#“mc is meek” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuluoyi · 9 months ago

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𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

- zayne x reader

as dawn breaks, a new chapter begins. now husband and wife in the truest sense, both of you embark on the path of happiness together. yet, bittersweet loose ends remain still. will they eventually stay in the past for good, or cast a permanent shadow over your lives?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy & sex, mentions of complications related to pregnancy, brief description of childbirth (c-section), hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here)

note: part 2 to nocturne of twilight. my god, i honestly didn't expect it'd turn out into another 8k fic but here we go :')

Lately, Zayne has come to realize just how much joy you bring to home when you’re happy.

Your smile and giggles simply light up the place.

And moreover, you get happy at the simplest of things—head pats, his snowmen... Even when he responds with jabs just to get a rise out of you, there's always a part of his heart that softens.

Today began just like one of those joyful days. He dropped you off at the Hunter Association base before heading to the hospital, and later, he planned to pick you up and perhaps stop for macarons on the way home—

Or so he thought, until...

"Hello, Dr. Zayne! Sorry for startling you. Can you come to my office? Your wife just collapsed and she is brought here."

. . .

Zayne raced to Dr. Munson's office on the third floor, panic gradually overtook his every step. His mind whirled with all the possible reasons you might end up at—

Ob-gyn office. Wait, what?

The realization struck him just as he flung open the door to his colleague’s office.

"Ah, the man of the hour has arrived!" Dr. Munson greeted him with an ear-to-ear grin.

Zayne gave a quick nod but bypassed him to head straight to the bed where you were.

You looked pale and sluggish, your eyes squeezed shut. He immediately took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, and you opened your eyes in surprise to see him there.

"Zayne..." you murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and offering a faint smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he gently touched your cool cheek.

"A bit dizzy..."

Seeing you so meek made something inside him lurch. Just this morning, you had been full of life, pouting and playfully teasing him, and now you looked so exhausted.

"Well, maybe you already know this, Dr. Zayne, but still, congratulations!" Dr. Munson clapped his hands merrily. "Your wife is pregnant!"

Pregnant. Zayne stood frozen for a moment. In truth, while the very thought flitted in his mind from the moment he walked in, it didn't make it less surprising all the same. "I see..."

Then he turned to look at you, and to his surprise, you looked away, a shy smile played at your lips, as if you were trying to make yourself as small as possible.

A child. You were with child. His child.

"How far along?"

"Almost ten weeks, give or take. Well, aren't you the one who knows the most?"

"Is she alright? Anything I need to watch out for?"

"Ooh! How sweet!" Dr. Munson laughed crisply. "The cool-headed Dr. Zayne is worrying about his wife! The nurses are going to have a field day when they know this~"

Zayne shot him a look, but didn’t miss a beat as he retorted, "Of course I am."

You looked up at him silently, your heart fluttering at his earnest response. Zayne had always been resilient, but now he seemed more dashing than usual as he fired questions after questions at Dr. Munson about you and the baby.

Baby... both of you were going to become parents. It still felt surreal, but with Zayne’s warm grip on your hand, it began to feel real. You were almost giddy.

But then, it struck you— the baby was around ten weeks.

Then it meant the day of the conception was that night.

. . .

“Here, hold onto me.”

Zayne opened the door to his car and supported you as you carefully stepped out. You were still unsteady on your feet, so he returned you back home to rest rather than heading back to the Hunter Association’s base.

“Have you been feeling unwell these past few days?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you made your way inside. “Usually, the symptoms have been noticeable for a while.”

“Hmmm,” you pursed your lips, feigning coyness. “I... don’t think so?”

Zayne quirked an eyebrow, sending you a withering stare as he realized your ruse. “So you have.”

“Hehe...” you flashed him a sheepish grin, causing him to shake his head in exasperation and pinch your cheek. “Ow!” you squeaked, quickly bringing your hand to your face.

Zayne stifled a smile, then gently guided you to the sofa. He crouched down in front of you, meeting your gaze as he took both of your hands in his.

"You need to tell me these things from now on, alright?" he said, and his steadfast gaze made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"We..." you started, steeling yourself, "are going to have a baby," you gulped, feeling heat spreading to your cheeks.

He was unfazed. "Mm, we are."

You shifted uneasily, avoiding his gaze. "Are you... happy?"

Your voice wavered at the end, and your hand felt clammy. Suddenly, your stomach too twisted with nausea. Who would've thought that you would conceive a baby from a night that he called a mistake?

However, Zayne tilted his head, seemingly taken aback. "I am."

"Huh?"

"I am happy," he repeated, blinking back at you. "Are you?"

You gaped, caught off guard by his candid response—but then again, when had your husband ever been anything but straightforward?

"But you don’t seem happy!" you accused, pursing your lips. "You’ve been frowning the whole way home."

He shot you a flat look, his expression unchanged. "This is just my face."

You continued to pout, and Zayne sighed. His frown softened as he gently cupped your face, making you look up at him.

"You silly girl, what husband won't be thrilled when they hear that his wife is expecting?" he caressed your face, before poking it. "I'm just worried about you, you still look pale."

"You..." your eyes found his uneasily, at a loss of words. "But this baby is…" Your gaze dropped, anxiety swelling. "From… the night of—"

Your response stunned him, and you didn't dare to look him in the eye. It was still something that gnawed at you inside, because what if—

What if he thought this baby is a mistake?

In that moment, understanding dawned on him. His ashen eyes widened in surprise. You braced yourself for his reaction, but then—

His hand rested on your head, patting you gently. "You carrying our baby..." he faltered, gazed fixed on your averted eyes and then lips. His voice came almost in a whisper:

"This... is the best thing that has happened to me."

Thump! Your heart soared, warmth flooding through you in that very instant as you met his gaze. On the contrary, Zayne felt a crushing weight seeing the tears shining in your eyes. How deeply had he hurt you before that you’d doubt his feelings?

"I promised you that I’ll treasure you better," he said, pulling strands of your hair behind your ears. "This time, let me prove it to you."

Somehow you felt like crying at the sheer sincerity in his words. "You... like the baby?"

A gentle smile touched his lips as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. "I do. Truly."

"I... am so happy too," you finally choked up, the first tear slipping down your cheek. You quickly brushed it away, feeling a bit silly for tearing up. "I... have always wanted us to be a family..."

Zayne pulled you into his arms, letting out an exasperated but fond sigh. "A certain someone really does like to cry... And now with a baby on the way, am I going to lose my mind worrying about both of you?"

"Hmph," you wrinkled your nose. "A certain dad-to-be better work on his skills to express himself better, then."

"I'm going to focus my energy on more important things, such as thinking of all ways I should do to keep you from getting into trouble."

"...? I don't get into trouble!"

"You stumble even on empty air, I've seen it myself."

Two years ago, you had envisioned your happily ever after with him, and then you weren't sure if you would get it at all. And now, as you walked towards a new beginning together, you were wholly certain.

At least, that was what you thought.

The days following the reveal of your pregnancy were filled with bliss.

Only that, sometimes... you ask for tall order—

"Zayne... I want that plushie..."

"We have tried it three times already. That machine is rigged."

"B-but! Look, that couple won some!"

Some weeks later, the two of you were at an arcade, and your eyes were literally shining as soon as you saw the Happy Snowman plushie in the claw machine.

And ever since, you had been tugging at his sleeve and dragging him to catch it for you... only to no avail so far.

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. "With the way you’re acting, no one would believe you’re about to become a mom."

"Isn't that the whole point?" you fired back, puckering your lips, before mustering your best puppy eyes and bringing your hands together. "Please? Baby wants it so much."

He knew you were using the baby card just to get your way, but you looked so adorable doing it that it often worked—evident from how he lined up once more for the long queue at the claw machine.

"This is the last time," he decided, giving you a flat stare when you two reached your turn. "If we lose, we're buying the one in the souvenir shop."

"Teehee~" you giggled in delight. You'd get your plushie either way. Zayne was always listening to you even with his grumbles, and it made you inwardly kick your feet in joy.

Despite being cross, Zayne was better at this than you. He almost snagged some plushies several times, and this time, he skillfully maneuvered the claw, pressing the button with precision—

“Oh!” Your eyes sparkled as the claw secured your prized Happy Snowman. “Zayne! Just a little more!”

"Yeah, yeah..."

Just like that, the claw released the snowman into the hole. As soon Zayne handed it to you, you practically squealed. "Ahh! Finally I got you!"

You were so full of childlike excitement, even though you were just months away from bringing a child into the world yourself. Zayne watched you silently, and despite himself, a soft smile tugged at his lips.

"Do you want more?" he asked. "We still have three chances left."

"Yes!" You beamed at him. "I want the penguin and crow!"

Apparently, he was weak to your wishes. He then took the machine again, and maybe luck blessed him this time because soon enough, he got you two of them right after the chances ran out.

“Hehe! We’re bringing them home!” You patted each plushie with delight, your giggles drawing the attention of nearby kids.

"Mom, look! That uncle gets many plushies!"

Zayne felt his eyes twitch. Uncle...?

You tried and utterly failed to hold back your laugh.

And you heard another couple bickering nearby as they threw glances at you and your husband—

"I want that crow plushie..." the woman lamented, despondently eyeing the claw machine and the three plushies Zayne had managed to win for you.

Her boyfriend, a scary-looking tall man with red eyes and rider garbs, turned to her with a snort. "Why would you even need that ugly crow for? We have crow at home."

"...Mephisto doesn't count! You're just saying that because your luck and skill are trash!"

"Tch. I can open a whole arcade just so you can tear those plushies into shreds, sweetie... just so you know, there’s a price when dealing with a devil, hmm?"

