When I look up Joel Miller and it brings up the Pedro Pascal version..
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@meowieees
When I look up Joel Miller and it brings up the Pedro Pascal version..
This is how I picture Leon on all my fics btw
AO3 users when you tell them not to put their oc fics with the 'x reader' tag:
For all of my dear AO3 users;
PLEASE stop putting your OC fics with the '/reader' tag.
The amount of fanfics that I see with both the 'original character...' and 'Reader' tags is RIDICULOUS. Mostly because 90% o them are just OC fics.
If the main character has a fucking name and description then it's an Oc, not a reader insert.
Just put one tag or the other, but don't put both just because you want to get more views, if someone wants to read an oc fanfic, I assure you they will search the specific tag.
However, putting both or tagging it as a 'reader' instead of oc causes confusion and honestly, it fucking pisses me off SO BAD.
So yeah, just got to let it all out after searching for half an hour in AO3 for a fucking reader fanfic since all of them are damn oc fics with the wrong tag.
β΄οΈ pressure
jude bellingham x fem!rm player!reader. au.
synopsis. you missed your first penalty as a Real Madrid player, costing the team a win which ultimately takes a huge toll on you and your already fluctuating confidence. Luckily Jude, being the natural born leader that he is, is there to reassure you that itβs okay to make mistakes.
warnings. soft dom!jude, praise kink, fingering, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, mentions of misogyny, no physical traits described other than jude being taller than reader, not proofread
word count. 2.9k
notes. bad timing? iβve had this in the drafts for a while since, november 2025, so idk if the writing will be noticeably different or not. either way, i hope you enjoy! (despite the circumstances of today lol)
The second you sent the ball flying right over the goal, you wanted to die.
The game had been tense, tied up 2-2. Until the 87' mark when a playerβs hand on the opposing team had come into contact with the ball.
Penalty for Real Madrid.
It was a blessing, and Kylianβgod bless his heartβhad told you to take it. His confidence in you made your heart swell and you knew that this was it. This was the moment to prove yourself after all the criticism. After each insult sent your way just because you were a woman.
You wanted to prove everyone wrong, but you were too in over your head.
ππ¨ ππ’ππ§ππ¬π¬ππ¬
Κα΄α΄Ι΄ κ±. α΄α΄Ι΄Ι΄α΄α΄ Κ x α΄α΄Κα΄α΄Ι΄α΄ΚΚ! Κα΄α΄α΄ α΄Κ
Warnings: Enemies to lovers? This is written with re4r Leon in mind. Suggestive content. Mild-angst. Female reader. Reader and Ada are partners. Kinda canon-divergence (set in Spain during his mission to save Ashley).
Wc: 9471
π£β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§π£
You and Ada knew each other from various assignments where you had coincidentally crossed paths.
You were a mercenary. Though your loyalty belonged to no one, you worked for anyone willing to pay the right price. It was something you and Ada had in common.
Your relationship with her was strictly professional. Your fighting styles complemented one another perfectly, and somehow, despite the nature of your work, you had begun to care for her. As complicated as it was, a strange sort of friendship had developed between the two of you.
Wesker was no stranger either. He had hired you for a job or two before, though you had always worked alone.
So when he contacted you with another assignment, informing you that Ada would be your partner alongside a Spanish scientist named Luis, who would assist you from the inside, it caught you off guard. Still, the payment was generous, so you accepted without hesitation.
The mission would take place in Spain, more specifically in a secluded mountain village called Valdelobos.
You were tasked with retrieving a sample known only as "Amber," though you had been given very little information about it - not that you had asked. You never did.
You and Ada decided to split up, knowing it would allow you to cover more ground.
She headed toward the castle, while you made your way through the residential part of the village. Perhaps the locals could provide information, whether willingly or not.
Weathered stone cottages with dark wooden beams and cracked clay-tile roofs lined muddy dirt paths. Abandoned barns, empty animal pens, old wells, and rusting farm equipment hinted at a once-thriving agricultural community that had long since succumbed to decay.
Dense pine forests pressed in from every direction, swallowing the village beneath a perpetually overcast sky that bathed everything in bleak shades of gray, brown, and moss-covered green.
Thin wisps of smoke curled from aging chimneys, dim firelight flickered behind dust-coated windows, and weathered religious symbols stood beside unsettling cult iconography, creating a haunting contrast between familiar rural life and something profoundly unnatural.
Something wasn't right.
The village was silent - far too silent.
And in your line of work, silence was rarely a good sign.
It looks abandoned, you thought, deciding to enter one of the cottages. You quietly closed the door behind you before moving deeper inside with careful, measured steps.
Your boots landed softly against the worn wooden floorboards as you surveyed the interior.
Empty.
The faint creaking of floorboards beneath the house immediately put you on alert, your hand instinctively drifting toward the holster at your hip.
Following the sound, you found a narrow staircase leading down into the basement and descended one cautious step at a time.
The moment your foot touched the final step, the creaking stopped.
You froze.
Whoever was down there had noticed your presence.
You drew your pistol, holding it at the ready as you slowly rounded the corner.
A small gasp escaped your parted lips as you came face-to-face with a familiar figure.
A breathy mix of a scoff and a chuckle escaped you as you immediately lowered your weapon and snapped it back into its holster. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"I should be asking you the same question." He kept his gun trained on you, though you knew he wasn't going to pull the trigger.
"Well, that's unfortunate. I asked first." You hummed absentmindedly, your gaze wandering across the basement in search of anything that might prove useful for your mission.
"I am not in the mood for any of your games," he replied coldly, his eyes never leaving you as they tracked your every movement, wary of any sudden gesture.
"How long have you been here? In the village, I mean." Deciding to brush off his icy demeanor, you brushed past him, venturing deeper into the basement
This place is dusty. Whoever lives here hasn't cleaned in ages.
He didn't lower his weapon immediately, maintaining a tense silence as if debating whether you deserved an answer.
"A few minutes. Some cops brought me here. One of them got separated, so I've been looking for him."
A quiet scoff escaped you.
"Any luck?"
Your tone carried a faint trace of amusement.
"Clearly not." He didn't seem remotely entertained by your teasing. Although he lowered his gun, he didn't fully relax. You could tell by the tension in his shoulders and the guarded set of his posture.
"What are you doing here this time?" he asked, unable to conceal the unmistakable irritation laced with venom in his voice. "Are you going to get in the way of my mission again?"
You had met Leon Kennedy before.
You had been hired to retrieve information on a virus a bioterrorist organization was developing. Your mission had been simple: transfer the data onto a flash drive and deliver it to the man who had contracted you.
Unfortunately for you, Leon had been sent with the exact same objective.
Your first encounter with him had involved you pressing the barrel of a gun against the back of his head.
Surprisingly, it hadn't been your last.
You never knew whether it was coincidence or simply rotten luck, but your paths began crossing far more often than either of you would've liked.
And somewhere between those repeated encounters, something changed.
You found yourself expecting him to appear.
Your body learned to recognize the sound of his footsteps before you ever saw him. You remembered the way he favored a knife over a handgun in close quarters, how he shifted his weight before throwing a punch, how instinctively you reacted to every movement he made.
You had begun to enjoy your encounters - your fights. The way the two of you had memorized each other's every move until every clash felt almost choreographed, like a dance - If you ignored the fact that you were trying to kill each other.
And you hated that.
Because you knew exactly what you were.
And you knew exactly what he was.
Nothing good could ever come from whatever this was becoming.
Yet neither of you seemed willing - or perhaps able- to put an end to it. So you simply kept dancing around it.
Realizing the basement held nothing of value to your investigation, you let out a disappointed sigh and leaned back against the old wooden table behind you, folding your arms as you faced him. "Depends. If you told me what your mission actually is, maybe I could answer that."
His jaw tightened.
He didn't trust you - and he had every reason not to - but he also knew you were right.
"I'm looking for someone," he admitted reluctantly. "A girl." The words left his mouth as though they had been dragged out of him.
You fell silent for a brief moment.
"Then no," you finally replied. "I'm not. Unless you get in the way of my mission."
"You're not going to tell me what you're after, are you?" He asked despite already knowing the answer.
A quiet chuckle escaped your lips before you could stop it. "You know me well."
The corner of Leon's mouth twitched upward into the faintest smile before it disappeared just as quickly. He looked away, as though he'd accidentally revealed something he wasn't supposed to.
An uneasy silence settled between you.
Neither of you seemed to know what to say.
Just as you were about to break the awkward quiet, the faint creak of the front door opening upstairs beat you to it.
Your eyes met. No words were exchanged. None were needed.
You both drew your weapons, and Leon motioned for you to stay behind him. Together, you climbed the stairs in complete silence, each careful step barely making a sound.
The noises grew clearer as you neared what appeared to be the living room.
Someone was inside.
Leon raised a clenched fist, signaling you to stop. He pointed toward the living room before gesturing for you to circle through the kitchen, silently indicating that you should cover the opposite side in case whoever was inside proved hostile.
You gave a small nod and slipped away.
Taking position behind the living room's doorway, you listened carefully. The stranger muttered to himself in what sounded like Spanish, though from where you stood you couldn't make out the words.
Carefully, you peeked around the corner.
Leon stepped into the living room at a measured pace, his pistol lowered for the moment as he chose a more friendly approach.
"Hola, busco a un policΓa, ΒΏVino aquΓ?" he asked in Spanish.
You had to fight to keep from laughing at his dreadful accent.
The old man continued muttering under his breath, seemingly occupied with tending the fire in the chimney.
Your smile faded almost instantly as your eyes lingered on him.
Something wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong.
You slowly emerged from your hiding place, your pistol already raised.
Leon shot you a confused glance, silently asking what you thought you were doing.
You ignored him and addressed the old man instead. "ΒΏPodrΓa darse la vuelta? Si puede ser con las manos arriba, mejor."
Leon raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your fluency in Spanish.
The man abruptly fell silent, his movements ceasing altogether.
Leon seemed to notice something was off as well, and slowly raised his pistol. "ΒΏEstΓ‘ usted bien?"
The old man turned around with agonizing slowness, finally revealing his face.
He appeared to be well into his sixties, his weathered features marked by years of hard labor. A receding hairline and unkempt dark hair streaked with gray framed his head, while a thick salt-and-pepper beard gave him an even more rugged appearance.
But none of that was what caught your attention.
It was his eyes. They were blood-red.
That wasn't normal.
"He doesn't look okay..." you muttered to Leon, a faint trace of sarcasm lacing your voice.
Leon shot you a brief glare, making it abundantly clear that he wasn't in the mood for jokes.
The villager remained completely unresponsive, merely staring at the two of you.
Trusting Leon to keep the man covered, you cautiously shifted your attention to the rest of the room.
Your gaze settled on something resting atop the wooden table.
A badge.
Stepping closer, you picked it up.
A police badge.
Your eyes widened ever so slightly in realization.
Could this belong to the officer Leon was looking for?
You turned immediately to alert him but the instant you did, an axe came hurtling toward and your instincts took over.
You threw yourself into a roll just as the blade tore through the air where your head had been moments before.
As you regained your footing, you caught sight of Leon with his pistol trained on the villager.
He hesitated.
You were directly in his line of fire.
Realizing he wouldn't risk taking the shot, you continued weaving between the villager's axe relentless swings, deliberately drawing him farther across the room.
You were backing yourself into a corner and Leon caught on instantly.
The moment you slipped to the side to avoid another brutal overhead swing, Leon lunged forward and drove a powerful kick into the man's back.
The impact hurled the villager headfirst into the stone wall and a sickening crack echoed through the cottage as his neck snapped on impact.
Silence.
You let out a slow breath of relief, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. "What the hell was that guy's problem?"
Leon looked you over from head to toe, his eyes lingering for a moment as he silently checked for injuries. "You good?" His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but you caught the concern quietly woven beneath it.
He offered you a hand and you took it, allowing him to pull you back to your feet.
