I’m Dizzy…

finally back from the dead with a little somethin' for loser!ellie, i hope you enjoy! >.< <3

couldn't fight to save your life (but you look so cool) ❀˖꩜˚࿔ - e.w

loser!ellie x popular!reader | 3.2k words

a/n: guess who rewatched bottoms for the billionth time (me. it was me.) :p loser!ellie won't leave my mind and neither will crush by ethel cain so here's somethin' random i came up with, enjoy!

cw: cursing, bullying, a little violence, mentions of blood, two idiots that are obviously infatuated with each other, mentions of reader wanting to punch ellie for being too cute cuz they’re strange like that

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

you're an angel, she's sure of it.

ellie watches with glassy eyes, practically in a trance, as you absentmindedly play with your hair. she drinks in the way your perfectly curated outfit adorns your body; you always look flawless to her. You were laughing at something your friend had said, ellie's ears straining to hear the saccharine sound over the chatter buzzing. she just heard it, and god, what she would do to have a recording of it to listen to over and over again.

the two of you weren't friends by any means, but she knew you.

most of ellie's time was spent staring at you during class or when you passed her in the hallway. her eyes would shy away every time they met yours, the intensity of your gaze leaving her a flustered mess within seconds. 

when she wasn't looking at you, her head was buried into her journal, pencil dragging fervently across the pages. her entries always had your name embedded somewhere within their sentences. it was like you were all she could think about. when she would draw, the lines and curves always morphed into you, capturing a moment of you daydreaming in class or whatever other snapshot her mind had taken of you that wouldn't stop plaguing her.

she'd listen to your conversations when she was close enough to hear - not to be a creep or anything! but how else was she supposed to learn more about you?

sure, the obvious answer would be to talk to you, but she was a nervous wreck from just seeing you. you'd only had a few brief interactions before, and she swears she almost fainted when you remembered her name when you asked her for a pen once.

while she believed the popularity contest that was high school to be ridiculous, her very low place in the school's hierarchy was a definite set-up for failure, she was certain. ellie kept to herself, mostly, aside from her few friends, but that didn't stop her from becoming the target of relentless bullying from some of the other students, the ones at the top of the food chain.

you were well-liked amongst your peers, but your popularity never merged you with those people. you were known for your sunny disposition, whereas they tormented their way to the top.

you'd seen it happen a couple of times, the sound of their jeering always catching your attention, especially when you heard them say ellie's name in that disgusting tone that made your heart ache for her. in fact, it's what snapped you out of your current conversation as an irritated, "what the fuck, williams?" sounds throughout the hallway.

in her lovestruck daze, ellie hadn't been looking where she was walking, which conveniently caused her to bump into one of them - a girl you didn't care much for, quinn was it? all you knew for sure was that she was trouble.

ellie winced and scrunched her face at the sound of her voice, internally cursing at herself because now she had to deal with her. she opened her eyes to see that everyone was looking, including you.

"shit, sorry. wasn't looking where i was going, won't happen again," ellie's tone is curt, trying to move past her and continue with her day before things got worse.

but of course, she wouldn't get let off the hook that easily; that was just her luck.

"where do you think you're going?" she probes, moving to block ellie's path. ellie has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes in her face, not wanting to escalate things if she could help it. how naive of her to think that nothing could ever be easy for her.

"c'mon, dude. i apologised. can we move on and-"

suddenly, it feels like the wind was knocked from ellie's lungs, and she's… falling?

a little stunned, she looks up from her newfound place on the floor after quinn has shoved her to the ground. all because of an accident that could have been easily brushed off and forgotten about. such a dumb fucking reason, and yet it has ellie seething.

"you should watch where you're going, williams. always lurking where nobody wants you to be." quinn spits, taunting ellie to get a rise out of her. 

it was likely that ellie's indifferent reactions to quinn's bullying irritated her, unable to fathom why ellie wouldn't buckle and submit like every other one of her unfortunate victims.

while the teasing and mean remarks were an unfortunate constant in her life, this never mellowed ellie. she was always quick-witted, her slight temper always having her ready to argue back and stand up for herself, and this time was no different.

ellie rises from the ground and delivers an equally hard shove, an irate, "what the fuck is your problem?" leaving her chapped lips. being the drama-obsessed hive mind that high schoolers were, it didn't take long for people to start crowding around the two once things intensified.

you had been watching the whole thing from afar before a wall of people began forming, not realising it'd evolve into this. you heard a pained groan rip from ellie's throat after what you presumed was the first punch being thrown. now you are only able to listen to the commotion but not see the situation, making your anxiety skyrocket. 

you liked to keep an attentive eye on ellie from a distance despite your paths rarely crossing, feeling some strange obligation to watch over her. you knew quinn and her posse of assholes always gave ellie a hard time, but she seemed to handle herself just fine, sometimes hearing one of her clever comebacks that made you giggle.

while the brawl entertained everyone else, you grew increasingly agitated. you were never one for drama and kept a relatively peaceful circle of friends, but the idea of just standing and doing nothing felt like a personal failure.

so, before you knew it, you were excusing yourself from your friends and pushing your way through the crowd to get to ellie.

once you breached the crowd, you found yourself in the eye of the storm, your eyes wide. after a while of their struggle against each other, quinn was now situated on top of ellie as she delivered a particularly hard punch to ellie's cheek. the wounded groan she let out was what urged you out of your frozen shock, rushing towards the tangle of violent limbs, grabbing quinn's shoulder and pulling her off of ellie with a hard tug.

"get the hell away from her!" you yell, trying hard to ignore the disappointed groans of the audience as you interrupt their entertainment. "assholes." you thought to yourself. 

wiping the blood from her nose, the sight of the trickling crimson more satisfying to you than it should be, quinn looks at you confused, clearly not expecting you of all people to come to ellie's rescue.