Opening an arcade only to satisfy his girlfriend's wants? You thought in a passing. Crazy.

. . .

And then your emotions are practically a whirlwind of roller coaster...

“You’re mean!” you sniffled, pointing a righteous finger at your husband and the kitty cards on the table. “You always reduce my kitties whenever you get the chance!”

Zayne exhaled, trying to explain himself. “I just make do with the cards I’m dealt with.”

“But you’re trying to take out my cats all the time!”

“That’s the gameplay. If I let you win, you’d say I’m underestimating you.”

“So, are you saying I’m bad at this?” You looked at the cards with heartbreak etched on your face, your lips quivering. “Am I?”

Uh-oh, he knew what it was. You were a stone throw away from bursting into tears and one wrong word could set you off altogether.

“No, you’re not bad...” he began, carefully choosing his words. “The kitties... they’re just not cooperating with you, that’s all.”

“So, they’re cooperating with you,” you pouted, cross. “Is that what you’re trying to say?!”

Sigh... this is going to take a while...

But ultimately... you’re also incredibly precious.

“I’m going to make an amigurumi for our baby,” you announced, smiling brightly as you settled between his legs with a crochet kit and a snowman pattern in hand. “I just know they’ll like it.”

“You know how to crochet?” Zayne asked, resting his chin on your shoulder and slipping an arm around your waist, gently touching your growing bump.

“Hmph!” You tilted your chin up with a smirk, turning to face him. “Of course, I can!”

“Oh…?”

“It’s a little side hobby,” you explained with a giggle. “I can’t resist having and making cute things~”

Zayne thought he’d laugh, but instead, it was a wave of bittersweetness that washed over him. Because apparently, even after being married to you for two years, there were some things about you he didn’t know.

He was fond of you. He knew you liked a fair amount of sweets, what your favorite food and color were, and that you couldn't sleep without turning off the lights. But then he realized...

"Does it have to be a snowman?" he asked, his eyes fixed on how skillfully you handled the hooks.

"Mm-hmm! It does."

"Why do you like it so much anyway?"

"Ah..." Your movements paused slightly, and you suddenly looked down, a hint of sheepishness in your expression. "Well..."

This way, you looked adorable somehow. Zayne squeezed you gently. "Hmm?"

"You might not remember it... but the first time we met..." you felt heat creeping up to your face but pressed on nonetheless. "I asked you to demonstrate your Evol and you showed me by creating a snowman out of thin air."

Right at that moment, Zayne could've sworn that his heart skipped a beat. That meeting... how many years ago was it? Five? Six?

He could barely remember it until you mentioned it, and yet you held that memory dear.

"Maybe it sounds stupid to you," you puffed out your cheeks. "But I think you’re similar to a snowman. You look cold on the outside, but you bring happiness to so many people. You save lives…"

The way you described him so highly made him flutter inside. Suddenly he felt soft. Soft for you. You were utterly precious, genuine and all this time, he hadn't even truly realized it.

"And to me, you..." you gulped, suddenly self-conscious. "You are... warm, just like the sun..."

The sincerity in your words touched him so deeply that it left him speechless. You had loved him and it was evident in all your actions.

Now the question is, has he done the same for you?

You brightened his life just by being yourself. Most of the time cheery, sometimes snarky, and often times decidedly spoiled... all those sides of you—

He adores them all. And he knows he'll treasure you until the end of time. And now, he's going to show you that.

Before he realized it, he had planted a kiss on the nape of your neck, and you sucked in a breath as you dropped the crochet hooks. "Zayne...?"

And then his lips pressed harder, trailing kisses along your neck, while his hands slipped inside your pajama top, caressing your skin ever so gently. The unexpected touch made you unwittingly moan.

"Can you... finish crocheting another day?" he breathed in your ear, cupping your breasts tenderly, and you almost jolted. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

It felt as if your face had caught fire, your whole body flushing with sudden excitement. Your heart raced wildly at his husky voice, and the very thought that your husband desired you was deeply thrilling.

"But you..." your voice hitched, trying not focus on his fingers. "...are never gentle."

Zayne blinked at you in surprise. "Am... I? That's not true."

"Should I jog your memory?" You pursed your lips. "One time, you threw me on the bed—"

"Well—"

"And that time you had me on all fours—"

"That's—"

"And the night we conceived this baby too—"

"Right. Alright." Zayne’s cheeks flushed with warmth as he released his grip on your mounds. "You might have a point, but this time, I assure you…"

He turned you to face him, and before you could even react, he leaned in close, his breath tickling your collarbone as he whispered:

"I will take good care of you tonight."

He made good on his promise.

This time, his hands moved with a gentleness that took your breath away. Zayne started with peppering your skin in soft, lingering kisses—starting at your jaw, then trailing down your neck, collarbone, and chest.

And when his lips finally reached the slightly visible but firm swell of your belly, he paused, pressing a kiss there that seemed to hold all the love he had for your baby.

The sight pulled at your heartstrings. The very fact that Zayne cherished this little life growing inside you filled you with a happiness so profound, it nearly overwhelmed you.

And soon...

"Ahh... aah!" you writhed, arching your back, your lower body laid bare as his tongue lapped eagerly at your folds. It was, by far, the most erotic thing your husband had done to you— he usually didn’t spend this much time for your pleasure.

But as always, he was not much of a talker during sex. Only dangerous gleam in his eyes as he glanced up from between your trembling thighs that let you know he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

"Ngh!" You gasped when the tight ball of nerves inside you finally burst, mewling helplessly as you yanked on his hair, and he ate you out even more greedily in response. You had always known it, but moments like this made it undeniable—

Zayne turns completely into a different man while bedding you. Who would have guessed that the stoic, straight-laced head of cardiac surgery could be reduced to a man consumed by lust at the sight of his wife's body?

. . .

He had always liked having you on top. This time, Zayne made sure to prepare you exceptionally well before easing himself inside you, yet, just like every other time, you still felt impossibly tight around him.

“Ah, ah... I-I’m—!” you whimpered tearfully, your walls clenching around his girth, face overtaken by sheer pleasure. “’s full...”

It didn't take him long to bust, really. With a beautiful wife sitting on top of him, eliciting sounds like that... how could he resist?

But maybe he pushed you too hard. Lust won against all his senses as he relentlessly slammed his hips against yours, and he distinctly felt the moment you stifled a scream and came hard around him.

"Are you... alright?" Zayne asked in a groan as he reached his orgasm, his release flooding inside your womb in a rush as you clung into him tightly, shuddering and spasming.

You nodded and collapsed against him, savoring the feeling of how filled up you were. In return, he cradled you close as he slowly pulled out of you. "I-I... am..."

You curled into him, and he pressed a tender kiss on your head. In that moment, you truly felt that there were only two of you in this vast world.

Gently, he lifted you—one arm supporting your legs, the other around your back—and carried you to the bathroom to clean you up.

. . .

“Drink.” Zayne held the cool glass of water to your lips, and you obediently took a sip, your gaze lingering on the gap in his bathrobe where his chest peeked out.

He was so, so considerate. He carefully handled you as he washed your body and wrapped you in the bathrobe earlier, soothing you each time you let out a whine.

It was the most comforting aftercare you had experienced. After making sure you weren’t parched, he tucked you under the comforters, joining you soon after and pulling you close.

“Are you comfortable now?” he asked quietly, straightening your hair.

“Mm-hmm.” You snuggled closer with a smile, tracing a finger along his chest.

Somehow the way he cared for you now made you remember how your relationship was back then. He didn’t dote on you this much, he was good to you but you knew deep in your hearts that he wasn’t really there. But now…

He is yours. In every sense.

“You’re tickling me,” Zayne tutted gruffly, catching your hand and pressing it to his chest.

“So? What will you do?” you teased with a playful grin. “Will you eat me up again?”

“…” His narrowed eyes made you giggle, and you pressed yourself even closer, relishing the afterglow.

You had promised yourself not to bring it up again, but feeling vulnerable in this moment, you couldn’t help but whisper:

“You… have changed,” you muttered under your breath. “Thank you… for thinking of me.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but his arms tightened around you suddenly. Warmth spread through you, feeling as though he were shielding you from the world itself.

Weeks passed by, and soon enough, you reached the middle of your second trimester.

“We’re going to find out the gender today!” you excitedly noted in the passenger’s seat. Zayne glanced at you with a smile, silently looking forward to it too.

He was relieved that your first trimester had passed smoothly, with only a few bouts of sickness. Now, before he knew it, you were already halfway through the journey.

“If it’s a girl, I hope she won’t be a troublemaker like her mom,” he slyly retorted.

You shot him a glare. “And if it’s a boy, I’ll make sure he doesn’t spend all his time studying and turn into a robot like you.”

The journey to fatherhood still didn’t feel entirely real to him with your chirpy self, but as your belly swelled and rounded with each passing week, he began to realize that the day was quickly approaching.

It made him feel warm, and he wished he could show it to you better just how much happiness you brought to him now.

You rummaged through your bag and exclaimed, "Oh, I forgot the appointment card!"

Zayne sighed, turning the steering wheel with a small shake of his head. "See? The little mom can be so scatterbrained at times."

You slouched in your seat, crestfallen. "Sorry..."

"It’s alright," he gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he noticed your expression drop. "I’ll get it. Where did you leave it?"

"In the first drawer of my vanity desk, I think…"

After arriving back at home, Zayne headed straight to your shared bedroom and searched through your drawers. The first drawer only had your perfumes, so he moved on to the second drawer, which apparently only had more makeup supplies.

And so, he pulled the third drawer, and there were a stack of envelopes there. Curious, he pulled one out, thinking it was the card he was looking for—

—but then, suddenly, he was in a state of shock. Never would have he expected to find what he had on his hand then.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to blur, his entire world reduced to those three stark words on the page. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, a heavy weight settling in his stomach as the realization hit him.

