#this fic is finally seeing the light of day
Text
Releasing The Noctwind Brothers
Yandere Twin Vampire Brothers x Gender Neutral Human Turned Vampire Reader
CW: Incest between the vampire brothers, mildly dubious consent, intoxication, reader initiated sex, threesome, spit as lube, cum as lube, biting, blood sucking, forced to drink blood, forced to turn into a vampire, bullying, bully gets killed, beating, reader has temporarily broken bones, temporary injury, overprotective yanderes, general yandere behavior, twin yanderes, surprisingly whole ending, surprisingly happy ending
Word Count: 3.3k
(I know this kind of fic isn't for everyone between the violence the bully receives and the incest, but I hope a lot of people like it anyway. I worked very hard. Also yes, this is a repost because the original had an accidentally gendered pronoun. I apologize if anyone read that and experienced dysphoria.)
You had made a mistake. One that would, soon enough, prove to be a fatal one. Not just for you.
In your haste to start a task you had as one of the town’s carpenters you had turned a corner and ran right into the town brute himself, Jorry. Running into him, at any time, could result in a punch from his large meaty fists, but he had been carrying eggs freshly laid from his hens. This resulted in egg yolk covering an outraged Jorry.
Jorry had bullied you for as long as you could remember, he and his friends pummeling you whenever you happened upon them while he was in a bad mood. Or in any mood really. He just really liked using you as a punching bag. Most people left such behavior in childhood, but not Jorry.
You wasted no time at all in fleeing upon seeing who you had ran into. You weren’t quite in the mood to be nursing a broken nose that day. Luckily he had to wipe egg goop out of his eyes and that gave you some crucial extra seconds to make yourself scarce.
Despite making it a good way out of your village, the angered Jorry pursued you. He was nothing if not persistent. You hesitated a bit, but decided your only hope was to flee into the cave that everyone in all the nearby villages were terrified of. No one could remember the truth of the matter, but it had long been forbidden to enter. Many superstitious folks wouldn’t even travel within viewing distance of it.
You did not put much faith in superstition though, and no matter what was in there it couldn’t be worse than how badly Jorry would beat you if he caught up to you. If you had just taken your punishment in town someone would have happened by or heard your screams and he wouldn’t have been able to do nearly as much as he would all the way out here.
Again, a truly fatal miscalculation. You damn fool.
Hoping that you were safe in the cave you crouched in the shadows. But, while absurdly violent, your pursuer was not particularly dimwitted. He pretty quickly surmised that the cave was the logical place for you to have gone. You heard him scream and call for you in the distance.
The only chance to avoid the beating of your lifetime was to retreat farther into the cave. You crept back as silently as humanly possibly. When you went as far back as you could you came across an old metal door, carved into the rock surrounding it were twisting serpents. An ancient rune of unknown meaning was etched into the door itself.
Staring at it filled you with dread and you were possessed with the all consuming urge to flee the way you had come, but it was forgotten as if it was never there when you heard Jorry again, this time near the entrance of the cave. If he entered it now he would be able to see you. Light still made it this far.
With the subtle magic of the rune no longer working on you, you slowly opened the metal door and entered into what looked like an underground mausoleum. An underground tomb long forgotten by the histories of man.
You found yourself between two large rectangles of stone. A chill ran up your spine when you realized they were sarcophagi. Evidently the final resting place for two souls left to the dark and dust of this cave. They were plain and unadorned, other than some words on the top. You leaned over and tried to make out the inscription on one when you suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of stone grating against stone.
The sarcophagus opposite of you moved before the one in front of you did. You tripped backwards in fright as the lids were pushed aside and two pale emaciated corpses pulled themselves up and faced your direction. You couldn’t quite tell in the dark but it seemed like their eyes were completely black, creating a chilling contrast with their pale skin.
The thin pale figures slowly began to pull themselves out of their not so final resting places as you got over your initial shock, got up, and got the fuck out of there. You sprinted past the metal door and back into the front of the cave.
You were so engrossed with the current task of running away from the corpses of the damned risen to do any manner of unholy things to those still living that you did not see Jorry as he entered the cave. For the second time that day you careened right into him, knocking you both out of the cavern and on to the dirt outside.
Jorry growled and grabbed your leg, pulling you over to him.
“You ran like a bitch, finally decide it’s better to face your punishment?”
“No, no, no, you don’t understan-”
He pinned you and began wailing away at your smaller body with his mighty fists. Blow after blow. Your nose was surely broken. Then he got up and started stomping on you with his powerful foot. Now some ribs were certainly broken too.
Suddenly you heard Jorry yelp and the beating stopped. Your face was swollen and bloodied, your mind consumed by the pain of broken bones. You couldn’t tell what was going on. Jorry was screaming, blubbering like a girl. The dearly departed had been slowed due to their time without feeding, but with Jorry distracted by his treatment of you he was easy enough prey.
The thin pale figures had him down on the ground, pinning him with less effort than he had pinned you. They bit into his body, ravenously drinking his blood. Not enough to kill him, but enough to reinvigorate themselves and make him weak and helpless. Barely able to move.
You had managed to wipe the blood from your face and saw what was transpiring. You tried your best to drag yourself through the dirt and put distance between yourself and them, but you only managed to get about a foot away before they finally noticed you.
“Alaric look! The one who saved us… they need tending to.”
The vampire evidently named Alaric joined his companion in looking over you. As injured as you were, you struggled to plea for mercy.
“Shhh, shhh. We aren’t going to hurt you. We’d never hurt our savior.”
“I’m Anthelm Noctwind and this is my twin brother Alaric Noctwind. We're going to help.”
Anhelm positioned himself so that your head was propped up in his lap. He bit at his wrist until blood was flowing.
“Here. Drink.”
You weren't sure what lore was true and what was merely myth, but you were fairly positive that it was universally agreed upon that turning into a vampire required the consumption of one’s blood. You struggled to turn away but you were powerless to do so. Alaric held your mouth open as Anthelm held his bleeding wrist above it.
Blood dripped in and you gagged as you were forced to swallow. It tasted the same as any blood, though perhaps a little sweeter. Shortly after you consumed it you lost consciousness. Both due to the blood itself and your rather severe injuries.
They took you and Jorry back into the cave. It would take the rest of the day and a lot of the night for you to turn and heal. Alaric carried you with the utmost care and consideration for your wounds while just picking up Jorry and tossing him in unceremoniously, causing him to cry out in pain as he hit the hard rocky floor.
“I’d kill you now and decorate this place with your entrails, but we need you for something, so just keep quiet.”
Between Jorry’s incessant pleas to be freed and his attempt to run out of the cavern while they were both busy watching you resulted in his clothes being torn from him and ripped into strips that were used to bind and gag him.
Alaric, the cruelest of the brothers, watched in amusement as their hog tied victim cried and shook in fear. The hulking peasant experiencing the fear of death for the first time. The amused vampire went over to him and pet him like he was a pet, in mock sympathy.
“Don’t worry~,” Alaric cooed, “You’ll be out of your misery soon enough.”
That prompted renewed struggles from the naked man. Alaric only laughed in a maniacal fashion as he returned to your side. They had removed their coats, still pristine as the day they had been sealed away, and used them as bedding for you.
They patiently waited for hours, Alaric occasionally taunting poor Jorry, until you finally stirred. The swelling had gone, your bones had mended, and they had licked up the blood that had covered your face. The only evidence that you had ever suffered at all were the bloodstains on your clothing.
It was well past midnight, the twins had lit a fire to keep you and themselves warm. You could see them clearly now that your face was healed. They both looked exactly alike, down to the same outfits. High class, but outdated, attire. They had pale grey eyes that observed your every movement, completely different from the black voids you thought you had seen earlier. Flawless pale skin with delicate, feminine, features. Their long straight hair accentuated their looks perfectly. They could certainly pass as women if they wore the right attire. Maybe they lured in victims that way.
You were confused and more than a bit groggy, but you managed to piece together all the events that had transpired before your rest. You jumped up and made for the door but they were quicker than anything, human or animal, that you had ever encountered. One got behind you with his hand on your shoulders and the other stood in front with his hand on your cheek.
“Don’t be afraid, dove. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
You whimpered as they each took one of your hands and guided you over to Jorry.
“You consumed vampiric blood, right now it has transformed you. Temporarily.”
“Yes, to make it stick you’ll now need to kill.”
“Technically it doesn’t need to be human, any mammal will do, but since we have this lovely volunteer we figured we shouldn’t waste it. ”
“Don’t really want him talking about us. Don’t really want him to live after hurting our dove. And, well, it spares some rodent that is more deserving of life.”
You shuffled nervously.
“I… don’t want to be a… vampire…”
You looked down at your feet, trying to avoid eye contact with them or Jorry who looked up at you with tears streaking his face.
“Sorry, but we aren’t really giving you a choice.”
“We didn’t mean to make it seem that way, please forgive us.”
“You saved us, you had enough magical power to open the door and ignore the rune. You will be a strong vampire, and we can tell a lot more about you by your scent.”
“Smell things like personality, even some thoughts. We know you will be perfect for us.”
“Uh… can’t I just stay with you and remain human?”
“No.” They both said in unison.
“Humans age and die.”
“Humans have betrayed us too. That’s how we ended up here. You broke the seal so we have to show our gratitude.”
You kept staring at your feet until you worked up the courage to ask the question you were afraid to hear the answer to.
“What if I refuse?”
Anthelm smiled and Alaric laughed as if it was a funny joke. Not that you could tell them apart yet.
“Not a choice sweetie, remember?”
“If you don’t do it willingly then I block the tomb entrance so you can’t go deeper.”
“And I guard the cave exit so you can’t leave. Then we leave you alone with your friend. Your hunger will grow. You’ll crave blood. Your senses will be unbearable.”
“You’ll hear his heartbeat, he will smell delicious, then you’ll drain him dry.”
“In more normal circumstances he could survive that, and the blood consumption without a death only prolongs the transitional period, it wouldn’t make you a true vampire. Go long enough without blood, have someone tie you up for a few days, and you’d turn fully human.”
“But he is weak and beaten. He won’t survive.”
You looked at them and stated boldly that you’d resist.
“You are more than welcome to try.”
They each took their agreed upon spots to guard against you fleeing. True to their word you did steadily become more and more hungry. Thirsty for blood. Your senses became acutely aware of the food that had been tied up for you. You tried to resist. Your body shook with the effort. You had a splitting headache and panted heavily. Jorry smelled so good, and the beat of his heart beckoned you towards him. Though you resisted longer than most, the outcome was inevitable.
You descended upon him, he squealed as much as he could with his gag as you bit into his neck and sucked him dry. His futile struggles getting more feeble by the second until they stopped entirely.
Alaric and Anthelm were behind you watching with wicked smiles.
When you finished your meal of Jorry you looked on in horror. But only briefly. You had over consumed and the effects were as powerful as they were swift. You were a bit dizzy and felt as though you were light as air.
“With his death you’ll be with us forever!”
You tried to get up but stumbled and nearly fell. One of the twins caught you. You smiled and nuzzled into his neck. There was a cute man holding you, why had you been so horrified earlier? You shrugged it off, if you couldn’t remember then it probably wasn’t too terribly important.
“Careful, dove. The first times on human blood and drinking to the point of death can be intense.”
“And we definitely let you drink too much.”
You giggled and stroked Anthelm’s soft black hair, not at all paying attention to his words.
“You’re prettier than any girl I’ve ever seen.”
He blushed and Alaric cackled at the spectacle. Until you kissed Anthelm deeply. Then Alaric looked a bit jealous.
You grinded your crotch against Anthelm and giggled at the face he made.
“Everything feels so… intense.”
“Ddon’t you want to go somewhere a bit more... comfy?
“Or romantic? We could find a town. An inn.” Added Alaric.
You ignored him, proceeded to unbutton his shirt and then rubbed your hands over his lean abs. He started returning the treatment, Alaric came over and helped him undress you. It didn’t take long for all three of you to be nude. They used the clothes to make an impromptu bed. Anthelm laid down, his erect cock on full display.
He pulled you on top of him, kissing and nipping at your neck while Alaric was behind the two of you. He pressed two spit-lubed fingers into both you and his brother. Both of you writhed in pleasure, but it simply wasn’t enough.
Alaric didn’t need to stretch either of you out, vampires wouldn’t be pained by something like a cock shoving its way in, but it would feel better with more moisture. He withdrew his fingers, making you pout, and lubed up his cock with saliva before sucking on his brothers for a moment to get it wet.
Then he guided his brother's dick into you before sliding his own cock into his brother. You pressed back against it, trying to get the girthy member as deep into you as possible. Anthelm humped into you slowly, timing his thrusts with your bounces.
Alaric gasped as his cock was gripped by his brother’s tight inviting insides, he gripped Anthelm’s legs for leverage as he drove himself deeper. Anthelm, in the middle of all the action, could barely think. Simultaneously making love to you while being bred by his twin had him drooling.
“Always so tight…”
“Alaric, h-harder.”
His sibling obliged him.
You were in a worse state than Anthelm. You were new to being a vampire and the blood drunkenness combined with your recent kill made every sensation indescribable. More so when the sensations were that of a vampire at your neck and a cock humping into you while you weakly continued to bounce on it.
Anthelm’s entire body shook as he came in you, shoving his cock far into depths before unloading his seed. He took a few moments to catch his breath, an orgasm evidently enough to tire a vampire. If only for a moment. He stayed hard and began fucking into you again.
“I think you were made for us, angel.”
The stimulation was just too much for you and you screamed as you had the most intense orgasm of your entire life. Your body relaxed as you lay on Anthelm, no longer bouncing on his cock but content to let him keep using you as long as he saw fit as you nuzzled into his chest.
Alaric gripped his brother’s legs tightly as he finally slammed in hard and filled him like he had filled you. Without missing a beat he slid out of his brother, covered his cock in the cum that pooled out of him, and slid it right into you. Both of there cocks now covered in a slimy mix of both of their loads, using it as lube as they thrust into you in tandem. You whimpered at the sheer immensity of the pleasure that was filling you.
The three of you spent the rest of the entire night, and a good chunk of the morning, engaged in a rapturous sea of sex. Eventually you all fell asleep on top of them. Given their recent centuries long slumber they stayed awake and idly toyed with your hair or caressing you as you slept soundly.
They whispered to themselves about what the plan from there was.
“There’s a stream outside we can clean ourselves off in.”
“Yeah, I can smell it. After that head to a town?”
“A large one where we can blend in. Feed on livestock outside the walls. Maybe rats too if necessary. Always rats in large towns.”
“What about humans? Always rapists and thugs in cities that need to be taken care of.”
Alaric looked at Anthelm hopefully.
“True. True,” Anthelm relented, “I suppose it won’t hurt to remove a few bad ones. On occasion.”
Alaric broke into a large grin.
“Yes! I love how our new partner gets when they are drunk on human life.”
You stirred a bit in your sleep though you didn’t wake, drool under your cheek and on Alaric’s bare chest.
“Quiet, they need their rest…”
“Sorry,” Alaric murmured sheepishly.
They continued chatting about the future until you woke up. With a clearer head you were once more traumatized by what you had done, but they calmed you down and explained how he deserved it and that you were not a monster. They would guide you in your new life.
They were eager to leave behind the cave that had held them prisoner for so long. Bidding the cave farewell with a piss on Jorry’s soon to be rotting corpse, the closest thing he would get to a burial, the brothers departed with you.
You made a life for yourselves in one of the larger cities. Anytime someone tried to hurt you they went missing quite fast. It would be many years still before you had the degree of strength and power that the twins possessed. And even once you did they’d always remain overprotective.
You quickly came to accept and love your new existence with them. Anthelm took up your trade with you while Alaric became a prominent cook and eventually owner of his own restaurant. Apparently the hypersensitivity of vampiric taste buds helped him make delicacies. There was always a need for carpentry and fancy food, so you never had any money troubles, (un)life was good. And you had an eternity to spend it with them.
#yandere teratophilia#yandere terato#yandere x reader#monster boyfriend#gender neutral reader#yandere monster#male yandere x gn reader#yandere boyfriend#yandere boyfriends#yandere twins#twin yanderes#vampire yandere#vampire x reader#vampires x reader#vampires#vampirism#vampire boyfriend#My OCs#My OC Jorry#My OC Alaric#My OC Anthelm#yandere situation#yandere scenario
588 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nocturnal eyes
Pairing: Astarion/ g/n Tav
Tags: vulnerable Astarion, angst, friendship, a bit of fluff
Length: 2.4k words
Summary: Astarion notices something is off with his eyes …
A/N: @nyx-knox out here once again, being the ✨best✨ beta-reader I could hope for!
Also: ARE Y'ALL FOR REAL?! Over 750 reactions on my Bedhead fic?? Thank you so much 🥹!!!
Taglist: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate , @littlelovelore, @onlyancunin @chaoticbardlady99
::::::::::::::::::
Astarion sits in the soft green grass, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun.
Today had been exhausting. The party had finally left the wilderness behind and set up camp on the Mountain Pass. Tomorrow they will head to the Githyanki Crèche, but for now … he’s just relaxing, listening to the soft rustle of the trees above him with his eyes closed.
Because they are hurting again - his damned eyes - causing his head to ache in that awful stinging way. This has been happening semi-regularly since they crashed on that beach. By the end of every day, his eyes feel exhausted. Sometimes he even welcomed the night, the dark bringing relief to his vision, much as he hated to admit that he found any solace in the darkness after having been trapped in it for so long.
It’s not that he wants to be in the dark again - on the contrary! Oh, words could never express how much he enjoys the feeling of the warmth on his skin, the smell of sun-baked earth beneath him, filling him with life, making his undead heart swell with secret joy. It’s just …
“Truly, a sight to behold,” Gale had said, when they first stepped through the gate onto the Pass and were greeted by a magnificent view of the surrounding valley … Or at least Astarion assumed that’s what it was.
Because he can’t tell. Not really. In fact, all he sees are blurry, rugged shapes and a haze of earthy colors far off in the distance.
When Astarion had first opened his eyes after the crash, all he could do was gasp audibly. The sun seared his eyes, the light brighter than anything he had seen in centuries. Immediately, he had shielded his face from the merciless rays, curled into a ball, panic taking over. “No!” he yelped. It’s daytime! I can’t be out! Oh Gods, do I smell smoke? Am I burning up?? Am I disintegrating???
But a few heartbeats passed and to his surprise - and great relief - it was not a burning pain he started to feel. Rather, it was a sensation he thought he had forgotten but that he immediately recalled, having felt it lifetimes ago: The warmth of the midday sun.
