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bby-deerling · 4 months

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Idk if you're taking requests right now, but I saw you wanted to write the sex pollen or one bed trope. I am a SUCKER for both of those!!!!! I would totally be down with either or both of these with Law!

oh anon you know i just had to combine them >:^) !!!!

i went absolutely feral writing this so i hope you enjoy!

spin circles for me (law x reader nsfw)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 3.0k masterlist

cw: afab!fem!reader, slapping, rough sex, sex pollen and all that entails, law is kind of an asshole, law is also a bit feral, choking, biting, semi-public fooling around, creampie, mentions of blood, evil sex, one bed trope

tagging: @bowsa-jr @eelnoise @freelemmingsdownload @kaizokuniichan @wolfegoddess

“And…that’s all folks! Everyone should have their room keys.” Shachi exclaims, hands visibly empty. A pit opens up in your stomach as you feel your heart drop like a roller coaster—everyone had their room assignments for the night, save for you, whose name wasn’t called. Face red as your anxiety brews, you step forward towards your crewmate and tap him on the shoulder.

“Shachi, I didn’t hear my name; who am I rooming with?” you ask, puzzled and hoping you had simply tuned out your name when he called it; Law was taking care of sorting the bill out with the innkeeper, and the last thing you wanted to do was pile more undue stress onto your captain.

Curly chestnut hair hangs in his face as he scans the list he made one more time, mumbling each crew member’s name under his lips as he counts. Eyes widening as he reaches the end of the list without muttering yours, he checks again, face slowly turning white.

“Captain, we’ve got a problem.” Shachi says as he strides towards Law, carrying a slight sense of worry in his voice; realistically it wasn’t the end of the world, but when Law is in a snit, the slightest mistakes can lead to a snarky dressing down in front of the rest of the crew. Tired and exhausted, Law doesn’t answer Shachi verbally, and simply gives him a look that tells him to continue. “I messed up the room arrangements. I forgot to assign her to a room.” he explains, motioning towards you with his thumb.

“Put her with Ikkaku then. Do I really have to hold your hand like this, Shachi?” Law says, rolling his eyes with a huff as he starts to walk away; your crewmate’s hand on his shoulder pulls him back and prevents him from getting too far away.

"That’s the thing Captain, all the rooms have twin beds except for yours…” he says voice laced with trepidation as his words trail off. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you watch Law carefully as he makes eye contact with you for the briefest of moments, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Fine.” he sighs, too exhausted to even bother reaming Shachi out for his mistake. Instead, Law glares at him, causing your crewmate to simply smirk at him before running off towards Penguin.

“Don’t expect me to sleep on the floor. We’re more than capable of being adults.” he warns in a hushed tone that edges on the side of being unnecessarily harsh.

“Of course, Captain.” you reply, stare fixed at the floorboard beneath you as you followed him to your room. His exasperation had seemingly no end, causing you to preemptively walk on eggshells to avoid being the target of his scorn.

A slightly irritated huff escapes your lips as you let your bag hit the floor of the run-down hotel room. An opportunity to spend more time with Law like this would be heaven sent under normal circumstances, but his mood lately was nothing short of foul, and he had been short not only with you, but with everyone around him for the past week or so. Truthfully, being alone with him left you brimming with anxiety; you had been slowly and steadily building a deep bond with him prior to this nasty mood swing, and something intangible swirling in your gut spurred the notion that his mood was somehow your fault.

As you head to the restroom and change into some plainclothes, you run through a list of possible transgressions; perhaps the time you patted his shoulder reassuringly had been crossing the line, or maybe he had noticed the way your eyes soften, gazing at him when you were convinced his eyes were focused elsewhere. Law is rarely one to miss details or subtleties; in retrospect, one would be a fool to think he wouldn’t catch you staring. Whether your behavior was the cause of his irritability or not, one thing was certain—he had been avoiding contact with you as much as possible since this snit started, leaving you lonely. Rituals you had built with him—taking your morning coffee and tea together, sitting next to each other at lunch, and reading together in the evenings—had all come to a crashing halt with no explanation, leaving you with an empty chasm in your chest, left to wonder what you did to spur this sudden abandonment; however, even if it were possible to track down Law to for a private conversation, you were too nonconfrontational to inquire what your grave misstep had been.

“Need a walk to clear my head. Coming with?” he asks gruffly, momentarily removing his bucket hat to comb his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. His words break you from your daze, and you nod affirmatively and give him a vocal mhm, lacing up your worn-out sneakers in the process. Though he was touchy at the moment, there was no resisting his bid for attention, especially when a hint of softness in his tone makes his words feel like a request for your presence. Law was complicated, and at times unbearable, but as far as you were concerned, he was beyond reproach, for the simple fact that you cared far too much for him.

The rocky atmosphere softens as you walk towards the nearby trail together, afternoon breeze filling your lungs with tranquility and turning the tension between you into a comfortable silence. The two of you venture roughly a mile into the woods before being met with a roadblock—a wall of flowering vines preventing further progression down the trail. Slightly annoyed, Law unsheathes his sword, hacking at the plants, only to be met with a haze of dust and pollen in the air; instinctively, you pull your shirt over your nose to prevent inhaling it, but your captain is not so lucky, and ends up breathing in a fair amount before sneezing.

Frustrated at the endlessly dense cluster of vines and flowers still remaining in front of you, your captain makes the executive decision to turn back, and you follow accordingly, sighing softly in frustration that your walk together was cut shorter than planned—that is, until Law starts acting weird.

It started with the staring.

The penetrating gaze fixed on your form only feeds into your paranoia, assuring you that there was something wrong between the two of you that had been leading him to behave strangely as of late. Then his right arm begins to swing more freely, almost aimlessly; the contrast of the motion compared to Law’s normally composed nature made the way his hand carelessly swung seem downright silly—and then it starts to brush against you. He’s simply tired, you tell yourself. A simple mistake.

And then blood pools in your cheeks as he pokes your side, almost playfully, emulating the cocky, laidback Law you've come to know and adore. It’s intentional, and impossible to ignore; you return the favor in kind and flash him a grin. You expect a similar expression to be mirrored on his face—a smirk with a glint of mischief in his eyes—but are frozen in place when the look he gives you is downright predatory, lust pooling in his eyes.

Suddenly aware of your surroundings, you find your back flush against a tree, and far closer to Law than you remember being before; completely absorbed in the delight of his subtle flirting, you had lost track of where you were, and subsequently had fallen into his grasp like a fly in a spider’s web.

“Tell me now if you don’t want this.” he whispers in your ear, leaning in close and ghosting his lips along the shell of your ear. The trance he put you in was nearly dreamlike, all of his transgressions nearly forgotten as he feeds you the tantalizing promise of exchanging them for the touches you have been yearning for.

“Keep going.” you murmur, letting out a sharp gasp as his mouth immediately connects with your neck. His teeth graze the column of your throat, eliciting sinful mewls from your pretty mouth; the song of lewd sounds echoes into the humid, sticky air, encouraging him to slip his hand underneath your shirt.

“I thought it wasn’t like that, hm?” he murmurs, voice husky as his hands roam your body, making you whimper as his thumb rolls across your nipple. “Thought you didn’t like your Captain like that?” he taunts, making your cheeks flush with both arousal and embarrassment as pieces click into place in your mind—a little more than a week ago, Shachi and Penguin had confronted you about your little crush during a game of cards; unwilling to give in to pressure from them to spill your guts out, you had denied it with a pink blush covering your face. A dreadful liar through and through, your crewmates refused to buy your fib for a second; however, judging by the way Law had echoed your own words back to you as his hands claim your body, he had taken your words at face value. It was borderline hypocritical—he was a man who constantly veiled his true emotions, yet he was somehow unable to see through the wide cracks of a similar mask.

Fever broken, a storm of anger brews in your chest, and you want to smack him, to gain some type of retribution for the needless cold shoulder he had given you; however, the way his mouth heatedly slots against yours leaves you too dizzy to fully realize your intentions. Instead, you end up lightly swatting his cheek, sighing against his lips. In return, your eyes are blown wide in shock as his inked hand smacks you back, not terribly hard, but enough to make your heart nearly jump out of your chest as you gasp.

“Don’t act like you don’t want it now.” he growls, soothing the dull sting with the pad of his thumb as he harshly grips your face, squishing your cheeks together. There’s something feral and desperate in his eyes as he scans every bit of your face for a sign of genuine resistance; even in his growing haze of delirium, he’s surprised to find a mixture of emotions on your face. Pupils blown out in lust, you want him, but you’re frustrated, jaw clenched as you let out a deep exhale.

“You were being so mean to me, Law. And for no reason—” you say, voice wavering as you become overwhelmed and desperately try to keep your head above water. The flood of emotions from latent, seemingly unrequited feelings being returned was intense enough; the addition of a slew of heated and fevered sensations as the two of you get so physical so fast scrambles your brain and leaves you feeling bare and vulnerable.

Deep down, Law wants to explain himself, but as he succumbs more and more to his altered state of mind, he can only pull back and offer you a bargain. “Let me make it up to you.” he pleas, making the remaining sane portions of his mind cringe at the way his voice drips with want. It’s a pitiful replacement for a litany of apologies that he is too ill-equipped to deliver—doubly so when under the influence. Nevertheless, he waits for your move, nearly drawing blood as he digs his nails into his palm, hand clenched into a fist as he fights the urges coursing through his veins.

When you move to kiss him, knocking his hat onto the ground and tangling your fingers into his hair, you mean to take a gamble and tease him with a sly, snarky remark, but he’s uncharacteristically needy and captures your mouth with his at the slightest hint of permission to continue. He’s sloppy, desperate, and messier than you ever could have envisioned in your darkest, murkiest fantasies. Back hitting rough bark, you feel swallowed whole as he presses his body flush against you, knee prodding between your thighs. Law is impatient, more so than you have ever seen him as he plays with the waistband of your sweatpants before dipping his hand beneath your panties.

“This wet for me…God, you want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?” he murmurs against your lips as he slides two fingers past your folds. Dragging his fingers along your spongy spot, he coaxes the only reply he cares about from you—sweet, strangled moans as he tries to make you understand, tries to make you feel a fraction of the desperate yearning and arousal he has for you, latent emotions only amplified by his current state.

As the sky darkens, losing the afterglow of a sunset neither of you caught, you became acutely aware that the two of you weren’t even that far from the inn, and most assuredly visible to any prying eyes gazing out their windows; however, Law’s focus is honed on your chest, leaving deep purple bites all over your sensitive skin.

“Law, people can see us.” you mumble, noticing the yellow haze from the windows casting over your bare chest. Intoxicating as it was to be pressed against a tree, feeling the tips of his fingers tease your sweet spot as his tongue circles your nipple, you yank on his hair in a silent plea for him to move to your bedroom; the last thing you wanted your crewmates to see was your captain turning you into an incoherent mess.

As his fingers pull out of you, the light dances across his digits, illuminating the slick coating them with a tantalizing glint. Grumbling something intelligible under his breath, he shoves his inked fingers past your lips, letting out a sigh as you obediently suck them, tongue dancing along his digits. As your eyes flutter shut, pleased by tasting the gentle tang of your nectar, he teleports you into the bedroom; the privacy shields you from the curious eyes of others, but strips you bare for Law, leaving you subject to the dark whims brewing behind his intense stare.

He wastes no time making short work of your sweatpants, yanking them down before plunging his tattooed fingers back inside you, a deep sense of need imbedded in each motion of his hands. Following his lead, you fling your shirt over your head, swallowing hard at the cool breeze from the cracked window grazing over your nipples, still wet from Law’s tongue running across them. He gives you a feral grin as he stares down at you, satisfied at the sight and grasping one of your breasts with his free hand and pushes your back onto the bed—your shared bed.

“Such a good girl for me… such a good little slut for your captain.” he mumbles under his breath as he hovers over you, inked hand moving upward to grip your throat before his lips descend onto yours. He’s needy, for both sensation and control as he frees his cock from his jeans and lines himself up with your soaking entrance; sinking his teeth into your lower lip as he sucks on the soft, plump, rosy skin, he finally indulges in the sweet bliss he’s been craving for ages.

It’s a consummation of an attachment too fragile to be subjected to the gridlock of matrimony, or anything remotely similar. As he pushes into you, the ragged breaths against desperate lips are the only vows spoken, the only promise is for more. Thrusting into you harder, he becomes too clouded by his high and too drunk on the ecstasy of having you underneath him that he loses himself completely.

Law means to take you whole.

Soft whines are all you can let out against his mouth as he bites and sucks hard on your lip, nearly drawing blood as he fucks you into the mattress relentlessly. The way he takes you is rough, full of passion and choked back moans; as you grow slicker, arousal coating both of your thighs, he pushes into you deeper, making you see stars with each thrust of his cock.

Death. Five of his fingers dig into your hip, while the other five wrap tightly around your throat. Death. You feel somewhere between the earth and the sky as he drowns you in his essence, and bleeds you of your life force. Death. He reaches his little death with a shudder of his hips, cold beads of sweat rolling from his forehead and dripping onto yours as he paints your walls white.

Rolling back into bed after cleaning yourself, uncertainty hangs in the air; swirling in trepidation, you feel like death.

“What does this mean, Law.” you whisper hesitantly, voice nearly fading away into the chorus of crickets chirping outside the slightly ajar window.

Still as a board and gaze fixed to the ceiling, he doesn’t tell you that the plant had influenced his behavior—besides, something in the distant tone of your voice told him that you were clever enough to have come to that conclusion on your own. He doesn’t give you an apology for his recent rough and uncaring behavior; it was irrelevant to the question at hand—your real inquiry pertained to how he felt about you, while sober and lucid after working out a burst of frenzied passion.

“It means I want you to come closer.” he says, voice raspy as he sprawls his arm out, an invitation for you to settle into his side. The way you sigh as you nuzzle into his chest expresses a littering of sentiments that you were too exhausted to express; starved for affection, you drape your arm across his inked chest and give him a light squeeze, and you hum in delight when he tightens his grasp on your shoulder in return.

“Thank you for having me.” you mumble—forgiving, bright, and as fragile and damaged inside as he is, you’re far too good for him, and Law wonders if you’re even slightly aware of it.

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to find the words to tell you what you’re truly worth; selfishly, he doesn’t even try to cobble them together.

He can’t take the chance of losing you now, after all—not when he finally has you.

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x you #law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #trafalgar law #one piece smut #x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #a fever consumed me when writing this.........

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—all in; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 1,3k words. ʚ he reassures you when your insecurity comes up following your recent encounter with ada wong. ʚ misunderstanding trope; slight angst, but happy ending; kissing; profanity. ʚ a/n i love ada wong but i've just been reading too many angst about jealous!reader i needed something happier.

It has become a routine at this point.

The two of you come home after a mission, battered and bruised and a little worse for wear. All sweat and dirt and grime from the past week. It's supposed to be all smiles. You're supposed to be slipping into the shower together, rubbing all the traces of the terror from each other's skin and settling into the softness of your comforter in your shared bedroom.

Supposed to.

Of fucking course, it isn't.

You've been quiet. Leon isn't stupid. He knows that you've withdrawn into yourself, lost in your own head and you're now ticking like a time bomb, ready to explode from whatever conclusion you've come up with. He's preparing for it, bracing for the impact.

It never comes.

You drop your bag near the couch of your living room and then you're slinking into the shower. Within seconds, he hears it running. You still haven't said a word.

He sighs, settling into one of the four chairs at your dinner table. He has already grabbed a drink, an expensive bottle with a shot glass. It's unbearable—the anticipation, knowing that there's an upcoming disaster, waiting for it, but it doesn't come.

You're trying not to think, but in the confines of your shower walls, the white-marbled tiles do little to distract you as your head pounds, running back the interactions you had with her.

Bobbed black hair. Red body-tight dress. Red smear of her lipstick on his cheek—he pulled away, yes, but the smudge is still there even when you landed. The smell of her perfume. Hell, you swear you can even still hear the click of her heels.

So many years into your relationship, you think you're over this. You think you won't be so hung up over a phantom of your past anymore, but whenever she shows up as she pleases, it's as if the domesticity you've built with Leon crumbles before your very eyes.

Maybe this would be easier if you know she's indifferent towards him. Maybe it makes you a bad person to hope for such a thing. It would be so much better if he's the only one who feels anything, but you know it's the furthest thing from the truth.

You leave the shower, the heat from the hot water is getting into your head.

“Are you done?” His voice startles you as you're towelling off your hair, trying to get into your shared bedroom. You need to think, but thinking is the only thing you've been doing since that fateful run-in. You need to talk, but you don't think you're ready for that conversation.

“Mhm. You can have the shower,” you reply, trying to sound as nonchalant as you can. It's probably the longest sentence you've said to him recently.

He throws back another shot. “I'm not talking about the shower.”

“So?” It's a curt reply. Short. Not at all close to the storm brewing inside of you.

“Baby.” The sound comes out as a half-whine. “Let's talk.”

“We don't — We have nothing to talk about.”

“Don't do that,” he presses again. “Talk to me. Come on.”

“I am talking to you, Leon.” You sigh out. You've never wanted to bolt into your bedroom faster, but you can't run from this forever. So, instead, you clench your fists, approaching the dinner table. As he's holding his glass, about to down another, you grab it from him. He lets you, watches you as you pour the liquid down your throat.

“What's on your mind?” He grabs the glass from you, pouring another for himself.

“Oh, I don't know, handsome. Maybe you can enlighten me.”

In any other situation, he wouldn't have been able to hold a grin blooming on his face at the nickname, but you're so obviously mocking him. Your tone and inflections shift to imitate hers.

Ada Wong.

“We've been over this before.”

“And yet every time she shows up, we're back where we started. Again.”

