#apathy builds from that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

easy-there-leftovers · 7 months

Text

I See You, Darling (2)

[Astarion x reader] Due to surprisingly overwhelming demand, the previous fic, along with this one and many more to follow, will now be part of a series!! It was honestly very difficult trying to come up with what happens next, but here we are. The idea came to me during a fever!! |Word count: 2.5k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 1 here!!

Next part here!!

The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Alternatively;An ex-art-student-now-traveler accustoms themselves to the party.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

“Shadowheart. Shadow…heart. Hm.” His gaze bounced between you and her.

“I’m sure her parents meant well, but the name is rather ominous, isn’t it?” He leaned over to your side, not bothering to hide his blatant distrust. Lowering his voice dramatically, if anything.

“Unless she chose it herself. Which is even more worrying, honestly.” He chuckled out.

It had been no more than two bells after mornbright when you met Astarion. Since then, you’ve come to realize how…different your presence has changed the course of the story. Though more subtle than you expected.

It would seem as if you had met the elven vampire before the party was formed, which was strange as your last save point was far later than that and the forest had been quite a long way from the beach.

When you finally stumbled upon Shadowheart, he was quick to share his inner thoughts that you haven’t heard from the game before.

As they continued with their quest to find a cure for the Illithid problem, expanding their party as they did so, you had tried to make yourself useful by doing the dirty work for them. Looting and opening crates filled with camp supplies, armor, and potentially useful weapons and artifacts could always come in handy for trade or for “artifact consumption,” as per Gale’s need. Sorting them for your group’s convenience.

And while you did not have more direct and immediate practical use for your course of study in the modern world, the research you’ve created and reviewed for character creation and world building was doing wonders for your survival.

Or as much as it can for a magicless, not so athletic human.

The “runes” of the medieval ages that have been carved into stone, along with the basic history and background of the common races and deities of the fantastical world that tabletop RPG has offered puts you at quite an advantage.

Not to mention your experience with the areas of the game giving you the same effect.

But this library of information had also aroused something akin to suspicion and concern. It would be understandable if you were a simple traveler just like them, or perhaps even an artisan from the guild, but you were not as astute as either background.

So how could you have access to this much knowledge yet be unaware of more practical matters? It’s as if you had simply read about it from somewhere.

Astarion had been quick to give an explanation before you could form one of your own that could poorly convince your companions. Although, perhaps his suggestion was more outlandish than anything you could have come up with.

“They came with me. Property and all the formality that comes with it. A family pet, if you will.” A perfect excuse to justify your constant proximity to him, and a likely explanation to being well read, but not well experienced.

You thought nothing of the title, your apathy to the non-hazardous labels of this world apparent.

The same couldn’t have been said about your associates who had a few comments about this disclosure.

“I am unfamiliar with the–well, I shall not say ‘culture.’ ‘Customs’, perhaps. I did not think your kind to house such breed of cattle. Perhaps they could be useful.” Was Lae’zel’s.

“I assure you, they typically don’t. Humans aren’t naturally subservient to Elves, at least in this manner. This setup sounds more akin to slavery. Blink twice if you need help.” Was Gale’s response.

“It seems like Astarion's from the upper city, given the embroidery on his armor. I wouldn’t put it past them to have servants that follow them around.” Shadowheart’s nose crinkled at the thought.

The party already had such an interesting rapport. Not entirely comfortable with one another to divulge everything, but loose enough to have semi-pleasant conversation with.

You thought this as you sorted out the fruits of your collective labor into neat pouches and bags, keeping items similar to one another factioned into their respective holding space. The chest being closer to Withers more than you’d like, but it was nice to hear the ramblings of an…undead person? Hearing someone continuously talking allows you to be more productive.

You’ll admit, handling enchanted armor and crystals does make you a tad nervous but you’re comforted by the thought that it will not be you who wields it in battle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale approaching your direction. Possibly to ask for his share of the camp supplies just a little earlier to sate himself as you had an abundance of it for now. You regard him with your back turned and he stops for a bit.

“I will say that I don’t have the lightest of feet, but I figured myself better at sneaking around.” It’s not his fault that he got caught, but the bright purple robe and the smell of the oils you’ve been crafting for them are particularly noticeable.

“You are, but I’ll assume you're not exactly in the best shape after dealing with a few goblins.” You hold up a bottle of a healing potion, swinging it a bit with your fingers to indicate that the smell had warned you of his arrival.

“You’ve got a keen nose on you. Must be from all of Astarion’s training but, speaking of which,” He nears himself to your crouched form, going in to lean against a very old and empty crate.

“Gale, wait–” Right as your warning leaves you, they seem to evade him as falls right through the wood. A comical layer of dust and lichen pluming out from the force. He tries to quickly recover from both the physical and emotional damage as he brushes himself off to make himself presentable once more.

“Ahem, as I was saying,” He again makes his way over to you, settling for just standing close as his attempts to look unbothered temporarily cost him his ego.

“I was serious about what I said before. While I don’t know what to make of our pallid friend just yet, as enigmatic as he is, what he said before is quite confusing. Best make haste away from here if you want your freedom while we’re distracted with this worm problem.” His tone suggests a genuine concern which confuses you.

You’d be lying to yourself if the label of the set up didn’t sound odd, but you’ve never expressed discomfort as there was nothing all too worrying about it on your end. It was mostly for show, and you had as much independence as Tav would have in your game.

You endeavor to quickly dispel his worries.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m very satisfied with my servitude under Astarion. He’s very lenient and reliable, and I’m better off with him than on my own." You return to your task of sifting through your materials but pause and look back up at him to continue.

"I do thank you for turning my way though. Your concern is much appreciated but unnecessary.” You lowered your head a bit to show your thanks.

“Well if someone as generous as yourself says to trust you on this, then I have no choice but to concede! I’ll keep a watchful eye and offer guidance, should you need it. Also, do we happen to have something for—” As he asks you for some sort of salve, just a few ways off, your eccentric “handler,” of sorts, watches the two of you interact.

Don’t get him wrong, such matters don’t really catch his attention, but being an elf does curse him with the ability to have extensive hearing. Something that he thinks Gale knew, and something you forgot. That would explain the lack of distance between you two.

He thinks it’s amusing how the wizard is trying to make conversation with you as if you were some foreign creature. His usual eloquence nowhere to be seen, and you seemed as unbothered as ever. Like how he usually saw you when you conversed with someone through a crystal.

It was a phone, not that he knew that though.

“They’re a real nice one, aren’t they?” Karlach says from her side of the camp which was nearer towards his tent and yours.

“Hm, yes. While that may be an admirable trait, it’s hardly going to get them anywhere if they keep this up.” Astarion huffed out, not very keen on your altruistic playstyle so far.

He doesn’t know much about what you do and don’t know, all he knows is that you do know of the events to unfold and could be the key to defeating his master.

All he needs is to keep you at his side. So he’ll allow you this much freedom.

“Oh come on, you. You can’t seriously think that after everything. Our camp’s pretty well maintained because of ‘em, not to mention the connections we’ve been able to get!” She fortifies her statement by knocking on her chest, the engine humming within feels lighter and newer since you’ve informed her of the tiefling blacksmith at the grove.

He hums in response, returning to reading his book as he thinks about his growing hunger. He’ll have to hunt soon enough. While your positive reputation occasionally reflects on him by proxy, it can also reflect negatively due to the alleged nature of your relationship. If he wants the journey to a way of understanding the tadpoles to be a more comfortable one, he has to at least prevent their trust in him from diminishing.

Night falls later than he’d have liked, having waited for everyone to be asleep so that he may prowl the forest for sustenance.

The rest were sound asleep in their bedroll as the skirmish from earlier on in the day had proven to be sufficiently tiring. The crackling fire surely brings a lulling warmth that he supposes he’ll have to miss out on for a while.

As he begins to slink off into the darkness, he looks back to gauge his surroundings and catches your form from across the settlement. It seems you were tallying away the items in the shared chest and double-checking to see that everything is checked and balanced with your records.

Your shoulders jump at his suddenly standing form, but try to understand his intentions. You mouth, “where?” with a very confused face, to which he responds with a simple shushing motion and waits for your acknowledgement.

You nod slowly, and he holds your gaze before sneaking off once again.

‘He’s coming back, right?’ You wondered. The progression of your experience now in comparison to the game was vastly different, and you didn’t know if all scenes, or only some, would present themselves in this world. You assume he planned to hunt, and while you trust his abilities, you want to make sure he’s attended to properly should he be harmed in any way.

So after retrieving a few potions, a journal, and a pencil, you stashed them in a satchel and positioned yourself at the base of the tree in the direction he left in. You weren’t particularly sleepy tonight, and planned to pass the time in wait of your companion.

There wasn’t much to do in this century to keep yourself entertained. The only things you’ve found so far were a few instruments and all manners of journals and inks.

The inkpot that you picked up appeared to be red this time. The game of, “which ink dye will I get this time?” will have to be the most of your entertainment for now. Not all too different from home, you suppose. And while writing keeps your mind at bay, illustrating all manners of wildlife have proven to be quite the fun exercise.

You’ve made a few notes on creatures that you and your company have encountered. The visual elements of a drawing allowed you and the others to keep track of materials that could be salvaged from them, and their resistances to certain attacks.

Though as much as you liked depicting such lifeforms in paper, you’ve come to be very interested in portraying your vampire friend.

Evidence of your interest present in the pages filled with his likeness as you search for an unmarked page. You’ve made a few of the others, yes, but anyone who would gain access to your journal would surely see which member of the group you favor more.

You continued to draw, and occasionally write, on the parchment as you waited for Astarion to come back. All sense of time evading you as you focus on the task at hand.

A perfect opportunity for a tired rogue to surprise an unsuspecting human.

“And what are you still doing up, little one?” He appears from behind the very tree you rested against, causing you to spill a bit of ink on your thumb.

You clicked your tongue, not at all annoyed by the character but by your absentmindedness and now stained appendage.

“Sorry, I was just waiting for you.” You sealed the inkpot, and gathered your materials. Effectively, but unknowingly, hiding your work from peering eyes that were the same deep red as your finger.

“I’m very flattered, darling. But couldn’t you wait until morning? I'm sure this couldn’t have been all too important, yes?” He gestures to your satchel, referring to your journal, but you misinterpreted it as him asking for your medical supplies.

“Oh, that depends. Are you hurt, by any chance? I stayed awake in case you might've needed help tending to yourself.” You opened the pouch to reveal its contents to him, your stained thumb in full view.

The sight makes him sigh out, but is thankful for your offered service.

“I’m alright, nothing of interest happened while I was away.” He considers telling you about the nature of his little…'escapade.' He's unaware if you are of his condition, and he doesn’t wish to out himself if not necessary to avoid possible conflict. So he settles for advising you to rest.

“We need you well rested, my dear. You sleep. I’ll keep watch.” The dialogue is familiar, and you can’t stop yourself from letting a small laugh out as you responded with an equally familiar line

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for that.” You lower your head as you usually do in gratitude.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He mirrors your gesture, albeit in a way that is most appropriate for someone of his character. “Sweet dreams.”

You walked back to the chest. Returning the potions and ink you’ve plucked from the supply, but keeping the rest of the pouch’s materials with you as you turn in for the night. Awaiting the promise of further study that a new day typically makes.