"the fuck are you doing?" she sneers, looking between you and ellie, who is still on the floor, propping herself up on her elbows with the nastiest glare you'd ever seen on her face. "don't tell me you actually give a shit about this loser-"

"back off, don't touch her," you snarled, pushing past her to kneel beside ellie on the ground.

you had this untouchable air about you, something that was a little lost on you but not to quinn. she knew you had people to back you up, her targets usually being the loner outcast types, being the coward she is. the same ruthlessness ellie received was not given to you, an irritated scoff being all you heard from quinn. she was the least of your worries right now.

"are you okay?" you ask, a little breathless from the adrenaline of putting yourself in the middle of a fight in front of an audience. your brows furrowed at how quickly deep purples and blues had already started blooming around ellie's eye and her freckled cheek. 

ellie looked at you blankly, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, and she tried desperately to find any words to say to you. how was she supposed to think straight? the rush from the fight and now having her crush come to her aid rendered her speechless. her lack of answer only worried you more, pinning her silence on being stunned from the fight still.

"ellie, i need you to answer-"

you were cut off by the sound of the principal pushing his way through the mass, his stern voice demanding that the two battered girls follow him to his office.

you watch doe-eyed and nervous as ellie pushes herself off the floor with a wince, looking at you with eyes that have so much to say yet a mouth that cannot quite verbalise it. but she couldn't stay, so without a word, she reluctantly trudged behind the principal with her head hanging low, utterly fed up, and man, that one punch hurt.

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

you peered around the corner to the row of chairs lined up outside the principal's office, eyes fixated on ellie's slumped figure occupying one of them. you had been watching for at least a minute or two now despite there being the opportunity to approach her like any other normal person. but this was comfortable for you, familiar. if ellie believed she was the only person with a staring problem, and she did, then she was painfully wrong.

it felt routine for you to watch her like this from afar, a look in your eyes brimming with so much more than just innocent curiosity.

it was like you could sense her presence in a room, your gaze always finding her so easily amongst the hoard of other students. your eyes would rake up and down as you shamelessly drank her in, that camo jacket of hers that she wore like a safety blanket hanging loosely from her frame. she wore it infuriatingly well, paired with her unbothered demeanour that looked oh so good on her. a witty remark was always ready on the tip of her tongue when one of her tormentors dared to speak to her, her scarred brow furrowing into a scowl that made your stomach flutter.

you knew what cuteness aggression was, but that surely couldn't be what you felt now. but it made you mad how badly ellie affected you even from a distance, what was once just a silly hallway crush twisting into a near-violent obsession. you spied her fresh bruises, almost filling you with a little satisfaction. serves her right, your voice whispers quietly inside your head, as if you were scared someone could hear you. you almost wished you had been the one to give her the bruises only so you could plant two gentle kisses over the skin to soothe the sting afterwards. the deep plum colour blooming across her skin still somehow made her look pretty, and you had to take a moment to ask yourself if that was a fucked up thing to think. probably. 

suddenly becoming aware of how much of a creep you must look, lingering but not daring to approach, you decided to finally go check on her. it wouldn't feel right for you not to ensure she was okay.

ellie wonders how hard she was punched when she looks up to see you, a concerned and bashful smile on your face.

"hey, ellie. i just wanted to check on you after what happened with… y'know." 

ellie spends a moment in silence as she processes what's happening. you're fidgeting with your hands, rocking back and forth on your heels like you don't know what to do with yourself. she could have scoffed in bewilderment, as if you had any right to look so nervous standing in front of her, effortlessly beautiful and so sweet.

"ellie?" you repeat her name again, softer this time. ellie almost wants to stay silent just to hear you repeat it. but she needs to respond, fuck think, think, think-

"o-oh, hey. i uh- yeah, i'm okay. nothing i can't handle," ellie finally manages to get out. you nod in acknowledgement, tearing your eyes away for just a moment to compose yourself.

"do you mind if i sit?" you gesture to the empty chair beside her, which has her perking up almost immediately. ellie nods, a simple "sure," leaving her lips in a tone that sounded far more curt than nonchalant like she intended. really, she was just trying to focus on not bursting at the seams. you were so close to her, and now she had to keep her cool.

"thanks for stepping in earlier and pulling her off of me. you didn't have to do that."

"i wasn't just gonna stand there and watch it happen," you say it like that wasn't what anyone else would have done, what they did do. all more than happy to watch her get her ass beat just to spice up what otherwise would have been another boring school day.

"i'd say i held my own somewhat well," ellie quips, her tone a little lighter than before. you giggle softly, deciding not to remind her that she had been floored by the time you got to her. she had definitely lost the fight, and in her defence, that girl was notoriously scrappy, but fortunately for you, she made losing look so good. holding herself up on her elbows, the meanest look on her dishevelled face as she stared up at the girl with an unwavering glare.

"and what did the principal have to say about that?" you press for details, head tilting curiously. you looked like a puppy, sitting all cute and pretty next to her. ellie swore you were trying to kill her; such a simple movement made her heart rate spike. 

"got a firm slap on the wrist and the usual 'you're better than this' speech." you hum in acknowledgement, a breath of a laugh exhaling through your nose.

"well, for what it's worth, I think you gave her what she deserved." your statement caught her off guard, and she was not expecting you to condone any of what went down earlier.

"oh, you think?"

"oh definitely. the only time i see her is when she's making some poor person's life hell. i'm glad to see her get a taste of her own medicine."

ellie couldn't argue with that, shrugging in agreement as she tried to keep the pride bubbling up in her chest at bay.

"i am a little surprised, though. i wasn't expecting you to entertain a fight with her." this makes ellie raise her eyebrow inquisitively. did she not look tough enough to be in a fight or something? she knew she was nerdy, but surely she didn't look utterly defenceless, right?

