undressing her and ordered her to lie face-down on the bed. I ran a knuckle lightly over her shoulder blades, murmuring “good girl” as she got comfortable.

The second set of implements were intended to expose her to various temperatures and sensations. I was most interested in the last part of this section: impact play. Would my bunny enjoy being spanked, I wonder?

Over the next few minutes, I subjected her unblemished skin to an ice cube melting over the curve of her buttocks, melted wax dripped down her spine, feathers tickling her rib cage, softest cashmere rubbing up the backs of her creamy thighs, and rubberized mitts dagging over her hips. All the while, I gave her orders to either be silent, or be vocal. To either keep still or to wriggle and writhe.

During the use of the equipment, one of the commands I gave her was to “respond as honestly as you can, however you wish.”

And what was her adorable answer? “No, please, Clavis. Tell me what to do, what to say. Please?”

I couldn’t help but grin broadly at that, glad she could not see how thrilled I was at her plea. Of course I never let her know my joy. Instead, I bent down so my lips were next to her ear, and she twitched from hearing my threatening tone so close to her, “What’s this? Disobedience? Are you telling me what to do?”

She was quick to shake her head, uttering “Nuh-uh. No. I just … I, um… Sorry? I’ll do my best.”

I straightened up and patted her head proudly. “That’s a good girl.”

It was so cute seeing this new side of her! It seemed as if she was truly enjoying herself in this role.

We continued, eventually getting to the impact play portion. I propped her hips up on several pillows so her gorgeous ass was raised high, perfectly poised for my hand.

I noticed a slight glistening of liquid at the lips between her legs.

Hm. Nice. I hadn’t even touched her there yet.

I hadn’t warned her what was coming next. As I was rummaging through my case for the leather paddle, she ventured a timid question, “Clavis? Are you going to fuck me now? Is that why you stacked all these pillows under me?”

“So soon? Oh, no. Not yet, my lovely. Before we can get to that, we have so many more experiments to try.” I saturated my voice with wicked pleasure.

Her head dropped to the mattress, letting out a groan of immense disappointment.

I chuckled, “Oh, don’t sound so discouraged. I thought you were having fun. But …” I paused, inflecting my next words with dramatic self-pity, “... if you’re getting annoyed with me and wish to stop and go back to your books, I’ll understand.”

Emma snorted with amusement. I could sense the frustrated eye-roll she was giving me. “No. ….Ugh, no. Don’t – “ she huffed, pausing a second as if she needed to recollect her submissive act. “PLEASE don’t stop, Clavis. Please?”

I was more than happy to oblige her eager entreaty. She was scrumptious when she acted like this: wanton for me to fill her, but pliant enough to go along with my schemes. I was rock-hard already, my already tight white pants made all the tighter.

“Mm-hm, you asked so nicely. I suppose I could continue.” I rested my gloved hand on her soft bottom, to hint at what was coming. “This next part may be a little intense, darling. So please remember to use the safe-word if you need me to stop. Okay?”

She meekly answered, “Yes, Clavis, I understand.”

“That’s my girl.” I began slowly tapping her butt cheeks lightly, alternating randomly between sides. Then increased the tempo. Then the force, just a bit.

Her ass was slightly pink. Like a peach. Mmmm… so juicy, I could take a bite of that velvety flesh. Fuuuuuck, I want her now.

No.

Not yet.

I removed my gloves and ran my hands soothingly over the skin, reveling in the warmth and softness, trying to rein myself in.

She hadn’t made a sound until my bare palm met her skin – that’s when Emma gave a happy fluttering sigh, like the releasing of doves.

Oh, my sparkling jewel. My beautiful bride-to-be. My everything. How can one exhale from you do such things to my soul?

I took a deep breath and pulled my hand back, aiming for the next series of spankings. Each got progressively harder and closer to her center, near her lips. Droplets of clear nectar dotted the pillows beneath her. It coated my hand more and more as I slapped her pussy. But still she only moaned. She gave no signs of pain or reaching her limit. Marvelous.

I stopped to wipe my sticky hand on a towel, rewarding her with a low-pitched “You’re such a good girl for me. Now, I’ll need you to count each spank, okay? Can you do that for me?”

There was an immediate nod and “Yes, Clavis!”

Again, my domineering posing was protected by her not seeing the big smile I wore. Honestly, I don’t think she had ever been this complaint before. And she seemed so happy to be in this role!

I decided to leave that pondering for a later time, as there was a perky red ass waiting to be slapped right now. I picked up the paddle, and slowly sounded out several hits to the globe of her cheeks, sweeping upwards to channel the force away. She counted as each one turned her skin darker, making it glow with heat.

I stopped my motions, using the cashmere to soothe her inflamed ass and offer a change in sensation.

“Very, very good, dearest.” I picked up an ice cube as I asked, “Now, time for more feedback. Which of these experiences did you like best?”

As if to remind her of where we started, I slid the ice over her buttocks to cool them down. She gasped and shrieked almost in the same breath, jerking her hips at the cold sensation. I kept the ice moving quickly, so as to disperse as much healing coolness as possible. It melted within seconds.

God, her cheeks were red and taut like a ripe plum. She looked good enough to eat.

Ah … That was an excellent idea.

It might be slightly ahead of schedule, but I needed to do SOMETHING to clean up that rivulet running down her inner thigh before it completely drenched the pillows.

She hadn’t answered my question yet.

Hm.

I knelt on the bed behind her and between her legs, gently spreading her thighs with my hands, getting ready to tease her entrance with my tongue as soon as she started speaking.

“Tsk, tsk, I asked a question. You need to answer. Now.”

Emma began, “Well, I re–EEEE! Ah, mmmm!”

I had lapped ravenously at her juices, rejoicing at the lewd sounds it made. And at her own vocal additions, too, of course. I loved her squeals, her moans, her gasps, her groans.

I pulled away just long enough to give her a warning, the hungry growl in my voice not intentional, “Answer, Emma,” before diving back in to finish cleaning her up.

I could get drunk on how she tasted, how she smelled. The musky fragrance filled my lungs. How much longer could I hold out before needing to have her?

She managed to eek out a few words, no semblance of formal sentence structure to be found. Something along the lines of, “Commands. You, your touch. With orderssss. ….f-force me. Love spanking. Pleeeeease, please…. More, more control.”

Those were the words I was able to make out between the whines.

Hm.

She wants to be controlled more? That fit well into my next set of plans.

I petted her hair fondly as I gave her time to come down from the stimulation. “Very well, my lovely fiance. You’ve done so well for me. I think you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

She turned her head my way and dared a glance up. I knelt next to the bed so she wouldn’t have to strain her neck to see me. Her face was beet-red, eyes moist and dreamy, a sleepy smile on her lips. She had caught her breath by now.

“I am. Oh, I am, Clavis. But …” She bit her lip, eyes sliding away from mine.

I knew that look. I LOVED that look. She wanted something, but was feeling foolish for asking. I wanted to pull the truth out of her. Tease it gently, unravel it thread by thread until her innermost wishes were laid bare, safe and vulnerable in my hands.

I began to stroke her hair again, and her eyelids immediately fell shut in contentment. Soft as a summer breeze, I asked “But what, my love? You must tell me, or I’ll never know.”

Her relaxed features twisted suddenly in annoyance, eyes no longer moony but now flashing with sparks. I stopped petting her, doing my best to keep a look of total innocence on my face.

Of course I knew what she wanted.

I wanted it, too.

But not yet.

…Not. Yet.

“Clavis. I want you to make love to me. You already know; I said it before. Please? Don’t … don’t make me ask for it again.”

“Ohhhh, that. Hm,” my tone was non-committal, teasing. I leaned in to kiss her temple, smiling where she couldn’t see me. “Don't worry, I will satisfy you completely. In due time, in due time. But before that can happen, there are just a few more experiences I need you to have, and then review.”

I was being an absolute villain. I was pushing the bounds of her patience.

Would she angrily stomp out of here, cursing my name?

Or would she remain, but grow sullen and cold to my touches?

A plaintive whine left her throat, surprising me. Emma's gaze smoldered, the fiery frustration giving way to a simmering desire. And there was something else in her face … was it uncertainty? She reached out to grip my wrist, a silent request.

What was this about? Was she unwell after all? For a moment, my mask slipped. Concern pinched my brows. My voice was naked, forgetting to dress up in neither dominance nor feigned innocence, “Emma? Are you really okay with continuing?”

She must have sensed my seriousness, because she squeezed my wrist in reassurance before letting go as she nodded. “Yes, truly. I’m sorry if I made you worry. I only whined because … because I am so SO ready for you, and I don’t want to wait any longer. But most of all, I don’t want to beg. And it … it feels like you are pushing me to the brink in hopes of making me beg, like I’m some dog,” her pretty mouth turned down in disgust, “Is that what you are doing? Please, be honest, just this once, no tricks. What is your aim in all these sexy experiments?”

Ah.

So this is something new I have learned about her. Fascinating.

“Sweetest. Darling. I admit I am trying to find out your limits for certain things, but not the boundary you’d cross for begging. My aim, hm? I promise I’ll tell you when all the tests are done. So you keep your pleas unspoken, I do not want you to beg. I only want your honest reactions. I won’t leave you unfulfilled.”

“Promise? I feel like you’re teasing me much more than usual.” A pout began to form on her luscious lips.

“I promise.” I brushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear and pressed another kiss to her temple before standing up. “Now, let’s have you sit up so I can put one little thing on you before you lie on your back.”

My goodness, what a glorious sight.

Was there any man on this earth as lucky as me, to be blessed with seeing his lovely lover trussed up, spread out, and waiting in complete trust? I stood back to take in the full view, and swallowed hard.

I had taken great delight in lacing her up in the custom-made corset, seeing the leather pulling taut against her breasts. Her wrists were back in the cuffs, attached to the headboard. One leg was bent at the knee, pulled back as far to her torso as was comfortable, and then bound in that position with the lavender rope. Her other leg was restrained at a similar angle in a white leather straps to match her cuffs (a gentleman makes sure his lady’s accessories always match), clipped to the rings in the side of her corset.

It was an uncoordinated sort of look, more slap-dash than I had originally planned. Also, I was irked at not getting to try out the nipple clamps, but they wouldn’t work at the same time as having her wear the corset.

Was I rushing the schedule?

Perhaps.

Was I loading up all the implements and toys in one go, instead of one at a time like I had originally planned?

Maybe.

Was it because I was hanging on to my self-control by a thread?

Yes.

Yes, absolutely.

I had been straining at the front of my trousers so tightly that I decided to remove them and everything else I was wearing.

“Comfortable, darling?” I asked as I walked around to the head of the bed once more. Emma eyed my erection greedily, licking her lips.

But she only said, “Yes, Clavis.”

Her voice was sweetly obedient. The sound of it made me proud enough to crow from the rooftops.

“Then let’s begin our last set of experiences. You asked for me to be even more controlling, so that’s exactly what I’ll be doing. Don’t forget to use the safe-word if you need to. Do keep in mind that I will be asking for feedback. So try to keep track of how everything I do makes you feel.”

I kissed her full on the mouth quickly – too quickly so she wouldn’t have time to reciprocate – then gave her a cheeky wink before strolling to the foot of the bed, where I had a tray waiting with lube and various toys, plugs, dildos, and vibrators.

Choices, choices.

Where to start?