Petition of Divorce — and your signature... was there.

Something seemed a bit off about Zayne, you noticed later that day.

You were really looking forward to finding out the baby's gender, and you thought he was too. He stood by your side all the while, holding your hand as the ultrasound probe pressed against your skin and you waited with bated breath for Dr. Munson to announce—

“Well, it’s a girl!” he declared with a wide grin. “Whoa, Dr. Zayne is going to be a girl dad, huh?”

“Oh my…” Your eyes sparkled with joy at the news. You were fine with either, but you knew Zayne had secretly been hoping for a girl, and you turned to him with pure elation. However...

“That’s… good.” His response was brief, and although he was smiling, something felt off. You had been observing him for too long not to notice—you knew when your husband was distracted.

What is he thinking? Despite yourself, you began to worry.

“Zayne?” you asked later, holding his arm as you both exited Dr. Munson’s office. “Are you thinking about work?”

He turned to you almost immediately. “No.”

“Then why are you frowning?” you asked innocently, trying to lighten the mood by touching his face. He swiftly caught your hand.

“This is a public place,” he said in a strained voice, causing you to stiffen at his tone. “I’ll take you home first.”

Something was not right. Now you were convinced and it started to bother you.

“Actually… I need to go to the Hunter Association's base first to finish my deskwork,” you said.

His brows furrowed even deeper. “Can’t you just submit your leave?”

“Ah... I’m on half-day leave today. I need to wrap up as much as I can before I go on maternity leave later.”

“Next time,” he snapped, his gray eyes locked on you, “Whenever you have appointments, take a full-day leave. You’re in no condition to be working, especially as you get further along.”

"Zayne, are you... upset with me?" you fired the question then, because it seemed like he really did, and suddenly you felt a bit sick at the very thought.

He was certainly not expecting you to ask that, and for a moment, Zayne froze, before he exhaled and his frown softened a bit.

“…no,” he finally said, his tone gentler. “I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

But ever since that day, you knew something had happened to him that he suddenly he became a little distant towards you.

. . .

Zayne hadn’t meant to snap at you. If anything, knowing you were carrying a baby girl filled him with unbridled happiness.

But still, there was still a part of him that wanted to demand answers from you—that part of him that was deeply hurt by what he discovered.

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t take it too hard. No matter how much he reflected on it, he knew he hadn’t been the husband you deserved. He knew his faults and understood how much he had hurt you. From the very beginning, you deserved someone who would see only you and no one else—and he hadn't been that person before.

Even with that understanding, he was left with an unresolved hollowness. You had doubted him enough that you were ready to file for a divorce once. It didn't mean that the same thing wouldn't happen in the future.

Does he have it in him to make you happy? He had promised you he would. While he wasn't the most affectionate, he tried his best, and he intended to keep trying.

But now, after learning this, he found that not only you, but even he too was able to doubt himself.

"Zayne...?"

You peeked your head inside his study one night, several weeks later, a hand resting on your bump. You really didn't want to bother him when he just arrived, but you figured you had to tell him.

For the past week, you’d been throwing up, and it didn’t feel right. He had been at a symposium in another city since the start of the week, and you tried to wait it out. But today, you almost blacked out, and now you were genuinely afraid.

"Y/N?" he turned to you just as he laid his briefcase and the moment he saw you, he frowned at how pale you looked.

Zayne immediately stalked towards you and pulled you closer, feeling your neck to check your body temperature. His eyes widened in realization. "You have a fever."

"I-I... feel lightheaded today," you sputtered, clutching his arm. "And... I’ve been vomiting too..."

"I'll get you checked in at Akso," he decided, grabbing the car keys and led you out of the room by the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me in your calls?"

Very lame excuse, but you tried to defend yourself nonetheless. "It wasn't this severe before—"

"You should have told me." His response was curt, but his fury was evident. You almost shrank at his tone, but Zayne didn't reprimand you further as he helped you into the passenger seat.

The drive was tense and uncomfortable, making you feel even worse. The silence only amplified your anxiety, and it didn't help that you had noticed how distant he was lately.

"I'm sorry—" you blurted but then suddenly, you sucked in a breath, wincing and fisting your dress when you felt the start of a cramp just below your ribs. "Ahh..."

Zayne’s panic surged at your pained gasp. He gripped your hand reassuringly, all trace of anger vanishing instantly. "We’ll arrive soon. I promise you’ll be alright."

At that moment, despite all fears you had—for your baby, of his sudden shift of behavior—you held back your sob and squeezed his hand in return.

. . .

You would be staying at the hospital until all the test results came in.

Zayne sat on the chair beside you, gaze fixed on you as you lay connected to an IV drip in the private room. Though he tried to mask it, he was still shaken. He knew better than anyone that fever and cramps at more than 20 weeks often signaled something was wrong with either the mother or the baby.

The thought of ailments beyond his control affecting either of you made his chest tighten. He loosened his tie and let out a sigh, trying to ease the constriction. "How do you feel now?"

You looked at him, managing a smile as you replied, "I’m fine now."

Seeing you bedridden like this was something he hadn’t realized he dreaded until that moment, and yet, there you were, smiling. You... smiled.

He couldn’t understand why the sight he usually adored suddenly stirred this swirling anger in him.

Your answer seemed to hit a nerve in him as his expression darkened, and anxiety struck you again, twisting something in your gut. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before..."

His lack of response only deepened your unease. "Before today, I didn’t feel faint at all, so I think it’s just something I ate."

He still didn't deign you with any answer. Zayne’s apparent disregard for your words frustrated you, bringing you close to tears. "Say something..." you urged, feeling the tears burn behind your eyes. "I know you're upset, but now I'm scared too."

You really wanted him to comfort you. You knew the Zayne from several weeks ago would do just that, but now you had a feeling that the man before you now wasn't that same man any longer.

"We’ll see when the results are ready," he said then, facing you with a stoic, matter-of-fact tone, as if he were delivering a diagnosis to a patient rather than speaking to his wife. "Don’t fret too much. Have some rest."

Is that... all he has to say to you? A part of your heart withered at his detached response, the tears frozen in your eyes. What happened to him?

You were about to confront him for an answer when his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.

"Hello? Yes, it's Zayne. Who is this?" he questioned flatly, eyes narrowed into a dissatisfied frown, before suddenly his expression lit up with understanding when the person on the other line introduced themselves.

You could hear the faint sound of a man's voice from his phone. And when Zayne addressed him, a sudden chill spread throughout your body.

"Caleb? It's... been a while."

You felt cold. Caleb. You never really knew him but you had certainly seen him. Once at a funeral, and once at your wedding. He too is Zayne's childhood friend, and more than that, he is the brother of—

Why? Why did all emotional suffering you had to go through, somehow or another, always come down to a dead woman who was once your husband's lover?

When he ended this call, you didn't even pretend to be considerate anymore. "What does he want from you?"

Zayne looked taken aback by your sudden hostility but answered calmly, "He’s in Linkon now and asked if we could meet."

"Must you really see him?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I don’t like it," you spat, venom clear in your voice, turning to him. "I don’t like it at all when you have to be involved with people related to her!"

Finally, you said it. You had never made it clear before, but this time, you felt like you were entitled enough to. You were having his daughter, and if he was still entangled in an illusion of his past girlfriend with you, then—

Zayne responded to your outburst with a suppressed sigh, visibly keeping his frustration in check. "He is an old friend, Y/N. You're too emotional right now that you jump into conclusions and stress yourself out."

He was right, your emotions were spiraling, but right now you were too heartbroken to care for it.

"Do you know what I fear the most?" you asked, tears shining in your eyes. At last, you voiced the dark, unspoken curse that had haunted you since the very beginning of it all:

"I’m afraid that one day, you’ll wake up and realize that either me or our baby is a mistake."

Zayne barely got any rest that night.

In the end, faced with your tears, he didn't respond because he didn't want to prolong the argument. More strain for you could put both you and the baby at risk.

Later, he told himself. No matter how much he berated himself for not noticing the signs of your illness sooner, or wanted show you that you and his unborn child meant everything to him now— later. He wouldn't risk you, and it would be better if you talk later with cooler heads.

Little did he know, that "later" would never come.

Numerous missed phone calls from the nurses station after he stepped out of the operating room sealed your fate. And when Greyson burst into his office, out of breath and panic-stricken, it was like being doused in scalding water.

"Dr. Zayne! Miss Y/N! Sh-she has just been rushed to ER for severe bleeding!"

Just like that, his world crashed and shattered beyond return.

. . .

"Dr. Zayne, I'm not sure how I should break this news to you... As a medical professional, you already know how serious this condition is..."

Everything was his greatest nightmare realized. Dr. Munson’s diagnosis struck him with a searing force, paralyzing him on the spot.

"Your wife has preeclampsia."

The nurses said you had been screaming and bleeding heavily. He too had seen it himself—the blood splattered across the pristine floor when he arrived, just moments after you were rushed to the emergency room—and the sight made a chill run through his spine in horror.

"She just experienced a partial placental abruption because of it. This causes bleeding in the mother, and also increases the risk of premature labor."

Dr. Munson’s explanation was crystal clear, yet it sent Zayne into a daze. It felt as if his chest had been ripped open, leaving him hollow as he stared numbly at your figure, peacefully asleep after the emergency treatment you had been put through.

Zayne clasped your hand in his, feeling the invincible knife lodged in his heart twist painfully.

You aren't supposed to be this cold. He gently griped your hand, his face contorted with agony. How terrified must you have been? How much did it hurt? Despite trying to push the memories away, seeing you like this brought back the nightmare from three years ago.