"how come?" she questions, leaning back more comfortably in her chair, legs settling into her usual manspread that had you reeling just from seeing it from a distance, never mind being right next to her. your eyes darted around the hallway, desperately trying to focus on the conversation.

"well, y'know, i see you around, and you're usually so…" you trail off as you wave your hands in soft, fluid motions, whimsical and a little silly as you try to explain the softer side of her you had always noticed in what looked like some strange interpretive dance. 

"but back there, you were all like-" you're swinging your arms a little more frantically now, a poor recreation of some generic karate moves. you would feel like a total idiot and you very much do if it wasn't for the cheesy smile spreading across ellie's face at the sight of you.

"yeah?" she feels like she's getting lightheaded from how giddy she feels.

"yeah." you parrot back sheepishly, twiddling your thumbs to ground yourself. so cute.  

all ellie seemed to be good for was being riled up by the other students, so hearing that you had acknowledged her enough to make up your own mind about her made her feel like she was short circuiting. she was quickly snapped out of her temporary high when she felt a sharp sting on the side of her face, her sappy smile irritating her bruises.

"shit, are you okay?" you ask worriedly as she tries to brush it off with a wave of her hand.

"yeah yeah, i'm fine; this could've been way worse. you don't need to worry." her thoughts didn't quite match up with her words, though, silently begging that you'd keep doting on her. she was basking in having your undivided attention.

"ellie, these bruises are pretty big, i'm allowed to worry after I watched you get your ass handed to you," you ramble, ignoring her dismissal. 

"hey! she didn't have that much of an upper hand against me-"

you don’t reply, your hand absentmindedly reaches out to cup her jaw, being careful not to press into where it hurts as you inspect her injuries.

"has anybody checked over you yet?"

she feels like she's on fire, palms sweaty as she silently lets you examine her. she barely managed to respond to your question with a simple "no." she swore she could feel everywhere your eyes landed on her face, and fuck, your hand is so warm. the mess of a girl was surprised that steam wasn't radiating from where your skin met. 

as you give her face a final once over, you catch that frazzled deer-in-headlights look in her eyes and realise what you were doing, immediately removing your hand. if ellie wasn't frozen in place, she would have chased your touch, already missing the feeling of you on her skin.

"s-sorry, i just- i didn't mean to touch you out of nowhere. i was checking for my own peace of mind and got carried away-"

"no!" ellie interrupts a little louder than she meant to. "i mean, it's totally fine," her voice is shaking, "thank you for caring. you don't even really know me, and you're doing all this for me, so thank you."

her abruptness halts your apologetic rambling. you look at her wide-eyed for a moment before letting a soft little smile tug up the corner of your lips. if only she knew just how well you'd come to know her from all of your stolen glances, committing her to memory like she would disappear.

"don't mention it."

silence falls over you, both fidgeting shyly as you struggle to find something else to say. but that was okay. the giddy smiles you were both biting back said everything they needed to.

"i should probably get back to class, i've been holding this hall pass hostage for a while so i could come to check on you." you huff out a little disappointed sigh, reluctant to leave now that you'd finally been able to talk to ellie after so long spent longingly glancing in her direction.

"oh right, sorry. don't let me keep you, like i said i'm fine, really." ellie felt herself deflate a little now that she knew you had to go. the word pathetic came to mind when she realised how silly she must have looked, sulking like a kicked dog.

"i'm glad you're okay, ellie. i'll um… i'll see you around, yeah?" you couldn't help the hopefulness seeping through your words, and ellie noticed. the slight lilt in your sweet voice, your awkward shifting as you stood up, ready to leave.

"yeah, i'll see you around." ellie smiled up at you, ignoring the sharp twinge where her bruises were. maybe she should get beat up more often if it meant getting your attention.

why would you hurt me like this

more tlou x arcane anyone? (im allergic to happiness)

bonus incoming caitvi as dina and ellie

good lord.

shower fog [warning, nudity]

anyways, don't forget your daily click to help palestine!!!! 🇵🇸

Forbidden Crown: ch. III

Summary: Kit and Airk visit Azarenth to celebrate your fifteenth birthday, but when your mother delivers some earth-shattering news, your relationships with the twins crumble. After an ‘experiment’ gone wrong, you realize some things about yourself that could destroy your life, as well as those of the people around you.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: angst, boy-kissing, girl-kissing, implied vomiting (not graphic), half-smut, heavy petting, second base, forced marriage, nightmare

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: it’s getting steamy up in here

The day you turned fifteen was a cause of celebration for all of Azarenth. Your parents held an elaborate banquet in your honor, complete with minstrels and jesters, and invited the entire kingdom to celebrate. All day long, you received birthday wishes and blessings from the townspeople, indulged in your favorite foods, and drowned in a seemingly endless sea of presents. Luxurious garments, precious jewelry, fine craftsmanship; you were gracious for every one, but none compared to the greatest gift of them all.

“Tomorrow morning, the twins from Tir Asleen will be riding in for a visit.” Your mother informed you later that evening, after all the party guests had gone home.

You froze in your tracks, the news leaving you momentarily speechless. “Really? They’re visiting here?”

“Well I’d prefer not to have Kit stay,” your mother scoffed. “But heaven forbid I take one without the other.”

Far too excited to acknowledge your mother’s snide remark, you rushed to wrap your arms around her, expressions of gratitude flying from your lips. She stiffened at your touch, only obliging with a reluctant pat on your back.

Just when you felt like you were on top of the world, everything came crashing down in a matter of seconds.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior while they’re here, please put in the extra effort to make Airk feel comfortable. In five years’ time, you will be his bride.”

