#* ✫ . * ✧˚( they made you into a weapon and told you to find peace ✧ inspo)

[forgotten-retrouvaille]

(nourish) - leon making pancakes for her

Paperwork was never something that Jill enjoyed . Even so , it occupied most of her nights , her evenings - it was better than staying up only to stare at the ceiling and think .

Maybe a part of it rested in the guilt that still bore itself heavy on her soul , perhaps it was needing something to do , to focus herself on something that wasn't the anger she felt towards the organization for refusing to put her back in the field , the anger that they wanted her on the sidelines - they said until she recovered properly , but Jill wasn't a fan of their excuses . Even still , she would take what she could get - it would at least assuage part of herself , knowing she was one step further to fixing what had happened the last year .

The ex-cop had been up since the little hours of the morning , stirred awake by nightmares , and unable to return to the peace sleep was supposed to bring . Now , she was sat in front of the desk in a room that she had designated as her home office , papers strewn across the polished wood , empty pens accompanying half-finished reports , a radio resting towards her side . A hand ran through her hair as she let out a long exhale , blue ink scrawled across the stapled parchments in front of her .

Movement out of the corner of her eyes , the soft clink of ceramic as it was placed on the table in front of her , a stack of freshly-made pancakes resting on them . Jill's gaze flicked away from the paper , the stark white almost seared into vibrant blue - she would not complain if she did not have to see any more of those typed letters from a printer that was definitely running out of ink . She could see the cracks in the black , in the gray .

The pen was still held tight in her hand - half full with the cap practically snapped off . A moment passed , and she set it down , turning her gaze to the man standing at her side then .

"Didn't know you were up this early ." Exhaustion was written in her tone , letting out a soft breath .

[clawsextended]

holly is incredibly tolerant of selina. most people would think it weird, how patient she is with her mother’s eccentricity. how little her strangeness bothers her, and how easily she ebbs and flows with all of the cat’s decisions.

but the thing is that was not always so. whatsoever. a young holly was nothing but an infant, bounced from one lap to another through a stuttering series of stinted foster homes — golden curls and a garish giggle — and that toddler was finally placed in a home with one selina kyle. it was selina who first took to the child, and it was holly who bit and scratched and screamed and shrieked. she was fussy, loud, made messes everywhere. (and she remembers selina taking the punishments. she remembers selina insisting the coloring all over the walls was her even if it didn’t make any fucking sense.)

holly didn’t know that girl. so she didn’t trust her. she was so little, and she’d never, ever known anyone, really, so why would she be different? for the first couple years or so of knowing selina, holly was a holy terror to her — which was only rational for a little girl who didn’t know her at all, who had never had parents, who had only ever been cooed over and shuffled around between grownups.

by the time she’s around 12, holly’s already survived enough trauma to fill several lifetimes thrice her own. she’s got a form of ptsd so complex it’s mutated into a new genome. her adhd is erratic and scattered and viciously forgetful — she leaves books in school and the catwoman breaks in just to get textbooks from her locker. they get batburger after and she promises next time she won’t forget. she forgets two days later.

holly is patient with selina in a way words cannot convey because she has seen people be impatient with selina. she’s watched people forced her to wrench words from her throat when she couldn’t manage to speak. she’s seen her beaten within inches of her life for the simple sin often of opening her own mouth (and holly knows every time she doesn’t mean to). she’s seen her ridiculed for a silent distance selina often could not help, and she’s seen times when selina was too young and too shutdown to so much as wince in reply. holly is kind to selina even when it seems improbable because she can’t bear to be any other way, not when she’s watched selina curl up tight and she’s coiled into her arms and listened to her whispering incomprehensibly. holly remembers expecting her to cry and being surprised when she never felt any wet, warm salt trickle down her cheek. when she looked up, she just remembers that half-lidded look on her mom’s face, staring, constantly exhausted. selina had only been fifteen. she wouldn’t be able to cry for another handful of years.

selina makes holly feel safe. but the reverse is also extremely true.