Only that this time, it was you. And not just you, but his unborn child as well. Both of you... there was a chance that both of you wouldn't survive.

The sheer thought made him stagger, because no, if it was the devil’s way to punish him, then it was beyond cruel. He had failed you once already, and he knew what happiness was by being with you, and to lose all of that in one blow—

"Zayne! Can you make me one more snowman?" you pleaded, your eyes sparkling as you pointed to the little gap between snowmen already perched on the window. "Just one more! It’ll make the line perfect!"

"I’m afraid that one day, you’ll wake up and realize that either me or our baby is a mistake."

It was so, so painful. His chest constricted at the contrasting memories and it took everything he had not to give in to his spiraling fears.

With everything I have, I love you. None of it mattered anymore. The divorce papers, whether he could make you happy— what was important was that It was unthinkable to lose you now. He would trade his life if it meant sparing you, because the pain of losing you would destroy him.

You had always loved that little thing he made on a whim. He opened your palm and shaped the ice through his manipulation, placing the palm-sized snowman in your grasp, hoping it would protect you throughout the night.

You remembered the excruciating pain, the primal dread of losing your baby, and the horrifying sight of crimson streaming endlessly between your legs, also how you screamed for anyone for help.

When you regained consciousness, the scent of fresh linen and alcohol was the first thing that greeted you. Dawn had already arrived, but the sky outside remained dark.

Your right palm felt cold, and that’s when you realized you were holding something. At the same time, you noticed the weight in your other hand—

Zayne. Your husband slept on the edge of your bed in such an uncomfortable position while holding your hand, his brows taut into a frown, only with a coat to cover himself.

He is here. You quietly watched him, and despite everything, you realized once again how much you loved him—even more that he was here for you.

Snowman… you stared at the little toy in your other hand, and overwhelming warmth washed over you at the thought of him creating it for you just before he slept.

The baby… what did you go through? Is she fine? You really couldn’t shake the feeling that something grave had happened to you.

You had to know. You pulled your left hand out of his grasp and caressed his face. He has to shave soon, you noted, feeling the stubble that had started to grow there. Still, you couldn't help but marvel at how handsome he was.

Your gentle touch soon caused his eyes to flutter open, and Zayne jerked awake, instinctively catching your hand. "You're awake..." he rasped, his voice rough with exhaustion.

He looked at you as if he was in disbelief, and immediately rose and squeezed your hand. You looked up to him, feebly asking, "What... happened to me?"

His face fell right that moment but you pressed on, "Tell me. I have to know..."

Zayne's reluctance was obvious, but the plea in your voice made him waver. Finally, he sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed.

"The test results have come back," he began, his voice adopting the clinical tone you recognized from when he spoke to his patients. "Your blood pressure is abnormally high, and there was protein found in your urine sample... These are signs of a condition called preeclampsia."

Shock marred your features in that moment, because you had heard what it was and what it meant for your baby.

"The only cure for preeclampsia is delivery. And at the same time the placenta has detached from the wall of your womb. This way, our baby—"

You had watched Zayne deliver devastating diagnoses to his patients before, and he was always steadfast. But this time, even his voice wavered.

His gray eyes seemed to glisten under the light as they held your gaze. "She's being deprived of oxygen and nutrients because the placenta can no longer supply them. You may also experience heavier bleeding, more cramps, and fetal distress. The best course of action now is to deliver the baby as soon as possible."

It felt like receiving death sentence. No matter how you looked at it, the conclusion was the same. "B-but..." you stammered, your whole body trembling, shaken by the enormity of it all. "S-she's just... barely twenty-six weeks..."

The way devastation bled in your voice pierced him. Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his arms, letting out a long, drawn-out breath as he held you close.

"I'm here," he assured, trying to console you. "You don't have to be scared. We'll monitor you closely until it's possible for you to give birth to the baby in around thirty weeks. I'll make sure of that."

The first of your sobs began. "...i-is it me?" you clutched at his coat mournfully. "Did I… p-put the baby into distress somehow— that it causes the placenta to fall away?"

"No," he firmly shushed you. "It's a condition that can flare up anytime. Don't blame yourself for it."

Still, how could you not? More than yourself, you feared for your unborn child. You sobbed harder, and Zayne held you even as his coat had started to dampen from your tears.

Your predicament broke his heart too, but at the same time, he found the perfect moment to finally show you the entirety of his heart.

"You told me you were afraid I'd come to see both of you as a mistake," he murmured, gently running his hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. "But how can our daughter be a mistake when—" his voice caught, choking on the words, "—when I've loved her so much already?"

The strain in his voice made you look up, and you were taken aback by the intensity of his gray eyes that bored into you.

“Both of you... are so precious to me.” Zayne locked his eyes with yours, sincerely meaning everything he said as he cradled the side of your face. “The thought that anything might happen to either of you... is unbearable.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice hoarse, “What if… you continue to bleed and it leads to seizures? What if— you and the baby won’t make it? These are so unbearable for me.”

His words went straight into you, and for a moment, your tears receded as they sank in.

"I can’t give you my past." His voice tinged with melancholy, the expression on his face was torn. "But I promise you, at least in this lifetime..."

He gazed at you with the unwavering look you had fallen in love with, the same gaze you once admired from afar, long ago.

And then, his next declaration took your breath away and made your heart soar like never before. A wave of love surged within you, almost overwhelming you—

"Right this moment and my future—it's for you. For both of you, always."

From that moment on, you knew you would trust him completely. From that moment on, you finally let go of your doubts, knowing that you had nothing to fear with him by your side.

Zayne was by your side whenever he was able to.

You were on bedrest at the hospital ever since, but he always stayed the night here to accompany you, barely going back to home for a change of clothes.

"You’re really making a snowman..." he remarked, observing your fingers and the crochet hooks he’d brought from home so you could keep yourself entertained. "I think you need to add a bit more fluff there..."

Your face brightened with a grin as you cut the yarn. "Don’t worry, I’ll make it extra round."

The weeks in the hospital dragged on, but they also gave you more time to work on your amigurumi. When you finished putting the final touches on it, you proudly presented it to Zayne—the snowman with a blue shawl and black hat, two little round eyes, and a beaming line of smile. "Ta-da! Look, it’s even cuter than the ones you made!"

A happy you was always the sight he loved to see above all. "Yeah..."

"Do you think she'll love it?" you suddenly asked, poking the snowman doll you just made, feeling warm at the thought that your cherished baby will soon play with it too.

You looked so endearing that Zayne felt an overwhelming urge to pull you closer. “She will,” he chuckled, giving you a reassuring pat on the head. “Didn’t you say before she will?”

And soon, you reached the thirtieth-week mark. The time had come to finally deliver your baby.

. . .

"I can't feel anything..." Your voice came out as a soft whine while you lay on the operating table, your lower body numb and obscured by the surgical curtain shielding you from view.

Zayne, standing beside you in a mask and headcap, grasped your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. "If you could feel it, you’d be screaming."

The C-section was the only way to ensure both you and your daughter would survive. It felt surreal to know they were basically cutting you open, yet you were unable to feel anything.

"Will... she come out healthy?" you asked your husband hesitantly, worried about your soon-to-be born baby. "I'm worried..."

Zayne glanced at you and gave your hand a light squeeze. "Don’t worry too much. You should be more concerned about yourself. Think of all the food you want to have when you get home, and I’ll get it for you."

You shot him a glare. "You make me sound like a foodie."

"You are a foodie."

Despite the ongoing surgery, Zayne’s lighthearted jabs were his way of easing your anxiety. Even though they irked you, you appreciated his attempts to lift your spirits.

And soon—

You heard a feeble cry, though quickly drowned out by the cheers of the surgical team beyond the curtain. You gasped and turned to Zayne, who was fixated on the tiny baby in Dr. Munson's hands.

He didn't even blink. It was almost as if he was spellbound by the sight. Nothing mattered because his daughter was here. Really here.

"Zayne…" your voice then broke the spell. He turned to you, who weakly smiled at him with tears in your eyes.

For the first time in your life, you saw tears of happiness glistening in his eyes as he stared at you— the woman who had just given him a daughter to love and dote on.

He immediately leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead. Your heart felt so full, even though he wasn’t able to fully express it in words. In that moment, you could feel his profound love for you and the new life you would embark on together.

"She is so small..."

You pressed yourself as close as you could to the see-through glass of the neonatal unit, straining to get a glimpse of your baby daughter. Though you weren't well enough to walk three days after the surgery, you insisted on Zayne wheeling you over in a wheelchair just so you could have a peek.

"She’ll grow big soon," Zayne said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder when he noticed your sadness. "She’ll stay there for a few more weeks, and then we can bring her home."

However, your expression twisted into a worried frown as you watched the gentle rise and fall of your baby’s tiny chest inside the incubator. Even when he had reassured you that it was by all means just an unfortunate condition, you couldn't help feeling that it was your fault somehow that she ended up there.

She had his tufts of black hair, but you weren’t able to get close enough to remember her face clearly. The fact that you hadn’t held her in your arms yet made your heart ache.

"Mommy is sorry that she can't carry you to full-term..." you croaked out, lips wobbling, a hand tracing the glass separating you from your new baby, and Zayne inhaled sharply at the sight.

It hadn’t been easy, but you had made it through. Both of you had. And to him, that was more than enough. So, you needed to hear it too.

He crouched down in front of you, catching your attention instantly. You tilted your head as his hands rested gently on your shoulders.

“Thank you for delivering our daughter safely,” he said with the softest of smiles, ever so genuine just as you were in all times of the two of you together.