“We're not,” he protests. “You like to circle back to the same old argument. I'm over it.”

“Sure, you are. That's why you keep letting her take whatever she wants and leave.” You can practically taste the bitterness on the roof of your mouth. “If you don't look so — if you don't look like you're so ready to drop everything for her everytime she shows up, maybe we won't have to keep having this conversation.”

His eyebrows scrunch together and he puts his shot glass down on the table with a clang. “That's not true. What are you implying?”

“I'm saying that I'm not sure if I walk out right now, you'll chase after me. I'm not sure you won't end up looking for her instead.”

He frowns. A flash of hurt falls over his face. You've gone too far, but you want to. You want this to hurt. You're tired of constantly being the one he settles for.

“Is that what take me for?” He snarls. “You think I'd just go around, begging her to let me on her bed? Even after all these years of—” he swallows harshly. “—of us.”

“Won't you?”

His hand falls on the table with a harsh, cracking sound. It jolts you. Even as he's visibly seething, he doesn't yell. “You're so fucking cruel.”

“What am I supposed to think, then, Leon?”

“That I love you.”

“But do you love her, too?”

“No!” His reply comes quick, with conviction—the type of conviction that devout preachers have and you know then that you're being unfair. “I don't.”

You bite the inside of your cheeks. It feels silly. After all these years, it still doesn't take much to ruffle your feathers when it comes to her. He reaches for your hand, squeezing once, twice.

“I don't know about you,” he says, “but I'm all in on this, ___. On us. Don't ever doubt that.”

Leon pushes his chair backwards, making space for you to step in between his legs. He pulls you towards him, arms wrapping around your waist. You let him, even as you know he's getting all the dirt and grime you've washed away back onto you.

“She's someone from my past. We'll keep bumping into her on missions. I can't help that.” When he speaks, you feel his voice reverberating in your chest. “I need you to know that she's not you and she will never be you. She's not even an option. There's only you, okay?”

You nod, tangling your hand in his hair. The strands used to be lighter, sun-kissed, but with age it has taken on a darker shade. Almost black.

“Okay,” you say. You pull back slightly, brushing the hair out of his face and your eyes fall to the red smudge on his cheek. Another reminder of her. As you craddle his face, you run your thumb over the smudge, rubbing it—removing the traces of her.

He leans into your touch. “And I don't 'look so ready to drop everything for her' because I'm not. That version of me doesn't exist anymore.”

You nod again. “I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

He frowns. “Say it back. We're not in a Star Wars movie.”

That draws a chuckle out of you. You tilt his chin up as you bend forward. The tip of your noses touching.

“I love you.”

You kiss him. His body reacts almost immediately, his hand finding its way up your arm to the back of your neck. The other squeezes the skin of your hips. He pulls on your thigh, coaxing you to sit on his lap. Your hands tangle through his hair. He humms into your mouth when you tug. He draws back slightly, you feel his racing breath on your face.

“I think you're going to have to shower again.” His nose nuzzles your ear, trailing down your jaw as his lips press brief kisses down the column of your neck. “With me, preferably.”

[ ]

not me writing kissing scenes as if im not touch-starved. this is a short one. i stayed up so late reading angst on ao3 and they're all along the lines of being the second choice to ada wong. i needed something to wash away the angst. very self-indulgent piece. i also slipped in the han solo/leia star wars reference. thank you for reading!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #—ki writes 🍯

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norrussell · 2 months

Text

Home | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Word count: 8316

Summary: it's been a week since George and you separated. One night he unexpectedly returns, but has enough time passed for everything to go back to normal?

Warnings: angst angst angst, fluff, more angst, but then even more fluff

A/N: Finallyyyyyy part 5 is here!!!! First of all, I want to thank everyone for reading, following, sharing, loving and supporting this mini series. I've had the time of my life writing this, something that's been brewing inside me for too long and I'm happy this platform allowed me to share it and for it to be so well received. Even if some of you called me evil for the things in part 4, but hey, I tried to make the plot interesting and unpredictable as much as I could. It would be boring if everything always ended in the same way, would it not? With that being said, I hope I manage to buy your forgiveness for the awful things in this FINAL part of bsf!George series! ♥♥♥ P.S. This song was a great inspoooo, you can thank it for getting this part

Previous part

George wasn’t mad at you. No, he was mad at himself. Mad at how his heart had betrayed him and at how he had let himself fall for someone he knew he couldn’t have. He should’ve been better at taking care of you last night, at keeping his feelings in check. He couldn't believe that he had let his feelings spill out like that, knowing deep down that it might push you away. And alcohol was no excuse. He just should’ve known better.

He stepped out of the building, the cold morning air biting at his skin, and walked towards his car, his mind filled with you. He couldn't bear to look up, couldn't bear to see the window where you stood, the image of your pained expression etched in his mind. George clenched his fists, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over once again. He had never felt so helpless, so lost.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He tried to steady his breathing as he replayed the scene in his mind over and over again. The look of shock on your face, the pain in your eyes as you pushed him away. How could he have been so foolish to think that confessing his love would solve everything? It only complicated things further, driving a wedge between the two of you.

“Dammit!” he hit the steering wheel out of frustration. He wanted to run back and knock on your door, to beg for a chance to make things right, to plead with you to give him another opportunity. But he knew deep down that he had to respect your space, your need for time to sort through your emotions. He couldn't bear the thought of causing you more pain by being any more selfish and demanding your immediate attention.

And there was no time either. Race week had started and he had to go home and pack if he meant to catch the evening flight. The further he drove from your apartment the more he felt like he was getting away from a future he had allowed himself to envision with you.

When he finally reached his apartment, he sat in his car for what felt like an eternity, staring blankly ahead. The thought of packing for the race seemed inconsequential now, a triviality in the face of the emotional storm raging inside him. But he knew he had to keep moving forward, even if every fiber of his being wanted to turn back and fight for you.

The apartment felt empty and cold, mirroring the ache in his chest. He mechanically packed his bags, his movements robotic as he tried to push down the torrent of feelings threatening to overwhelm him. The sweater you had borrowed from him lay crumpled on the bed, a painful reminder of what had transpired between you.

As George zipped up his suitcase, he paused, his hand hovering over the sweater. With a determined glint in his eyes, he picked it up and folded it carefully, tucking it into a corner of his bag. It was a small reminder of you, a piece of him that he couldn't bear to leave behind. It was the second best thing if you don’t show up on the track like it was planned as well.

The drive to the airport was a blur, the city passing by in a haze as George wrestled with his inner turmoil. Should he have fought harder? Should he have just left without a fight? The questions swirled in his mind, each one stabbing at his heart like a jagged knife.

He barely remembered checking in for his flight, the motions automatic and distant. The loudspeaker announcements and bustling crowds at the airport seemed to fade into the background as he found his seat on the plane and as the engines roared to life, propelling the aircraft down the runway, George's mind was still consumed by thoughts of you.

The plane ascended into the sky, leaving behind the city where his heart remained tangled with yours. He stared out of the window, watching the landscape below shrink into miniature shapes. The distance between him and you grew with each passing second, yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that a part of him was left behind, anchored to you.

The flight attendant interrupted his reverie, offering him a drink with a polite smile. George instinctively accepted, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee but hardly registering its taste. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, regret and longing mingling with uncertainty about what the future held for him and for you.

He made a silent promise to himself, a promise to give you all the space you needed while also holding onto hope for a future where your paths might converge once again.

You spent the whole week thinking. Wondering. Realizing. You barely left your apartment or moved from that one spot on your couch. You couldn’t enter your bedroom without being reminded of George, the memories of his presence lingering in every corner. The faint scent of his cologne still clung to the air, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared.

It wasn’t just your bedroom. Your whole apartment was full of him. Starting from the clothes that were piling up every time you had borrowed something and never returned. They were now neatly folded in his section of your closet.

The books he lent you, with his notes scribbled in the margins, were scattered on the coffee table. You picked up one of them, running your fingers over his handwriting, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the easy camaraderie you shared. But now, everything felt tainted by the confession he had made, by the emotions that had spilled out into the open and shattered the already fragile balance between you.

In the kitchen, he had his mug he always used and you didn't let anyone else touch it. “It is George's mug,” you would say. At the time you didn't think anything of it, but was it normal that friends had such possession over each other's items? Not that you were just friends, though, were you? The events of that night had made it abundantly clear that there was a depth to your relationship that extended beyond mere friendship. But where did that leave you now? Confusion clouded your thoughts, making it hard to see a way forward.

Maybe the worst part was that he even had his own toothbrush in your bathroom. How often did he crash that he–or you–needed to buy one? Next to it was his razor. No, that was definitely the worst. He shaves almost every morning and you found yourself wondering how many times had he stood in your bathroom, meticulously shaving before a big race, the sound of the blade scraping against his skin, a familiar background noise in your shared space? How many mornings had you watched him from the doorway, a warm feeling blooming in your chest at the sight of him so vulnerable yet so achingly familiar? It was a mundane yet intimate act that now felt like a distant memory, a relic of a time when things were simpler between you.

The realization that George had seamlessly become a part of your daily routine hit you like a ton of bricks. How could you go back to your normal life without him now that he had made himself so at home in your space?

The signs. They were all over. And you were blind. Too blind. Maybe even deliberately so. Standing there, you realized it was like you did everything backwards. First it was like he lived there, was your lover, friend and now a stranger. Isn't it how it always ends though? Ultimately with every ending, a person you part with becomes a stranger. Maybe not literally so, but the person you knew turns into someone you don't recognize anymore and that's what leads to a break up.

Not that you and George were completely over, far from it, but that's what happened when he confessed his love. You couldn't recognize him as your friend anymore. That wasn't your friend, couldn't be.

You moved through your apartment like a ghost, your steps heavy with the weight of sorrow. Every corner held a piece of George, a piece of the life you had built together without even realizing it. How could you have been so blind to the depth of his feelings for you? How could you have missed the signs that now seemed glaringly obvious in hindsight?

The toothbrush in the bathroom seemed to mock you, a symbol of the intimacy that had grown between you and now lay shattered at your feet. Frowning, you went to the kitchen and pulled out a cardboard box out of your pantry. You started shoving each and every of his belongings into it.

The once familiar space of your apartment now felt foreign and cold, stripped of the warmth and comfort that George had brought into it. You couldn't bear to look at the empty spot in the closet where his clothes used to hang or the blank space on the coffee table where his books had once been. It was as if he had never been there at all, as if all of it had been nothing but a figment of your imagination.

You sealed the box shut and left it by the front door. You’ll send the stuff back. Or throw them away if he doesn’t want them. Either is good. But not just yet. You wanted to hold onto them just for a little while longer. You sat on the floor next to it, buried your face in your hands and finally allowed yourself to cry.

George busied himself with media stuff and training. His days were a whirlwind of interviews and practice sessions, leaving no solitary moment to spend lost in thought. He threw himself into his work and training with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every spare moment was filled with activity, leaving no room for the thoughts of you that threatened to consume him. Or so he thought.

“Okay, that’s it.” his trainer announced. “We’re done for today.”

“Aw man, I was just in the zone,” George protested, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead.

“I don’t know what zone you were in, but you were definitely not focused. Your mind is somewhere else today. Like it was yesterday, and the day before.” the trainer replied, eyeing George with a knowing look. “I need you here, present.”

“Don't know how much more present I can be, I am literally here,” George frowned.

“Physically you are, but I need you mentally,” the trainer said and touched the side of George’s head. “I don’t mind training with you twice or even three times a day, but it’s obvious you’re running away from something.”

George's facade cracked, a flicker of vulnerability betraying the stoic mask he wore. He knew he couldn't keep up the charade any longer, not with his trainer's penetrating gaze boring into him. With a heavy sigh, he slumped down on a nearby bench, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“I told her,” he confessed, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “I told her how I felt, and she... I don’t know how to fix it.”

His trainer sat down next to him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “So you finally confessed.”

“I didn’t mean to. It just slipped. We were having a fight because-”

“Because?”

He stopped, the memories flooding back in a rush. The fight replayed in his mind like a broken record, the sharp words and raw emotions still fresh in his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before continuing.

“We got drunk and did something we shouldn’t have. We, uh, slept together. And it's not just that. There were things that happened even before...”

He felt his trainer's gaze studying him, waiting for the rest of the story. George hesitated, unsure if he should reveal more. But the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“It wasn’t just a mistake, though,” George admitted, his voice laced with regret. “I’ve been in love with her for a while now, you know that. I thought maybe she felt the same way, but when I told her...” He trailed off, unable to articulate the ache in his chest.

“She pushed me away,” George revealed, his voice barely a whisper. “Told me she didn’t see us that way. And now everything is so messed up between us. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“But she didn’t call it a mistake, did she?” His trainer's question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. George looked up, his eyes meeting the trainer's intense gaze.

“No, she didn’t,” George replied, a hint of confusion in his voice. “She just...said we needed space. That she needed space.”

His trainer nodded thoughtfully, absorbing George’s words. “Sometimes, space is what’s needed to gain a better perspective on things.”

George let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease the tension that coiled within him. “I just can’t shake this feeling that I’ve ruined everything. That I’ve lost her completely.”

“You haven’t lost her, George,” the trainer reassured him, his tone firm yet gentle. “Sometimes, taking a step back is what you both need to figure things out. Give her the space she asked for, but don’t lose hope. Love has a way of finding its way back to where it belongs.”

George looked up at his trainer, gratitude shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry to burden you with all this. Thank you for listening.”

“Don’t apologize, G, that’s what I’m here for. Not only to care about your body, but also your mind.” The trainer patted George on the back, a reassuring smile on his face. “It’s good to get it all out in the open. Now that you’ve told her how you feel, the ball is in her court. Give her some time to process everything, and in the meantime, focus on yourself. You can’t control how she feels or what she decides to do, but you can control how you handle this situation.”

George nodded, the weight on his shoulders feeling a little lighter with his trainer’s words of wisdom.

“Now go back to your room, take a shower, relax. And remember, this too shall pass. Tomorrow is a big day and she would like you to do good.”

George nodded in understanding once more, a sense of calm finally settling over him.

You never had to face any challenges alone. You always had George by your side and together, you could conquer anything. But now he turned into one of those challenges and you had to figure it out on your own. You knew deep down that the space was necessary, that you both needed time to think this through and figure out what you truly wanted in order to move on.

The familiar sounds of the city outside your window seemed to echo the turmoil in your heart. Each passing day felt like an eternity as you grappled with the weight of your decisions and the ache of George's absence.

You found yourself reaching for your phone multiple times throughout the day, your thumb hovering over his contact name before pulling back at the last second. You wanted to call him, to hear his voice and to mend the broken pieces between you two. But something always held you back. Not just yet.

You busied yourself with mundane tasks to distract yourself from thoughts of George, but his absence lingered like a ghost in every corner of your home.

A notification went off on your phone, reminding you of the race weekend approaching. If everything were right, you would be packing your bags and catching a flight and not choking on your tears in the living room, clutching your phone. The reminder only served to intensify the whirlwind of emotions already swirling inside you. You should’ve been there with him, cheering him on and supporting him through the highs and lows of the weekend. But now, the distance between you felt insurmountable, a chasm of uncertainty and unspoken words.

You missed him more than words could express, more than tears could convey.

On Saturday, you turned the TV on and watched the qualifying session even though you promised you wouldn’t. It would only torture you more. But you felt obligated to support him even from a distance, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would feel the warmth of your encouragement seeping through the miles that separated you.

The cars raced around the track, their engines roaring like thunder in the distance. You couldn't help but watch, your heart heavy with a mix of longing and regret. Each turn they took on the screen mirrored the twists and turns of your own emotions, the unpredictability of the future weighing heavily on your mind.

As you watched the cars speed by, a flash of black caught your eye. It was George's car, unmistakable even from a distance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you saw him maneuvering through the pack with skill and determination. Despite everything that had transpired between you, a part of you still held out hope for a future where you two could find your way back to each other.

But now, as you watched him from afar, a sense of regret gnawed at you. You should have been there beside him, sharing in his triumphs and soothing his defeats. Instead, you were stuck in this limbo of unreliability and self-reflection.

The qualifying session seemed to pass in a blur, the cars flashing by like ghosts on the screen, but George’s final lap had you holding your breath. When his time flashed on the screen, you let out a heavy sigh. It was a good time, but not good enough to qualify on the front. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you had been there, things would have turned out differently. A pang of guilt tugged at your heart as you watched George’s disappointed expression on the screen. You wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but you knew it was impossible.

You turned the TV off. The weight of your decision to give each other space settled deeper in your chest as you stared at the blank screen, the remnants of George's image still burned in your mind. The silence of your apartment felt stifling, suffocating you with its emptiness. You knew that you needed to make a decision soon, to either reach out to George and try to mend what was broken or to continue down this path of separation and solitude.

The following day, you woke up with a heaviness in your chest. It was race day. Would George be able to focus on the race with everything that had transpired between you two? Would he be thinking of you as he navigated each turn and straightaway? Is he even thinking of you?

As the race time drew near, you found yourself pacing around the apartment, unable to sit still. Your phone lay on the coffee table, silent and untouched. In normal circumstances, you would send him a message of encouragement, a simple "Good luck" to let him know you were thinking of him. But now, the words stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to give him false hope in case you needed more time before you finally talk. No, it was better this way.

The sound of the commentator's voice filled the room, announcing the start of the race. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the TV this time, the thought of watching George out on the track without you by his side in this situation too painful to bear. Instead, you stood by the window, staring out at the city below as if searching for some semblance of clarity in its bustling streets.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, each passing second heavy with anticipation and anxiety. Finally, the roar of engines reached a crescendo, signaling the end of the race. Your heart raced alongside them, unsure of what news awaited you.