As Astarion is left with his own thoughts, a sour taste still in his mouth from his earlier meal, he thinks about the man in the journal you kept. He did not see much, only a vague outline of the figure. He thinks about who, or what, it could have been but dismisses the thought rather quickly.

He has no time for a mysterious person with hair less perfect than his own, touching his untainted locks as he does.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Thank you everyone for your interest in the series!! As per the request of some, I'll now be adding a taglist!

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, and @tiannamortis for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x mc #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#aware!astarion #though I guess not so aware--#lol

1K notes · View notes

theragethatisdesire · 11 months

Text

"nel bene e nel male" - eren x reader, 18+!!!

i have several other wips working right now but i fell in love with the "ti penso" universe so i wanted to follow this eren x reader a little further down the road. i wouldn't call it a series but....i love them. this is from eren's pov, so we get to see how he thinks of reader, their relationship, etc. and it was SO fun to get in his head. i love ti penso eren sm and he's adorable, so i hope u guys like this one as much as the last!

pairing: eren x afab!reader

wc: 4.8k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), knife (not in a sexual way like a cooking way bu still), consensual hook-up, established relationship, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving) penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, cheating (don't worry it's a trick), multiple orgasm, creampie, aftercare, eren being a nervous wreck

title means "for better or for worse" in italian i LOVE these two mwah xxxx

Eren isn’t really a middle-ground kind of guy. The world’s black and white the way he sees it, so he either loves something, or he hates it. He hates the soreness settling in his bones, loves seeing the familiar city lights again after the last few days.

He’s been in Dubai on business this week; loved the food, hated his hotel room, loved the locals, hated the plane ride, and while the loves outweighed the hates enough to make the trip great, it didn’t compare to what was waiting for him in New York. Eren’s fortunate enough to be coming home to a little slice of his own personal heaven, ready to open his apartment door to find you in his favorite position: wearing one of his old t-shirts, snuggled up on the couch, reading if he had to put money on it. Maybe he’ll get lucky, and you’ll be cooking. God, he’s so sick of hotel food and airport food he could cry.

In the elevator, sliding up through the building to the seventy-first floor, he gets a rush of elation at the familiarity of it all. He studies the mirrored wall, smirking to himself when the memory of him pressing you against it, two fingers deep in you, surfaces. That’s something else he loves: unraveling you where someone could see, watching how flustered you get. Eren’s first order of business, he decides, is to shower. His second order of business will be to bury himself between your legs: cock, face, fingers, whatever you prefer. He’s feeling generous and homesick.

The smell of garlic and oil hits his nose when he opens the door; Eren has to bite back a groan. After Ymir and Historia’s wedding, you two developed a bit of a love affair with Italy, and had returned enough times for you to master the cuisine. Italian food now reminds him of you, of that first indulgence in years against the wall of his villa apartment, and his legs nearly buckle at the sensation of it all.

“Missed you.” Your back is to him when he ambles into the kitchen, cutting tomatoes, so he settles for pressing himself up against your back, cradling your hips in his hands. Your little sleep shorts rub against his crotch, and Eren hopes he has the willpower to at least make it through dinner without tearing you open.

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally, letting him grope you. Eren frowns into your hair; that wasn’t exactly the enthusiastic welcome he was expecting.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” you shrug. He peeks around your shoulder; your cheeks are wet.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Eren grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. When he recognizes the look in your eyes, he almost wishes he hadn’t.

When you’re angry, you shout, you cry a little, normal stuff. When you’re really angry, you’re cold. The look in your eyes tells him he’s done something very bad, a look of icy apathy, disinterest. He hasn’t seen it since you left him on the sidewalk outside of your last apartment together, before Italy, before the last two years of domestic bliss he’s enjoyed with you amidst your crazy work schedules. Eren’s heart drops to his stomach.

“Baby…”

“Who’s Anna?”

Your question nearly knocks him on his ass. He’s vaguely aware that his face must show that feeling, making him look more suspicious than he really is. How the fuck is he supposed to explain Anna without ratting on himself?

“Who?” Idiot, Eren thinks to himself. Who? is never the right question when your girlfriend asks about another woman in your life, Eren knows that by now. The pure shock has turned the sensical part of his brain off.

“Who,” you repeat, scoffing and turning back to your cooking.

Very aware that you have a knife, Eren rounds the counter so he can see you, monitor that look in your eyes while also putting some space between himself and the nine-inch blade in your right hand. “I know it sounds cliche, but it’s not what it–”

“Looks like?” You cut him off, eyes down towards the cutting board. “I’m sure the nine zoom calls I found on your personal laptop are nothing, nothing at all.”

Eren swallows, thick around the lump in his throat. He should have had his fucking assistant do this, he thinks, shouldn’t have been so picky with everything, but it was something so special, so personal, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. Hell, he hadn’t even told Armin and Mikasa yet.

“She sent you a very vague email, but I’m sure you’ll get the message. She said she has some ‘really special’ things picked out for you, if you missed it,” your gaze finally meets his, chilling him to the bone and boring into his very soul, “La Perla or Agent Provocateur? You’ve always preferred the Perla, but–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Eren mumbles, twitching where he stands. “I’d never cheat on you, you know that.”

“I’m sure,” a mirthless laugh slips from your pretty lips. Eren wants to cry; if only you knew, if only he could bring himself to tell you, but that would ruin the point of it. If you’d just understand– “My bags are packed either way. Booked a flight to London, too. I’ve always wanted to live there.”

Eren’s heart drops further from its tight pit in his stomach; it’s surely fallen out of his ass onto the floor now. “Bags? Baby, no, just let me exp–”

“Let you what?” Here’s your anger, refreshed and fiery in your eyes, rearing its head. Eren balks.

“Well, I– I can’t really explain, but if you just trust me…”

“Trust you? I did trust you, all the way back in Italy!” Your voice cracks at the same time as Eren’s heart. “I took a chance on you, and you fucked me. Do you remember how afraid I was to dive back into you again? And look where it fucking got me.”

Another furious, disbelieving chuckle. Eren hates that laugh, hates it so much he can feel his skin prickle. Against his better judgment, he scowls.

“You actually think I’m cheating on you? When the fuck would I even have time?”

“Is she from Stockholm? Paris? Skinny bitch from LA, maybe? You spend an awful lot of time on the go,” you hiss. Eren rolls his eyes.

“I fucking love you! You’ve never been able to get that through your thick-ass skull,” his voice is getting louder, but he can’t stop himself. If he was thinking rationally, he knew he could make you understand, but he’s not thinking rationally. Eight days of jet lag and work are catching up to him, and his temper leaps out ahead of his words.

“Well, I hope Anna does. I hope you love her, and I hope she fucks you good,” you sniffle, another hot rush of angry tears streaming down your face. Eren hates that too; can still feel the visceral pumping of his heart where it’s sitting discarded on the floor.

“She doesn’t love me,” he grits out, “and she definitely doesn’t fuck me.”

“Well yeah, I’d assume you fuck her,” you snap, chopping into a tomato furiously. Maybe it’s your tone, maybe it’s the tears, the finality in the chopping, he doesn’t have time to acknowledge what breaks something in him, but he feels it tear into two. He can’t stop himself.

“She a fucking ring designer,” he nearly shouts, hearing the cabinets rattle from the timbre of his voice, “a ring designer from Tiffany. That’s who Anna is.”

He’s hardly even aware that the words have left his mouth until he sees your reaction. Everything in your body tenses, your hand clenches down tight around the knife. Your mouth– Eren can’t help but sigh inwardly at your perfect little mouth– drops slightly ajar, the tears themselves seem to freeze where they’re rolling down your cheeks.

“A…what?”

Eren’s defeated now, and his sigh shows it. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, not feeling any better now that he’s been forced to ruin his own surprise. “Didn’t want to tell you this way, but yeah.”

“Like, a…”

“An engagement ring designer,” Eren says quietly, barely able to force the words out. Sure, he may have solved the initial issue of his nonexistent cheating, but now he has your commitment issues to work with. His breath is lodged firmly in his throat and not a sound passes between you two. He can see the gears in your head turning, brow furrowed in concentration as you try to think through your feelings.

Ordinarily, Eren loves that look, thinks it’s so sexy how your forehead wrinkles, your tongue darting out between your teeth while you write or do your morning crossword. Now, he’s watching you with that look on your face, not able to breathe, feel, or even think.

The hesitation is setting in, panic gripping him. What was he thinking, proposing to you? You hate to be tied down, married to your work. He’s hurt you so many times; God knows it was an uphill battle just getting you to let him love you again. You’re a flighty, easily-frightened creature, but he does what he can to keep you with him, keep you as happy as he can. He lives and breathes you, doesn’t know if he would survive you leaving him again.

He couldn’t help himself, though, never could when it came to you. For years he’s been needing more, more touching you, more fucking you, more loving you. This is just that in a new sense: seeing if he just could get the right ring, make the right plan to keep you forever. He’d never admit it, but he’d even gotten hard at the thought of you wearing his ring day in and day out for the rest of your life. He couldn’t resist making you his wife, his life partner, putting his babies in you–

Eren pockets that thought as soon as it crosses his mind; now is not the time for an erection. He knows you inside and out, knows how your chest rises and falls while you sleep and has the scent of your shampoo burned into his olfactory nerves for the rest of his life, but you manage to surprise him, just this once.

A small smile toys at your mouth. “An engagement ring designer?”

Eren’s chest decompresses so violently he thinks he might pass out. “Yeah. I was thinking–”

“About proposing? You’re serious?” Your face is still puffy and wet, but the grin growing on your face is worth everything Eren could ever think to own, eyes practically glowing.

“God, of course I’m serious,” Eren rasps, the air gone from his lungs, “fuckin’ love you. I’ve wanted this since the day I met you, how do you not know that by now?”

“Are you like…” you trail off, looking meaningfully at him, then the floor. Is he proposing?

Eren doesn’t even know if he is, brain foggy after the whirlwind ten minutes that’s just gone by. A lifetime with you flashes behind his eyes: a beautiful wedding, definitely in Italy, signing the papers and buying a home together, filling it with as many curly-haired babies as you’ll give him. When Eren comes back to reality, his body’s moved without consulting him, and he’s on his knees, holding your thighs– God, your perfect thighs– in his hands. He’s fairly sure he’s supposed to just be on one knee, but he doesn’t care; he’s not asking, he’s begging.

“Yeah– fuck, I think I am,” Eren laughs at himself, breathless, “I am.”

“Oh my God,” your hands are over your mouth, holding in the wet little hiccups shaking your frame, “oh my God, you are.”

And right there, all of Eren’s anxiety melts off of his body in a clean sheathe. Looking up at you, the fresh tears welling in those beautiful eyes that turn him to putty whenever you need to, he’s sure. Even if you say no– which now, he doesn’t think you will– he has to try. He owes you that, all of himself.

“You know I love you, I– I live for you. Want you to be mine, forever. Will you have me?” Eren’s voice has a waver to it, bending and wobbling under all of his emotions. The slightest inclination of your head gives way to an excited nod, and Eren practically leaps to his feet, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you, just like a movie.

“Eren, ow– s’tight,” you giggle, wheezing in his grip.