You froze again, the last sentence hitting you like a sledgehammer to a stone wall. Slowly, you removed your arms from her torso, stepping back to meet her gaze. “Pardon?”

“Sorsha and I decided it was time to tell you both,” she explained calmly. “We’ve been arranging this marriage to unite our kingdoms since you were young.”

Confusion, anger, betrayal; a plethora of emotions swarmed you as you stood there, stunned. “You’re telling me this now?”

“Darling, you’re fifteen now, a woman. We didn’t want to scare you when you were children but it’s high time you start to think about the future of Azarenth.”

Realization hit you like a pound of bricks. “That’s why you always put so much emphasis on a relationship with Airk? You were preparing us for marriage?”

“Well I see no reason for such commotion! From what you’ve told me, you and Airk get along quite well. I’m sure you’ll make a fine couple.”

She dismissed you with a wave of her hand before retreating to her bedchamber for the night, leaving you standing there in a puddle of conflicting feelings. On one hand, Airk was pleasant company, and he could make a fine ruler one day. On the other hand, your heart didn’t long for him, and just the thought of you two being expected to produce heirs made you feel ill.

In five years, in five short years, you would be Princess Airk Tanthalos. You closed your eyes, testing out the name once on your lips before running outside and dropping to your knees, emptying your stomach's contents into the street.

That night was spent tossing and turning in bed, fighting off images of a marriage to Airk before they overpowered you, transforming into a nightmare as you slipped into slumber.

You were walking through the Tir Asleen gardens with Kit, picking bouquets of flowers and laughing at nothing but your own contagious joy. Just when you were almost done arranging your flowers, she seized your hand without warning, forcing you to drop your bouquet and pulling you away from the garden.

“Kit! Where are we going?” You chuckled, but never received an answer.

Instead, she pulled you into the doors of the castle and led you through every room. Each room seemed to stretch on forever, the exit nothing more than an optical illusion. With every new step, Kit moved faster until you were practically chasing after her, each breath coming in ragged gasps as your feet slapped against the cold stone floor.

Finally, Kit led you back outside, where you seemed to have spent so long in the castle that the sky was now a dark black with no moon in sight. She continued to pull you until you stood in front of the garden once again, where she slowed her pace before pausing at the entrance. This time, instead of the garden being filled with fragrant flowers and low-hanging trees, it was furnished to look like a wedding ceremony, with Airk standing at the end of the aisle. All of the guests turned in their chairs, staring at you with stone-like expressions.

You looked down and found that your everyday clothing had been replaced with an extravagant wedding gown. “Kit,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Why have you brought me here?”

Kit turned to look at you, leaving you horrified as her face morphed into that of your mother’s. Her demeanor remained still and frosty as she dropped your hand like a forgotten promise.

“The future is upon us, Princess Airk Tanthalos.”

You shot up in bed, gasping for breath as your heart raced. Pressing a hand to your chest, you inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to calm down. The window facing outside showed the sky still an impenetrable black, clear and streaked with twinkling stars. You groaned, flopping back onto your mattress as you reluctantly prepared for the remainder of a restless night.

You practically sleepwalked through the next morning, the dark circles under your eyes hanging like crescent moons in the night sky. After grunting a barely perceptible greeting to your parents, you took your seat at the breakfast table and started on the meal the chefs had prepared for you. Each bite tasted like gray mush. You chewed mechanically, feeling as if your emotions were so dulled that even your taste buds were affected.

Silence filled the breakfast table as everyone noticed you weren’t your usual chipper self. Even your father noticed something was off and attempted to speak before your mother shot him an icy glare, placing her hand over his as an unspoken warning.

Before you even had time to pass out onto your plate, the familiar clip-clop of a horse-drawn carriage sounded from outside, signaling the twins' arrival. You stood up, trailing behind your parents as you stepped outside to greet your guests.

A creamy white horse stood just outside the castle entrance, attached to a rugged coachman steering a wooden carriage. Airk was the first to step out, shaking out his chestnut curls and smoothing the fabric of his thin tunic. The morning sun reflected off his green eyes, making them look like two polished emeralds.

Although you weren’t attracted to him, you had to admit, he had grown into a handsome lad. You began to wonder if there was a chance that marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, that maybe you could make it work, and learn to live somewhat content.

But then Kit stepped out of the carriage, and the very thought of marrying her brother became distasteful again. She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes only accentuated her lack of color. Her clothing was loose, wrinkly, and her barely chin-length tresses were dyed black with an indigo plant.

To anyone else, she appeared as a tired mess, a pathetic excuse for a princess. But when you gazed upon her, all you saw was Kit. Your Kit. The girl you grew up with and simultaneously never saw, the one person who meant more to you than anyone else.

Your mother rushed to meet Airk, presenting a perfect curtsy and gushing over how handsome he’d gotten. To Kit, she offered nothing more than a brief nod and a stiff grin.

“Welcome to Azarenth, you two,” she greeted. “I trust you’ll feel right at home here.”

With that, she turned on her heel, marching back into the castle and leaving you to attend to your guests. You never really liked having your mother around; her chilly demeanor often irritating you to the point of submerging yourself into daydreams where you could run away, free from her parental confines. But now, as she walked away and you watched her figure grow smaller, you wanted nothing more than for her to return. Even if it was to make a snide comment, you would take anything to alleviate the tension that now floated between you and the twins.

Airk took a step towards you, clearing his throat and hiding his hands behind his back. “Happy birthday, Princess.”

You smiled in return, curtsying politely. The two of you stood there, silently staring at each other, the weight of what you both now knew settling between you.

“Yes, happy birthday, Princess.” Kit sneered, stomping over and offering an exaggerated curtsy.

Your smile faltered. “No need to be so formal.”