You turned to the TV, your hands trembling as you searched for George's name amidst the list of racers. When you finally found it, your heart dropped. He was in the top 10, he scored points, but you knew it was not the result he wanted.

You couldn't help but feel responsible, as if it was your decision to give each other space that had kept you both from achieving satisfaction and now you had to live with the consequences. A tear rolled down your cheek as you thought about what could have been if you had chosen a different path.

In the quiet moments that followed, you realized that you had set yourself on this course of action alone, but you had no idea where it would lead. You needed to take a deep breath and figure out what you wanted from this arrangement, and whether it was possible to have the life you both deserved with each other.

You were getting ready for bed and it was around midnight when you heard a knock on your door. You frowned, thinking who could it possibly be at this late hour or if to even open at all. With cautious steps, you made your way to the door, a sense of apprehension tightening your chest. As you reached for the doorknob, you paused, gathering your courage before swinging the door open.

You expected a neighbor, or anyone else, but standing before you, illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the hallway, was George. His usual confident demeanor was replaced by a vulnerability you had never seen before. His eyes, usually bright, now held a mixture of sadness and longing as they met yours.

“I could’ve gone to my apartment, but it is cold and empty and I wanted to… come home.” George's voice was barely above a whisper, the words heavy with emotion.

You stood there, stunned by his unexpected presence, unsure of what to say or how to react. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, the tension palpable in the space that separated your bodies.

“But I see now that was a mistake. You clearly—” but as he reached to take his bag, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, catching him off guard.

“You’re home,” you murmured against his chest, holding him tighter.

George hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to your embrace. But as he felt the warmth of your arms around him, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, and he slowly returned the hug. The barriers that had kept you apart for so long melted away in that single embrace, leaving behind a sense of relief and an unspoken promise of forgiveness.

“I missed you,” you choked out, your voice barely audible. “I missed you so much, George.”

His response was to hold you tighter, as if trying to erase the distance and time that had separated you.

“I missed you too,” George whispered, his voice shaking with tears he was holding back. “I missed you every single day.”

The silence that enveloped you was no longer suffocating but comforting, a space where words were no longer necessary to convey the depth of your feelings for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, George finally pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he found was a deep-rooted affection and a silent plea for a fresh start.

“Come in,” you finally said, whipping away little tears and moving aside.

George stepped inside, his eyes never leaving yours as if searching for any hint of uncertainty. As he walked further into the apartment, you couldn't help but notice how the dim light from the hallway accentuated the lines of weariness on his face, lines that spoke of sleepless nights and unanswered questions.

You led him to the living room, both of you enveloped in a cocoon of silence that felt both heavy and fragile. George sat down on the arm chair, his hands fidgeting with the straps of his bag, while you perched on the edge of the couch, unsure of what to say or do next.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something quickly—”

“No need,” George interrupted, his voice soft yet firm. You nodded, another silence falling among you.

“No offense, George, but you look awful,” you couldn't help but blurt out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. George's head shot up, surprise flickering in his tired eyes, before a hint of amusement crept in.

“I haven’t slept in days, y/n,” he replied as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

A pang of guilt twinged in your chest at his admission, but also relief that you weren’t the only one having nights with little to no sleep.

“I understand,” you said softly. George nodded, his expression a mix of exhaustion and relief at being back in your presence.

“You know what I’m the most tired of?” he didn’t wait for your answer. “Being apart from you.” he opened his eyes and met yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes at George's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the sentiments you had been carrying in your own heart all this time. You reached out a trembling hand to brush a lock of hair away from his face, your fingertips lingering on his cheek as if trying to memorize the feel of his skin.

“I’m sorry for what I put us both through—”

George placed a finger against your lips, silencing your apology. “Y/n,” he called, his tone warning. “I’m tired.” his eyes darted to your lap and then back to your eyes again and you understood.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll talk in the morning. Come here now.” you pulled yourself on the couch and patted your thighs, making room for him to lay and rest his head on your lap.

You ran your fingers through his hair, the simple act bringing a sense of peace and familiarity that had been missing in both your lives for more than long.

In the soft glow of the lamp beside the couch, you sat together in silence, the rhythmic pattern of your fingers against his scalp creating a soothing lullaby that seemed to calm the storm raging within both of you.

“Did you watch the race?” he murmured.

"Yes, I did," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I watched it all."

George let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. "So you saw me messing up," his voice tinged with regret.

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, offering him comfort in your touch. “You didn't mess up. You did well, George. Top 10 is nothing to be disappointed about. I’m proud of you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes, basking in the comfort of your touch. “I wanted more,” he admitted softly, a hint of frustration seeping into his words.

You smiled, somehow finding it unusual he wanted to make a small talk out of his race. He never wanted to do that if he wasn’t satisfied with the results. But everything was better than talking about you two at the moment, you guessed.

“You always want more, George,” you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice. “But you gave it your all out there. That’s what matters,” you reassured him, your voice gentle and soothing.

George let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours. The weight of the past seemed to lift off his shoulders with each passing moment spent in your embrace. He turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a mix of gratitude and longing in his eyes. "Thank you for letting me come back," he whispered.

A wave of tenderness washed over you as you gazed down at him, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity in his expression. Without a word, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent promise of forgiveness and understanding.

As George closed his eyes, a sense of peace settled between you, the weight of past grievances slowly lifting.

“Tell me what you did without me. I want to listen to your voice,” he said, his words trailing off as sleep began to claim him.

You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through your chest at his request. But how were you to tell him about all the days spent missing him, about the hollow ache in your chest that only his presence could fill, about the countless moments when a simple sight or sound would bring back memories of him flooding into your mind. How could you convey the depth of your longing, the way his absence had left a void in your life that no amount of distractions could fill? How were you to tell him that the most you’ve done in the week was pack his things in a cardboard box that was still by the door?

But you knew George needed to rest, to find solace in the peaceful refuge you offered him. So, you began recounting mundane details of your days, from the way the sun cast golden hues through the windows in the mornings to the sound of rain tapping against the roof on lonely nights. You spoke of small victories and minor setbacks, all the while keeping your voice soft and soothing as he drifted off into a much-needed slumber.

As George's breathing evened out, you continued to stroke his hair gently, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your thighs. The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You leaned back against the couch, your thoughts swirling with memories of the time you had spent apart. The ache of missing him had been a constant companion, a dull throb in your heart that no amount of distraction could alleviate. And now that he was here, lying in your lap once more, you were at a loss for how to bridge the gap that had formed between you. But that will have to wait till morning.

With a heavy sigh, you shifted slightly on the couch, careful not to disturb George, and closed your eyes.

A motion woke you. You were moving, but not of your own volition. As consciousness slowly seeped back into your mind, you realized that the movement was not yours alone. Someone was carrying you, their arms wrapped securely around your body. Confusion and fear jolted through you as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself met with darkness. The soft glow of the lamp by the couch was nowhere to be seen, leaving you disoriented in the black void surrounding you. The arms holding you tightened slightly, a silent reassurance in their grip.

"George?" you whispered, the word barely audible even to your own ears. A shiver ran down your spine as the silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of footsteps echoing in the dark.

A voice, deep and familiar, cut through the void. "It's me," George whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your back as he carried you towards the bedroom.

You wanted to protest, to insist that he didn’t have to go through the trouble, but the comfort of his embrace and the rhythmic sway of his movements lulled you into compliance. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent that brought a sense of peace unlike anything else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself being laid down gently on the soft bed.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. "I just couldn't bear to leave you there on the couch."

You reached out a hand to find him in the darkness, intertwining your fingers with his as a silent reassurance that it was alright.

“Stay with me,” you breathed.

George's hand tightened around yours, his touch grounding you. “No, let’s not repeat past…” he trailed off, not wanting to call it a mistake. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Then let me sleep on the couch, you can stay here—” you insisted, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. You sat up, the covers pooling at your waist, and made to move off the bed. But George’s hand on your arm stopped you, his touch gentle yet firm.

“No,” he murmured, his voice holding a note of determination that brooked no argument. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.” he kissed your forehead and left the room.

You woke up to the first light of dawn filtering in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, the events of the previous night almost feeling dreamlike. That’s when your eyes shot up and you bolted upright in bed, the bed sheets slipping off your body as you stumbled out of bed and ran to the living room almost tripping over your two feet.

You leaned against the doorframe and breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted him sleeping still on your couch. It wasn’t a dream. He was really there. Silently, you made your way over to him and sat down in the arm chair beside the couch.

You took in the sight of him. He was sleeping on his stomach with mouth slightly parted, stretched out with his whole length that his feet were dangling over the armrest. His hair was tousled, and the early morning light painted a golden hue over his features, highlighting the faint stubble on his jawline and the way his eyelashes swept against his cheeks.

The blanket he found was too short to cover his whole frame and the decorative pillow he used as a makeshift headrest had slid slightly to the side. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a surge of affection welling up inside you as you watched him sleep so peacefully.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply be in his presence, to take in the quiet intimacy of this shared space. The distance that had seemed insurmountable in the past now felt like a small gap waiting to be bridged. With each rise and fall of George’s chest, you felt a renewed sense of hope blooming within you.

“… You’re staring.” George murmured without opening his eyes.

You immediately turned away, a blush creeping in. “I was not.”

“I could feel the intensity of it, even with my eyes closed.” you could hear the chuckle in his voice.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. You shifted in your seat, trying to appear nonchalant as you averted your gaze from George’s sleeping form.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes still closed. “I don’t mind.”

You risked a glance back at him, finding his lips turned up in a small, lopsided smile. The warmth in his expression eased the tension coiled within you, and you couldn’t help but return his smile.

“Hey, y/n, look at me,” he said and your eyes finally met, making you suck in a deep breath. “Good morning,” he smiled.

“Good morning,” you replied. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did,” George answered, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the couch. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a contented sigh.

"You should have slept in the bed," you said, unable to keep the words from spilling out. "I could have taken the couch."

George shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm fine here," he assured you, his voice warm and gentle. "Besides, I've slept on worse during my travels."

You shook your head, but chuckled anyway, the tension ebbing away as you let yourself relax into the moment.

“Do you… Do you want to stay for breakfast? I could make us something to eat,” you offered, a flicker of hope dancing in your eyes.

George’s smile widened, his gaze meeting yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Yes, I would love that, y/n,” he replied, gratitude shining in his eyes.

“Great!” You rose from the arm chair, a newfound sense of determination fueling your steps as you made your way to the kitchen. The familiar sounds of George following behind you brought a smile to your lips, the simple act of sharing a meal together filling you with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll just wash up while you prepare the food,” George offered, rolling up his sleeves as he headed towards the bathroom to freshen up.

The sound of running water mingled with the clinking of dishes as you set about gathering ingredients for breakfast.

As you cracked eggs into a bowl, a sense of contentment washed over you. George’s presence in your home felt right, like a missing piece clicking into place. The aroma of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen, punctuated by the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. But the magic of the morning was disrupted when George called for you.

“Um, y/n, did you throw away my toothbrush?”

You froze mid-crack, the eggshell slipping from your fingers and landing in the bowl with a soft splat. The box.

You quickly wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and rushed to the bathroom, where George was standing with an open toiletry bag in his hand. “I thought I left my toothbrush here,” he said, a puzzled expression on his face.

Your heart sank as you remembered how you packed all of his things into a cardboard box and put it by the front door, looking to erase any trace of him from your apartment. The guilt washed over you in a wave, knowing that you had acted rashly in a moment of hurt and confusion.

“George, I…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. How could you tell him that you had packed up his belongings, fully intending to remove every trace of him from your place? The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken regret and heartache.

George’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, his gaze flickering with a mix of disappointment and resignation. “You were going to send my things back,” he stated quietly, more as a statement of fact than a question.

You nodded wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes as shame burned hot in your cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, the weight of your actions crashing down on you with full force. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, y/n,” George interrupted gently, his voice soft and forgiving. “I understand why you did it.” He reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. “I know things have been difficult between us, but we can talk about it. We can figure this out together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally dared to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his gaze that mirrored the ache in your own heart. “I never wanted to push you away,” you whispered, the words heavy with regret. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything.”

George’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and full of understanding. “We both made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t try to make things right.”

A surge of hope blossomed within you at his words, a flicker of light in the darkness that had clouded your hearts for so long. But all of a sudden, the apartment smelled of burning.

“Oh my God, the bacon!” You bolted back to the kitchen, where smoke billowed from the skillet on the stove. The once-crackling bacon lay charred and forgotten, a victim of your distraction. Frantically waving a towel to disperse the smoke, you turned off the burner and opened a window to let the acrid fumes escape.

George followed you into the kitchen, a chuckle escaping his lips at the sight of the burnt bacon. “Well, I guess breakfast is going to be delayed a bit,” he remarked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but join in his laughter, the tension that had gripped your heart moments ago loosening its hold. “I promise I’m a better cook than this,” you said, a sheepish grin on your face as you cleared away the charred remains of breakfast.

“I have no doubt about that,” George replied, stepping closer to you and taking the towel from your hands to help with the clean-up. The simple act of working together in harmony warmed your soul, a silent understanding passing between you as you moved around the kitchen in tandem. Once the cleaning was done, you both settled at the small kitchen table.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” you said, rushing to the corner by your front door.

You returned with the cardboard box that held George's things, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination.

“All your things are in here,” George watched as you placed the cardboard box on the table, his expression unreadable as you spoke. Silence enveloped the kitchen, broken only by the distant sounds of traffic outside. Talking about packing his stuff was one thing, but seeing that you actually did it was another. You held your breath, waiting for George’s response, unsure of what to expect. Would he be angry? Hurt? Disappointed?

Slowly, George reached out and lifted the lid of the box, his gaze flickering over the contents within. His fingers brushed against familiar items—a toothbrush, a worn paperback novel, a battered travel journal, a familiar beanie, the softly knit fabric a testament to the countless times he had worn it on chilly nights—as if seeking reassurance in their presence.

George's eyes flickered between the contents of the box and your face, searching for any hint of what was to come. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of your actions, the fear of rejection looming over you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“I never should have tried to erase you from my life like that. It was a mistake and I’m sorry.” you said. “You can have everything put back or take them with you. It’s your choice now. If it’s the latter, I’ll understand—”

“What do you want?” His voice was soft, but the question echoed loudly in the space between you. What did you want? It was a simple question with a million answers, each one more complicated than the last.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not up to me—”

“It matters to me,” George interjected, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. “I need to know what you want. Not what you think I want to hear, but what you truly desire in your heart.”

Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, you met his gaze. “I want you back. All the time, everyday.”

George's expression softened, a mixture of relief and hope shining in his eyes. Without a word, he reached for your hand and pulled you onto his lap. You didn’t protest. The gesture was both familiar and foreign, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a lifeline.

“I want that too, y/n,” George said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I want us to try again, to work through our problems together and rebuild what we had.” he rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you as you leaned into him.

“I was so scared, George. When you confessed—”

“Look, we can pretend I never confessed if it means we’ll stay—”

“What?! No! You can’t just take back your confession! That’s such a cowardly move and the least I expected from you, George William Russell!”

George's eyes widened at your outburst, surprise flickering across his face before giving way to a mixture of amusement and affection. His grip on you tightened briefly before he loosened it, allowing you to turn around and face him. You could see the humor dancing in his eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Oh no, you pulled the middle name card and now I’m terrified.” A chuckle escaped George’s lips, the tension between you both dissipating with each shared smile.

“I had to. I will not allow it. Especially not when I feel the same way towards you.” your admission hung in the air like a fragile thread, waiting to be strengthened or severed by the response it would elicit.

George’s eyes widened at your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. “Eh… fucking pardon?"

“I’m in love with you too, George William. I mean it.” you even surprised yourself how easy it was to say it. You didn’t feel scared anymore. If anything, you felt invincible.

But seeing the look on his face made you doubt. You held your breath, waiting for his response, the silence stretching between you like an impassable chasm. What if he didn’t love you like that anymore? What if the space you have asked for helped him get over you? He did try to take back his confession.

Slowly, a smile spread across his face, breaking like the dawn after a long night.

“I… I don’t even know where to begin,” George murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I never expected…” He trailed off, at a loss for words as he reached up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent.

You rested your forehead against his, sighing in relief. “Time apart helped me open my eyes. I realized how much you mean to me, that I was so lost without you. I tried to fill the void your absence left with distractions and busyness, but nothing ever felt quite right. It was like a puzzle missing a piece, incomplete no matter how hard I tried to force it together. But now, with you here in front of me, holding me close and looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters, I finally feel whole again.”

George’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he listened to your heartfelt words, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. The weight of the past lingered in the air between you, but the warmth of your confession enveloped you both like a comforting embrace. In that moment, all the uncertainties and fears melted away, leaving only the truth of your feelings shining bright.

“I love you, y/n,” George finally whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never stopped loving you.”

You captured his lips in a tender kiss, pouring all your love and gratitude into the simple act, catching him off guard. But quickly, he kissed you back, burying his hands in your hair to pull you even closer.

It was a kiss filled with longing, with promises of a future together, of rediscovered love and unspoken apologies. The world outside faded away as you melted into each other, the taste of forgiveness and hope on your lips. The box of George’s things lay forgotten on the table, a silent witness to the reunion that had unfolded before it.

As you pulled back, George cupped your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. “I want to make things right between us, y/n. I want us to rebuild what we had and create something even stronger. Will you give me that chance?”

There was no hesitation in your response as you nodded, a smile of pure joy lighting up your face. “Yes, George. I want that more than anything.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but his stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the tender moment with a burst of laughter from both of you. George’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he sheepishly rubbed his stomach, a playful glint in his eyes.

“I think that’s a sign we should probably eat something,” he said with a chuckle.

You nodded, feeling your stomach join in with its own protest. “I think burnt bacon is off the menu for this morning,” you replied, teasingly.