Cautiously, he had uncoiled himself and tried opening his eyes again. Gods! It hurts. Of course, Vampire eyes are sensitive to the light, in order to see better at night. An essential trait for nocturnal creatures, predators, such as himself. His eyes hadn’t had to process so much brightness in … forever. So, being blasted with daylight for the first time in roughly 200 years - it hurt like all Hells!
It took a few moments, but eventually Astarion managed to pry open his crimson eyes. And he began to see. To look. And he saw colors he hadn’t seen in too long. He saw the bright blue sky, the deep purples of the Nautiloid shipwreck, the turquoise water covered with the most beautiful shimmering reflections. Everything was bright. Everything was so vibrant! Everything was so … full of life. He looked up, squinting at the trees and their slightly blurred leaves. Those luscious, green leaves. Gods … I had forgotten how beautiful that particular color is …
But there had been no time for him to enjoy all those new sights for long. He heard them before he saw them. The others. Friends? Enemies? He couldn’t tell. They were just indiscernible shapes in the distance - but as soon as he had lured one of them close enough to put a knife to their throat, he was back in survival mode, forgetting about the colors he had just reveled in.
That’s what he knew how to do, after all. Hitting his close target. And really, that’s all he should care about, that’s really all he actually needs to see. He’s a master at close-up melee combat, a rogue who sneaks up to his victims, dangerous with his blade. He’s skilled at picking locks and picking pockets. And he’s an amazing lover, always able to read every detail of his victims' expressions to make sure he hits that target just as well. All he needs to see clearly is what’s right in front of him, isn’t it?
But if he was being really honest … it’s not like his usual tricks have actually worked out for him so far, now have they? His first melee attack had earned him a headbutt to the face. He had woken his first victim while sneaking up on them. And he felt his nice little seduction plan for Tav slowly and steadily backfiring on him - but that was a problem for another time. So why not top it all off with embarrassingly inadequate vampiric eyesight to really emphasize it all, he figured?
Astarion opens his eyes again and looks at the hazy, blurred valley below, the wind tousling his white locks, and he scoffs. Ironic, isn’t it? Here he is, finally free from his captor. But of course, even out in the open, he’s not able to look beyond the confines of his own metaphorical cell. As if his eyes are still keeping him prisoner.
A sound behind him snaps him out of his thoughts. Again, he hears them before he sees them coming. Only this time he knows it is a friend. “Astarion?” Tav, he thinks with a knowing smile. He knows their voice anywhere.
“Yes, Darling?” he asks as their leader emerges from the shade of the trees.
Astarion grew to enjoy Tav‘s company quite a bit, if he was being honest. Not only during their passionate encounters, but also just sitting with them, talking about their journey, about the others in their party, sometimes even about his past, which he never thought possible when he had been pressing his knife to their throat just a short time ago.
“Enjoying the view?” they ask as they sit down next to him in the soft grass.
“Oh of course,” Astarion answers as he leans back onto his elbows.
“Especially the Crèche,” Tav continues, pointing into the valley, making casual conversation.
“Why, I agree. Who would have thought the Gith were such marvelous architects,” the pale Elf replies without missing a beat.
It’s now that Tav turns to look at him. “... Except the Crèche is in the opposite direction?” they say cautiously.
Shit. Astarion tenses.
He hates this. They know. Immediately he is prepared to snap, to throw a sarcastic comment back at them, telling them to mind their own damn business. Feeling exposed, he keeps his gaze fixed forward, part of him expecting to see mockery, or malice even, should he meet Tav’s eyes. But when he eventually looks up … all he sees is a knowing smile. Their face is so very clear next to him, and so is the genuine fondness that greets him in their expression. The same fondness he is secretly happy to see on Tav’s face every time they look at him.
Astarion takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want his walls to go up. Not for Tav. He resists it, that stupid defensive mechanism and to his surprise, he actually relaxes a bit. “You noticed,” he says quietly.
Tav nods. “On our first day, actually.” His eyebrows go up in surprise.
“Did you now?” the vampire asks.
“We climbed that platform next to the crash site, remember? You were first up. And you said there’s nothing to see.” Their tone is neither condescending nor reproachful. “But there was... A lot, actually. You know, like, the village? Or the goblin camp. Or, well, this mountain pass. So yeah, I noticed.”
Astarion scoffs. They were right, of course. And back then, he didn’t even realize there was something wrong with his vision. He had still been so overwhelmed with all the light and color, all this blue and green…
For a moment, both sit in silence before Astarion speaks up. “It’s all rather blurry, you know?” he finally admits aloud. “I never noticed it back in Baldur’s Gate.”
Tav listens and nods. “I thought vampirism cures all mortal ailments, even eye problems.”
“Well, maybe there are exceptions? Or maybe I’m just a sorry excuse for a vampire spawn. Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not like any vampire is able to look at vast illuminated landscapes during the day to notice if something is off.” he says in a slightly frustrated, even embarrassed tone, gesturing towards the sunset.
“Your eyes have been adjusted to the night for 200 years. So … maybe they just need a bit to adjust to the daylight now? Give it some time.” The optimism and sweetness in Tav’s voice makes the corner of Astarion’s mouth twitch up into a half-smile.
“Wouldn’t that be something,” he says. Maybe they are right. Maybe.
This is when Tav clears their throat. “But uhm, until then …” Astarion’s pointy ears twitch slightly as he hears Tav rummaging in their pocket. When they procure something wrapped in a folded leather cloth, he sits up.
“What’s this?” he asked, and they hand him the flat parcel. Curiously, Astarion opens the wrapping.
In his hand lies the most hideous pair of mismatched spectacles he has ever seen.
Before he can say anything, Tav begins to talk. “I came across this half broken pair of looking glasses while looting some time ago, and I thought, well, while there is no way we would ever find the perfect pair, we might just try making a custom one, right? I mean, it’s obvious you’re straining your eyes. You might not say anything to us about it, and you don’t have to, but I can tell that you often have a headache by the end of the day, and I, well, wanted to help.” Astarion still says nothing, inspecting the wonky looking thing in his hands.
Quickly, Tav continues, compelled to explain. “But you have no idea how hard it is to find undamaged spectacles! I mean, it makes sense, right? Who would leave their eyes behind? So anyway, I started collecting all the glasses I could find, hoping for an intact pair, but well … eventually I ended up with … this.”
The pair of spectacles in Astarion’s hand was clearly made of two halves from different glasses, held together in the middle by a thin leather cord, wrapped around it several times and in several other places. “Both glasses seemed to be made for looking at things further away. Of course, I can’t say for certain. They are not for me, I mean, if anything, I should be looking into finding a pair for me, so I can finally read that book Gale won’t shut up about. But … anyway, I thought maybe they might be of use to you.”
It’s not often that Astarion is stunned into silence. Tav did this? For him? It takes him a moment to process this … act of kindness. But when he does, he leans over to Tav, turning their face to him with a finger beneath their chin, and softly kisses them. “They … are hideous, my dear,” he says against their lips, with a chuckle and a genuine, soft smile on his face.
“Yeah, I know,” Tav agrees, kissing him back, mirroring his smile, before pulling away. “Well go on then, put them on.”
And he does. Astarion puts on the mismatched, wonky pair of improvised spectacles, the right temple barely fitting over his ear.
“Well?”, Tav asks hopefully.
With the awkward thing perched in his elegant face, the vampire looks down into the valley and takes in an almost inaudible breath. It’s … much better than he could have hoped for. Yes, it’s far from perfect. The glasses are sitting on his aquiline nose lopsided and the left glass is not even close to what he probably needs, yet he feels that nagging strain on his eyes eases immediately.
But that’s not what stuns the pale Elf.
Just as the sun begins to disappear behind the mountains, casting long shadows and a warm orange glow on everything around them, Astarion sees. And all of it this time! For the first time in 200 years, he sees the crisp outline of the setting sun. He sees the mountain tops and ridges. He sees the glowing clouds. By the Gods…
“Astarion?” Tav asks timidly, but he does not react. They sit with him in silence then, watching him watch the sunset in wonder, those red ruby eyes they love so much squinting intently, unmoving, until the glowing disk disappears behind the horizon and the sky slowly begins to turn a lovely shade of purple.
It takes a moment for Astarion to stir again. Carefully, he takes the spectacles off his face as if it’s the most precious thing he has ever owned, before looking at Tav. A lot of things are going through his head at that moment, and - much to his ever-growing confusion - through his undead heart as well. This is not a thing you just do for a travel-companion. Why are you so nice to me? I do not deserve your kindness. “Thank you.”, he eventually settles on, and he knows to Tav those simple words convey everything.
Tav smiles. “Don’t mention it,” obviously delighted their little gift has been accepted. Why in the hells his favorite travel companion, no, his lover, went out of their way to help him like this, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Sure, they agreed to help him kill Cazador, but this is not the same! This is special. This is … caring. It is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. And he is truly, deeply grateful.
This gift would do wonders for his vision, at least until his nocturnal eyes fully embrace looking into the far distance during the day. He knows he will look so foolish with this contraption on his nose and he would probably have to kill Gale should the wizard ever see him with them on, but somehow he didn’t mind wearing these, looking silly, unsightly even, in front of Tav. They wouldn’t judge him, they wouldn’t laugh at him. Because he feels that they care.
After a moment, Astarion puts the spectacles back on, turning his head up to the tree branches above them, that stunning green of the individual, defined leaves still visible in the dim dusk light.
“You know, Darling …”, he says, “I really do love that color.”
#ohoh herdarkestnightelegance wrote something#astarion fanfiction#astarion x tav#astarion headcanons#baldurs gate 3#astarion ancunin#astarion fanfic
103 notes
·
View notes
Text
Simon Riley, who's been surrounded by death for longer than he can remember. It's become harder and harder to remember the years without it. Whether the ones who fall are the soldiers beside him or enemies at his own hands no longer matters to him, not really, not like it should.
Ghost, who becomes used to watching that final spark leave a set of eyes before they become glossy and empty. It takes him years to notice that final little thing. Nothing more than a reflection, but She's there.
Ghost, who questions Price and Soap, quietly and reluctantly, but they don't understand. They don't get it like he does. And it doesn't make sense, he knows it doesn't. Soldiers are known to go insane after too long in the field, perhaps that's what's happening to him.
It's after not sleeping for 60 hours that he sees Her after all, sweeping or floating through the battlefield, draped in every colour on the spectrum and not a single one of them. Ghost has never seen a face like it, and he knows he never will. All of Her reeks of paradoxical features and curves that swirl and change whenever he thinks he's finally grasped some aspect of Her. She bends down, soft and caring, as the final light slips from his teammate's eyes, and She carries him with her while his body remains.
The second he tries to stop Her, reach out and touch her, his hands slip through her. For one moment lasting years and less than a second, She glances at him. He doesn't blink, but She disappears anyway.
Years pass. Ghost recognises her. Always. In time, she watches him through reflections. She follows him wherever he goes. But there's nothing cruel about it. It's impossible with the sad smile shining from Her. It's not something she does but rather something that she is.
Ghost, who no longer has any true fears on the battlefield. It's simply another work day. But it changes when he sees Her. How She looks at him. He isn't afraid of Death but he manages to stagger back. Running is futile, he's seen others feverishly try to crawl from Her, fingers scraping at the ground until the skin wears away, a bloody trail following the leg no longer there and all of it with no use. Fighting is quite the same: as impossible as this entire thing is improbable.
"Shhh." Something beyond a voice, coming from his own head, he's sure, coos. "So close to me. You rarely ever are. How long has it been? No... you're alright, my love."
Ghost stops. She's infinitely tall yet he looks down at Her. Her smile isn't sad as She stretches a hand towards him, lifting the bottom of his mask, and that's when an inkling of fear finds him. For years, She's been his sole comfort on the battlefield. A single neverending entity he could always trust to be with him no matter how many years were to pass, but after wishing for so long to see Her, have Her closer, he wants nothing more than hundreds of miles to separate them.
"Is it time?"
"Afraid not, love." She smiles with a thousand pleasant summer days and cosy winter nights. "I have a job to do, but you've been close to me for so long. I want to see your face before I go."
Death lifts the skull, removes every layer until his scarred skin is visible to Her.
"How can I see you?"
"What a wicked thing it is." A sigh falls from wonderful lips as She caresses his cheek with a cool touch. "I'm sorry, Simon."
"Simon..." He repeats, tasting the foreign word.
She's fading.
"Wait! How can I-"
"Don't worry, love. No matter what, you'll see me again at the end."
Ghost becomes worse, more than he's ever been. With enough blood on his hands and enough souls at his feet, he can see Her again. He haunts the battlefields like never before, staring into the eyes of his victims for the mere chance of catching a glimpse. However long, no matter how many bodies it takes, he will see Her again.
« ⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑ »
I've had this in my ideas doc for, like, years, and I just needed to get it out lmao. I'd love to write a full fic but unless I'll get 30 hours in a day, I don't have that kinda time lmao.
#cod#call of duty#ghost#drabble#ghost cod#ghost fanfiction#141#task force 141#fan#fan fiction#wri#writing#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gift of Belonging
Luffy x GN Reader
Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.
Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3
Taglist:
@bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish
You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t? You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew. You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god. You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old. You were just… simple.
And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.
They made you feel wanted.
And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.
You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship. You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors. But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight. Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats. And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.
“I don’t care who you are. You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”
It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time. Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced. Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being. Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from. Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.
And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.
The Straw Hats were loving. They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.
You broke down.
You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away. Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt. You loved your crew, you really did. You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you. Like you were unprepared. Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit. And you cried. You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.
Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.
“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?” It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you. He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.
You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.
“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.
A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear. He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him. Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen. It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin. “Did someone say something to you? Did someone hurt you?”
You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm. You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax. “No… no one said anything to me.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people. It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain. His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.
You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly. “I’m just… not used to this.”
“Not used to what?”
His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face. Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.
“I’m not used to… this.” Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders. “Being a part of a crew. You guys are… too nice to me.”
Luffy was ready with a response immediately. “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’ That’s impossible. We love you.”
Your lip quivered slightly. “That’s what I’m not used to.”
“Being loved?”
There it was. You feebly nodded. “Yeah. That.”
Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible. He was basically flush against you at this point. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek. “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described. His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words. Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp. ‘We love you, but I love you more.’
“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.
Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent. If anything, he tried to pull you in closer. The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder. But he still didn’t let up. He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.
“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.
“What?” He sounded completely oblivious. “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore. No more crying,” he demanded. “Captain’s orders.” His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.
He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips. After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace. You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected. Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated. His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts. Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.
You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back. “Not yet,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”
“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.
“Hmm… not necessarily. Everyone’s different. Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them. Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.” A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart. “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”
You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes. The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.
And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved. It was miraculous. All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.
Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#one piece x reader#op x reader#monkey d luffy x reader#luffy x reader#monkey d luffy#luffy oneshot
90 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi!! i really love your writing and i would love if you could feed me with a request (only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) 👉🏼👈🏼 what about a leon x reader where reader is passing through a very tough depressive crisis and is really not fine mentally speaking — and leon just try to help and comfort them through this? 👉🏼👈🏼
anyway, thank you for your fics, they really helped me these days 😭💗
Anchor
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNPartner!Reader
Summary: It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. He shouldn't be there and you shouldn't have opened it.
Warning tags: hurt/comfort, angst, leon almost died, reader is suffering with anxiety due to past events, can be read as platonic or romantic (you choose)
Writer's Notes: hello! first of all, im sorry i took so long to write this request for you. i changed some stuff and i hope you don't mind (reader is still depressed). thank you so much your kind words and i hope this fic serves as comfort for you!! <333 stay safe anon!
for more painful leon's fics, check my masterlist. i have some happy ones too :)
It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. It is the third time that week only, the fifth of the month.
It starts when you don’t appear at work after two weeks since his return, and no one knows where you are. HR informs you are sick, which means you are still alive somewhere in the world, just sick. Okay, but sick with what? Sick how? Are you in the hospital? Do you need any help? Leon knows you don’t have family around, like him, and you are pretty much alone - like him.
So, as any regular worried friend would, he calls and texts. He wants to hear your voice and guarantee that you don’t need help and have everything you need. That you truly are okay. No answer. HR has guaranteed him you are not dead, but what if you—no, he shouldn’t think about that.
The next step is going to your house. He knows where your address is and wouldn’t be a complete weird appearing there in the afternoon. No answer. Leon won’t be a creep as far as looking at your windows, at least not yet. He won’t go as far as busting your door and checking how you are feeling because he needs to confirm you are okay. You might just not be home.
On the second visit, Leon got awfully close to kicking your door. Before he could do that or even knock, he saw a shadow pass over the window. Though Leon told himself he wouldn’t, he looked inside just in time to see you disappear to the second floor. So, at least you are really alive, Leon’s body filling with relief. It could have been a bad case of flu, and you don’t want to contaminate anyone.
One more week passes, and he visits your house two more times. Those times you didn’t even bother to hide yourself, lazily lying down on the sofa in a way Leon couldn’t see your face (oh yeah, now he is definitely peeking out your windows). So you are genuinely ignoring him or truly sick with some contagious disease. Maybe Covid?
The fifth time he knocks on your door, it is 1 am and Leon is deeply not only worried but bitter. He was sitting in his apartment alone, wondering what you had and why you didn’t open the door for him. You two are colleagues, and Leon would dare to go as far as to call you his friend if anyone asked. How many times have you brought him soup while he was sick? Brought him meds, kept him company? Checked on him until he was finally all better?
It would be only fair if he did the same.
Leon grabs his keys without even thinking: You will open the door for him tonight. And if you don’t, well, he will kick it open. To hell with the civil approach.
-x-
All the courage slips away from his body when he notices the kitchen’s light on. Leon can’t see anything inside since you decided to make his life harder and close the curtains. So, instead of kicking that door until it’s down, Leon goes back to the gentle approach (like the idiot he is): he knocks.
The door opens not even ten seconds later, and Leon blinks, surprised. You are there. You, not a trick of his eyes: a fluffy and long blanket covering your body, only your face peeking with a familiar expression Leon recognizes immediately - he had seen in his own mirror before.
“You won. What the fuck do you want?” Those are the first words to him in weeks.
“May I come in?”
You ponder for a moment, your eyes red, and Leon wonders when you last slept. You walk away, leaving the door open, and Leon follows inside, locking the door behind him.
Your house isn’t in the best state. He had been here before and thought you weren’t the most organized person (“I can find myself in my own mess, Leon.”). The mess had grown too much from normal. There were tons of take-out boxes on the kitchen counter, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. At least you had been eating—not the best food ever, but feeding. He could work with that.
And the bottles—oh, those Leon would identify anywhere. You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you mentioned plenty of times you didn’t know how he liked whiskey. Now, there were countless empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and vodka, so much so that the place looked like a bunch of frat boys had a party just the night before and didn’t bother to clean.