"Yeah," you replied, dusting yourself off with a dry laugh. "I'm doing just great."
"Did you see his eyes?" you asked Leon, instinctively taking a small step away from the old man's body.
"You think he was infected?" he asked, his gaze shifting between the corpse and you.
"Probably."
An awkward silence settled between you.
"You should head to the castle," you said at last. "The girl you are searching for, she'll probably be there."
You spared him one final glance before turning toward the cottage's front door, fully intending to end the conversation there.
His hand shot out almost instantly, gently wrapping around your wrist before you could reach the door, keeping you from reaching it.
"Hey. Wait."
You stopped in your tracks, your eyes dropping to his hand. It was the first time Leon had touched you without trying to kill you.
He seemed to realize just how intimate the gesture had been and immediately let go, taking a small step back.
"If... if that man was infected, there are probably more people like him around the village." He never said it outright, but you could hear the concern beneath his words. He didn't want you going out there alone.
"I'm a big girl." You brushed him off with a faint scoff. "I can take care of myself."
You wanted to tell him you'd survived far worse on your own. That you always had.
But you bit your tongue before the words could escape.
Leon remained silent. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, yet stopped himself before he could.
You took another step back, giving him one last look before turning once more toward the front door.
Just as your hand reached for the doorknob, a low, wet gurgle echoed through the room.
You frowned and looked back over your shoulder. "Was that you?" you asked, unable to place where the sound had come from.
Leon mirrored your confusion, giving his head a quick shake.
"What? No."
A metallic glint flashed behind him.
Your eyes widened.
"Leon, duck!" You drew your pistol as you shouted the warning.
Without a moment's hesitation, Leon threw himself into a roll just as an axe came crashing down where he'd been standing only a moment before.
Wood splintered apart as the blade buried itself in the floor. You fired inmediately. Your eyes recognising who the attacker was. The man from before.
His neck still hung at an impossible angle from Leon's earlier kick, grotesquely twisted to one side.
Your bullet tore through his right eye, forcing him to stagger backward. But he didn't fall.
Instead, his head jerked toward you, and with an inhuman snarl, he ripped the axe free before swinging it in your direction.
"What the fuck..." you cursed to yourself, stumbling back as the blade sliced through the air inches from your face.
Leon had already drawn his pistol. A gunshot ringing through the cottage as he shot.
The bullet struck the villager squarely in the head, and this time, he collapsed for good, his body crumpling to the floor a few meters from your feet.
"I made that one easy for you," you remarked, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
"Sure." Leon shrugged, though his attention remained fixed on the motionless body.
Even so, you caught the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
A shout shattered the brief moment of calm. "Β‘Unos forasteros!"
Both of you immediately turned toward the source of the voice.
"Looks like we're about to have company..." you murmured dryly, giving your gear one last check as you took a small step back from the front door.
"I hope they're not as friendly as the last one," Leon replied.
A quiet snort escaped you just as the front door suddenly burst open.
You couldn't tell exactly how many villagers had gathered outside, but there were more than enough to become a problem.
Your back brushed against Leon's chest, and only then did you realize you had instinctively drifted into his space.
You felt his breath catch. It was barely audible, but you heard it.
Focus.
You immediately stepped forward, putting some distance between the two of you.
There wasn't time to dwell on whatever that had been.
One of the villagers swung a rake at you and you ducked beneath it, fired a single shot, and watched as the woman crumple to the floor.
More villagers step into the cottage through shattered windows and the splintered doorway.
You and Leon fought back-to-back, holding them off as best you could, but there were far more of them than either of you had anticipated.
"We've got to get out of here!" you shouted, shooting a villager who had managed to slip in behind Leon before he could strike.
Leon answered with a curt no of agreement and reached into one of his pouches, pulling out a flash grenade. "Close your eyes!"
He yanked out the pin and threw it to the floor.
Without hesitation, you squeezed your eyes shut as a blinding flash engulfed the cottage.
Before you could regain your bearings, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist, guiding you through the doorway.
You blinked against the lingering white spots dancing across your vision and found yourself face-to-face with Leon.
"Come on." He grabbed your wrist and pulled you after him whilst the villagers slowly recovered from the flash.
You didn't argue.
The two of you sprinted through the village, firing at anyone who got close enough to block your escape.
You moved as though you'd trained together for years, covering each other's blind spots and keeping one another alive without needing to exchange a single word.
But ammunition wasn't infinite, and there were simply too many of them.
"I've only got two rounds left!" you shouted over the chaos.
"I've got five!" Leon called back.
Great.
You reached for your knife, preparing for the inevitable.
But then a church bell rang.
The sound echoed throughout the village, and to your surprise, every villager froze where they stood.
One by one, they lowered their weapons.
"What...?" Confusion washed over you as you slowly lowered your pistol.
Without acknowledging either of you, the villagers began muttering quietly among themselves, their movements strangely mechanical as they shuffled away toward the church, as if they were in a trance.
"Where's everyone going?" Leon muttered. "Bingo?"
Despite everything, a short laugh escaped you.
"As long as they leave, I don't care where they're going." You holstered your pistol with a relieved sigh.
Leon let out a quiet huff in agreement at that.
Your radio suddenly crackled to life and Ada's voice came through the static, barely recognizable beneath the interference.
You immediately grabbed it. "Ada? Ada, do you copy?"
Leon watched you from the corner of his eye, a faint crease forming between his brows.
However, only static answered.
With an irritated exhale, you lowered the radio and shoved it back into your pocket. "Fuck."
You reached into your gear and pulled out the grappling launcher Wesker had gave to both you and Ada. Aiming toward the roof of a nearby building, you prepared to leave.
Noticing what you were about to do, Leon stepped toward you. "Hey. Where are you going?"
"I've got a mission to finish." You spared him one last glance before pulling the trigger.
The grappling hook shot forward, anchoring itself securely, and just a moment later, you were up in the air, swinging effortlessly onto the rooftop before landing with practiced grace.
Leon watched from below, a slight frown lingering on his face.
"Don't get yourself killed." you called down.
Then, before he could answer, you fired the hook again, catching the branch of a nearby pine tree, and with one final swing, you disappeared beyond the rooftops, leaving the village behind.
You landed lightly atop one of the towering pine trees that surrounded Valdelobos, balancing effortlessly on one of its thick branches. Reaching into your gear, you pulled out your radio, hoping the higher vantage point would give you a better signal.
"Ada? Ada, are you there?" you asked into the device, trying to establish contact.
Nothing but static answered you.
The radio crackled with interference before falling silent once more.
You let out a quiet sigh, frustration creeping in.
Just as you were about to put the radio away, Ada's voice suddenly cut through the static, calling out your name. "...I hear you. Do you copy?"
Relief washed over you, releasing a long breath and immediately raising the radio back to your mouth.
"Hey, yeah. I copy. What's your situation?"
"I'm going after Luis. It looks like he ran into some trouble." Even through the interference, you could hear the irritation in her voice.
"Gonna play babysitter?" You couldn't help yourself as a small smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. The thought amused you.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny." There was a brief pause before she added, "Did you enjoy yourself with your blond cop puppy?"
Your smile vanished inmediately.
"How- "
"Who do you think rang the bell?"
Now it was her turn to sound amused.
"Well, for your information, we did not have fun," you huffed defensively. "Half the village was trying to cave our heads in. That's not exactly my definition of fun."
"Sure. Just make sure your dog doesn't get in the way."
A faint frown crossed your face. "He's not my dog."
"Whatever." Ada sounded truthfully unconvinced. "I'll let you know when I find Luis. Then we'll regroup."
You fell silent, weighing your options before responding. "And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"Look around. Figure out what the hell is going on in this place. Luis is supposed to lead us to the Amber, but if that fails, we'll have to find it ourselves."
You gave a small nod before remembering she couldn't see you.
"Got it."
"I'll keep in touch. See you later."
A quiet chuckle escaped you.
"Yeah" you replied, a faint smile returning to your face. "See you later."
So that was exactly what you did.
You spent the next few hours moving through the village, carefully avoiding any direct confrontation with the villagers while quietly observing their behavior. Whenever they gathered to talk, you lingered just close enough to listen, hoping to overhear something useful.
They never mentioned the Amber, not even once.
What they did talk about were the foreigners wandering through the village. Four of them, according to their conversations.
You could easily guess who they meant - Ada, Luis, Leon, and you.
They also spoke of a girl, referring to her only as the "sacrificial lamb," whom you assumed was the same girl Leon had been searching for.
To your surprise, you managed to piece together quite a bit of valuable information.
The girl was now traveling with Leon. Both of them had been infected with a parasite called "Las Plagas." A man named Lord Saddler appeared to be the leader of whatever cult had taken root in the village. Somehow, Leon and Luis had escaped after being captured, and the villagers claimed Leon and the girl were making their way toward the castle.
You itched to contact Ada.
You hated being left on the sidelines while everyone else was out there fighting.
But you also knew that if Ada were captured, she would need someone to extract her, and you couldn't afford to jeopardize that.
The crackle of your radio pulled you from your thoughts as your name echoed through the speaker.
"Hey. Yeah, I copy," you replied, pulling the radio from your pocket and raising it so the built-in camera framed your face.
"Change of plans." Ada wasted no time getting to the point. Through the screen, you could see her walking through what looked like the corridors of the castle. "Apparently, Luis is pretty determined to help Leon and the girl. He's sent me to gather the ingredients needed to synthesize a cure for the parasite. I'll provide you the list he gave me. We'll gather it faster that way."
You took a moment to process everything she had said before giving a small nod. "Okay. Got it."
"Good. See you soon." A faint smirk crossed her lips before the transmission cut out.
You let out a quiet sigh.
She was always like this - doing things her own way, then expecting you to keep up.
And, admittedly, you always did. Partly because you were being paid to complete the mission. Partly because, despite everything, the two of you worked well together.
Still, it occasionally got on your nerves.
Pushing those thoughts aside, you tucked the radio back into your gear and set off toward the castle.
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According to the list Ada had sent you, only one ingredient remained.
The one hidden inside the Treasury Room.
After an exhaustive search, you came across a weathered piece of parchment describing a mechanism involving several shields. You'd imagine it had something to do with accessing the ingredient.
According to the diagram, three of the shields had to be struck in a specific sequence.
You drew your pistol and fired.
One. Two. Three.
The final shot echoed through the chamber and a soft rumble followed as a concealed drawer slid open inside the stone wall.
Without wasting a second, you retrieved the ingredient and slipped it safely into one of your pouches.
Just as you were about to contact Ada about your newest discovery, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor outside.
Your body reacted before your mind could.
You fired your grappling launcher into one of the heavy wooden ceiling beams and pulled yourself upward, hanging silently above the room where you'd remain hidden unless someone thought to look up.
The door creaked open. Whoever stood on the other side entered slowly, cautiously scanning the room as though expecting an ambush.
That alone told you they weren't one of the villagers.
A heartbeat later, a familiar blond-haired agent stepped inside, his pistol raised as he scanned the room.
You hated how a smile instinctively tugged at your lips the moment you saw him. Nonetheless, you smothered it almost immediately.
When his posture relaxed ever so slightly and the barrel of his pistol dipped a fraction, you made your move.
You released the cable, dropping from the ceiling, you crashed into his back, knocking him off his feet.
The two of you hit the stone floor hard, his pistol skidding across the room as a surprised gasp escaped him.
"It's been ages since I last saw you," you murmured playfully, pressing the edge of your knife lightly against the curve of his neck in a warning.
A quiet scoff left him. "Yeah. I was hoping for a better welcome."
You blinked. His unexpected boldness took you by surprise.
"I can imagine the kind of welcome you were hoping for," you replied, deciding to test just how far he was willing to push his luck.
Leon remained silent. Perhaps he'd decided it was wiser not to add fuel to the fire.
"Will you get off me?" he grumbled through gritted teeth, struggling beneath your weight.