George laughed and stood up, pulling you along with him. “Let’s order in. I’ll make sure this time it’s something edible.”

“What’s wrong with my cooking?”

George raised an eyebrow at your question, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Your cooking is charming. But let’s just say I prefer my bacon a little less… crispy.”

You playfully swatted his arm before following him to the living room, where the two of you settled down on the couch with your favorite takeout menus spread out. As you leaned against George’s side, the scent of new beginnings lingering in the air around you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for second chances and the love that never truly faded, no matter how much time had passed. Together, you began planning your first meal as a couple, laughter and joy filling the space that once held only precariousness and regret.

And as you listened to George’s easy banter and felt his fingers interlaced with yours, you knew deep in your heart that this time, everything would be different. This time, you both were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, hand in hand, knowing that you’ll always have each other.

246 notes · View notes

spicyspiders · 1 year

Text

dimbles of venus

Leon Kennedy x Male Reader Smut.

I played my first resident evil game a long time ago, but couldn't finish cause I was too scared (also because I got stuck on a boss). There are so many hot guys in the franchise though that I've been thinking about giving it another try. This fic is inspired by this image. Leon mainly bottoms in this, but there's a tiny part where he tops at the end.

Since Leon joined Raccoon City’s police department, it feels like you’ve been trying to fix your routine. Some days, it’s easier; others, it’s more complicated.

As all days start, it begins in the morning. You wake up to his alarm blaring out in the dark space of your bedroom. The covers do little to muffle the noise when you pull them tightly around your ears.

The display pulls a chuckle out of Leon at least, “sorry, baby,” he whispers after turning off the alarm. He reaches out into the dark and his hand lands on your shoulder. For a few seconds, he rubs at your shoulder over the cover before the touch pulls away and you hear the bathroom door opening and then closing.

When you pull the cover down and look at the clock, the red numbers display the same time you’re used to seeing. When your eyes open again after you hear the bathroom door open, nearly twenty minutes have passed.

The light from the bathroom door cuts through the darkness, letting you watch Leon get ready for the day. He steps around the room quietly, putting the pieces of his uniform on one by one. When he has to grab something from the closet, you hear him let out a soft curse under his breath when he accidentally shuts the door louder than he intended.

You pull yourself up from the bed and pad over to where he’s standing. You press a kiss onto his shoulder, the same one he put his hand on earlier on your body. It feels too early to speak so you go into the bathroom instead, but not before sending Leon a small smile.

You brush your teeth and stare at your bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror. You could’ve gone back to sleep if you wanted, not having to get to work for a few hours, but you’ve grown used to these quiet mornings with Leon.

“Coffee?” Leon asks when you step into the kitchen.

You respond after kissing him softly, “yeah,” you rub your eyes as you open one of the cabinets and grab two mugs. When you place them down beside the machine as it brews the hot liquid into the pot, Leon grabs you before you can step over to the fridge.

The creamer in the fridge can wait, you decide as Leon presses his lips to yours and the two of you exchange several soft kisses. You can feel parts of his uniform dig into your torso, but you don’t mind.

You reluctantly pull away when the machine powers down to finish what you were doing. Leon grips the sides of the counter like that’s the only thing that’s keeping him in place and not following you and resuming what you were doing. It brings a small smirk to your face.

“What?” Leon asks when you turn around.

“Nothing,” you respond before stealing another quick kiss.

Leon asks you the same thing every morning, and this morning it’s after you’ve both sat down at your small dining room table. “Why don’t you go back to bed?” He asks after taking a sip of his coffee.

“I won’t be able to after this,” you gesture to the cup that sits in front of you.

Leon sets his own down before speaking again, “I hate that I wake you up so early every morning,” he smiles sadly down at the table.

“So you want me to go to bed and leave you all alone?” You ask. You keep your face blank, but your expression soon cracks as you smile and let out a laugh.

“I just know how grumpy you can get without your sleep,” Leon responds, laughing harder when you try to kick him under the table. He easily catches your foot in between his ankles.

You wrap your hands around the warm mug, wondering if Leon’s face feels as warm as the liquid inside as you glance up and see a blush light up his face. You sit in silence as you both drink your cups of coffee. When you look up at Leon, he sits there, already watching you.

You see him out the door nearly an hour later. Your hands itch at your sides as you say goodbye beside the door. You want to reach out and beg him not to go and go back to bed, but you know how hard he worked to get to where he is and you don’t want to threaten that.

Leon knows he’s in a dangerous profession and knows that you worry, but he still goes through with it every morning. “Hey,” Leon says softly, cupping his hands on your face. You must have stood there for too long, unmoving with your face full of emotion.

“I’m fine. I just worry about you,” you say.

“I know,” Leon says simply. He kisses you, soft and slow, and when you pull back, you’re both smiling. “I worry about you too, you know.”

Leon’s thumbs run along the edges of your mouth as you let out a soft laugh, “I work the day shift at a grocery store, why would you be worried?”

“Those shopping carts are dangerous. You nearly-”

“I know, I know,” you push away from Leon, “you nearly ran over my foot the last time we went shopping,” you fake a voice, trying your best to sound like him.

Leon laughs in the same way he had at the table and kisses you one last time before he’s out the door.

That evening, Leon comes home exhausted.

You’re in the kitchen when he comes home, humming a song under your breath as you stir the food you’re preparing on the stove. You only see him for a few seconds when he comes inside as he heads straight for your bedroom to change out of his work clothes.

He’s back a few minutes later to wrap his arms around your waist. He rests his weight on your back and lays his head on your shoulder. He lets out a soft chuckle when he recognizes the tune, “I hate that song.”

“At least you don’t have to hear it almost every hour of your shift,” you run your fingers down one of his arms and they tighten around you momentarily.

Leon turns his head to kiss up the column of your neck, “just quit your job,” he whispers when he gets to your ear.

You had talked about it before when he had first joined the force, and when he got paid for the first time. You always used the excuse of how easily bored you could get when he brought it up. Another time, you brought up how it’s smart to have extra money saved up.

Really, you could quit your job if you wanted to. You were sure you could find a hobby, and Leon made enough money for the both of you to live comfortably. The only thing you could think about saving for was a bigger apartment or even a house, but you liked where you lived now, even if it felt cramped sometimes.

“So I can be your stay at home boyfriend?”

“You do already cook for me,” Leon said, looking over your shoulder to see what you were making.

You elbowed him in his side, not enough to hurt, but just enough that Leon stepped away laughing.

Leon placed a soft kiss on your cheek after grabbing two plates and setting them on the counter. This time, he leaned against the counter, his body facing where you stood as he told a story about how his day at work was.

He continued on even as you ate dinner, gesturing around wildly with the fork he held. It brought a small smile to your face.

Done with his story, you and Leon washed dishes silently. His soapy fingers would brush against yours when you would pass clean dishes over for him to dry.

“Shouldn’t your fingers be dry?” You asked after handing him a wet fork.

“I would be if you didn’t throw the dishes at me at get water everywhere,” he said, not taking his eyes off the fork he was drying. “I’ve already taken a shower tonight, you know,” he smirked, and went to go place it back in the drawer.

“Thanks for reminding me,” you said dryly. “Stop!” You yelped when he placed his wet fingers on the back of your neck.

“What? I’m just waiting for the next thing I have to dry,” Leon said innocently.

This time, you handed him the dish roughly, making sure a few droplets of water would land on him.

Leon shook his head, trying but failing to keep the smile from appearing on his face, “I’m holding a weapon.”

You let out a laugh, “the coffee mug you used this morning?”

“You know how sturdy this thing is? I’ve dropped it so many times.”

“I know. That’s why I get up with you every morning so I can see when it finally breaks.”

“That hurts,” Leon holds a hold up to his heart, “but I can’t really blame you.”

It’s quiet after that as you finish up. When you’re all done, Leon wraps an arm around your shoulder as you take the short walk from the kitchen to the living room. If you feel the wetness of his fingers wetting the fabric of your shirt, you ignore it and choose to lean into his touch instead.

He keeps his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder as you settle down onto the couch, like he’s afraid you’re going to run away.

“What do you want to watch?” Leon asks.

“Don’t care,” you rest your head on his shoulder, watching as Leon flips through the channels with the remote.

He settles on a nighttime sitcom that you barely pay attention to. Leon can pose as such a distraction, even in quiet moments. Perhaps it isn’t really that though. Maybe it’s your body having a natural reaction to him being this close to you.

It’s like a thrumming under your skin that’s only sated when your lips are on his. His mouth is wet and soft when you press your lips to his. They open easily to let your tongue inside, just as easy as it is to wiggle your way into his lap.

What plays on the television is soon forgotten as all of Leon’s attention is turned toward you. Your nights usually end up like this: with you or Leon in the other’s lap, lazily kissing and rolling your hips into each other.

You always keep your hands above the waist and Leon does the same. You normally save sex for the weekend, with you’re both off work for two days and are able to fully enjoy it. Not that you didn’t sometimes enjoy it fast, you just preferred to take your time.

With it being a Thursday, you only had one more day to wait. It made the pleasure curling in your gut all the sweeter.

Leon could read you well and could tell just from the pitch of your moans that your orgasm was starting to build. He pulled away from the kiss you were just locked in and moved his hands from your hips to your back. He pulled you down as he fell back into the couch, holding your body against his to keep you from moving.

Your head fell onto his shoulder, trying to get your breathing back under control while trying to ignore how your hard cock was pressed right against his. It felt like forever for your erection to go down, but when it eventually did, Leon rewarded you with a few soft presses of his lips to yours.

You could see a blush lighting up his pale skin when he pulled away. You ran a thumb down his cheek, chasing the heat under his skin. In contrast, the hair on the back of his neck was still damp from his shower when your other hand went to the back of his neck to play with the soft hair you found back there.

You pulled him in by the back of his neck to rest against your upper chest, “let’s go to bed,” you said quietly into the top of his head.

Leon’s arms tightened around you like he didn’t want to get up, but they loosened a second later.

You switched off the television and all of the lights. If Leon asked, you didn’t run to your bedroom because you were afraid of the dark, but because you were ready for bed. And if Leon sickered around his toothbrush as he watched you run into your bedroom, you definitely ignored it and didn’t jab a finger into his ribs when you walked past.

It was your turn to laugh as you watched in the mirror as Leon rubbed at his side when you had jabbed your finger. You kissed the pout from his mouth when you were done brushing your teeth, the kiss tasting minty.

In the darkness of your bedroom, you fell into the cool sheets, and your head fell onto a pillow that was the same temperature. You could feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your midsection and a warm chest press up against your back.

“Are your ribs okay?” You ask into the quiet of your bedroom.

“They’ll survive,” Leon says into the back of your neck.

“Love you,” you say around a yawn.

You fall asleep to the murmur of Leon’s words, falling into a deep sleep.

You wake up slowly, still in the same position you fell asleep in, but much warmer. The back of your neck feels slick with sweat. Your body tenses when a wet tongue runs over the back of your neck, licking up a bead that had started falling.

“Leon?”

“Finally awake?” He asks. He rolls you onto your back and gets on top so he can trace his tongue over your pulse in your neck.

“You have to work,” you whine and clutch your fingers into the bedsheets to keep yourself from wrapping your arms around his back.

Leon laughs softly, pressing his smile into your neck, “wanted to surprise you, but I just couldn’t wait.” His hips go down to grind his hard cock into yours. You weren’t hard yet, but at the feel of his cock, yours was quickly getting there.

“You’re telling me we could’ve fucked on the couch and in bed?” You grind your hips up into Leon’s. You wanted to be angry, but the emotion was soon forgotten as it was overtaken by pleasure.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Leon says, his words full of promise. He starts by pulling his clothes off. Or, at least you guess he was by the noise of fabric hitting the floor.

You feel the bed dip and then the room gets much brighter. Your guess was indeed correct, much to your satisfaction.

“Uh uh,” Leon says when you try and reach for him.

“Fucker,” you say under your breath and start pulling your shirt off.

“What was that?” Leon pauses where he was pulling the rest of his clothes off.

“Nothing,” you say quickly. While your shirt is over your eyes, you use that time to roll them.

You get the rest of your clothes off quickly, wanting to spend as much time as you could watching Leon. It took a lot of work for Leon to get to where he was to physically qualify to become an officer and it sure did pay off. To both of your benefits.

You were greeted to the sight of a pair of muscular arms that framed a broad chest. Your eyes tracked down his chest until they reached the trail of hair that normally disappeared into his underwear and pants. What was now in your view was what the hair led to, Leon’s cock twitching in the air as you stared at it.

“My eyes are up here,” Leon wrapped a hand around his cock and gave it a slow stroke.

“I’m just admiring the view,” you did like Leon and wrapped a hand around your own cock, only taking a few pulls for it to come to full hardness.

Leon huffed, “let me know when you’re done.”

You took your hand off of your cock and wrapped your hands around his wrists so you could pull him back on top of you, “all done,” you whispered before your mouth met his.

You can’t help but run your hands down his back until the globes of his ass cheeks fill each of your hands. You knead the skin, moaning in delight when Leon grinds your hard cocks together. The head of your cocks are wet, leaving a sticky trail when he lifts his hips back up.

“Get on your stomach on the bed,” you pant when you pull away from the kiss.

Leon is quick to comply and even spreads his legs out so you can make your way in between. He lays his head down on his side of the bed, on his pillow, looking comfortable and stretched out.

Like your eyes just did when looking at him when he was taking his clothes off, you start at the top of his body. You press soft kisses onto the back of his neck as you start your track down his body. You get distracted by each freckle you find, wanting to drag your lips across each one, but you keep going.

You have to fold your body up and make it smaller to stay on the bed when you go lower. When you reach the dimbles of his spine, you kiss each one, and feel Leon shiver under your touch. You spend a few moments at his ass before you spread it open, watching how the skin under your fingertips goes red when you squeeze and release it.

Leon’s hole is pretty and pink when you pull his ass cheek’s apart. You run a dry finger over his hole and glance up when you hear him gasp. His hips inch up, pressing back into your finger, which gives you the perfect opportunity to bring your head down and lick a long stripe over his hole.

“Fuck,” you hear Leon breath out into the pillow beneath his head. He pushes his hips back into your face, groaning when your tongue spears inside.

Spit falls from your open mouth, dribbling down your chin. It falls down in the same way your spit falls down Leon’s taint. You chase after it, stopping when you get to his balls, sucking at them wetly.

Leon pulls you off with a hand in your hair. You meet his mouth eagerly, panting around the kiss you’re locked in.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth, baby,” Leon says.

“That a bad thing?”

Leon doesn’t respond, only sends a dirty smirk your way before he’s reaching into the bedside table for the bottle of lube that sits inside. He rolls over onto his back when he grabs it and pulls you back down into another kiss. Leon presses the bottle into your chest with a sweaty hand and you grab and open it, all without taking your lips off of his.

“Cold,” Leon whimpers when your wet finger makes its way between his legs.

“Shh,” you press sweet kisses onto his lips in forgiveness.

With practiced ease, your finger goes in his hole. You watch his face carefully for any signs of pain, but soon after the first is in, Leon is whimpering for you to add another.

When the second is inside, you push them deep and angle them so they press into Leon’s prostate. You look from his face to his cock when you press your fingers up against the bundle of nerves again, watching his cock give a twitch and a glob of precome slide down the head.

“So tight for me,” your mermur when you press a third finger inside. Leon practically fucks himself back onto your fingers, chasing the heat of your mouth so he can press his lips to yours.

By the time he’s whining into your mouth, you pull your fingers free from his wet hole. You give yourself a few slow strokes, drinking in Leon’s already wrecked appearance. You almost want to tease him by rubbing the head of your cock against his hole, but you knew you would look the same if you were in Leon’s position.

Leon’s blue eyes lock onto your eyes as you push inside and slowly bottom out. He wraps his legs around your waist tightly, making his hard cock rub against your stomach.

You laugh breathlessly when you’re all the way inside, “you couldn’t even wait until the morning,” you give an experimental thrust, “you had to have me now.”

Leon nods his head, his hair damp with sweat sticking to his forehead. You push the strands away so you can rest your forehead against his. You gasp into each other’s mouths when Leon clenches down onto your cock.

“Ready?”

“Please,” Leon begs in answer.

You can’t say no to him, especially when he gives another tight clench to your cock. You hold yourself above him on shaky arms as you pull out. You give a steady thrust back in only to pull out once you’re all the way back inside.

The tight wet channel around your cock makes you never want to pull out, but the noises Leon makes eggs you on. His little breathy noises turn into full on punched out moans as your pace picks up.

You place your hands on his chest, squeezing at his pecs to gain a better grip so you can fuck him harder. Your hands slip after a few brutal thrusts from the sweat on his chest and on your hands, but that doesn’t stop you. You move your hands to play with his nipples, twisting at them until they both become tight little nubs.

Leon lets out high pitched moans at the feeling on his nipples and they only get higher when you lean down to sooth one tight nipple with your tongue. After moving to the second to give it the same attention, you blow softly over the sensitive skin, Leon clenching down tightly over the feeling.

You move your head to kiss at his swollen lips, biting lightly at the bottom one. Your kiss turns dirty and filthy as you dig your hands into the sheets on either side of Leon’s body to start up again your intense pace.

“Close?” You ask between your mouths, “gonna come for me?”

Leon nods feverishly, his moans ringing out. It only takes a few flicks of your wrist after wrapping a hand around his cock for him to come. Leon’s balls draw tight and he comes in messy stripes up his chest, heaving under the weight of his orgasm.

You pull your hand off and wrap them both around his waist to fuck inside of him. You still after thrusting jerkily, coming as deep as you can.