Kit scowled at you, her blue eyes, once bright oceans now beady cesspools filled with contempt. “Oh forgive me, your highness! I had no intention of offending her majesty, the future ruler of Tir Asleen!”

She scoffed, shaking her head and storming past you into the castle doors. Airk mumbled a quick apology on her behalf before following after her, leaving you outside, alone, caught in a whirlpool of heartache.

The rest of the day remained as tense as how it started. Kit had holed herself up in her designated guest room, so you were stuck with Airk. For the most part, you tried to avoid each other, save for occasionally crossing paths in the hallways and stuttering immediate apologies. When the kitchen maid rang the dinner bell, you reluctantly trudged to the dining room, dragging your feet all the way there to postpone interaction as much as possible.

Your mother eyed you critically as you were the last to take your seat at the table. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

Pursing your lips out of disdain, you glanced over at Airk. He met your gaze, making accidental eye contact for a brief second before looking down and pretending to be transfixed by his supper. Your eyes traveled across the table to a seat left empty, Kit’s noticeable absence leaving a pang in your chest.

Sounds of silverware scratching against ceramic dishes filled the room as the four of you ate in silence. You and Airk kept your heads down, refusing to look up from your plates while your parents exchanged glances from across the table. Once finished, you pushed your plate away and requested to be excused, leaving without waiting for a response.

Grabbing your shawl off a nearby hook, you walked briskly out of the castle. The cold December air pricked against your skin as you hugged your shawl closer to you. Azarenth typically had a warmer climate with very few opportunities for cold weather, but something about this night felt especially frosty, enough for a handful of snowflakes to lazily drift down from the night sky.

You retreated to a small courtyard away from the main thoroughfares, a secluded area complete with a center fountain you often used as a refuge. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you stared at your reflection in the water, your mirrored image looking just as tired and stressed as it had that morning. You groaned, splashing away your likeness before immediately pulling your hand back, shocked by the iciness of the water.

As you sat alone with your thoughts, the sound of footsteps approached. You turned your head to see Airk at the entrance, pausing as soon as you met his gaze. He looked sheepish, his hands hiding behind his back as he nervously shuffled his feet.

“Your father told me I might find you here,” he spoke softly, answering the question you never asked.

You didn’t respond, so he moved towards you, taking a seat beside you on the edge of the fountain. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring at your feet while you listened to the gentle roar of the water behind you.

“Your parents informed you of the arrangement, I imagine.” He said in a low voice, addressing the elephant in the room.

You sighed deeply, nodding your head in response. “I feel so betrayed.”

Airk raised his eyebrows.

“Not because you’d make a terrible spouse!” You quickly backtracked. “I just… I feel so…”

“Caught off guard?” Airk interrupted.

You nodded. His assumption was only half-true, but true nonetheless.

Airk puffed out his cheeks, taking a moment to choose his next words carefully. “Well, perhaps we could… test it out? See what it’s like?”

You eyed him with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”

“Married life,” he clarified. “Perhaps we could… try some of the things married people do? Just to see how it feels?”

Your eyes widened as you leaned back in shock. “I’m not doing that!” You crossed your arms over your chest and drew inward, suddenly feeling very exposed despite being fully dressed.

“No, no! I would never ask you to do that!” Airk sputtered, vigorously shaking his head.

You sighed in relief. Airk laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm his nerves.

“No, certainly not. I…” he cleared his throat. “…was truly suggesting we… try a kiss? Surely, married couples kiss. Perhaps we could just see how it feels?”

You glanced at his lips and contemplated his proposal. He had a point. “Yes.”

“Are you certain?” Airk’s eyes widened in surprise.

You nodded. “Well, we’ll be expected to kiss at our wedding anyway. May be convenient to remove the element of surprise.”

Airk positioned himself to face you. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“I haven’t either,” you lied, thinking back to the innocent kisses you shared with Kit as children. Despite her spicy personality, she had always tasted so sweet. You wondered if Airk would taste just as sweet.

Before you knew it, Airk had leaned in and connected his mouth to yours. His lips were wet, soaked with spit, and his coarse stubble scratched at your chin. He didn’t taste sweet; he barely tasted like anything at all. There was no buzzing in your ears, nor bursts of warmth in your chest, just two mouths collided in a dispassionate exchange.

When Airk pulled away, you felt like crying. He stared at you expectantly. “Was that alright?”

You stared back at him, trying to suppress the nauseous feeling in your stomach. As he waited for your response, all you could think about was how different it was from kissing Kit, how you had never longed for him in the same way, and if you were arranged to marry his sister instead of him, would you be as upset?

Your mind raced with memories of Kit: stolen kisses behind trees, late night sneakaways, sharing secrets under covers. You thought back to when Kit introduced you to lewd literature, remembering how those pictures of women made you feel. Realization hit you like a punch in the gut, causing you to clutch your stomach and audibly gag.

Airk frowned. “Was it not?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I have to go.”

You stood up and practically fled from the courtyard, leaving Airk to sit alone, his face crumpled with hurt and immersed in a flood of confusion.

Frigid winds whipped your tear-stained face as you dashed through the outskirts of the castle, your footsteps echoing against the pavement. Your mind raced, a mixture of flashbacks and fear swarming this newfound epiphany. When you reached the castle entrance, you burst through the doors, darting past your parents and ignoring the questions they fired at you.

You had to find her. You needed to speak with her.

Rushing up the stairs, you ran through the corridors, past your own bedchamber, and paused in front of another. You doubled over, resting your hands on your knees in an attempt to catch your breath, heart pounding like a stampede of wild horses.

Finally somewhat calm, you stood straight, gazing not at the door, but at the nothingness that stood between you and it. With a deep breath, you disregarded all knowledge of basic etiquette and threw open the door, not bothering to knock.

“Kit!” You cried.