A quiet scoff escaped you. You lowered the knife from his throat before climbing off him, taking a step back as you watched him push himself to his feet.
"I thought you were enjoying it," you murmured teasingly, sliding the knife back into its sheath.
He offered nothing but a low grunt in response.
"I thought you'd reunited with your missing girl," you said, watching him scan the room.
"Yeah." He replied dryly. "Ran into some trouble." He was deliberately withholding information.
That earned a quiet chuckle from you. "You? Running into trouble?" you asked with exaggerated surprise. "Now that's unexpected."
He tried to suppress it, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a faint smirk.
An intense silence stretched between you as your eyes locked, holding you both in a sudden, heavy trance. You were the first to break it, snapping out of the spell and averting your gaze.
Shaking your head, you took a step back.
"Well, good luck with your search." You made an attempt to brush past him, but his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around your wrist and holding you in the spot.
"What do you think you're doing?" Your entire body tensed and when you tried to pull away, his grip only tightened, prompting you to shoot him a sharp glare.
"Why do you always run away?" The question hit you like a slap across the face.
"Run away?" you shot back, your voice colder than intended. "I've got nothing else to say to you."
A humorless scoff escaped him, refusing to let your words get to him. "You always do this."
His eyes never left yours.
"You pull me in, flirt with me, make me think there's something between us... and the second it starts becoming real - when things get even a little more personal - you run.
His jaw tightened as he spoke. "Then the next time we meet, we start all over again."
Your lips parted, but no sound came. You wanted to argue, to draw your weapon and force him to let you go, but you remained rooted to the spot. Because deep down, you knew he was entirely right.
"You don't get to keep doing this," he continued, his voice low but strained with frustration. "You don't get to save me, sweet-talk me, make me believe there's a chance... and then disappear every single time."
His grip loosened just enough to stop feeling forceful. "It's not fair." His chest rose and fell with each controlled breath. "You don't get to protect your own feelings while pretending mine don't exist."
"There are no feelings." You managed to spit out, though your hands trembled. Pushing him away wasn't an option this time; he was making sure of that.
Leon let out a disbelieving laugh. "Seriously?"
His eyes searched yours, almost pleading for you to stop lying. "You're really going to tell me that none of it means anything?"
He took a small step closer.
"That we know each other so well we can predict each other's next move, the smiles neither of us can hide, the fact that you've had countless chances to kill me..." He paused, his gaze softening just enough to make your chest tighten. "...and you never have."
His voice was barely above a whisper. "And somehow that's supposed to mean nothing?"
"I'm not a good person," you whispered, your jaw tightening in a desperate attempt to hold back your tears. "I kill. I deceive. I betray. I'm a mercenary."
Your voice faltered. "People like us... people like me..." You swallowed hard. "You and I- we'd never work."
Leon's own eyes began to glisten. His mouth parted as if to object, but you rushed on before he could speak. "You've- you've been through so much. You deserve better. So much better, Leon." You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes as a shaky breath escaped you.
"And one day, youβre going to wake up, look at me, and realize I can never give you the life that you want." Your voice cracked on the final words.
His lips trembled as he took a step closer, his eyes desperately searching yours, begging you to understand - begging you to just give in. Give in to him.
Slowly, he took another step closer. "I want you." His voice was quiet, but unwavering. "I don't need anything else and I don't care if I deserve better," he said, pausing as his breath hitched. "I choose you. Choose me." The final words slipped from his lips like a quiet, desperate plea.
He was baring his soul to you. It was as if he were breaking open his own chest to expose his raw, beating heart - placing it directly into your hands and trusting you completely not to let it drop.
"Leon," you murmured, your voice carrying a firm, warning edge as you tried to take a step back.
"No." He refused to let you go. "I love you."
The words nearly made you drop the very ingredient you had almost forgotten Ada sent you to retrieve.
"Leon⦠I have to go." Your tone lost its steel, softening into a plea, like you were begging him to let you walk away.
"And I waited for you," he said quietly, ignoring your words." Because⦠somehow, I hoped⦠I figured you'd love me." His grip shifting down from your wrist to slide his fingers between yours, holding your hand instead.
"Leon," you repeated, more firmly this time. "And what if I say yes? Do you honestly think the government, the DSO, will just forgive everything I've done?" you murmured with a bitter edge of irony
"I'll make them." The answer came without hesitation. "I'll convince them. You canβ¦" His voice rushed ahead of his thoughts, desperate to find a solution. "You can join me."
"That's the problem, Leon. I'm not like you." You shook your head. "That's not who I am." Your voice cracked and you let out a shaky breath. "I'm not kind."
Another.
"I'm not selfless." Your eyes finally met his. "And I'm certainly not perfect."
You laughed bitterly at the irony of the situation. "I don't save people."
"And I love you." Leon didn't hesitate.
"Stop."
"I love you," he repeated.
"Please." You lowered your gaze, unable to hold his eyes any longer.
"Come with me. Complete your mission, and then come with me." He leaned in so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath, his nose almost grazing yours.
You kept your eyes locked on the floor, but you didn't pull back this time. He was slowly breaking down your walls, and he knew it.
He took your silence as permission to keep trying.
"Umbrella won't be able to touch you if you join us." His voice remained calm, gentle. "And if they try..." A faint smile crossed his lips. "...they'll have to get through me first."
He paused, searching your face. "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone."
His hands slowly rose until they were cradling your face. His palms rested against your cheeks as though you were something impossibly fragile. No one had ever treated you like that.
His thumbs brushed gently back and forth across your skin in slow, comforting strokes. "Just finish your mission..." His forehead almost touched yours. "...and then leave all of this behind with me."
You swallowed against the lump that had formed in your throat.
You wanted to. God, you wanted to. Everything he was saying sounded so... perfect.
And that was exactly why you couldn't believe it.
Not with you.
Because you didn't deserve it.
You didn't deserve him.
As though sensing the storm raging inside your head, Leon leaned impossibly closer. His lips barely brushed yours - a featherlight touch that lingered on the edge of becoming something more.
But he didn't cross that line. Not until you let him.
"I know what you're thinking," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. "And I want you to know..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I've been there too."
His eyes searched yours. "I know what it's like to believe you're meant to be alone."
A sad smile flickered across his face. "But you're not." His thumb gently traced your cheek. "No one deserves that." Another pause. "Not even you."
His voice was barely above a whisper now. "So let me help you."
His forehead rested lightly against yours. "You've saved me more times than I can count." A faint, almost self-conscious smile tugged at his lips. "Let me do the same for you."
Fuck.
He really did know exactly how to make your walls crumble.
Your answer came in the smallest of nods.
Barely perceptible. But Leon caught it. He always noticed the little things when it came to you.
His lips found yours in a kiss so gentle it was almost hesitant. As though you were made of delicate glass and he feared that too much pressure might shatter you.
It lasted only a few seconds before he reluctantly pulled away.
"Is this okay?" he whispered, searching your expression.
He wasn't asking because he doubted himself. He was asking because he wanted to be certain. Certain that this was what you wanted.
Unable to find your voice, you simply nodded again. Relief softened his features.
He smiled - a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes. Then he leaned in once more.
This time, his lips met yours with quiet certainty. The kiss remained slow and unhurried, each gentle movement conveying everything words had failed to express.
He progressively deepened the kiss, pouring every unspoken thought, feeling, and ounce of devotion he had directly into you.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right.
You let out a quiet sigh. I'm going to regret this.
"Okay," you said at last. "I'll finish the mission... and then we'll go."
The smile that spread across Leon's face was unlike anything you had ever seen.You hadn't even thought he was capable of smiling like that.
It was bright. Unrestrained. Hopeful.
His grip on you loosened, allowing you to slip from his hands.
You took a few steps backward before making your way toward one of the Treasury Room's tall windows and pushing it open.
"Hey." His voice stopped you.
You paused, glancing back at him over your shoulder.
"I trust you." Three simple words.
But they carried far more weight than they seemed to.
I trust you'll keep your promise.
He never said it aloud. He didn't have to.
You could see it in his eyes.
Beneath the relief and happiness, there was still fear.
He had handed you his heart. Now all he could do was trust that you wouldn't break it.
You didn't answer, instead just offering him a small nod before slipping through the window and disappearing from his sight.
As soon as you landed, your hand instinctively reached for your radio.
"Ada," you said as soon as the connection came through. "I've got what you needed."
You heard her release a quiet sigh of relief. "Good. I'll send you my location. I'm with Luis."
The transmission ended almost immediately.
You let out a long, weary breath before setting off toward the location she'd sent you.
When you finally arrived, you spotted Ada and Luis waiting nearby.
Without wasting any time, you tossed the ingredient toward Luis.
He caught it effortlessly, a satisfied smile crossing his face.
"There you go," you said. "Now hand over the Amber."
"SΓ, of course." He nodded, his thick Spanish accent coloring every word. "I've got it right here."
He reached into his jacket and carefully pulled out a small container. Inside rested the Amber.
The instant it came into view, Ada's hand flew to her head as a pained gasp escaped her lips. She crumpled to the ground not long after.
Dark veins spread rapidly beneath her skin, branching across her face and disappearing beneath the collar of her suit.
You were at her side in an instant, dropping to one knee. "Hey... hey, what's wrong?" You rested a hand on her shoulder, trying to steady her.
Luis's expression immediately darkened.
"The parasite..." he muttered, glancing between the Amber and Ada. "...It's reacting to the Amber."
Your stomach sank. So she's infected.
You looked back at Luis. "And what do we do now?"
Without another word, he hurried to prepare what appeared to be some kind of injectable serum.
Once it was ready, he knelt beside Ada.
"This should suppress the parasite for a while," he explained as he readied the injection. "But it isn't a permanent cure."
Luis quickly filled a syringe with a strange purple liquid before carefully injecting it into Ada's neck.
For a brief moment, nothing happened. But then a thunderous roar echoed from right behind Luis. You snapped your gaze past his shoulder, and your eyes met a grotesque figure draped in black robes. Its face was horribly inhuman, its features twisted into something insect-like, and every heavy step it took seemed to shake the stone beneath its feet.
"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. You quickly hauled Ada to her feet, draping her arm over your shoulders so she could lean her weight against you.
"Why isn't the serum working?" Luis muttered to himself, hurrying over to help you steady her.
"Stop." Ada's voice was strained.
She winced, one hand pressed tightly against her temple as though fighting a blinding headache. "He's here for me. You two need to leave."
You shot her an incredulous glare. "There's no way I'm leaving you alone with...whatever that is."
"We have to complete the mission." Her voice remained firm despite the pain. "That's the priority."
Silence fell between you. As much as you hated it, she was right.
Letting out an irritated sigh, you gently guided her back until she was propped up against the stone wall. "Contact me when this is all over" you ordered firmly.
Before she could argue, you grabbed Luis by the wrist, slung his arm over your shoulders, and aimed your grappling hook at one of the castle's high towers. With a sharp click, the cable winched tight, launching the two of you up into the air.
The moment your boots hit the stone floor of the tower, you shoved Luis back, breaking contact instantly. "The Amber." You thrust your held out your hand, palm up expectantly. "Give it to me." You were completely out of patience and just wanted everything to end as soon as possible.
"Wait! I have to take care of something first," Luis blurted out, taking a panicked step backward. "I promise it'll only take a minute. Then I'll hand over the Amber."
You took a slow step toward him, shaking your head. "No." Your tone left no room for negotiation. "We've given you enough chances." Another step. "The Amber." You extended your hand again. "Now."
He went quiet, his eyes darting around as he scrambled for an excuse to buy himself some time. Suddenly, something clicked, and a clever grin spread across his face. "Leon."
Your expression inmediately hardened at the mention of his name.
"You know him, don't you? The blond American agent?"
You cut him off before he could continue, taking another step forward, Luis instinctively backing away until his lower back brushed against the tower's railing.
"Yes," you said flatly. "I know him. What does that have to do with the Amber?"