Leon’s legs unwrap themselves from your waist and you collapse down ontop of his sweaty body. He takes your weight with a grunt and wraps his arms tightly around you. He presses his lips to yours and you kiss lazily as you come back down from your respective highs.

He makes a noise of protest when you try and pull away, “I have to turn the light off,” you let out a quiet laugh.

Leon grumbles but eventually lets you up after a few more kisses. Before turning the lamp off, you grab a rag to wipe the both of you down with, spending a few moments in the bathroom to make sure it’s warm.

Leon stretches out as you wipe him down, making you laugh, “hurry back to bed,” he says, his eyes already slipping shut.

You get back into bed once you’ve wiped yourself down and turned the light back off. You don’t look at the clock to see the time, but from how it becomes pitch black in your bedroom once the light is off, it must still be late.

Leon wraps himself around you tightly, making sure you’re both covered by the blanket. He runs his nose over the back of your neck before going back over the path with his lips, “we’ve got a long weekend ahead of us,” he says when he’s done. “What do you want to do?”

“I can think of a few things.”

“Which are?” Leon asks, running the tip of his tongue along the side of your neck.

“I’ll tell you later,” you smile when Leon nips at the skin on your neck, “I’m tired.”

Yes, most of your ideas pertained to sex, but there was also other things you could have spent your time on during the long weekend. Funnily enough, the morning started like others had, but when Leon had started kissing you as you both waited on the coffee maker, you found yourself in the living room.

It didn’t take long for the coffee to be forgotten, your mind focusing on others things. Mainly the hard line of Leon’s cock as you bounced up and down in his lap and rode him into the couch.

When you were done, you both sauntered back into the kitchen to enjoy a cup of lukewarm coffee.

#x male reader #x male reader smut #leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy x male reader smut

426 notes · View notes

horeformilfs · 5 months

Text

Little Raven

Lady Lesso x Fem!Reader

TW: Anxiety, Feelings of worthlessness, Emotional Shutdown

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

Y/N strolled through the dimly lit corridors of the School for Evil, the hallowed institution where villains were sculpted into their wicked destinies. As a student navigating the twisted path of darkness, Y/N had found an unexpected source of warmth in the form of Lady Lesso, the formidable dean of the school.

Their clandestine romance had flourished amidst the shadows, hidden from the prying eyes of other students and faculty. Lady Lesso, with her stern exterior, had a soft spot for Y/N, and the two shared stolen moments in the recesses of the sinister campus.

One day, driven by an irresistible desire to be closer to Lady Lesso, Y/N concocted a mischievous plan. The dean had a particular fondness for a cozy hoodie, and Y/N decided to liberate it for a while. The hoodie carried the lingering scent of Lady Lesso, an aromatic blend of authority and affection.

Y/N, wearing the purloined garment, reveled in the familiar scent as they attended classes and moved about the school. The hoodie provided a sense of comfort, as if Lady Lesso's presence surrounded them.

However, every secret has its reckoning.

One evening, Lady Lesso discovered the theft. Her usually stern expression contorted into a frown as she confronted Y/N.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of anger and surprise. "Is that my hoodie you're wearing?"

Caught in the act, Y/N sheepishly nodded, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Well, it smells amazing, like you."

Lady Lesso's anger intensified. "That doesn't give you the right to steal it! Return it immediately."

Y/N, unwilling to part with the stolen treasure, defiantly crossed their arms. "But it's so comfy. Can't I keep it a little longer?"

The dean's eyes narrowed, a storm brewing in her gaze. "Y/N, this is unacceptable. Give it back, now."

A playful smirk danced on Y/N's lips. "Make me."

Lady Lesso huffed in frustration but, unable to resist the playful challenge, a smirk mirrored Y/N's. "Fine, have it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you."

The chase through the sinister halls of the School for Evil turned into a twisted dance between Lady Lesso and Y/N. Wolf guards, initially amused by the spectacle, dispersed as a warning glare from the dean reminded them of their duties.

Y/N, thinking they had successfully evaded Lady Lesso, sought refuge in the dimly lit library. As the clicking of Lesso's heels echoed through the silence, Y/N held their breath, hiding behind towering shelves of ancient tomes.

Lesso, with a teasing smile playing on her lips, began her hunt. "Little raven, where are you hiding?" Her voice echoed through the library, a mix of amusement and determination. She knew every nook and cranny that Y/N favored, deliberately choosing to draw out the game.

Y/N suppressed a giggle as Lady Lesso dramatically searched each hiding spot. The dean's theatrical flair added an unexpected element of humor to the chase. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Lesso taunted, relishing the game.

Just as Y/N thought they had successfully eluded Lesso, the dean left the library. A false sense of security enveloped Y/N as they emerged from their hiding place, only to be startled by Lesso's sudden reappearance.

Lesso materialized behind Y/N, the tips of her long nails brushing against the exposed skin of Y/N's waist. A shiver ran down Y/N's spine as Lesso whispered, "Found you, my little raven."

Y/N froze, breath caught in their throat. Lesso's chuckle resonated in the library, a sound that sent both a thrill and a tremor through Y/N. The dean, with a wicked grin, seized Y/N and led them towards the dreaded Doom Room.

Inside the foreboding chamber, Lady Lesso continued her playful banter. "Did you really think you could escape from me, little raven? You may be mischievous, but you can never outwit the dean of the School for Evil."

Y/N, caught in Lesso's magnetic gaze, couldn't help but smile. "Maybe I enjoy being caught by you, Dean Lesso."

Lesso raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Oh, is that so? Well, we'll see how much you enjoy your punishment, my daring little raven."

Lady Lesso, with an air of authority, led Y/N to the imposing chair at the center of the Doom Room. With a wave of her hand, she employed her dark magic to bind Y/N's wrists to the arms of the chair. The atmosphere in the room shifted, tension lingering as Y/N attempted to maintain an innocent facade.

Lesso, however, saw through the charade. She circled the chair, a sly grin on her face, and continued to tease Y/N mercilessly. "Oh, my little raven, what have you gotten yourself into? Stealing from the dean? You must have a death wish."

Y/N tried to appear calm and unbothered, but each teasing remark from Lesso chipped away at their composure. The facade of innocence crumbled, revealing a flustered Y/N beneath.

Lesso, reveling in the newfound vulnerability, continued her playful assault. "You thought you could outwit me? How adorable. You're not as cunning as you think, little raven."

Y/N, feeling the heat rise to their cheeks, shot back, "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't taken anything."

Lesso chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. "You can play innocent all you want, but it won't save you. I know you too well, my dear."

As Lesso persisted in her teasing, Y/N's calm facade finally crumbled. Frustration and embarrassment painted their expression. Lesso, seizing the opportunity, continued to playfully degrade and taunt Y/N, stoking the flames of their flustered state.

In a moment of vulnerability, Y/N snapped. "Okay, fine! I took your hoodie, alright?" The admission hung in the air, the weight of truth settling between them.

Lesso, with a triumphant smirk, leaned in close. "And why, pray tell, would my darling little raven resort to petty theft?"

Y/N hesitated before finally confessing, "Because, Lady Lesso, it felt like you've been too busy lately. I just wanted to feel close to you, that's all."

Lesso's triumphant smirk faltered as Y/N's confession hung in the air. The mischievous game had taken an unexpected turn, revealing a vulnerability in Y/N that tugged at the dean's heartstrings. Instantly, Lesso's demeanor shifted from playful teasing to genuine concern.

"Y/N," she said softly, her tone laced with care, "why didn't you tell me you were feeling this way? Talk to me, my little raven."

But Y/N, unable to meet Lesso's gaze, remained silent. Tears welled up in their eyes, threatening to spill over, yet they held back, determined not to break down.

Recognizing the signs of emotional shutdown, Lesso quickly unbound Y/N's wrists. Scooping them up, she carried Y/N from the Doom Room to the privacy of Lady Lesso's chambers. The journey was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the faint sound of Y/N's uneven breaths.

Lesso, attempting to break through Y/N's emotional barricade, gently probed, "Tell me what's going on, my love. I want to understand."

Y/N, still wrapped tightly around Lesso's neck, remained unresponsive. They buried their face in the crook of Lesso's neck, seeking solace in the familiar scent. Lesso's grip tightened instinctively, a silent reassurance that she was there for Y/N.

As they entered the sanctuary of Lesso's private chambers, the air thick with unspoken emotions, the weight of Y/N's unshed tears lingered—a poignant reminder of the complexities that love brought, even within the walls of the School for Evil.

Lady Lesso gently placed Y/N on the bed in her private chambers. Y/N curled into a ball, back against the headboard, arms tightly wrapped around their legs. Lesso watched, her heart aching at the sight of her upset girlfriend.

As the room echoed with silence, Y/N began to feel overwhelmed. Profuse apologies spilled from their lips, a torrent of self-blame. "Nora, I'm so sorry. I should've just left it alone. I know you have such a busy job being the dean of the School for Evil, and I shouldn't have added to the stress of your responsibilities."

Y/N's ramblings continued, expressing regret for not understanding the demands of Lesso's role. "I should have known that you'd be busy when we started dating. I'm just a student, and it was crazy of me to think that a relationship like ours could work. I'll leave, and I won't bother you anymore," they said, moving to the end of the bed.

When Lesso heard that Y/N was contemplating leaving, an immediate and visceral "no" escaped her lips. The tone was harsher and louder than she intended, causing Y/N to flinch, their wide eyes locking onto Lesso's.

Realizing the impact of her words, Lesso softened her expression and tone. She approached the bed where Y/N sat, looking up at her with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Gently cupping Y/N's cheeks, Lesso spoke with a newfound gentleness, "No, my love. You're not leaving."

Lesso continued, "I'm not upset about the hoodie. I'm upset that you didn't come to me when you were feeling this way. We're a team, Y/N, and we face everything together."

Y/N, overwhelmed and spiraling into self-deprecation, started talking negatively about themselves. "I'm just a burden, Nora. I should have known better. I'm not worth the trouble," they mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

Lesso immediately shut down those negative thoughts, pulling Y/N into a warm embrace. Y/N's head rested against Lesso's chest as they wrapped their arms around her waist. Lesso gently rubbed Y/N's back, soothingly whispering, "You are not a burden, my little raven. You're worth everything to me."

She continued, "You're my girlfriend, and I will always be here for you, no matter what. I notice the little things, Y/N, the subtle changes in your behavior that you might not even be aware of."

Lesso leaned back slightly, looking into Y/N's eyes, and added, "Like how you play with your hair when you're nervous or the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about. You're not alone in this, my love. We face everything together, remember?"

Lesso tenderly wiped away Y/N's tears, pressing a gentle kiss to their forehead. "It's late, my love. Let's get ready for bed," she suggested. Y/N nodded in agreement, and as Lesso asked if they wanted to join her for a bath, Y/N readily agreed.

Magically lighting the fireplace, Lesso walked with Y/N to the bathroom. With a wave of her hand, she started the water, letting it fill the tub with soothing warmth. Once the bath was ready, Lesso added bath salts and oils, creating a fragrant and relaxing atmosphere. She gestured for Y/N to get in first and then joined them, wrapping her arms around Y/N and placing sweet kisses on the top of their head.

After a while, Lesso carefully stepped out of the tub, telling Y/N she was going to get some pajamas for both of them. Y/N nodded, watching Lesso leave the bathroom. When she returned, Lesso had clothes for Y/N and helped them out of the large clawfoot tub, wrapping them in a fluffy towel.

As Y/N stood there, Lesso helped them get dressed, exchanging tender kisses. Y/N noticed that Lesso had put them in one of her sweatshirts, and a content smile spread across their face

In the cozy bedroom, the flickering flames of the fireplace cast a warm glow, creating a serene ambiance. Lesso and Y/N settled into the plush king-size bed, the soft sheets embracing them. Y/N, seeking solace, nestled close to Lesso, their legs intertwining as they burrowed their head into Lesso's chest.

Lesso, with a tender smile, embraced Y/N, her arms creating a protective cocoon around her. "Shh, my little raven. You're safe here," she whispered, her fingers gently stroking Y/N's hair.

Y/N let out a content sigh, finding comfort in Lesso's presence. "I'm sorry, Nora," Y/N murmured, voice muffled against Lesso's chest.

Lesso tightened her embrace, "There's nothing to be sorry for, my love. We all have our moments. I'm just glad you're here with me now."

They lay there in silence for a while, the only sounds the crackling of the fireplace and the soft hum of the night. Lesso, with delicate movements, started drawing random patterns on Y/N's back with her nails, a soothing rhythm that slowly lulled Y/N into a state of tranquility.

As Y/N's breathing steadied, Lesso pressed a gentle kiss to the top of their head. "Sleep, my little raven. I'll be right here," Lesso whispered, her own eyes heavy with the weight of the day's events.

Y/N mumbled a drowsy reply, "Thank you, Nora," before surrendering to the embrace of sleep. In the stillness of the night, the dean of the School for Evil held her beloved close, offering comfort in the embrace of shared warmth and affection.

#lady lesso #leonora lesso #the school for good and evil #sge #lady lesso x reader #lady lesso x you #lady lesso imagine #leonora lesso x reader #leonora lesso x female reader #lady lesso x female readeer #leonora lesso imagine

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die-rosastrasse · 4 months

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I'm about to turn 25, your blog is so elegant, do you have any tips on growing out of the angsty early 20s into an elegant mid twenties?

Welcome and thank you! Right now I am 25 as well and believe me, the angst is still very much there. Sometimes there's so many fiery emotions brewing inside me, I feel like I'm going to burst and burn half the world with me. I'm still deeply moved by unfairness and bad intentions of people, the evil in the world, the greed, the violence and injustice of the society that we didn't have any impact on. I don't think elegance and maturity is about suddenly losing all of these feelings. I think maybe it's about how you rise above them, what you're doing about them and how you choose to present yourself to the world. There must be a balance between the angst and your inner peace. In your daily life, there must be a harmony between chaos and neatness. With time, you realize that there is a difference in worrying about things that you can change and those you can't. If it's the people around you that make you cross, you cut them off. If it's the path in life that makes you dissatisfied, you pick a different one. But if it's the sorry state of the world right now, what can you do? You build yourself a new, private world out of good things, inspiration, people you love, art, the things that make you happy, bliss, elegance. Piece by piece you can create a personal space, inside and outside, that reflects what's the best in you, that can stay beautiful despite the evil that is out there. This private world won't change the grand scheme of things, at least not all of it. But I believe that it's very much worth saving, and if everyone would try to be more kind, elegant, open and well-intentioned, the world would be a more beautiful place. So collect the exceptional things from your surroundings, make meaningful memories, be sensitive to beauty, prioritize your peace and help those around you. Go to therapy, learn to spend time alone and like it, make art, expand your language, make your daily life more fancy, smile to strangers, read a lot, treat others with the most impeccable manners, always be the one to lend a hand. People will view you as elegant not because of the anxiety in your heart, but due to the kindness that you give to the world. This message proves that you already rise above the negative feelings, because you have the need to get better. That, I think, is the quality of someone elegant and refined. I wish you all the best in becoming the greatest version of you 🤍

#ask #and a very happy birthday to you!

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submissive-humiliation-slut · 2 months

Text

The Queen’s Torment…

**CNC Fantasy Below for Edging and Fantasy Purposes Only - If this offends in any way, please stay away**

One of the benefits of torturous edging and denial is the insatiable hunger for sexual stimulation that inevitably follows. The constant craving also fires your synapses like you wouldn’t imagine.

Another of my many fantasies while hungrily edging…

As the Queen (of course I am the Queen) of the most coveted of the seven kingdoms, I am captured after our own ministers betray my beloved husband. I am shackled in iron chains and a heavy metal collar and paraded in front of the conqueror in my husband, the King’s throne room. My husband is stripped naked, gagged and tied to the central pillar. Two men stand by his side… one with a sword… the other with a bottle of oil…

The general drags me by the metal collar and kicks me behind my knees unceremoniously forcing me to drop to my knees. I am breathing fire and glare at the evil conqueror. I am then given a simple choice… Strip, kneel before the new king, and swear fealty by sucking his cock and swallowing his cum in front of the entire assembly OR I will be carried off to the dungeons to be r4ped by rabid soldiers while my husband is executed.

With tears of anger flowing down my cheeks, I bow my head and ask for the shackles to be removed. I strip naked and kneel slowly before the new king. I notice that the man with the oil is rubbing it into my husband’s cock making him erect.

I bow my head and submissively lower my eyes… opening my mouth wide. The new king wordlessly gets up from the throne, comes forward, with one finger lifts my head up and slowly drops a wad of his spit ino my open mouth. My face flushes with shame and hatred. He then every so slowly inserts his semi hard cock into my mouth holding it there as it grows and starts to make me shamelessly drool pools of saliva from my mouth.

He then mercilessly throat fucks me until he cums deep inside my throat making me gag and choke and splutter cum from my mouth and nose… At precisely at that moment, the man masturbating my husband makes sure he cums… ejaculating humiliatingly into the air.

I fall to the floor.

The new king clicks his fingers.

Four hands grab me by my hair and neck still naked and covered in spit and cum and take me away.

That is the last I see of my husband…

I am taken to a dungeon. It is hot and sticky and smelling of sweat and cum.

A potion of a glowing purple flower is brewing on the side. The men kick me in the stomach to wind me. As I fall to my knees, one man holds my head back by my hair hurting me while the other places his large calloused hand around my delicate neck to choke me. I am forced to open my mouth wide to gasp for air. A woman pours the potion down my throat, the men holding my mouth closed until I swallow it…

I feel tears involuntarily flow freely down my cheeks as I realise what they have done.

I have been drugged with a legendary psychedelic drug that heightens all sexual senses and pain receptors in the body while numbing all ability to fight back…

I am essentially a defenceless fuckdoll… who can barely resist any torment but feels each touch and stimulation a hundred times more strongly. Orgasms can be ripped from me at will and each slap will feel like my world is spinning uncontrollably…

Through teary hazy eyes, I see the King approach me.