I looked adoringly at the two holes presented to me: one inviting and glistening, the other shy and puckered closed. Hidden at the top of this sight was the precious little rosebud that led to the high-pitched squeals I loved so much.

Deciding to start out slow with minimal invasion, I lubed up the tiny anal probe vibrator and smeared a dollop at the entrance of her ass. I felt her shiver at the touch, yet I pushed in slowly, slowly with the tip of my finger until it was finally granted at admittance. Emma gasped. I slid the probe in next to my finger until it was all the way in where it needed to be. Then I moved my finger in and out slowly a few times to help that area relax, to get her familiar with the sensation.

When I pulled my finger out, I pressed a lubed-up anal plug to the entrance until it sunk in. There came a tiny groan from my lady love. The facets of the princess-cut amethyst at the end of the plug caught the light and twinkled at me. I couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction at the view. I decided right at that moment to buy her matching amethyst earrings made with the same exact cut. It would be our own little private joke when she wears them in public.

“Turning it on, my dove,” I crooned a warning before toggling the switch on the probe.

“Huh? Turning wha–aaAHH!” Her hips jolted off the bed as soon as the vibrator went to work in her pert little asshole.

Miniscule moans were uttered from the head of the bed as I began to prepare the next toy: a dildo with a harness that connected to her corset rings to keep in place, so it wouldn’t get pushed out in her exertion. It was needed since my hands would be busy elsewhere. No lube was needed for this one; she was already wet enough to have a pool gathering on the purple towel underneath her. I rubbed the head and shaft along her folds, coating it in her essence.

This earned an audible inhale from her; does she know how her sounds drive me mad with lust?

I pushed it in slowly, letting her adjust to the size. It was another custom-designed item, made especially for tonight. She hadn’t seen this dildo before, but if she had there would have been recognition in the length and girth, even the slight angle. Of course it was a product of my ego. But if she was going to have anything inside her besides me, then I wanted to be like me in every way possible.

Once it was in all the way up to the hilt, I pulled it out at a lazy drag asking, “Still feeling fine, sweetest?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed while wiggling her hips to bring back some friction. The restraints of leather and rope made this futile effort extremely entertaining. I gave her what she wanted: I thrust the toy in and out repeatedly at her favorite pace. The languid moans rose in frequency and pitch.

God, she was magnificent.

I. Needed. Her. Now.

I held onto my sanity long enough to thrust it in one last time before attaching it to the harness. A questioning whine came from her throat as she saw me move to the side of the bed with the tray. From her vantage point, she wouldn’t be able to see the vibrators I was going to use.

Okay, time to get into the role, Clavis.

You can do this.

This is the last big hurrah. Time to finish things up exactly how she’d like. With complete control.

I wonder: when she asked me to take more control, did she have any premonition that I’d be ending the experiment with edging and orgasm control?

I began to tease her clit with the lowest setting on the most gentle toy. Switched over to a powerful wand for an intense but short time. Then switched to an intermediate one, moving all the way through the speeds, gauging her reactions. I was careful to keep an ear to her breathing while watching the telltale signs of her hips.

All the while I was changing the toys to keep her on her toes, I was issuing commands. Things like: countdown from 5, stay silent, moan loudly, scream my name (that one was fun), keep still, don’t you dare cum yet, etc.

Each time she obeyed, I rewarded her with a “good girl” and a deep kiss. Sometimes I just kissed her through the exquisite trials of a particular vibrator. Other times I slowly massaged her sensitive bundle of nerves with my thumb, sometimes my tongue. I lavished attention on that treasure until her chest was heaving with exertion and the breathing was ragged.

I had lost count of the times I brought her almost up the edge and then brought her back down.

I moved all the vibrators aside and sat on the edge of the bed so she could see my face.

This goddess, this angel, was mine. Completely mine.

Sweat-soaked face, eyes glazed over with lust, lips dry from panting, hair a total mess.

She had never been lovelier.

And never once did she beg. No plea of “Just let me cum!” There had been plenty of cursing and saying my name as if it was a curse itself. Lots of delicious moaning, gasping, squealing, and sighing. But no begging.

Amazing. My Emma was simply amazing.

I let her catch her breath before I reached out to cup her cheek and ask, “Now, if you please, I would like some feed-”

…”CLAVIS.” Her hoarse voice was serious. As were her eyes.

I stopped talking immediately, my attention entirely on what she thought was important enough to interrupt our review. My elegant eyebrows lifted in silent inquiry.

“No feedback,” was all she said.

I echoed her, asking “No feedback?”

“No feedback,” she repeated.

“Care to elaborate, dearest?” I cooed while stroking the side of her face with my thumb.

“No.”

I started to panic a little. She hadn’t used the safe-word, so I had thought she was enjoying being endlessly edged to hell and back. Had I been wrong? Had I missed a cue? Did I hurt her, and she was just being brave? Was she angry with me?

Something resembling concern must have made it through my mask of dominance, for she sighed and added, “I’m not injured or sore. Maybe a little overstimulated. But I’m fine. I would have used the safeword if I had been unsure about continuing. So don’t look so worried, Clavis.”

Ah.

…okay.

I was flummoxed as to what made her so taciturn all of a sudden.

“You want your feedback, don’t you? Then you’ll get it. But only after you satisfy me.” That severe expression held no room for compromise.

I loved seeing her so serious. She was breathtaking. How I loved her!

As my lips began to curl into a pleased smile, she cut in with a demand of her own: “Fuck me, Clavis. Now.”

My smile froze.

Great heavens, she was irresistible like this.

I felt compelled to obey, even though I had been the one issuing commands all day. I attempted to remain smooth and masterful as I lowered my face within inches of hers.

Feigning nonchalance, I said, “I suppose I could make a compromise, since my lovely fiance is so desperate for me.”

She rolled her eyes, quirking her mouth into a wry expression. “Well, get on with it. I’m … I am – ugh, Clavis, don’t you … ?“

I forstalled her fumbling words by pressing a kiss to those pouting lips, giving her time to gather her words. Would she beg, I wonder?

At last she mumbled, “I need you. Don’t you … need me, too? Or is this teasing torture all you want?” Those tender eyes slid away from mine, downcast.

Arrows. To the heart. A barrage of steel-tipped bolts lodged in my chest, stealing my breath.

Oh, my precious. Had I made you doubt my desire for you?

She hadn’t begged or bargained after all. She hadn’t needed to. Not that I ever wanted her to. That hadn’t been my goal.

My goal.

Oh.

In the delicious taunting and torment, I had almost lost sight of why I started all this.

I wanted to find out her secret kinks, her guilty pleasures.

Sighing an apology, I hurriedly kissed her lips. “No, no, my sweetheart, my dove, my everything. Of course I need you. I’m sorry. The –”

–” then why –” she began.

I immediately rushed in with the explanation she deserved, – “because I wanted to discover what set you aflame. You already know I’m crazy about your thighs. And well, everything about you, truly. And you know all my weaknesses. You know how to drive me wild. I feel at your mercy every time we are in bed. I … I simply had to find at least one of your fetishes, a kink, a secret touch or toy that made you lose yourself to me the way I feel helpless around you.”

There.

I had come clean.

I feared she would laugh, even though I knew my darling would never ridicule me when I was laid vulnerable to her like this.

And yet.

I was scared anyway.

I felt more naked than I actually was. Like my chest was open, heart exposed.

“Ohhhh. Clavis.” Her sympathetic sigh was balm to my nerves. My name on her lips was full of love and acceptance. Not a scrap of judgment or mocking was present.

She began to reach her hands to me, forgetful of their bondage. The clanking metal of the cuffs’ links jangled me out of my self-pity, reminding me to school my features into something less pathetic.

“Let’s get you out of these, hm? I think the sexy experiment is over. It yielded no results.” I attempted to sound like my usual self as I unclasped the leather restraints from the headboard.

“You’re wrong, honey. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.” The sultry smile on her face grew.

I simply blinked at her while I undid the buckles to free her wrists.

Emma continued, “Perhaps the feedback wasn’t what you expected. But I could have told you what you wanted to know without going to all the trouble.”

Hmmm?? What was this?

She bit her lip slyly before adding, “Not that I didn’t like the, um, experiments. It was a fun and new experience with you.”

I kept silent, but nodded to encourage her to continue. What was she going to divulge?

I moved to the foot of the bed to undo the ropes on one leg and the leather straps on the other as she spoke.

“None of those toys or equipment were something that unlocked a new deviant side of myself. There was no one particular place you touched or action you did that wasn’t more special or spicy than the others. But there was one constant throughout the entire adventure that kept me aroused more than anything else.”

After I tossed the rope and restraints to the floor, I noticed the imprints left behind. Little lines indented her supple skin. My fingers traced them gently, lovingly. Her thighs were like a canvas for the rope patterns. I was relieved to see there were no angry red marks. I kissed the trail of criss-crossing marks, reveling in the softness of her glorious legs.

She paused, as if waiting for me to give her my full attention. I rose from my worship of the world’s most perfect thighs and asked, “Oh? You’re giving me feedback after all? Lucky me. Do go on,” I purred as my palms glided from her hips to her knees.

“It was how you acted. You were still Clavis. The Clavis I love. But you were also … more. Different. It was the domineering act you put on. The way you commanded me to do or not do something. I loved submitting to your orders. I … I enjoyed putting myself completely in your control. Because I trust you. And because it felt exhilarating to be at the whims of a man who usually is out of control.”

She giggled, giving me a knowing look. It was the truth. I didn’t interrupt her to say she was wrong.

Emma went on, “You are chaos incarnate, sweetie. Your political plans are masterful, but your outward attitude is so flippant, so unpredictable, that nobody realizes how dastardly clever you truly are. But today you behaved differently. You were so sure of yourself. Sure of what reactions you wanted to pull out of me. And that was what put me into a frenzy more than anything. It was seeing you execute whatever plan you had in mind, and entrusting myself to your care. Because I love you and I know you would never hurt me.”

My mouth had gone dry and I realized at some point my hands had stopped their trek across her sumptuous legs.

The full impact of what she said was still hitting me: None of the bondage gear or implements or sensation tricks I used were effective at uncovering a new kink.

It had been me! And her! It had been the Dom/sub roleplay that had been at the heart of her arousal this whole time.

I almost laughed out of sheer exhaustion at realizing that we hadn’t needed any of the periphery, not a single whip or blindfold or toy.

All we needed was the two of us.

“It’s you. You’re my kink.” Her sheepish words echoed my thoughts. “There’s your feedback. Now. Ahem. Clavis, I believe you were FINALLY about to fuck me, right?”

“One hundred percent correct, my lovely lover. But first let’s get this off you. I don’t want anything between us.” I made fast work of the buckles on the front of her corset.

Taking into account how tired and sensitive she was from all my previous ministrations that day, I didn’t over-exert our love-making. That first time, at least. The rest of the weekend was full of intense, laborious exercise in bed. I gave in to every one of her whims and requests.

On our final afternoon in the manor, Emma slid off of me, panting, before she caught her breath enough to speak her mind. It somehow flowed from the conversation we had had on that very first day of the experiment.

“No one gives you enough credit for all the effort and intellect. You keep your brainpower too well hidden, and it frustrates me that people don’t appreciate how smart and resourceful you are. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think I love a fool? How it feels to have everyone look at my husband-to-be like he’s just some weird idiot, instead of the intelligent and caring and amazing man he is inside? Do you? I don’t think you do, sweetie. It’s infuriating. And you never correct them!”