Leon follows you to the living room as you fall onto the couch. An old Simpsons episode plays on the TV screen. There are still some bags and bottles on the floor, but fewer. Your eyes focus on the TV, not really watching or paying attention to him. Leon stands there, keeping a safe distance from you and gathering what to say.
“I came to check on you.” Leon starts, his eyes glued on you. “You haven’t called or texted me back. The HR said-”
“I am sick. I wanted to be left alone.”
“I know, but-”
“I could complain about this to HR, you know? It could be considered an invasion of privacy, and you could lose your job. “
“I was worried about you.”
“You saw me in the window that day, didn’t you? I’m alive and breathing. Now get out.”
You hide your face in the sofa, conversation clearly done on your side. It feels like an impossible battle to win. Leon then tries again, “Do you need anything?”
“No. Get out.”
He sighs, turning on his heels. Leon wants to say you can call if you need him, any time, but Leon knows you wouldn't. This is an impossible battle to win, Leon realizes as he starts to leave. But then he freezes, a memory piercing his thoughts. Leon comes back to the living room, your face still hidden.
“No.”
“What?”
“I am not leaving. Not before I know what is wrong.”
“I am sick.”
“Yes. So I have heard.”
You don’t turn to look at him, and that’s fine. If you want to be stubborn, so could he. Leon can wait. The episode on the TV finally ends, and as the familiar opening plays in the background, you slowly turn in his direction, one eye appearing first, then the other, as if expecting Leon would be gone by now. Unlucky for you, Leon S. Kennedy didn’t give up that easily, especially for his friends.
“I don’t know what you are feeling, but I know that face.” His voice manages to sound neutral.
Of course, he does. Of course, your partner, the legendary D.S.O veteran, would know. You, just a newbie, would have no idea what he went through, but Leon didn’t seem the kind of person to crumble for anything. Leon would probably be fine if you were the one to get shot, not him. He wouldn’t have panicked, he wouldn’t have started crying, screaming for someone to help them, losing themselves in a sea of despair and pain.
“Hey…”
Blood. So much blood in your hands. You are useless, you can’t help him as Leon’s face loses color-
“Hey.”
He deserved someone better—someone much better as a partner—not you, a weak agent who thought you were strong enough to stand by his side. Oh, how wrong you were.
Leon calls your name, more urgent this time, and your line of sight is filled with the face of the man you considered your friend right at your path—concerned blue eyes, his hair tickling against your face. His forehead is in concentration, the faint ghost of a beard, as he speaks soothingly. “Hey, look at me. You are safe. Deep breaths, come on.”
The visions mix as you blink: Leon losing blood in your arms, unconscious, back to being safe, his worried eyes staring at you.
Your rapid breathing noise fills the room, your heart wanting to burst as the pain spreads over your body, the pain worse than being stabbed or punched. You keep your eyes on Leon - he is fine, he is safe, he is well, he is worried sick about you- as he continues to nod and tell you to breathe.
It takes a while, Leon’s hands on your shoulder as you finally calm down, the tears rolling freely from your eyes.
“I am sorry.” You manage to whisper. “I am so sorry.”
“You are safe. We both are safe.” Leon declares, and you take that in. Right now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about-? “Hey, eyes open at me.” When had you even closed them? “Come on. There is no one else, just you and me. And we are safe.”
You nod, not arguing back. Finally, you sit down, and Leon takes two steps back. “Water?”
“I think there are some in the fridge,” you reply, cleaning your tears. Leon leaves and quickly comes back with two bottles, unbottling them for you. You shake your head, but Leon insists, and you drink in small sips, the cold liquid refreshing your dry throat. When was the last time you had any water? Or took a shower? Or slept?
Finally, you give him space on the couch to sit. Leon doesn’t, and you point your head to your side, and he sits, keeping a safe distance from you. You two say nothing for a while, simply looking at the TV to watch Bart Simpsons on his shenanigans.
“I am sorry.”
“Would you stop that?” Leon sighs back, frustrated.
“No. I am sorry.”
“Fine. I forgive you. Are we good now?”
“No.”
“I knew it wouldn’t be,” Leon replies with a sad smile.
“You could have died, and I didn’t-” Leon says your name, but you continue “-let me finish. I didn’t help. I didn’t move. I did nothing.”
Leon didn’t want to talk about this, knowing it was inevitable. The day he took a bullet for you: not one, but two. Leon noticed before you, his reflexes quicker than yours. It was his responsibility anyway.
You only watched, shocked, as the bullet pierced his leg, then his chest. You didn’t move or flinch; you just froze, your hands closing and opening nervously as Leon fell right in front of you. You had been fortunate that the backup team had arrived on the other second, finding in the middle of the swarm of bullets a screaming you protecting Leon with his own body, all training thrown out of the window. You two should have been dead. Life had given you and him another chance, since no other vital organ or vein of Leon had been damaged.
You don’t remember much after except asking for your resignation that same day and getting a “No” as an answer. So you decided to get on sick leave until some higher-up got tired and fired you.
“I did nothing.” Leon tries to interrupt you again, but you continue, “You could have died, and I did nothing.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault.”
“What? Of course, it would!”
“No, it would not.”
“Can you fucking stop trying to make me feel better?” Your tone is so angry, so vile, that Leon almost flinches.
Death is always in the back of his mind. Every time he is out there, he could die. He is expandable; they all are, but he couldn’t just let you die. You a much smarter version of what he once was during Raccoon City. The same bravery, but not foolish as his. Much sharper. Leon knew why he got paired up with you in the first place, the irony not completely lost in him.
It would have been fine if Leon died that day he protected you, but not okay if you did. Not on his watch. Not now, not ever.
“I can’t help it,” Leon replies, a sad smile on his lips. “I can’t help it, especially when a friend needs my help.”
A friend?
Do not grow attachments. Wasn’t that your first lesson? It had been hard to be paired up with a man who hated it at first, then to learn how to laugh at his silly jokes or admire how far Leon would go for anyone. For anyone, except himself, stupid brave man.
You open your mouth and close it, simply lying against the sofa with your eyes closed.
“So, let me help you?” His voice is warm and inviting.
It would be best if you said no. You should kick this man out of your living room, out of your life, and never go back to that stupid job fighting an endless battle that would end with you dead or someone you cherished dead. You don’t know how Leon does it, but as you open your eyes, his blue eyes look straight at you awaits in hope. Waiting to comfort you, support you to the best of his abilities, and be your friend.
The pain is still there, vivid in your soul and mind, but there is hope. Right there, in that tiny spot you gave Leon S. Kennedy. That’s why you shouldn’t have opened that damn door, you realize, but it is too late. You limit on nodding.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy fic#leon kennedy fanfics#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy imagines#request#requests#asks#ask
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
We Have Now
Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader
Warnings: lil bit of angst, suggestive content
Summary: The season is over, the seniors have graduated and the summer has begun. The future holds a lot of uncertainty, but your feelings for Nika have never been uncertain. Is it too late for you?
A/n: I just can’t resist summer themed fics. Also I’m ngl this is NOTT my best work so I’m sorry for that… enjoy anyways.
“Holy shit!”
Through the window of your bedroom you can see the sunset has turned outside an entrancing mix of tropical colours. Pink, purple, orange and yellow mix in the clouds and paint the world around you for a moment, and you know you need to see it up close.
You rush down the stairs and past the living room, where the rest of the team is sleeping on the couch with a movie on in the background.
It had been a long day for everyone, the team had planned to spend a couple days of July at an airbnb in Rhode Island back in February, and the plan thankfully took off.
The day had been filled with a long car ride, various TikToks, loud music, unpacking, swimming and barbecuing. Everyone was exhausted.
When you rush out to the deck you’re encapsulated by the scenery. Sunsets were beautiful, but even better by the beach. The white sand and deep ocean water against the rich setting sky was something out of a book.
After taking about a hundred photos and videos, you put your phone away and just stood in astonishment.
Playing basketball with these girls at Uconn was one of the biggest blessings you’d ever received in your life, and you were going to miss them so much. You often found yourself swimming in old memories at night, memories of locker room conversations, late night drives, shared playlists, loud Friday night parties, shared looks, useless yearning and post game tears.
You’d already gone through your sad feelings at graduation though, and the draft had brought some more light to the situation. You had no regrets whatsoever about your college career, except for maybe one thing. And that thing was on the beach right now.
Nika was laying on the sand, just far enough from the ocean to avoid getting hit by the high tide. She didn’t say anything when you laid down beside her, the both of you just stared at the darkening sky as the sound of waves filled the silence.
“Remember how different things were when we first met?” You finally say after some time.
Nika quietly laughs. “How could I forget?”
You roll your eyes playfully. “Gosh, I thought you were so weird.”
“You were weirder.” She grumbles.
“You just thought all Americans were weird.”
“Because you guys are! I never saw so many overly confident basketball players who were so bad till’ I came here.”
The two of you laugh together for a moment, then it’s quiet again.
Your hand is excruciatingly close to hers, but neither of you move closer.
“Everything’s so different now.” Nika mumbles, almost to herself.
You turn your head to face her. Nika’s side profile is strong, prominent nose, perfect lips, sharp eyebrows and expressive eyes. Her cheeks are pink from being out in the sun. You have the urge to make them pinker, but you shake the thought away.
“Yeah. Everything is different…but that’s a good thing”
Nika nods solemnly, but you can tell she’s thinking hard.
“Niks, don’t worry too much okay? Things work out if they’re meant to.”
She brings a hand to her face, covering her eyes and muffling her voice, which slightly wavers when she says. “What if I don’t make it?”
With this you give in and take her hand, squeezing it tight for a moment.
“Baby they’re lucky to have you. One day with you and they’ll know you’re needed on that team. Everyone else knows it for sure.”
“Says who?” Her eyebrows furrow. “I can’t just assume this’ll work out. What if it doesn’t? What the fuck do I do then? All my work will have been for nothing.”
“If Seattle doesn’t see you as an asset to their team, then I assure you there’ll be another team just waiting for you. Everyone here knows how valuable you are as a player, and the internet wouldn’t let anyone forget.”
She isn’t very convinced, but she turns her head to meet your gaze. Her eyes remind you of a puppies eyes. “Thank you.” She says, sincere and slightly embarrassed. Her hand is still in yours and your noses are almost touching. You wonder if she’d ever talk to you again if you kissed her.
At the thought of that, your stomach sinks. You sit up suddenly, hand breaking from hers. You don’t see how her face drops when you do it.
“I-“ you start, but hesitate. You didn’t want to regret anything like this again. You wanted her to know every thought in your head, even if it had a chance of going sour. “I’m really gonna miss you Nika. More than anyone else, I think.” You finally manage to get out.
She sits up now too, her brown hair blowing in the salty wind, her almost hazel eyes glinting from the reflection of the water, or perhaps something else, something like hope.
“More than anyone else?” She questions you.
“Yeah.” You say, turning to meet her stare. “I’ve always liked you more than the others.”
“Hm.” She says, as if she was expecting more.
The silence is eating at you, you just want to scream out how badly you want her. You know it’s too late, when this trip is over everyone splits. You to your hometown, Aaliyah to Washington, Nika to Seattle, Paige and the others to Connecticut. Still, you didn’t want to live with this in you forever.
“I had a massive crush on you during freshman year.” You utter as confidently as possible.
Nika’s lips part in surprise “You- you did?”
“Yeah. Major.” You scoff. Those days were almost pathetic in hindsight, obvious to everyone but Nika and yourself.
You watch as Nika draws swirls in the sand with her finger. You can practically hear the gears turning in her head.
“And…when did this crush fade away?” She finally asks you.
You let a beat pass before sucking it up and saying. “It didn’t.”
Nika’s eyes really widen now. You hold her gaze as best as you can. “I never stopped liking you. It just got stronger overtime, actually.”
You almost recoil when she scowls at you.
“Fuck you.”
“What?”
“Fuck!” She rubs her face, exasperated. “You- urgh, I wish you told me. I wish you told me way, way earlier.”
You don’t say anything.
“I wish I knew. Don’t you get it?” She whines, almost pleadingly. “God, if you’d told me way earlier we could’ve…maybe we would’ve..” she trails off.
Finding out that Nika Mühl, your best friend and longest love, also loved you should’ve been the best moment of your life. Instead it had you thinking of everything that could’ve been.
“I was scared.” You mutter. “I was so, so scared, I don’t know why. I wish I’d just told you, but you know me. I never take chances. I pass the ball, I don’t make the shot. I just…I wouldn’t have been able to take it if you didn’t feel the same. So I never did anything.”
She’s close to you now, hand on your knee, face flushed.
“What are we gonna do?”
You stare at her face, eyes darting from her eyes, then lips, the her eyes again.
Her eyes are beautiful. Honey brown, golden in the sun but piercing now at dusk, eyelashes long and fluttering as she tries to make sense of this situation.
You’ve wanted her more than you’ve wanted that ring at the end of the National Tournament every single year. The thought of you wasting time that could’ve been spent pressed next to her, skin to skin and soul to soul? It was sickening to you.
Still, here she was. Eyes begging you for something you’ve dreamed of. The sky now staining the beach a violent pink.
When your mouth meets hers it’s everything you’ve fantasized about. Her lips are full and soft, fitting perfectly against your own. You can feel her lashes tickle your face as you tilt your head just right, her arms get goosebumps when you fiddle with her hair.
Pulling away from her, you can’t help but melt at the satisfied smile on her face.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Nika says. “I just wish it could’ve happened earlier.”
“I’m tired of wishing.” You say, putting a hand on her face gently. “We can’t change anything now. It’s over. But we have today.”
She drinks in the feeling of being this close to you. “We have now.” Nika whispers.
Your kisses are sweet and chaste at first, but it’s getting colder out and you need her warmth. She changes the pace, clashing into you with a sense of urgency now. When her mouth slightly opens and you feel her tongue against yours you know it’s over for you. She can have whatever she wants.
Nika finds herself straddling you now, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything that’s happening.
After four years of thinking of her before bed, before letting your hands take care of yourself night after night to the thought of her, here she was in all her glory. Body toned and breathing hard, hair sprawled against her tan skin, fingers untying her bikini top.
She leans into you, but instead of kissing you she puts her mouth to your ear. You can feel her smirk against your skin.
“How much of the past four years do you wanna bet I can make up for in one night?
#Spotify#fanfic#fanfiction#uconn wbb#light angst#angst with a happy ending#rpf#nika muhl x reader#nika muhl#nika mühl#uconn women’s basketball
133 notes
·
View notes
Note
could you write something about being coach bluder's granddaughter but not having any interest in basketball but you show up tp practice one day to surprise your grandma and Caitlin immediately has a crush on you?
Unexpectedly Unexpected ; Caitlin Clark ⸝⸝ ♡
summary : you are coach bluders granddaughter , what happens when Iowa’s star player has a little crush on you ? 👀
wc ; 774
warnings : none
my master list ㇀♡
a/n : hey guys! so happy to be back posting my cait fics , tysm for requesting this! Enjoy ◡̈
As the granddaughter of Coach Bluder, basketball has always been a huge part of your life. The sound of dribbling balls and squeaking snickers filled your childhood, as you spent countless hours watching from the bleachers, absorbing the excitement and intensity that came with it.
But despite this, basketball never really spoke to you. Yeah you enjoyed watching it, but it never really captured your interests like it did for the rest of your family. You instead pursued other passions, carving out your own path outside of the basketball world.
Years went by, and you found yourself living your own life, one that consisted of being away from the court. You still stayed in touch with your grandma, visiting her whenever you can and keeping up with her team's achievements and progress. One day, you decided to surprise her by showing up to a team practice, something you hadn't done in years.
As you walked into the gym, you were suddenly hit by a wave of nostalgia, with the sound of sneakers hitting the squeaky gym floor and the smell of the basketballs bringing you back to your childhood, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched the team scramble across the court.
Coach Bluder soon noticed you, breaking into a wide grin and soon rushing over to you to give you a big and loving embrace. The players, who had heard so much about you, welcomed you with open arms. Incredibly grateful and eager to meet the girl their coach had spoken so fondly of.
Among the players was Caitlin Clark, Iowa’s star point guard. Her talent on the court was undeniable of course, but it was her charisma and charm that truly set her apart from the rest. When she saw you, her eyes lit up, and she couldn't help but be completely drawn to you. Your presence engulfing her entirely and pulling the point guard in.
Throughout practice, Caitlin could not take her eyes off of you. She watched you closely as you interacted with the other players, laughing and joking with them as if you had known them for an entire lifetime. There was something about your easy going nature that captivated her, but couldn't put it into words.
After practice, she approached you, with a nervous grin displayed across her lips. She struck up a conversation, eager to learn anything about you. As you spoke, you found yourself to be completely drawn to her as well. Her passion for the game was infectious, and the way she herself spoke about it brought you to see basketball in an entirely new light.
In the following days, the brunette had taken you under her wing as you started to frequent their practices more often. As she showed you the ins and outs of the game, and introducing you to her teammates. You found yourself spending almost all your free time with her, being drawn to her enthusiasm and passion. Despite your initial disinterest in basketball, you couldn't help in being swept up by the excitement of it all.
As your bond with Caitlin grew stronger, so did her feelings with you. She found herself falling for you in ways that she never expected. Almost kissing on numerous occasions, she finally decided to bite the bullet and ask you the anticipated question.
After a victorious win for Iowa, she again approached you with the never grin she did when the two of you first met. You had noticed that she had been acting a bit strange all day, and you were curious as to what was on her mind.
“Hey..” she said, twirling her hair between her fingers. “I was wondering if…uhm, if you'd like to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?”
You were taken aback, not expecting for Caitlin to ask you out so directly. You could feel your cheeks getting red, and your heart skipping a beat as you tried to process her words, with a small smile spreading across your face.
“I would love to,” you replied, trying your best to try and contain your excitement.
The guard let out a sigh of relief, a wide grin soon appearing across her face. “Great! How does Saturday work for you? We could maybe catch a movie and grab dinner afterwards?”
“That sounds perfect,” you said, feeling a wave of calmness and content wash over you.
You soon walked away from the gym, hand in hand with Caitlin, and you couldn't help but feel extremely grateful for a sudden turn of events. Who knew that one simple visit would lead to such an exciting and promising future?
omgggg this is sooo cute!!! I promise im gonna start posting longer / more vague fics as i do have some series’s in the works! as always, tysm for reading! 😊❤️
#wlw#wlw imagine#wcbb#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x reader#wcbb x reader#headcannons#my hcs#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#kate martin#wnba draft#wnba#wnba basketball
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Rebound
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader
Word count: 3194
Summary: It's been a long time since Cooper has felt a loving touch. Perhaps a little too long because he's not entirely sure what to do with you.