“You thought you would get away with just a blowjob? You will now become the cumrag for my triumphant ministers and generals who will use you in the most filthy, perverse and degrading ways possible. You will feel everything and will be unable to stop anything… And in time you will become a worthless common whore who we will discard on the streets of the city… Watch…”

With that he inserts two fingers into my soaking cunt and I instantly cum…

I have lost all track of time. I can no longer describe how many ways I have been r4ped or by how many people… men, women… I don’t know. I only know incredible pain and unbearable orgasms that make me scream. I know the smell of cum and sweat. I know that I can no longer think or be… I am just a r4pe receptacle for evil, evil people…

*sigh….. fuckkkkkkkkk!

#rough kink #cnc fr33use #cnc rough #edging my mind away #filthy thoughts #cnc kidnapping #degrade and humiliate me #cnc k!nk #cnc overstim #cnc sub #free use cnc #rough cnc #roughfuck #used and abused #rap3 fantasy #rap3 me #rap3toy #rapekink

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cranetreegang · 7 months

Text

The Duel - Ominis x FemReader

Summary: Jealousy is an ugly feeling. And Ominis finds himself having to deal with it.

Warnings: Puffskein Dunkein Slander

Word Count: ~3,300 words

Hogwarts Legacy Master List

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Ominis heads down the stairs of Central Hall with an unmistakable smile on his face. It’s hard not to catch Ominis Gaunt without a warm smile playing on his lips nowadays, and people have taken notice. Most have wondered quietly as to what could be behind Ominis’ high spirits. Some whisper that it’s due to nefarious reasons - an evil ploy he’s plotting, or even a dark spell he’s mastered. Others watch him warily, unwilling to throw the Gaunt from his joy - lest they earn his brutal, cold wrath.

Ominis ignores the not-so-quiet whispers and the feeling of eyes on him as he passes, and continues towards his destination. He hears the soothing trickle of water landing into the fountain’s basin - signaling his arrival at their meeting spot - but his smile falters. A familiar, grating voice pierces his ears, causing his brows to pinch.

Duncan Hobhouse. A cowardly, spineless worm of a classmate.

Normally, this wouldn’t warrant Ominis to descend into such a foul mood. But, it’s who Duncan is currently speaking to which ignites the irateness brewing within Ominis.

Her soft giggles as Duncan speaks makes Ominis clench his wand tighter in his hand. Questions whirl in his mind at what could Hobhouse possibly be saying to warrant her laughs - her smile. Something cold twists his belly in a cruel way and he scowls at the sensation.

Ominis approaches her with a tense, but faux smile, and says, “Hello, darling.”

She falls silent mid-sentence, her eyes wide in surprise. Ominis doesn’t normally use such terms of endearments in front of others - wanting to keep their relationship more on the secretive side so as to not draw attention from his family with unbecoming rumors. She sees the subtle pinch in Ominis’ dark brows and the slight frown weighing the corners of his lips. She wonders what’s gotten Ominis so frustrated as she steps closer to him.

“There you are, Ominis. Duncan was just catching me up on the latest in Wizarding gossip,” she says.

Despite her close proximity to him, Ominis finds no easement from the coldness twisting his insides. Ominis turns his attention towards the other boy.

“Mhm, Hobhouse,” Ominis practically seethes in greeting.

“Gaunt,” Duncan replies warily then follows up with a slight cough as he looks towards her. “I-I was actually hoping to ask you something.”

“Oh? What is it?” she wonders.

Ominis bites his inner cheek, but it isn’t enough to restrain him from making his snide remark,

“Yes, what is it you require of her this time? Need her to retrieve another leaf for you? Or do you need something far more imposing to impress our peers? Perhaps a dragon’s scale would finally put all those nasty rumors to bed, Puffskein Dunkein.”

“Ominis,” she chastises under her breath.

Duncan squares his shoulders with a huff, “No, actually. I-I wanted to a-ask if you would-, if you would want to go to the library with me. And afterwards we-, we could go to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer.”

She stares at Duncan in a bit of shock. Duncan’s face is all but rosy red and he can’t even look her in the eyes as he awaits her response. Her mind fumbles with a way to gently turn Duncan down.

Meanwhile, Ominis’ lip curls in disgust. He all but nearly shatters his wand with how tightly he grips the handle. The coldness quickly transforms. It’s an ugly, hot feeling thrashing about in his chest and gnawing at his belly now.

Ominis bitterly chuckles, “Oh, how quaint.”

She nudges Ominis while giving Duncan a more sympathetic smile, “I appreciate the offer Duncan, but I’m afraid I have prior obligations today.”

Duncan nods with a frown, “Oh… okay. How about another time?”

Ominis’ heart pounds in his ears like an erratic drum. The audacity of Hobhouse, Ominis seethes to himself. Asking her on a date. Right in front of him!

Before she can reply, Ominis does first in a seething tone, “What makes you believe that you have any sort of chance to be with her, Dunkein? You’re obviously delusional to even consider the idea. Just because she’s nice to you - doesn’t mean she has any interests in the ilks of you. You’re nothing more than a passing thought. A thing to be pitied, and nothing more.”

Her mouth drops a bit at Ominis’ heated words and even more searing scowl.

“And what? She does with you, Gaunt?” Duncan hisses. “You aren’t a-a, thing to be pitied too?!”

She bites her lip as her cheeks flush, “Please, both of you, that’s enough.” She directs the last bit at Ominis.

Ominis steps forwards anyways, “And what if she does? It’s not like you’re capable of doing anything about it.”

“Ominis,” she whispers to him as she places a hand on his forearm, “What are you doing?”

Ominis turns his head towards her for a moment with a scowl plastered on his face. There’s a noticeable red flush tainting his pale cheeks and neck. She’s never seen him like this before.

Slipping her arm into Ominis’, she turns to Duncan with an apologetic smile.

“We really must be going. It was nice talking to you, Dunke-,” she coughs, “Duncan.”

Ominis doesn’t stop his smirk from showing as he begins to escort her away.

“You think you’re so much better than me, Gaunt?” Duncan shouts.

Ominis stops mid stride despite her trying to urge him to keep walking, turning his head back towards the outraged boy behind them.

“I don’t think such things. I know I am,” Ominis sneers.

Duncan’s lip curls and anger flashes in his dark eyes, “You’re not! In fact, I-I challenge you to a duel.”

Her mouth parts with an audible gasp. Ominis slips from her loose hold and turns towards Duncan.

“A duel?” Ominis cranes his head - his stormy gray eyes aflame with amusement. “And, pray tell, what are you hoping to accomplish in this ‘duel’?”

Duncan takes a heated step towards Ominis, “If I win, you leave her and I alone.”

Ominis laughs, “And when I win? Will you do the same?”

“Yes,” Duncan spits between clenched teeth.

“Very well,” Ominis stands taller with a smirk, “This afternoon. Three O'clock. Clocktower Courtyard. We’ll see if you gather enough courage to show.”

Ominis turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Duncan fuming and her flabbergasted. She gathers herself enough to chase after Ominis. They walk in silence until they arrive at the Undercroft.

“What in Merlin’s name was that about?” she exclaims as soon as they step foot into the secluded damp space.

Sebastian peeks up from his book and looks at the pair with an amused smile, “Are you two about to have a Lover’s Quarrel? Because I can leave.”

Ominis scoffs, “Please do.”

She rolls her eyes then turns back towards Ominis, “Why did you just accept a duel from Duncan Hobhouse? Of all people.”

Sebastian stops shoving his papers into his bag and raises his brow, “Wait, Ominis accepted a duel? Better yet, someone challenged Ominis to a duel?”

“Yes to all counts,” she sighs.

Ominis sneers, “Doubtful there will be an actual duel. He’ll probably lose his nerve and not even show his cowardly face.”

“What is going on with you? Has Duncan done something to deserve this horrid treatment from you?” she wonders.

Sebastian leans against the pillar while Ominis starts to pace between them.

“I have many qualms with that imbecile,” Ominis hisses. “He’s delusional. Cowardly. The nerve! To think he could ask you out for a butterbeer,” he practically spits out the last word with lethal venom.

Sebastian lets out an obnoxious laugh, “Oh, wow. I have never seen you so jealous before, Ominis. Must say, it’s not a good look on you.”

Ominis whips his head towards Sebastian, “I am most certainly not jealous. Certainly not of something as pathetic as Hobhouse.”

She crosses her arms, “Then why are you dueling him this afternoon?”

Ominis remains silent, his brows furrowing while he continues his pacing.

“So, Ominis and Hobhouse are dueling? What for?” Sebastian questions.

She blushes as she says, “For my attention, it seems. Which I’m none too pleased with. Why on earth would you think I would ever want to spend time alone with Duncan?”

Sebastian chuckles, “So, let me make sure I’m understanding this - Ominis and Puffskein Dunkein are both about to duel for your affection? Even though you and Ominis are already courting.”

Ominis’ ears turn a notable shade of pink and Sebastian laughs heartily at the sight.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Sebastian grins. “So, Hobhouse has no clue he’s in a lose-lose right now.”

“Enough, Sebastian,” Ominis snaps.

“No, I think there should be some stakes for you, Ominis. You’re the one who wanted to duel - it’s only fair,” Sebastian states.

“What’re you suggesting?” she asks.

Sebastian has a wide, devilish smirk as he says, “If Duncan beats you, Ominis, she has to go out on a date with him.”

“What?!” The couple both exclaim.

“You heard me,” Sebastian replies with a cocky smile, “You need some actual consequences to this duel, my friend. Otherwise, you won’t take it seriously.”

“And do I not get a say in this? Why am I the one that has to be punished with a date with Dunkein?” she frowns.

“Do you not believe I’ll win?” Ominis questions with pinched brows.

Her mouth parts in a bit of shock at his question then she sighs, “I’ve never seen you duel anyone before, sweetheart. Not even Sebastian.”

Ominis frowns, “So you are doubting me then.”

Her brows furrow, “That’s not what I’m saying.”

Her and Ominis seem to be locked in a staring match and Sebastian lets out a loud cough to break them from it.

“What time is this duel?” Sebastian asks.

“Three,” she looks at her pocket watch. “So, in twenty minutes.”

Sebastian claps his hands together then heads towards the exit, “Well, we better head that way.”

Her and Ominis spare longing glances at one another - his blueish-gray eyes seemingly searching for hers - before he follows after Sebastian. She watches them leave for a moment, wondering how she ended up upsetting Ominis, then she catches up to the boys.

The walk to the courtyard is silent, with Sebastian sparing glances at the silent couple behind him. Ominis appears troubled, but focused. His eyes, steely and his expression hardened. On the other hand, she looks far more turbulent. Worry, frustration, and anticipation are clearly written on her face.

Sebastian halts his stride long enough to wrap his arms around both of their shoulders, squeezing them close to his sides.

“Cheer up, you two,” Sebastian grins. “It’s not everyday Ominis decides to show us what for with his impeccable dueling abilities.”

Ominis snorts, “Seems my ‘impeccable’ abilities are in question.”

She frowns, “Ominis-,”

She’s rendered silent as they arrive at the courtyard. It’s alive with a crowd of students all eagerly chatting to one another.

“Looks like word got around, eh,” Sebastian says while he releases his hold on his two friends.

There’s hushed whispers and lively chattering between the decent sized gathering of spectators. Duncan is already in position, twirling his wand in his palm.

Ominis smirks for a moment when he senses Hobhouse’s presence, amused that the little coward actually decided to show. And with the sounds of several of their peers here, Ominis’ chest swells with eager confidence. It’s almost enough to drown out how his love doubts him. Almost.

Rolling his shoulders, he begins to slip off his school robe when he feels someone approach behind him. Her soft scent reaches his nose, followed by her gentle touch on his shoulders. A harsh temptation of shooing her away crosses his mind, but the thought is fleeting. He lets her help him out of his robe, feeling her warm fingers glide over his arms as she does. She folds his robe over her forearm then steps closer to him.

“I do believe in you, Ominis,” she whispers. “So, I won’t even bother telling you good luck. You don’t need it.”

Guilt coils in his chest for a moment, but he refuses to let it tighten around him. He spares her a warm smile instead, and slightly bows his head towards her. She squeezes his hand, conveying all that she can’t say. And he squeezes her hand back, affirming he feels the same.

Releasing her hand, Ominis strides towards his place opposite Duncan. She stands next to Sebastian on the sideline with their other eager classmates, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaits the duel to start. Ominis’ gaze is pointed to the ground, but his stance is tall and proud. He rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt to the middle of his forearms. A far more casual look than he normally sports, but it’s dashing all the same. She can’t deny how her breath hitches at the sight, earning herself an elbow to the ribs from Sebastian.

“You’re practically drooling,” he teases in a whisper.

“Am not,” she hisses back to him.

Ominis swishes his wand out in front of him with an arm behind his back. He looks regal, calm, confident - similar to a panther waiting to strike his prey. She grips onto his robe, pressing the garment against her chest to ease her growing nerves.

“Ready when you are, Dunkein,” Ominis says with a sneer.

Duncan’s lip curls at the nickname, “When I win, you can’t call me that again, Gaunt!”

“Whatever you say,” Ominis smirks with a low chuckle, waiting for Duncan’s first move. Duncan gathers himself then shouts,

“Levioso!”

Ominis doesn’t even bother blocking, and instead steps to the side with utter ease. His wand movement is like a whip, casting out his first spell with incredible speed, and Duncan barely blocks it. Ominis doesn’t give Duncan any time to respond though. She watches in awe at Ominis’ graceful movements as he duels. It’s like a dance. With his wand striking out with deadly and ruthless precision.

Ominis won’t deny how his blood sings and his heart races as he senses Hobhouse’s spells come towards him. The slight change in the air, the taste of electric metal, the sounds of magic as it flies towards him - it’s all rather invigorating. He also won’t deny that Duncan is a decent opponent, and he may actually pose a challenge in a few years. For now, Ominis relishes in their duel for what it is - an unmistakable message.

Having enough fun, blue sparks erupt from Ominis’ wand, blinding Duncan. Then Ominis calmly casts,

“Everte Statum.”

Duncan is flung back with such force, his body flips through the air and he crashes into the wall with a resounding thud. Duncan lays on the ground, dazed. The duel - finished. The crowd cheers and claps while Ominis has a pleased smirk on his face.

He hears her footsteps over the excited chatter and he turns towards her with his hand extended. Her hand slides into his, and he brings it up to place a soft kiss on the top. She blushes with a soft smile then whispers in his ear,

“You were magnificent, sweetheart.”

She presses a tender kiss on his cheek then steps away from him. Ominis smiles, his cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of red.

Duncan is helped to his feet by his friends and they make their way over to Ominis. Hearing their approach, Ominis turns his attention towards them.

“I must admit,” Ominis says with a neutral expression, “I’m impressed you even bothered to show up. So, well done.”

Duncan scoffs, “Save it, Gaunt.”

Duncan’s friends help him out of the courtyard while Ominis turns back to her. The guilt from earlier tightens around his chest and he clears his throat.

“I wouldn’t mind taking you to dinner, love. As a means of apology.”

She hands him back his robe with a sigh, “Well, you did win - seems only fair you get your prize.”

Ominis’ brows furrow, “That’s not why-,” he cuts himself off with a frown, his gaze low. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

She wraps her arm with his, “Very well.”

Sebastian comes up to them before they can depart.

“Took your sweet time there, Ominis,” Sebastian pats Ominis on the shoulder with a grin.

Ominis smirks, “I’d hate to leave the crowd disappointed without a spectacle.”

“You were toying with him?” she questions.

“Taking my time,” Ominis corrects.

Sebastian nods while backtracking away from them, “Whatever you want to call it, it’s safe to say Dunkein won’t be trying anything with your girl anytime soon.”

Ominis holds her arm closer to him with a slight scowl, making Sebastian laugh as he turns and leaves. Ominis leads her from the courtyard and towards the rickety old wooden long bridge. Despite the blowing wind through the rafters, it’s rather peaceful out.

He turns to her, grabbing both of her hands, and says, “I want to apologize for my behavior.”

“Please do,” she smirks while squeezing his hands. “I’ve never seen you act that way before.”

“I know,” he sighs with a tight frown. “I like to think I’m more in control of my more… unbecoming emotions.” He falls silent, his brows pinching while he rubs his thumbs over the tops of her hands. “Hearing him speak to you - asking you to dinner - it evoked a rather nasty feeling within me. It made me angry that he couldn’t see how much love I have for you, or that he did and he was doing it in spite of it. Either way, I did not like Hobhouse asking to spend time with you right in front of me.”

She looks down at their joined hands then back up to his distraught face.

She lets out a soft sigh, “You know I have no interest in spending time with Hobhouse, right? He’s merely a friend. And I use the term ‘friend’ very generously.”

“It may not be Hobhouse next time,” Ominis replies quickly. “It might be some other boy who fancies you. Someone… better.”

Ominis’ face falls and a grimace drags down his handsome features. She rubs her thumbs along the tops of his hands with a worried frown.

“Do you believe my love for you is so fickle?” she asks in a quiet voice.

He shakes his head earnestly, “No. That’s not at all what I think.” He falls silent once more before finally whispering, “But, it doesn’t mean that I don’t wonder if I’m good enough for you.”

She cups his cheek with a soft smile, “Ominis Gaunt - you are more than good enough for me. Don’t ever think otherwise. A million boys could walk up to me with their interests in courtship, but I would pay them no mind unless it was you. I love you, Ominis.”

A warm smile overtakes him while he presses her hand closer to him - his eyes fluttering shut.