“Can you blame me?” Eren laughs back, feeling like a child instead of a full-grown man who just made the biggest commitment of his life, but as painful as it is to release his grip, he sets you down. “You're fucking serious? You’ll really marry me?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “yeah, I’ll marry you. You better get me a big-ass rock, though.”

“I’ll get you the biggest one in the world, spend every dime I have,” he says, and you’re in his arms again, legs wrapped around his waist and arms thrown around his neck, his face might burst, “you can show it off to all your friends, show ‘em just how much I love you.”

“Oh, Eren,” you trail off, kissing him in lieu of words. Eren doesn’t think your lips have ever been so sweet against his, doesn’t think he’s ever been so hungry for your body.

He’s got the path to your bedroom memorized, especially under his current condition: wrapped up in a tangle of limbs, stumbling clumsily and desperately trying not to lose his footing as you kiss your way down his neck. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he fumbles with the knob, throws the door open, practically tackles you onto the plush bed. Eren doesn’t even care that he stinks like plane and airport and travel; the scent of you envelops him.

“Love you so fuckin’ much, baby,” he mutters offhandedly against your collarbone, pausing from the bruise he’s sucking into the skin, “now you’re all mine, forever.”

“Forever,” you agree, chest heaving beneath him. Eren makes quick work of the silky sleep set you’ve chosen, has a brief moment of clarity to think how funny it was that you picked a sexy pajama set to argue with him. He loves you, God, he’s overwhelmed with love, dizzy with it, out of his mind.

Eren mouths his way around your tits, palming with one hand and pressing the other against the small of your back, pulling you up to him. He hates the idea of space between you two. You’re his forever now, his to push and pull and kiss and bite.

“My pretty little wife,” Eren feels a grin stretch over his face, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast. You moan under him, music to his ears. Eren loves a lot about you, but the little simpering sounds you’re making might be his favorite.

“Like that,” it’s just a whisper above him, but it catches his attention.

“Like what? My mouth?”

“Like when you call me that.”

Eren’s grin grows wider, feral. “Call you what?”

“Eren!”

“Say it,” he slides back up to your mouth, licking into it, “want to hear it out of this pretty mouth, not mine.”

“Your wife,” you give in more quickly than he expects, warmth radiating off of your face.

“So mean to me,” he hums, giving you one last kiss before traveling down, letting his hand come down to rub insistently at your clit. He swallows a throaty groan; you’re wet, soaked even. Just for him.

“Fuck, Eren– ‘m not mean to you,” you’re pouting through the little whimpers coming out of you, eyebrows knotted on your forehead.

“You are,” Eren insists, nosing at your clit. Jesus Christ, he thinks to himself, you smell delicious. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, nibbles a little at the sensitive skin. “Picking a fight with me, thinking I would ever, ever, go looking at anyone else. How could I? Already got the best pussy in the world right here.”

That earns him another long moan from you, your hands coming to his hair and shoving him insistently towards your center. He’ll make you wait, he decides, still in control enough of his faculties to engage in his favorite pastime: teasing you to the point of tears, leading you to your breaking point and shoving you up against it.

You urge him to you, still pulling on his hair. Eren, a devious grin across his face, resists, blowing cool air on you instead. You whine, hips canting at him temptingly. Eren’s willpower falters just slightly, and he gives you a quick, tentative lick up your center, earning himself a satisfied whimper.

“Need more, baby?”

“You know what I fucking need,” you grumble. Eren chuckles.

“See? Always so mean to me. Can’t have what you want when you’re mean, you know better.”

“Please,” you breathe from above him, voice urgent at his threat, “please, Eren, I can’t take it, I–”

“There you go,” he settles himself in between your legs, pulling you to his face by your hips. If Eren loves one thing in his black-and-white world, it’s having his mouth on you. It’s probably embarrassing how often he asks to sink his tongue into you, how pitifully he begs day in and day out, but he’s beyond caring. It’s well-established in your daily routine: you have your crosswords to keep you content and clear your head, and Eren has your pussy.

He’s gone eight long days without it, and he licks into you like a starved man, hell, maybe he is. Eren groans into you, echoing your own pathetic simpering.

“Can’t wait to put a ring on this pussy, my beautiful pussy,” he speaks into your folds, tickling them in a way that you evidently like, giving him a garbled agreement. Eren relishes your cunt, sucking on your clit and tickling just at the entrance to you with his tongue, working you the way he knows will have you spiraling towards your end.

Without fully realizing it, Eren’s hand is sliding down to palm himself over his pants. Before he knows it, he’s rutting into his own hand like a fucking teenager, couldn’t keep himself together with his face between your legs. Eren prides himself on his stamina, but with the heightened emotions and the week without you, that's gone right out of the window. He’s riding a little too close to the line; he desperately wants you to cum on his face, but at this rate, he’ll blow in his pants if he lets you.

Steeling every ounce of willpower he possesses, Eren pulls his face out of you, takes a deep breath. You whine, reaching for him unsuccessfully.

“Sh, I know,” Eren shushes you, chest swelling with pride at your open need, “so needy for me, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his mouth to yours.

“Gonna fuck you, okay?” You nod urgently into his shoulder, legs already hooked around his hips. Eren’s head’s spinning like it never has before, drunk on you. He manages to get half of his cock into you before he has to stop, grinding his jaw and trying to think about anything other than how your cunt’s milking him.

“Eren,” you plead, trying to urge him forward with your ankles. A deep inhale rattles practically his entire body.

“M'trying not to cum, hold on.” He’s created a monster out of you, he thinks, and maybe out of himself, too.

“I need– fuck, need to…” you slide one hand down your body, rubbing frantically at your clit. Eren’s stuck watching, watching your perfect body swell and shrink with your heavy breaths, watching you try to make yourself cum only half-full.

“Do you think you can?” His words are hardly a breath; he winces when you clench around him harder. You’ve always had trouble cumming without being full, usually finding your release with Eren buried fully inside you, nudging at your cervix. You’re always begging for more, just one more finger, want to be fucked a little harder. The fact that you need him so badly you’re willing to try, make the most out of what you have, makes his heart and his cock pound in tune. Poor thing.

“Yeah, I, I need to cum so bad, Eren, it’s– shit, so bad, I just–”

“Go ahead, do it then,” Eren firmly interrupts your babbling, a bit of a tell that you’re getting close. If anything gets you off, it’s authority. He leans down, painfully aware of the extra inch of him the new angle pushes into you, trying to focus, trying so hard not to cum yet. He takes your face roughly in his hand, forcing your heart-filled eyes to bore into his. He bares his teeth in a disbelieving, probably half-crazed grin. He loves you so much, needy little thing that you are.“Make yourself cum on me, fucking brat. Can’t even give me two seconds, can you?”

Your bottom lip trembles as you shake your head, more tears welling in your eyes. Eren can feel the quivering of your legs around him, any second now.

“Love me so much, don’t you? So impatient,” He tsks, thumbing at your lip and throwing in a couple light smacks to your cheek for good measure. “Can’t wait to be mine, can’t wait to cum, can’t wait for me to marry you and fuck you everyday, that’s it isn’t it? Gonna fuck you as much as you want baby, my perfect little wife.”

That does it; Eren has to close his eyes when you cum, cunt tightening vice-like around him, but he can feel you squirting on his lower abdomen, feel the cum practically gushing out of you. God help him. You squirm and tremble underneath him, crying out for him to fuck you. He knows you need him, need him to move, and somehow, some way, he does.

He bullies his way into you, feeling you pulse around him and growling deep in his chest. Your eyes fly open at the movement inside of you, flitting between his face and where he's rolling his hips into you.

“Yes,” you hiss, “yeah, please–”

“That’s better, right?” Eren’s in heaven, losing his grip on anything around him that’s not your pussy. “My girl needs to be full, yeah?”

“Mhm,” your eyes are rolling back into your head, drunk on the way he’s pumping in and out of you. Eren’s in awe of you; you’re such a perfect, needy creature, and now you’re all his forever. Shit, he’s not going to last, he can feel it. He slides a hand down your stomach, thrumming insistently at your clit, making you squeal.

“Fuck! Eren, I just– shit, I just came, s’too much.”

“You can cum again, right? Can't be selfish, now,” Eren huffs, stomach tightening with the signs of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna spend all my money on your fucking ring, and you can’t even cum one more time for me?”

“Eren…” you’re whimpering, damn near crying at this point, tears streaming down your temple. He feels you clench, somehow makes himself thrust faster. Eren loves this part. He’s got you now, and he knows it.

“You say love me, now you gotta show me,” he just needs a few more seconds, come on, “if you want that ring so bad, you gotta cum for it baby.”

Your back arches so violently that had he not known better, Eren might think you’ve been shocked; your pussy squeezes the life out of him, triggers his orgasm along with you. The sound he emits is inhuman, but he’s too lost, too gone to care, shooting rope after rope of cum deep in you. He collapses mid-orgasm, clutching your convulsing body to him, some unconscious part of his brain is directing him to kiss your shoulder, bite into it, and he does. He tastes that salty sheen of your skin, eyes rolling back into his head.

Neither of you speak, just lean into each other for a minute or two. Eren’s vaguely aware of the cum leaking out from where you’re still joined. He hasn’t bothered to pull out yet; pulling out of you is on the hate list. His cock twitches painfully, though, still interested in where he’s buried so deep he can feel your heartbeat. His dick might be aching for a round two, but Eren’s pretty sure he’d knock out in the middle of things if he tried. He groans and rolls off of you, sliding out with a pang of regret.

He props himself up on a shaky elbow, tucking a few of your stray hairs behind your ear. He wants to see your face, your perfect face, sweaty and blotchy and fucked out. You grant him a sleepy smile– oh he loves that face, quickly takes a mental picture to file away.

“You good?”

“So good,” you answer, stretching your arms. “Shower?”

Eren wrinkles his nose, not entirely thrilled at the prospect of washing this gorgeous, post-sex shine off of you. Your face grows insistent. “Shower, Eren.”

“Fine,” he pouts.

“What? You stink.”

“Not that bad,” he lifts an arm, sniffs. Oof, yeah, “not that bad” indeed. He lets you lead him to the shower, waits patiently as you test the water, even lets you rub some of that scratchy body-scrub crap that you swear by all over him.

“Better, right?” You raise your voice over the high-pressure water cascading around you, grinning knowingly. Eren hates conceding, hates admitting when he’s being a bit of a brat, but God, does he love you. He smiles crookedly.

“Much better.”

“So, about before…” Eren’s heart skips a beat, his throat closes. Is this the part where you regret saying yes? Thought he was joking? He should have found a different way out. No, damn it, he should have stuck with the plan, the flowers, the sunset, the quartet– “Can I meet the ring designer?”

Oh. “Um, if you– yeah, if you want. Thought you would like it better as a surprise.”

You cock an eyebrow. “What do you know about my taste in diamonds?”

“Mm, big?”

“Well, yeah,” you giggle, “but do you know what carat I’d prefer? Cut? Setting?”

Eren blushes, frowns. So he has been doing this all wrong. Figures. “That’s what the ring designer’s for, isn’t she?”

“You can still help,” you soothe him, a soapy hand brushing over his cheek, “I’d just like a say, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you mad?” He gives a voice to the fear thudding inside of him, the insecurity clawing at his ribs. You cock your head at him, confused and cute, but even that’s not enough to make him feel better. It’s a black-and-white world, and he needs to hear you say it, perfectly clear.