CW: Semi-slow burn, smut, P in V, creampies, loving on a crispy man who needs it real bad. Prob ooc because this is my first fallout/reader fic ever (sowwy)
Cooper was a hard man to break. Downright standoffish and a straight-up jackass. At least that was what he was like when you first met him. Charismatic, confident, an excellent shot, but god, was he a prick. That, though, you had gotten used to the longer you traveled together. As the months dragged on, that standoffishness started to shed from the Ghoul.
It started with random small talk picking up between you two as you travel between settlements. For the first few months together, it was mostly silence or business talk traded between you. Who was the next bounty? Where were they last? Can you scavenge while I get intel? It was all just business. That was until one night, Cooper started making small talk between their travels. Then came the soft conversations by the fire when they settled for the night. Every week, the weight of that duster and those guns on his back seemed to lighten the more he talked to you. Then came the offered cantine of water on a scorching day. Already an out-of-the-ordinary gesture from him, more so because your cantine wasn’t empty and he was offering his for a sip.
You took it.
The small talk turned into jokes with hushed laughs between you. As Cooper drawled on, you watched him over the campfire's tip. The light it threw cast beautiful shadows along Cooper's features, and when that crooked ass grin warped his lips more and more, you felt a tinge in the center of your chest. A little candlelight flickering and quivering whenever he spoke in that long drawl. It blazed when his eyes flicked up at you, staring at you in a way that made it seem like he could see right through you. It was like he could see that candle burning just for him.
Now, when the two of you slept, you were no longer on opposite sides of the room. You both started to creep toward each other every night until you were only a few feet apart. Cooper never laid down when he slept. Instead, he leaned against the wall and semi-slouched. He’d tilt his hat downward until the brim hid his eyes. Finally, he would cross his legs and arms before drifting off. You, on the other hand, preferred your bedroll. While not much, it was still better than the barren floor or the questionable mattress they occasionally came across.
Tonight, a storm was coming through, bringing billowing winds and harsh rain that pounded the roof of the abandoned gas station they had sheltered in. You had tried hours ago to sleep, but the chill from the wind crept between the broken boards and cracked windows. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to get warm in any position. You flopped over one more time, now facing where Cooper was slouched against a wall a good two feet from you. His brim was cast down, covering his eyes as usual, but from how still he was, you figured he had fallen asleep a while ago.
Chewing your lip, you hesitated momentarily before scooting towards him and bridging the gap. Snuggling up against his hips and thighs, you sighed contently. He smelled of gunpowder and smoke, typical. Slumber tugged at your eyelids, and you finally drifted off within minutes.
A light sleeper for obvious reasons in this hellhole of a wasteland, Cooper had awoken the second you had touched his leg. He waited for you to settle before opening one eye halfway and staring down his brim at you. Studying your peaceful expression and how you pressed your nose into his thigh. Two rouge strands of your hair had fallen against your cheek, slightly curled at the tips.
A former version of himself would have shoved you away, telling you to git back to your side of the station. Except the current version of himself felt something swirling around in his chest. It was slightly uncomfortable but not all too unfamiliar.
It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for over a hundred years, something that longed for that little touch and craved so much more. It flopped around behind his ribcage, and he grits his teeth in annoyance.
Sighing and looking back down, he shifts gently. Bringing one hand down and outstretching two fingers, he tenderly brushes the hair strands behind your ear. With that, he recrosses his arms and sits back, eyes closing.
As the months continue, so do they, but Cooper is different at night. His expressions are somber, his eyes distant while he sharpens his knives. Deep in thought, sometimes it takes calling his name twice before he looks up at you.
“Coop, are you alright?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed together in concern. You were annoyed when he smiled and chuckled softly, telling you he was peaches and cream. You didn’t push the matter and didn’t have to because he mentioned his daughter three nights later.
He spoke slowly, hesitantly, wondering if he should even be saying any of this to you in the first place. He wasn’t a vulnerable man, not anymore, anyway.
He spoke, and you listened, night after night, as more pieces of the puzzle of this mystery man fell together. Under all those clothes and behind all those guns, Cooper was still just a man—an ordinary man.
“You’ll find her Coop,” Reaching over from where you were sitting at his side, you placed your hand on his wrist and gently squeezed it, “I know you will.”
Cooper didn’t respond, but a smile so tiny it almost went missed curved the corners of his lips.
As you lay in your bedroll that night, you felt something shift against your front. Opening your tired eyes halfway, you watched through blurry vision as Cooper lay down next to you. His back was to you, but you scooted against his spine without a second thought. Resting your cheek between his shoulder blades, you closed your eyes again.
Eventually, Cooper lay facing you. Without saying anything, he would hook your waist and tug you against his chest. Then, you would feel him resting his chin on your head. The first time he had done it, your face burned so hot you feared you might catch ablaze. If Cooper noticed, he didn’t say. No matter, you didn’t want him to stop, and you were sure he didn’t want you to, either.
In truth, Cooper would be lying if he ever said he didn’t like the sensation of your small palms against his chest. He loved how you played with the buttons on his dirty shirt until you fell asleep.
Each night, you did the same thing, chest to chest, until finally, one night, you nuzzled your face into the nook of Cooper's neck. Soft and plump lips grazed across his scarred skin before placing a gentle kiss on Cooper’s jawline.
Immediately, Cooper stiffened against you. You felt his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of your back pause. You heard him swallow suddenly, and your stomach sank as you expected him to push you away and scold you.
Instead, Cooper cleared his throat and nestled his chin harder against the top of your head.
Days in the wasteland dragged on usually, but the following days felt like an eternity since that night. Bounty after bounty, caps collected, and supplies scavenged, Cooper never once brought it up. Instead, he carried on as usual, which, in truth, made your heartache.
It was possible that even after all of this time, the candle he had ablaze in your chest was not mutually lit.
What you didn’t know was that Cooper's heart had bounced out of his chest and into his throat that night. He didn’t think it was even possible for his cheeks to flush, but damn, they felt hot. It was alien; over 200 years of feeling the kiss of bullets, he had forgotten what a real one felt like. It was incredible but also terrifying.
He had loved, and he had lost.
The nights following the kiss, Cooper waited for you to make a move again, but you didn’t. You slept with your back to him and didn’t move when he pressed against you and draped an arm over your waist. After a few minutes, he felt your fingers intertwine with him in a gentle grip.
The two of you stayed linked that night.
The following night, Cooper watched as you shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your boots, getting ready to sleep after a long day of tracking a bounty through the unforgiving sun. Reaching up, you released your hair from its loose bun and let your locks fall messily over your shoulders.
You half turned when you felt Cooper grab your hand. Watching him bring it to his lips, he kissed your palm and pressed your hand against his cheek.
The brim of his hat temporarily hid his eyes, but when he looked up at you, your heart fluttered. No words were exchanged as you slowly leaned forward, having to stand on your toes even to come close to his marred lips. Centimeters away, you paused, but Cooper filled the gap.
The first kiss was gentle, and your free hand came up to cup Cooper’s other cheek. When you broke away, it wasn’t for long. Reconnecting, your kisses became hungrier, and your hands on Cooper's cheeks drifted downward. Running over his neck, then his collar and chest. You worked your way down as he kissed you until you palmed at his groin.
“Wait,” Cooper pulled away suddenly, stepping back, “wait…fuck” He turned on his heels, pacing back and forth.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, watching him shake his head and curse to himself. “Coop?”
Once he stopped pacing, he sighed and shook his head before glancing over his shoulder at you.
“I don’t think I have it in me no more, sweetheart.” He laughed softly at himself.
“What do you mean?” Taking a step towards him, she watched as he finally turned to face her.
“It’s… been a long time. A really long time, sugar.” Too long, really, at least, that is what he thought anyway. Nobody had touched him like this since before the bombs. Nobody had loved him. The only thing he knew now was blood, bullets, and ass jerky.
“Coop,” You said softly, moving towards him and wrapping your arms around his towering frame, “let me take care of you for once.” There was silence before Cooper rested his chin atop your head and laughed. Slowly, his hands came up to rest on your hips, his thumbs dipping under the fabric of your shirt to rub at the soft skin there.
Looking up, you place a chain of kisses along his jawline. Meanwhile, one of your hands pressed against his back snaked back to his front. There, you worked your way down again until you felt the subtle tent in his pants. You palmed it gently, drawing out soft groans from your Ghoul. He shifted in place, sliding his chin off your head and burying his face between the nook in your neck. His hips lean forward into your touch, and you purr at that.
“That’s it,” you whisper, working the top button until it pops. Next, you slide his zipper down and slide your hand inside. “I’ve got you.”
Upon grabbing his stiffening cock, you feel him tense against you, even sagging a little bit as you start to stroke. Your thumb rubs over his swollen head, spreading the generous amount of precum around. You feel it pulse against your palm, and you can’t help but smile when Copper’s breath stutters against your neck.
“Fuck darling,” He drawls, “You know how to drive a man mad.” Bringing his hands up from your hips, Cooper knots his fingers into the back of your shirt. It doesn’t take long to have him unraveling. You can feel his thighs trembling and his grip tightening the closer he gets to release. Like butter, he is melting and fast.
Each new noise you pull from him causes a feverish heat to swell over your form. Your stomach flips, and you feel your heat clench with desire. As much as you would like to keep your composure, you lean into him, pressing your forehead into his shoulder as you stroke faster and faster.
The choked growl Cooper lets out is the only warning you get before hot fluid coats your palm and wrist. His hips lurch in your grip twice before he suddenly sags hard against your form. Finger still twisted in your shirt, he finally lets go and lets his arms swing heavily by his sides. His legs are like jelly, and it takes him a moment to stand up semi-straight, his hat slightly crooked. He looks drunk, his eyes glossy, that stupid ass grin you loved smeared across his lips.
“That good, huh?” Stepping back to give him a little breathing room, you pluck the first few buttons of your shirt open. Allowing your shirt to part and fall from your shoulders, your breasts become exposed. With your other hand, you reach down and open the first button of your pants.
“Well then,” You coo, “come on then bounty hunter.” You shimmy your pants and panties off, kicking them off to the side, leaving your form raw to his eyes. “Come and get it.”
There was no need to ask twice. Rushing forward, Cooper grabbed your hips and slammed your forms together. Your lips crashed together again and again, and you whined into his mouth, horribly needy. You didn’t doubt Cooper had seen the slick glistening on your inner thigh.
Pushing you backward, you allowed Cooper to guide you to your bedroll. Once close enough to it, he kicked his foot out, hooked his heel around your leg, and pulled it out from under you. As you fell backward, he fell with you, landing flat on his palms. Towering over you now, eyes ablaze as they drink in your beet red face and beautiful puffy pink breasts.
“You’ve been wantin' this for a while, haven’t yah?” Lifting one of his hands and pressing it against your soft belly, he drags it down towards your heat. Without warning, he slides his middle and ring finger through your folds, running over your sensitive clit. You gasp, tossing your head back.
“Ngh! Fuck!” Looking up between your bodies, you watch as Cooper drags his fingers up and down over and over, teasing your swelling clit. “Fuck Coop, fuck!”
“Well,” He growls, “Who am I to keep a lady waitin'?” Without warning, his middle and ring finger coast downward and dip deep into your gushing cunt. The squeal that escapes your lips has Cooper chuckling. He presses deep into you, humming as your walls grip his digits.
Burying himself knuckle deep over and over, a squelching noise is followed by each hand thrust. You lift and twist your hips from the intense waves of pleasure. Only when you feel Cooper withdraw his fingers do you flop down, panting harshly.
Through half-lidded and blurry eyes, you watch Cooper bring his hand between you. He inspects them before spreading his two fingers apart, a tendril of thick fluid connecting them.
“You get this wet for everybody else? Or just little o’l me?”
Turning your head away in embarrassment, you feel Cooper grip your chin and return your gaze to him.
“Eyes on me.” He growls as he rolls his hips forward, running his stiff cock between your slick folds. The head bumps your clit, and for a moment, you think you see stars. Over and over again, he grinds against you, littering your chest with kisses in the meantime.
When you finally feel him lean back and press his head against your opening, he hesitates.
“It’s okay,” you whisper as you place your hand on his cheek and run your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’ve got you.” Sliding both arms around his neck, you gently tug him into your warm embrace. One hand rugs between his shoulder blades while your other rubs the back of his neck.
Allowing himself to lean forward, he nuzzles into the side of your neck before biting the soft flesh.
Rolling his hips forward, he breaches and slides into you with ease. Gasping and choking out a soft cry, you feel him bury himself to his hilt. Hip connected to hip for a brief moment, he finally drags himself out. Rolling forward, the pase is slow, perhaps even loving, before your Ghoul gets hungry.
It doesn’t take long before your hips are slapping together. You can’t stop the sobs of pleasure that break past your lips with each sharp snap of his hips. Digging your nails into his shoulder blades, you feel your eyes cross when the head of his cock punches that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves.
“Oh fuck, Cooper!” Your back arches off of your bedroll, “F-fuck! I’m… I’m” The hot waves of pleasure radiating from your belly to your groin all the way down your trembling thighs to your toes are winding too tight. “I’m gonna cum!”
He didn’t slow down and instead angled himself better to strike that little bundle of nerves that had your eyes rolling back. It took two hard hits before he felt your beck snap into a tight arch. He felt your chest bump hard against him, and your hips twisted to the right as your climate ripped you apart.
Head thrown back, mouth wide open, no sound came out of you as your climax held you prisoner.
Above, Cooper's thrusts started to become sloppy, losing their rhythm as your cunt clamped down on him spasmodically. As much as he tried to hold on, it had been too long, and you had felt too good.
Grunting hard into the side of your neck, you felt a warmth bloom in your groin as Cooper spilled everything he had left into you. He slammed your hips together, holding you in place and burying himself as deep as he could, pumping you full. The sensation had goosebumps blooming across your skin as your body finally deflated back down against the bedroll.
With eyes half-lidded and glossy, you made out the foggy shape of Cooper still hunched over you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Every other breath was a soft wheeze. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and a droplet fell and landed on your chest.
Leaning back and sliding himself from your heat, a thick flood of cum followed. You shivered at the sensation and watched as Cooper lowered himself against your form. Resting his head between your breasts, he inhaled sharply and sighed.
Lovingly, you stroked the back of his neck, enjoying the sensation of his hot breath against your breast.
Together, you lay like that while listening to the rain from a passing storm plink against the tin roof.
When you looked down, Cooper's eyes were closed, and his breathing had finally leveled. Letting your head fall back, you closed your own eyes and smiled.
For once, the wasteland was at peace.
#fallout#fallout amazon#cooper howard#the ghoul#cooper howard x reader#this is my first ever character x reader fic I've ever written#so im new to this kinda fic but know I tried#also please#my asks are open for requests#I purchased premium Grammarly just to start writing more so please... give me fuel#I have another ghoul fic on the back burner where he is self servicing himself tee hee stay tooned
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
The very first night | L.M.
Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader
Summary: after a few months of dating Minho, you two finally have your very first night.
Genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers
Words count: ± 3,200
THIS ONE AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
If you like my content don't forget to ✨reblog✨
Warnings: virgin!Minho, virgin!reader, very sloppy and eager sex, unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral(F receiving), biting(I think that's all)
A/N: I was reading this fic by @moonlinos and had this thought: "what would be like to have your first time with inexperienced bf Minho" and it came out like this 🥺 I'd like to tell @/moonlinos that I just found out about your blog and your writing is amazing, you're really an inspiration 🫶🏻
You met Minho on your first day of college, you were lost in the campus trying to find the orientation room when you bumped into someone, letting your books and bag fall to the floor.
It was your fault, you were looking around and didn't see the man coming in your direction. You apologized right away, more preoccupied with picking up your things rather than looking in his face but he didn't answer you, waiting for you to properly look him in the eyes.
To say that you two hit it off instantly when your eyes met his, it's an understatement. You even blinked a few times making sure you weren't dreaming. That guy was the prettiest man you have ever seen and it's not even an exaggeration. He was wearing a light pink sweater with a white dress shirt below, dark blue jeans and all stars. It was an outfit that would look average in anyone else but it looked like a masterpiece in him.
You didn't want to let him go so in the spur of the moment, you asked if he knew where to find the orientation for your major, just to find out he was also going there. After that day you two got closer like it was nothing, you were never good at making friends but it seemed so natural with him, like it just happened you didn't have to put a lot of effort into it.
You first realized your feelings for him when he told you he had a date coming up. You felt like throwing up and the ache on your chest just made the whole situation more excruciating.
You avoided him for a week after that, trying to convince yourself that you weren't in love with him or at least that you could pretend not to be in love with him.
When he showed up at your dorm in the middle of the night looking extremely tired, eye bags under his eyes and hair a mess, he inquired why you were being like that and you suddenly didn't want to pretend anymore. You decided in the split of a second that it was worth it to confess to him, so you did.
He blinked once, twice and for a third time, not letting out a single word, making you suddenly regret everything that you said to him. What if he wanted to end your friendship? You don't think you could handle losing him as your friend too.
But in an unexpected turn of events he stepped close to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you.
“I thought you didn't like me back”, he whispered after pulling away, breathless. “That's why I was trying to move on”
You felt relief wash all over you, so he liked you back it seems.
After months of dating, you still hadn't gone beyond kissing and some light touching. You always let things flow in your relationship, knowing that you two would give the next step when you were ready. And it was sooner than you expected.
The end of the semester had arrived, finals were finally over and you could take a deep breath. You and Minho would meet in the cafe in front of the college gates, grab some coffee and go back to his apartment to watch some movies and cuddle. His roommates would be out tonight partying to celebrate the end of the semester and the apartment would be just yours.
“Fried chicken or pizza?” He asks, scrolling on his phone while selecting something to order.
“Fried chicken?” You ask back, making him glare at you. He hates how indecisive you are so he always tries to give you few options.
“Ordered”, he tells you.
“I'm gonna take a shower”, you get up going to the bathroom.
Your bath is a bit longer than usual, you are not in a hurry today since you can stay up all night and sleep all day tomorrow but when you open your eyes there's a surprise in the wall next to you.
“Minho!” You yell, screaming like you just saw a ghost. You grab a towel and jump to the other side of the bathroom, watching as your boyfriend swings the door open, worry in his face.
When he looks at you and sees you are safe and sound, he scowls.
“What is it?” He rushes you, impatiently.
You point out in the bathroom, tears in your eyes.
“Did you make all this scandal because of a cockroach?” He asks, huffing but goes after it and kills it for you.
“You know I hate them”, you make a disgusted face. “They are gross”
He sighs, just now paying attention to you and noticing that you have only a towel covering you. You only remember that fact when his cheeks and ears turn pink and you look down, instantly covering your chest.
“Don't look!” You whine, hiding behind the door.
“Okay! Okay!” He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around and closing the door.