“To hear you say that,” he chuckles, “makes this whole afternoon feel all the more foolish. I never should’ve let my emotions get the better of me. I deeply apologize, and I won’t let it happen again.”

She smiles, “Good. Although, you were quite amazing to watch. I wouldn’t mind dueling you sometime.” She reaches up and places a soft kiss on his lips, “But, for now, you have a romantic dinner to plan.”

She giggles as she lets him go and heads back towards the castle. He listens to her walking away with a blushing smile and he wonders to himself - how did he get so lucky?

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

AN: sorry i haven't been posting much. im preganant and have been dealing with that and *looks at my hours on steam for Baldur's Gate 3* uhhh yeah let's not talk about that.

ANYWAYS, thought it would be fun to do a story with Ominis being a god at dueling. and also duncan slander hehe. i really love writing sebastian and mc and ominis banter. like they just goofball besties and i love it.

I may have let some Astarion leak all over Ominis (especially when he starts roasting Duncan) so that's my b.

hope to have more out soon! feedback always appreciated <3

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heatherhpogson · 1 month

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David Tennant is nominated for a BAFTA! I'm so happy to hear that! ☺️ Congrats to my favorite Demon!

I'm still working on Aziraphale, and I'm at a point where I feel I'm excited to share the results. It's not finished yet, but we're on the home stretch peeps! Eeee!

Art Journey Today...

Morning writing sprints with Mister Sheen staring at me… The pressure is on to finish him, but first, writing for my passion project comes first. Priorities!

After some color blocking on the costume, and lots of blending... so much blending by trial and error, I started to feel more confident. It was time for story time on Twitter... ahem. -cough!- -cough!-

"I need a break and a walk. My butt is falling asleep! 😆 That reminds me, my kiddo said to me this morning, as I was lying next to her in bed, "Boobs look like a bums." The things kids say. I can't get it out of my head now! 🤣 Anyway, little by little, I get closer to finish." <--- I ran out of characters...

Also, I never said that I was a sane artist!

I was really proud of the details coming to life. The buttons in particular were starting to take shape. I could feel an evil laugh start to brew inside me at this point.

I did some adjustments to the face. It looks more and more like Mr. Sheen! I'm really proud of the work I did today. Even if I don't finish, I'm at a point in my art journey where I enjoy the work. Like Dr. Frankenstein, I do a lot of evil laughing as my portraits come to life.

Anywho, I've been absolutely loving this journey, this week. I might only get Aziraphale done, but for the sake of my mental health, I've been taking it slower. When you work alone, it's very easy to get inside your own head. This week, I've been taking advantage of Twitch Productivity Streamers. Working in sprints definitely helps, and chatting with people who are in the same creative mindset as you is very encouraging.

I'm still going to do all of Crowley's and Aziraphale's looks, but it just means, I'm going to have to extend my deadline. Every month I do a different episode, but episode 3 turned out to be so much more work than I anticipated. Not only that, I have started to spend more time on my portraits. It's all a part of learning. I guess, I'm evolving, and that, in my opinion, is good.

Never be afraid of evolving. Life is a journey to learn about oneself.

#good omens #good omens fanart #digital art #52 weeks of fanart #aziraphale #work in progress #congratulations David Tennant on your nomination #baftas #omg #eccentric artist at work

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siremasterlawrence · 6 months

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The Hypno-Tech’s Spell Part 1

Part 1

The passionate and very surreal power of Hypno-techno Wizard using his magic wand of his to cause a storm of unknown and true legendary power.Captain America and Bucky Barnes stares up and down the pathway of the upper way chambers of the building and overlooks the entire scene.

Something is off though as he takes a nose dive from the roof top descending into a craze of the crowd shouting at the top of their lungs.He tucks his feet into a cannon ball form to the ground with a superhero landing into a backflip and he tumbles down the road then lands happily.

He removes his shield as the fiery level of a storm brewing in the fog begins to spiral into the air the thunder crackles and lightening is striking. The flags shield is harshly thrown hard into the nearest wall hitting it ricocheting back and forth as Captain America lands catches it.

The man walks up to him without even half of a second like thought with the wave of his wand he points at him the flow of a cloud of smoke. The air flows around like a vent covering up the surrounding area, Captain America is a legendary hero with his shield he looks to attack.

The smoke lifts spinning into a curling ball like position it enters his nose leaving him hazed, intoxicating, and he falls backwards to the ground. His eyes roll back into the socket pure white as the pupils become clear before his eye lashes flip up and the lids close immediately following through.

The smirk pummels Captain Americas brain encircling him the cloudy smoke completely consumes him as his body lays limp and helpless. Captain wakes up in the middle of the haze of his mind he is at lost unaware of what is going around fans he is unsure of how he gets out.

Meanwhile! Outside of his mind the younger man knelt next to him placing his hand onto Steve’s face rubbing it slowly Steve’s mouth spread. A smile spreading fully with his tongue is red wagging from his mount spittle trickling all that is onto his chin and he can’t find any moment to fight back.

The man’s hand traces down to his lower patch of the pants playing with his cock without entering his pants Steve moans, swoons, and his cock grow stiff. Erstwhile! Inside of his head the man stood tall above Steve’s kneel position cupping his chin the fog grows eradicating his nerves as he surrenders.

“Captain…Captain…Captain America “

“Who is this? Are you that Tech Wizard”

“Does it matter? You are mine”

“Hell no! I am in charge”

“Is that what you think? You are so cocky”

“I am in awe of the nerve of you”

“Ever the boyscout”

“You seem to have issue with that “

“Oh Captain! You are so weak now”

“Uuuuhhhh! No…dare you “

“You can’t even think straight”

“Blastard”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“You really are the star spangled man”

“Get off of me”

“Why should I do as you ask?”

“You are evil”

“I am everything and everyone “

“I can see that “

“Yes Master”

“It feels so good to embrace it”

“I love you Steve “

“I love you too Master”

“How can I please you ?”

“Rise to your feet”

“Kiss me “

“I mean like this is be end all”

“Wrap your arms on my waist”

“Yank me forward “

“Work for it “

“Oh Master”

“My God”

“I crave you “

“Hey Buck! Are you looking for me?”

“Steve is that you?”

“Of course “

“Who is this?”

“My Master”

“You will join us”

“Fuck no”

“Wake up Steve!”

“You have one choice Buck”

“Excuse me!”

“No other options”

“I am your lord and master”

“Accept me!”

“Be his Bucky”

“He is your Master”

“Nnnnooooo!”

“Will do this the hard way “

“You want to fight Steve.”

“Pin him down “

“Yes Master”

“Let me go”

“Steve”

“Watch my wand”

“Release….”

“Hahaha”

“Zip it”

“Good boi!”

“Steve”

“Yes Master”

“Remove his clothes “

“With pleasure”

“Mmmmmm”

“Fuck Sire”

“This body is firm”

“Buck you are adjusting to my reality “

“Yyyyyeeeessss!”

“You love me”

“You crave me”

“You serve me”

“You are my soldier “

“My protector “

“My everything”

“Yes Master”

“Kneel and swear your allegiance’s”

“I give you my mind body and heart and soul “

“I live for you “

“Accept my service “

“Excellent! Follow me to the map and let me show you my plan. The Winter Soldier activated for me to serve me and complete the mission.”

Part 2

Steve Rogers is on the hunt tightly wound up in a jet flying above Gotham City provided by himself as he stoled it from Tony Starks airbase. He slips the door to the side packing his jet pack on before taking a leap off of the jets bow and descending down head first as he does a somersault.

He lands with a perfect ten onto the roof in a super hero fashion because he wants to truly impress me with his moves but all I care about is the mission He rolls to the glass ceiling smashing all of the glass as it shatters on the glass doing a super landing into Wayne Tech’s roof top tier lab.

The laboratory is spectacularly clean, shiny and everything I could expect from the video feed I implanted in his mask but I am alerted to sound erupting as he opens the door. He throws his shield head on hitting on the wall it takes a dive smashing a shadowy like figure on the head as he goes down into the wall.

It is Doctor Langstrom the Man Bat clearly he is cured of the curse but now he works for me triggering the alarm as I can see a figure fly throw the sky. The Batman descends from the sky with his cape flying in the air and with one punch he hits him knocking him to the floor he sets my trap.

The whirlwind of drama is unleashing onto him the walls begin to break with steel like trap doors dropping down to the floor of the room. Batman is now entrapped forever to my will as Steve and Bucky step into the light of it all.

The room is bold glowing with bright white lights covering the space blocking and he is totally blinded by his own fall to submission at my feet. He follow them stopping in the center of the room my power is felt here and throughout because simply my power is inescapable.

Erstwhile! In the building across the street Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin watch as they are ready to attack them head on right before they can move a loud tick goes off once more and the ticking stops as the building blows up in a sea of fire they are stunned The Batman is dead they rage with anger.

Walking through the fire all three of us look so amazing blazing a trail as they use the batarangs to fly away in the sky landing on to the grounds of the city they come face to face with me ready to fight but their extreme and dangerous weapons are a go to beat the will our of me.

I giggle a bit holding hand outward telling them to stop holding them in place my magic device is now in control of all three of them my wand pops in my hand with my two soldiers attacking them the battlis brutal but it needs to be finished with the operation running on through the very early morning.

“Excuse me!”

“How on earth did you get here?”

“Not for you too worry about it”

“Look at me and face me”

“You are my property “

“Address me as Master Lawrence “

“Yes Master Lawrence “

“Will you serve me willingly?”

“A touch of my wand to your temple and you will submit.”

“I am at your mercy “

“Your God”

“Completely command me”

“Subdue your friends “

“Lovely”

“Before you do”

“Yes Master”

“Kiss me”

“Wrap your hands on me”

“Good boi”

“My god”

“I love you “

“Red Hood”

“Robin”

“Catch”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Woah”

“Aaaahhhh”

The end

#Hypno-tech Wizard #chris evans #evil captain america #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #brenton thwaites #nightwing #red hood #Robin #curran walters

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vintagegeekculture · 1 year

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Yes, Scientology is an evil cult that ruins people’s lives, yes, he spent a lifetime as a con-man and pathological liar, but I feel this should be said: L. Ron Hubbard was not just a good writer, but a great writer, even in the context of the Golden Age, which had no shortage of them, and he was a popular one as well, regularly topping reader polls in Unknown and Astounding.

His contemporaries, like Asimov and L. Sprague de Camp, were in awe of him (at least until things started to get weird with Dianetics). He was the first major writer of scifi to prioritize characterization over a science fiction idea, to write stories that dealt with neurosis and everyman protagonists over adventure stories where an engineer solves a problem, and because of that, his 1930s-40s work has aged so much better than nearly everyone else from that time.

His best work, in my opinion, was not his scifi but his fantasy/horror, published mainly in John W. Campbell’s Unknown, a magazine he created for horror and fantasy (the two were, really, one genre until the 1960s, like twins conjoined at birth, there was scifi and then there was everything else, witch’s brews and dragons). They include Slaves of Sleep, which starts with a millionaire in modern times who was cursed by an Ifrit inside an artifact he finds, so that every time he goes to sleep, he wakes up in an Arabian Nights realm ruled by an evil genie queen, and whenever he wakes up, he vanishes from that world back into ours, and it’s unclear which is the dream and which is reality. This was a major theme of Heinlein’s work, the blurring between reality and fantasy in a story to the point where it was unclear which is which. He wrote two other fantasy novels with a similar theme: Typewriter in the Sky, which starts as a traditional pirate adventure story, but then there is a sound of a typewriter clacking in the sky, and then everything in the story is rearranged.

The most fascinating work of Hubbard’s fantasy/horror, and the one with the best insight into his psyche, is Fear, a psychological thriller where a man is visited by demons and ghouls after mocking black magic, and it’s not clear if he’s hallucinating them or if he is going insane, and both possibilities are equally horrifying. There’s no Soldier of the Mist (or Gene Wolfe in general) without Fear. The reason this story is the most fascinating insight into Hubbard as a man is because I actually suspect that L. Ron Hubbard, who wrote about the blurring between fantasy and reality, and had a tendency to write nervous, unheroic, nebbish main characters, may not have been a complete scammer. I think he was the kind of scammer that believed his own bullshit and got high on his own supply, a pusher and user simultaneously. This reminds me of stories Scientology insiders tell where he would have auditing session after auditing session when he felt tormented, something it’s hard to imagine a completely cynical fraudster would do.

#l. ron hubbard #pulp scifi #30s scifi #golden age #john w. campbell

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derrygirlstrash · 6 months

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Kissing 101, Ch. 4 (Preview)

—

Life be life am I right? … Anyway I’m editing now, so take a preview to get excited for the whole thing. Good news is this chapter, while difficult, is my favorite so far I think, or at least has my favorite scene so far. So, here’s part of that scene!

——————

“I won’t say anything. Your secret is safe with me Logan Reese.” Quinn promised, and even though he now realized she should hold his secret childhood shame over his head, the same way he realized he had done when he taunted her with that insulting nickname when she only offered to help him… he also knew she wouldn’t.

…At least, she wouldn’t hold it over his head to the others. She might hold it over him when they were alone.

He didn’t mind that as much, somehow.

“You’ll have fun with this yourself though, I bet.” Logan said with a low chuckle at the end of his sentence. He was responding more to himself than to her, though that didn’t stop his grin when her eyes gleamed brighter behind those glasses of hers at his words.

She tilted her head a bit and then for some reason she held her hand out in the space between their bodies and he raised an eyebrow at her which caused her to answer the unspoken question by saying, “I’ll at least wait until we’re out of harm's way before I start having fun with you being such a scaredy-cat. Here, pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear, seriously?” He asked her with a voice that probably didn’t match the understanding they just reached. His eyes lingered on her pinky as she held it up waiting for his pinky to join.

“Do you want me to keep my promise or not?”

Hey, why not? Stranger things have happened. Including, like, this whole night. So instead of answering back with words he just lifted his hand up and locked his pinky with hers.

Logan couldn’t explain what happened at that moment as they pinky swore at all not even if his life depended on him explaining this to Charles Galloway of all people. Which tonight, it might’ve, given everything crazy happening to them.

One moment his pinky curled around hers and while their hands connected in the middle he let his eyes begin to trace the corners of her lips as they crawled upward into a smile. When she smiled at him, his stomach started to ache again as it had since they left Red Stone Gulch. Except the anxiety was replaced with… something he had no idea how to explain.

Being caught inside a freak storm in the middle of nowhere had nothing on being caught inside the freak storm brewing inside him caused by her smile.

In the moment after he felt his stomach twist with this unfamiliar sensation, Logan felt his pinky tighten around hers just a bit and with a sudden impulsive yank he was able to tilt her close enough for his lips to meet hers halfway.

He felt Quinn take a sharp inhale of breath more than he heard it as he pressed his lips against hers. They were close enough that he could feel the way it made her startle. His kiss was a shock to her that was for sure. It shocked him just as much and he was the one who had given it to her.

Before he could even think of moving away and finding a way to explain what he was doing - to her, if not himself - she began to respond to his kiss with a kiss of her own. Quinn let out a soft noise against his mouth with a warm, shaky exhale and at the same time she let out the held breath her pinky curved tighter around his which left him breathless back.

She knew how to get back at him, that was for sure. In more ways than one. He wondered for a second if this whole kissing thing with her was her getting back at him, because if it was, she wasn’t just smart she was a damned evil genius.

He wasn’t able to think about it for long though.

He wasn’t able to think about anything right now.

If he had thought about anything in the first place, he wouldn’t have kissed Quinn for no other reason than to kiss her.

If he was thinking anything (which there was no way he could do now, not after the way he felt her lean an inch closer and not with his other hand clenching the grass underneath them to stop himself from doing anything risky…) he might have thought about why he had to kiss Quinn, or why she hadn’t ended the kiss, or why her not ending the kiss mattered to him.

So it was lucky he couldn’t think.

At least not until they heard Lola loudly wailing from where they had left her behind.

“Quinn! C’mon you can’t just leave me alone! If you have to ditch one of us, make it Logan!”

Quinn quickly ending the kiss and whipping her head over her shoulder to make sure Lola wasn’t coming to get them was a good way to wake up from whatever… that just was.

#zoey 101 #quinn pensky #logan reese #quinn x logan #quogan

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lunar-writes-things · 1 year

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Rebel the Crown!

Pairing: Soup Group x Reader, ImpulseSV x Reader, Geminitay x reader, Pearlescent Moon x reader

Summary: In which a heist ends up with you talking about how you feel

Genre: Fluff

Extra notes: I might've added a sad bit because I wanted this to be an okay-ish length but this was based off of something I saw from @stitchthesewords!!! I'll reblog immediately after!! Enjoy!

Content warnings (If any): none

WC: 1.4k

”My loves,” You whine out to your partners who are hidden somewhere in your home

Three heads popped out from behind the corner of your kitchen at your call and the sweetest little redhead asked

“Yes our darling?” ink was smudged on Gem’s button nose and Pearl’s hair was ruffled and messed up while Impulse’s man-bun was let down “What's going on?”

“I was bored, but seeing as how all of you are kinda off because of your planning I was thinking we all clean up and take a nap?” You said before adding on “or I can help and we can terrorize the king all together?”

Sinister grins spread across their faces and the three picked you up and moved you to their 'secret' underground location where they have their plans

"So," You hummed as they set you down gently "Where do I start?"

That evening, you were placed in front of the crastle doors, a distraction while your partners were hiding to quickly fly in and steal the crown and then some. You knocked, flinching when you heard the dull echo from inside the castle. The door opened with a creek and Bdubs stood before you a proud grin on his face.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed "Welcome! What can I, the royal right hand, do for you?"

"Oh!" You smiled gently, before rummaging around your inventory satchel to pull a bag of cookies and peppermint tea bags "I just wanted to come by for tea and cookies! Would that be okay?"