“Heh. And neither will you. Ever. I prefer it that way. And you know why.”

She did. And it set my heart aflame to know that she understood my wiles and reasons, yet still got angry on my behalf.

Oh, darling. I don’t deserve you.

Knowing that she adored my hard work and brains was enough to spark a dozen new ideas for the next time we had a weekend away.

She loved my cunning. And my cunnilingus. I would put both to work next time, along with that domineering side that drove her wild.

I grinned wickedly.

She saw it, and responded with a wicked smile of her own. “Uh-oh, what does THAT look mean? You look positively villainous… I love it.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

AUTHOR’S NOTES:

😏 I’m curious to see what the readers think their safe-word is? Comment or reblog with your idea! I can’t wait to see what you guess! Hee hee!!! 😘

I don't usually write in first-person PoV. But for some reason when I started this, Clavis INSISTED he be the one to speak. The words must come from his mouth and not from a disinterested observer. Pfft. Okay, pal. Man, he can be pushy. And he's SO GOOD at getting his way!!

Kokoro! Bryn had mentioned you said “It’s Valentine’s Day, I want them to fuck!” 😏🤣 LOLOLOL And here I realized by the time the D/s scenario had wrapped up, Clavis still hadn’t DONE THE DEED. 😳🥹 Ack! I’m sorry! 🙈🙃😅 It was implied that they did, indeed, fuck several times during their weekend away. But I didn’t have time to write it all out. I’m sure the scenes would be far more delicious and steamy in your imagination than I could put them into words. So please visualize to your heart’s content! 😈😉

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sunshine304 · 5 months

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FTH Fanbinding: "Frisky Business" by WaterMe

Can you believe it, I’m finally posting the first book of my three fanbindings for the Fandom Trumps Hate Crafts Bazaar! Will wonders ever cease!

This fic was requested by the raffle winner @phenomenalasterisk after @waterme-stories agreed to their fic being bound. It’s an MCU fic with that includes Peter Parker being turned into a cat and an eventual Peter/Clint pairing. I read it and it was really funny!

Of the three FTH books, this was the first typesetting I finished. Mostly because it was very straight forward in structure (almost no “special formatting” like text messages, articles etc.) and also included great graphics by the author that were perfect for chapter headers, spacers etc. It made the typesetting overall quite easy, even though I always need a while to finish that stuff.

I did the title page based on the author’s title design (that wasn’t vertical so I couldn’t use it), but other than that I basically just kept their graphics.

I tried something new for the endpapers: I foiled them. I hoped that it would look nice and had to put a lot of craft paper through the laminator until I found the combination that worked.

I wanted to keep with the Hawkeye/Spider-Man theme and so chose graphics of Clint and a nice spiderweb/spider combination. I also kept to their colour schemes.

Clint turned out very well; that lilac is such a lovely colour. The red for the web also worked fine overall, but the blue for the spider didn’t connect well at all, even though it’s the same brand than the other two colours. :/ I coloured it in with acrylics which tends to rub off again, so I scrubbed over it with some tissues until I was satisfied. XD

There are some unfortunate creases in the endpapers, but those came from the laminator, it tends to wrinkle the paper a bit at times. But it’s not too bad.

The case design gave me more of a pause and I dithered around a lot.

The foil is actually supposed to be holographic, and depending on the light, you can see it. But it’s very very faint and mostly looks silver, which I think works well with the rest, at least, even though I would’ve liked for the holographic effect to be more obvious.

Overall, I’m really pleased with how this book turned out. Thank you again to @phenomenalasterisk for participating in FTH this year and trusting me with this.

Materials used:

Printed on Clairefontaine DCP 100g (long grain) Case + endpapers: - booklinen Brillianta - Efalin paper - craft paper 120g (endpapers) - hot foil (on brand)

Here's the link to the fic, added belatedly because it slipped my mind after all the typing...

#fanbinding #my fanbinding #fth #fandom trumps hate #fth crafts bazaar #bookbinding #arts and crafts #mcu #books #my posts

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bi-bard · 1 year

Text

Impressive - Nikolai Lantsov Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Impressive

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov X Reader

Word Count: 1,760 words

Warning(s): canon-typical violence

Summary: The four times Nikolai was desperate to impress (Y/n). And the one time that they could admit that he succeeded.

Author's Note: Kinda hate how much he grew on me so quickly.

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Number One:

I knew that one day I would have to cross the Fold again.

That did nothing to change how much I dreaded it. I was terrified of being stuck or killed. I could put on a brave enough face, but all I could think about when I thought of the Fold was all of the tragedy that accompanied it. The pain and death and misery. Not just my own, but the world around it.

That was enough to scare me to my core.

And then, Nikolai let us in on his method of getting across the fold.

Well, he didn't tell us anything. He showed us.

I watched as the ship shifted into a different machine that then separated from the rest of the ship. The sound of engines starting was accompanied by shaking and very little explanation.

"Oh, saints!" I wrapped an arm around the main pillar in the hopes of keeping myself steady. I looked over. I could see us moving upward. "Flying? Are you serious?"

"You sound impressed," Nikolai replied, lifting his arm so he could rest his elbow against the pillar next to me.

I glared at him for a moment. "Terrified."

"Oh, don't be," he waved off my worries. "We've made many improvements since the ones that crashed."

"Thank you," I said sarcastically. "The history of you crashing to the ground is unbelievably comforting."

He held his hand out to me. "Come here."

"I'm comfortable here-"

"(Y/n)," he pushed.

I took a deep breath and relented, placing my hand in his.

He pulled me over to the railing. He moved to grab my upper arms, holding me in place so I could look out at the view.

"What do you think," he asked.

"That I may vomit over the edge," I muttered.

"Lovely," he mumbled back before walking away. "Just don't lean too far over. I would hate for you to fall."

I looked at the distance below us before quickly stumbling away from the edge.

I heard a laugh behind me, causing me to glare at Nikolai again. He just smirked at me.

This time together was going to be far too long.

Number Two:

Finding out the truth about Nikolai and his family was a harsh shift for Alina, Mal, and myself.

I didn't get to confront him at first. Alina took that responsibility into her own hands by punching him.

With all of the people and information, I didn't get the chance to say anything until we were riding toward the Spinning Wheel.

"Were you ever going to tell us the truth," I asked as Nikolai moved to ride alongside me. "Or did you hope that it would never be a relevant conversation?"

He chuckled. "I will admit that I hadn't quite planned how I was going to tell you the truth."

I nodded.

"It was all in the hopes of doing good for the people I loved."

"Why would telling the three of us make any difference?"

"Would you have ever trusted me if I told you who my family was?"

"Do you honestly believe that I am inclined to trust you now?"

He paused. We each looked at each other for a few spare moments before I turned my attention back to the path before us.

"I will earn your trust," he said after a while.

"I will be very impressed if you manage that," I replied.

"Even more motivation to do so."

I turned to him again, but he had already started to look straight ahead with a smirk sitting on his lips.

I couldn't tell if I was irritated by his confidence or if I respected it.

Number Three:

Staying at the Spinning Wheel was an interesting experience.

There was no question of the tension in the air. After what the Darkling had done, the royal family and their soldiers weren't exactly supportive of Grisha's being among them.

Nikolai seemed insistent on making peace. Ever the diplomat.

Hence his proposal to Alina.

A move that admittedly caught me off-guard, but I had no comment about it. It wasn't my place to say anything about it.

I was standing off to the side of the feast, taking the time to allow my head to clear from all of the noise.

"I hope you aren't being scared away."

I looked over to see Nikolai walking over to me with a proud grin on his face.

"Not at all," I replied. "Basking in the pride of uniting two feuding people?"

"Oh, we both know Alina will have much more power in that endeavor," he looked down at his drink for a moment. "How are you? How is your stay treating you?"

"I am quite content," I explained. "May I ask why you were wondering? Surely, my comfort isn't at the top of your list of priorities."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, if I'm not mistaken... shouldn't you be more focused on your engagement," I asked, looking over at Alina.

He chuckled. "I would, but I find you far more interesting."

I looked back at him in shock. I couldn't find a word to say in response to that. I just froze for a moment. No sarcastic remark or insult could find its way to my lips.

"Careful," he mumbled. "You'll catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that."

I quickly closed my mouth and looked away from him.

"Quite impressed that I have the ability to render you speechless."

"Have a good night, Nikolai."

"You too, (Y/n)."

I had never been so embarrassed at how someone saying my name made me feel.

The prince was beginning to feel like a distraction.

Number Four:

I had no real reason for staying with Nikolai when the others went into the Fold.

I had merely held onto the belief that they didn't need me as much as he and his men did.

I was right, but that didn't mean that I had any power that could stand against the shadow monsters that the Darkling had created.

It felt senseless. Over half a dozen fighting one monster and making no progress.

I would have called it hopeless if the creature had pinned Nikolai to one of the pillars. After that, all I could feel was anger. Anger and fear.

Once the monster faded, all I could do was get to him as fast as I could. I had never been susceptible to such tunnel vision, but with Nikolai, it was different.

"Nikolai!"

I helped hold him up, so he was leaning up against the pillar. He was panting, his eyes wide. I had never seen such clear panic written on one person's face.

I grabbed the sides of his face so he would look at me. It took him a moment to recognize me, but when he did, his hands reached up and touched mine, holding them in place.

"Saints, you're alive," I muttered, feeling tears building in my eyes. I leaned my forehead on his, not putting any thought into the action. "You're alive!"

"You sound impressed," he mumbled back, smirking at me.

"You want to make jokes now," I asked, leaning away from him.

He simply shrugged, hissing at the pain in his shoulder.

"Come on," I said. "We need to go find the others."

He nodded, allowing me to help him off the ground.

I caught Tamar giving me a knowing look as I did so. I ignored it.

I had much more important things to worry about than whatever was between Nikolai and me.

And the Time He Succeeded:

I grinned at myself in the mirror.

It had been ages since I had found confidence in my own reflection, but if there were a day to find it, then Nikolai's coronation day was not the worst.

I had been so focused on admiring myself that I barely heard the knock at the door. I called for the guest to come in before my brain had truly recognized the sound.

I turned around the footsteps cut through the silence of the room. Nikolai stood before me. He was dressed for his day. I smiled at him.

"Wow," he mumbled, a smile stretching across his face.

"What," I asked. I chuckled a bit. "Impressed?"

"I'm always impressed by you," he replied. I tilted my head a bit, my eyebrows furrowing for a moment. "Why do you think I spent so long hoping to be in your good graces?"

"I assumed it was a way to hold up your ego-"

"It was because from the moment that I saw you, I knew there was something different about you," he cut me off as he explained, stepping closer to me. "You caught my attention so easily that it was almost unfair. I had no choice but to get you to see me as I saw you."

When he stopped moving, I felt as though my heart were in my throat. He was so close. Too close. It would have been so easy to lean forward and close the pointless distance that separated us.

But I didn't.

Instead, I asked a question, "And how do you see me?"

"Brilliant," he immediately said. His voice was soft. It sounded distracted as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. "And brave. And strong. And... lovely. And protective. And gentle, even though you don't let that show very often."

I would have chuckled at the final comment if I hadn't been so stunned.

I had been called brave before. I had been called strong before. I had never had someone associate my name with the words lovely or gentle or brilliant. Maybe I had simply never captured someone's attention for long enough for them to find those words.