[ahsterism]

truly i think leon kennedy’s one condition when being forced to join the military ( you know. aside from his life and sherry’s safety ) was that he gets to keep his hair long and bleach blonde. he had to be hot it’s literally all he had left.

[endawn]

no no but it is the doomed by the narrative. doomed from the start. pax’s inclusion as the starks stalwart protector changing nothing in the end. in the end, he’s still human. he’s fallible.

[wintersghst-a2]

once again making bad decisions

[varnaedhar]

@caeloservare: //I'm still feeling brave and agressive! Catch these hands! (((ง’ω’)و三 ง’ω’)ڡ≡ ♥

Missa, my beloved! I adore your Raven and I'm super excited to write with her each time. I love the tension she creates around her with her such a strong personality. I really like how she has softer sides to her prickly outer layers, but she wraps them in so much spikes so no one will know she has "weaknesses". She's tough and it shows. She's also fun banter! I mean it that queueing reply for her deals mental dmg points, because I want so badly to post right away, so I could wait to read her response not for my queue to run aksjdjdjd xD Anyhow, hi, love you, love your Raven, please keep delivering all these juicy various flavours of tension with her <3

HERAMI, I AM ON MY WAY TO BED, YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME. I love you so much, you're an insane sweetheart and I really did need this so thank you. ;; Raven is probably the muse I get the most anxiety about writing because I know my take isn't entirely canon but she's really important to me, so thank you. ;;;;;;

unprompted affection how dare you

[chaoslulled]

tag drop 003.

[flintstruck]

tag drop 001.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ i’ll raise you like a phoenix.  ╱  ooc.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ the scent of sweat‚ jaws at my throat.  ╱  desires.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ a better knife than you are a person.  ╱  ic.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝   ╱  threads.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ made into a weapon and told to find peace.  ╱​  musings.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ honey and wildfire are both the colour gold.  ╱  aesthetics.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝  you’re gonna carry that weight.  ╱  insight & mannerisms.

✧ ⥼ ㅤ— ㅤ❝ i'm sorry. i'm sorry. this may be me at my best.  ╱​  about.

✧ ⥼ ㅤ— ㅤ❝ i can carry it well. it remains heavy.  ╱​  v.001 ; warrior of light.

✧ ⥼ ㅤ— ㅤ❝   ╱​  visage.

[forgotten-retrouvaille]

ship tag dropping because it's high time i made one

will be updated when new ships are plotted/made

[clawsextended]

selina doesn’t trust the government because when gotham was occupied by bane they literally declared it under martial law and ACTIVELY policed people trying to escape. legitimately the whole fucking government said ‘oh a warlord is making one of our country’s biggest economies into a martial state but uhhhhh this looks messy we can’t handle this cut it off’. like. the entire government went ‘those people are gonna die when the bomb goes off. sucks to be you.’

so honestly her reasons for not wanting to be involved whatsoever with legal anything are bigger than just her being a huge criminal. she has seen firsthand how fucking untrustworthy and corrupt it is, and she is skeptical in every way whenever any kind of governmental conversation comes into play. she thinks that the political system is a lie and she would trust a nine year old with sharpened pink poison-dipped scissors before trusting a cop. once upon a time the entire government literally said ‘nah everyone can die’…. and threw selina into a prison immediately within the occupied state. it was just a chance to put catwoman away and get rid of a MASSIVE thorn in their side, especially if she died.

so when selina says she hates the government, she doesn’t fucking trust them, it’s because they chose to condemn her to a death she turned around and saved them from.

[ahsterism]

i can't resist the allure of pathetic video game men it's true

[sapphiredhearts-a]

new tags ( twilight / tmi )

[krayat]

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ author. ❫ ››› ㅤ we are bees then﹐ our honey is language .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ promotion. ❫ ››› ㅤ come﹐ little bees﹐ the flowers have your breakfast ready .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ announcement. ❫ ››› ㅤ we must dissent from apathy﹐ we must dissent from the fear .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ prompt. ❫ ››› ㅤ doves and pigeons can also be trained to send messages .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ anonymous. ❫ ››› ㅤ who is this stranger﹐ who comes in the darkness ?