Startled, Kit whipped around to face the door, not expecting visitors. Upon seeing you, her face darkened. “Oh, you again. What have you come here for?”

“Kit, please, I need to talk to you…”

“Why?” Kit interrupted. “Because you need help planning your wedding? Are you here to boast about marrying my brother? How you’re going to live happily-ever-after and have hundreds of children? Would you like name suggestions?”

“You don’t understand…” you tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat. “I can’t marry Airk.”

Kit seemed taken aback by your admittance, but her demeanor quickly hardened again. “I hadn’t realized the Tanthalos blood wasn’t good enough for you.”

“That is not the reason…”

“My apologies, your highness!” Kit exclaimed, each word dripping with venom. “I shouldn’t have assumed you would want to be the future Queen of Tir Asleen! Our lowly kingdom must not meet your impossibly high standards!”

“Would you listen to me?!” You smacked her arm, unable to stop angry tears from streaming down your face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Kit flinched upon contact, but her hostility remained unyielding. Still, she crossed her arms over her chest and squinted, waiting for your explanation.

You sniffed, choking back a sob. “Airk kissed me.”

Kit’s expression barely shifted, but her eyes momentarily flickered with confusion. “Your fiancé kissed you? How distressing.”

“You don’t understand…” you drew inward as you stared at the floor, avoiding her piercing stare. “I hated it.”

You saw Kit’s arms drop to her sides out of your peripheral vision, body language softening slightly. She took a step towards you, and you squeezed your eyes tight.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to marry Airk,” you repeated, finally looking up at her. “I don’t think I want to marry any prince.”

You took a seat on the edge of her bed and wiped your tear-stricken face. Kit stood stunned for a moment before moving to your side, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Do you think you might be a…?”

The word you’d both been raised to believe was dirty sat unspoken on her lips: sapphic.

You nodded, ashamed. The idea of a woman being attracted to other women was extremely frowned upon, especially for someone of nobility like yourself. But as you sank into Kit’s touch, societal expectations no longer seemed so scary. She always did make you feel safe.

“What am I going to do?” You wondered out loud, not exactly expecting an answer. Kit pulled you in closer, staring at you with unblinking eyes. You met her gaze.

“Kit, I…”

And suddenly her mouth was on yours, taking you by surprise and making you jump. She pulled back in fear, searching your face for any sign of resistance.

“I… I’m sorry…” she sputtered. “I must have misread something…”

Not wanting her to finish that sentence, you grabbed her face and kissed her ferociously, this time taking her by surprise. She gasped against your mouth, but soon returned the kiss with as much passion as you had given.

Kissing Kit was nothing like kissing Airk. Her lips weren’t wet; they were perfectly moist, and her skin was smooth against yours. That familiar grape-juice taste from when you were kids had aged gracefully along with her, now bursting with the flavors of sweet wine. Neither of you were very experienced kissers, but it wasn’t awkward like it was with Airk; there was no clumsy collision, just two mouths exploring each other in an act of tender intimacy.

Kit picked up her movements, kissing you hungrily with a passion that almost bordered on desperation. She grabbed at your waist, pushing you down on the bed until she hovered over you. You moaned at the unexpected feeling of your head against the soft mattress, and that was all the reassurance Kit needed to keep going. She placed a hand on your stomach and started to untie the laces of your corset, moving at a snail's pace in case you were to oppose. When you didn't, she removed the restrictive garment and inched her fingers up your blouse. You gasped at the feeling of her skin against yours, but when she pulled away to check in, you immediately brought her back to you, not wanting her to stop for anything.

You writhed underneath her as she explored the skin underneath your blouse. Longing coursed through your veins, each brush of her fingertips feeling like the warmth of a thousand suns. When she grazed her thumb across a particularly sensitive area, you moaned into her mouth, lifting your hips and pressing your core into her body. She shivered under the newfound contact, pulling away and looking down at you with apprehension.

“I’ve never really done anything like this before,” she admitted.

“P-pardon?” You sputtered through labored breaths, your body craving her in a way it had never craved anyone before.

“This…” she gestured at both of your bodies. “…is all new to me.”

“Likewise,” you whispered before leaning in to reassure her with a gentle kiss. “We don’t have to do anything more than this tonight. I promise I’m enjoying myself.”

Kit seemed to relax. “Would that be alright?”

“Truly,” you replied, because it was. It was more than alright. It was perfect.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sophi4v13

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Thinking very hard about Logan talking you through it

He knows you're close ultimately before you do. Seasoned by his many years of life, your tells are specific but not impossible to discern.

It's different each time he's come to realize. A different scent to you based on the mood you're in, how quickly he brings you there, your vulnerability, and how he speaks to you.

Logan's a greedy man. He knows that. And he knew as soon as the first time it'd happened that he shamelessly selfish in getting what he wanted.

You smell like cinnamon and vanilla and fuck if it wasn't better than all the drugs he'd ever tried combined.

A part of him still thinks he might be chasing your high.

He learned quickly how to manipulate you to get different responses. Testing out what you react to and which scent meant what.

When it's a euphoric intimacy, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla isn't so strong. It's diluted some, like a soft cloudy mist.

More emotionally frustrated intimacy smells far more tart, almost coppery. It often reminds him of blood in his mouth, soaking into his lungs and taste buds like tar.

When you're in a far more glum mood, you smell like rain on cement. He's starved for it.

You're so pretty beneath him. Eyes lidded and swollen lips parted loosely as he scissors his middle and forefinger against your velvet walls.

Logan bumps his palm against your clit and you let you a gasp – your hand jumping from the bedsheets to grip his forearm.

"Right there, huh?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you give him a nod at that, tucking your chin to your chest as he moves his other hand to press one of your thighs upwards to where your knee almost hits your breast.

He slips his hand from your cunt, moving to pull your other hand to hold your own thighs to your chest.