"I could use a million words to describe you and I would never feel as if I had said enough," he whispered. His hand came up to cup the side of my face.

"Nikolai," I mumbled.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine before I could think of what I was going to say beyond his name.

I slowly kissed him back, suddenly becoming aware of just how little experience I had when it came to matters like this. I tried to ignore that nervous feeling in my stomach.

He made it much easier. As he leaned closer and held me just where I was, I found myself with little else to think of beyond him. No fears or simple worries could pull me away from this moment.

Yes, I was definitely impressed.

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#nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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deancasbigbang · 8 months

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Title: Stargazer

Author: Ryan_A

Artist: Outofthecavern

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/others, Castiel/Inias (prior)

Length: 220000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage (mentioned)

Tags: Biologically Necessary Submission (Bio BDSM), Dubious Consent, Dominant Castiel/Submissive Dean, Training/Rehabilitation Center, Hurt/Comfort, Doctor Castiel/Patient Dean, Age Play, Suicidal Ideation (brief), PTSD with Flashbacks, Angst with a Happy Ending

Posting Date: November 8, 2023

Summary: Dean Winchester hates his biology. When he presented as a submissive, it made him a target. From catcalling to groping to physical abuse, Dean has learned the hard way that Dominants can’t be trusted. Unfortunately, as a male—especially a tall male submissive—he’s a rare find. A gold mine to sub-trafficker Asmodeus, a ruthless Dominant with an appetite for torture who snatched Dean from outside his local bar. When Dean manages escape and is hospitalized, suffering from physical injuries and severe trauma, specialist Dr. Castiel Novak is called upon to admit Dean into his private rehabilitation center. As Castiel nurses Dean back to health, Dean faces his instinctive need to escape. Castiel is a Dominant—the enemy—but Castiel has also been kind, nurturing, and everything opposite to what Dean has come to know. But as Dean considers letting down his walls to let Castiel in, Asmodeus is in the shadows, scheming to get his prize submissive back.

Excerpt: “Are you always this bossy, Sir?” Dean says it lightly but immediately wants to pull it back—he’s gone too far this time. His shoulders curve in, anticipating a scolding, but instead he feels the warm huff of a chuckle against his skin. “Are you always so . . .” Castiel’s voice trails off, as though searching for the right word, but Dean can think of several. “Irritating? Rebellious? A pain in the ass?” Castiel’s mouth ghosts over Dean’s neck above his collar, his breath hot as he replies, “I was going to say endearing, but the others work too.” Dean snorts. “Gee, Cas, you really know how to butter a guy up.” Dean’s brain hits pause, rewinds his words to replay them, and oh my god, I just called him Cas. Not the respectful Sir, as is expected. Not even Dominant Castiel. But Cas—a nickname he has no right or permission to use. Panic darts into Dean’s stomach and self-preservation has him trying to worm his way out of Castiel’s arms. But his doctor pulls him closer, fingers pressing possessively against Dean’s belly, a leg sliding over his own and pinning him in place. “Dean . . . I like my name on your lips,” the man says, and hot damn—the rumble in that voice, thick and deep and so goddamn tantalizing—hell fucking yeah, Dean likes his name on Castiel’s lips too. And the way Castiel holds him, this kind of possessiveness—affectionate, playful, respectful—this is the kind of domination Dean would so easily submit to. Not like he’d ever say that, but he does hum in approval, in pleasure, in relief. “My precious boy, you have no idea how special you are to me.” Castiel’s voice—his words—are like syrup, medicinal yet tooth-rottingly sweet that makes Dean want to be doctored by Castiel any day of the week. And here—held by this Dominant’s gentle touch, comforted by his affectionate words, and safe in his protective embrace—the cluttered noise in Dean’s mind calms. And as he begins drifting off, one single thought remains: he never wants to let this go.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2023 #fic preview #2023 promo #deancas #destiel

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nirikeehan · 4 months

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i will wip that wednesday

tagged by @melisusthewee and @theluckywizard for the first wip wednesday of the new year. what have i been working on?

Curse of Strahd crossover nonsense, of course.

I "jokingly" envisioned a sequel to It's Never Sunny in Barovia, called It's Always Sunny at Skyhold. What's the premise of that one? Oh, instead of Thalia in Barovia, it's Metrion at Skyhold. Naturally.

Anyway this scene is about Thalia trying to break it to her boyfriend Cullen that she's got a new bestie and he's a shady motherfucker. Cullen exhibits the patience of a saint.

---

“I don’t believe this.” Thalia stands. “I make one friend, just one friend my own age since I was at the Circle, and the rest of you decide he’s got to be a bad influence on me? I’m not a child, you know.”

Cullen raises his hands as if in surrender, his face gone pale. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that.”

He steps out from behind the desk, crossing the space to her. Lightly, he puts his hands on her shoulders. Thalia wants to flinch away petulantly, but worries that would disprove her own point. She waits, seething, as Cullen leans down and kisses her on the forehead. The tenderness melts her resolve.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs. “I spent the better part of two months afraid I’d never see you again.”

Thalia sighs, leaning into him. The fur along his collar is soft against her cheek. “I understand that. But if you’re looking for someone to blame, it’s not Metrion. It’s that awful vampire we killed.”

“So the reports say.” Cullen puts his arms around her, though she feels an unspoken but in the tenseness of his muscles.

“He’s not so bad. He really isn’t. Dubious past aside.” Thalia chews her lip. She wants to tell him more, but she promised. “And it means a lot. He likes me for me. It wasn’t the fancy title or the accolades that made him want to be my friend.” In fact, she suspects Metrion can hardly stand that he’s fallen in with some sort of political powerhouse.

Cullen frowns, pulling back to arm’s length. He looks at her a little sadly. “And is that what you think of the rest of us?”

“No!” She ducks her chin, embarrassed. “That’s not what I meant. Just that — well, it is true everyone I’m closest to started out as allies, or colleagues. Even Pravin. We wouldn’t even have reconnected at all if not for the Inquisition.” She shrugs. “But I was just some girl who was lost, and Metrion decided to help me anyway. If you think there’s a grift in this, he’s certainly playing the long game.”

Cullen hugs her again. “All right, all right. I’ll trust your judgment on this one — unless he gives me a reason not to.” A pause. “It would help, I suppose, if I actually met the man.”

Thalia frowns. “You haven’t?” Well, Skyhold is large, and Metrion certainly has a knack for only being noticed if he wishes himself to be. Even the day her column arrived at Skyhold, he slipped out the back of the caravan instead of suffering the official welcome. She found him later, on the battlements, face tilted toward the sun.

“He’s often in the tavern, I’m told.” Which, unfortunately, doesn’t surprise her.

“If he is, I haven’t seen him. Perhaps he’s avoiding me on purpose?” Cullen’s voice is light, but he’s not entirely joking. “I could understand if someone of his— er, caliber, might not desire the company of the Inquisition’s commander.”

“Perhaps.” Thalia’s frown deepens, because Metrion’s only comment on Cullen so far has been I get it, love, which she has taken as tacit approval of her romantic choices. “Does this mean I ought to arrange an introduction?”

Her heart thumps uncertainly at the prospect. She would very much like for Cullen and Metrion to get along, although she worries Metrion’s aversion to authority figures will pose a significant obstacle. Likewise, she has been hoping that her report might open Cullen’s eyes to Metrion’s better qualities, but there is no way she can erase Pravin’s assessment from his mind.

“If he’s amenable to it,” Cullen says carefully. The corner of his mouth tugs upward. “I would like to thank him, at least. For taking care of you in my absence.”

Thalia blushes. “I’m, ah. Not sure he would see it that way.” Their time in Barovia has already sunk into a dismal, horrible blur. The memories she holds most dear are the small moments in which they’d been able to be themselves, without pretense. She’s told Metrion things about her time in the Circle that no one else knows, and in turn he entrusted her with secrets she never plans on sharing — where he’s come from, for instance, and from whom he’s running.

Tagging to participate, if interested:

@monocytogenes | @delicatefade | @bluewren | @rowanisawriter | @velnat004

#thalia trevelyan #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #metrion the magnificent #curse of strahd au #it's never sunny in barovia #it's always sunny at skyhold #wip wednesday

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ystrike1 · 2 years

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An Extra In The Family Is The First To Be Abandoned - By Baek Chung-myung (7/10)

The yandere part of this was kind of unexpected. The love interest seems like a reasonable man at first, but then the author gradually keeps adding more evil into all of the characters. Sadly, our main character is a pure woman without an evil bone in her body. I know the love interest will protect her, but this could have been more interesting. The kind, bland protagonist is the most boring part of this. Also the English translation available now is awful.

Ethel is actually the second princess, Stella. Stella was abused as a child by the royal family because she did not develop magical powers. The royal family is deeply afraid of rebellion, and their star based magic keeps the families position unshakable. When Stella did not manifest they immediately turned their backs on her. She did not get to debut as a princess. She had to live as her sister's maid.

Child abuse is a common topic in fantasy stories like this, but it is relevant to the plot. Ethel has taken on a new name and she has completely given up on her family. They tried to sacrifice her to a group of rebels to save their own cowardly skins. She feels no love for them anymore, and I can respect that.

Ethel works in a small restaurant. She has a little sister and an adopted family that she loves. The rebels didn't kill her because they truly believed she was just a maid. Of course after the attack her powers did manifest, and now there's a suspicious "hole" in the night sky. The star god(?) keeps telling her to return to the castle, but she doesn't want to go.

Again, I can respect that. Ethel's family is truly nice. When she was Princess Stella her only friends died in the rebel attacks. If she did try to return to the palace she would face nothing but opposition. Her family would never trust her. Her sister was clearly out to get her from the beginning as well. Power isn't very tempting for Ethel.

Ethel's sister is named Karen. She is delightfully evil and she won't be getting a redemption arc. She treats the man she loves like a object. She has people she doesn't like killed behind the scenes. She hopes Stella is dead, because she wants all the attention. The star god wants Stella but Karen sincerely does not care. Her royal parents love her. Her brother is easy to manipulate. Stella the late bloomer with extra powers was the only thing in her way. She is at the top of the social world.

Karen doesn't know why the Duke doesn't want her. Duke Clyde has very good yandere potential. He didn't know Stella was a special princess when he met her. He knew her when she was a downtrodden maid, and she knew him when he was a slave. He thinks she's the only one that can ever understand what he went through, and he's kind of right. He thinks Stella is his star and only she deserves to have power. He's kind of right but also clearly a little crazy.

He constantly insults Karen. He eats at Ethel's restaurant once a week because he's almost certain she is his princess. His love lorn behavior is starting to piss off high society. Clyde wasn't supposed to be a slave. I believe he was related to the previous Duke, but of course he had to kill alot of enemies to get the title. The last Duke did not respect him. He actually stabbed the man, because he wanted the Duke title specifically so he could marry Stella. (I assume that he figured out she was the hidden princess at some point). That made me pause. Clyde isn't especially excited about having power either. He just wants to find and marry Stella.

Stella has been missing for ten years as well. That makes him look even crazier. The last time they spoke was when they were children, but he's still intent on marrying her. Karen is willing to do alot of killing to make him settle for her instead. Her spies find Ethel and Karen....does something smart? What?