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ continuum. ❫ ››› ㅤ time doesn’t erase the demons we don’t see .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ euphuism. ❫ㅤ ››› ㅤi am make - believe. this is an archive. it hurts to be a story .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ episteme. ❫ㅤ ››› ㅤanger travels through me﹐ pushes aside everything else in my heart .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ visuals. ❫ㅤ ››› ㅤburial by fire is the last mercy: decay is for the living .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ imagery. ❫ㅤ ››› ㅤi build a life and i tear it apart﹐ and the sun keeps shining .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ thesis. ❫ㅤ ››› ㅤwho am i when i feel ? what dies in me when i am me ?

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ theory. ❫ㅤ ››› ㅤbut would you know yourself if you weren’t burning .

* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ behavior. ❫ㅤ ››› ㅤthey made you a weapon and told you to find peace .

[shadesoflsk]

YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has. 

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is. 

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon. 

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man. 

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better. 

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature. 

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it. 

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon. 

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging. 

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him. 

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience. 

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air. 

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew. 

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having. 

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence. 

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy. 

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye. 

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings. 

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret. 

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk. 

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you. 

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up. 

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?” 

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time. 

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

     ⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish. 

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date. 

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror. 

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations. 

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do. 

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario. 

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope. 

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret. 

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret. 

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself. 

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry. 

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle. 

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you. 

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep. 

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose. 

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter. 

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur. 

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you. 

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior. 

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this. 

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it. 

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world. 

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess. 

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now? 

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you. 

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have. 

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted. 

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession. 

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

[k9wa]

⟁ SANGUINE. ft ARGENTI.

⠀ — “but should you allow me, i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a vampire is struck with love at first sight for the human sent to pierce his heart.

⚠︎ vampire!argent & vampire hunter!reader, gn reader, mentions of blood, consuming blood, death, weapons, all that vampire-y stuff, suggestive content, a little sweetness, some gore, so much flirting, argenti is a lil bit of a freak, your freak tho, i love doomed couples, wc 3.2k, from this req.

it’d been weeks now— weeks of terror and bloodshed in a small, humble village to the east. 

a monster, people cried, praying and pleading for someone— anyone to bring justice to their befallen family and friends, their neighbours and colleagues taken and drained of life in the night. you, well-versed and experienced with this ever repeating scenario, were finally sought out as a last ditch and oh so desperate attempt at restoring peace and safety to a once joyful town; told of a red beast who lures prey in with his charm and sinks his teeth into anything deemed beautiful.

vampires were messy hunters, whether they attempted cleanliness or not. it wasn’t an impossible job to follow a few faint traces— blood specks, pieces of fabric, etc— to a mossied, cobblestone path. the muffled clack of your boots against the rock was the only sound for miles in the silent, secluded forest. finally, your search proved somewhat fruitful upon finding a wall of thick, overgrown rose bushes.

pushing past the thorny wall— clearly designed to keep trespassers such as yourself out— revealed a sight nothing short of breathtaking; an old castle-esque manor in the centre of all the red flowers and shrubbery. 

this was where it lived, you had no doubt in your head as you kept forward.

a solution on how to breach the eerie yet beautiful building was but a fleeting thought, your fingers tightening around the hold of a dagger in your palm as the door easily opened with a mere, gentle push.

(years of hunting the wretched creatures left you hearing nearly hundreds of idiotic vampire weaknesses and immunities— the silver in your weapons and a clean shot to the heart was all you’d ever needed.)

as the aged, ornate door creaked open with the whispers of the forest's night, argenti caught the faintest sense (or rather scent) of an intruder; a fragrance and feeling that strongly pulled him to his staircase to further investigate. this smell promised beauty, he could not resist his own curiosity as his lips still glistened crimson.