Your eyes widened a bit at his sudden gratitude, and when he took both of your hands together in his, gazed at you with such earnestness in his clear ash-grey eyes, and traced his thumbs over your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat.

“And most of all, thank you... for being safe too.”

Those words brought immense warmth to you, and the prettiest of smile lit up your face then at the way he looked at you as if you were his most prized treasure. Just like that, once again, he cast all your fears and doubts aside.

And deep down, you knew that with him by your side, everything was going to be alright.

taglist

@sillyfreakfanparty @rjreins @enterrandomusername @castellandiangelo @admirablefangirl @luna4mnoon @prettytemis @onliafaze @aviesnapkindoodles @jinniebby2 @mnemeosyne @elliesndg @haichii @pearlymel @kissingtruth @mccutelittlesheep @certainduckanchor @itsbabyabby @thdcre @aerithsthingss

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straylightdream · 2 months ago

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limbo

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoon jeonghan x afb.reader, choi seungcheol x afb.reader

when things fall apart he’s the one that always puts them back together.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: coming soon

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): roommates to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, and more angst romance, smut

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): college au, nonidol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k and counting

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: asshole!seungcheol, he’s honestly a dick here, but he is trying to be better, insinuating that mc is passed around with her roommates, jealous seungcheol, mentions of protective/jealous jeonghan, jeonghan is quite literally the best boy here, lots of hurt and emotions in this one. best boy roommate joshua.

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, soft sweet vanilla sex, heated make out session, body worship, marking, showering together, cum play, creampie, breast play, p in v intercourse, cock warming?, nicknames: darling (hers), hannie, baby (his)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

𝐚𝐧: this is technically part two to desperate measures a Seungcheol story. You can read this as a one shot tho.

🎧: limbo - keshi | hell/heaven - keshi | understand - keshi | beside you - keshi

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

- PREVIEW -

Jeonghan knows you like the back of his hand. Since the moment he met you he’s understood you like no one else. He can tell when you’re happy by the way your eyes light up. He can tell when you’re sad, even when you’re trying to pretend you aren’t.

Coming home from school he can immediately tell that something is off. He saw Seungcheol before he headed out. Seungcheol seemed more moody than normal. Joshua seems lost in his own world working on a song for his music production class.

The moment you walk out of your room dressed in a hoodie and pajama pants Jeonghan knows something is wrong. There is a look of sadness behind your eyes.

His eyes stay focused on you as he watches you walk off into the small kitchen. He drops his book bag by the door and follows you. He stops to lean against the door frame. He clears his throat, capturing your attention.

“Darling?”

Turning to face him, you don’t bother trying to put on a fake smile. His stomach drops at the sight of your watery eyes.

You feel dumb. Why are you sad that sex with Seungcheol did lead to some romantic gestures? You don’t even have that strong of feelings for him.

“Hi, Hannie.” Your voice sounds meek.

“What’s wrong?” He steps closer to you.

“Nothing.” It’s a lie and you both know it.

The closer Jeonghan gets to you he notices something on your skin. He takes a slow deep breath realizing the mark that painting the skin on your delicate neck is a hickey. He knows logically that mark could have only been given to you by two men. One being Mingyu, the frat boy he knows has been pursuing you. Or the second option, the one that will make him mad, it’s from Seungcheol.

“What happened to your neck?” He’s trying to stay calm. He has no right to fully fly off the handle unless you didn’t want them to mark you. You aren’t Jeonghan’s by any means, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish you were.

“Jeonghan it’s nothing.” You sigh, reaching up to cover the mark.

“Was it Mingyu?”

“Hannie.” You step away from the counter. It’s clear you’re trying to get away from this conversation. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #keopihausnet #mansaenetwork #seventeen smut #Jeonghan smut #yoon Jeonghan smut #Jeonghan x reader #yoon Jeonghan x reader #Seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #dreamie writes #seventeen x reader

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reunionatdawn · 2 months ago

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Why I think you should be able to romance Yosuke in the P4 Remake

Canonically speaking, Yosuke is pretty much Junpei 2.0. The straight bro best friend to the MC who is obsessed with getting a girlfriend. However, there was a romance route for him that was cut from the game, probably late into development. This would have no doubt recontextualized his entire character arc.

"Comphet," short for compulsory heterosexuality, is a term used to describe the societal assumption that everyone is naturally heterosexual. This concept suggests that people may feel pressured to form heterosexual relationships due to cultural norms and societal pressures, rather than genuine attraction. My opinion is that Yosuke's original character arc was supposed to be an exploration of this idea, due to how much support there was for it in the narrative. And here’s why I think they should add this idea back in for the remake, which looks to be on the horizon.

In P4, everyone's shadow was connected to their sexuality or gender role. Chie was a tomboy who was jealous of Yukiko's femininity. Yukiko was a "Yamato Nadeshiko" who was sick of being fetishized as the ideal girl, which in Japanese culture, is often overly meek. Kanji was bullied because of his feminine hobbies and adopted a hypermasculine thuggish persona. Rise felt disillusioned with her oversexualized idol persona and the performative aspects of show business. And Naoto dealt with internalized misogyny which manifested in her adopting a male persona.

Yosuke: And what's this about checking out this world for Saki-senpai's sake? Hah! I know the real reason you came snooping... You just came because you thought it sounded like a good time! What else is there to do in this shithole? A world inside the TV—now that's exciting! You didn't have a single other reason for coming here, did you!?

Yosuke was the odd one out, as his shadow mainly involved his repressed resentment at living out in the countryside and being very lonely. His shadow also had the least humiliating baggage to expose. He had feelings for Saki. But his shadow self's "dark secret" was that he was more excited about exploring the TV world than genuinely investigating her death. Shadow Yosuke accuses Yosuke of not being as sweet on Saki as he appeared to be. However, this idea didn't really go anywhere.

When the Magician card is reversed in a Tarot reading, it can suggest manipulation. In a relationship context, it means that someone may be presenting a false image or facade in order to manipulate the perceptions of others. And that idea certainly fit Yosuke. He pretended to be carefree. But what if he was also pretending to be heterosexual? What if the "horny straight bro" was just a mask? Is there any evidence of this? Actually, I think there was.

Shadow Yukiko: Tonight, Princess Yukiko has a big surprise—I'm gonna go score myself a hot stud! Welcome to "Not a Dream, Not a Hoax"—Princess Yukiko's hunt for her Prince Charming! And I came prepared: I've got my lacy unmentionables on, stacked from top to bottom! I'm out to catch a whole harem, and the best of the lot is gonna be all mine!

The Shadows in P4 are partly comprised of the suppressed thoughts and emotions of the actual person. There was a part of Yukiko's subconscious that felt like she needed a "Prince Charming" to save her. But the shadows who showed up on the Midnight Channel were also formed from the desires of what the general public wanted to see. Yukiko herself didn't really want to score with a harem of hot studs. It was the male students at Yasogami High who truly wanted to see that happen.

Yosuke was very nonchalant about failing the "Amagi Challenge". He took it in stride, almost as a badge of honor. And I found it very interesting how he showed absolutely NO reaction whatsoever to what Shadow Yukiko said. Nothing. If it were any other boy at school, I'm sure he would have had something to say about the most popular girl talking about how badly she wanted to lose her virginity to a bunch of hot studs. But Yosuke acted like he couldn't have cared less. He just said that the stuff she was saying sounded weird and that was it.

Yosuke: I haven't changed addresses since before we moved to Inaba. I mean, I might get a text from someone…It's hard to call, y'know? If I called people just to tell them my number changed, they'd get annoyed. And some of them never planned to text me anyway… Oh but hey, don't look at me like I don't have any friends!

According to Saki, "Hana-chan" didn't hang out with the other guys much. But in Rank 3 of his Social Link, it seemed like he desperately wanted to have closer relationships with male friends. And that may have been the true reason he happily took on the Amagi Challenge when he was a new transfer student. He probably just wanted to fit in with the other boys.

Yosuke: Haha…I never thought I'd be talking about serious stuff like this. Before I moved here, it was all small talk…Stupid, trivial things. I thought that was fine. It's only with you guys that I talk seriously like this. I dunno why, but I feel like I don't have to lie… Especially with you. You've already seen the worst of me and all. But well…thinking about it now, if someone had to see that, I'm glad it was you. It's a bit late now, but… Thanks for going in with me that time. Yosuke is smiling sheepishly…

By Rank 4, Yosuke acts very different around Yu than he does around the rest of the Investigation Team. He never acts this serious or sincere around anyone else. The other members of the group also open up emotionally to Yu. But Yosuke especially acts like a totally different character. He takes off his mask around Yu and only Yu. He's probably the first friend—especially a male friend—that he ever had where he could just be himself instead of adopting a false persona to fit in.

Yosuke: I can't get my mind off certain things whenever I have a spare moment… (option 1) Yu: Certain things? Yosuke: Uh, you know…stuff. I mean, well… Argh! Let's not get into it! Why do I get the feeling this is going to turn into a depressing conversation!?

During an evening conversation that occurs around Golden Week, Yosuke hints at some unresolved baggage related to his Shadow.

(option 2) Yu: Like Saki-senpai? Yosuke: Oh, come on... Of all the things you could bring up, you pick that one? I mean, that's part of it, but... I dunno, how do I put it? Argh! Let's not get into it! I don't wanna have this conversation!

Saki was part of it, but not the only thing. And he was blushing, too. The implication was probably that he was developing feelings for someone other than her and he might have been feeling a bit guilty for that. Or at least, that was my own personal interpretation.

Yosuke: Y'know, Chie and Yukiko seem different lately. They're a lot closer. Oh yeah, I was just curious, but are you...Ehh, never mind. If we keep chatting, we're gonna be late.