That's right. Karen is a real villain. Not a spoiled little girl. She bribes Viscount Jay, and uses him against Ethel. It's obvious that Clyde is already falling for her, and that's not good. Even if Ethel isn't the real princess she's a problem.

The plan is this.

Jay has to flirt with Ethel and offer her a new life. A life as a fake princess. She looks exactly like Stella, so she can use those looks to become one of the wealthiest woman in the nation. She can have all that power on one condition. She must marry the man Jay (Karen) chooses.

The best part about this is the fact that Jay forces her to accept the deal. He's a nobleman after all. He can make a commoner woman go along with his scheme. So now Ethel must enter the palace as a fake, even though she's the real princess. Karen will undoubtedly use this back room deal to make Ethel look illegitimate and greedy. Clyde will be enraged at her engagement.

Her arrival will cause a storm.

Cool, but Ethel/Stella is boring. I'm warning you the setup is good but the main character is a yawnfest. She's already mostly over her trauma. She isn't afraid of her family. She doesn't care about fixing the country or learning magic. She just cares about her adorable adopted family. Which is fine but this royal family is scary, corrupt and evil. Ethel is kinda shitty for not caring about what they're doing. God itself is begging her to come back to the castle and Ethel is like...nah but my family. I don't know. I think Jay will threaten them to force her to team up with him. The Duke and the villains are both reasonably well done. Grow a backbone Ethel. Innocent people are dying because your narcissist sister can never have enough love.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #An Extra In The Family Is The First To Be Abandoned

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krsive-writes · 11 months

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I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Rickorty Week Day 2, prompts are Alternate Selves and First Time

Title: I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Author: krsive

Rating: M

Tags/Warnings: Angst, Mental Sex, Alien Sex

The setting didn't inspire confidence, really. There was some kind of green scaly rat in the alley feasting on a discarded Morty Hut pizza. It must have rained before they portaled in because the petrichor still hung in the air, though it was pungent with the scent of garbage. The asphalt was gritty and damp. Morty stuck close to Rick the whole way down to the steel door which was apparently where they were headed.

“This is a-already the worst birthday gift ever, a-a-and it hasn't even started yet!" Morty complained. He didn't like the solemn disregard in Rick's expression.

"You're about to have a once in a lifetime experience, Morty. You're about to have the ultimate sex tourism ride. A little gratitude would be nice." Rick knocked a pattern on the door.

"We c-could have just had sex in a nice hotel. This place is too creepy."

"We can't have sex like this anywhere else. Didn't I tell you this was gonna be special? Even I've never done this before. Jesus, Morty. Always bitch, bitch, bitch."

"I—“

The door opened and a gruff Rick beckoned them inside. The room was large enough to feel airy though there were no windows. In one corner were two hospital beds and two huge bell jars, connected to one another by a mess of wires and tubes. It seemed a little menacing, but Morty couldn't dwell on it because something even stranger made itself known. Two swirling shapes like small cumulus clouds hovered in the air before him. One was a cool, dusty blue, and the smaller one was a dandelion yellow.

"Met Rick and Morty U-2571," Rick introduced.

"Um. H-Hi." Morty raised his hand in shy greeting.

You're late, C-995, said a Rickish voice, though there was no actual sound—just a distinct alien thought in Morty's mind.

"Of course we're late; we're Rick and Morty. You expect any level of personal organization?”

''W-we're sorry," said Morty.

At least your Morty has some manners. Let's get started, the blue cloud ‘said.’

Everyone seemed to know what to do but Morty, who was shooed towards the equipment in the corner. He didn't protest, though, until he was instructed to take his shirt off.

''Wait, though. What’s going on, here, Rick? I thought we were gonna…'' He darted a glance at the others. "You know…"

"We are. But it's gonna be like nothing we've ever done before. We're gonna swap bodies with these guys and have cloud sex."

"What?! I-I don't want to swap bodies with a smoke monster!'' Catching himself, he twisted his fingers together. "N-No offense."

None taken.

"Morty. Do you trust me or not? This is gonna be right up your alley. All intimate and shit. I chose you to try this with, you little ingrate. It's my first time, too."

That gave Morty pause. The two of them had been fucking for months, but Rick still seemed to be allergic to intimacy as a concept. Every time he began to share his heart with Morty, he ended up shutting down afterwards. If this was a true offer of vulnerability, Morty couldn't just turn it down.

''Fine,” he sighed, shoulders heavy. “Ok. Let's try it."

The gruff Rick set it all up, applying diodes and dialing in settings. The clouds went into the bell jars. Morty was asked to calm the fuck down and lower his heartrate, and eventually Rick had cooed him through it. Then came a moment of unspeakable pain, and every thing changed.

His new senses weren't senses at all, not in any way that Morty could understand. He saw without seeing, heard without hearing. It was like he just knew things about the world around him, his thoughts made of something invisible that he couldn't define. The bell jar opened and Morty understood that he was to exit in his new vaporous body. He was aware of the others, of the two beings borrowing their original bodies, the gruff Rick opening a private tent. And, especially, he felt his own Rick, his presence like bright neon in his mind.

This slaps. Rick's voice wasn ’t a real voice, but it made Morty feel good.

What now? Morty returned, though he didn't quite understand how he was speaking.

In the tent. I thought you ’d want some privacy.

Morty was surprised to find that he could intuit how to move with great precision, and he followed Rick into shady privacy.

Wh-What are they doing with our bodies? he asked.

Hedonistic flesh shit. Stop thinking about them. Rick crowded in on Morty. We're here for us.

Morty had begun to worry about his normal body, but everything changed when a wisp of Rick's vaporous body mingled with his cloudy self. The jolt of alien pleasure hit him like a bolt of lightning, and all other thoughts fell away. It was like his mind had become a sex organ. He saw, without seeing, a vision like a steel gate shaking, as if a battering ram was pounding against it. Running on desirous instinct, Morty pressed forward. Their smoky bodies mingled further, turning green as they mixed. Morty made a wish, and the gate turned to sunflowers that toppled to the ground in a heap.

Instantly overwhelmed by the swirling shared mindscape, Morty reached for the shape of his grandfather. And he was here to be found, joy of joys! Here was Rick as Morty liked to think of him, relaxed and laughing on the couch. Rick as a small child, crying and crying over a lost balloon. Here was Rick in a tuxedo, turning the wedding ring over and over in his pocket while he tried to remember how to breathe. Rick with his nose broken and bloody, glaring at his smug father. Rick in a hospital gown—but no.

Not yet . Rick's voiceless voice surrounded him.

It felt so good. Morty ’s very being tingled, like his soul was about to orgasm. Rick sounded like he was close, too. Morty could sense tremulous desire in him.

Look.

Inside their shared soul, Morty saw Rick's love, large and shimmering in unnamed colors. He knew without knowing how to proffer his own in return. He held it out, and Rick's wrapped around it. Rick's love opened like the Marianas trench, with depths unfathomable. Morty had no choice but to drown in it. Pleasure suffused him utterly.

I th-think I'm coming, said Morty. Can we come like this?

Rick's voice caressed him like a sweet spring breeze. It's sex, Morty. Of course we can come.

I want more.

They swirled together and Morty saw a strange sight, like their human bodies were combining and recombining in horrifying ways, faces and limbs changing, fading in and out, growing and shrinking. It continued without slowing, like a shimmering mirage flickering.

We were already one, Rick's phantom voice was hushed, awed. I never understood.

Morty's pleasure mounted as the grisly display went on. He let Rick's words carry him away until ecstasy exploded within him and swept it all away. Nothing existed but the thick whiteness of his orgasmic Nirvana.

Now he was a child, an infant, and Rick was holding him to his breast. Hush, little baby, don't say a word...

Is this real? Morty asked.

There are no lies here.

I don't remember this.

I do.

Who's my special guy? Rick asked the infant. Baby Morty blew spit bubbles.

The scene changed. Now Rick was small, Maybe four years old. A man stood over him, wire clotheshanger in hand.

No! Rick said.

The vision blurred for a moment, but didn't disappear. The man whipped Rick's little calves again and again, swearing all the while. Toddler Rick wailed, but the man didn ’t care. Morty felt himself growing bright, so bright that he burned the man right out of the scene. Rick moaned as the light of Morty enveloped his small self.

I love you, said Morty. He kissed the child on his brow.

Don't stop, begged Rick.

Morty hugged Rick more tightly and swallowed his body inside of his own. The pleasure was unbearable. They were the same, lonely children who only found love in each other. Suddenly Morty was an old man and Rick was a youth and his back ached but they kissed and Morty could feel Rick coming apart in his hands. They exploded into twinkling silver star, became the glorious heavens together. These orgasms were beyond anything Morty could have imagined.

Keep going. keep looking, Rick said, desperation quivering inside him.

You love me.

So much. Keep looking.

Morty, in his incorporeal self, took steps into the dark. He saw his grandmother, young, a spotlight turning her hair golden. She was weeping endlessly, and Mort knew with great assurance that Rick believed this was something he should never be forgiven for.

Not there, said Rick. Deeper.

I still love you.

Deeper. Morty. There's something...

Somehow Morty just knew what Rick meant.

He found himself in front of a castle covered in thorns. On the plants hung tortured versions of Morty, ones he recognized from bad memories together. With Rick panting and gasping in pained pleasure, Morty searched for the door. He tried to push it open, but it wouldn't budge. He uncovered a key hole and looked around.

You still don't trust me?

I'm afraid. Rick's honesty was at least refreshing. Please. This is why...

Then show me the worst thing. Show me the worst thing you ever did. You'll see, then. I'll still love you.

Morty could feel his hesitation, but this space was free from dishonesty, so a vision sprang to life before the door. It was a scene that Morty knew so well. He often thought of it at night to keep him warm. In the vision, Rick was hovering over Morty, hand cupping his cheek.

I couldn't stop myself, said Rick in the present.

They found each other in the vision, fell into a heated first kiss.

I ruined you. I love you but I did this to you anyway. I'm so ashamed. I'm selfish and disgusting. I ’m a fucking pedophile.

I know. Morty couldn't deny that in this space. But I love you, still. I love you. I'll always love you.

You shouldn't.

But I do. Look, look at me. I can't lie to you here. I forgive you f-for fucking up. I forgive you for ruining me. I'll forgive you every time. I'm in love with you and I ’ll never stop.

You mean it.

Morty found that now he had a key in his hand, and he hurried to unlock the door before it could vanish.

Here, again, was Rick in a hospital gown, sitting on a gurney. A doctor with a solemn affect stood before him.

''The metastasis is worse than we'd feared. It's spread to your lymph nodes, your bowel, and your brain. ”

Rick stared down at his hands. ''How long?"

"Even with treatment, I'd say six months at most.'' The doctor wore a gentle frown. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sanchez. It's time to make arrangements. I can have my office call you with recommendations for hospice..."

No.

No no no no no no

NO!

The vision vanished and Morty was in Rick's arms, thrashing to break free.

I couldn't say it out loud, said Rick.

Get off! Get off! Y-You have to fix this!

At this point I'm just a walking bucket full of tumors, Morty. Even citadel medicine can't save me.

No!

And Morty was crying with his entire bare soul. Rick joined him; they wept the same tears with the same eyes. Morty had always been so proud that he had inherited Rick's beautiful eyes. They both pulsed with distressing heat. Everything felt like worms squirming slickly around both inside and outside of him.

B-But 100 years...

Guess I'm a liar.