“ah,” the vampire ran his fingers along the old hand railing with an almost dreamy sigh. “what curious little lamb graces my abode tonight?” he crooned, locking eyes with the figure that’d just stepped into his foyer. 

the sight of you would have taken argenti's breath away, had he had any to steal. your eyes in the moonlight, the faint glisten of your skin, the shine of your hair— you were no ordinary nor foolish trespasser— you warranted his undivided attention.

he was across the room in one swift step, tucking his now red sullied handkerchief into one of his pockets. an amused smile danced on his lips as he took in your cautious stance, the weapon ready to strike.

“you,” argenti leaned forward, lips tugging up further. “must be the hunter sent to end my nocturnal escapades.” he mused, verdant eyes locked onto your form like prey. you instinctively took a step back, keeping a safe distance that argenti was already yearning to bridge.

“keen observation.” you responded with a twinge of sarcasm that the vampire audibly giggled at.

“what are you called?” he asked, beginning to pace a slow circle around you.

“my name is unimportant.”

“it must be a crime for beauty such as yours to go unnamed or unpraised, hunter.”

the compliment didn’t go over your head, nor did the fact that this was the prettiest vampire— prettiest being, actually, that you had ever seen. however, he was still your target, regardless of the way his words made your chest warm.

“i'm afraid we won’t have time for all that, vampire.”

argenti's eyes flashed with both amusement and anticipation as you rebuffed his advances, hues of green gleaming as you twirled your dagger and made your first attack.

his supernatural reflexes sprang into action, evading your small blade with a swift sidestep and a cut to his red, velvet overcoat just above his heart. the thrill of the hunt, the game of predator and prey with the lines so delightfully blurred, coursed through him.

“such haste,” he chided, tsking softly as he caught your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. “would you not rather savour the moment, mon chasseur?” 

argenti's focus trailed down the bridge of your nose, the curve and swell of your lips, rounded edges of your jaw, acknowledging with a faint hum the beauty of bravery etched into your features. 

“i've never been one for sentimentality,” you responded calmly, letting the weapon in your caught hand drop to the floor with an unheard clang. “you’ll have to forgive me.”

the dance continued, your now open hand shifting in his hold to grab his fingers and spin him around. even as you reached for your weapon on your other thigh, argenti laughed— a rich and sweet sound that echoed through the manor. he admired your pragmatism, even while relishing in the thrilling two-step you engaged in.

as you switched the position with a practised ease, argenti felt the air shift behind him with another stab aimed for the left of his back. a lean to the right and another turn around left your other wrist in his hold, evading you a second time.

“brava, ma chérie,” the vampire praised, his voice dripping with admiration and affection alongside challenge. he gave your wrists a firmer squeeze, a subtle yet clear reminder of the strength that lurked beneath his aristocratic facade. “but don’t be fooled,” argenti leaned dangerously forward, breath a cool whisper against your skin, fangs grazing the skin of your neck just under your ear. “i'm not so easily felled.”

the feeling of teeth so close to your nape had your foot raising and kicking him away with an almost panicked reflex, argenti stumbling back at the force.

“i've never met a vampire quite as talkative as you.” you said while adjusting the hold of your knife. your voice was laced with a clear frustration yet also something argenti recognized to be intrigue.

“perhaps you’ve never met one as enamoured with his prey as i,” he retorted, finding your irritation just as delightful as you. 

“talk is the prelude to understanding, my dear,” argenti hummed while straightening his jacket, adjusting the frills of his white sleeves underneath it. “and i find myself just dying to know you.”

it was argenti’s turn to advance for you, aiming to disarm you of that pesky silver in your palm and leave you perfectly vulnerable. though, in an act of hypocrisy, his haste left him making a predictable reach.

“i encourage you to take your own advice,” you quipped, slipping away from the swift grab with an agility honed purely from experience. the angle left you able to kick his ankle from underneath him and shove him down to his back, landing atop him with your knife pointed down at his adam's apple.

“it’s always important to keep a clear head, wouldn’t you agree?”

argenti's heart, though long stilled by death, thrummed with a refreshing and delectable kind of excitement as he found himself pinned beneath you. he could not help but fall deeper into his affections as he lay beneath the cool kiss of your blade at his throat.