“Mad? Eren, this is…the happiest day of my life. Why would I be mad?”

“Because…” he scrambles for the words, suddenly sheepish, “I had this whole thing planned for it– for you. We were gonna be on the Empire State Building with a rose wreath and singers–”

“Eren,” you cut him off, serious as he’s ever seen you, “are you actually being serious? Like, actually?”

His face is hot, God it burns with embarrassment. “I mean, sort of.”

“It was perfect,” you sense his discomfort, running a stray hand through his hair, “okay well, not perfect per se, but it was us. We aren’t…we aren’t flowers and Empire State Building people. We’re stupid fights and long distance and hot sex people. That’s our life, and I am beyond okay with that.”

All of the unease evaporates from his body. How do you always have the answer, the words he needs to hear? You’re always right. The quartet may have been a bit much, he reflects, pulling you to him.

“If you’re happy, I am,” he means it, and places a kiss to the part of your hair. You hum contentedly against him, purring against his chest.

The shower goes on as all of your showers together do: you manhandle Eren into shampoo and conditioner (hate list: burns his eyes, slimy), grab miraculously toasty towels from the warmer by the bathtub (love list: cozy), convince him to climb into bed still half-wet, limbs heavy with exhaustion (hate list: his side of the bed’s going to smell like wet dog tomorrow), throw on the Kardashians’ new show (love and hate lists: depends who's asking).

You knock out before him, unaffected by jet lag, drooling into the cavern between his pecs and making a very unflattering face that he makes sure to snap a picture of. You need an updated contact photo in his phone anyway.

He feels unusually contemplative, staring out at the big city from your own little corner of it, making a mental list of all of the people you need to call tomorrow, and what order they should go in. Eren’s world might be big sometimes as he jetsets around, might be small when he’s buried inside of you, focus narrowed on the heat pulled tight around him. It’s always one way or the other, though, and tonight, practically his entire world is laying on his chest, glowing a bright, bridal white.

- tagging @philliamwrites as u requested for my next piece! hope u love it bestie <3

#eren jaeger #aot smut #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jeager x you #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #smut #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #i'm so in love with these two they make my heart melt #ti penso universe

866 notes · View notes

poisonous-honey · 3 months

Text

Soul Crushing Guilt

(This is a re-upload: Originally posted to UniverseUchu on December 2nd, 2022)

You've treated them all like toys. In your defence this was just another video game to you a couple of weeks ago, but they're actually real with thoughts and feelings of their own. You don't know how to feel.

Who’s Here! Venti

Contains: isekai reader, Self Aware Genshin (not the Cult SAGAU), Insecurities (reader), Hurt/Comfort I guess it’s called

Note: I will say this takes place in the middle of a story, but it works on its own and I really liked how this turned out. I do have more written, but it's incomprehensible (even after a whole year it's still incomprehensible lmao)

Sitting on the cliffside of Starsnatch is not where you intended to be at this time, but your soul crushing guilt and insecurities have led you here. You needed to be away from all the positivity from everyone in Mondstadt. Their kindness was only worsening your mood. Staring over the edge, lost deep inside your head, you almost miss the way the wind whirls around you before you hear the one person you wanted to avoid the most right now.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why’d you leave without saying anything? Everyone back at Mond is worried, you know.”

You don’t say anything in response and let Venti walk up and sit next to you. You both stay silent and watch the waves crash onto the beach. Venti occasionally takes glances in your direction, but for the most part his eyes are on the scenery. After a few minutes, he tries asking you again.

“I know you told us that we aren’t overwhelming you, but please, if we actually are-”

“That’s not the reason I left Venti.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence is all that greets him. “Please, we just want you to be comfortable with us. We can’t help if we don’t know.”

Hearing him say that only makes you feel more guilty. They’re all so nice to you, and for what? The pressure and the guilt keeps building and building the more you stay here. Everyone’s been so understanding and kind, but all you’ve done before is use them any which way. You’ve judged them for superficial reasons and have even gotten them killed on numerous occasions. Venti showing up and putting the blame on himself and the others like they’re the reason you left just adds onto your shame as tears start to escape your eyes.

Upon seeing your eyes water, Venti slightly panics. “W-Wait, why are you crying!? I’m sorry for whatever-”

“Venti please stop.”

You turn to look Venti in the eyes, and see the panic and worry etched onto his face. It only makes you feel worse.

“Venti… Why are you here? Why do you keep following me?’ You look away from him, trying to keep from balling on the spot. ‘Why are you so nice to me?”

Hearing this, Venti’s face slowly scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m going to be nice to you. Where is this coming from?”

“You were conscious the entire time I was playing. I used you all like you were dolls for my amusement. After I got you, didn’t you feel like I was holding you captive or-or like some sort of toy forced to do my bidding? I don’t understand why no one hates me! I feel so guilty of everything I’ve said and done, but everyone’s apologizing to me like they’re in the wrong, and I don’t get it! Especially you! As the God of Freedom, don’t you hate me for taking away your own freedom from you? I just don’t understand… So why…” Unable to continue, you look away as you try to wipe your eyes and wait for Venti to finally tell you he hates you. That he’s going to stop pretending and get up and leave you alone. In your mind you know he would never, that's not who he is, but fear and anxiety is irrational.

Your breath hitches as you feel his hands land on your cheeks and turn your head to look at him. Instead of the disgust or apathy your heart was expecting, Venti’s face is filled with sorrow.

“I can’t believe you would think so low of me.’ He looks downwards and wipes away a few tears with his thumbs before looking back at you with nothing but care. ‘I guess from your point of view that’s a reasonable assumption to make, but you seem to be forgetting one key detail.”

You stare at him as he proceeds to give you the smuggest look you’ve ever seen on him. “I came home extremely early on my banner, didn’t I?”

What he’s saying doesn’t make any sense to you. He’s already treating you extremely differently than you anticipated, and now his question is putting your already malfunctioning brain into overdrive. What did his banner have to do with anything?

“What? Venti I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to…’ Finally, it all starts to click into place as your eyes widen, and his stupid grin gets larger. ‘You… Did you influence the banner wishes???”

Venti laughs joyously as he lets go of your face. His eyes sparkle like he’s recounting the best moment of his life.

“Why yes, I did! I actually got in a lot of trouble for that! It's part of the reason you lost the next 50/50, but I couldn’t miss the chance to join your team. I refused to wait another second.”

“But why? I still don’t under-”

“I have the freedom to make my own choices, do I not? I wanted to join your team, so I did.”

His expression changes from smug to such a soft look. You have a hard time believing it is being directed at you.

“Why, yes, I may be the God of Freedom, but I’m also simply one of the many characters this game has to offer. I’m one of your many characters in particular. And out of such a colourful cast of individuals, I was your favourite. To be the reason someone even downloaded our game in the first place sends me over the moon. For everyone else, you still give their lives a purpose and have earned everyone’s respect. Sure, you might be a bit crass, but even when you were rude or made a mistake, you still treated everyone with more care than necessary. I especially could feel and hear the level of adoration you had for me through the screen. To me, there’s nothing I want more than to travel by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”

Such a heartwarming and earnest speech from Venti has your eyes start to water again. Not all of your insecurities and guilt have been lifted, you don’t think that kind of guilt will be something you can get rid of, but with Venti here…

“You’re allowed to stay for as long as you want.”

He cups your cheeks again while looking straight into your eyes.

“Then till death do we part, my dear player.”

You break down and cry as Venti pulls you in for a hug. With Venti by your side, you know he’ll help you through your guilt with as much care and love as you’ve given him.

#sagau #self aware genshin #Venti x reader #Genshin x reader #x reader #self-indulgence ftw baby #I don’t know if I’m going to post more of this #If I am I’ll make a header to organize just a little bit #I really love what I have #but I’d need to heavily edit it because what I actually have written down is nigh incomprehensible #Pois.Posts #Pois.Writes

317 notes · View notes

alicerosejensen · 2 months

Text

Something about sin. Pt.3

Warning: Age difference, Older!Leon, Reader daughter of another DSO agent, fem.reader, mention of sex, guilt.

A/N: The penultimate part. The second part was chaotic and probably the weakest, but it is what it is. I’m still trying to overcome my chronic fatigue and constant apathy, so if it’s not difficult for you, please write a few kind words if you liked this text.

I still decided that there would be four parts instead of three. The final chapter will probably be smaller in volume, but it will have a lot of dialogues and the resolution of the conflict itself, so I decided that it would be better to write it separately and not in one large text.

Once again, I apologize for the delay in publication, but sometimes our health fails us all.

Part 1

Part 2

And he would burn in hell for all the lust he feels for this lost innocent soul.

Your father would never forgive him for this, just as Leon will not forgive himself for having you in his arms. Albeit of his own free will, but getting out of bed, going to the bath and rinsing his face with cold water, Leon prefers to take all the blame on himself. You are innocent... you were innocent and he stretched out his dirty hands to you, put you into his bed three months after that kiss in the barn and, no matter how disgusting it may sound, slept with you.

The most tender, most precious girl he's ever had of all, he knows that he would have made the same decision every time if God had brought him back to the day he kissed you, allowing himself to desire you. That's why it's nice to come back to bed with you, even if it's soul-destroying from himself.

You destroyed him thoroughly.

You are his sin, a sweet obsession and a mad desire designed to crush all the little that he has managed to build in his hectic life. You mock him, tear him apart so that he pursues you and falls into this sinful ocean of passion without regrets. And Leon can't do anything to himself. He was older than you, almost twice as old, well, that was fine with you. The feeling of comfort and security never left while Leon was around, as if it was something you needed all your life. As he lay back in bed, he replayed your dialogue in his head. It's one thing to kiss while muffling the egregious voice in his own head that it's not worth it, and it's completely another to insert dick into his friend's daughter.

Leon was the first in every way for you and he understood it perfectly without words. It's not that your dad forbade you to date boys, but maybe your father's attention really wasn't enough if you reciprocated his feelings?

"I could be your father… Your father and I are the same age…"

"But still, you're not my father," you smiled then, begging him with puppy eyes to teach you love and move on to something more than ordinary kisses, which of course you were crazy about, but you want to understand what it's like to be with someone you love, even if he's much older than you.

You promised him that you were ready for more, for a new stage, and Leon continued to feel as if he was seducing a young girl, doing something dirty and vicious with you, something against your will. This, of course, was not the case, but the anxiety did not go away. Asking to think about this decision, to weigh everything, led nowhere, and in the end everything happened.

"Are you sure you want this?; Are you sure?; we can stop, sweetie, at any time you want"

His voice, saturated with anxiety, accompanied you throughout your first sex with him, and it was never as described in the books... however, this was not surprising and you knew very well that what is on the pages and in films differs greatly in real life. And yet, it's good that you got Leon and not someone else, because he took care of your feelings, trying to prepare you in such a way as to reduce all discomfort to a minimum: gentle kisses, a prepared bottle of lubricant, long intimacy , careful touches. All his movements were careful and together with you, he essentially got to know your body, trying to help you and himself understand what you would like in sex. he allowed you to touch him, showed how he liked it, smiling, kissing you on the corner of your lips, seeing the embarrassment on your beautiful face.