Operation Phoenix—

l destroyed all the healthy bodies, remember? If I try again I'll just make clone after clone with the same cancer. I could only buy myself six months at a time, and die painfully over and over.

It's not f-fair!

Morty became so tiny, a bird inside an egg. The shell made him safe, but it made him lonely. He felt the warm weight of mama bird Rick all around him. The heat was like the embodiment of his yearning.

I wanted to do this with you before it was too late, said Rick. I wanted to give you this.

There were no more words for Morty. He was in a pain without possible expression. Rick would be gone soon and there was nothing he could do. His heart went limp, his soul greyed out and paled. Changing shapes with no control. Morty let Rick cradle him in many forms. They were an artist and his muse, they were father and son, they were the sun and the tender crops, and they were the singer and the song. He fully lost track of time while Rick soothed him with an endless lullaby. He didn't understand what he was feeling, nor which thoughts were his own and which were Ricks. He wanted to stay this way.

l'll die, too, said Morty, when you go. I'll throw myself in the grave and they'll bury me, too.

No, said Rick. Morty could feel how certain he was.

I can't live without you.

You will.

I ’ll never love again.

Rick seemed to grow more solid. Good. Don't.

Forever.

Forever. You're only mine.

Will you wait for me when you get to hell? Morty wrapped his mind around Rick's tightly.

Morty saw himself through Rick's eyes, annointed in holy light. Morty finally saw himself the way Rick saw him, unbearably beautiful.

l'll break out just to find you.

They basked in the light together, swirling through one another. Morty had no more words for his pain, nor Rick's pain, nor their joint fear. The hurt had turned so beautiful that he thought it might kill them both and end all of this. Morty couldn't bear it, but he felt an obscene pleasure in the way they blurred, blended. This was true intimacy, feeling the same things with the same mind, without bodies or words to get in the way.

l love you, they said with one voice. I love you.

It was the only thing that mattered anymore.

#rickorty #rickortyweek2023 #angst #alien sex #mental sex #soul fucking #krsive #long for a drabble

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 1 year

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Guardian of Kings

And this brings us to the end of my little event! Okay, so the title being Guardian of “Kings”, I always had this idea in the back of my mind that I could do a sequel with this where Bilbo is saving more than just Thorin. Considering it was a little over a year ago that I finished this fic, it seemed like the best time to start it. So as a thank you to everyone who has been following this event and showering GOK with love...I present you with:

Guarding Alliances

“I wasn’t trying to insult you.” Thorin finally mumbled.

“I know.” Bilbo answered flatly.

Bilbo clearly wasn’t convincing enough, because the next thing he knew, his reins were being pulled at to steer Bilbo’s pony closer to Thorin’s own.

“What are you…?”

Bilbo didn’t even finish his sentence before his oaf of a fiance had him swung out of his saddle and into his lap. Bilbo was spluttering, his face blazing as his arms wrapped around Thorin’s neck just to keep him from sliding to the ground headfirst.

“THORIN OAKENSHIELD!”

He was silenced with a kiss that made his toes twitch in delight. When he pulled away, he couldn’t help scowling slightly at the proud smirk Thorin bore.

“I am sorry.” Thorin offered, low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to undermine your authority, ushmarê (my guardian).”

Thorin’s knuckles lightly grazed his face, running up to the side of his head where he played with Bilbo’s engagement bead. A shiver tore through him that he could tell Thorin noticed if the darkening of his gaze was anything to go off.

“It’s not my authority that concerns me. Thorin, do you not trust my decision making abilities?”

“Of course I do.”

Bilbo would almost have believed him too, if it wasn’t for the lingering pause before he answered.

Click on the link above to finish reading this story on AO3!

#sunny's greatest hits #the hobbit #bagginshield #guardian of kings #new fic!#thorin and bilbo already fight like an old married couple

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sovonight · 2 years

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undone, part 1 | atton/exile, sith exile au, kotor 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

✧ — ✧

“So,” says Jaq.

“So?” Says the apprentice, expectantly. “What do you think?”

“You want me to help you game the prestige system by rigging all the trials in your favor, obtaining the headmaster’s resources and authorization codes, and destroying her trust in me in the process?” Jaq pauses as though to take that in, and follows it with, “What’s in it for me?”

“What isn’t in it for you?” The apprentice asks, incredulous. “The headmaster treats you like trash. She has you running around the academy like you’re her personal slave, not a trained Jedi killer. Don’t you want to, you know, stick it to her?”

Jaq sits back and pretends to consider the offer, a smirk hidden behind his hand. Jaq’s often seen this apprentice running errands around the academy, kept too busy to tackle the prestige tasks that could elevate him above his peers. Unlike him, though, Jaq holds no such resentment towards his “master.”

“You know, I see your point,” Jaq says, “But I’m going to need a more tangible reward if I’m going to help you.”

“When I ascend and claim her title—”

“And those are the words I was hoping not to hear,” Jaq sighs. He stands, cracking his knuckles, and the idle action alone is enough to motivate the apprentice to take a cautious step back. “Look, kid—plot and scheme all you like. Stab your master in the back, I don’t care. But the headmaster? She’s off limits.”

“But she—”

“I don’t care what you think of her. You’re rolling this little plan of yours back, effective immediately. And if you ever think about hurting her again, you’re out,” Jaq says.

“You—you don’t have the power to make that decision,” the apprentice says weakly.

“Don’t I? I have the headmaster’s ear,” Jaq says. “And even if she doesn’t believe me, I’m a "trained Jedi killer,” aren’t I? I’ve never hunted a Sith before, but, well… I think I can make it work.”

Jaq’s smirk has stretched across his face now, and the apprentice gives him and the barely concealed weaponry lining his jacket one look before hurrying out of the room, intimidated. Amused, Jaq calls out a parting, "Good talk!” to the apprentice, only to see them freeze a moment later, just a short distance outside the door.

Curious, Jaq approaches the closing gap between the doors, but can only catch a last glimpse of the apprentice’s robes before they shut, leaving only muted audio.

“G-good evening, Darth Vidious,” Jaq hears the apprentice stutter, tone quiet and respectful, in stark contrast to the way he was talking about her earlier. Even through the thick stone doors, Jaq can feel the familiar, dark weight of Vidious’s presence outside. His amusement fades, and he tries to sink back into the shadows, but the sliding doors draw back open to reveal Vidious’s hooded form—and reveal Jaq to her. The apprentice slips away into the shadows of the quiet hallway, and Vidious lets him go, gesturing only for Jaq to follow her.

““Good talk”?” Vidious asks him. Jaq resists the urge to rub at the back of his neck, a nervous habit that she knows him well enough to recognize as such.

"Just collecting student feedback on the new electronic lesson system,” Jaq says. Vidious gives him a look, but his mental shield is enough to dissuade her from seeing the truth, and she accepts his words as they are, turning her attention back to the walk with a sigh.

“I’ve made edits to the lesson programs,” she says. “You will return them to the other Masters tonight.”

The sun has long set; none of them will be happy to see him. But now is not the time to question her—not when Vidious has taken, and will continue to take, the brunt of the academy’s bitterness.

“What did the apprentice say?” Vidious asks. At his brief confusion, she prompts, “About the new system.”

“He doesn’t like it,” Jaq admits, knowing it’s what she expects to hear anyway. “None of them do. But you know how it is—they’ll come around eventually.”

Vidious remains silent; skeptical. Jaq tries again.

“Everyone understands these are ultimately Revan’s orders,” he says. “You can’t be faulted for this.”

Vidious doesn’t look at him, this time. Jaq chooses to believe it’s because she knows he means it.

They’ve arrived at her quarters. The doors open, and Vidious enters. Jaq waits silently upon her doorstep until he’s waved inside.

—

The landscape here is green, lush, and full, as far as the eye can see—the polar opposite of Korriban’s arid climate. Cela’s hood is down, leaving her face open to the cool air, and she closes her eyes and just breathes.

She always forgets what it feels like to be free of Korriban’s pressure. Newly centered, she shoulders her pack, just as Jaq steps down from the exit ramp.

“You’re bringing that whole thing again?” Jaq asks, and Cela spares him only a glance before she turns away.

“I’ll need the equipment for the tomb,” Cela says. Amusement rises from him in response, but she feels no such thing, setting her shoulders and walking off with a frown. Though Jaq calls out for her to wait up for him, she doesn’t slow. She knows he’ll catch her soon.

—

As Korriban’s landing pad sweeps into view, she can already spot the lone figure waiting at the steps below to greet them. Cela sighs and pulls her hood back up; Jaq, who glances at her movement from the pilot’s seat, quickly pulls his gaze back away before she can turn to meet it. As the ship settles, Cela stands and makes her way to the exit.

As usual, Whinu is already walking up to her, even before the ramp has come fully down. She’s granted only the barest last moment of quiet as he waits for the ramp to hit the surface of the landing pad, and then the questions commence.

“Headmaster!” Whinu says, coming forward to meet her halfway down the ramp. “How was the search? Were you successful?”

“It was fruitless,” Cela says, moving forward without waiting for him. He turns quickly, following her without skipping a beat, telling her he has further ideas on where to search next.

She will never become used to the conversations on Korriban. No matter how innocuous the words, the speaker always has a certain look in their eyes—vicious and cutthroat. Cela knows Whinu only wastes his words on her because he aims to succeed her, but any number of the dead ends she has found on the scattered planets he has pointed her to are preferable to a day spent at the academy. She tilts her head, a signal that she’s listening, and Whinu yammers on.

—

“Still holding out for that sweetheart of yours?”

It’s a slow hour at the cantina; the bottles strung up inside, revolving slowly in the near-dead air, are the second most interesting thing in the place. The bartender pours out his shot, and Jaq gazes pensively into the liquid.

“Yeah,” Jaq sighs longingly, leaning his cheek on his hand, as he turns the shot glass idly. The images of the few other patrons in the place are tiny and distorted in the glass; only three figures are there besides him. “I’ve been waiting two years for her to walk through that door. I mean… not that door, exactly, but—to meet me in the middle. You know?”

“Uh huh,” says the bartender, skeptically. “Look, buddy, if she hasn’t yet, it doesn’t sound like she likes you much.”

“No, she does,” Jaq says, with a faint smile on his face; then it fades. “She’s just been under so much pressure. Ever since she got here, really. Her job keeps her busy all the time.”

The bartender, oblivious to Jaq’s newly subdued mood, only scoffs.

“Yeah, alright,” she says. “Take it from me: unless your girlfriend’s in charge of the whole Sith academy up on that hill, she just doesn’t like you.”

“She is, actually.”

“What—? You mean the Darth Vidious? Ha!” The bartender barks out a laugh. “Okay, now I know you’ve got to be joking. I don’t think she even knows you exist.”

The bartender’s still laughing to herself when Jaq straightens in his seat, having spotted the other three getting up to leave.

“Yeah, I guess she wouldn’t know her own right hand man,” Jaq says idly, and downs the shot. He pulls out a loose handful of credits. “So how much do I owe you for the juma?”

The bartender is uncharacteristically silent, and Jaq looks up to see her face has paled.

“Uh… I… It’s on the house,” she says.

Jaq pockets his credits again. Then, on second thought, he drops a few onto the counter anyway; genuine conversation’s hard to come by on Korriban.

“See you next week,” he calls as he leaves, then sets out on the heels of the trio.