"He and the girl, Ashley⦠they need my help," Luis explained, his tone turning serious. "They're both infected with Las Plagas, and time is running out."
You didn't answer, your mind was already racing.
Your mission was to retrieve the Amber.
Ada was infected. Leon was infected. Ashley was infected.
You let out a long, frustrated sigh before pinching the bridge of your nose.
"This is such a fucking messβ¦" You muttered under your breath, before redirecting your attention back to Luis.
"Fucking fine. But this is your last chance. If you fail me again, there won't be a next time." You offered a lethal glare at him, making sure the warning hit home.
He nodded so quickly you thought his head might come off. "Of course! Of course! You have my word. See you later, princesa." He flashed you a quick wink, threw open the wooden trapdoor on the floor, and eagerly disappeared down the spiral stairs.
Only after the hatch closed behind him did you let out a long, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down your face, you stared out over the castle grounds.
This mission was becoming far more complicated than it was supposed to.
π£β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§π£
A few minutes later, Ada's voice cracked through your comms. Whatever Luis had injected her with had finally taken effect, her breathing sounding much steadier.
The two of you agreed to regroup and make your way toward Luis's last known location. However, only a few moments later, he contacted you again.
His voice was frantic, breathles. He told you two a man named Krauser had taken the Amber. The transmission abruptly cut out shortly after.
Neither of you needed to say it aloud. Luis was probably dead.
With Krauser now in possession of the Amber, you and Ada decided to approach the island separately. If one of you ran into trouble, the other would still have a chance of completing the mission.
So you climbed into your own boat and headed toward the island where Krauser had supposedly gone.
After an hour of chasing ghosts across the dark, jagged cliffs of the island, you decided to check in on Ada, pulling out your radio and dialing her frequency.
There was no response.
You tried again, but only static whispered back.
This time, it wasn't the signal. She simply wasn't answering.
Unease tightening in your chest, using the tracking function built into your communicator, you locked onto the last location her radio had transmitted from.
"Adaβ¦" Her name slipped from your lips in a breathless whisper when you arrived.
Ada hung suspended several feet above the ground, her wrists bound by steel cables, seemingly uncouncious.
You took a tense step forward, but before you could make your move, a heavy hand firmly gripped your shoulder. Your hand flew instinctively to your holster, but you froze as a familiar scent washed over you - gunpowder, leather, and a faint trace of pine.
"Hey. What are you doing here?" Leonβs low voice murmured behind you, his grip softening into a brief, reassuring squeeze.
You didn't say a word, merely offering a tight nod and gesturing towards the spot where Ada's body was hanging.
Leon followed your gaze and his jaw tightened. "...Fuck." The curse slipped quietly from his lips as he lowered his hand and stepped up beside you.
"Where's Ashley?" you asked, your eyes never leaving Ada as your mind raced, trying to come up with a plan to free her.
Leon didn't question how you knew Ashley's name, though he did give you a brief, curious glance before returning his attention to Ada.
"She's somewhere safe," he replied.
"Good."
That was all the acknowledgment you gave. In one fluid motion, you unholstered your grappling gun and fired it at the high metal platform above Ada.
The cable zipped tight, launching you into the air. Swinging alongside her suspended form, you drew your knife, sliced through the binding cables in a single clean sweep, and caught her against your chest.
Using your momentum to glide down, you landed lightly on the ground, cradling her in your arms.
You set her down gently, supporting her back as she groaned, her dark eyes fluttering open. "Hey. You with me?" you asked softly, helping her sit up as she winced against the pain.
Behind you, the heavy thud of Leonβs combat boots drew closer.
"Yeah. Peachy." She murmured, her signature dry wit intact. She pushed herself up to stand, and you let go the moment she found her footing.
"You should probably warn me before you do something like that again." He said, his face remaining as stoic as ever despite the amusement hiding in his voice.
Before you could fire back a retort, a swarm of grotesque, insect-like creatures burst from the darkness, circling Leon in a frenzy.
Your hand flew toward your pistol but before you could draw it, a figure materialized between you and Leon, his back facing you.
One of his arms twisted violently, flesh reshaping itself into a writhing, blade-like tentacle.
In one swift motion, it lashed around Leon's throat and he was yanked off the ground. His hands clawed at the appendage as it tightened around his neck, slowly choking the air from his lungs.
Without hesitating, you raised your weapon and fired a rapid succession of rounds into the monster's back. You knew it wouldn't do much more than annoy him, but you just needed to draw his attention away from Leon.
And it worked.
The creature released Leon, letting him crash back onto the ground before turning toward you.
But as it lunged to strike, a flash of red cut through the air. Her grappling launcher propelled her through the air in a blur.
She drove a vicious kick straight into his chest, sending him stumbling backward just long enough to throw him off balance.
The sudden distraction gave you the perfect opening to rush to Leon's side, grabbing his arm and helping him back to his feet.
"I'm okay." You hadn't even asked.
He simply met your eyes for a brief moment, offering a reassuring look before raising his pistol once more to face the towering figure you could only assume was Lord Saddler.
Ada dropped down beside you, her own weapon raised. The three of you stood in a tense, defensive line, guns trained on the self-proclaimed god.
"You two, go!" Leon shouted, never taking his eyes off Saddler as the creature took another step closer. "I'll handle him!"
"No way- !" The protest died on your lips as Ada cut you off.
She lowered her gun, her expression cold and calculating. "Come on," she said.
Before you could protest, she wrapped a slender, iron-gripped arm around your waist and fired her grappling hook.
The cable snapped taut, tearing you both away from the immediate chaos and depositing you onto a high metal catwalk several meters above the arena.
"No!" You immediately shoved her arm away, your face flushed with anger and adrenaline. "Ada, what the hell are you doing?"
"We would've only gotten in his way," she replied calmly, glancing back toward the fight. "He's capable of beating Saddler on his own."
She paused, sensing your agitation, before adding, "And besides... we can still help him from out here."
Her eyes drifted toward a nearby platform. "There's a rocket launcher stored nearby." A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"If anyone can finish him off with that thing..." She looked back toward Leon. "...it's him."
You stood there for a moment, your breathing uneven.
Finally, you closed your eyes and took a slow, steady breath. "...Okay. Lead the way."
Together, you carved a path through Saddler's followers, cutting down the cultists that stood between you and the launcher while taking every opportunity to provide covering fire for Leon, gradually wearing Saddler down from a distance.
Eventually, you reached the rocket launcher. Without wasting another second, the two of you hurried back to the battlefield where Leon was still fighting.
"Hey! Leon" You called his name, hefting the rocket launcher onto your shoulder.
The moment he heard your voice he snapped his head up. You leaned over the railing and threw the heavy launcher down to him. He caught it out of the air in one fluid motion, shouldered it, and pulled the trigger.
The rocket struck Saddler dead-center, triggering a blinding, concussive explosion that tore the parasite to pieces and knocking Leon back from the impact.
And the amber sample skittered across the concrete, coming to a halt right next to Leon's hand.
Ada was already moving, dropping down to the arena floor. You followed close behind, a quiet wave of relief washing over you as you knelt beside Leon.
Just as his fingers brushed the glass of the vial, you reached down and snatched the Amber right out from under him.
"This is what you were after?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. A quiet grunt escaped him as he pushed himself into a sitting position.
"Uh-huh." You briefly inspected the sample to make sure it hadn't been damaged.
Satisfied, you tossed it casually to Ada, who caught it out of the air with an effortless flick of her wrist.
The rhythmic thrum of a helicopter's rotors shattered the silence, interrupting the moment.
You and Ada turned toward the aircraft as it descended.
A faint, knowing smirk touched Adaβs lips. "Ride's here." She cast a brief glance back at you before turning to walk toward the waiting vehicle.
You were about to follow when you felt it.
The heavy, burning weight of Leon's gaze, it settled against your back like a physical touch, making your steps falter.
Your boots scraped against the concrete as you halted.
Slowly, you turned back to face him. He didnβt say a word. He just stood there, looking at you with a quiet, expectant sorrow tempered only by a fragile hope that you might choose to stay.
That made your chest tighten.
. You stood rooted to the spot, caught in his blue eyes, completely unable to look away - and completely unable to speak.
"You coming?" Adaβs voice called out over the roar of the engines.
You turned toward her, watching as she stepped into the helicopter, your eyes lingering on her.
You looked down, your fists clenching at your sides as your mind went entirely blank.
Leon.
Ada let out a quiet chuckle, there was amusement in it, but beneath that lay something softer. More bittersweet. "You're not getting on this helicopter, are you?" She smiled at you knowingly, as though she'd already read the answer on your face.
You offered her nothing but silence, your eyes still fixed on the floor.
"Here."
Her voice drew your attention upward just in time to catch the keys she tossed in your direction.
"You two should get out of here," she said. "Before this whole place blows." It was the last thing she said to you before the helicopter lifted into the sky, disappearing into the distance and leaving you and Leon alone on the platform.
You looked down at the keys in your palm, a faint, genuine smile finally breaking across your face when you noticed the cute little toy bear keychain attached to them.
"Cute," a low voice murmured right beside your ear.
The sudden proximity made you gasp, jumping slightly.
Leon let out a soft, rumbling chuckle, his expression incredibly warm as he looked down at you. "You did the right thing," he said softly. He reached out, his hand sliding gently over your wrist. He didn't pull away, instead, his thumb brushed slowly, soothingly against your skin.
You let out a long, trembling exhale, all the leftover tension leaving your shoulders as you melted into his touch.
"Let's go," he whispered.
He kept a gentle grip on your hand as he guided you down to the lower levels where Ashley had been waiting.
The young girl jumped slightly as you appeared, her eyes wide. "Who⦠who is that?" she asked, her voice trembling, clearly a little wary.
Leon glanced at you before answering. "She's..." The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. "...a friend."
"It's alright. She's coming with us." Leon assured her, his voice calm and grounding as he looked back at Ashley.
You noticed Ashley's eyes flicker down to your joined hands.
She studied them for a moment before giving a quiet nod, accepting Leon's explanation without another question.
The three of you hurried through the collapsing facility until you reached the dock, where Ada had left your escape vehicle waiting.
Leon's lips curled into an appreciative grin. "Hm... not bad, Ada."
You couldn't help but laugh softly. She really was impossible to predict.
The three of you climbed onto the jet ski, Leon taking the front while you settled behind him. Ashley climbed on last, wrapping her arms around your waist.
"Hold on," Leon murmured as the engine roared to life beneath you.
He accelerated without hesitation, handling the powerful jet ski with a level of skill that made you wonder just how much experience he had with these things.
Your arms instinctively slipped around his waist, and you felt Ashley tighten her own grip around you as the jet ski skimmed across the water.
Massive chunks of rock crashed around you while the cavern collapsed, and Leon navigated through them flawlessly.
Then Leon spotted a ramp ahead.
He gunned the engine, launching the jet ski high into the open sky just as a massive, blinding explosion tore the island apart behind you.
The shockwave rippled across the sea as the jet ski splashed back onto the water.
A breathless laugh escaped you. It was finally over.
Leon turned his head at the sound, a soft, genuine smile blooming across his face as his eyes found yours.
As your eyes locked with his, the lingering adrenaline, fear, and unease completely evaporated. In their place was an overwhelming wave of safety, comfort, and absolute certainty.
Because that was what Leon Kennedy had become to you, love.
And you couldn't wait to experience that with him.
π£β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§β§Β°. βΰΌΊβ±ΰΌ»β. Β°β§π£
Who rushed the ending because they wanted to get it over with?
STOP PUTTING YOUR OC UNDER βX READERβ!!!!! I DONT WANT TO READ YOUR STINKY LOVE STORY, *I* WANT TO BE THE LOVE STORY!!!!
When i smell that there is going to be a pregnant trope in the fic...