“a clear head,” he echoed softly. “one mustn't let desire cloud one's judgement.” he chuckled. “but then again, where is the thrill in restraint?”

you had not yet dealt your deciding finisher, opting to stay still atop him, the only movement being the faux rise and fall of argenti’s chest. a purely reflexive motion that mocked your owns authenticity.

“tell me, hunter,” he continued, voice tinged with a playful edge. “does this proximity disquiet you? or does it intrigue?”

your response was a quick, defensive one— more abrupt than you’d hoped in an attempt to mask the very intrigue he’d so easily sniffed out.

“you flatter yourself too much.” you resisted a scoff. “perhaps i'll just cut your throat to shut you up.”

argenti's lips curled in a sickly smile. 

“you are beautiful.” he praised with a dramatic flourish in his voice. “in all my years, i have seen countless dawns and dusks– but none have displayed the beauty you have captivated me with.”

your steady hold on your weapon earnestly wavered, the moment suspending you both in a tense yet not particularly uncomfortable stare. perhaps charged was a more befitting term.

what was with this guy…?

“trying to save your own skin now?”

argenti chuckled.

“it is no charade, i assure you.” the vampire’s eyes didn’t leave yours for even a moment– the eliminated need to blink rather helpful in maintaining the contact. “your beauty is not something i would invoke so lightly.”

each word argenti spoke was a measured step, a delicate dance toward an understanding or perhaps even a truce– now it was simply a matter of waiting to see if the olive branch he extended was taken. 

“...you’re quite the odd one.” your brows lightly unfurrowed, and argenti keenly watched as you slowly began to relax. 

“what is your name?” you inquired. “so i may remember the beast who so strongly defied my expectations.”

“beast?” argenti echoed, chuckling yet again. “you wound me with such a word.”

though your inquiry, softly spoken, was an unexpected gift– a thread of curiosity argenti was all too eager to grab hold of.

“i am argenti.” he pronounced his name with a sense of pride. “and you, hunter?”

your name was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, lodging itself snuggly in his amygdala. in the momentary vulnerability of the shared moment, argenti was not only blessed with your name but the slight relaxing of your shoulders– blade no longer so firm to his neck. with a seamless grace that centuries of existence had honed, he acted, seizing the fleeting opportunity your brief lapse provided.

in one swift, fluid motion, argenti reversed your positions with a blur of finesse. now it was you who lay beneath him, the cold silver weapon no longer his threat nor your protector as it clambered to the floor beside you. your hands pinned above your head left you unable to reach for it back.

argenti echoed your name with a dreamy sigh, savouring the syllables like a whispered incantation. “a name unique as the one who bears it.”

though you didn’t…struggle. you hadn’t even pushed against his hold the smallest bit. argenti could feel the subtle change, the gentle yielding of your guard as you remained still beneath him. it was an invitation as silent as the moonlit shadows that played across your features.

he tentatively leaned down, fangs grazing the tender skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, a mere whisper away from puncturing the flesh that pulsed with the sweetness he craved.

your proximity was so utterly intoxicating, heady with your scent– a mix of steel resolve and something more primal, more human. yet he did not bite down.

“you are a rare gem, my dear,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing softly against it in a kiss that belied his monstrous nature. “i find myself reluctant to mar such perfection.”

his breath caressed you as he spoke, lips tracing a path up to the shell of your ear.

“but should you allow me,” he whispered. “i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

he was much too overwhelming, each of your senses buzzed with the sound or touch or simple presence of him. you swallowed thickly in a poor attempt to maintain your composure, to at least save some face and act like your body wasn’t slowly burning up.

“you’ve…” your voice still wavered– once more, a poor attempt. “you’ve been kind.” your eyes remained fixed on the large chandelier hung above you, candles still somehow burning. 

“i suppose i wouldn't mind granting you the indulgence, argenti.”

the corners of the vampire’s mouth curved up at your quiet concession, the light tilt of your head a telling permission. your acquiescence was a gift, one he intended to honour with the reverence it deserved.