—

“Bury them,” Vidious commands. The Sith academy hopeful is crumpled upon the cracked earth, their limbs loose as though there were no struggle, though the face Jaq tips over with his boot is twisted in agony. While his mind tells him he’s dealt worse fates, a strange air hangs about the corpse, and his gut tells him this is the worst fate of all.

“Bury them?” Jaq repeats, hollow. “How?”

The earth is too dense to carve into; even the excavation took months to make a dent in the planet’s surface. No one would bat an eye at the body, anyway; here, death is frequently delighted in.

Vidious stalks up to him, and in her shadowed eyes beneath her dark hood, he sees something like fear.

“I don’t care how,” she says. “Hide them, at least until they rot.” There’s an acid that will do it, his training tells him, but Vidious sweeps past him before he can relate this to her.

It’s only as he watches the flesh melt away, baring the sickly white bone underneath, that his goosebumps finally fade.

—

The Masters of the academy sit before her in a half circle, their table a crescent that terminates in two sharp corners that point to either side of her. Cela sits alone at a height above the rest, feeling, amid the cacophony, barely present.

The argument that rages before her has become all too familiar in these past several days. She’s heard it all: that the academy’s foundations are too ancient to be tainted with the installation of these modern terminals; that the Dark Side was never meant to be understood through the dull medium of written texts, let alone through emotionless programs; and that these “lessons” would only discourage students from maiming each other in dark hallways, and where would they learn their strength from then?

Cela casts her gaze across the room. A few Masters have even worked themselves up into shouting matches, their white-knuckled fists gripping the edge of the thick stone table. Among them, only Whinu is subdued and contemplative—and as though feeling her gaze on him, he looks up and meets her eye.

Cela glances away—but it is too late. Whinu stands.

“Everyone, everyone… please,” Whinu begins, gesturing with his hands spread outward, quieting the entire table. “We need not argue amongst ourselves, but direct our displeasure towards the propagator of this change.”

“And who will convince the Dark Lord of the Sith to change her mind? You, Darth Whinge-u?” Says the Master beside him, her upper lip curled in disdain. A titter of amusement ripples across the table; Cela does not join in.

“No, no, not me,” Whinu says, gracefully ignoring the jab. “And not you either, dear Arekus. Indeed, none of us could ever sway the great Darth Revan… but you, Darth Vidious.”

“Her most prized General, who ended the Mandalorian Wars,” Whinu continues, “Who proved herself so worthy from that feat alone that she was granted the title of Headmaster.”

There is a brief silence, as Whinu’s words echo out and the other Masters take this suggestion in. Even without use of the Force, Cela knows what they must be thinking. Revan had placed her at the top of the academy hierarchy with no experience; with no vetting; with no support from the other Masters at all. Whinu alone had been the apprentice of the previous Headmaster—who of course had met an untimely demise—but once Revan had handpicked Cela and dropped her in with the wolves, all the Masters had felt equally entitled to the role. If it could be Cela—who hadn’t emerged as a Dark Jedi on Revan’s side until a year after the invasion of the Republic began—it could have been anyone.

Dissent coalesces into unison. Now all the Masters are calling for Cela to pass their complaints up the chain—to speak directly to Revan. And once again, she feels that pressure building greater than ever: the jealousy, the resentment, the very malice of Korriban itself.

She takes all of this in… and Darth Vidious raises her head at last, needing only one word to still the room: “Enough.”

In an instant, the room is silent. A true silence, held by Vidious’s displeasure, which thickens the air in the room, settling into their throats and lungs, threatening them to hold their tongue or choke.

Vidious’s words are low and deliberate, knowing her voice is felt all throughout the room.

“Darth Revan will not be informed of your complaints,” she begins. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Arekus’s mouth open to speak, but Vidious compels it back closed with a curl of her fist.

“She will not be told,” Vidious continues in a calm and measured meter, “Because Revan’s orders are absolute. You will make the system work, and anyone who is found shirking their responsibilities to me, the academy, or the Dark Lord of the Sith herself, will answer to my wrath.”

To underline her words, she holds the air in her grip for a moment longer, then releases them all to wheeze in their next breaths. The argument does not resume, but she feels the glares of all twelve sets of eyes upon her, their animosity freshly renewed.

—

By the time Cela returns to her quarters, long shadows have stretched across her room, cast by the last of the day’s harsh light. Everything is as she left it: the rumpled blankets upon her bed, the datapad filled with unfinished work upon her desk, and even the cup of steeping tea beside it, which has surely grown cold and bitter in her absence. She moves to flick on the lights—and freezes, noticing movement in the shadows.

None of the Masters could have made it here before her, but any one of their servants could have. Thinking this, she Force grips the air there blindly, and drags what she finds into the light, revealing—

“Whoa, hey! Easy, it’s just me!”

Startled, Cela releases him, and Jaq stumbles into her desk, pulled by his residual momentum. Her datapad is knocked from its perch, and she reaches for it with the Force, but Jaq catches it for her first, his reflexes faster. He holds it out to her. Cela pulls the datapad roughly from his hand, no longer shocked, but annoyed: for a moment, he’d scared her.

“Explain yourself,” Cela demands. “What are you doing here?”

“We just got a new shipment in,” Jaq says, somewhat pained, massaging his struck hip. “Thought I’d let you know that I evaluated it this afternoon.”

“By waiting for me in the dark,” Cela says.

“By being discreet,” Jaq corrects. “I know you like your privacy—I didn’t think you would want me to advertise that there was someone waiting for you.”

Cela feels her shoulders relax just a fraction. Of course; she needn’t have worried. This is Jaq, after all: he would no sooner obey a Sith Master than defect and join up with the remaining Jedi. Of all those here, Jaq only answers to her—and, she suspects, only does so because of her close ties to Revan.

A pressure makes itself known in her hand, and Cela realizes she’s still gripping the datapad, tight enough to leave a mark. She pushes it back onto the desk, an action that Jaq follows idly with his gaze, before he turns his attention back to her.

“So,” Jaq begins, a little too casually. “Meeting not go well?”

Jaq has that look on his face. She knows, that he knows, exactly how poorly it went. Still, she takes the invitation to heave a frustrated sigh, and pulls her heavy, oppressive cloak off her shoulders, throwing it across her chair.

“I’ve lost ground with them again,” Cela says. “Whinu always manages to single me out. They wanted me to bring their concerns to Revan—but I had to deny it. I tried to reach her, days ago, but all I was allowed to speak to was her droids!”

Jaq folds his arms, leaning lightly back against her desk.

“Was it her secretary droid, or her assassin droid? Because don’t let the assassin droid fool you—the secretary manages to be worse,” Jaq says.

“I don’t know,” Cela sighs, pulling a tired hand across her forehead. “They keep changing—or being upgraded. I can’t tell which.”

“I’m starting to think these decisions aren’t coming down from Revan,” Jaq says. Cela’s gaze snaps to his in confusion, and he shrugs, “I mean, programming an academy? Only a droid would think that was a good idea.”

Cela almost smiles at the joke, and Jaq’s own faint smile begins to brighten in response, but the weight of reality is never so far from her mind, and the corners of her lips soon drop again, falling into a serious frown.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cela says. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s Revan’s wish—and as Revan’s wish, it will be done. No matter the cost.”

She doesn’t know when her gaze had dropped to her hands; doesn’t know when her hands had balled into fists, either, painful and trembling. She can feel Jaq’s eyes on her once more. Part of her wants him to try again—to tell her another joke—but he remains silent. After a moment, he pushes himself off her desk.

“Come on,” Jaq says, “I’m taking you out.”

He grabs her cloak from the chair and holds it out to her. Cela only stares at it.

“I’m in no mood for the cantina,” Cela says. After all, Darth Vidious could never be seen there.

“Not talking about that,” Jaq says, with a light chuckle. “I mean the hopefuls I rounded up. Three of them, this time; you looked like you needed them.”

He gives up on handing her the cloak, and just drapes it across her shoulders himself instead, walking around her to arrange it correctly, then pulling the hood up for her. The movement is clumsy—the cloth does not lay flat, and the hood has pulled strands free from her braided and arranged hair—but Cela barely notices. All she can hear is her heartbeat, pounding in her ears.

“What did you say…?” Cela says, but her voice is too low. Jaq has turned away, walking to the door. That familiar fear gripping her heart now, she slows him with a drag of the Force.

“Cela, what—”

“What did you mean when you said that,” Cela presses. The fingers of her half-raised hand, held open in manipulation of the Force, tremble and twitch against her will.

“Nothing,” Jaq says, confused. “I thought you could use the kills because of all the stress you’ve been under lately. Did… did you not want that many?”

Cela breathes out in relief. He doesn’t know. Of course he doesn't—he’s an assassin, a hunter. Bloodlust is the only hunger he knows. Her heartbeat fades from her awareness; her hand lowers, relaxed. Jaq is still staring at her when finally, calm, she raises her head and meets his eye.

“Ever thoughtful,” Cela says. “Three is fine.”

—

“You left quite an impression on the young ones,” says Master Vash. “You’ve inspired many of them to follow the path of the Jedi. Even I did not leave unimpressed.”

“Thank you, Master Vash,” Cela says, accepting the praise with a bow of her head. “But I only mirrored what Master Vrook demonstrated for us when I was a youngling myself.”

Master Vash shakes her head with an amused smile.

“Don’t be so quick to discount yourself—an excess of humility can harm you just as easily as its absence,” she says. “Recognize your strengths; take confidence in them. You have a natural instinct not just for leadership, but for mentorship.”

“Mentorship?” Cela says. “I… don’t mean any offense, but guiding younglings through a demonstration of the Force is far from mentorship. Anyone could do it. Myna did, just yesterday. —I, I mean.…”

Cela holds her tongue, embarrassed at the slip; but Master Vash doesn’t fault her for it, only moves with it to make her point.

“But does she also help padawans in the same way? Her peers?” Master Vash asks. Cela remains silent, and with a gentler tone Master Vash answers for her, “You do. I’ve seen you; you center them, calm them, even connect with them in a way few others do.”

“You have much training left ahead of you, of course—and at times you lack patience,” Master Vash acknowledges, “But I believe you have the makings of a great Jedi Master, should you choose to walk our path.”

Cela bows her head once again, meaning only to give an elegant and subdued acknowledgement of Master Vash’s praise, but cannot help the flattered smile that blooms across her face.

—

A hand on her shoulder pulls her from slumber. Groaning, she only curls the pillow of her arms tighter beneath her cheek. The desk she is slumped over is hard and cold, but she needs just a moment of rest to return to her studies; surely the scholars of the Jedi Archives are not so impatient that they can’t spare her that.

“Pssst, Cela. Come on.”

That voice… she had known nothing of that voice in her time as a Jedi. Even though the fog of sleep begins to lift, she only screws her eyes shut tighter, swatting the voice away.

“Leave me alone, Jaq,” she mumbles. “I never gave you permission to enter my quarters….”

“We’re not in your quarters,” Jaq says, quietly, as though not to be overheard. Quietly… as though there were others around—

Cela lifts her head so quickly that her hood flaps against her eyes. Her surroundings come into view beneath the edge of the black fabric, revealing her to be sitting in the academy’s library. From behind a pillar, a couple students peer at them, their curious faces peeking out from behind the carved stone. As soon as Cela’s gaze falls upon them, though, they startle and depart.