Two Wrongs Make a Right [ Re2!Leon X RookieCop!Reader ]
IN WHICH,
For months at the academy, Leon Kennedy and Y/N L/N were nothing but rival names on a leaderboard, each constructing a wildly inaccurate, mildly irritating mental profile of the other. When they finally cross paths as greenhorn rookies on their first day at the Raccoon City Police Department, the petty rivalry melts into a sudden, undeniable spark. Forced into close proximity as the precinct's newest recruits, they navigate the eccentricities of small-town policing while realizing their assumptions couldn't have been more wrong. As buried feelings and unspoken tension come to a head under the watchful eyes of their colleagues, a sudden flash of jealousy forces a soft-spoken rookie to finally make his move.
β°ββ€ Pairing: Rookie!Leon S. Kennedy x Rookie!Reader
β°ββ€ Setting: Raccoon City Police Department (Complete Non-Bioterrorism/Normal World AU)
β°ββ€ Tropes: Academy Rivals-to-Lovers, Miscommunication/Wrong Impressions, Forced Proximity, Shy Leon, Mutual Pining, Cute Jealousy.
β°ββ€ Series.
Chapter Index :
Chapter 1: Scoreboard Phantom
Chapter 2: Desk Duty & Disillusion
Chapter 3: The Rookie Rotation
Chapter 4: Coffee Runs and Close Quarters
Chapter 5: Shift Work and Shared Secrets
Chapter 6: Enter the Senior Officer
Chapter 7: Green-Eyed Monster
Chapter 8: Downpour and Breaking Point (tba)
Chapter 9 : After The Stormβs When The Flowers Bloom (tba)
Chapter 10 : Clear Skies Over Victory Boulevard (tba)
Tag list for this series is closed! To stay up to date with the upcoming chapters, follow and turn on post notifications! Β©οΈpopo
A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS
AERION TARGARYEN
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httyd shit posts and asks
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ΰ¦ INCANDESCENCE
FEATURING: aerion targaryen x fem!reader
SUMMARY: you meet a dragon prince on the shores of lys, and after five years of colorless boredom, your world is suddenly filled with light again. or, two exiles find entertainment with one another, and the world suffers for it.
WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is implied to come from valyrian lineage but no physical traits are mentioned/described, reader is a bored shit stirrer who lives for the thrill and aerion is aerion (he's a warning on his own), reader has quite an uh colorful personality of her own, liberal use of whore, aerion is rude and reader lowkey gets off on antagonizing him (she wants him BAD, in her defense, she's been terribly bored for 5 years), public sex/exhibitionism/voyuerism, rough sex, blood play, switch!reader (dom!leaning), switch!aerion (sub!leaning), but both of them fight for control LOL. WC: 9.6k-ish
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Carina's great return to writing for asoiaf ....... nobody understands just how crazy this is to me, I had a 6 year fixation on asoiaf from 15 to 21, and now sitting here writing it again after so long ........... madness ....... BUT IT FEELS SO NICE EUHUHUUH, IT'S LIKE COMING HOME </33 anyway I had so much fun with this fic, and I probably will make it a series of connected one shots because I have a lot of ideas I want to write for this concept. I have a whole background already built for our girl reader that I really would like to explore, and would also like to delve into Aerion POV because I think it would be fun LOL. I think I made it pretty obvious where reader is from in her narration, but trust there is a STORY behind her exile. I feel like I had more to say but I canβt remember. Comments and reblogs always appreciated!! Mwah mwah
READ: BEWITCHED
screaming, crying, throwing up. the babygirl mama's boy to tragic death pipeline is too strong
where gold bleeds green - masterlist
a rose crowned in thorns
years after robert's rebellion, tywin lannister sought to secure his name through his eldest son. and you, the eldest granddaughter of olenna tyrell, seemed the only reasonable option. but, as the kingdom stirs, secrets fester, loyalties shift, and truths become near impossible to ignore, you begin to wonder if a love born of duty can withstand it all.
tyrell!reader, age gap sorry not sorry
word count: 106.5k
baela and rhaena at the battle of the gullet
Set in Sand [rewritten] - Masterlist
While visiting your friend, you accidentally manage to go back in time and find yourself stranded on a mountain with a group of outlaws. As you make your name known in the history books for your friend to find you, you try to navigate through the sudden change in your life, all the new dangers and your blooming feelings for a certain outlaw.
Tags: spoilers for rdr2, graphic depiction of violence, fem!reader, modern!reader, low honor Arthur to high honor, slow burn, time travel, eventual smut, explicit sexual content, angst, sexual harassment, smoking, drinking, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence, Arthur has no TB
Ao3
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 -
Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 -
Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 -
Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16-
Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20-
Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24-
Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28-
Chapter 29 - Chapter 30 - Chapter 31 - Chapter 32 -
Chapter 33 - Chapter 34 - Chapter 35 - Chapter 36 -
Chapter 37 - Chapter 38 - Chapter 39 - Chapter 40 -
Chapter 41 - Chapter 42 - Chapter 43 - ...
girls when they canβt find fanfics about the character theyβre currently obsessed with :
(itβs me, iβm girls. iβve already read them all)
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π©πΊπΌπΊπΎπππ π΅πΎπ πΊππππ π πππππΎπ! π±πΎπΊπ½πΎπ
Warnings: No smut. Incest. Reader feels guilty asf. Jacaerys is engaged with Baela but neither of them want it. Kinda canon-divergence? Jacaerys and Reader YEARNING. Reader gaslights herself.
WC: 2559
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You and Jacaerys had always been close.
He had been born only a few months before you, but the moment your crib had been placed beside his, his tiny hand had reached out to grasp yours.
Throughout your childhood, the two of you were almost never seen apart. You accompanied him to his training sessions, wandered together through the flower gardens of the Red Keep, and soared across the skies on the backs of your dragons.
You had earned the privilege of being the only one allowed to call him Jace, while he alone was permitted to touch your food - a territory fiercely protected otherwise.
It was undeniable that the two of you had forged an unbreakable bond, and as the years passed, more and more people began to wonder if it had become far too intimate for what was considered appropriate.
But neither of you paid those whispers any mind. After all, the two of you knew exactly what it was, didn't you? A harmless, fraternal love, identical to the affection you harbored for Lucerys.
Or so you had forced yourself to believe.
Then why had your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach when Jacaerys's betrothal to Baela was announced?
She was your best friend, and he was your brother. You were happy for them.
You truly were.
Right?
You found him a few days later, standing at the edge of a balcony at dawn, quietly admiring the horizon. His gaze was distant, lost in thoughts he seemed unable to escape.
Stepping forward, you decided to bridge the silence.
"What are you looking at, brother?"
Your voice seemed to startle him; he clearly hadn't expected anyone to find him there.
A faint smile tugged at his lips when he saw you. His features softened, his entire demeanor seeming to brighten in your presence instinctively, though you swiftly reminded yourself that such warmth was merely the standard affection he owed his sister.
"I was merely thinking," he replied, now giving you his full attention. "What are you doing here?"
There was no reprimand in his tone, only quiet curiosity.
"I was looking for you." You noticed the way his smile widened, and before you could dwell on what it meant, you hurried to continue. "I wanted to congratulate you on your marriage."
The smile vanished from his face almost instantly. He turned away, lifting his eyes back toward the pale morning sky, carefully avoiding your gaze.
"We are not wed yet."
Disturbed by his sudden downcast demeanor, you desperately tried to lift his spirits. "Baela is beautiful, and she's incredibly kind. She's my friend - I can assure you that you won't find a more perfect match."
You offered the words with a gentle smile, though a suffocating lump was already tightening in your throat. Every syllable felt like ash on your tongue, choking you before you could betray yourself further.
You knew your reassurance must have sounded hollow, almost poisonous, as though the truth had turned to venom before ever reaching your tongue, leaving it too tightly bound to speak what your heart truly wished to say.
"She is." You felt his eyes settle on you once more, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet them.
"But I find it cruel to be promised to one when my heart already belongs to another."
Every muscle in your body went rigid.
"Who?" The single word escaped in barely more than a whisper, laced with fear.
Because, deep down, you already knew the answer.
And you hated how desperately you longed to hear him say it.
He took a step closer.
Then another.
He closed the distance between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from him, his presence enveloping you with suffocating familiarity.
"I think you already know who, DubΔzma." (sister)
He whispered the High Valyrian word as though it were both a sacred confession and a sin he had long since committed within the silence of his own heart.
Your head snapped toward him, eyes widening in disbelief.
You had never expected him to be so shameless.
You had never expected him to say anything at all.
"Jace."
You intended his name to sound like a warning, sharp enough to stop him where he stood.
Instead, it escaped as a breathless, desperate plea.
Stop.
He answered by speaking your name in return, his brown eyes searching yours with quiet desperation, silently begging you to understand - to choose him.
"Please... we still have time. The betrothal was only announced a few days ago. If we speak to Mother- "
"No."
The refusal tore free before you could stop it. You took a hurried step backward, as though putting distance between your bodies might somehow build a wall between your hearts.
"Mother would be ashamed- "
"Mother would accept whatever makes us happy," he interrupted, his voice unwavering as he closed the distance between you once again. His gaze never left yours, searching every flicker of your expression for the smallest sign that his feelings were not his alone.
"It is not natural. It is... wrong."
The words scraped painfully against your throat. Tears stung your eyes as you forced them into the open. You retreated once more, only to find the cold stone balustrade pressing firmly against your back, leaving you with nowhere else to go.
"Do you know the history of our house?" A quiet, almost incredulous laugh escaped him, as though your objections were hopelessly naΓ―ve in the face of centuries of Valyrian tradition.
"That does not make it right."
"Does it truly become wrong simply because others deem it so?" he asked softly, leaning closer until the tip of his nose brushed against yours, his warm breath ghosting across your lips. "Is it wrong to love whoever your heart chooses?"
Your eyes fell to his lips against your own will as your throat tightened at your unbearable proximity.
He took your silence as permission and slowly, he leaned in, his lips barely grazing yours.
And as though a spell had suddenly been broken, you turned your head at the very last moment, successfully denying him the kiss.
"I..." The words died in your throat, leaving you unable to finish the sentence.
"Sorry." You didn't know why you apologized. It was simply the only word your mind seemed capable of producing.
Unable to bear the thought of seeing his expression, you quickly brushed past him, leaving him alone on the balcony.
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From that day forward, you avoided Jacaerys at every opportunity.
Whenever he entered a room, you suddenly found an urgent matter demanding your attention. Whenever he approached you, you somehow managed to disappear before he could reach you.
Everyone noticed.
How could they not? The two people the realm had long considered inseparable could no longer bear to remain in the same room.
As the days bled into weeks, the shadow of the war for the Iron Throne loomed ever larger. Yet even as you drifted apart, the silence between you spoke volumes - stolen, lingering glances in the corridors, suffocating tension over quiet dinners, and an agonizing friction during long tiring strategy meetings.
You had foolishly hoped that distance would offer a cure, but it only seemed to worsen the ache.
Sleep eluded you. Night after night, you were haunted by the memory of his lips, his gaze - the intense, unyielding way he looked at you, the way he had always looked at you.
He is betrothed to Baela.
It became a prayer you repeated to yourself over and over again, as though the words alone could silence the ache that tightened around your heart whenever he was absent.
You missed him.
That was the agonizing truth.
And it consumed you, a slow-acting poison in your veins. Were you truly so rotten? Had you no shred of honor left? To harbor such wretched, illicit feelings for your own brother. Your own blood.
You were sick.
That had to be it.
A disease.
One that had taken root inside you.
The tragic loss of Lucerys only seemed to deepen the ache.
A mother had lost her son. You and Jacaerys had lost a brother.
A profound, crushing loneliness settled deep within your bones. Your mother would sooner have set herself on fire than reveal even a fragment of her grief to her surviving children, concealing her agony behind walls of iron. And Baela, despite being your dearest friend, could never truly understand the hollow, all-consuming pain of losing a sibling.