"That's perfectly fine!" Bdubs said before whispering "I think he's been too stressed. He's so paranoid about the soup group trying to steal from him and I know you're their partner but we can trust you right?"

"Of course Bdubs," You said with a soft smile, trying not to let the evil smirk spread across your face

They have no idea

"Perfect! Come in, come in, I'll introduce you to the King." The man covered in moss said and allowed you to walk through the door and closed it after you before he led you to the king's throne room where you see your partners glued against the window high above

Meanwhile, in front of you, A giant nearly 8-foot Werewolf hybrid sat in front of you, half alseep on the throne he was manspreading on.

"My king!" Bdubs exclaimed, waking up Ren with a large jolt "You have a visitor. I present, Y/n of hermitcraft."

"Good evening My king," You gave a deep bow, figuring you have to play the part "I have come with a treat, of delights of tea bags of my own brew and warm Pastries."

Ren's eyes widened and he looked to Bdubs who nodded before he turned to look back at you and said "I would... enjoy that. Please, follow me. The throne room is no place for tea."

You waited til he got up and went ahead to follow the wolf hybrid, winking to your partners who gave you a thumbs up

Bdubs boiled water as you set up cups and Pastries, making conversation with the King and his right hand in the crastles kitchen. You sprinkled to be what looked like sugar on the pastries and in two the teacups and put them in the tea bags right as Bdubs turned around with boiling water. You grabbed the two tea cups with the 'sugar' and place them in front of Ren and Bdubs who just sat down.

"Please, Enjoy," You said and placed the plate of cookies and other baked goods in front of them

"Why aren't you enjoying this?" Ren asked as you sat down "Without your partners I mean?"

"They haven't been home lately," You explained softly and poured a spoonful of honey into your own tea "And while I love and support them in whatever endeavors they do, I miss them quite a lot."

Your words were not a lie. Even doing this you were separated from your partners and it made your heart ache. You missed them dearly, but you never wanted to hold them back so you made no sound. You took a slow sip of your tea and looked at the two with sad eyes, And Bdubs put a gentle hand on your forearm, and Ren took a sip of his drink... finally.

looks like the two were waiting to see if you would drink it in case it was poison.

So they can be smart.

not smart enough though.

Bdubs took a sip after and you talked to them for nearly five minutes until the 'sugar' finally worked.

Nothing like tea and crushed-up sleeping pills to make people sleep.

You soon rushed out of the room after leaving a note and helped her partners pack up some of the diamonds and get out of there before the sleeping pills wore off.

And boy, You were glad they did that when they did because Ren woke up FURIOUS.

Giggles echoed through the night as the three made their way back to their secret base that The soup group made and stashed the diamonds away in a secret place. You joined your partners in the extra extra large shower for all of them and got dressed to sleep in the hideout. All of you lay on the bed you commissioned scar for at the beginning of the season and curled up into each other. It was calm but there was an anxiety in the air.

"Y/n?" Gem's voice was soft and insecure from the end and being the smallest spoon

"Yes Darling?" You whispered and subtly tightened your arm around her waist

"Do we make you feel lonely? Like-" Pearl asked but started to stuble over her words

"I think what our girls are trying to ask if we make you feel left out when we go after Ren." Impulsed filled in the blanks

You were quiet for a bit. Should you tell them the truth? Should you hide it from them?

"...Sometimes." You admitted "But I could never ask you guys to stop. You are doing a great thing. It's just- It just gets lonely when you guys aren't here. The bed is so... cold when you three aren't there and when I wake up you guys are asleep or already gone again. Don't get me wrong, I don't need to be by your sides 24/7 but-"

You were cut off by Gem turing around and giving you a big kiss to your lips

"You don't need to explain anything," Impulse said and wrapped his arms around you, pearl, and attempted to hug gem as well from the very back of the line up, "We're so sorry to make you feel even the slightest bit left out."

"It's-" You tried but was stopped

"It's not fine, Y/n." Gem said softly "Please tell us when you begin feeling like this. We love you so much and we want to give you the world. You shouldn't have to feel alone because we want to start a coup."

"I love you guys," You whispered "I love you all so much."

"We love you too our queen," They all chimed at the same time and held onto you tight

"And we will always be here," Impulse whispered "We are in your dream, in your life, and most importantly, in your heart."

"You guys are my dream." You yawned

#luna has written #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft smp #hermitcraft #hermitcraft impulse #hermitcraft gem #hermitcraft pearl #impulse x reader #impulsesv #geminitay #geminitay x reader #gem x reader #impulsesv x reader #pearlescentmoon #pearlescentmoon x reader #c!impulseSV #c!geminitay #c!pearlescentmoon #c!soup group

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backtothefanfiction · 8 months

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The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 3: There's No Place Like Home

Summary: Unsure where else to go, Peter takes Angel back to the only other home he's ever known.

Warnings: 18+ Only, mature content, eventual smut, plenty of feels and patching up wounds

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: SURPRISE! Okay so I have been writing up a storm and realised if I only release these once a week it’ll be months between me finishing the story and you guys getting to read it, so I am gonna do drops on Wednesdays as well as the originally planned Fridays. (Also I’m an Aries who likes to be praised and whenever you guys give me good feedback it’s like a drug and I want more). For those asking at the end of part 2 where was Miguel, Miguel had already gone home, theres about half hour to 40 min time difference to Peter telling him to go home and shoot up happening. Anyway that being said, there’s nothing like going home to lick your wounds. Enjoy…

THREE

When they pulled up outside a high rise in the city 30 minutes later, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body was finally wearing off. The dull pain in her shoulder was coming back full force; and as she sat waiting in the passenger seat, her hand bracing the injured shoulder protectively, she closed her eyes and counted her breaths and tried to work out where it had all gone wrong.

Her husband, still sitting in the driver's seat also taking his time to process the events that had just happened, lowered his head to the steering wheel. She could feel his anger brewing, that scary calm energy he was known for rolling off of him in waves. He suddenly sat back, his head slamming back against the headrest as his hand gripped the steering wheel forcefully, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him. His hands quickly flew into his hair, he was coming apart at the seams. She wondered if for a moment he had forgotten she was there.

She was about to say something when he was suddenly getting out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him. She watched out the front window as his hand tugged at his hair again before he ran it down the length of his face in an attempt to compose himself as he began to make his way to the passenger door.

The door opened with a low click as he held it open for her. She quickly unbuckled herself before sliding out of the car. She watched carefully as he stood like a sentry beside her, the only thing indicating to him being a living human, the heavy rise and fall of his breaths, the air chuffing powerfully from his nose as he attempted to calm himself down. She raised her hand again to her shoulder as she stepped forward onto the sidewalk as he closed the door behind them.

She watched over her shoulder silently as he ushered her forward with his hand splayed protectively across her back, keys clutched in his fingers as he guided her to the front door.

Neither of them said anything until they got to the elevator, the large metal doors sliding closed, encasing only the two of them safely inside.

“Does it hurt?” he finally said, his body turning towards her as his hands reached out to manoeuvre her gently, turning her to face him.

She wanted to respond with something sarcastic, but looking up into his eyes, she couldn’t seem to find her voice. His thumb suddenly added a little bit of pressure below the wound as he checked it over and she sneered, recoiling from him protectively.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he quickly said, holding his hands up in surrender. He watched her closely, waiting for her breathing to steady again, her body leaning back towards him, trusting him. “It might need a couple stitches.” he said as he moved the damaged fabric of her top to look at it better. She grunted again as the pressure of his fingers made the wound smart once more, but she didn’t pull away.

They felt the elevator begin to slow beneath their feet, coming to a stop and pausing before the bell went off, signalling its arrival.

He gently ushered her down the hall but she already knew where they were and which door to go to. She paused outside the door as she watched him reach behind the frame of one of the pictures on the wall. She shuffled herself to the side as she let him squeeze past her to put the key he had retrieved into the lock, turning and pushing the door open, ushering her in first with an outstretched hand as he moved to put the key back in its hiding place.

“Peter?” a voice called out through the apartment.

“Yeah, May.” he called out as they both stepped through the door.

Peter’s Aunt May tentatively came into view at the end of the hallway at the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor before they hit the hallway runner. She froze in silence as she took in the image of not just Peter, but Angel. The sudden change in May’s demeanour from warm and friendly to cold and protective made the younger woman still in the middle of the hall.

“Don’t May.” Peter warned her as he gently stepped around his frozen estranged wife, moving forward down the hall, a protective arm being placed around his Aunt’s shoulder as he turned her away and towards the living room, trying to explain everything before she made any assumptions.

Angel slowly began to follow them, coming to a stop in the doorway, her hand still raised to cover her shoulder. She stood awkwardly against the doorframe, careful not to bleed on anything as she watched Peter sit May down on the sofa, the tall brunette taking a perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, his hands gently resting on her knees.

“It’s a really long and complicated story-”

“But for how long, Peter?” May tried to argue in a hushed voice.

“I know, I know.” he quickly cut her off. “Look I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but we can’t go back to the house and I didn’t know where else to go.” He attempted to explain as Angel began glancing around the apartment. Her eyes fell on picture frames, throw pillows, the layout of the kitchen to her right, nothing had changed in this place at all. She slowly found herself stepping forward to a bookcase, observing the pictures that sat on the edges of some of the shelves. Okay, maybe some things had changed, she noted as she noticed the frame that used to hold her and Peter’s wedding photo had been removed, replaced with an old picture of Peter with his Uncle Ben from when he was a child. As she began to look behind it, she noticed another frame laying face down on top of the books. Her fingers reached for it. She carefully pulled it out, looking at the memory fondly. They hadn’t had a big wedding, after all she was trying to hide their union from her Dad. She gazed longingly at the picture of her and Peter outside the courthouse. They’d asked a passerby to quickly take the picture on an old digital camera May had brought with her. You could just see the corner of her shoulder in the foreground as she threw confetti at the happy couple.

Her eyes stung as tears prickled the corners of her lashes and she quickly put the photo back.

“I’m gonna go find a first aid kit.” She suddenly announced across the room to Peter, still mid conversation with May.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned his head to say to her before she removed herself from the room, heading down the hallway to where she knew the bathroom was.

She closed the door behind her, looking at herself in the harsh fluorescent lighting. She wiped away at the lingering tear at the corner of her eye hastily before her gaze dropped down to her shoulder in her mirrored reflection. She winced as she examined it in the mirror, turning her body towards the light. She sighed, her hands bracing themselves upon the basin as she closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself.

She kept one hand against the cold porcelain as her other hand reached to slip off her heels, her height dipping in the mirror as she dropped one foot and then the other onto the worn bath mat. She ran her hands over her face, pushing her hair back as she took one more tired look in the mirror before bending down to root in the under sink cupboard for the first aid box she knew was kept there.

She balanced it on the side of the sink, her fingers opening the zip and flipping the lid open. She sighed, rooting around in the kit, searching for the bits she would need and placing them on the top for easy access. She winced in pain as she slowly pried off her shirt, carefully slipping it off of her injured arm, the blood already beginning to dry sticking to her skin and she cringed and sneered as the fabric tore itself from her flesh. She reached into a drawer for a fresh washcloth, turning on the tap and running it under the faucet. She was just bringing it to her skin, wiping away at the drying blood when the door opened, Peter letting himself in.

He froze at the sight of her standing in the middle of the bathroom in her high waisted trousers and black lace bra. When she just stood staring at his reflection in the mirror he quickly checked himself, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the blood that was beginning to rush between his legs.

“Here let me do that.” He said, stepping forward and taking the damp washcloth from her.

She sat herself on the side of the bathtub as he rinsed the blood that was already on the cloth off, ringing it out.

“I don’t think May likes me much anymore.” she spoke timidly as Peter turned towards her and began dabbing at her skin. She hissed as he shifted his hand and dabbed higher, closer to the wound and he quickly took his hand away, fingers frozen in midair.

“Sorry,” he murmured. She quickly settled again and he moved the wash cloth over her skin even gentler. “She’s just protective of me, that’s all. Still sees me as that little boy scraping his knees and elbows everytime I fell off my skateboard. Cutting the crusts off my sandwiches…” his voice trailed off softly.

“MMM” she groaned again between closed lips as his fingers began to dab at the broken skin, her head turning away from him, eyes closing to suppress the tears that threatened them.

“I know, I know.” He tried to soothe her. “Yeah, it’s definitely gonna need some stitches.” He says assessing the wound closer.

He stood up from where he had been crouching beside her, hands dexterously retrieving the bits he would need from the kit and placing them on the side of the sink closest to them. He then washed his hands, carefully drying them on the towel beside him. They were both silent as his fingers opened the suture packet, pulling out the fresh needle and threading it. She watched his hands attentively, willing herself to stay calm despite the impending pain she knew she’d have to endure.

“You’re not gonna like this.” He said as he crouched down beside her, tearing open a packet of alcohol wipes. He swiped a wipe carefully over her shoulder. She instantly screwed up her face sneering at the sting, her head turning away from him again as she forcefully gripped the edge of the bathtub, knuckles turning white.

“Fuck. Peter.” she hissed between her teeth.

“I know, you’re doing so well baby.” The pet name falls from his lips so naturally to try and soothe the sting they both feel. His chest aches to see her in pain, he wishes he could just kiss it and make it better, but he knew he was doing the next best thing.

“Ow, OUCH!” she called out, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles as she flinched away from him. He released her arm from his grasp, allowing her a respite before the next step. His hands rested on her thighs, palms rubbing back and forth soothingly as she began to settle again.

“Uhh, does it really need stitches.” her voice was a broken whine as her head turned to look at him again.

“I’m sorry.” he said as he gave her a look that told her it was unavoidable.

Her head tilted up to the ceiling as she shook her head, psyching herself up. She took a deep breath before looking back at him. “Okay.” she nodded as she closed her eyes again, continuing to psych herself up. “Just do it.” she huffed.

He paused a moment, his hands still on her thighs as he allowed her another moment to make sure she was ready. He slowly took his hands away from her, reaching for the suture, sat waiting ready. He watched her closely as she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to look, knowing she’d lose her resolve.

“I’m gonna try to be as quick as I can, I promise.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed and agreed as she braced herself, his hand wrapping around her arm again.

The little noises she made as he used the curved needle to pierce her skin were unavoidable. “We’re almost there. You’re doing so good.” he cooed as she tried not to squirm under his touch. “Okay, one more, just one more baby.” he said as he passed the needle through her skin one last time, the fingers on his other hand reaching for the small pair of scissors to cut the surgical thread.

He took his hands away from her but she still didn’t open her eyes for another minute, allowing her breathing to steady as he began to clear things away. She finally opened her eyes as she felt his shadow loom over her. She looked to his hands to find him ripping open a large square shaped band aid. He carefully peeled off the backing before leaning over her and covering the area of her shoulder he’d just stitched up.

“Thank you.” she said quietly as he smoothed down the edges, his fingers brushing gently across her skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation in their wake.

They were so close. If she turned her head just a little they would kiss. For a moment he hesitated and she thought they would, but then he quickly stepped back and away from her.

“I’ll see if I can find you something to change into.” he said as he quickly turned his back on her and left the room.

She threw back her head to stare at the ceiling again as a new wave of tears threatened to spill over her bottom lashes. Her hands flew up to her face, hiding her eyes as she breathed deeply, willing her emotions away. She knew the day she’d eventually be able to go back to him would be hard, but she had never expected this. Everytime she looked at his face, she couldn’t see past the hurt in his eyes. She figured she’d be grateful he hadn’t moved on and found someone new to replace her with. Hadn’t walked back into that house and seen him lying in bed with another woman, but she knew that wasn’t her Peter. Then again, the pain her leaving had caused him, was he still her Peter. A lot can change in three years. Heck she’d changed in those three years.

She slowly stood up, wiping away her tears. Her hands reached to turn on the tap, allowing the cool water to soothe her skin, she splashed her face, wiping away the sweat and the grime and the few flecks of dried blood. She stared at herself in the mirror trying to recognise the woman she saw there as the same woman who had stood here all those years ago, but she couldn’t.

She turned off the tap, dabbing at her face with the towel as she heard three taps on the door. Peter slowly opened the door, his hand reaching out in front of him towards her, a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a white t-shirt folded neatly on top of his hand. She recognised the sweats as an old pair of his he had left here since he was a teen, the same pair she used to borrow when she stayed over. The t-shirt she was surprised to see was an old one of her own. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt she thought was long lost.

“Thank you.” she said as she gently took them from him.

“Umm, I’m gonna sleep on the sofa, you can take my old bedroom,” he said. His eyes struggled to meet her. It all felt so familiar, yet also so foreign. She wanted to say something but she didn’t know what. She just stared at him and he gave a quiet nod of his head before he closed the door again.

She crept into the spare room, her hands immediately dumping her clothes onto the empty chair just inside the door, before she closed it. He’d left the bedside lamp on for her, the faint glow adding warmth to the room. She couldn’t help but creep across the floor, her eyes searching the old familiar walls full of photos, old drawings, newspaper clippings. Her fingertips dragged across one of the old wooden shelves, taking in old school trophies, physics books, a picture of Peter and May at his graduation. The room was like a time capsule. She came to a stop in front of the end of the bed, staring at the sheets, undisturbed, lonely. It didn’t feel right, sleeping in this bed without him.

Before she could stop herself her hand was already on the door handle, ready to throw it open and creep down the hall, begging him to come to bed. But she froze. All that time, that space between them, as she stood there and felt it, it began to consume her. Instead she let her fingers drop to her sides, her feet begrudgingly walking around the side of the bed. She slowly climbed in under the covers. She stared at the door, one last time, willing him to come to her instead, but he didn’t. Tentatively she reached over, her fingers turning off the light, plunging her into darkness.

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