What follows after that is an awkward atmosphere, you are boyfriend and girlfriend but never have seen each other naked. You know it's something that is certain to happen but you never really discussed much about it.
You decide to address the issue when you are already on your second glass of soju. You look at him challengingly, narrowing your eyes.
“I think I should see you without a shirt since you have seen me too”, you tell him. It's not what you wanted to say, you wanted to ask if he ever thought about your first time but the moment you were going to say it you chickened out.
“I haven't seen you without a shirt though”, he says, “you were covered by a towel”
“But that's the equivalent of me being naked in front of you, so now you have to pay me back”, you roll out your words, trying to form a coherent sentence. You're not drunk enough to be doing that but you're definitely embarrassed enough to be doing that.
Minho sighs, knowing you won't drop it. So he puts his hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling it off, revealing his abs.
You can feel your cheeks burning, you have never seen him without a shirt and the only thing that comes to your mind to describe him is: tempting.
You gulped down, feeling a strange pool form in your panties, you can feel it getting soaked.
“I think now it's your time to pay me back”, he raises a brow, making you bite nervously on your bottom lip.
“I'm not wearing a bra”, you whisper, feeling your heart beat faster at each passing second.
“I wasn't either”, he jokes, making you punch him in the arm. When Minho doesn't look away, staring at you intensely, you realize he's being serious about that so you gather all the courage you have, grabbing the rem of your — well, it's actually his, shirt and pulling it off, letting it fall down to the ground as you become completely mesmerized by the look on his face.
Minho has his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, lust emanating out of him. You can see his chest rise and fall at a fast pace.
“Can… Can I touch you?” He asks, looking into your eyes desperately and you nod, watching as he comes closer, cupping your breasts with both of his hands. He's on his knees in front of you, kneading on the soft flesh of your chest. Minho pinches your nipple, groaning when you let a moan escape. He's sure it's the prettiest sound he has ever listened to.
He leans over you, taking your lips into his. The way he kisses you stays the same, calm and gentle. He trails wet kisses down your jaw, to your neck, seizing the opportunity to mark you with his teeth, something he loves to do and that's the closest he has ever been to your chest until today. He goes down tracing kisses till he's in front of your breasts, Minho kisses the hill between them and attaches his mouth to the right one, still massaging the left one, pinching the bud eventually because likes to hear you whimper and sigh.
Your hands go to his hair, pressing him against your chest. You have your eyes closed shut, probably an unflattering face of pure pleasure but you really don't care. Minho sucks at your other breast before going down, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.
You're embarrassed, no one has ever seen you so vulnerable like that and you really want to have him go down on you but you're a bit scared since your friends always talk about how guys find it a hassle to go down on girls. You know Minho is not an asshole, he won't want you to do the same to him if he can't pleasure you first.
“Can I?” He asks when he notices your hesitancy, his fingers are hooked at the waistband of your sweats, playing with the elastic while you decide if you'll let him continue.
“You don't have to feel obligated”, you bite on your bottom lip, not very sure on what to do next.
“I don't, I really want to do it”, he says, but seeing as you don't look like you believe him, he chuckles. “Chan said he really enjoys going down on his girlfriend, I wanted to try it since we started dating but didn't know how to ask”, you can see his ears turning a dark shade of red, making your heart beat faster.
You nod, feeling more nervous than before.
“Can we kiss a little bit more?” You ask and he nods frantically.
“We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready”, he says, hovering over you and kissing your neck.
“I'm ready”, you cup his face, making him look at you. “I'm just nervous”, you chuckle awkwardly.
“It's fine”, he gives you a peek on the lips. “Should we move to the bed?” He asks and you nod, getting up as Minho collects your things and his, following you to his bedroom.
It takes you half an hour of making out to grab Minho's hand and pull it down to your core, you lift the waistband of your sweats and panties so his hand can find your soaked pussy. He slides one of his fingers between your folds gathering your slick and pressing it on your clit.
“Is it good like this?” He asks, even though your face should give it in right away that he's pleasuring you.
“Yes, please don't stop”, you put your hands on his arms, digging your nails on his skin. Minho chuckles, doing what you asked but also adding another finger, making you open your eyes in an instant to stare at him with wide eyes. “Oh”, it's the only thing you can let out when you feel the knot forming on your lower stomach.
He kisses you, turning the experience into something much more deeper. By the way he kisses you, no longer the calm and gentle but now an eager and hungry kiss, you can feel how urgent he's feeling, how much he wants you and that's enough to make you come on his fingers.
You take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes just to witness your boyfriend putting his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. You gulp, feeling a burn run through your body.
“Can I go down on you now?” He asks, eyeing you eagerly and you nod, still too dazed by your orgasm.
Minho doesn't lose time, moving to your bottom part and pulling off your pants and underwear with him. He looks at your pussy enamored, like you're the prettiest creature he has ever seen and that makes you embarrassed, moving your hands to cover yourself but your boyfriend shakes his head, preventing you from continuing.
“Don't cover yourself. You're so beautiful, I have no words to describe it”, he tells you, eyes so sincere you can't even tease him about lying.
You nod once more, laying down comfortably as he trails kisses up your legs. Minho kisses your ankles, then your calves. He follows the path to your knees, kissing the inside of each and then going to your thighs, doing the same thing. When he leans down on your core, you hold your breath, feeling his hitting on your skin. You have goosebumps all over your body when he kisses your clit, making you sigh and let go.
Minho licks a huge strip between your folds, gathering all the juice he can get on his tongue, enjoying your taste. You moan loudly, earning a glance from him, he was so concentrated by his own pleasure on feeling your pussy on his mouth that he forgot to check what was your reaction and he's glad to find that you're enjoying yourself, hands flying to his hair as you pull him more into your cunt. He keeps licking your clit, sucking and even biting just to make you shudder glaring at him. He chuckles every time, making the vibrations stimulate you even more.
Minho puts on a finger, testing the water to see how you react, he puts on another one when you look unbothered by just one, earning a reaction from you as you whine and moan. You can feel your second orgasm of the night being ripped out of you, as he intensifies his sucking on your clit and his fingers thrusting inside you.
You let out the louder couple of moans of the night, holding onto the sheets for dear life as you tremble and arch your back in pleasure. You're absolutely fucked out and have no idea how Minho can keep going, his hair is a mess and his lips are swollen, his face is covered on your juice from his mouth until his chin. When he kisses you again, you can feel your own taste on his tongue, making you groan.
You can feel his hardness pressing against your leg. He still has his pants on looking painfully tight.
“You wanna keep going?” He asks and you nod, biting on your lip. “I think Chan has some condoms stocked, I'm gonna take a look”, he starts moving out of the bed but you hold his wrist, pulling him back to you.
“I'm on the pill”, you bite on your bottom lip, “I’ve been taking it since we started dating”, you prop yourself up, leaning on your elbows as you kiss him, “wanna feel you”, you say, making his breath hitch and his face turns red.
He nods, blinking a few times before leaning over to kiss you once more. His body hovers over yours as he positions himself between your legs, his cock teasing your entrance carefully.
“If it hurts, tell me”, he checks with you for the last time and you nod. He starts pushing his cock inside you, your hands are holding him by the shoulders, digging your nails on him but he doesn't seem to mind.
He closes his eyes briefly, feeling your velvet walls squeezing him so much it's hard to keep going. Minho stops when he hears you sniff, opening his eyes just to find your eyes full of tears and trembling lips.
“Am I hurting you? You should say it if I am”, he scolds you gently, something only he can do.
“The first time is supposed to hurt”, you explain.
“But I can do something to make it hurt less if you tell me what you're feeling”, he kisses your forehead, having all the care to not move inside you.
“You're already making it so much more comfortable”, you smile, kissing his nose.
“Maybe you should be on top, that way you can have the control”, he tells you and you ponder for a minute, nodding.
He pulls out of you, making you whine to the sudden loss, making you feel empty. Minho chuckles, kissing you before laying down to watch you be the one to come on top of him.
You grab his cock, position it in your entrance and push it in. You're much more brave than him, Minho thinks, but also you're the one who knows how much pain you can handle so it's only right for you to have the control — at least on your first time.
You sink down on his cock slowly, making him grab the sheets rather than your hips, too afraid to put too much pressure on you and hurt you. Your face tells him you're in pain, but he knows there's not much he can do about it other than soothe you. So he caresses your back with one hand and your face with the other, sliding his hands to your breasts and kneading at them so you can at least relax a bit.
When you finally have all of him inside of you, you sigh, staying still for a couple of minutes. Minho feels like he can explode at any second, you're squeezing him like crazy but he doesn't want to hurry you so he waits for you to move.
You start grinding on him, rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone and trying to relax the most. After a while the pain is almost not perceptible and you start riding him at a fast pace.
“Fuck, you feel so good”, Minho says, finally grabbing at your hips to pull you down on him.
You can't really form coherent sentences, so the chant of “ah-ah-ah” followed by your kisses on him and you marking his chest is the biggest form of communication you can manage at the moment.
Minho thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen, he thought that the moment your eyes lock for the first time and he'll think that until you two are too old to remember what you ate the day before.
When he feels like he's about to cum, he warns you and you nod to let him know you understand but keeps sinking down on him even deeper. He paints your walls white while trembling, his bottom lip stuck between his bunny teeth as he holds your hips with such strength that you know it's gonna bruise. But you don't mind, not at all.
You didn't cum this time, it wasn't as painful as it could be but still painful enough to not edge you.
“I'm sorry you didn't finish”, he pouts as you pull out of him and snuggle yourself in his arms.
“You made me come twice”, you chuckle, making him smile before kissing the top of your head.
“But I wanted to do it a third time”, he huffs.
“We have all the time in the world”, you tell him, resting your chin on his chest as you watch him grin.
“Yes, now you're mine forever”, he giggles to your widened eyes.
“Should I be worried?” You ask and he shakes his head.
“You were already mine from the start, you just didn't know it yet”, he kisses you, pulling away just to stare at you for a few seconds. “I love you”, he confesses and you feel your cheeks burning.
“I love you”, you say, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again.
#skz#stray kids#stray kids scenarios#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids imagines#skz scenarios#skz smut#lee know x you#lee know fluff#lee know x y/n#lee know x reader#lee know scenarios#lee know smut#skz lee know#lee know skz#lee know imagines#skz x y/n#skz x you#stray kids x you
38 notes
·
View notes
Note
ITS MANDARIN WARRIOS AGAIN I KNOW I JUST SENT IN TRANS WARRIORS HEADCANNONS BUT I HAVE MORE (shout out to my cousin for helping come up with this):
anyways
CW for extremely implied (like two or three lines) of trans/homo/queer-phobia
the chain goes to gerudo town and they stop at the kara kara bazaar where wild explains that they need vai outfits since they don't let men in (or if TOTK has happened, he can't let men in with him, even if he has clearance) and the group has varying reactions, from sure whatever (legend, hyrule, twilight, time), HELL YEAH/sure, that sounds kinda fun (sky, wind, four,) and the captain just stares at the outfit for a second an quietly nods. in fact, he's weirdly quiet the whole visit to the female city. Time seems in tune with whatever is going on with captain, and gives a tiny "don't" sort of gesture at one point when twilight tries to talk to the captain.
Legend, who wears skirts all the time, who's worn dresses and cheerleader outfits and you name it, gets worried for a different reason. while most of his hyrule either wasn't there or didn't care, he's run into quite a few people (creatures? beings?) who don't hold the same values, and legend thinks the captain has finally snapped and has secretly been a raging homophobe the whole time. (no, legend does not have trust issues wdym)
legend takes warriors out on a "night patrol" after seeing him pace and fidget and pick at the outfit for the 16th million time. they walk pretty far out, far enough that the lights of the city no longer dim the sparkling night sky. legend stops dead in his tracks and turns to warriors like: "dude if you're really gonna be a hateful piece of dookie then i will make your life miserable again because i will not let you hurt my brothers like that" and warriors, who's dealing with awful dysphoria rn, whos super uncomfortable because people kept staring at his burn scars, who hates the hot sun and the itchy desert and is super overstimulated just breaks down bc he thinks he's been betrayed by another brother.
Legend is very surprised bc he was expecting to fistfight a bigot not consoling his brother who has planted himself down against a rock and his melting down in front of his eyes. warriors awkwardly explains whats really going on, and legend feels supers guilty and embarrassed for thinking so poorly of his brother. blah blah feels, cheesy stuff, they talk, then they start making there way back to the inn, after a promise from legend to keep quiet. to make it up to him, the next day legend decides to go drinking with wars since time and twi are needed for something else (up to reader what that thing is) yada yada hurt/comfort, the end
(Bonus: warriors helps legend pick out skirts and dresses because he has a much better eye for fashion -though legend would never admit it- and knows how the sizing works and what pieces go where, and they bond over the lack of pockets)
-mandarin warriors
:)
THE LITTLE “:)” AT THE END OF THAT WAS DIABOLICAL.
im absolutely obsessed with this, i need to write a fic about wars being trans because trans wars is something that is so incredibly real to me
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alien Day falls in Lesbian Visibility Week, so that means I need to write for the lesbian Crowlien au because we love monster women here. Even though this story technically takes place before Aziraphale mutates into an alien.
I just wanted to write a little soft fluff with them before shit happened. Even if there is mentioning of what happens post-alien encounter.
On with the fic!
--
Crowley was grinning as she crossed through the ship's halls, looking for the medical wing. She had something hidden behind her back as she slipped past an irritated looking Furfur, nearly dropping it when he almost tripped her. "Whoa! Who pissed in your cornflakes?" She sniffed, giving him a look.
Furfur looked back at her, clucking his tongue. "Just the annoying, forgetful redhead who, once again, left me doing her job!"
Crowley blinked, then considered what he meant. "You went and fixed the issue with the lights in med bay?"
"Yes. Which your... wife kept trying to get you to fix!" He spat the word 'wife' out as if it tasted terrible. God, he was never going to get over Crowley rejecting him, is he? "Apparently she'd been trying to contact you all morning, and you didn't answer any of her calls."
"Was busy with that repair job Gabe's was bitchin' about at dinner last night, the one he told me I had to do first thing in the mornin', remember?" Crowley stuck out her tongue at him. "Anyway, I need to go and see my wife about something more important than the malfunctionin' lights in the keyboard of her computer! Ta~!"
She cackled and ran to Aziraphale's office, slapping the door button, watching it slide open.
Aziraphale was inside, typing away at her computer with just her index fingers. It's amazing how much of an old lady she could be, even at her age, it was so cute. She seemed so focused on whatever she typing that she hadn't noticed Crowley or the door opening.
Crowley chuckled softly, leaning against the door frame, waiting for her wife to finally notice.
In three... two...
"Oh! Darling!" Aziraphale looked up, smiling brightly. "I didn't hear you come in!"
"Course not, too busy doin' nerdy medical stuffy, eh?"
"Hush you." Aziraphale replied, then pouted. "Where were you? I've been trying to contact your communication device all morning! Did you forget to charge it again?"
"One, no, it was charged, remember? You saw me plug it in. Two, just call it a comm, angel, no one calls it a 'communication device'." Crowley moved from the door, hearing it shut behind her, hands still kept behind her back as she approached the desk.
"And I was fixin' that thing for the captain, cause if I didn't, you know he'd hound me for it all fuckin' day."
"Ah, that is true." Aziraphale said, then glanced to the side, trying to see what Crowley was hiding. "What's that?"
Crowley grinned. "Do you know what day it is?"
Aziraphale blinked owlishly behind those little glasses she wore when reading. "Tuesday?"
"Well, yes, but the date?"
"It's August..." She glanced at her calendar, then gasped. "It's my-!"
"Happy birthday!" Crowley shouted, holding out the yellow gift bag she had been trying to keep hidden.
Aziraphale stood up, looking so excited as she walked around the desk. "Oh, you clever snake, you didn't have to get me anything!"
"Too late, got it right before we left, so I clearly can't take it back! WAAAAYYYY past the thirty day return limit!"
The doctor laughed and kissed Crowley on the cheek before taking the bag, looking inside. "Oh, oh Crowley..." She pulled out a book, one that was clearly old, but in a very well-kept condition. "Is this...?"
"A first edition copy of Persuasion? Your favorite book? It might be."
"Darling, this is just... it's too much!"
"Nothing is too much for my wife, my favorite person, my beloved angel." Crowley smiled, holding her close, kissing her neck. "Do you like?"
Aziraphale set the book and bag on her desk, then leaned into the hold, kissing her right on the lips. "I love it. I love you. You make me so happy."
Crowley kissed her on the forehead. "Good, when you're happy, I'm happy. I love you too, angel."
--
Crowley looked at the pages in front of her, having paused mid-sentence in her reading aloud of the book. She heard the soft sounds of Aziraphale sleeping, felt the warm, moist breath through those terrifying teeth against her shirt where her wife was resting her head.
She grabbed for the bookmark nearby, slipping it into place, then closed the book. She looked at the cover, seeing the single word of the title. It was still in good condition, minus tiny tears from where Aziraphale had tried to grab it in her clawed hands.
It bothered her to not be able to hold her precious books anymore, but Crowley was there to do that, to help her enjoy them by reading the stories aloud. Granted, Crowley didn't often like the books Aziraphale enjoyed, some of them were so gloomy, but it made her wife happy, and that's what Crowley enjoyed most.
She sighed softly, setting the book aside, looking at bone-white locks of messy hair, at a face that seemed more like a skull than the cherubic face she was used to, but she still saw her wife there, that beautiful angel she married.
Things would never be like that birthday when Aziraphale got her book, when it had been such a good day, only for things to go to shit just two weeks later.
But that was alright, Crowley still had Aziraphale, even if she was a bit different than before. Her angel was happy, even like this, and that meant Crowley was happy.
--
Something sweet, before all hell broke loose.
Also, yes, Crowley reads to Aziraphale now, it's so hard for her to do it herself.
Oh, I really like the idea that Furfur has feelings for Crowley, who has been married to Aziraphale for years. Sir, move on, you're never gonna get the girl. (Also, you die anyway, but still).
#good omens#ineffable wives#ineffable spouses#crowlien au#anthony j crowley#crowley#aziraphale#john's drabbles
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
“ ࣭⸰ ★ GARDEN SONG . . .