Wordlessly, he kneels and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed before hooking his arms around your waist.

Without warning, he runs the flat of his tongue up the length of your cunt to your clit with a deep hum.

You know he can feel you shiver beneath him by the way he smiles against the sopping folds of your cunt.

"Feel good?" He chuckles softly, looking up at you from between your thighs.

You're reduced to broken whines and choked gasps, but you manage a hum in response, readjusting your grip on the backs of your thighs as Logan slips his tongue past your folds.

You smell of faint cinnamon.

"Lo," you sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes with a chipped whine.

Logan hums into your cunt, the sharp of his nose rocking back and forth against your clit.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist, reaching upwards to weave your hands together with a soft squeeze.

"Haa... ahh." Your voice grows watery as Logan brings you closer to the edge.

"M'close, Lo," you breathe, readjusting your hand on your thigh to keep it close to your chest.

"I know, sweetie." He circles his tongue around your bundle of nerves before blowing a stream of air onto your clit, "m'gonna get you there."

When he sucks on your clit again, you're cumming almost immediately with a shiver that simmers itself down your spine to your toes.

"There we go. It's a big one, huh."

A wave of vanilla woven with cinnamon washes over him and he nearly cums in his jeans.

You hear Logan before you've noticed he's moved from between your legs to stand above you, thumb circling your clit softly.

Whining, you turn your head into his forearm beside you.

"Doin' so good, sweetie," He coos, stroking his hand, still held by your own, down the side of your face before placing a kiss on your temple.

Your smell is much more prominent there, as though it travels through the roots of your hair and tickles itself through your soft skin.

Another shiver runs down your spine, causing the air on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand.

"Need you." You sob, voice muffled by the skin of his arm.

He settles down beside you on the bed, chin propped up on the flat of his right palm, squeezing your hand with his.

"You're okay."

The vanilla sinners throughout the room, and he swears he can see it in the dust that floats past the Amber hues of his room.

sadie adler covered in the blood of dozens of men that took her husband is supposed to be a very emotional and heart wrenching scene, and it is, but the first time I witnessed it, it also unlocked something in me that i did not know was there before and have never recovered from.

i just think women should be covered in other peoples blood. i think that's natural. i think that's right.

hhhhhhhh

american kids (e.w headcannons)

pairing: southern butch ellie + fem reader

warnings: 18+ content (use of strap-ons + oral sex + ass slapping), mentions of guns since it's a southern au and all, southern dialect/accent noticeable, use of the term 'daddy' (i think ellie is the type of butch to love the name).

☼ southern butch ellie who wears a pair of joel's hand-me-down jeans while she works. sweat drippin' down her forehead, hair tied back messily to keep it out of her face. plenty of pit stains on her wife pleasers and she still looks irresistible.

☼ southern butch ellie who plows through endless fields in her tractor (and you)

☼ southern butch ellie who isn't too picky about her meals. you'll approach her lounging form, practically glued to the recliner, and tap her tanned shoulder with a plate of mississippi mud roast.

"ain't you just so sweet?" she'd tease, tugging your waist to sit on the side of the chair. when you (reluctantly) managed to pull away to clean the crock pot, you'd feel her roughened hand give your ass a little shameless smack, and if you paid closer attention, you could hear the snicker erupt from her throat.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves being called daddy in the privacy of your farmhouse' master bedroom.

in reverse cowgirl, her hands keep a firm grip over the curve of your hips. you rock your hips back and forth, whining incoherent shit she can't make anything of. you jump and look back at her when her hand comes down on your ass, a sharp spank leaving a red handprint on it. "you gonna be nice for daddy and ride her cock, quit mumblin'?" she chides. your whimper sends 1500 watts straight to her bush-hidden pussy. without further notice, you're flipped underneath her, and the harness around her waist is being ripped off so she can shut you up with her pussy on your face.

☼ southern butch ellie with plenty of ink. the single name "shimmer," her first horse, on the back of her shoulder. letters capital and thin. then, an assortment of random tattoos you wouldn't expect someone in the bible belt to have. not that ellie follows any bible, but it's surprising to see. her arms stay mainly clean, freckles on her shoulders and faded down her arms unobstructed, but she swears one day she will get your name on the inside of her wrist.

"see that vein right there, babe? right below 'er. perfect place for your name, don't cha think?"

☼ southern butch ellie who seems rough on the outside, but is the true definition of a sweetheart. you live in a trailer park? she grew up in one, doesn't judge. though that is all too common in the south, some folks still judge. she will never understand it. adding onto this, she ordinates between little and big spoon. some nights, she loves being held and squeezed to sleep. the nights when she has no plans of actually sleeping, she likes sneaking behind you and rubbing her thick belt buckle against your ass.

☼ southern butch ellie who is awkward with kids to the point it melts your heart. she can hardly speak to them, just nodding along and trying to keep up with their jumbling words. give her a couple hours with the kids, and you'll find her playing crack the egg on a trampoline with them.

☼ southern butch ellie who hunts with a rifle in the backwoods. she'll come home with a couple rabbits or a deer if she is so lucky. keeps the rifle stored away safely, but sometimes her mind drifts to your safety. if anyone even so much as thought about trying to harm you on her property? rifle is going to be used for more than forest critter.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves getting a strap blowjob, whatever you wanna call it. she gets asked all the time why lesbians use strap-ons if they don't like cock—this is why. the way the tan plastic shines neatly with your saliva. the way she can last longer than any guy getting a blowjob, fucking your throat for as long as she so pleases, knowing you love gagging for her dick.