Cela pulls her datapad towards her and stands. As soon as she does, her head swims, but she grits her teeth and wills the weakness away; if she sways now, and Jaq is seen helping her, her reputation would suffer for it. She checks the time, and is relieved to find that she could only have been asleep for half an hour, at most.

“You should really get some rest,” Jaq says. Cela ignores him, pushing past him to leave.

“I don’t have time to rest,” Cela mutters. If the Masters of the academy are against her, fine. She’ll do it all herself. Let it not be said that she was the weak link in Revan’s empire.

“System integration, reprogramming,” she lists to herself, “Combat forms, secondary abilities—”

“Wait!” Jaq calls. Cela glances back; Jaq was still standing by the alcove he’d found her in, but now, with her attention, he jogs back up to her.

“I just remembered—Whinu had a message for you,” Jaq says. “He says he’s got another lead.”

“So soon?” Cela asks, certain Jaq must be mistaken—but on second thought, she can believe it. “It must be an apology for putting me on the spot before.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Jaq agrees. “You know, the ship’s still ready to go. We could leave today.”

Memory crashes over her: she remembers stepping into that lush clearing, the feeling of lightness, and that simple breath of air. Even if their destination isn’t quite as healing as that, any place would be an improvement over the hostility of Korriban.

“Then make your preparations,” Cela says. “We leave now.”

—

Jaq practically runs to the ship. The mechanics milling about the hangar turn to stare at him as he passes them, only used to seeing him saunter and loiter about, wearing only wry or sarcastic looks. Jaq’s still grinning with relief when he reaches the ship: who knew all it would take to help her was a little white lie?

So, the sacrificial trio hadn’t worked. Of course it hadn’t. They were caged; it wasn’t organic; there was no hunt. He had hunted them. But even better than the release of a kill, is a release from responsibility. He’ll take her back to that green planet. He hadn’t been too fond of it himself—too much local flora for his taste, and only a small town stood nearby—but he could tell that Cela had loved it. She’d even smiled as she walked beside him, and their hands had almost brushed….

Lost as he is in memory, it takes him longer than he should to realize that the loud mechanical sound he’s hearing is no longer coming from the hangar bay doors, but from the ship itself. Climbing onto a nearby crate to gain some height, Jaq spots a stray repair droid clinging to the roof of the ship, working busily away at a join between the panels.

“Hey!” He yells. The droid turns its eye to him for a moment, then has the gall to return to its work, ignoring him. “No, hey! Stop that!”

“I thought I told you guys, I wanted that fixed after I took her out today,” Jaq says sternly, when the droid finally stops to listen to him. “It’s nothing but cosmetic damage, and it can wait until the weekend. Got it?”

Seeming to understand, the repair droid scuttles away at last, leaving him free to catch a glimpse of the work it’d left behind.

“And one more thing,” Jaq yells out after the droid, “Get your welding protocol checked!”

—

Cela expects relief to wash over her as she watches Korriban shrink away in the viewport. Though she feels it, it’s overshadowed by her elevated heartrate; the nausea in her stomach; and the headache building in the back of her head. Jaq glances over at her.

“You can sleep, you know,” Jaq says. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Though she is tempted, and Jaq had been right earlier to say that she needed rest, Cela shakes her head. She’ll sleep once she’s there.

Her leg bounces slightly as she stares vacantly out the viewport. One moment Korriban is there, suspended in darkness, and the next, rays of bright white have swept the sight away, pulling them into the swirling blue of hyperspace.

“Oh,” Cela says.

“Yeah?” He looks over at her.

“I left so quickly, I forgot to ask Whinu for on-site coordinates. I should message him now.”

Cela reaches for the ship’s comm, but Jaq stops her by the wrist.

“It’s fine,” Jaq says, a little too quickly. “I got the coordinates for you. It was all part of the message.”

Cela gives him a suspicious look, and tries subtly to shake off his hand—but he holds firm. He’s serious.

“Okay,” Cela says slowly, still holding onto her composure, but just barely. “Then what are they?”

“Uh,” says Jaq, “Two-ninety-two, four, and fifty-six?”

“Stop the ship.”

“No, wait—Cela!”

She makes a grab for the hyperspace lever, but Jaq does too, the wrap of his fingers pressing her palms painfully into the metal grip.

“Cela—” Jaq says, struggling against her pull, “Stop—I’m the pilot here, you can't—”

“Don’t try to pretend it’s all technical—” Cela grits out, drawing on the Force to help her, “You always complain about how simple it is!” With that, she overpowers him and pulls the lever back, and they’re snapped out of hyperspace. Jaq checks the diagnostics display immediately, flipping a couple switches in quick succession as though they mean something, but Cela is too angry to care.

“What’s the meaning of this? You know how much work I have at the academy. You know what I have to deal with! What was the point of lying to me?”

Jaq meets her glare with a matching one, not sorry in the slightest.

“Because I could see that you needed this!”

“I don’t need this,” she seethes. “What I need now is to return to Korriban, and rid myself of a certain pilo—”

The ship shudders, sending her stumbling from where she’d risen to her feet in anger. Blindly, Jaq grabs a handful of her cloak and pulls, putting her roughly back in her seat; his eyes are once again glued to the screen.

“Sit down. Buckle in,” he says. “Something’s wro—”

Cela barely has enough time to process what Jaq would’ve finished saying before the ship shakes and shudders once more, then finally barrel rolls over, veering sideways. Unable to get the seat’s buckles to clip together, she abandons them, reaching out to brace an arm against the wall. Beside her, Jaq wrestles with the controls as red lights flash across the length of the control panel. They’re careening, ship tumbling stem over stern, and Cela’s last sight is of a pale crescent passing across the front viewport, flashing by again and again, as it grows ever larger—

—

Cela stumbles out of the damaged ship. The first thought that occurs to her is that this landscape is disappointing. The cliff they’ve landed on is far too pale and barren, and the chasm that stretches out beyond the edge of it would surely have spelled certain death, had they crashed just a few meters forward.

Behind her, smoke continues to billow out of the wreckage, and Jaq emerges from it, coughing and waving it away. The sight of him alive would usually cheer her, but she’d lost all her cheer on the way here. She greets him with a lightsaber to the throat.

“You planned this,” Cela hisses. “You sabotaged me.”

“What? Cela,” Jaq says, open palms held up in appeasement, “Let’s just slow down, alright? We just crashed, we’re lucky to be alive—”

“You’re lucky to be alive,” she snarls, and presses forward a step; Jaq has no choice but to back away lest her blade singe his throat, even though it brings him closer to the smoldering metal behind him. “Admit it—you engineered the crash hoping it would knock me unconscious. While I lay there bleeding, you would take your chance to strike.”

“Cela, I’m a great pilot, but even I can’t fake a crash like that,” Jaq says. As if on cue, the ship punctuates his statement with a small boom, raining fiery bits of metal into the air behind it. Cela glares at him with renewed suspicion, not entirely certain he doesn’t secretly have some command of the Force, and Jaq continues, desperately pointing to his head wound, “And come on, I’m the one bleeding here!”

“Then whose fault is this?!”

“No one’s!” Jaq says. “Sometimes these accidents just happen! Sure, most of the time it’s because you get shot out of the sky, but sometimes—”

Jaq cuts himself off mid-sentence, looking accusingly into the middle-distance.

“That droid,” he says. “There was a repair droid on our ship before we left!”

“Stop trying to distract me with new information!” Cela cries. “Perhaps someone sabotaged the ship. Perhaps Whinu, the only person besides myself who has access to both the droids and that part of the hangar, was the only one who could have done it. But that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me!”

“That’s what you care about?” Jaq says in bewildered anger. “Have you met me? I lie all the time!”

“But not to me!”

The words leave her in a painful cry; it rips across her raw throat, leaving her breathless and heaving. Somehow, though, she feels lighter for it—and Jaq stares at her in quiet shock as Cela begins to laugh.

“I’m such a fool,” Cela says, helplessly. “I wanted to believe you for so long. Whenever you waited for me, whenever you comforted me… I wanted to let you in. But you were only toying with me—making it more personal for when you finally twisted the knife. Your transfer to the academy never did make sense to me. Why would you come to Korriban, when you loved your work as a Jedi hunter?”

For the first time since Cela has known him, Jaq is struck speechless. She’s thankful, really—every word out of his mouth has only ever served to endear himself to her further, only convinced her to ascribe to his actions a myriad of flattering motivations. She watches Jaq’s mouth work silently, stopping and starting as he tries to word his response, until finally, his voice is freed.

“The work wasn’t what I loved,” Jaq manages at last. The look in his eyes is unbearably tender; the tone of his voice frames his words as a deep, dear admission; but it only serves to break Cela’s spell of bitter amusement, leaving a hollow smile behind.

“Don’t try to fool me again, assassin,” Cela says. “I know every emotion I feel from you is a mask. I know why Revan placed you here.”

She disables her lightsaber and lets its warm metal roll from her fingertips, dropping it to the ground with a dull thump. Somehow, Jaq looks more disturbed to witness that than when she’d had her blade up to his throat.

“I’ve failed in everything,” Cela says. She’d thought the admission would hurt more, but she only feels dull inside. “Failed to conquer the academy, failed to realize Revan’s vision… failed to see the threats around me for what they are. I won’t entertain you any longer, Jaq. Just do as you were told.”

She bows her head, defeated. With no hood to conceal the world from her, she can still see Jaq’s boots in her periphery, just paces before her. She closes her eyes just as he takes his first step—ready to die by his hand, but unwilling to watch him do it—but finds herself embraced instead.

“I’ve never been anyone’s pawn but yours,” Jaq says. “I thought you knew… or maybe I was too afraid to spell it out for you. I only came to Korriban for you.”

Cela has never felt Jaq like this. His jacket is rough against her cheek; the fabric of his sleeves have dragged new folds into her robes; and the embrace he holds her in is almost… hesitant. It runs contrary to the way he has always presented himself, and she notices then, too, that his mind feels different.

Jaq had explained his training to her, once. Lust, impatience, cowardice… all emotions thrown up to convince Jedi to overlook the hunter in their midst. She didn’t blame him when he continued keeping those walls up on Korriban; in fact, she’d grown used to them. There’s a smoothness to the technique—a simplicity—and in a place as crowded with emotion as the academy, she’d come to appreciate the way he broke himself up into such easily recognizable elements, a place of rest amongst the noise.

She doesn’t feel that simplicity now. She feels… a knot. Twined together, uncertainty-anger-fear, coiled up, hunger-resentment-guilt, and running through it all, a thread of—

As soon as she touches upon it, Jaq flinches, and she realizes she’s reached out too far.

“I’m sorry,” Cela says, finally opening her eyes. The wrecked ship is still behind them, but smoke is no longer in the air.

“It’s fine,” Jaq says. “I want you to see.”

But his fingers, now curled tightly into her cloak, say otherwise.

“I’ve seen enough,” Cela says. A flash of hurt, then dull resignation, passes across the surface of his mind, and his breath stills against her. But she doesn’t pull away; she leans into him, not with mind but with body, and holds him too, as tightly as she’s long yearned to.

Relief overwhelms her—not only her own, but his. He tilts his head in against hers, pressing his cheek into the inner corner of her shoulder, and his hesitance melts in the warmth between them, leaving only their embrace.

#sovo writes #sith exile au #basically: jaq is cela's only oasis in korriban's hellish landscape but cela is half convinced he's a mirage

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