But there is evidence for that interpretation. After Golden Week is over and the group is headed back to school, Yosuke attempts to ask Yu if he is interested in Chie or Yukiko. The fact that he was so hesitant about asking made it stand out a bit to me. He probably had feelings for someone within their friend group.

Yosuke: Oh, I almost forgot. It's kinda off-subject, but as long as you're on the line, mind if I ask something? It's something I've been meaning to ask for a while. So…what do you think about Yukiko and Chie? I mean, let's not mince words: Which one's your type?

Before the stakeout for Kanji, he finally asks Yu which girl is his type.

Yosuke: Huh? Seriously? So that's the kinda girl you go for, huh...? She is a great girl, though. Plenty of fun to be around, too.

If Yu answers that he's interested in Chie, Yosuke acts a bit surprised. Not in an insulting way. He just assumed it would be Yukiko because all the guys in school were crazy about her.

Yosuke: Ohhh, I had a feeling you'd say that. She's actually pretty interesting. I never knew she was like that. My image of her has changed completely, but I like her way better now. Hey, but don't worry. This is just between you and me. Okay, see you tomorrow.

If Yu says that he is interested in Yukiko, Yosuke says he suspected as much. He doesn't say anything about her looks or anything. Interestingly, he just says that his image of her has changed, but he likes Yukiko more now after seeing her true self. Almost as if he didn’t have a very great impression of her before.

Yosuke: That being said…Yukiko, can I have your cell number? Chie: Hey…Was this your plan all along? Yosuke: Uh, no? I got everybody's phone number except for hers. And the Y section of my address book needs some filling out.

During the stakeout, he asked Yukiko for her phone number. So, the player would probably assume that Yosuke wanted to go out with Yukiko. That is what Chie assumed, after all. But I think that was a red herring.

Chie: Hey, how do you think the others are doing? Yosuke: Beats me. For all we know, he's hitting on Yukiko as we speak. Chie: Yeaaaah, no. He's not like you. Yukiko doesn't seem to be interested in that stuff anyway. Wait—are you saying he's interested in her? Yosuke: Huh!? Uh…I…wouldn't know…We don't really talk about that kinda stuff…Hahahaha. Chie: Now I'm even more suspicious! You know something, don't you? Yosuke: I-I seriously don't know! It's not like we've been hanging out that long, haha…

But Yosuke actually seemed less interested in Yukiko herself and more interested in the possibility that Yu might be interested in her. Even if Yu tells him that he's not interested, Yosuke probably didn't believe him. So, it’s possible that he wanted to become closer friends with Yukiko so that he could know right away if she and Yu started dating.

Shadow Kanji: I think that you three…would make wonderful boyfriends. Yosuke: S-Stop it! Y-You got it all wrong!

Kanji's arc introduces the idea of homosexuality into the story. And Yosuke got worked up over Kanji's shadow FAR more than he did with Yukiko's. When he called Yu after Kanji's Midnight Channel program aired, he was "too flustered to get his point across". And Yosuke felt the need to deny Kanji's Shadow almost as much as Kanji himself did.

Shadow Kanji: Accept me for who I am! Yosuke: Wh-Whoa! I really don't swing that way!

It gave me the impression that themes of Kanji's dungeon were just as relevant to Yosuke's character arc as they were to Kanji's. Perhaps even more so in some ways.

Kanji: I, uh…I don't really get it myself. Girls are so loud and obnoxious, so, y'know…I really don't like dealing with 'em. Guys are a lot more laid-back. S-So, uh, I started thinking…What if I'm the type who never gets interested in girls…? And I couldn't accept that, so I kept spinning around and around in my head… Yosuke: Well, I can understand the part about feeling more relaxed around dudes.

Homosexuality is a societal taboo. It is often something that people suppress and do not accept within themselves. It is actually the perfect subject to explore for a game about the shadow self. I don't think Kanji was gay. But I do think that Yosuke was originally supposed to be. And a lot of what Shadow Kanji said hit a little too close to home for him.

Chie: Well, the night's kinda fun. We cook our own meals with mess kits and sleep in tents. Yukiko: The four of us are in the same group. Yosuke: The same group, huh…? Does that mean we sleep together at night, too!? Chie: You wish! Guys and girls sleep in different tents! I'm warning ya…If you leave your tent at night, you'll be expelled on the spot.

When Yosuke found out that they were all in the same group, he actually stood up out of his chair. You're meant to think he reacted this way because he was thinking about sharing a tent with girls. Typical straight teenage boy. But I'm sure he knew they weren't sleeping with the girls on a school trip. His reaction probably had nothing to do with the girls. He probably got worked up about sleeping in the same tent as someone he had been developing feelings for.

Yosuke: This is as good a time as any, so…I-I want you to be honest with us. Kanji: Uh…okay? Yosuke: A-Are you really…you know…? Kanji: Am I really what…? Yosuke: What I mean is, uh…Are we gonna be safe with you? Kanji: Wha—!? Wh-Wh-What the hell's that supposed to mean? I-I already told you guys I'm not like that!

According to Jung, psychological projection is a major aspect of the shadow. When individuals project, they unconsciously attribute qualities that belong to their own shadow onto others. This allows them to avoid confronting these aspects within themselves. If they had stuck with that original idea, I don’t this scene would have been so controversial and offensive to people. By taking Yosuke's same-sex attraction out of the narrative, the game felt a lot more juvenile as a result. Yosuke's homophobia could have been used to explore his shadow self. But instead, it was just used to take cheap shots at Kanji for no reason other than comedy.

Yosuke: W-Well then why are you all hot and bothered about it!? That's just more suspicious!

The irony of this line certainly wasn't lost on me. And I don't think the writers were so lacking in self-awareness that they didn't realize how Yosuke was the one getting all hot and bothered by anything related to homosexuality after Kanji's dungeon. I think it was supposed to raise some suspicions in the player about Yosuke's sexual orientation.

Yosuke: And c'mon, you guys gotta admit I chose some good suits. Those girls might be childish on the inside, but I bet they're gonna turn into some fine-looking women before too long! Don't you think so, Yu?

If Yosuke was always intended to be written as a straight guy or even a bisexual guy, this part would come across as misogynistic and kinda creepy. Even Stupei wouldn't buy swimsuits for his female friends. But if Yosuke was actually meant to be a gay boy, this is more of a sad attempt at imitating a straight boy to appear "normal". And if that were the case, his behavior with girls is a lot more forgivable.

Yosuke: So…? You keep the goods under the futon? (option 1) Yu: Huh? Yosuke: C'mon…No need to play dumb. Don't worry. I'll still be your friend even if you're into the freaky stuff. Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

Yosuke wasn't truly interested in Yu's dirty magazines. He was only interested to learn more about what kind of girls he was into. I know they added a scene in Golden where Teddie finds Yosuke's porn stash and he shows it to his parents. It's played straight as pure comic relief. "Haha, Yosuke never stops thinking about girls". But in his Rank 5 SL, this felt like it was meant to be a more serious topic.

(option 2) Yu: Of course. Yosuke: Hahaha! Why are you acting so dignified about it? Alright, I'll check 'em out when you go take a piss or something. I'll expose your embarrassing tastes!! Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

The "embarrassing tastes" comment was interesting.

(option 3) Yu: What, don't you? Yosuke: Haha! Like I'd hide mine in such an obvious spot! One time, my mom found it and read the title out loud to the whole family… Yosuke is reflecting on his past…

It actually sounds like Yosuke was the one with "embarrassing tastes". If his mom felt the need to shame him in front of the family like that, it leads you to wonder what he was looking at exactly. Sure, it could have been some typical straight boy stuff. But what if it was a men’s magazine or something? Depending on how traditional his family was, he could have received disapproval for that.

Yosuke: So, you ever invited a girl in here? (option 1) Yu: I haven't. Yosuke: Haha, maybe you're more of a man's man than I thought. Yosuke seems happy…

Yosuke seems happy if Yu is not planning to bring a girl over.

(option 2) Yu: I will soon. Yosuke: Seriously!? That mean you're working on someone!? Yosuke is keyed up…

And he gets keyed up if he is.

(option 3) Yu: I have. Yosuke: Seriously!? Who'd you… I'll stop there. I think it's better I don't know. Yosuke is smiling wryly…

He probably assumed it was Yukiko and he didn't wanna know any more details than that. Again, due to comphet, most people would probably assume that he was just jealous because he wanted to date her himself.

Yosuke: Because she likes him…? M-Man, kids sure are mature these days…Well, my first love was in first grade, too! I've always been ahead of my time. But, well…I don't really need that in my life right now. It's just not the time…I have something I need to do before that can happen…

But he actually didn't. His true feelings are quite different than his public persona where he's obsessed with getting a girlfriend. Especially in Golden, like with the motorcycle scene. Yosuke said he was ahead of his time. And I think he was. His character arc seemed to be about being closeted and coming to terms with it. But that was a trickier subject during the time period which the game first came out.

Rise: And the bustline… Yosuke: Huh? Rise: Mine aren't that big. Yosuke: Oh yeah, I see what you mean now… I-I mean…What am I saying!? U-Um, I'm sorry…!

Similar to Yukiko's Shadow, Yosuke had no real interest in the sexual aspects of Rise's Shadow. The Midnight Channel zoomed in to emphasize her chest and waist area, which was due to the general public's interest in her sex appeal. Yosuke told Yu he could tell it was Rise by the hairstyle. However, in front of the others, he said he knew it was her because of her figure. It's a minor detail, but it suggests that his reaction was completely performative. He didn't even recognize her figure in person that well anyways.