So you mourned in isolation.
What cut the deepest was the knowledge that Jacaerys was drowning in the exact same sorrow, yet you could not reach out to comfort him. You yearned to be there for him, truly, but fear had always been your undoing.
You were preparing for bed when a soft, hesitant knock shattered the quiet of your chambers. Upon opening the door, you found Jacaerys standing on the threshold, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.
Your breath hitched in quiet surprise, and your hand instinctively moved to pull the door shut.
"Wait." His voice stopped your movement. It was a raw plea - a final, desperate attempt.
The vulnerability in that single word unraveled your resolve, leaving you incapable of shutting him out.
"Please- I- " His voice faltered in the dim candlelight. "I only want to talk. Like we used to."
Your grip tightened against the cold wood of the door handle. Every instinct urged you to refuse, to close the door and retreat behind the walls you had spent months constructing.
But you couldn't.
Instead, you stepped aside, drawing back to let him cross the threshold before softly closing the door behind him.
A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. It had been months- perhaps an entire lifetime- since you had been this close. What were you supposed to say? Forgive me for fleeing the moment our lips brushed?
Mercifully, he spared you from speaking first.
"I am sorry." He finally looked up, his eyes bright with unshed tears and profound remorse. "I should never have crossed that line. I only thought... I thought you felt it, too." He broke eye contact, unable to bear the weight of his own confession.
The devastation written across his features was too much to endure. "It wasn't... I didn't run because of the kiss," you confessed, your fingers twisting tightly into the delicate silk of your nightgown to ground your trembling hands.
His head snapped up.
"You... didn't?" His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and deeply hesitant with cautious hope. "Why, then?" A deep crease formed between his brows.
"Must you make me say it aloud? We are brother and sister," you rushed out, the words tumbling over one another in a desperate panic. How could he be so blind to the inherent wrongness of it?
His expression shifted into one of utter disbelief.
"You stopped speaking to me," he said, his voice shaking with a volatile mixture of confusion and rising hurt. "You made me believe I had destroyed everything. That you hated me."
He took a slow step closer.
"And all this time..." His voice cracked. "Mother and Daemon are wed. Uncle and niece."
"That does not make it right!" your voice cracked, desperate to bridge the distance between you, desperate for him to understand your agony.
"Do you love me?"
The question cut through the air, sudden and sharp. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and relentlessly searching.
Your breath caught painfully in your chest. "Jacaerys, that is beside the point- "
"Do you love me?" His voice was firmer this time, his hands curling into trembling fists at his sides.
Yet beneath the desperation, beneath the frustration, all you could see was fear.
Fear that you would deny him.
Fear that you already had.
Your hands trembled uncontrollably. Thought abandoned you; the very air felt trapped in your lungs. The room seemed to spin on its own as you stumbled a step backward.
"Jacaerys, please..." You scarcely knew what you were begging for. Your throat constricted as if bound by a tight knot, and you fought a losing battle against the hot tears stinging your eyes.
"Do you?" He was unraveling just as rapidly, your shared pain reflecting directly back into his own chest.
Closing your eyes, you felt a single tear slip down your cheek. The truth tore from your throat, heavy and devastating.
"I do."
A sharp gasp escaped his lips, as though your admission had physically stung him.
"Then- I- I do not understand," he managed, his voice cracking under the weight of his confusion. You could see the desperate effort in his eyes; Trying to understand you. Trying to understand everything you had done.
"I can't. Jace, we can't," you whispered, hurriedly brushing away your tears in a futile attempt to regain your composure.
"You love me. I love you." His brow furrowed, genuine bewilderment clouding his features. "Then what is stopping us?"
"Jace, we are- "
"Yes, we are siblings. You have made that abundantly clear," he interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose in sheer frustration.
You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting at the sheer audacity of his interruption.
Sensing the offense he had caused, his demeanor instantly softened. He took a cautious, agonizingly slow step forward, uttering your name like a sacred vow.
He spoke your name so gently it almost broke you.
"You know this self-inflicted distance is only destroying us," he murmured, his voice dropping to a vulnerable register. "What happened to Luke- " He choked on the name of your deceased brother, a shadow of grief crossing his face. "What if the same happened to one of us? Would you truly not grieve the way we left things between us?"
Your gaze dropped to the floor, heavy with the realization that he was entirely right. You knew he was.
When he extended a hand to cradle your cheek, your eyes instinctively fluttered shut at the warmth of his touch.
Gods, how you had starved for him.
And you loathed yourself for it. You hated the relentless ache his absence caused, and you hated the chaotic flutter in your chest whenever he drew near.
"Sister," he pleaded, his eyes imploring you to surrender. "Do not let fear rule you any longer. Allow yourself to want something, just this once. Let me⦠let us find happiness. Together."
And you knew if you refused him now, he would step away. He would never ask again. Because he respected your wishes. Because Jacaerys -your brother- loved you enough to place your happiness before his own.
Even if it destroyed him.
And so, you nodded.
It was the silent, almost imperceptible movement he had been waiting for. He leaned in, and this time, his lips met yours in a tender, breathless embrace. Your hands rose to cradle his jawline, losing yourself entirely to the intoxicating rush of the moment. Allowing yourself, for the first time, to stop fighting what your heart had always known.
Perhaps it was a sin, perhaps it was wrong, but in this stolen hour, the morality of the realm faded into nothingness.
None of it mattered.
Because, to you, Jacaerys was the only thing that had ever truly felt like home.
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I've been mourning his death for a while, so I had to write something for him.
Sorry if this is dookie
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α΄α΄ΚΙͺα΄Ι΄ α΄α΄ΚΙ’α΄ΚΚα΄Ι΄ x α΄α΄ΚΚΙͺα΄α΄ ! κ°α΄α΄α΄Κα΄! Κα΄α΄α΄ α΄Κ
I am kind of using this as a writing exercise for smut, because I have never written anything like that before. If the +18 part is ass blame it on that.
Wc: 6376
ππΊππππππ: infidelity, Smut +18, violence, non-canonical divergence, open ending, reader is mentioned to be older than Aerion.
Enjoy!! Λα΅Λ
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To be born a woman in Westeros meant but a single fate: to marry and bear children.
You were a mere four-and-ten when you were betrothed to your husband, a lord of House Frey. He was the sort of man people learned to obey long before they ever learned to respect him. Years had settled heavily upon him, leaving his face broad and weathered, his eyes sharp and calculating beneath heavy, hooded lids. His beard was perpetually unkempt, his attire rich but carelessly worn, as though he truly believed fine silks and heavy velvets could mask the physical decay beneath them. He reeked constantly of sour wine, carrying himself with the arrogant confidence of a man who had never once been told "no."
The man was easily more than twice your age. There was never a fleeting moment where he lacked some silver goblet of alcohol gripped tightly in his hand, his disheveled appearance a testament to his utter lack of effort - not that any amount of grooming could alter the rough nature of what lay underneath.
You despised him.
You loathed him for stealing away your freedom, for the lingering memory of his unwanted touch that felt permanently branded upon your skin since your wedding night. Most of all, you despised his blatant hypocrisy - the endless string of whores and sordid affairs he indulged in whenever he left your keep.
It was not jealousy; you could not have cared less whose bed he shared. In truth, you preferred it. The more time he wasted on his "mistresses," the less time he spent forcing his presence upon you.
No, your bitterness stemmed from the cruel double standard; while he enjoyed absolute license to satisfy his every whim, you were expected to remain confined at home, isolated and trapped within a union forced upon you by others.
Eventually, a quiet resignation settled over you. You sought refuge in books instead, disappearing into bound pages where the ugliness of your reality could not reach you.
Quiet, obedient, speaking only when spoken to - the very definition of a "good girl."
That was what the world demanded of you, and precisely what your parents had shaped you to become.
Yet beneath that calm exterior, perhaps all you had ever lacked was a catalyst. Someone to offer a gentle push, or better yet, someone to awaken the embers of the defiance you had buried for years.
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An invitation eventually arrived, summoning you and your lord husband to the Red Keep as guests for Prince Aerion Targaryenβs eighteenth name day. Such a milestone meant the occasion would be far more than a simple celebration of his birth; it was to be a grand courtship feast.
Lords from countless noble houses would descend upon the capital, their daughters desperate to win the Prince's favor.
Needless to say, you were absolutely waiting for it.
Note the heavy sarcasm.
And so, there you found yourself, seated at one of the grand banquet tables of the feast. Beside your dear husband, naturally - who was already thoroughly deep in his cups and making a spectacle of himself. He was currently forcing his unwanted attention upon a fellow lord's daughter, entirely oblivious to the fact that the poor girl looked utterly miserable in his presence.
As was your custom, you quietly observed your surroundings, finding a strange solace in imagining what the lives of these lords and ladies were truly like behind their polished facades. Just as you did with the characters in your beloved books, weaving these private fantasies became your most trusted ally in surviving celebrations such as this.
But as your gaze swept across the crowded, torch-lit hall of the Red Keep, a sudden prickle of unease washed over your skin. It felt distinctly as though a pair of eyes was boring into you from across the room - a heavy, lingering stare that you quickly dismissed as a mere trick of your overactive imagination.
The feast droned on, and by midnight, your husband had already abandoned his seat to chat and laugh boisterously with his fellow lords. You had never been one to enjoy grand gatherings overflowing with people. The constant noise grated upon your nerves, and since you spent most of the night practically abandoned, the entire affair bored you to tears.
Seeking escape, you retreated to the balcony. Seeing that it was vacant, you hoped to steal a fleeting moment of solace. The suffocating weight of the evening had overwhelmed you: the forced smiles, the loud laughter of men deep in their cups, the sheer monotony, and above all, that persistent sensation of eyes fixated on your skinβa feeling that had haunted you since the feast concluded and the after-dinner entertainment began.
Leaning against the stone railing, you looked down at the moonlit gardens of the Red Keep. The cool night air brushed gently against your skin, offering a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere you had left behind.
Closing your eyes, you drew in a deep breath and allowed the reality of the fortress to fade for a moment. You imagined a different life entirely -one where your fate belonged to you, where perhaps you might have been wed to a young man of your own choosing, rather than bound to a cruel, aging husband through the arrangements of others.
The crisp sound of approaching footsteps shattered your train of thought. You cursed quietly beneath your breath at the interruption of your rare moment of solitude, yet you kept your gaze firmly fixed upon the gardens below, refusing to turn around.
To your surprise, the intruder chose to stand right beside you, likewise leaning against the railing. Only then did you realize exactly who had joined you: the prince whose name day was being celebrated.
Prince Aerion bore the unmistakable, striking features of House Targaryen, though there was a sharp, dangerous edge to him that contrasted with the gentleness often associated with the blood of the dragon.
His silver-gold hair was cut short and perfectly styled, framing a face that seemed permanently molded into an expression of effortless superiority. His violet eyes were intense and calculating, always looking as though he were dissecting and judging everyone around him. Even among highborn nobles, he carried himself with an innate arrogance, as if the entire realm belonged to him simply because he graced it with his presence.
For his name day, Aerion was attired in a manner perfectly befitting a Targaryen prince. He wore a finely tailored doublet of deep crimson, its rich hue striking beneath the flickering candlelight, with intricate black and silver details woven throughout the fabric. The craftsmanship was undeniably expensive yet restrained; every detail seemed chosen to emphasize his formidable status rather than mere vanity. A dark cloak draped elegantly over his shoulders, fastened with a silver dragon clasp - a quiet reminder of the legacy he carried and the greatness he firmly believed the world owed him.
He looked every inch the prince he wished the world to see: proud, untouchable, and undeniably Targaryen.
Realizing you had been staring, you quickly turned your gaze back toward the darkness of the gardens. A sudden urge to flee back into the ballroom seized you.
But as you stepped toward the threshold, a smooth voice stopped you.
"You're leaving? I have only just arrived."