"My dear, do you remember?" his reminders constantly sounded while his thumb caressed your swollen clit with round movements, "I will stop as soon as you say"

How could you forget? Leon was catching every emotion on your face, afraid to catch the pain, but it was good for you. It's better than if it was a guy your age who didn't give a damn about you. Leon was doing everything right, but he was still a monster in his head. You liked it. There was no blood, none of the things your friends used to scare you with, but you didn't see the stars in the sky either, no matter how funny it sounded. Just because it was the first time and yet Leon left almost a thousand kisses on your face before and after sex. He took you to the shower, gently ran a sponge over your body, washing away all traces of intimacy, wrapped you in a towel and put you back to bed, not forgetting to bring a glass of water. You were sitting on his bed and the man's hands were firmly holding you by the waist while he weightlessly touched the bridge of your nose with his lips asking about your well-being. You could joke that you really feel a little unwell after sex, but seeing your lover's panic, it would be wise not to play him like that, otherwise this could be your first and last sex with him.

"I don't regret it," you said, hoping that it would take some weight off his shoulders.

Leon reassured himself that even if nothing came of this relationship, at least your first man was the one who took care of you and did not run away the next morning, managing to tell his friends about the new notch on bedpost.

.. But yes, now if your father finds out that you've been fucked, then a fist in the nose will be the most merciful thing Leon can ever get. Most likely, it will be an explosion of epic proportions and a shootout worse than Hollywood action movies. What should it tell him? "Buddy, but we can still drink beer and watch football, it's just that now I'm still sleeping with your daughter, whom you've been caring for and cherishing all his life?" This is shit, not an explanation. If his friend had once confessed to him that he was sleeping with HIS daughter, Leon would have killed the bastard and disposed of the corpse so that no evidence would be found. That's just that he is now the main culprit, and he does not want to leave your life when such a charming angel sleeps next to him in bed.

Leon doesn’t want to leave you, but he himself has no idea what outcome his actions will lead to. Hugging and pulling your body while you sleep, he kisses the back of your head, sincerely hoping that you won’t regret what happened between you, that you won’t cry in the morning, calling everything a mistake, but the devil is not as terrible as he is imagined...

A sound sleep was interrupted by caring strokes and soft kisses, although he is not a handsome prince, but he still got a sleeping beauty and it seems that the only thing you were unhappy with sitting with him at the kitchen table was that Leon woke you up too early. Like a gloomy owl with disheveled hair, you try to focus your gaze on coffee and not fall asleep while he says something and you ignore all his speeches until your name is called.

"Did you heard what I said?" and you honestly nod your head negatively to a heavy male sigh.

Trouble obviously doesn't come alone, fortunately you don't cry or curse him, instead you just snuggle up to his back and pull him back into the bedroom to sleep an extra couple of hours with him in your arms like the whole last night.

He was a good man. Not ideal, with his own problems, fears, experiences, but still he continued to care about you more than about himself, so he carefully turned to face you, hugging you, starting to gently rock you to the sides, burying his nose in the top of your head.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked still anxiously.

"All was good"

With Leon you could relax and trust him, last night he was perfectly prepared and constantly asked if you could continue or if he should stop, and you know that if you said yes, he would immediately end everything without caring about his feelings. The main thing is you! As a result, he treats you like a princess all day long, taking care of you. He even volunteered to comb your hair, which now smelled like his shampoo, and while Leon was fiddling with the comb, at the same time remembering the jokes that your father loves so much, you just laughed and enjoyed the complete adoration of his person.

“I’ll order food for us, and you relax on the couch. Choose the movie you want.”

Not surprisingly, Leon doesn’t know how to cook, he doesn’t have much time to improve this skill, but you don’t expect him to pick you up in his arms and put you on this very sofa, covering your legs with a blanket and handing you the TV remote control. Another girl obviously wouldn’t like it, but not you, although you didn’t feel helpless. There was some discomfort, but nothing scary or that would require consulting a doctor. As a result, the two of you spent another day lying cuddled on the couch, eating pizza, watching, flipping through channels and discussing various things. Despite the age difference, there was no feeling that Leon was some kind of ancient old man walking around with an ancient push-button telephone (although you assured him that there was nothing wrong with that). He smiled, playfully flicking you on the nose and it seems he even exhaled and came to reconciliation with his inner voice, but exactly until the moment when your father called.

And conscience woke up again.

He protected you, he didn't hurt you and took good care of you, Leon is ready as a faithful doggie to accept any thing you ask him, because he is...

It's worth admitting to yourself that this is not an affair because if Leon just wanted to sleep with someone, he went to a bar and found someone who wouldn't mind spending the night with him, and you are something more. He wants to cherish you and shower kisses on your face while you're lying serenely on his couch watching the show. A good excuse for the conscience that was gnawing into his brain and telling him that he was an ordinary son of a bitch, screaming: "Look, you took advantage of the poor girl's naivety. The daughter of your friend who supported you after China! How well did you repay his kindness by dragging his favorite daughter into bed!"

The phone rang but couldn't find the strength to answer.

You asked if everything was okay, to which Leon sighs and answers yes, asking not to worry. And then he gave you his sweater and you curled up next to him and fell asleep without caring about anything, because the thunderstorm with lightning no longer scared you both. And Leon really slept well for the first time in a long time, hugging you to his chest, knowing that when he wakes up he will find you where you fell asleep - with him.

No more notes with lipstick marks or paper airplanes on the nearby pillow. Besides, it’s so nice when you snuggle up to him at night, trying to hug him. Leon allows it. Your hands are much warmer. this makes him fall out of reality when he turns to you, wrapping a blanket around your body and pressing you to him so that you don’t freeze. It can rain outside as long as you like, his phone can ring off the hook with calls all night long, but his lips will still find yours and kiss you tenderly.

The forbidden fruit is very sweet.

For the first time in years, the government agent felt like he had something to treasure. Sometimes he envied your father for the fact that he could return to a cozy home where his beloved wife and daughter were always waiting for him, eat delicious home-cooked food and sleep in bed with his loved one. Not much is needed for happiness, according to Leon, and he would also like to receive this gift. But probably for you it's all just an affair. For children, you are young and he himself is not trying to knock you up. Besides, marriage is a matter that should be approached wisely, and neither you nor Leon are fools, so he doesn’t even console himself with the hope of a future together.

As a matter of fact, the matter is rubbish and Kennedy should not have put you to bed at all. How can he look your father in the eyes after what happened? And you? so Leon again does an even more disgusting thing - he ignores you.

You wrote him several messages, called him a couple of times, but the calls went unanswered, he didn’t even send a tiny message like “Sorry, work. I’ll call you later” or “I’ll call you when I’m free.” Yes, he could at least write something and not remain silent like a fuckboy who fucked half of the college! But you are not intruding, no, but this does not mean that you are not offended and you do not feel that you were simply used. For many months you felt this beautiful love for him, afraid to show it, but when the miracle happened, it turned out that the gingerbread house was not so sweet.

It was a complete failure, which brought you to tears, although you didn’t pester him with calls and messages because you didn’t want to look stupid, like the girls from high school who were chasing guys around. There should still be pride, but do you really have to pretend now that nothing happened between you? Actually, it wasn’t even that bad, right? he looked after you and didn’t throw you out of his apartment after sex; he was sweet and gentle, but no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself of this, the resentment still stuck like a bone in your throat.

Therefore, you locked yourself in a room and did not leave it for hours, and to all the requests of your parents you answered one thing "I feel not well", of course you managed to slip unnoticed into the toilet, but if your father saw this terribly swollen face from tears, then his weapon, which was always hidden from you when you were still a child, risked shooting someone- something in the balls, if your dad found out that the reason was a guy.

Although it would be more correct to say an adult man.

But your nightly sobs did not go unnoticed, and in the end, your dad really wanted to kick someone's ass because his babygirl was constantly crying due to a broken heart.

“If he somehow offended you, just tell me,” he asks, stroking your back soothingly, and you can’t even squeeze out a word, just cry. "And this little piece of shit will remember that he can’t offend my girl."

Your father’s words made you laugh through your tears and calm down a little. Although you were still terribly swollen with a huge nose from which snot flowed every now and then, thanks to the support of your close person, life no longer seems so spoiled. However, no matter how your dad tried to find out the name, you didn’t tell him anything about Leon.

After a couple of weeks, you were even able to calm down and have fun with friends, but still the image of Kennedy kept popping up in your head, haunting you both in your dreams and in reality, despite all your attempts to distract yourself. He never left you a single message, thereby forcing you to draw conclusions.

Your college classes will begin in the fall, so there is not much time left to rest, so you decided to make the most of the rest of the summer, but returning home you clearly hear the sound of cleaning weapons and a painfully familiar voice that raises a wave of anxiety in chest.

"...I swear to God I'll find out who this asshole, Leon." Your heart tries to jump out of your chest when you press your ear to the door of your father’s room where he keeps a gun and other things that are not for your eyes. Leon himself almost doesn’t answer and you honestly don’t even want to face him anymore because the resentment still bites painfully into your throat making your eyes water.

It's not good to eavesdrop, but what could you do with yourself? Part of you hoped that he felt at least some guilt for treating you so badly.

“He’s such an asshole...” Leon says quietly in an unnatural voice. "Definitely deserved the bullet"

Maybe he didn't deserve a bullet after all, your heart is not so cruel as to wish him dead, but you could slap him in the face, although you don't want to see him at all, so carefully moving away from the door, go upstairs to your room and lock yourself in it again hoping that Leon will leave before you get hungry. It took about two hours before stomach growled for food. A bar of chocolate in purse briefly saved the situation, which caused an almost opera orchestra of an empty stomach to resound throughout the room. As luck would have it, a delicious aroma came from the kitchen from below, from which wings almost literally grew behind your back and you flew down to try this freshly baked pasta. Your mom called you to the table a couple of times, but it looks like Leon didn't go anywhere, once again staying at dinner with your family, and how the hell did he end up in the same room with him?!

But you can't tell them that Leon is the guy who dumped you after the first sex.

Therefore, it went downstairs and met his guilty gaze. You didn't say a word to each other at dinner, although Leon asked neutral questions like are you okay? It's a shitty question, actually, and your want to throw this plate at his head so Leon's answer is a simple nod.

Your parents are sure it's about the boy who broke their daughter's heart, but they don't know that this "boy" is right in front of them. That makes Leon even more sick of himself, but what happened was clearly a mistake.

He had no right to drag a young girl into his bed, he had no right to touch you at all, and yet the vicious feeling turned out to be stronger than the mind. And yet Leon thinks you can easily overcome your first crush, because no matter how you look at it, this relationship is hopeless. He will not be able to marry you, will not create a family and the people around him will always condemn and most of their sidelong glances will be directed at you. Damn, your dad took out a loan so you could go to the college of your dreams and fall in love with someone like him, the worst possible idea.

"She'll find a better boyfriend in college," Leon said to your father that afternoon. Although he wanted to bite his tongue, because he didn't want to give you to some brat at all, but his mind kept saying that it would be the right thing to do. You deserve a quiet life, and everyone Leon gets attached to sooner or later leaves. Therefore, this time he decided to leave first. And yet he really acted no better than any jerk when he ignored you and your messages.