Chie: Let's hurry and rescue her! Yosuke! You better not slack off, hoping she'll "bare it all" if we take our sweet time! Yosuke: I-I wouldn't pull a stunt like that! Yukiko: …… Yosuke: Wh-What's with the silent treatment!? I won't do that, I swear! Believe me, I know! We'll rescue Rise before the fog sets in!

The female members of the team assume that Yosuke would want to take as long as possible to save Rise so he could see her strip.

Shadow Rise: Eee, how embarrassing! Is this too hot for TV!? Well, if a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing all the way! I'm gonna bare it all for you! Heehee! Stay tuned! Yosuke: I-Is she serious about baring it all!? Is it me, or are these shows getting crazier and crazier!? Yosuke sounds excited. Yu: We're in no rush. Yosuke: Huh? But if we don't recue her, isn't Risette gonna...s-strip...? *gulp* Dude, we can't let her go through with that!

However, if Yu actually suggests that they take their time, Yosuke doesn't even get why. He doesn't want to see her strip and never even jokes about it, like Junpei no doubt would have.

Snooty student: So it's Kazumi now that Saki's dead!? Don't even bother, she has a boyfriend. Didn't you get it!? Saki didn't like you! We heard so from her! She may have acted that way, but… They started to badmouth Saki-senpai… Yu: Shut up! Yosuke: Yu… Snooty student: Wha—Who are you!? You shut up! Yosuke: You're the ones who should shut up!! What do you know about Saki-senpai!? She didn't do things half-assed like you! She looked lazy, but she worked hard! She talked bad, but she was good inside! So she hated me? I knew that! She's not here anymore! I'm left behind! …Just leave me alone.

In Rank 6, Yosuke didn't become angry when he listened to the girls gossiping about Saki. He only lost his temper when they insulted Yu.

Yu: You were just upset. Yosuke: N-No, I was just… Yosuke is smiling pathetically… Yosuke: Damn…Another pathetic display from Yosuke, huh? Thanks, though. Hearing you say that stuff to them…It made me happy.

Saying "You were just upset" in Rank 7 is a flag that unlocks the option to hug Yosuke in Rank 8. And the Rank 8 hug was probably a potential romance flag, just like when Rise was crying, and the game warns you that this is an important moment and there's no going back. The fact that these flags were still left in the game suggests the romance route was taken out relatively late in development.

Yukiko: The people at the inn keep asking me questions every day, like "What kind of guy is he?" and "Is he handsome?" *chuckle* I'm sorry I got you involved. Yosuke: …… Oh, uh, I'm going to go take a little walk. Yukiko: Huh? No, it’s not what you think!

When Yukiko is at Rank 6, this is the dungeon dialogue between them. There was definitely a love triangle going on between Yu, Yukiko, and Yosuke. Yosuke was clearly jealous.

Kanji and Teddie were conveniently removed from the equation. But Yosuke was a King's Game option. Kanji wanted Naoto to enter the beauty pageant to prove to himself that he was into girls. And Yosuke signed up all the girls. Was he also trying to prove himself straight?

Yu: What kind of girl do you like? Yosuke: W-well, for me, um... I guess a girl that's kind and sorta fragile, you know? Someone I'd want to protect...

Yosuke actually had a hard time with this question. He gets one on those blank scribbly symbols over his head. He was actually describing a Yamato Nadeshiko, which is the idealized woman in Japanese culture. A very safe and generic answer for someone who is "totes into girls" but has no specific type. Kanji's answer to this question was more detailed because he had a specific girl he liked in mind.

Male class rep: Okay…your turn. Who would you want to date? Yu: Yosuke. Yosuke: Okay, we get it! You're good at role-playing! Now quit it! You're creeping me out… Kanji: There are many forms of love…Didn't you tell me something like that? Yosuke: No! Not at all! Well, I admit, I'm pretty dependable…and decent lookin', right?

If Yu sits on girl side, Kanji is also an option. However, Yosuke is the one who gets hot and bothered by homosexuality. At least in public. Privately, he apparently told Kanji off-screen that he had nothing against other forms of love.

Yosuke: Your turn. What type of girls do you like? Yu: A kind girl. Yosuke: Ooh, me too! You get this urge to care for and protect them...

If Yu sits on the boy side, Yosuke is the one who will be forced to sit on the girl side. And he will single out Yu with his question, to learn what type of girl he likes. He can respond that he likes a girl like Chie, a girl like Yukiko, or a kind girl. Yosuke is very happy if Yu says he likes someone he has the urge to care for and protect.

Yu: Any of us you like, Yosuke? Yosuke: Well, you guys are all wonderful... But I think you'd be the most reliable. I-I mean—You idiot! Don't make me play along!

Yosuke would choose Yu to date because he's "reliable". It begs the question. Did he want a kind girl to care for and protect? Or did he truly want to be the kind fragile girl being cared for and protected by a reliable guy?

Yosuke: …I found this. It's a Print Club sticker I took with Saki-senpai… When I first got here, she insisted on taking it… Back then…somewhere inside me, I thought I was above this place… A lot of people saw me as the enemy because Junes was going to ruin the shopping district. But…when I met her, she told me, "Parents are parents. You're you…" Even if she didn't really mean it…it made me happy. Because of her…I started to think maybe this town wasn't all that bad. But then… Yu: She dumped you? Yosuke: No… that didn't matter. As long as she was still alive…

Yosuke was still mourning Saki's loss in Rank 8. But his relationship with her was not particularly close. They were coworkers for less than a year and he knew she didn't even like him. However, she accepted him. That's why he latched onto her. He probably thought he liked her romantically. Maybe he even wanted to like her, since he was so lonely. But I think as he spent time with Yu, he slowly realized that he never really did. But he did have those feelings for Yu.

Yosuke: Yu…I get it now. I wanted to forget about Saki-senpai. How she's not here anymore. I wanted to forget that…I was living a boring life in the middle of nowhere. When the murders started, I got excited…I thought there was finally a point to me being in Inaba…I thought I could forget Senpai was gone…and the fact that I was such a loser…I jumped at the murders and never once thought about what I was doing… I… didn't even take the first step…

I believe Yosuke liked Saki as a person, but he wasn't in love with her or anything. She was a crutch to help him forget his loneliness. And when she died, he latched onto the excitement and mystery of TV world as a distraction. And he felt very guilty over that.

Yosuke: But I think I'm awake now… I need to get over the fact that Saki-senpai isn't coming back… That when this case ends… I'll have nowhere to run… And I won't have changed… …… …You made me realize that. It seems you were able to act as Yosuke's crutch… You feel a bond between you and Yosuke.

The reason Yosuke was crying was probably not because of his deep grief over losing Saki. It was likely because he had found a new emotional crutch. And he was a lot closer to Yu than he was to Saki and even more afraid of losing him. He was afraid of what would happen when the case was over, Yu went back home, and he was all alone again.

(option 1) Yu hugs him Yosuke: You dumbass…That's for girls…

Yukiko's character arc was about moving away from stereotypical femininity and the whole ideal of Yamato Nadeshiko. She became more independent and assertive. But I think Yosuke's character arc was probably meant to mirror hers in many ways. He wanted to be the "girl" in a relationship, but he learned to view that desire as something shameful and he was unable to acknowledge it within himself.

(option 2) Yu pats his head Yosuke: Haha... Quit treating me like a kid...

Amusingly, the kanji for nadeshiko (撫子) also literally means "child being petted".

Yu: Be a man. Stand up straight. Yosuke: Haha… You're right. I wonder what'd be going through my mind if I was man's man like you. Yosuke is smiling weakly…

Yosuke was not a man's man like Yu. He had an obnoxious dudebro persona he adopted in a social setting, but it was not his true self.

Yosuke: This town I hated so much? Now, I love it. There's still nothing here, but I have family and friends...and you. The important things are never far off...They're all around you. Yosuke seems a bit embarrassed... Yosuke: I always wanted to be "special." I thought my life'd finally have meaning if I was "special" to someone. That's why I was really excited when I got my Persona. But I really didn't need it…It's not what you have or what you can do…Just being born, living your life…Before you know it, you're already special to someone. Yu: You're right. Yosuke: Yeah…Like you…You're special to me, you know?

Comphet can cause people to pursue romantic relationships even when they are not sexually attracted to the person. They often don't feel like someone of the same sex is even an option. I don't think Saki was truly "special" to Yosuke. But he wanted to be special to someone else so badly, and he thought that a girl was his only option. So, he latched onto the first girl to show him a tiny bit of acceptance.

Yosuke: There's something I wanted to tell you. Somewhere deep down… I didn't trust you. No, it's more like…I was jealous of you. I thought you were like me. Coming from the city to the countryside, I thought you'd be bored out of your mind here. But as soon as you got here, you called your Persona…Became our leader, gathered people…You're a hero. I like you for that, and I'm proud of you…But I guess I was jealous at the same time. Yu: I didn't know. Yosuke: I didn't know it either…When I called you "special," I thought some more about it. I think out of everyone, I wanted to be acknowledged by you the most…

Yosuke had an unused confession where he would tell Yu that he liked him. And based on the Japanese wording, there's almost no chance it was meant in a platonic way. It's how people express romantic liking. He was jealous of how Yu was special. But I don't think it's because Yosuke wanted to be the hero, the way Junpei did. Yosuke wanted to be special to Yu. But he didn't feel like he was good enough because Yu was more objectively cool and special. He wanted to be an equal partner.

Yosuke: So… I want you to hit me! Give me a good one. Knock out all this crap inside me. I want to be equal to you. I want us to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. So c'mon… Will hitting Yosuke make you and him equal…?

In Rank 10, the game asks whether fighting will make them equal. I couldn't help but laugh. No, I didn’t think it would. It made no sense to me whatsoever.