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ブルーロック ; itoshi rin x fem reader (6.8k)
⊹ ⠀⠀ rin's never been in love. he's never had the right to fall in love. so when sae is betrothed to a foreign princess, he doesn't bat an eye. you're just like every other girl who's attempted to marry his half-brother; yet, for some odd reason, he can't seem to shake you off. his heart aches thinking of you, despite how heated you make his head. he hates you. no. he loves you. no. rin doesn't know what he feels.
contains; royalty au, e2l, sfw, bastard prince!rin, princess!reader, reader is betrothed to sae, slowburn, rin calls reader names (like lowkey sexist sometimes), lots and lots of worldbuilding (bear with me please), forbidden love, swearing?, some sexual innuendos, kind of like...medieval dialogue??, tw rin literally calls reader a breeding ground like..., reader is very princess kaguya coded, some princess kaguya references near the end
author's note; literally dropping this out of nowhere sorry lol :3 i think this is my best piece of writing i've like ever produced so pls give it a chance n enjoy it! i rewrote the whole thing today in present tense,, so there might be tense errors
⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀this part of the fic is about 2 1/2 years old
⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀originally a keiji akaashi fic,, lmk any name errors
⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀extremely descriptive worldbuilding writing,, (heads up) if it's not ur thing then u likely won't enjoy reading this
⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!
It’s humorous to Rin— the perception that titles and notability have complete control over one’s life, obligations, and status. The pure and blind belief that every problem or issue can be solved with a man on the throne; a man whose birthright has always stated that that is where he belongs. Where he’ll rule and live out his days, utterly unhappy and self-sacrificing all for the benefit of people, his people, that he doesn’t even know. Strangers. Where he’ll wear a weighted crown encrusted in sapphires and jade, bound to strands of hair that’ll be ripped out if he dare defy his solemn promise to protect his kingdom. The crown must always be worn with pride and honor— the two things in the unspoken king’s code that every man of status is expected to follow— two simple things that seem impossible in Rin’s eyes.
Yes, he’s been raised according to the precept of manners and fulfillment of duties, but there’s something of the way his own father seems so distant and disconnected from the world around him— from the connections and relationships that he should be closer with— that makes the idea of being emperor completely disheartening. It’s completely and utterly horrid to Rin when he compares a life of golden chains to his dreams of travel and adventure.
It’s for the best that he’s nothing but a bastard child, then.
Prince Rin of the Itoshi family is nothing if not a black sheep. He’s a man who gentlemen aren’t envious of and whom women never lust for. He’s simply a royal with no drive, no meaning to motives or dreams, and no purpose to carry him onwards. Fortune and prosperity have never and will never be the necessary materials for his happy ending— but freedom and individualism, two contrasting colors amidst blocks of the same shade, speak his language. For in his situation, there’s no point in slaving away his natural qualities in hopes of gaining an ounce of respect from his parents.
The second born bastard child is but a shadow of a man when he stands behind the true heir—his half brother, Sae. The golden child, the pure-bred son of the true royal bloodline coming from their shared father’s genes. Sae, the future Emperor of Japan.
An emperor who’s bound to be married off to an unsuspecting princess who’s just recently come of age, and live happily ever after with their countless children. It sounds positively dreadful, doesn’t it? A life that’s been bestowed upon all of the men that have come before Sae— a life void of real love and connection, one that pleasures the theory of bountiful rulings in retrospect to genuine happiness. A life that Rin has never wanted for himself, and has been lucky enough to avoid.
But as his brother stands opposite to him, with his head held high as he’s about to meet his betrothed for the very first time, Rin feels pity.
It’s a sorrowful sight for Sae and the predicament that he’s been cornered into, but Rin knows his brother does not want his comfort. Their broken bond has been laced with new threads of sadness after years and years of competition— yet, everyone still deserves a choice in their future, in their loved ones, and that choice is being taken away from the crowned prince with every second ticking by.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The time is now.
As the courtroom doors burst open, gold and silver accents vanish from sight. Five guests gracefully enter the palace— that of two guards, a handmaiden, a king, and the most important arrival…you. You, the princess of the neighboring royal family from the South. The royal family that will be merging with Rin’s father’s in a legal binding between you and Sae— the infamous royal wedding of the century.
“What an honor it is.” Emperor Itoshi greets your father with a firm stare.
The two men analyze one another, squaring out in a power strike before stepping forwards for a decisive handshake. As their palms clap together, Rin can see that this king is much different than his father— seemingly gentle, showcasing a non-plastic smile that’s true and bright whilst his daughter stands behind him— and Emperor Itoshi smiles back. “It’s truly spectacular to finally meet you; well, you and the princess, of course.”
At his words, your father grins and extends his arm out to you, encouraging you to step away from your trusted handmaiden and towards your future father-in-law— the man who’s retiring his lifelong title in a mere two months for the sake of passage that’s occurred for centuries. A sacred passage between fathers and sons, full blooded fathers and sons.
“Your majesty,” you bow your head.
As you curtsy in respect, your skirt drapes to the floor— the gown’s extravagance dusting the marble tiles, shimmering beneath the dense candlelight, and reflecting off the mirror and shined surfaces scattered across the ballroom. Despite the perception of beauty and grace that his father and brother seem to share for you, Rin peaks through the cracks of your facade. He can tell this regal persona you’re displaying is nothing but an act. Your stoic expression speaks all he needs to know, that everything about you is princess protocol and lacking personality, and proper folk have never been his usual cup of tea.
While he’s been ordered to entertain ladies of the court and women in the social ring for years-on-years, there wasn’t one occurrence where he actually obeyed his father’s demands— rather string along every maiden sent his way and bid them farewell after a night or two of endless, droning conversation; that and perhaps a few turns in and out of his bed chambers, which is a fact that is infamous among the palace staff. Rin disregards them, though. Tuning others out is his speciality. He uses it in daily conversation, diplomatic meetings, as well as other important matters such as the one happening now, right in front of him. Just a few feet away.
This is pointless.
Why is he being forced to be here?
It’s not like you're his bride.
Rin doesn’t even bother to tune into the presumptuous meeting of you and Sae. They don’t involve him in any way nor does he care for either of you. Typically, most others don’t give him the time of day, so who’s to say that they deserve it from him? The only thing he owes to others is his mere existence as the kingdom’s greatest mistake— all to remind the ton that there is a good and gracious prince, and they should be grateful that he is to be their ruler and not Rin.
Rin, whose birthright is to stand still and respond to his father’s wishes with no choice other than to agree.
So, as the decadence concludes with the bowing of heads and nods of approval dispersing amongst royals and servants, Rin thinks nothing of the way you and Sae stand beside one another in light conversation.
It’s desperate. The sight of you attempting to find a sliver of mutual interest or some sort of connection that binds the two of you other than royalty, makes him look in disdain. He’s grateful that he won’t be the one spending the rest of his already grey life with you, ruling the kingdom.
You aren’t really his type.
“Rin!” Sae’s voice rings through the courtroom, his eyebrows raise in expectancy as he ushers his half-brother towards his bride-to-be, wanting to introduce the two that’re going to be living in close proximity for the weeks to come. “Do come close, I’d like you to meet my bride. Perhaps you’ll find something in common and make a friend for once, for this girl can’t be another one of your whores.”
Typical Sae.
Whether the dig was intentional or unintentional, Rin grimaces at his brother’s words—pursing his lips into a tight smile and closing his eyes in an attempt to disguise his disdain with faint exhaustion.
“Apologies, my brother. I’m afraid I’m rather tired and would prefer to return to my quarters.” Rin nods towards the two of you in respect. “Do enjoy her company, yourself. I’m sure the two of you will be sharing personal physical matters in the near future— best to be comfortable.”
With a quick turn of his heel, he carries on, making his way towards the exit of the throne room, to his grand living quarters— quarters that are fit for a bastard prince such as himself. However, his rancid suggestions aren’t left unanswered, instead contemplated by you as he hears your light voice speak to his brother. Rin hates first impressions. Not because he gets anxious or worried about being disliked; but because he already knows whoever he’s speaking to already knows his history. They know the truth of his bloodline, and they’re never afraid to step on his already small ego. You’re no different.
“So the rumors are true then?”
You speak aloud in a low tone, deciding the best words to use, and phrasing your statements in the most respectful manner you can muster— not wanting to offend Sae in any way, shape, or form while you address his little brother.
“Your brother is not the royal he’s made out to be?” As your voice trails off, regret immediately overcomes you as the subject of conversation stops dead in his tracks.
A scoff escapes his lips, head tilting to the left as your remark settles beneath his skin— hitting that special little spot that enrages every buried emotion, feeling, and reaction in his heart.
Rin spins on his heel with a manic look on his face as he analyzes the regret hidden in your weary posture; which is in great contrast to the confidence and poise you’d displayed a mere seconds before— poise that appears to be only a facade, a mystery that he’d gladly uncover if he actually cared just an ounce about your wellbeing. Taking long strides towards you, ignoring the words of concern from his half-brother, he stops to a halt at your feet— giving you nowhere to avert your eyes, gaze being forced to rest on his anger and distaste only. The rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach is like an over-boiling copper pot, scorching water taunting the brink of the lid, causing it to fly off and wreak havoc elsewhere.
“Tell me, princess.” He ponders mockingly, finding great humor in how tense he was able to make you with three simple words.
“What is it that you make me out to be?”
There’s a shit-eating grin at the tip of his tongue, a taunting aura to his spite. Perhaps there’s a part of him that hopes your response will be genuine, positive to the darkness that’s held to his head on a daily basis— but no matter. He already knows what your misconceptions contain. He knows that you’d already filed him away in the troublesome cabinet at the back of your brain. It’s almost like he’s looking at an average cavern girl with great beauty. You’d be nothing without the small tiara on your head, that’s clear after determining the lack of assertiveness you assume.
…but perhaps, for once, Rin is wrong.
Not a single response emits from your mouth, the silent stare down between glaring eyes being intimidating enough; there’s absolutely no way you were going to anger the bastard prince any further. Yes, he’s considered to be nothing but a brute, but there’s something in his sparks of blue that makes you believe otherwise.
This man is an underestimated enigma, and you sure as hell aren’t going to be one of those common fools who blindly thinks otherwise.
“Your brother tells me you are a good man.” you speak enunciating each word to ensure that it gives its intended effect, that being of a derogative nature masked with falsified kindness and fortitude. “He says that your people adore you, that you are one in the same. Grounded. Of level head.” Bullshit.
Sae would never say those things.
The people would never say those things.
Rin scoffs, listening to the meaningless and unoriginal acclamations being brought to his attention, tired of having to hear them day after day by not only his fellow royals, but staff and peasants— and every other person who’s ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with the royal family, always being disappointed that he is the one to be met.
As he steps closer, wanting to see just an ounce of fear in your eyes, a frown is brought to his beautiful features. What?
In no way are you intimidated by his presence. There’s no shudder, no wince, no flinching whilst his steps grow closer and closer to your position. Just a blank stare of nothingness at his furrowed brows. You aren’t reacting like the other princesses that’ve come to attempt to wed Sae; all princesses who have come and gone due to Rin’s dark intimidation. You have spirit, a fire that’s not willing to be doused by his ocean of hatred.
“Are these your words?” he interrogates.
One of his hands reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your right ear, noticing the tomato red of your cheeks. Smirking, he thinks to himself how dismantled you likely are beneath your stoney stance. “Or are these all of the things my brother has told you? Do you have any thoughts of your own, princess?”
“No need to answer that. I already know what you think of me.” Continuing on, deaf to the attempted precautions from Sae, he leans in— his lips just ghosting over yours, and whispers his final remarks.
“You’re an open book, beautiful— and I can’t say that I'd ever want to read you.”
So, as Prince Itoshi Rin’s steps recede, the distance between you two grows with every second; and you feel a bright, red, rage bubbling deep within your heart. It’s a hot and heavy anger simmering within your soul for the sly man with dark hair— knowing full well that he will be one of the many, if not the biggest, challenge you’ll face in your newfound kingdom.
And never before, have you felt more ready to take on a challenge.
Annoyance is the most prominent emotion Rin has felt in the past two weeks.
Utter disdain at the sight of you and Sae conversing through the courtyard, picking flowers in the rose garden, and taking romantic boat rides in the nearby lake. It’s one thing to fall in love, feel your heart begin to swell at the physical presence of that one special person— but it’s another to have to witness first-hand with no relation to the budding romance at all. Having no need to be involved in the newfound relationship, yet still being forced to interact as a third party member. It’s absolute madness.
He’s somewhat happy for Sae, he truly is. There’s a sense of pride in his soul at the sight of his half-brother stepping up to the position that he’s been in preparation for for all of his life— but with that promotion comes you.
With the rise of power comes your completely lethargic presence.
Oh how he cannot stand you.
You’re just insufferable. You’re unapologetically and unequivocally insufferable to his mind. The mere sound of your voice sends him into a downward spiral. The mere thought of your existence ruins his day with ease. The slightest mention of your life-lasting role in the kingdom he’d grown up in ignites the most powerful feeling of disgust he’s ever known. The weight of his conscience burns with every snarky remark, dig, and insult that flies from your throat; your trained grace never falling scarce in melody, although your words could be considered crude by any proper lady. Words that allow you to terrorize his brain in the midst of night, keeping him awake whilst the moon becomes one with the sun.
He fully believes that you were created to be the bane of his existence…the hell to his heaven…the demon behind all corners in the everlasting game that he has the misfortune of living.
“You’re looking a little grey today, Rin.”
Oh no…
“Perhaps it’d be wise to freshen up a bit!”
Please, just shut up.
“I’m sure the servants won’t mind spending a few hours by your side in an attempt to make you look handsome!”
He hates that damn sound.
There it is. The dreadful sound of your sing-song voice ringing through the hallowed halls, emptying the painfulness of your personality in the wake of the morning dew— as for some god awful reason, you always insist on being the first person to the dining hall, wanting to mark each new day with a classic and large Japanese breakfast.
“As I’ve said many-a-times before, princess.” His head swivels to face you, eyes rolling at the skip in your step. “You are to refer to me as Prince Rin, it is what I prefer.”
“Is it your honored title or is it what you personally enjoy?” you challenge, looking over your shoulder with a mocking pout, having the knowledge that he has certainly come to despise you in the short time you’ve known one another. “Greatest apologies, my liege; but it wouldn’t be proper of me, a woman, to call you, a man, a name that isn’t of great decadence.”
“Surely you can see where my true intentions lie?”
A pained grin comes to shine on his features, shooing away the rain clouds and allowing sparse rays of phony sunshine to shower you. His teeth bite his bottom lip as he struggles to keep his curses imprisoned between his heart and his tongue. You had to have been born of a despicable nature. In no world that is right, in no paradise would anyone deserve the punishment of having to know you— as Rin believes all tyrants belong with the street rats. Not to insinuate you’re a tyrant, but to express that you’re equivalent to a sickly rodent.
“I’m not a fool, you know.” he spits, striding towards your retreating figure and grabbing you by the forearm and stopping you in your tracks. Rin smirks as his touch forces you to become overwhelmed in shock. “I see you, princess. I see through your poise and ladylike mannerisms. I can see what a lonesome and sorrowful shadow you’ll inevitably become. No wonder you’re going to be nothing but an objectified woman, an accessory to Sae’s power— a dull little doll of a woman who perhaps had moxie in her past— yet still became a lifeless puppet beneath a bejeweled tiara, stuck with the hands of judgment up her arse.”
You’re a fool to go toe-to-toe with him, of all people.
Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen such fire behind your eyes. Fire that burns hot, raging with seething anger and humiliation. If the world were to be supernatural, there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d have set it aflame in response to his vile predictions; the castle crumbling in ash with you standing alone in its wake atop his lifeless corpse that’s burnt to a crisp.
“You are entirely incorrect, never have I shown servitude for the sake of reputation—”
“Really?” his snarling voice interrupts you, refusing to let you get a single word in amidst his long-winded attack. “Then what is it that you’re doing right now, at this very moment. No princess with a functioning brain would ever find herself working with kitchen servants to prepare breakfast for two royal families. She’d simply order them to do it on their own. Every single thing you do is in order to gain likability from those who shouldn’t ever matter. If you had a backbone of any sort, you’d understand that— and you’d understand that titles are of nothing. They’re of no relation to any true purpose or meaning.”
“Then what are you?” you retaliate, ending the lengthy trail of hurtful words and confessions spewing from his mouth. “What are you but a sorry excuse of a prince…of a son?”
“You say titles are rubbish, yet you continue to wear that horrendous crown atop your hair. You choose to take it off of your placid vanity and wear it with honor; although you aren’t much of an honorable man, are you? If you were, then perhaps you’d have a grain of respect from your people. Perhaps you would spend your days in the throne room, being in the advisory alongside your brother— your splendid and valiant brother who has done nothing but serve for the greater good— instead of dallying away with mundane and useless tasks that no one cares to notice! As why would anyone bat an eye at a mistake, when they could be focused on someone like Sae. Someone of the sun’s decadence?”
The face opposite to yours is almost unrecognizable; with his red skin, flared nostrils, and dead-set eyes, Rin looks as if he’s just murdered a man out of spite and grief. He looks as if he’s just induced a homicide and is preparing to start anew, find another victim…that victim undoubtedly being you.
He tips his head downwards, breath grazing against your upper hairline whilst his dark crown shifts in his hair— nearly falling off the front of his forehead, the large arches seem ominous and unwelcoming along with the deadly ocean depths of his eyes. The usual gem-like blues holding a more dangerous tone than a tsunami.
Rin knows he’s frightening…
…and he’s enjoying it.
“You speak on things you know nothing of.” Rin fakes a straight toothed smile; his outside appearance looking completely opposite to the growing pit at the bottom of his stomach. If the peasant’s freak show has come to the kingdom, he’ll be the opening act—a fraudulent performer behind a mask of stoney emotions. “I have freedom and opportunity. If I so wanted, I could order a horse to be prepared, ride through those gates, and never look back. There is nothing holding me here— not my father, my brother, or the people. When will you realize how little your beliefs matter to me.”
He’s boiling with rage, as are you whilst his words ring truer than you’d like to admit; each one hitting the most insecure corners of your heart. “Your meaningless and unimportant opinions in relation to my kingdom— when in reality, you’re simply another black plague that’s washed upon its shores. Another person who’s crawled out of the local sewers and weaseled their way into the generous hands of the royal family. It’s just so unfortunate...”
“...that in the end, you’re nothing but a breeding ground for my brother.”
On instinct, without a coherent thought in your mind, you feel your arm swing out— open palm flying through the air, only to land against the dark prince’s swelling cheeks— leaving not only a bright, red mark, but also an expression of identical shock on both of your faces.
Taking a step back, he reaches upwards to cup the bruise only to realize that you’ve done far more damage than a measly purple wound. You’ve managed to produce a cut, one that seeps through his scarlet blossoms and runs from the corner of his eye to the bottom of his chin; displaying the path of your anger whilst your ring-studded hand has directed itself across his face.
Raindrops of ruby pour from the injury as you stare in horror at your blood splattered engagement ring.