Dinner passed in tense silence. Your appetite disappeared and a piece wouldn’t go down your throat, which is why you offered to help your mom put the leftover food into the refrigerator, at the same time running away from Leon because tears were running down your cheeks by themselves. Standing in the kitchen, washing the dirty dishes, you were drowned in your thoughts, realizing that you were again sliding into the deep bottom of self-torture, because of this you did not hear the steps behind you, shuddering in surprise when Leon’s hands carefully placed them on your waist.

"Forgive me" It seems that he himself does not know how to choose the right words, but takes his hands away from you, looking around so that your parents do not hear this conversation "I know I acted like an asshole, but it's not going to work. It's wrong, God, you're old enough to be my daughter, and I don't know what I was thinking when I was doing this with you.

You're silent, turning away from him, continuing to wash the poor plate, and Leon is ready to swear that your silence is a hundred times worse than if you were yelling at him.

"You're so young, good, please... Sweetie, I didn't mean to offend you. Trust me, this was never part of my plans, and when your father told me how you cried all night long... It will pass. You'll find yourself a good guy of the same age, well, maybe he'll be a little older than you by two years or maybe three, well, certainly not more than fifteen years."

You are silent again, putting down a clean plate and starting on another one, standing with your back to him.

"This is the first love... And I gave up on myself. You're a wonderful girl..."

"Is it my age?" You rudely interrupt him: "Am I not experienced enough or am I just disgusting to you?"

Finally you turn around turning off the water with your arms crossed over your chest. But God no, that's not what he meant! If he had his way... if it's not the damn framework that Leon mostly pushes himself into, then he won't admit to himself, but he wants there to be no more men in your life besides him. In an intimate way.

"No, God, no, your inexperience has nothing to do with it at all!" he says and immediately tries to take a deep breath, looking around seeing the shadows of your parents, realizing that he chose the wrong place and time to clarify the relationship. "I mean, I can't give you what you want. Honey, at my age, I can seduce a young girl only with my unlimited account card, but you... You need attention, love and care. You see how often your father is away from home and I'm there even less often. Besides, you still don't understand that it won't lead to anything, it's falling in love, butterflies in your stomach, what else is there... euphoria? Please don't think that the world has come together like a wedge on me. Believe me, I'm the most lame option."

"Is it still about age?" Through a lump in your throat, you said softly, "Not old enough for you? "

"I'm too old for you"

It sounded like a sledgehammer had fallen on your head. You let out a shuddering sigh, turning away from him again, because in fact, in your opinion, there is nothing wrong with this relationship. You are not a teenager, some of your age may even have children, and sometimes such a thought has slipped through your mind. Only after graduation, not before. Leon claims that it's just falling in love, but it feels like he's trying to convince himself of this and yet it's very difficult for you to say anything to him right now. The moment is really unfortunate.

“It’s not fair” you turned away, not knowing what else to say to him.

In essence, his argument sounded like a stupid excuse to get rid of an annoying fan while remaining noble. The aftertaste of his words nevertheless remains disgusting.

Of course, you won’t complain to daddy, but your soul was becoming more and more lousy as it seemed that this was the same love that was breaking to the core. It’s as if all the bright colors have disappeared from life, leaving only shades of black and gray without a single hint of joy. Perhaps in a few years this will be perceived as stupidity, but what matters is how you feel now. And this is a piercing, gut-wrenching pain. For several months he flirted, cared, made it clear that this was not a game and that everything was serious for him, but the truth turned out to be too cruel.

Your mother comes in exactly at the moment when you can barely restrain yourself from bursting into tears again at the top of your voice, and she perfectly sees this expression on your face. And it’s obvious that you give up, running to your room, leaving the dishes unwashed, so that you can lock yourself in the room again and not leave there for days on end.

Everyone has their own truth. Leon thought that he escaped with less bloodshed and that you were prudent enough not to make stupid mistakes. Because of his actions, many people have already died and if he finds out that you did something to yourself...

Fortunately, your father just thinks that Leon has found the wrong words of comfort, and this is the reason for lying in bed all day because of your lack of desire to do anything at all right now. When your brain becomes a little clearer after several cycles of sleep alternating with insomnia, it eventually requires you to shift your attention to something other than Leon. In fact, the idea of watching The Lord of the Rings is not the worst, although your father was worried that you would withdraw into yourself again after seeing Aragorn and Arwen break up, involuntarily comparing them to yourself, but nothing terrible happened. You just watched TV, even sometimes smiled at some moments, and then fell asleep, and no one dared to disturb your already light sleep.

“Leon shouldn’t have opened this wound. I shouldn’t have asked him to talk to you.”

Your father confessed in the end, feeling guilty for your next relapse of tears. You sigh and at some point you even want to confess everything to him, clutching the corner of the blanket while you and dad watch the movie together, but you change your mind.

It's probably better not to know the whole truth, because if it comes out, then Armageddon will be.

But maybe Leon is right and this is just falling in love, which you just need to get over, despite the fact that it’s not easy.

Kennedy also disappeared from everyone's radar, appearing only at work. However, he still couldn’t concentrate on reports and training; instead of important thoughts, only you and your tear-stained eyes were spinning in his head. He wanted to console you, to tell you that he was wrong, although he told himself the opposite. The decision that he made, Leon considered truly true and correct, but for some reason everything inside him spoke of the opposite, so the only way to feel sorry for himself, he chose alcohol.

It was like a slow death. Being away from a loved one without being able to even touch. Why not agony? every burning sip of alcohol drew your face in front of his eyes and the desire to get lost with you in the world so that both would never be found was something painfully new for Leon.

He will burn in the fire, but you will remain the peak that he cannot reach. Like a fucking drug that he became addicted to and the pain of withdrawal seems to be many times stronger than the one when Ada left him. He desperately needs to get back to you, to his beloved girlfriend, and just be there for you. But it's so wrong. He didn't give a damn about sex… The hated job sucks all the life juices out of him, so the only thing he wants to do after returning home is to get into a hot shower, washing away blood, dirt and guts. He would have taught you everything, explored boundaries together, guided you… It's not such a big problem, considering how attracted you are to him, and not only in an erotic way. Leon just wants to fall asleep with you, hugging you to him. Listening to the chatter and making these stupid jokes that annoy everyone, but at least you were smiling.

Without you, he's drowning in this sea again.

Let this world be so cruel, but it continues to love you with all its soul, therefore it is ready to sacrifice everything without regret and protect you to the end. Every moment with you was colorful, but with his decision, Leon brought everything back to normal, afraid to be happy. At least Chris said something like that to him when she saw that he was drowning himself in alcohol again. These words made Leon curl his lips in an almost malicious smile, snarling because Redfield didn't know how old you were. If he confessed, he would get something like, "Well, it's just lust." Maybe even reminded him of Ada Wong and how Leon was ready to shoot to save this woman.

But life was filled with meaning only when he was with you and not with Ada. He no longer needs a senseless race after each other when he finally managed to bite into a piece of that life where he is loved and expected.

"I have no future with her, Redfield!" he barked, pouring more whiskey into a glass. "My little American dream of a pretty wife, two children and a white picket fence will not come true."

In fact, Leon would be glad to have you alone in his life. He wants too much, although what is available to ordinary people, Leon is fully aware that he has long lost the right to have it. Your father was not afraid to start a family and you, he loves to talk about what pranks you did in childhood and how you sometimes scared your parents by doing something stupid. The usual parental care. Leon thinks that if he were an officer in Raccoon City, as he dreamed, then now he would also be chatting with some cop about what his children are doing.

Eventually, the sand castle built in the head collapsed immediately.

Where is HIS happy "together and forever"? Obviously in another universe, because in this one he still understands that an old jerk with an alcohol problem and an endless sense of guilt clearly shouldn't bother a young girl without experience.

In fact, he's not such a scumbag as to ruin your life. It's better to be a bad experience than an asshole partner who is also never around.

But you're still as beautiful as the day he met you. However, now you keep your distance from each other, which makes the pain of parting remind you how difficult it is without him. Naively, you drew a too unrealistic picture in your head about this relationship and for some reason you still believe in it, hoping for a fairy tale with a happy ending. From that, you constantly look at Leon with a long piercing look that is literally soaked with a plea to take you back.

You could shout, "Look, I'm aware of my choice! And that's you," but sometimes I wondered if he needed you.

After all, Leon deliberately tore up the little that you recreated with him, preferring to go his own way through life alone.

He doesn't talk to you and has kept communication with your father to a minimum due to the inability to look him in the eye. In fact, Leon really wants to get some kind of punishment for what he did to you, for being so dirty and dishonest, and yet like a puppy, he almost whines wishing that it was you who loved him. Maybe there would be another woman who could heal his mental wounds and the question of age would not be so acute, but Leon does not let anyone get too close to him. Sometimes Ada still comes and he honestly tries to find solace in her, sometimes it even works, but his medicine for longing has too short an effect and a new dose is too difficult to find…

Although he knows where you live, what position you like to sleep in, what kind of music you listen to and all that…

On very difficult days, the hand reaches out to read those sent messages. Flipping through the correspondence in the chat, going back to the very beginning when there was no question of any relationship, when you still just considered him just a colleague of your father but already sent something funny, which made a smile appear on his face by itself.

You haven't written to him for about two months, although the impulses to start scribbling message after message still do not leave, but if before it was a cry of the soul for the way he treated you, now you are ready to literally beg him to give you a chance. Yes, you're young, you're still studying, but you don't demand marriage and children from him right away. And besides, you already have all the rights to make decisions for yourself, even if sometimes they are thoughtless and you still need parental help because of your age. But everything comes with age, right? No one starts walking right after birth and you think you have the right to make mistakes and learn from them, so if Leon turns out to be one of them, then you will face the consequences yourself.

You wanted to write something like this to him, but you constantly deleted the printed lines and wrote again, unable to find the strength to send it to him.

Courage came and went at the most inopportune moment, giving way to doubt and low self-esteem. And yet it was he who kissed you first in the barn, gave you expensive gifts and courted you like a man and not like a brat. Seriously, you don't even pay attention to guys your age, focusing only on one man who was killing his liver and psyche. Of course, there is a high probability that in five years or so you will want to go back in time and hit yourself on the head, but nevertheless it will be later. Only in the possible future, but for now, slowly walking through the wet streets of the city under an umbrella, you slowly wander to a familiar apartment, trying to keep your courage in your fists and not let it escape. It gets too wet on the streets, and it's cool, which makes your palms get cold, but still, gathering your courage, you knock on the door of an apartment in the city center.

The knocking is too quiet, so you try to knock a little louder, but as soon as your palm hovers over the door, Leon's face immediately appears in front of you, forcing all the rehearsed words to disappear from your head.

It seems at first he can't believe his eyes. You are standing in front of him, in a cute raincoat, with an umbrella in your hands, whose hand you are nervously pulling and your hair is a little wet - reality and not his drunken imagination, although for a couple of seconds Leon still thinks that this is his drunken delirium.

"Um…Sorry for being uninvited… I just wanted…To talk?" almost stuttering, you say, looking into his blue eyes that seem a little drunk, "Will you let me in?"

He sighs and you wait with bated breath for the verdict, hoping that you don't look like a fool in front of him. It takes maybe ten seconds before Leon nods, stepping back and you enter his apartment with small steps, standing on the threshold, still nervously but holding on to your umbrella more tightly, scratching the handle with your thumb nail in excitement.