Yosuke: Phew…The sky's so high up. Is Saki-senpai watching us…? Is she smiling at us? Senpai…I'm going to live. Without lying to myself, without deceiving myself… Days like today, days like before when I did nothing… They're all important days… They're all days you didn't live to see… I'm going to live them here.

As the culmination of his character arc, Yosuke said he would not deceive himself anymore. I was left wondering... When did that happen exactly? I could understand if this dialogue happened after Yosuke confessed his feelings for Yu and finally came out of the closet. Whether Yu reciprocated or not, it would have been an amazing conclusion to his arc and made him a much more interesting character. But sadly, it never happened.

I have no idea why they needed to have a fistfight for Yosuke's Persona to evolve. I think that when the romance confession part of the SL was taken out, the "dude brawl" scene was probably added in its place. They needed some emotionally cathartic moment, but didn’t really know what. I know this wasn’t the intention, but it almost felt like the game was telling me I had to beat the gay out of Yosuke. I didn’t like that.

The question now is: will Atlus change this Social Link in the inevitable remake? I think there’s a good chance they will. The P3 remake removed the transphobic scene. In Catherine, they added a route where Vincent embraced his bisexuality. And Yosuke’s over-the-top homophobia just wouldn’t fly nowadays without some kind of character development.

#p4 #persona 4 #yosuke hanamura #souyo #comphet #yu narukami

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snowballseal · 8 months ago

Text

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that.

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look.

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.”

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question.

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly.

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework.

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers.

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

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comatosebunny09 · 18 days ago

Text

more ex-assassin!reader shenanigans

cw: non-mc reader, reader implied to be femme, crossover, mild language, unrequited (?) feelings, mild jealousy, angst, not proofread, stream of consciousness

You throw your door open, prepared to go into town for groceries. But you don’t expect to see a familiar riotous mop of white hair and the unmistakable scarlet eyes that always accompany them standing at your door.

Six months. He’s been an apparition living in the bowels of your mind for six months. You were starting to get over him. Slowly beginning to release those feelings squeezing your heart in their unrelenting grasp.

And then he had to go and fuck it up by showing his stupid face.

“Hi,” he says, voice a little shaky, a little unsure as he peers down at you with a twitch of a smile. That tone still disturbs the dust particles around you. His presence is still overwhelming, as if commanding time and space to bend just for him.

When you pick your jaw up off the floorboards, you manage a meek, “Um, hi.”

His shoulders drop the tiniest bit. To anyone outside, he’s a confident hulk of a man. But to you, still well-versed in his tells after all these years of working under him, you know he’s stalling. A scared little man who didn’t expect to see the woman he jilted thriving and free. Alive and putting herself back together, brick by rickety brick.

“Can we talk?” he asks, tone so low, it barely carries above the breeze sifting through the grass on your lawn.

Always straight to the point. Always down to business. No, ‘How are you?’ No, ‘How have you been?’ Just straight to the nitty gritty, to the meat and potatoes. Of course, that’s one of the things that drew you to him—you hated when people beat around the bush.

You will your voice to work in your favor today. Not to waver, not to belie the conglomerate of emotions welling in your chest—fear, anguish, resentment.

One hand on the door, you step aside to usher him in with a faint smile pulling at your lips. “Sure. Come in.”

You’re going to learn to regret this. You’re doing more than just inviting your old boss into your home; it’s almost like you’re inviting him back into your life.

—

Of course, seeing Sylus, a dark cutout of power and refinement, sitting on your quaint armchair with a teacup and saucer in his giant hands, surveying your humble surroundings, loosens some of the tension in the air—just a little bit.

You stifle a snort behind your fist, setting your tea down on the coffee table. He reminds you of a Doberman puppy, still capable of violence in the right hands and situation, but curious and unassuming as he takes in the pastel colors and grandma-esque decor littering your home.

It’s nothing like the luxurious fibers adorning his mansion in the N109. Nothing like the posh furniture he decked your safe house with in Linkon, reasoning you needed the best. It’s a simple style that suits you and this new life you lead. Earthy, minimalistic. Nothing complicated, but still synonymous with this soft-girl thing you’ve been trying out.

“I didn’t know you liked pink,” he says into his teacup once he’s done quietly judging you, taking a sip, eyes creased with a bit of humor over the rim, watching you.

You adjust on your armchair, halfway offended. Cross your legs, throwing up that mask of nonchalance he seasoned you into wearing. “Well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

There’s a bite of malice to your voice. An underlying resentment beneath the playfulness. He catches it if the tightening of his jaw is anything to go by—the slightest sharpening of his gaze, gleaming like heated steel.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t dare try him like that. Sure, you’ve teased and bantered with your old boss. But saying anything else would warrant a fate worse than death.

But, do you really care right now? He’s the one encroaching on your space, your peace, with his stupid, still handsome face and his ridiculous stature that still makes you feel a sparkle of something low in your belly.

He could kill you right here and now for running away. For leaving his side after he shattered your heart like sea waves scattering against the rocks. That prospect doesn’t scare you. Not like it used to when you first fled. No one would notice. No one would miss you, save for Leon, who would eventually get over the tiny crater you left in his life.

Sylus sets his teacup down, and you stiffen, half-expecting him to snap his fingers and turn you into cinders. But, he doesn’t. Instead, he hits you with a “Fair enough,” around the resigned curl of his lips as if he missed you giving him shit.

You blink owlishly, watching him sit back in your armchair as if he’s always been a part of the decor. He props his elbows on the armrests, tapping the tips of his fingers together, scrutinizing you like a rare protocore he’s hellbent on buying.

You try not to shiver under the weight that gaze still carries. Under the power he still boasts over your body, your psyche, and he’s only said a few things to you.

Ignoring how your heart pounds something violent in your throat and how your throat feels dry as if coated with sand, you pitch yourself forward, elbows on your thighs, gaze narrowing. The buzz of questions in your mind outweighs that of fear. You want him out of your home, this town, your life, as quickly as possible. But not before you interrogate him on how and why he’s here.

He beats you to the punch, eyes softening, smile a little more disarming. “You look well.”

You’re taken aback again. You half-anticipated him insulting you. You blink, your mouth trying vainly to form coherent words. “Uh, thanks.”

He leans forward to mirror your posture, and you get a good look at those scarlet irises. “You got a tan? It looks good on you.”

You chuckle nervously, sweeping an errant lock of hair behind your ear. Inwardly admonish yourself, because what’s with you acting like an enamored little teen in the face of your heartbreaker?

You clear your throat, remembering yourself. Putting back up that indifferent, tough girl front. He’s trying to manipulate you. Wear you down. He knows he’s fucked up. You won’t fall for it.

“Yeah. Easy to get a little color when I’m not stuck somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.”

It’s like you punched him in the gut. He flinches the slightest bit. Winces, huffing out a quiet chuckle as he studies the floor. Good. You want him to hurt.

Tired of beating around the proverbial bush, you spout out, “Why are you here, Sylus? The twins send you? I know you sent them and Mephisto to snoop around. Keep tabs on me. You trying to drag me back? Because I’m not going back to that shit hole or anywhere with you without a fight.”

You brim with confidence beneath the glacial fear snaking down your spine. You mean every word—even if you know you’ll lose, he’ll have to drag you back kicking and screaming.

He made his choice. You weren’t it. And you’ll be damned if you fall back at his side like a sad, lovestruck puppy, watching him fall in love with someone who isn’t you.

Sylus fixes his mouth to say something, a little taken aback by your defiance. A little wounded. But before he can get an excuse out, the chime of your doorbell fills the thickened atmosphere of your home, effectively disrupting whatever come-to-Jesus meeting you were having with your boss. Perfect timing.

You exchange a glance. You don’t miss the desperate flash in his gaze when you peel yourself from your chair, striding towards your front door.

You snatch the door open, relieved to see serene ocean blues staring down at you.

“Hey,” says Leon, voice all playful and smoky. He leans against your doorframe, bicep spilling from the short sleeve of his shirt, smile devastating against the stubble on his cheeks. “Your parents home, little lady?”

You snort despite yourself. Despite the tension coiling in your gut. You tamp it down, trying to play it cool. Cross your arms, propping your shoulder against your doorframe to mirror him. “How can I help you, Mr. Kennedy?”

His gaze flits between your eyes and lips. Leon grins all the more wider, straightening to gently tug at a lock of your hair. It’s a pleasant sensation, pins and needles sparkling in your scalp. You bite your lips, bite back a smile, shaking away from his touch.

He reminds you of a kicked puppy, the way his smile drops and his brows fall at the outer corners. You’ll make it up to him later—you promise.

“Came to take a look at your dryer,” he says once he’s picked up his pride, holding up a toolset.

Ah. Fuck. You forgot.

As if remembering your nefarious guest, you pull the door slightly closed, wedging yourself in the gap to blot out the sight of otherworldly white. “Can you come back tomorrow?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

You rub the scruff of your neck, a nervous titter on your lips. “Um…something came up.”

Leon chuckles, fingers skating over your cheek. “Like what?”

“Like me,” a resonant voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you stiffen.

Leon glances up, his humor traded for confusion at the towering man behind you. He narrows his eyes, and the tension brewing in the air between them is palpable. You don’t have to look back to see that stone-faced look Sylus is wearing. To see the tense set of his jaw, the fire and brimstone in his eyes.

You’re caught between them, a flimsy barrier amid their stare-down, and all you can do is sigh and shake your head.

This wouldn’t have happened if you just told Sylus to fuck off in the first place.

How do you even begin to introduce them to each other? Old love interest who broke my heart, meet boyfriend-in-training who’s mending it?

#sylus x non mc reader #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus angst #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy x reader #ex-assassin reader series

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