☼ southern butch ellie who fucks you in the bed of her '97 pick-up truck, a few blankets underneath you. she'll have you in missionary with your legs wrapped around her hips, and she handles you so easily. she doesn't sputter like a man. she fucks you hard and deep, encouraging you to dig your nails into her back. she doesn't stop until she knows you're worn out.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves a good home-cooked meal from you, but knows how to whip up some bomb ass breakfast herself. hashbrowns and sunny-side up eggs, a few strip of bacon or sausage links on the side for you when you rise. since she always wakes earlier than you, she has the advantage of being able to cook for you before you are able to fuss about her morning chores and how you should be the one to cook.

☼ southern butch ellie who hates overall traffic and chaos in the city, but will drive through an interstate to one in november for every major holiday. she isn't the richest person, but likes picking up overtime to get you that specific teacup set you saw in a flea market or a lacy pair of victoria's secret panties in the mall that she catches you staring at weeks prior.

☼ southern butch ellie who makes a mixtape for the nights the two of you drink beer on the hood of her truck and roll a couple joints. and yeah, it's the classics of the south. george strait, the charlie daniels band, dolly parton, johnny cash, shania twain, willie nelson, etc. she throws in some soft older love songs like coney island baby, somethin' stupid, i will always love you, dedicated to the one i love, forever, be my baby, and tonight will you belong to me.

taglist: @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @witzs, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @meow4510, @eriiwaii, @g4ys0n, @mitskimisfit, @ruelezz, @bewareofmyglock. want to be tagged? click here

omfg /pos

my soul to keep ♡ vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie

description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.

a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion. 

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat. 

Until he found you. 

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile. 

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you. 

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them. 

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself. 

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift. 

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea. 

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago. 

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening. 

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you. 

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community. 

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result. 

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react. 

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground. 

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you. 

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground. 

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it. 

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon. 

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them. 

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.” 

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?” 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?” 

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to. 

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism. 

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you. 

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you. 

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding. 

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.” 

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family. 

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his. 

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…” 

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.” 

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really. 

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room. 

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness. 

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond. 

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine. 

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?” 

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.” 

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.” 

“I figured as much.” 

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?” 

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?” 

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?” 

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?” 

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.’ 

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job. 

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more. 

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training. 

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint. 

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either. 

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative. 

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck. 

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others. 

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him. 

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break. 

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach. 

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more. 

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention. 

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all. 

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off. 

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..." 

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun. 

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss. 

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand. 

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls. 

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same. 

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers. 

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried. 

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came. 

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright. 

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..." 

He wouldn't dream of it. 

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest. 

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside. 

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison. 

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity. 

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you. 

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance. 

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first. 

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there. 

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..." 

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to. 

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy. 

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you." 

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening. 

"I love you too, little one."

JUMPING FOR JOY WITH ACTUAL TEARS IN MY EYES I LOVE AUTISTIC REPRESENTATION IN X READERS ))): and with abby too????? a billion more please :,)

free palestine! click this link for more info + dono links (if you have links to any other gfms/resources pls send them to me so i can update the list!)

hello hello i am here with some abby x autistic! reader content bc i know i cant be the only autistic person obsessed with her. yes this is completely self indulgent.

i kinda just threw words on the page, but i hope someone out there will enjoy :)

it takes ages for you and abby to actually get together because you were entirely oblivious to her advances. during breakfast you had spent a solid thirty minutes talking about the different wildflowers that grew in north america and their significance in literature. abby thought your passion for the subject was sweet so while on patrol she picked some flowers that kind of looked like the ones in the pictures you showed her. when she presented them to you, your squeals of joy made her entire face light up. 

“ah, thank you!”

you think nothing of it, assuming she was just being nice. you always assume she’s just being nice. so when you accidentally end up on a moonlit picnic date with her and she asks to kiss you, your eyebrows raise in confusion. 

abby looks mortified “oh god, did i make things weird? i’m sorry.”

“no, no!” you reassure her. “i just…didn’t know this was a date.”

she could throw up on the spot. had she misread the situation? sure she never said the word “date”, but she told you that she wanted to spend some time alone with you. she brought you flowers, wine (if you could even call it that) that owen had been fermenting, and you two had been cuddling under the stars for the better part of an hour. 

“you can kiss me.” your fingers fiddled with the stitching of the blanket beneath the two of you. “i would like that, actually.” 

when you start dating you apologize profusely about all of your sensory quirks. you didn’t want to cuddle after she washed her hair because you hated the feeling of her wet hair on your skin. she kept separate blankets for you because you didn’t like the texture of the fabric on hers. 

you nearly cried after the only time you snapped at her. someone was playing music in the mess hall, everyone was talking over each other, the smell and texture of the mushy broccoli was overwhelming, and abby was asking too many questions about your assignments for the day. 

“please just be quiet for a second!” your tone had been a little sharper than you intended. abby looked hurt until tears welled in your eyes and you apologized over and over. you talked it over after dinner and obviously abby wasn’t mad at you (not that she ever could be). 

after that, whenever she would play music she always made a point to ask 

“is that too loud?”

and you absolutely hated patrol. all the yelling, the occasional gunfire, that god awful clicking. it was an overstimulating nightmare. abby often picked up your shifts whenever she could to save you the misery of leaving base. on the off chance that she couldn’t, she would always make sure a few pairs of ear plugs were in your bag.

you fight the need to vocal stim around people who aren’t her. it was a weight off your shoulders when you finally felt brave enough to explain it to her. at first, she just ignored them, growing accustomed to the empty noise. one day, when you’re softly meowing on repeat, she decided to join in. the two of you would meow back and forth until you erupted into giggles.

abby never made you feel weird about anything. sure, she had questions, but never in an invasive way. she just wanted to cater to and accommodate you as best she could. all because she loves you. 

i may write more of this if people like it? i have a plethora of experiences to draw inspo from lmao