The prince's tone carried a clear note of amusement. Even without looking at him, you could tell he was smiling, as though your discomfort was nothing more than a game created solely for his entertainment.
Turning slowly to face him, you took care to maintain a guarded distance. "My apologies, my prince. My husband must be waiting for me; I was merely stealing a brief moment of the night air," you responded with careful politeness. "If you will excuse me." You turned on your heel once more, desperately eager to escape the interaction.
"You are not excused." His voice cut cleanly through the quiet night air. "Come back here."
The command was delivered calmly, yet an unyielding authority hummed beneath his wordsp - spoken with the effortless certainty of a man who took your absolute compliance for granted.
You took a steadying breath, bracing yourself, before turning around and retracing your steps to where you had just stood. "I... I truly must rejoin my husband, Your Grace." The excuse rang hollow, your voice trembling slightly as if even you couldn't believe the words.
Aerion let out a sharp, mocking laugh. He remained casual, leaning against the stone railing with his body angled toward you - a deliberate posture that ensured you remained firmly within his line of sight. His intense gaze tracked your every movement.
"You mean him?" he asked, tilting his head toward the brightly lit ballroom, though his eyes never left your face.
Following his gesture, your eyes found your husband.
He was clearly enjoying himself in your absence, currently cornering the young daughter of a lesser lord, who looked entirely tormented by his boorish attention. A hot flush of shame washed over you, and you quickly averted your eyes, staring back down at the dark gardens.
"It seems he has little need for your company," Aerion remarked, a faint trace of dark amusement lacing his words. He clearly found your obvious mortification more entertaining than surprising. "What is a lady like you doing tethered to a man like him?" He asked the question casually, as if he already knew the unpleasant truth of the answer and merely wanted to hear you confess it.
"It was an arrangement, my prince. Settled by my family when I was young," you replied quietly.
A low laugh escaped his lips at your response. "Of course. Tell me, have you given birth yet?"
He delivered the question casually, as though it were the most mundane inquiry in the world - and in Westeros, perhaps it was. Yet, it caught you entirely off guard. Your head snapped toward him, your lips parting in profound surprise.
At your silence, he pressed further. "Do not stand there gaping like a landed fish. Answer me."
There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but beneath it lay the unmistakable impression that he was enjoying your discomfort far more than he should have. As though he wanted to see how far he could push you, forcing you to cower beneath his piercing gaze.
Desperately trying to regain your composure, you stammered, "I- no... no, Your Grace, I have not." You swiftly lowered your gaze, avoiding his eyes out of sheer embarrassment.
"Is it because you are unable, or because he has not tried hard enough?" He continued questioning you, clearly taking pleasure now that he had exposed a raw nerve.
"I... I do not think this is an appropriate conversation, Your Grace."
"You dare defy your prince?" Aerionβs retort was instantaneous. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a chilling, authoritative tone. His eyes darkened, boring into you without so much as a single blink.
"I- that is not what I intended, Your Grace. My humblest apologies if I have offended you," you pleaded softly, your voice small. "I only meant... I am not comfortable with this topic."
You averted your gaze to the vast, ink-black sky, mindlessly counting the stars scattered across the heavens in a desperate attempt to ignore the embarrasment coursing through your veins.
A heavy silence fell between you. His eyes slowly scanned your features, though there was no admiration in his look. It was entirely calculating, assessing you as if deliberating whether you were even worth his valuable attention.
"Have you and your lord husband presented me with a name-day gift?" he inquired suddenly.
At the sudden shift in topic, you looked back at him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. "I- " You cut yourself off, terrified of causing further offense, and chose instead to let your silence serve as your confession.
The dark amusement instantly rushed back into his violet eyes. "Oh? You do know it is customary for guests to bear gifts, do you not? As a prince of the realm, I must confess I find such an omission quite... disappointing."
He offered a look of feigned offense, though the underlying mockery in his voice was impossible to miss.
You quickly lowered your gaze once more, desperate to avoid provoking him further, a bead of sweat tracing a cold path down your temple as the gravity of the situation pressed in. You had heard the whispers that followed Prince Aerion wherever he went - tales of his cruelty, of how he had severed a man's hand for spilling wine upon his doublet, and how he delighted in tormenting servants until they abandoned his service altogether.
What would he do to you? A mere lady from a minor, unremarkable house.
"But... I know a way you can repay me."
The words shattered your train of thought. His voice was much closer now, little more than a murmur beside your ear. You hadn't realized how he had closed the distance until his breath, laced with the rich scent of wine, brushed against your cheek while his gaze held yours captive.
He had moved close enough that you could feel his presence without daring to meet his eyes.
And though his expression remained composed, there was a glimmer of cruel amusement dancing within his violet gaze.
Heat rushed through your body, your lips parting in stunned disbelief at the shamelessness of his suggestion.
"I- Your Grace- I am married," you stammered in a hushed whisper, glancing around anxiously around the balcony, terrified anyone had overheared.
The utter indecency of it suffocated you. Should even a single soul catch wind of such a conversation, your honor would be forever ruined; you could already hear the venomous whispers of the court ladies.
He merely shrugged his shoulders at that. "And?" The single word was delivered with effortless indifference, arching a dismissive eyebrow as though you were the one speaking nonsense.
"And? I- I am older than you, my prince. Much older. And I am married," you pressed, your eyes wide with disbelief at his audacity. "I am a lady. I- I cannot..." The words died in your throat, leaving you utterly speechless.
"From what I have seen tonight, your lord husband appears far more interested in other women than in you," he remarked, unable to suppress the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I did not ask whether you could."
The finality of his words forced you to take a staggered step backward. He wasn't seeking permission. He knew perfectly well that you possessed neither the rank nor the authority to refuse him, yet he was intentionally allowing you to resist, cruelly toying with you like a cat with its prey, as though the cat was amusing itself before finally catching the mouse.
And perhaps, as much as you fought to deny it, a dark part of you that was delighted beneath his attention. You liked the intoxicating thrill of being desired. You liked that he didn't beg for permission - that he simply commanded space, that he just took.
And maybe there was more to that, maybe it was not because of the indecency of his proposal, nor because of the man himself, but because, for the first time in years, someone looked at you as though you existed.
As though you were more than a forgotten wife left to warm a seat beside a drunken husband.
The realization horrified you.
Your reason quickly smothered the thought before it could take root. "Happy name-day, my prince. If you will excuse me."
Gathering what remained of your dignity, you turned and walked away as swiftly as decorum allowed. You dared not look back, some instinct warned you that if you met his eyes again, your resolve might falter.
As you reclaimed your seat at the feast, you played the interaction over and over again, and a feeling of realization washed over you; he had let you walk away.
He could have called you back a second time.
He could have ordered you to remain, but he didn't. Instead, he had chosen not to.
He wanted you to understand perfectly that this was merely a game -and he alone dictated when it began, and when it would end.
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Days had passed since the feast, yet you had done nothing but replay that intoxicating encounter in your mind, even venturing to imagine what might have transpired had you lingered - had you surrendered to his proposition.
Yet, the fantasy swiftly dissolved against the cold reality of your situation. Prince Aerion had likely sought nothing more than a passing amusement to relieve the tedium of that pretentious gala. Nothing more. You scolded yourself, a fool for harboring any delusions that could say otherwise.
And so, the lingering glamour of the celebration slowly withered, making way for the mundane reality of your daily existence.
Your husband had departed on yet another of his frequent excursions - for "business," or so he claimed. In his absence, you made a rare, almost defiant choice to venture beyond the suffocating walls of your home while he was away.
A three-day festival was underway at Raventree Hall, boasting grand tournaments, theatrical performances, and a vibrant marketplace where merchants from every corner of Westeros gathered to profit from the massive crowds. It was your first time attending such an event, and you remained uncertain whether your presence there was a blessing or a mistake.
By what you gathered, the festivities were set to commence at first light, with the inaugural jousts drawing notable knights from across the realm. You had only ever heard tales of these tilts - described by others as breathtaking displays of valor - and a quiet thrill pricked at your chest at the prospect of witnessing them firsthand.
Arriving early allowed you to secure a prestigious position right against the front barriers. They stretched across the broad field, enclosed by sturdy timber railings draped with the colorful banners of the great houses.
Highborn lords and ladies occupied the raised galleries while the smallfolk crowded shoulder to shoulder behind ropes and fences, eagerly awaiting the first thunder of hooves, and beyond the lists, a sea of brightly painted pavilions billowed gently in the morning breeze as squires hurried between them, tightening girths, fastening armor, and placing freshly polished lances into their knights' waiting hands.
The herald stepped into the center of the lists, his booming voice carrying across the grounds as he announced the opening tilt.
"Ser Baldwin of House Ironwood... against Prince Aerion of House Targaryen!"
The moment the name left the herald's lips, the blood drained from your face.
It was impossible. Fate could not be so agonizingly cruel.
The opposing knight entered from opposite ends of the lists amidst a roar of cheers as the banners of his respective house waved.
Suddenly, the nature of the crowd's clamor shifted. It began as a subtle ripple traveling through the sea of spectators, but it rapidly swelled into a collective, eager murmur. As hundreds of heads turned toward the far end of the field.
Unable to resist, you followed their gaze as your breath got caught in your throat.
Prince Aerion emerged from beneath a crimson canopy, mounted upon a massive, midnight-black destrier. His posture was as unyielding as a spear, and even clad in full plate, his bearing exuded an unmistakable, predatory arrogance.
The morning sun glinted sharply off the dark steel of his armor, illuminating the three-headed dragon emblazoned upon his shield in brilliant crimson and black. A cloak of Targaryen colors rippled in the breeze behind him. Though his features were partially obscured beneath his helm, there was no mistaking him.
With effortless grace, the prince guided his mount toward his starting position, barely bothering to glance at the thousands gathered to watch.
You commanded yourself to look away, to dissolve into the anonymity of the crowd. Yet your eyes utterly betrayed you.
As if instinctively sensing the weight of your gaze, Aerion turned his head. Across the vast expanse of the lists, his eyes locked onto yours with unwavering accuracy.
Your heart struck against your ribs. For a fraction of a second, the thunderous roar of the crowd dissolved into absolute silence. He did not smile. Instead, he pinned you with an unnerving, absolute certainty - a look that silently declared he had known you were there from the very beginning, and that no crowd could ever hide you from him.
The spell shattered as a trumpet blast pierced the air. The herald's voice rang out above the din as, in one fluid motion, both riders lowered their lances in perfect unison. Their destriers surged forward, hooves thundering violently against the packed earth as the distance between the two competitors rapidly vanished.
Then- a deafening crack of splintering ash reverberated across the field.
Aerion's lance burst apart against Ser Baldwin's shield in a shower of splintered wood. The force of the impact hurled the knight from his saddle, his body twisting violently through the air before crashing onto the dirt in a thunderous clamor of steel. His riderless horse galloped onward for several frantic strides until a pair of squires rushed forward to seize its reins.
A collective, deafening roar erupted from the spectators.
Aerion reined in his horse with practiced precision, wheeling the great beast around in a fluid arc. Unhurried, he discarded the shattered haft of his lance, letting the splintered wood drop carelessly into the dirt.
There was no triumphant salute, no courteous acknowledgment of the adoring crowd. He merely looked down at his opponent struggling to rise, his expression a mask of icy indifference, as though the outcome had been known from the start.
Aerion observed his now defeated opponent who was on the floor for a mere heartbeat before lifting his eyes. Once more, his gaze cut through the sea of faces to find yours. This time, it was undeniable; there was no room for coincidence.
There was no surprise in his eyes.
Only recognition.
The corner of his mouth tilted into a faint, knowing smile - one that silently asked if you had ever expected anything less of him. Then, as if dismissing you, as if it didn't happen at all, he wheeled his horse toward the royal pavilion while the herald's voice boomed over the crowd, proclaiming him the victor of the tilt.
Only then did you realize how tightly your fingers had been gripping the wooden railing of the lists, your knuckles pale against the rough timber, as though it alone could steady the frantic beating of your heart.