Maybe he's just overworked, but there's an unfinished bottle of alcohol on the table and Leon himself seems disheveled, but still he holds out his hand to you and you look at him in amazement, not realizing that he just offers to take your umbrella and raincoat to dry them a little. Slow reaction is normal for ordinary people and Leon never condemns you for this, in fact, he's not even angry, deep down he's probably even glad that you appeared briefly in his life again, however…

"Something happened?" He asks in a tired tone, although he can see from your body language how tense you are, hoping that you don't have any very serious problems, why are you so worried "Do you have problems or…"

At that moment, you realize that the conversation you are about to have will be long and emotionally difficult.

As the saying goes, "Fortune favors the bold " even if your legs are shaking with fear, then at least you will try to solve this dilemma with him.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy fanfiction

215 notes · View notes

writersblockedx · 9 months

Text

Bookshops and Baking

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - Forced onto a muggle trip with his family, Fred finds entertainment in your bookshop. He can’t help but thinking that maybe he likes you more than most muggles. Warnings - Fred not undertstanding basic text speech, Mentions of alchol Words - 2.2k

A/n - Possible part two ??

Masterlist

Fred was never fond of the muggle world. It was all waiting. Waiting for them to turn on a light switch rather than casting the words of 'Lumos'. He thought they lived in apathy without the ability to create pranks and joke boxes. To him, most of them went to an office and came back and that was their day. They went through education, settled down with the most practical partner, had kids they were learning to hate and then got buried in the ground. It was ever so simple yet ever so dull.

It wasn't until his dad dragged him out on a muggle trip, that he met you, and his opinion started to change.

Mr Weasley had taken all the kids on a trip to a city in the North of the Country. The weather could only be described as damp and when it started raining, Fred split from the group. He hadn't paid much attention to the building he entered, all he cared for was that it had a ceiling that would protect him from the rain. Wasn't as if he could cast a spell to protect him; strictly no magic in front of muggles and strictly, by his dad's rules, no magic on muggle trips. He liked to think his kids got the full muggle experience.

Fred opened the shop door, a ping sounded from above his head. At first, he was met with books. Many of them. Shelves of them. A library, he presumed. He barely visited them at Hogwarts, never mind a muggle library where you had to search for the very book you wanted rather than call it into your hands. But it was dry and that's all he cared for.

"Hi!" A voice called. He turned, facing the till where you were standing, a customer service smile slapped onto your lips. "Welcome," You grasped a tray from the side of you and offered it to Fred. "Take a brownie, browse, enjoy the plenty of books." Your smile never faulted.

Fred gazed at the baked goods on the tray. Traditional, non-magic, brownies. No love potion mixed into them, or fake-sickness to get you out of class. It was just a brownie. Fred took one, "Thank you." He took his first bite and could have sworn something so good, so gooey, would have to be magic. "This- This is amazing." He spoke, still with a mouthful of chocolate swirling around his mouth.

You smiled but questioned his enthusiasm, "It's just a brownie." You assured.

You weren't sure about the ginger stranger who had walked into the bookshop, but he certainly intrigued you. "Do you have the erm recipe?" He questioned before taking another gulp of the treat.

"It was just on good foods." You answered him, not hiding the amused smile that wouldn't leave your lips.

"What- What is that?"

He really was a strange man, "A website." You told him. Fred almost cursed himself for not remembering about the muggle's favourite invention of the internet; his dad never shut up about it.

"Oh, right, yeah." He mumbled, taking his final bite.

You stepped around the counter and came to face the redhead. "Here," You said, taking his crum cover hand into your own. You took the lid of a pen and started writing the name of the website and then, with a push of confidence, you started writing your own number. "If you've got any more baking cravings, you can always message me." You stopped writing and looked up at him. His eyes were clung to you, wide-eyed as if you could do no wrong as if he could trust you to hold his heart for a lifetime. "I do more than just brownies."

He nodded slowly before realising he should probably say something, "Right," He suddenly couldn't think straight. Maybe it was the brownie. Maybe he was just confused. He had liked pretty girls before but never had one made him feel like this. So flushed, so nervous to even take a breath. "I don't have a phone." He suddenly realised.

Your head dipped to the side, "Oh." You let out.

"I'll get one." He cut in before you could reject him. "I've been meaning to for a while." Well, his dad had really wanted one of the muggle's phones; they called them apples? So he thought they did.

"Well, when you do, I'll be waiting for the message." Your words caused another grin to fall on his lips. "It's Y/n by the way."

"Fred." He returned.

And like that, the two of you had become acquainted. Possibly he was strange, perhaps a little old-fashioned, or maybe he was the first to use not having a phone as a way to reject someone. Either way, Fred ended up lingering in your mind. Dates came in and out of your life, but you found him, just a boy who liked your brownies, yet he had made you feel more than any other date.

Fred was the same. His mind was infatuated with the idea of you...a muggle. It was odd to him. He had nothing against muggles, of course, but he had never seen himself befriending one - never mind it being possibly flirtatious. But as he left the bookshop (without any actual books) he went to one of the muggle 'Apple' stores. There, he finally picked up a phone and would spend the next night trying to figure it all out and swearing on muggles for making everything so difficult.

Now, the thing was Fred had never sent a text. He had sent letters. So when he was faced with typing, he assumed the two were no different.

To Y/n, I can't stop thinking about them brownies. From, Fred.

He became even more confused when only an hour later he received a message in return:

I'll make them again for you sometime - lmk when you're free.

He stared at the muggle message for a while. When he couldn't figure out what you meant by 'lmk', he resorted to going to his dad. He and the rest of the family were awaiting Molly's dinner, lingering by the table when Fred stormed through. His eyes were on the phone until he met his dad and handed the object over.

"What does this mean?" He demanded to know simply because he was so eager to message the girl back.

Arthur flicked his glasses over his eyes and inspected the message. "Is this your muggle girlfriend?" Yelled George who was setting the table.

Fred flicked his head to his twin brother, telling him to, "Shut up," before turning back to his dad.

"Don't tell me he's back at it with that muggle phone." Ginny commented.

"Back at it?" George laughed. "He hasn't put it down. He won't stop talking to someone called Siri?"

"Is that the girl?" Asked Ron, finally looking up from the piece of bread he had been eating.

Fred looked to his siblings for one last time, "No, it's not the girl." He said with a stern tone woven through his words. He finally looked to his dad, "Do you know what it is?"

He nodded and put the phone on the table, "It's one of the muggle text abbreviations. They get lazy when they text on their electronics." He explained.

"Okay, so what does L.M.K mean?"

Arthur shrugged, "Oh, I've no idea."

Shit, Fred thought, but knew he shouldn't say it. He couldn't understand these text abbreviations but the idea of not responding was torturous. So, he did the next best thing.

Without his dad or his siblings, Fred took it upon himself to visit the muggle world by himself. He travelled through the streets, luckily this time they were dry streets, right until he came across the same bookshop. He took a breath like this would take a lot out of him. Then, he put his firm palm on the door and pushed. That same bell rang, addressing his entrance to anyone close.

His eyes went straight to the counter which was empty, only occupied by a tray of cookies. The boy wandered further down, slipping into the maze of the bookshelf before, finally, he caught sight of you. Your hands reaching up, pushing books into their respective positions. You hadn't noticed him at first, completely wrapped up in your own world. He walked towards you, a smile plastered on his lips when he breathed and spoke, "Hi."

You finally turned, your expression moulding into a curious one, "Fred?" You almost giggled. "Didn't think I'd see you here after you ghosted me."

His brows narrowed, "I'm sorry?"

Then you did giggle, "Doesn't matter. How can I help you?"

"I was thinking about you and what you said. And you're right, I am old-fashioned. Completely." He started, not daring to tear from your gaze. "Which is why I'm here and it's why I'm offering to take you out...on a date." He pushed out his hopeful smile, watching your eyes carefully as they filled with some emotion he couldn't pinpoint.

"Okay, Mr old-fashioned." You agreed as if you hadn't been thinking about it since you last saw the boy. "My shift finishes in an hour."

Fred didn't move, "Right."

"So I'll meet you at a restaurant afterwards." You planned. "You choose, message me the address."

That was the worse thing you could have done. But, at that moment, Fred agreed. He spent at least half of that hour scouting for a restaurant. One that was quaint enough to be intimate, but one that was also expensive, somewhere you could wear a nice dress to and you could share a bottle of wine. And when he finally found one, he ordered himself the bottle of wine and sat there waiting until you showed up.

You arrived on the dot. Nervous, but trying to hide it well enough, and once your gaze hit his, a smile grazed your lips. He took you in an embrace before the two of you were seated across from one another. Conversation started flowing as soon as you had a lick of wine. You learnt of the wacky Weasley family, from his twin brother to his parents and all the other siblings in between. He owned a business - one of which you had never heard of - but it certainly did impress you. He claimed he hadn't had much time for dating and that running into yourself was just perfect timing.

So, of course, when the brownie dessert you were sharing started coming to an end, and Fred offered a second date, you agreed. And, on that date, you agreed to a third.

For that one, Fred had arranged every single detail. He would greet you in a shirt and tie, a bouquet of flowers waiting in his hands. You would thank him and accept the flowers before taking his hands and entering the theatre. At half-time, you would go in-depth about the meaning behind the play. Before, at the end of the night, as he dropped you off on your front steps, he would finish the night with a kiss.

Everything would go to plan - so Fred hoped anyway.

What happened instead, ruined everything. Fred was waiting outside the venue, doing his once-over for everything. He made sure his shirt was perfectly ironed and that the flowers were-

He suddenly looked down at his palms and realised they were empty. He had left them on the back seat of his car. He almost swore aloud before his wizard instinct stepped in. He retrieved his wand from his blazer pocket, shuffling into the shadows. He picked up some small daisies from the ground that lined the building. From there, he mumbled the words of, "Engorgio" and the small petals tripled in their size until they resembled some proper, store-bought flowers.

It was bad timing. When Fred gazed back up, he wasn't met with shadow, he was met with you, staring at him and the flowers that had just magically grown at his will. How could he explain this? "Y/n," He spoke your name in a breath that he had been holding. "I can explain." No, he couldn't.

You shook your head, already taking some steps back. "I- I can't-" You couldn't get the words out; your mind was too focused on trying to figure out what you had just witnessed.

Before Fred could say much more, you turned your back to him and slipped away. He should have been more worried about the fact a muggle had witnessed magic, that the very being of all witches and wizards had suddenly become endangered. He should have been worried about how much this mistake was going to cost him - if the Mystery of Magic would send him to Azkaban for this? But all that swirled around in the boy's head was whether he could fix the sudden wedge he had put between himself and you.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fanfic #Harry Potter universe #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts imagines #hogwarts fanfiction #george weasley #ron weasley #imagine #x reader #fanfic

551 notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 10 months

Text

⋆｡°✩ death note reaction - little things they do for you

includes: established relationship, ooc light idc that he isn't romantic i love him :((

a/n: i've been rewatching death note so i'm thinking of taking reqs for l, light, and near. feel free to send any ideas !! (preferably light x male reader)

gn reader (no pronouns used)

⋆｡°✩ l - sharing his sweets

(word count 224)

you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes as you stumble out of your hotel bedroom and into the main room. l sits in his usual position on one of the chairs; absentmindedly pulling his bottom lip between his fingers. he pauses slightly when he hears you approach as he continues looking through the various files sprawled across the desk.