The shimmering diamond turns dark as the tide of rouge rolls in, encasing the notion of property beneath your outspoken and unintentional hatred for Rin; and before you’re given a chance to respond, a second to apologize, the man has already stalked off towards his living quarters— not wanting to see the look of expected satisfaction on your face at the sight of his uncontrollable winces. You don’t deserve to smug as he rests in pain— despite how you are, in truth, regretful of what you’ve done.
Though, not that he’ll ever come to that conclusion.
As why would you, someone in the same likable ranks as a weathered gargoyle have any intent of remorse. Why would you, a woman who would soon have all the power in the world to hold over his head, care about a lasting scratch; no matter how deep.
You’re a tyrant, and oh-how he loathes a tyrant.
A garden of statues would perhaps have more purpose than Rin in his current predicament— standing between his father and half-brother, listening in on the up-and-coming preparations for the royal wedding; whilst even the breaths he takes are ignored, lost in a sea of ignorance and invisibility. Emperor Itoshi gleams with pride, his mindset focused on the change of power— the crown on his head that will soon be worn by his eldest son, the one of pure royal blood. Yet, with the happiness in his heart, his smile only reaches so far; never shedding light on the tundra that consumes his bastard child.
“Rin!” The man hollers beside him as he grasps Sae’s shoulder in a love-bound strength; his god-given touch of a father being miles-on-miles away from the fragile prince who needs it most. “Look at the life your brother’s going to make for himself! Witnessing him amidst the coronation will be splendid—”
“Remind me again, father.” Rin interrupts, not wanting to hear a minute more of the relentless doting. It’s night and day, a never ending string of praise and compliments, all for the great, Sae. “Where is it that I am to be for the duration of these wondrous festivities? I don’t believe I’ve heard spoken word of that as of yet.”
A wave of ignorance acts upon itself through his father’s careless hand, dismissing the trivial concerns of his youngest son; his heart only having enough room for one soul other than himself. “I suppose you’ll stand with the castle staff, it’s likely we have a limited space at the head of the church due to the size of our friends' traveling blood.”
The castle staff?
He’s to stand with lowly servants?
Rin doesn’t know why he feels so shocked, after all, he should’ve been expecting to be cast aside with those of low status. While his title associates himself with the royal lineage, he’ll never truly be accepted into the upper class— that divide has always been inflicted upon him by his own father.
“So, I am not to be in our primary aisle? I am not to have a sliver of sight at Sae’s crowning?”
There’s a hint of spite in his tone, a spite that was usually hidden from the eardrums of others, revealing itself to the people who’d known it was lurking for decades. While Sae simply disconnects himself from the conversation, a privilege that he’s lucky to have, refusing to meet his younger brother’s eyes— their father pushes further. He’s well aware of the growing insecurities his bastard child has, but he also knows how to obliterate the subject in its entirety.
“You aren’t pure.” His voice is stoney and directed at Rin whilst gesturing to Sae, as he shakes his head at his least favorite son. “I can’t possibly have you, a boy I conceived with a gutter whore, stand at the equal sides of neighboring royalty. It would be seen as disgraceful.”
This isn’t the first time Rin’s heard these words.
“You are a disgrace.”
His father tells him these things often.
“All you are is a physical representation of my shame, boy. You’ve already embraced the darkness—it’s about time you allow the shadows to consume you whole.”
That doesn’t lessen the pain, though.
With that, Kyohei turns away and grasps Sae’s arm, leading him towards their higher chambers; ones that Rin has never been honored to walk upon. There are no glances, no solemn, not a single look back by his father to perhaps ensure that his son is somewhat okay or devastatingly upset— though, neither one is true. The only emotion racing through the thick blood in his veins is emptiness. Just the familiar feeling of being worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of the man who should see him as the world. From the beloved emperor that cares for nameless peasants and civil servants, his father is seen as just and valiant— his true nature of disdain and cruelty only being known by his immediate family.
So as he walks alone, with no council weighing down on his heart, no angel on his shoulder, and no devil in the ranks— Rin is blind to the world around him. He chooses to maintain blindness in relation to any matter that seems regal and of importance. Since, after all, who is he to state a claim on that significance…
…when he, himself, has no significance at all?
His feet move on autopilot, like a white pawn at the match’s first mark. As if there’s a knife at his throat, forcing him to play down the chessboard— across the bi-colored tiles and towards the blackened queen. Him being a simple sacrifice; one of many to ensure a victory, no matter the underlying consequences. No matter the fact of how he’ll never hear the final calling, the call of wind inducing the fallen king and victorious player— as he’ll be far too acquainted with death to rise back from the shattered stone. A small sense of relief overcomes him as he steps into the courtyard. His soul is satisfied and alleviated at the location his muscle memory has taken him. While the twilight moon is nearing, his mind is awake; fully conscious and stormy of his own self-doubt and insecurities. Two things that can typically only be dissolved by his favorite location on the castle grounds.
The secluded lake amidst the willow trees. It shimmers and glistens beneath the draping branches, and acts as a hub of life and growth. His secret spot is possibly the most beautiful feature in the kingdom, at least Rin feels so; with its evening flowers and low-light critters, the soft grass and blossoming lily pads, and the perfect view of Andromeda— it’s his safe haven.
A safe haven that he prefers to keep to himself.
A place that no other person has stepped foot in for as long as he’d known of its existence.
A place that has just now been infiltrated by the disguised cockroach that is you.
“You torment me day and night within the walls of my own home; yet you still find it necessary to follow me as if you’re a lost duckling during ungodly hours.” he deadpans, shaking his head at the sight of your furrowed brows and taking a seat at the bay. Rin sighs deeply as his calloused skin comes in contact with the grassy fibers. “A proper princess would be in her chambers by the time midnight struck. It’s nearly 12:30, princess.”
Why are you looking at him like that?
The strange look on your face is laced with some sort of emotion that he’s never seen before. It's buried beneath the layers of organic makeup and skin. He can only assume it’s something similar to discomfort, and despite your intentional mask being well kept— he can see through anyone. He has the rare ability to understand the thickest of thieves, as he, himself, is the biggest phony of them all.
The sparse shadows soften your usually antagonized features in his mind, a more human appearance alleviating in its wake; and Rin swears he sees a tear drip from your right eye, swimming down your cheeks, and dropping off at your chin into the dewey land— becoming one with nature’s true beauty. The earth embraces your unexplained sadness with open arms, blowing the willow branches around your body. In a strange way, Rin thinks this is the first time he’s truly seen you as what you are. A princess. You’re beautiful beneath the moonlight, but perhaps it isn’t your physical beauty that’s catching his eye…but your emotional vulnerability.
“Dearest apologies, my liege.” you mutter, voice droning on with not a sliver of spite in your tone; only exhaustion. “I’m afraid that I’m not much of a proper princess, tonight. If you’d prefer it, I’d be more than welcome to leave you be— perhaps I’d regain some of my lost dignity in doing so.”
He studies you for a moment, his eyes grazing your posture, the physical habits you display on the daily are missing beneath the moon’s kisses. All that’s left in its disappearance is a small-spoken and sadness-consumed girl. A girl that’s tired and painstakingly sick of the expectations and predecessors that she’s been forced to live up to by birth…and as much as he hates to admit it, even just to himself, he’s found a similar identity in you. A familiarity he’s never quite noticed before.
“Stay.” His voice is so faint that even he is surprised at his statement.
“Perhaps we’ll both freeze to death.” he continues on, feigning the annoyance he typically spits in your direction. “I’d quite enjoy seeing your ghastly face covered in ice.”
While Rin believes his offering to be nothing out of the ordinary, your expression tells otherwise. It’s clear that you’re able to read through the misconceptions he’s trying to give you; looking straight into his eyes with an amused gleam and giggling softly in response. He’s never made a princess laugh before— usually the only girls he spends one-on-one time with are the tavern girls who wish to sleep with a prince— and he’d be a liar to say he didn’t like the sound. You have a beautiful laugh and Rin hangs onto every second it continues to carry through the wind. Perhaps he’s been misjudging you just as you misjudged him. Perhaps you’re not like the others.
“I’m sure you would, Rin.” you smile, sitting down next to him on the plush comfort of uncut grass. “But I have had such an awful day, that I don’t think there’s anything you can say to me that will make it worse.” An awful day?
“May I ask what happened?” Why does he suddenly care?
“Yes, you may.” Why do you want to tell him?
A sigh breathes out of your lips, whistling in the wind and getting lost in the space of stars. “I’m a lousy princess.”
He chuckles, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. There’s no way that you, little miss prim and proper, are a bad princess. You’re practically the model that every father bases his daughter on when raising her in a royal setting; he knows because he’s met his fair share of truly lousy princesses. “No you’re not.”
“Yes I am.” you’re not looking at him anymore, rather at the constellation ceiling above you. The stars reflect themselves in your eyes, and if you weren’t a princess on earth, Rin would think you were a gift from the moon himself. “I could barely keep up with Prince Sae today. We had dance rehearsals for the wedding, and our instructor is so strict that I can barely breathe around her without being reprimanded. I couldn’t even memorize the basic steps, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I have practically been training for this duty for my entire life and I can’t remember a few dances? I’m not fit to be a queen. I just turned eighteen, I’ve barely lived at all. How can I protect an entire kingdom, when I cannot even fend for myself?”
“Prince Sae is perfect. He’s amazing. I can’t possibly be enough to be his wife. I can’t live up to those standards. It’s impossible.”
Suddenly, all of the broken pieces seem to come together. They’re swept by a broom, one that the moon king holds above the two of you, as your shattered stars of insecurities collide into one pile of stardust. Rin sees himself in you. He sees himself from a perspective that he’s never known before. Never in his life has he met someone who understands and agrees that royal duties are impossible; usually common folk and other royals tell him what an honor it is to be of a royal bloodline. They don’t care or consider his feelings on having to be held to a higher standard, while also being at a disadvantage as a bastard child. You are different. He knows you won’t judge him for these fears he has; a small part of him trusts you now.
“My brother is a golden boy.” Rin smiles at you, and it’s the first genuine smile he’s ever given someone. “Please do not take it too personally if you cannot live up to his excellence.”
You gaze at him in appreciation, scooting slightly closer while keeping a healthy balance that wouldn’t ensue romantic implications. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for you, though. How do you handle all of this? I can barely keep my head above water.”
Wow…you’re the first person who’s ever asked how he feels.
“It’s difficult,” he explains, “but manageable. I’ve only ever known this life, so I’m quite used to being at the end of the line so-to-speak. My brother— I’m not sure why I even call him that, he’s not my brother, I’m sorry. My half-brother is the kingdom’s blessing. He’s my father’s blessing. He’s perfect like you said; but his destiny isn’t his own. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Your head shakes in confusion, not quite understanding where his story is going.
“I’m sorry, I’ve never spoken of these feelings before; at least not out loud to someone other than my own mirror.” His human instinct shuffles himself closer to you, wanting that physical comfort whilst knowing that he can never have it. “I’m not unhappy that I am not the one to be emperor. I would rather be a bastard, because at least I have freedom to run away one day without worrying about feeding the masses and avoiding war. I can leave this kingdom and not have to think about my father or Sae ever again. That’s the one luxury I have always had— and it’s the one thing that I look forward to. I’m so sorry that you don’t have that same privilege.”
Nothing comes as a response and Rin feels a little concerned, that is until your soft voice reaches his ears.
“I’m sorry for being so difficult towards you.”
You’re apologizing?
“I don’t regret anything, though.”
That makes more sense.
Another laugh bubbles up from the pits of his soul, setting off the volcano of amusement that’s been dormant for so long. “You’re a tyrant princess, my kingdom should be more weary of you.”
You giggle beside him, “Tyrant princess sounds more fun than disciplined empress.”
Maybe he’s gone mad or maybe the chilling breeze has gotten to his brain and made him delusional, but Rin feels his heart pounding— and not in the familiar way of anger and aggression. This rapid heartbeat is something warmer…fonder…gentler. If he’s not mistaken, he believes it to be the warmth that comes with falling in love; something that he’s only read about and wished for when he does eventually run away from home. However, he never believed he’d find that feeling within the palace walls— especially with you, whom he despised prior to this night. He promised himself he’d never fall for another royal, but his destiny is shaping itself in ways that are unpredictable.
He should thank the man in the moon.
Rin stands, dusting off his pants, before offering you a hand. It’s an earnest gesture, one that you cannot ignore, and he’s vulnerable with his sincerity. “I can’t promise that I hold any skills near to my brother, but I swear on my soul that I won’t push you into that lake if you give me one dance.”
“Just one?” your tone is teasing, yet you accept his offer. The feeling of your hand in his sparks flickers of jealousy in Rin’s mind. Why is Sae the one who gets to hold you? It isn’t fair. “If you push me in that filthy water, I’ll give you a matching scar…”
“...right there.”
One of your fingers softly grazes his cheek, the spot underneath his right eye and flicks upwards, brushing against his thick eyelashes, before you lace your hands around his neck. You sway together, with the moonlight showering its stars down upon you, blessing you with well-wishes from the galaxy— and drift away from the worries of royalty and betrothals. Rin is miles from the anger that nestled itself inside of his heart, freezing it and shrinking it until he no longer knew what the emotion felt like. You’ve melted that ice. You’ve found a crack and broken the cycle of rage he’s so accustomed to…and he’s grateful.
For this is the first time he’s ever felt loved…
…if only you were his…
…but you aren’t.
⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated!
⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!
#this fic is finally seeing the light of day#literally been buried in my archives for years now LOL#hope u enjoy it <3#angelshubnetwork#i.e. garden song#rin itoshi#itoshi rin#rin x reader#rin x you#rin x y/n#itoshi rin x you#itoshi rin fluff#itoshi rin x reader#rin ff#rin fanfiction#rin fanfic#rin angst#rin fluff#itoshi rin fanfiction#itoshi rin fanfic#itoshi rin x y/n#rin itoshi x you#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin hc#itoshi rin hcs#itoshi rin angst#rin itoshi fluff#rin itoshi angst#bllk#blue lock
234 notes
·
View notes
Text
we were only built to fall
buck/eddie | 9.9k | read warnings
After a series of almost confessions through a string of broken phones, Eddie Diaz is trying to not take it personally when they each have a vendetta against his personal life.
But when it ends up being the one thing he could always count on to bring him back to everything he's been running away from, a few more cracked screens would have been worth it after all.
or, 5 times messages were left unsent + 1 time it goes through.
one
At the very least, Eddie’s thankful that he’s not the one breaking it this time.
He wants to say that he’d be perfectly fine without it. That life would go on just the same if he could go one day without making sure it was safely stored in his right pocket at all times.
But with the life he’d been thrown into, the son he was blessed with and the job holding both of those things together, cruising through life without the cursed little thing was never an option. So when he breathes a sigh of relief that he’s not the one having to knock on Bobby’s office door with his tail between his legs, he doesn’t let himself feel too bad about it.
It was to be expected given their circumstances. Chim’s phone had taken the hardest hit from the seawater and now he would have to partake in the painful process of transferring everything into his new one. With the hundreds of dollars you’re paying for one of those things, you’d think they would have invented one that was everything-proofed by now.
Eddie watches him grumble over it from the kitchen at the station and thinks about the one other person who would be equally as amused by the sight.
Buck gets cleared at the hospital and they send him home with a warning. Eddie hasn’t seen him since that night.
read the rest on ao3
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
New fic just dropped! The Buddie hockey AU that I've somehow been working on for four years.
"You should see the other guy," Diaz smirks.
His lip is busted, and it looks like he might have a black eye when all is said and done. His hand is wrapped in gauze, and he winces a little as he flexes it.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Buck says.
"Yeah, well. Everyone seems to want a piece of you." Diaz says, and Buck thinks his brain is short-circuiting.
#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#911#this fic took years off of my life and it's only 15k words#I started this shit in quarantine#and now it finally sees the light of day#thank god
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Survivor's Blood (Leon x Reader) - Chapter 1
Survivor's Blood
Pairing: Leon x Reader
Summary: After Raccoon City, Leon became the only Government agent with that kind of expertise. With relentless training, he was now a Special Agent - again, on his first day in the job. He just didn't expect to live Raccoon City all over again... Maybe Leon was fated to always have the worst first-days-at-work ever.
Age Restriction: 18+. It's horror - so expect a LOT of blood, corpses, dismemberments, very graphic descriptions of violence, dubious morals and people doing everything to survive. Nothing we haven't seen on RE, but reader discretion advised.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Ok. Long story short, Leon has PTSD. He'll be trying to deal with that while again living very violent and traumatizing experiences. The reader is also damaged by the whole situation - again, expect PTSD, anxiety attacks, doom and gloom, all that stuff. I'll leave warnings every chapter there is something very explicit and potentially triggering, though.
Author's Notes: RE4 remake is among us! Bet you guys didn't see this coming - I didn't either. I have 50+ pages of this sitting on my pc since before I started this blog. I was writing it in Portuguese just to indulge me, but with all the RE4 thing, I'm quite hyped for it - and it came in a good time, I'm in need of keeping my head distracted. Like Nemesis, I'll try to update this one weekly. The good side, it's already halfway written, so I'll only have to work on translating to post - with Nemesis, I actually have to write it.
This one is between RE2 and RE4 - I wanted to explore the innocent little rookie cop Leon becoming badass goofy special agent Leon, so this is kinda it. Almost like a character study that capcom never does <3
Fret not, I do finish my works in progress ;)
Also very proud of this header as well
Chapter 1
Leon dreamt almost every day with the horrors he had lived in Raccoon City.
To wake up before the sun painted the sky in golden tones, with his hair plastered on his face from the sweat, already grabbing a gun he got in the habit of leaving by his nightstand and aiming it at a random point in the darkness wasn’t a random occurrence anymore.
“Shit…” And he always cursed between a tired sigh, feeling the cold floor under his feet as his elbows rested on his knees, head hanging low.
He could choose the moment that appeared in his dreams, as if he was still there: the cop Leon tried to save and got cut in half right in his hands, the many heads he blew up of innocent people, his very own colleagues who dragged themselves towards him trying to eat him alive, those terrible monsters who followed Leon around as if the was the only living being in that hell…
Leon had enough memories for a whole lifetime. And, most probably, Post-traumatic Stress Disorder also enough for a lifetime.
It was to be expected that the government would find him for intense interrogation sessions and soon decided to turn him into one of its Special Agents – precisely those who do the job that no one else could. And all of that because no one had the experience he had; the Raccoon City experience.
Who would’ve known that from a rookie cop on his first day at the job, Leon would become a Special Agent of the Government.
Even though he had that experience, and it made Leon become a Special Agent, now he was just a rookie again. He had been in some field activities – simple stuff, but, in his dictionary, almost nothing compared to surviving the virus outbreak at the RPD. So, for all effects and purposes, he was still a rookie.
And he never imagined what kind of mission would be his first as a Special Agent. Leon was probably doomed by fate to have the worst first days at work ever.