Though the jousts continued, your attention no longer belonged to the knights charging across the field. Your thoughts remained hopelessly ensnared by the encounter.
He had remembered you.
He had found you.
Among thousands of faces, he had looked at no one else.
Only you.
The realization lingered like a fever.
And no matter how fiercely you tried to suppress it, another thought crept quietly into your mind.
You wanted more.
You wanted him to look at you again.
To desire you.
To claim your attention as effortlessly as he seemed to claim everything else in the world.
The thought haunted you for the remainder of the festival.
Even after the final tilt had ended and the tourney gave way to the evening's festivities, it refused to loosen its grip upon your mind.
Lanterns illuminated the sprawling encampment beyond the lists, their warm glow dancing across rows of colorful pavilions and merchant stalls. Music drifted through the cool evening air, mingling with the peals of laughter, the clinking of overflowing cups, and the lively chatter of nobles and smallfolk alike.
You wandered aimlessly among the tents, weaving through the swelling crowds with no destination in mind.
Or so you tried to tell yourself.
Deep down, you knew the truth.
You were not there for the music.
Nor for the performers who drew delighted applause wherever they went.
Nor even for the bustling market that had transformed the fields of Raventree Hall into a sea of color and voices.
You were looking for him.
Somewhere among the countless tents, beneath one of the brightly lit pavilions, or perhaps lingering beside a wine cask with a goblet in hand.
And whether you wished to admit it or not, you hoped he would find you before you found him.
You wanted his eyes to settle upon you once more.
You wanted to know whether that look across the lists had truly meant something or whether you had imagined it all.
For reasons you could not fully understand, your feet had carried you behind one of the pavilions, hidden beneath the veil of its shadow.
Perhaps you were waiting.
As you always had.
The minutes slipped by in silence, and with each passing moment, your fragile hope began to fade. Perhaps you had imagined it all, just as you so often imagined things that could never truly belong to you.
Why would he look at you?
He was a prince.
Young. Handsome. Strong.
Even his cruelty - something your heart seemed determined to overlook - could not diminish the privilege of his birth. He could have anyone he desired.
You could not.
"Waiting for someone?"
Your entire body went rigid.
Every hair upon your arms stood on end, as though your very body had recognized him before your mind could. And you fought to not turn around.
Instead, you stared into the darkness ahead, your fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your skirts.
"No..."
The word scarcely escaped your lips, little more than a whisper. Your throat felt impossibly tight, refusing to give voice to the countless thoughts clamoring within your mind.
Because there was so much you wanted to say.
That you were tired of waiting.
That you wanted him.
That, just for one night, you wished to forget duty, propriety, and every expectation that had governed your life.
That for the first time, you wanted to allow yourself to want.
The measured sound of his footsteps echoed behind you. Slow. Unhurried. Certain.
Each one drew nearer until they stopped only when he deemed the distance between you satisfactory.
A bead of sweat slipped down your temple. You heard the faint rustle of fabric as he lifted a hand. You felt his fingers brushed lightly through your hair, gathering the loose strands before easing them over one shoulder. Baring the skin of your neck to the cool night air, but most importantly, exposed for him.
"Where is your lord husband?"
His voice was scarcely more than a whisper, the words ghosting over your skin as his lips brushed lightly against the curve of your neck. It was not a kiss. Merely the faintest graze, as though he were acquainting himself with every contour, committing it to memory with the same deliberate care one might trace the pages of a well-loved book.
He was testing you.
Making you wait.
He wanted you to be the one to say it. To surrender first. To break you.
"H-He is away," you managed at last, your voice emerging weak and uneven.
Before you could stop yourself, your body betrayed you. You leaned ever so slightly into his touch, baring a little more of your neck without conscious thought.
"Oh?" The single syllable was laced with quiet amusement.
"And you decided to..." His hand drifted to your waist, resting there with infuriating restraint. He did not seize you, nor pull you closer. He merely allowed you to feel the warmth of his palm through the fabric of your gown. "...come to the festival."
A brief silence lingered between the two of you before he continued.
"Searching for what?"
The question was delivered slowly.
Patient.
As though he already knew the answer and was simply waiting for you to give it to him.
"I... I just..."Your thoughts dissolved the moment he spoke.
The words refused to come.
You could not think.
You could barely breathe.
All you could do was feel him - his nearness, the warmth radiating from him, the quiet confidence with which he occupied every inch of the space around you until it seemed there was room for nothing else.
And he waited.
As though the two of you had all the time in the world.
In that moment, it certainly felt as if you did.
And something inside you broke.
"I wanted to find you." Your voice was scarcely above a whisper, soft and hesitant, like the confession of a sin you had not yet committed.
"You did."
His words carried the quiet certainty of a man who had never doubted the outcome.
"You found me."
With a single, deliberate touch, he turned you toward him.
There was no force behind the gesture, only quiet assurance, as though he knew you would not resist.
Now you stood face to face.
So close that you could see your own reflection mirrored in his violet eyes, their irises almost entirely swallowed by darkened pupils. The tips of your noses brushed together, and your lips parted instinctively, as though searching for a breath that refused to come.
"What are you going to do now that you have?" His voice was little more than a murmur between you.
As he spoke, he lifted his free hand, the pads of his fingers gliding lightly along your cheek with infuriating slowness.
Your eyelids fluttered shut for the briefest instant at his touch.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Every touch was measured.
Every pause deliberate.
Like a siren whose song lured sailors willingly toward the rocks, he drew you in without ever asking you to follow.
"What is it that you want?"
The question settled between you like a secret. The very question you had spent years refusing to ask yourself, and he knew that.
His gaze never left yours.
Neither did yours leave his.
Then, ever so slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours.
Not a kiss.
Not yet.
Only the faintest ghost of contact, enough to leave you acutely aware of how little distance remained between you.
"I want you." The words left your lips before you had the chance to stop them.
But perhaps you did not truly want him.
Perhaps you simply wanted someone - anyone - to want you.
You had been starved of affection and tenderness for so long that anyone who offered you even the smallest measure of either could have brought you to your knees.
And you were certain he knew that too.
He could see it in your eyes, in the way your breath hitched whenever he drew close, in the subtle tremor that coursed through your body beneath the slightest brush of his touch.
So he gave you exactly what you craved.
His lips claimed yours in what began as an almost gentle kiss, soft enough to lull you into a false sense of security. It lasted only a heartbeat before it deepened into something bruising, demanding. His hands rose to cradle your face, drawing you firmly against him until not the slightest space remained between your bodies, as though he intended to merge the two of you into one.
He wasted little time deepening the kiss. His teeth caught your lower lip with enough force to draw a sharp sting, and you were certain you tasted the faint trace of blood.
The sudden pain forced a quiet gasp from your lips, and he took advantage of it immediately.
As with everything else, he did not ask.
He never sought permission.
He simply took.
You surrendered to the kiss, allowing him to dictate its pace as your thoughts gradually dissolved into a haze.
His hands wandered lower, deft fingers working at the laces of your gown while his mouth abandoned yours, trailing slowly along your jaw before descending to your neck, leaving a trail of lingering wet kisses in its wake.
The sensations became almost overwhelming.
You felt him everywhere.
The warmth of his touch, the weight of his body, the sound of his breathing - it all blurred together until the world beyond the tent seemed to vanish entirely.
You barely noticed when your gown slipped from your shoulders, pooling forgotten somewhere upon the grass.
Nor did you realize how thoroughly you had lost yourself in the moment.
Your knees weakened beneath you.
Instinctively, your hands found his hair, your fingers threading through the short silver strands as you sought something -anything- to steady yourself.
The slight pull earned a low sound from him, one that seemed to vibrate deep within his chest.
His hand drifted lower, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake, as it slid under the cotton material of your innerwear.
The unfamiliar sensation drew a sharp breath from your lips, your body tensing instinctively as your hand caught his wrist.
"Relax."
The word was spoken quietly, yet it carried the unmistakable weight of a command rather than reassurance.
To your own surprise - or perhaps not - , your body obeyed before your mind could make out the decision.
Your grip slowly loosened, though your hand lingered where it was, as if uncertain whether to stop him or draw him closer.
Hi flicked your clit in an almost playful way before his hand traveled lower, collecting the wetness of your arousal and slipping one finger into your quivering hole.
You tilted your head back, a shaky breath escaping your parted lips as the unfamiliar sensations washed over you.
"Has your lord husband ever made you feel like this?" he murmured, his voice low against your ear as he insterted another finger, adding to the build up of your pleasure.
You tried to answer. You truly did.
But every coherent thought had deserted you, leaving behind nothing more than uneven breaths and half-formed sounds.
"Answer me." This time, his voice was firmer, brooking no delay whilst his teeth grazed your jugular vein as a warning, probably being able to hear the way your heart was pounding.
You longed to respond, yet no words would come.
In the end, all you could manage was the smallest of nods, hoping it would suffice.
And it seemed it did, because he didn't press on, instead just choosing to increase the pace of his fingers as the wet sound of them going in and out echoed through the night air.
You could feel yourself reaching your peak, your body tensing as you cummed on his fingers.
As soon as he felt your hole fluttering around his fingers, he removed them, watching as your release dripped out of it, creating a wet patch on your underwear.
A quiet whine escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness.
Your hands instinctively clutched the fabric of his tunic, gripping it tightly as though afraid he might pull away entirely.
He let out a chuckle at the sound, savouring just how pathetic it had been, like the one of a wounded animal.
That disappointment was quickly replaced by anticipation as his hands moved to loosen his trousers, drawing them down just enough for his member to get out. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but look down, feel slightly proud as you saw the small drip of precum on his tip.
He was as aroused as you. He desired you too.
He pushed your garments aside, exposing your pussy to the cool air as his other hand guided his cock toward your entrance,stopping just short of closing the distance, leaving only the slightest contact between you.
Unable to bear it, you instinctively rolled your hips forward, desperate to erase the remaining space between you.But he quickly stopped you, his hands settled firmly upon your hips, holding you in place with effortless strength.
"Shhh...patience." His voice was low, almost soothing, though the grip of his hands suggested otherwise. You were certain they would leave bruises by morning.
"Tell me. I want you to say it. What do you want?" He repeated the question as he had done before, his darkened gaze looking into your eyes, as if searching.
"Please..." you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please... I want you. I want this... please."
Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you tried once more to move against him, seeking even the smallest measure of relief.
He did not allow it.
"I asked you a simple question." His expression remained infuriatingly composed."That is not the answer I am looking for."
A shaky breath escaped you.
"Please..." The word was scarcely audible.
"Please... I want you."
Your voice trembled.
"I want you to fuck me." The rest of the sentence caught in your throat before you forced yourself to finish it. "Please, Aerion... I... I need you."
Your pleading had seemed to amused him, his lips turning up in what seemed the ghost of a smile before pushing in with a single thrust.
The sudden intrusion drew a sharp gasp from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as your head fell back.
You felt so...full.
He didn't give you time to breath, instantly setting a brutal pace.
"This is what you wanted, huh? For me to fill your tiny married cunt?" he murmured, his voice low against your ear. "To let the blood of the dragon give you heirs? Is that it?" You couldn't answer. You weren't even sure you could still hear him. Your thoughts had dissolved into nothing but fragments.
Your husband no longer mattered.
Your family no longer mattered.
Nothing beyond this moment seemed real.
You just needed him.
You don't remember how many times you came. Or he did. You just remembered the sensations; the warmth of his hands against your skin, the sound of his voice in your ear, and the promises he wove between ragged breaths.
That you were his.
That he would free you from your marriage.
That one day you would be his queen.
Perhaps they were empty promises. Deep down, you knew they almost certainly were.
Yet, in that moment, you wanted desperately to believe them.
To believe him.
Just for tonight, you told yourself.
Just for tonight.
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This is so ass. But at least it's finished.