“anything new?” you murmur, setting a small, strawberry pastry down beside him.

“nothing yet.” l replies.

he reaches over to hold the plate up to his lips. he breaks off a small piece before handing it over to you. “thank you,” you softly smile at him. the treat tastes sweet in your mouth. you pick a piece of fresh strawberry from the top as you watch l continue to work. “it’s getting late.”

“i’ll come to bed soon. you don’t have to wait up for me.”

you shake your head. “i’ll stay.”

l startles slightly when your head falls against his shoulder. he stares at you with wide eyes as your eyes flutter closed; your body relaxed against his side. he stiffens beneath your touch as he contemplates what to do.

finally, he reaches over to gently shake you awake. “y/n,” he whispers. you blink up at him through tired eyes as he softly smiles at you. “we can go to bed now.”

⋆｡°✩ light - confiding in you

(word count 227)

a soft sigh leaves your lips as you let yourself collapse onto light’s perfectly-made bed. he watches you from the corner of his eye with a soft smile as he pulls his chair back to sit down at his desk. “tired?” he asks.

“it was a long day,” you hum.

light walks over to sit beside you on his bed as a comfortable silence falls over the room as you move to sit beside him before light speaks again.

“somebody approached me today. he claimed that he was l.” you remain silent as his hands ball into fists; his eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “he’s screwed me. if he really is l, i can’t risk writing his name down. but if he isn’t, why would they still be investigating me?”

“light,” you whisper. you reach out to grab his hand, taking it into your own. he remains silent as you intertwine your fingers together in an attempt to soothe him. “think about it. they’re getting more desperate. why would l risk revealing himself to you if they have any reason to suspect you?”

you gently rub your thumb against light’s skin in an attempt to calm him. you watch as his shoulders slowly begin to relax before he nods. “you’re right,” he smiles. he leans in to pull you into a quick peck. “i’m glad i have you.”

⋆｡°✩ near - playing with his hair

(word count 239)

“near?” you whisper as you cautiously approach the boy. he barely reacts as you walk over to sit on the ground beside him; his hand continues absentmindedly stacking and restacking blocks. he twists a stray strand of hair between his fingers.

“it’s late.” you say. your voice cuts through the previous silence. despite his seeming apathy, you can tell he’s listening by the way his hands momentarily pause their building. “will you come to bed with me?”

near remains silent for a few minutes in response. you carefully reach over to rest a gentle hand against his back before you slowly begin to rub small circles against his skin.

his deliberation comes to an end when he restacks the blocks. “okay.” you smile softly as he intertwines your fingers together, following after you as you stand up and lead him to a small, designated bedroom.

near slips underneath the covers first before you join him. he curls his body up beside you, leaning his head against your chest. the soft locks of his hair tickle against your bare skin as he comfortably nuzzles himself into your warmth.

you bring a hand up to carefully begin to card your fingers through near’s hair; twisting the strands between your fingers much like he does. “i like it when you do that,” he whispers into the darkness.

you smile, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead. “get some rest, near.”

763 notes · View notes

raisengen · 6 months

Text

I’ve seen a few posts expressing apathy towards Arknights’ second (and current) main story arc, and to some extent I can see why. It’s a different tone, a murkier tone, and it leads to a sense of ambivalence. However, I think this sense of ambivalence is (at least partially) intended, based on the sort of story they’re trying to tell.

I think they’re trying to tell a story about how war is stupid. How all its justifications and manoeuvres become so pathetically unforgivable in the face of the horrific human cost it entails.

Can you do this while still making a dramatic story with superpowered duels and ancient entities? What happens when you make half your cast wholly contemptible? I don’t know. I want to see.

Chapter 12 gets pretty explicit on this, with Ines rejecting all claims that war can "mean" anything other than people killing each other, and Manfred approving this as Paprika’s answer. But this sense of meaninglessness extends to the wider plot threads, too.

Chapter 9 was a horrific slaughter, but nothing comes from it. Dublinn played Victoria into committing atrocities then covering it all up, just to clear out their own corrupt lieutenants. Bagpipe is left collecting clues for people who already know the truth.

Chapter 11 builds up Siege’s role as the returning heir, then Chapter 12 sets it all on fire. That sword and crown make no difference when her home is is besieged to starvation. Only the Dukes care about her, and what good are they? They were willing to let all this happen to fuel their power struggles. The Duke of Caster just spent two chapters (and an event) causing problems, and she’s neither gained nor lost for it.

Then the Sarkaz, who are motivated by the pressure of generations of literally accumulated hatred moreso than any explicit outcome… it’s not exactly subtle.

(Funny how the Dukes and nations will happily sit fast as long as they can pretend they don't know of the suffering in Londinium, but as soon as Theresis flashes some superweapons they're all over it.)

This is something I’ve struggled with before. How do you tell a realistic (top-level) story of a war, when the story of war is invariably one of banal evil that simply doesn't value (certain) human lives? How do you make that compelling when its all so stupid? I look forward to seeing Hypergryph’s full answer, even if they struggle with it.

#Arknights #TL;DR AK's brought its cynicism to the fore #but perhaps it's right to

260 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months

Text

Life in a Tranquil State

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Just a short drabble about a sweet morning with an injured Matty.

warnings: none

a/n: This piece is rather short but very fluffy! I hope everyone is doing ok, I know this time of year can be difficult for people. Sending you all my love!

w/c: 1.2k

Dashing into the stairwell to escape the chill, you shuddered as the last gust of wind lifted the wisps of hair peeking out at the front of your hat. Inhaling deeply, you trekked up the stairs—relief washing over you at the sight of your front door. After taking a moment to squeeze your fingers in an attempt to shake off the cold-induced numbness, you turned the door knob and scurried inside.

The warmth of the apartment enveloped you in a comforting embrace, causing your shoulders to sag as the general discomfort of the rapidly falling temperature faded away. Your boyfriend was seated in the middle of the living room rug, bare shoulders illuminated by the dim light leaking through the massive window behind him. His eyes were closed, the striking muscles in his legs flexing in their crossed position.

Still meditating then, you thought to yourself, toeing off your boots as silently as you could to prevent disturbing his focus. Rising inflation and consistent apathy from politicians had unleashed a current of building unrest in the city. Matt had been working overtime in and out of the office, helping New Yorkers appeal their welfare denials during the day while stopping corruption and petty crime at night. Honestly, it was downright miraculous that it had taken next to no convincing to get Matt to take a day off, though that might have been because of your desperate begging.

Last night had been especially turbulent, ending with an exhausted Matt, an equally exhausted Claire (who REALLY deserved some time away from the shenanigans), an absurd amount of stitches, and the worst tension headache you'd had in recent history. As the color slowly reappeared in Matt's face, you'd given him an earful between stress-induced sobs, pleading with him to take some time off to recover--and thanking every divine entity in the universe when he'd accepted. Once Matt had taken his painkillers, you both passed the fuck out in a tangle of limbs that was sure to be more uncomfortable for him than for you.

It wasn't that you wanted him to stop being Daredevil, you'd never ask him to restrain the part of himself that had saved the city time and time again. But you'd continue to remind him that his body needed to rest sometimes, a fact he had been pointedly ignoring the past few weeks.

Which is why the sight of him beside the couch was such a welcomed one. This morning had been tense, by no fault of Matt's. You'd slept restlessly, waking up jittery and drained next to an aching, and incredibly guilty, Matt. He'd apologized to you profusely, clenching the fabric of your sweatshirt between his fingers like he expected you to disintegrate. Pressing soft kisses to his head, you'd brushed off his needless worries, promising that you weren't going anywhere.

To Matt's chagrin, you'd dragged him to the living room and encouraged him to meditate so that he could regain his strength. He'd accepted, but only when you agreed to sit in his lap, which he swore would not break his focus. After an hour of listening to his exasperated grumbles and helping him shift positions, you'd clambered out of his lap, cajoling him with the offer of breakfast and a coffee from the cafe down the street.

Padding quietly into the apartment, you set the steaming paper cup and accompanying box of pastries on the counter, using your now empty hands to pull off your hat and comb through your staticy hair.

“Only one coffee?” Matt's voice over your shoulder startled you, causing you to nearly knock his drink to the ground as you turned to face him.

“Christ, Matty, don't do that. I'm gonna make you wear a bell.” You shoved at his sculpted chest, brief irritation dissipating when he let out a low chuckle.

“I'm sure the criminals would appreciate the warning.” His hands slid around your waist, forehead tipping to rest against yours. “Missed you.”

Giggling softly into the kiss he pressed to your lips, you let your hands drift up to cradle his neck. ”I was only gone for a few minutes, you sap.“

”I don't know, it felt like hours.“ Matt sighed dramatically, leaning into your body heavily as he picked up his coffee. Taking a sip, a pleased groan rumbled in his throat, making you grin.

”Too sweet, just the way you like it.“

”It's perfect. What about you?“ Matt frowned, jerking his chin towards the lack of a second cup on the counter.

With a shrug, you snuggled into Matt’s hold, humming in appreciation when he ran a hand along your back.

“Didn’t feel like coffee today. I’m not above napping, Murdock.”

“That can be arranged, darling. I owe you some peace after last night.” Despite his clenched jaw, you watched guilt fill his expression, gorgeous hazel eyes falling to the floor.

”Don't you start.” You chastised gently, rubbing circles on his nape with your thumb. “We talked about this earlier, my love. You didn't do anything wrong, you just bit off a little more than you could chew. Happens to the best of us, yah?“ Brushing your nose against his, you slotted your hips against his and tugged him into an embrace.

Resolve crumbling, he melted into the touch. ”I'm still sorry.“

”And I'm still reminding you that you don't need to be. Just remember to be careful and let yourself rest every once in a while. Speaking of,“ You brushed a thumb under the stitched wound on his shoulder. ”Meditation still not working?“

Whining under his breath, Matt shook his head mournfully. ”Not well. I just...I don't know what's wrong with me today.“

Brow furrowing, you kneaded at your boyfriend's scalp in an attempt to scare away his crippling self-doubt. “Anything in particular that made it difficult?”

Matt shook his head, his lips parting around the tiniest of sighs. “Everything is just...a lot today. I don't think I ever fully relaxed after the adrenaline from last night.”

Biting your lip in thought, you carded your fingers through Matt's hair. “Hmm, well it might help if you were more relaxed before you started meditating? Do you think that might work?”

Smirking at you, Matt purred, “What did you have in mind?” One of his large hands slid down from your waist to palm your ass.

Swatting at his wrist, you snorted. “I didn't mean sex, Matthew. Though I suppose that's one option we could pursue if the others don't work.”

Kissing you deeply, Matt's breath ghosted over your lips as he asked. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we can start by eating the pastries I painstakingly picked out for my very picky boyfriend,” Ignoring Matt as he pinched your waist and scoffed indignantly, you continued. ”Other than that, we could try showering first? That always makes me feel better.”

“That sounds great sweetheart,” Matt leaned his forehead against yours with a smile.

265 notes · View notes