**
New Setosa, April 29th, 2001 – 16h43
“The whole city is a mess, Chief Nakai. We managed to rescue a few people, but, truth is, everyone is scattered around and we don’t know what to do.” A police officer reported to the police Chief of New Setosa, the city that turned into hell in a few hours. “We don’t know if there are any more survivors or where they are.”
Chief Nakai kept his eyebrows together, evidently worried. Screams of mayhem could be heard all over the town outside the department, and the officers in New Setosa had been called to help in that mess they found themselves in. They said it was a virus, something that could become an epidemic, and it spread faster than a fever at a kindergarten.
“What about Washington? You spoke to them, right? Are them sending more people? Help? Rescue…?” The police officer himself was desperate. In all his years in duty, he had never been through something like that.
“The Government promised to send a team to help us, with a specialist in this kind of situation.” Nakai sighed, finally leaving his room with the officer – only to find a bunch of desolate people needing first aid and food, terrorized with what could be outside.
“How can someone be a specialist in this?!” The police officer was already far from trying to control himself. “I’ve never heard of anything like this shit! I don’t even know what those… Things out there are!”
“In Raccoon City, around two years ago, there was a similar incident. Do you remember…? They blew up the whole city ‘cause apparently a virus spread around and that was the only way to contain the epidemics…?” Nakai tried to remind his subordinate, but the man only denied with his head. They probably found a good way to cover up the story of Racoon City and only a few people remembered what had happened. “Well. Maybe this Special Agent from the Government will be able to help us with this. Maybe he led the extractions in Raccoon City. Maybe he helped the dozen poor bastards who survived to get out of there.”
As if on cue to the words of Chief Nakai, the symphony of approaching helicopters made everyone pay attention to what was happening outside. They approached and distanced right after, making the sound of coordinated steps at the top of the Police Department – the NSPD – be heard. The steps approached in a hurry – and no one knew if they would be friendly or not. One of the internal doors opened with a loud noise, giving way to men in black uniforms and heavy weapons, led by a tall man with gray hair in a military cut.
“Commander Rogers?” Nakai asked as the man immediately approached, offering his hand to start the conversation in the friendlier tone they could at that time. “It doesn’t look like a sufficient number of men to save a whole city.”
“If our suspicions are correct, there may be not that much people to save, Chief Nakai.” The Commander answered with a strong handshake, observing the despair in the eyes of the people in the NSPD. “What’s the situation?”
“There’s a lot more people to save, but we don’t have enough police force. The entire city is chaos outside, and this is the most we were able to do at the moment. We already had too many losses; many good police officers died today.”
Leon observed the entrance hall of the NSPD, in silence. He remembered when he first entered the RPD, years ago, and there was no one. The silence was deadly, and he could only hear the noises of the undead chasing him through the corridors of the police department. That was very similar to Raccoon City… Too similar.
He hoped with all his heart his PTSD wouldn’t trigger that night. That was the closest he found himself to Raccoon City in years.
“We will try to rescue the greatest number of people we can.” Rogers walked alongside Nakai and the police officer to a nearby meeting room. The Commander signaled Leon to follow him, and he did without a word. As they entered the room, there was a map of New Setosa taped to the wall.
“The issue is that people are spread around the whole city.” Nakai pointed at the map, hopeless. “We tried to gather as much as we could, but those things are at the gates, ready to kill anyone who tries to leave the NSPD. I don’t think people left their homes, and those who did… Well. You saw how it’s like outside. It’s gonna be impossible to gather everyone, we never saw anything like this.”
“We haven’t, but I have a Special Agent who has already gone through something similar.” Rogers confirmed with his head, making Nakai and the officer look at him with hope blooming in their chests. They waited for someone strong and unrelenting to walk in, a war machine, almost like Rambo or the Terminator. “Leon Kennedy.”
As the Commander pointed at Leon, their glances were a little… Disappointed. Leon looked like everything but a war machine like they expected: not that strong, not that imposing, maybe a little too skinny, albeit fit. He looked too young, too inexperienced, too cute for… That.
“No offense, Commander…” The police officer had to say something. After more than ten years working on the streets, he only saw rookies with that face. “But he doesn’t look like the type of person who would know what to do in this situation. We had cops with fifteen years of experience and training dying like cattle today.”
“I told you, Commander…” Leon closed his eyes and took a deep sigh, not in the mood to at least try to smile. He was certain no one would respect him, precisely for looking too young, maybe even inexperienced. And, honestly, that was his first day as a Special Agent, in what could be a copy of Raccoon City. What if he had a panic attack? No one would ever respect him again.
“Kennedy is one of the few survivors of the disaster in Raccoon City.” Rogers words were harsh, ignoring completely how desolated Leon was by his side. “I never dealt with those things, nor anyone else in my team, and even lesser you. Leon, on the other hand, killed dozens of those creatures, survived the massacre, avoided worse consequences and helped other survivors to get out of there alive. Everything new we will see today, won’t be any news for him. If there’s a person here who may know the best strategies for surviving and saving people, this person is him.”
“You survived Raccoon City?” Nakai had his eyebrows furrowed. “Again, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look too young, Mr. Kennedy.”
“It was my first day at work.” Now Leon had a not so happy smile on his lips. “I have a completely different definition of ‘hellish first day in the job’.”
There was something of strange in his eyes; something different. Leon could look too young and even naïve, but something changed when they looked into his eyes. They had something of tired, too harsh and too merciless for someone so young. Those eyes carried something impossible to erase from the mind – as if they would never forget the blood and the death. They expected eyes filled with kindness and innocence, but all they got was cold and emptiness.
“So… Mr. Kennedy.” The police officer looked a little ashamed of his own antics, pointing at the map once again. “What do you think? How was it with you guys? Did you manage to rescue someone?”
“Well… We were able to find a few people. They managed to protect themselves somewhere strategic and had guns for protection.” Leon sighed, taking a look at the city map. “An emergency announcement led everyone to the RPD, but the virus also got there, and it was a massacre. They couldn’t rescue the people fast enough, no one was there for us.”
Leon fell silent for a while, still observing the map. Nakai and the police officer exchanged wary looks while Rogers remained in silence. No one was there, Leon remembered. He and Claire found each other for a whim of fate and had to make their own way between hungry creatures who literally wanted to eat them alive. In the end, the city was destroyed with a bomb. There was nothing left. If Leon and Claire hadn’t insisted so much in their survival, they would’ve had died. The same thing with Jill and Carlos, who now had to battle their own demons because of all that and almost didn’t manage to leave the city on time. They were one of the few who were lucky, very lucky.
“Leon…?” And he was brought back by the Commander’s voice. Leon shook his head slightly and pointed at the map again.
“I don’t think that many people who stayed at home survived. Unfortunately, that’s what happened in Raccoon… We can try to gather some people in big places: schools, hospitals, supermarkets; and then we rescue them little by little with police cars.”
“Most streets are blocked.” Nakai denied with his head, hands on his waist. “We had too many accidents, the streets are pure chaos. Cars, trucks, motorbikes… You choose. They’re all thrown in the streets, in pieces or in flames.”
“In pieces and in flames too.” The police officer had to point it out.
“That happened in Raccoon as well. We can ask people to gather somewhere nearby, and our team goes in for the rescue. We'll call the base and ask for enough helicopters to take everyone away from here.” Leon suggested right after, looking at Rogers for approval.
“And how are we going to gather everyone in one single place?” The Commander still thought about it, albeit knowing it was the best shot they had. “It’s not like we can go around screaming a PSA.”
“Radio and television. When things like this happen, people try to communicate and keep waiting for communication.” Leon nodded as he remembered what happened in his own city, years prior. “When they announced the bomb, it was through a special announcement in the TV, I remember Carlos told me. He woke up and it was basically an audio telling everyone who survived to leave the city ‘cause a missile was programed to blow it up. We can try at least through the radio.”
“Hmmm… Grace is here in the NSPD with her assistant, Chief.” The officer was starting to see the first glimmer of hope amidst that hell. “If there’s still someone alive in the studio, she might be able to record the announcement here and we can start an emergency broadcast in Channel 8.”
“Grace is the weather girl; she was in the middle of a transmission when one of those things almost ate her and the whole team.” The Chief explained, shaking his head right after. “They lost two assistants, but the cameraman was able to flee with his camera untouched. Grace appeared running after him completely desperate, still holding the microphone.”
“It might work. If we can guarantee there’s someone at the studio, it’s possible gather people in… The hospital, maybe?” Leon observed the map, but soon received a frantic negative answer both from the police officer and Nakai.
“That was the starting point of all this disgrace.” The Chief ran his hand over his forehead. “We’re avoiding it like the plague. I’m sure no one survived in there.”
“Ok. Let’s talk to this Grace and see if we can get some communication at the broadcast station.” Rogers fumbled with the rifle in his hands, apparently having no worries with Leon carrying just one handgun, dearly named Matilda.
Rogers didn’t mind Leon’s weirdness. The kid had survived hell. In his point of view, he could be as weird as he wanted to.
“If we can’t contact anyone there…” With that, Rogers glanced at his Special Agent. Once more, Leon’s steel blue eyes carried that quite atypical coldness.
“I’ll go there, and I’ll find someone. If there isn’t anyone, you can just guide me, and I’ll make it work.” Leon had a small smile in his lips, remembering the first end of the world he had gone through. “I already had to learn a couple things the hard way. Making a TV broadcast work mustn’t be that hard.”
“Great. Let’s redirect the survivors to the school, any objections?” Rogers finally decided and got only negative answers from both Nakai and the police officer.
He wouldn’t make it obvious, but he was proud of Leon – for an ex-rookie cop, he was behaving quite well as a Special Agent.
**
“Grace?” In the packed entrance hall of the police department, filled with crying and mayhem, the voice of the police Chief made a woman with dark hair and shiny green eyes turn around to him, startled. “We need your help.”
“You?!” That’s what she spat back at him as an answer, completely baffled. The red suit jacket and skirt were dirty and misaligned, the white shirt stained with blood. “We are the ones who need help! Are you doin’ somethin’ to take us out of here or just chattin’ and drinkin’ tea?!”
“Charming.” Leon murmured to Rogers, already internally sighing upon realizing they really needed her help and couldn’t just ask someone else for it. They didn’t need someone with a superstar complex at that moment. The Commander just answered with a small, almost inaudible, laugh.
“We need you to make an emergency broadcast to the city. Where’s your assistant? What is his name?”
“His name is assistant.” Grace huffed, crossing her arms and already looking impatient. “What emergency broadcast? You guys want me to go to the studio for that? I am not leavin’ here.”
“Grace, please… Be reasonable.” Nakai gently touched her arm, approaching the woman. The police Chief lowered his voice. “We want all the survivors to gather in one single place. A TV broadcast helped some people to survive in Raccoon City, it might help here too. We need you to call the studio and see if there’s someone alive in there to broadcast while you give the announcement and the assistant records it.”
“In Raccoon City…? How do you know that?” The woman now looked confused and less combative. She also lowered her voice and seemed a little more prone to help.
“I was there.” Leon almost shrugged, being noticed for the first time. “If there’s no one in the studio, I’ll go there, and you tell me how to broadcast. The goal here is to gather the most people we can in just one place so we can get you all out of the city.”
Grace remained silent for a few seconds, observing Leon. She slowly ran her eyes through each of them, confirming with her head as she thought about it, finally uncrossing her arms.
“It might work…” She murmured back. “If there’s someone alive in the station, I know who’s gonna be. Let’s hope they listen the phone ringin’.”
The group headed back to the meeting room, closing the door and putting the phone in speakers. Grace dialed as fast as she could, watching her cameraman lost outside the room and signaling him to enter and remain silent. Patience wasn’t her virtue.
The phone barely rang once until a silent voice picked it up on the other side.
“Hello…?” It was uncertain, probably hiding. They didn’t let the phone ring so it wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.
“Hello? Y/n?!” Grace rested both her hands on the table, almost covering the phone with her body. The voice on the other side sighed in delight and had to contain itself not to scream.
“Gracie?! You’re alive?!” You took a deep breath while the woman affirmed enthusiastically, your heart beating fast and tears threatening to fall from your eyes.
“Y/n, oh my, y/n…!” Grace murmured, sighing right after, trying to hold back her tears. “I knew that you would be alive…!”
“It was tough, Grace. Almost died. Where are you?”
“On the NSPD! That’s exactly why I’m callin’! They are here with…”
“Wait…! Stop talking…!” You suddenly fell silent and everyone in the meeting room heard insistent knocks on a door, alongside horrible undead moans. They exchanged quick looks, not knowing what was going on.
After a few good minutes in silence, the banging finally stopped and the dragged steps couldn’t be heard anymore. You controlled your breath and barely made any noise – they started to ask themselves if you still were on the other side of the line.
“Hey. I’m at the Director’s room, I barricaded the door but those things still try to enter here until changing their attention to fresh blood.” You finally got back to the call, speaking even lower than before. They had to make the speakers louder on their side.
“Is there anyone else alive in there…?” Grace was even scared to ask. Actually, she didn’t want to, but she knew they would ask you that eventually.
“No. Not that I know of.” You sighed on the other side, following with a humorless laugh. “But, I think this is going to comfort you: the fresh blood is from the Director. I tied him up one of the windows after he died; he bled so much that he immediately grabs the attention of those things who are feasting on him.”
“Hmmm…” And Grace laughed briefly after hearing the news, a little more content than she should’ve. “It’s a lot more than what that shitty abuser deserved.”
“Well, at least he was useful for something, right?” You shrugged, understanding Grace’s anger. Anyone would understand it.
“Y/n, my dear, I need you to do me a favor. That’s why I called.”
“When do you call me not to ask for a favor?” You tried to joke for a while, making Grace let out a genuine laugh. “Even in the apocalypse you call me for favors. What if I had died?”
“I knew you hadn’t died. Out of every person in that studio, you’re the only one who had a chance; I’m just alive now ‘cause I wasn’t there when all hell broke loose.” Grace suddenly turned serious, looking a lot more professional than before. “Chief Nakai and Commander Rogers of the Special Forces want me to record an emergency broadcast so all survivors will go to the school, and they can be escorted to the NSPD and rescued. The idea is to broadcast it on the TV and the radio, so I’m gonna need someone inside the studio to broadcast the signal of our camera to TVs across the town and my audio through the radio.”
“Hmmm, ok. I’ve no idea how to do that nor how I’m gonna get there, but we’ll worry about it when I actually get there.” You mirrored her tone, immediately understanding the seriousness of the situation.
“Excuse me, y/n?” Leon finally decided to take over the call. “Leon Kennedy, Special Agent and Raccoon City survivor. I can help. Do you have any radio in there?”
“Like a walkie talkie?” You asked back and, from the noise, it seemed like you were going around the room. “Dunno. The Director had all kinds of junk in here.”
“He had one of our police radios.” The officer added with a long sigh, receiving suspicious looks. “How do you think he knew exactly when some interesting crime happened and appeared there out of the blue, sometimes even before than us? The man was never worth a dime.”
“Well. At least now he’s worth something.” You considered in a mumble, followed by a rather loud noise and some things being fumbled around. “Locked drawer, the key is probably still with him. I don’t think I’ll be able to get rid of the half-dead people already feeding on the piece of crap at the moment.”
Grace giggled – that was the internal nickname of the Director to anyone who worked in the broadcast station; specially women.
“Hmmm, found it. How can I turn it on?”
“There’s a switch on top of it that shows the frequencies, can you see it?” Leon’s answer was in autopilot, getting a positive response from you after a few seconds. “We can find a frequency…”
“0.5 hertz. No one uses that channel, you won’t be interrupted.” The police Chief added before Leon could finish talking, throwing him a similar radio. Leon adjusted on that very same frequency.
“Great. You just have to press a button on the side to open the channel to talk to me. I’m gonna test it here and you tell me if it works, ok?” He didn’t even have to say much for you to agree. With a few words, you could hear him loud and clear.
“Ok, it works. What about you?”
“Working as well.” Leon smiled. Luckily, you seemed to be a fast learner. “Talk to me as you walk around the studio, and I can help you around those things. I was a cop in Raccoon City.”
“Yeah, I know. Claire and Jill told me about you.” Your answer came with a sigh, not at all happy with the perspective of getting out of the room you had made so secure for yourself. “Gimme a minute to get ready. I’ll call you on the radio, ok?”
“Ok, that works.”
“Y/n.” Before ending the call, Grace called you one more time. “Just… Don’t die, ok? I wanna see you again. I don’t wanna be the only one left from the studio.”
“Don’t worry, Gracie. We need a lot more than half a dozen slow zombies to kill me.” You had a cocky smile in your voice, making her laugh before finally ending the call.
The only problem was that there was a lot more than half a dozen zombies in the studio.
**
To be continued...
#resident evil#re4#resident evil fanfiction#resident evil imagine#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy#leon x reader#leon x you#long fic#re4 remake#after years and years collecting dust in my drawer#this is finally seeing the light of day#treat it well please xD#what's interesting is that I kinda started to write this to cope with the pandemics when it started#reading it all over again is certainly interesting#I know it's a weird way to cope but hey#no normal people in the bibliotheque#also Leon and Dante are my two favourite himbos in this world#I had to bring 'im here eventually "^^#hope you guys like it!!#I JUST REALIZED I DUNNO THE YEAR RE4 HAPPENS#ok chill I just checked it's 2004#I did my research before writing this thank the gods
114 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Take that fellow over in the corner; Aziraphale could only wonder at what dark deeds he'd committed. He was leaning back at a table in the corner, hat drawn over his face to conceal himself. There was something familiar about the dark clothes he was dressed in, and as the stranger tilted his hat back just a bit, Aziraphale caught sight of a pair of dark glasses—
Oh, good Lord.
Crowey seemed to notice his presence from across the room, and broke into a grin."
My illustration for the first chapter of Hand for Hand , the Good Omens cowboy fic I just know we've all been waiting for.
This fic has truly been a labor of love. Everybody better go show @twoheadedoddity some love for their incredible writing.
#crowley#good omens#cowboy crowley#hehehehh#gomens#theres more where this art came from#prepare ur eyes to be bombared with cowboy crowley and gentleman aziraphale#theyre so special to me#beta reading this fic has been incredible#or some may say alpha reading#so awesome#anthony j crowley#go2#at the time of posting this the fic isnt out yet#but ill link it as soon as it is#i prommy#this fic has been living rent free in our brains for so long and its finally seeing the light of day#its like birthing a baby except i did none of the hard work#thefridge
33 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
gayness-and-mayhem
Gayness and mayhem
obscr-official
OBSCR
6cunning6linguist6
An Oubliette of Unusual Size 3.0
romanbymarta
Roman by Marta
popclown
Born from a wish