“your generosity will not go unappreciated.”

his lips returned to the tender skin of your neck, voice a soothing balm to your ear as he positioned his teeth with deliberate care. the sensation of your pulse, strong and rhythmic beneath the surface, was an alluring melody to his already heightened senses.

he allowed himself a moment of restraint, of savouring the precipice upon which you both teetered, before his fangs gently– oh so very gently– pierced your flesh.

the initial penetration was a careful caress; one that made your head swirl with its settling sting, though still tender as a lover’s tentative exploration rather than the savage bite of a beast as you’d so called him.

the taste of you was nothing less than exquisite, a rush of vitality that flooded every conscious part of him. he drank deeply, small gulps quiet in your ear, yet remained instinctually aware of the preciousness of the gift you’d bestowed him.

his free hand, the one not pinning your wrists, trailed down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing sweetly against your skin in an intimate gesture meant to comfort, to connect, to say without words that you were revered even in your vulnerability.

your heart fluttered and palpated in your chest, both with the penetrating susceptibility of argenti holding you as if you were treasured glass and the blood being slowly drained from your veins. your hands, allowed free from their position above you, moved down to carefully cradle the vampire’s head against you, the touch enough to tug at the remnants of argenti’s humanity. it was almost enough to make you forget why you were there in the first place, how you’d gotten yourself into this embrace. your purpose.

keyword, almost.

argenti’s world, meanwhile, narrowed to the euphoric connection between you as he fed, your warmth wrapping tightly around the immortal’s soul and lulling him into a serene complacency. the very serenity that would mask an impending betrayal.

he was too absorbed to feel the deadly, slow movement of your hand to your right, picking your weapon up with the stealth of a seasoned predator. then, in a hunter’s final ploy, you gripped the handle and pushed the silver up through his chest– past his flesh, his ribs, and precisely through his heart.

the sharp pain immediately tore through him, feeling the muscle that had ceased to beat for so long be so violently yet so cleanly tore through. argenti gasped against your neck, a shock of realisation and honest hurt settling in with the physical burn in his skin. the agony sent tremors through his body, a sensation so foreign and so acute it tore a ragged groan from his throat. he reeled from the visceral surprise, his feeding cut short as the born instinct of survival kicked in.

with great effort he lifted his gaze to meet yours, trying so desperately to speak– whether a scathing retort or a final compliment, anything would do. but the attempt was only a muddled whisper, stuck in his throat with his agony.

he used the last of his strength to roll off of you, but you held firm on your blade and rolled with him, pushing deeper at the newfound leverage.

though, to your begrudging admittance, it was…unsatisfactory. even as your head swirled with your own miniscule puncture wound and sudden anaemia, the lingering thrill of being entwined with such a bewitching creature in your bones, the dripping of your own blood down your skin as you succeeded in your kill–  it left you with no feeling of accomplishment or even at the very least quelled by the death of another vampire.

you felt bad. terrible, even. watching the life ebb from argenti was no longer worth the bounty or keeping of your profession or even justice for the ones he’d killed.

argenti’s heavy breaths matched your own, a final weak rasp of your name leaving his lips. his hand reached up, not with malice but with a gentle beseeching, pale fingers brushing against your cheek, smearing a trail of his blood– a final, poignant connection.

and even in death he looked so stunning to you, as did you to him– even as one of your hands remained steadfast around the silver in his heart.

your free hand covered his, helping hold it against your cheek with a slight clutch around his fingers.

“i think you’re beautiful, too.” you admitted, keeping your voice as quiet as possible so as to not cause him anymore pain or discomfort, “the most beautiful i’ve ever seen.”

the vampire’s eyes, clouded with pain, softened at your confession. the irony of your situation was not lost on him, an immortal succumbing to such a mortal wound at the hands of a creature equally captivating as they were lethal.

“you have bestowed upon me…an exquisite end,” argenti murmured, his voice a mere wisp of sound. “to be seen…truly seen by you, to behold s-such beauty in return…” his hand trembled against your skin, the strength of his once mighty grasp fading like the last glimmers of twilight. his green eyes, still holding yours with the intensity of a man both defeated and enthralled, conveyed a wealth of emotions you’d never get to hear.

“there is no greater finale.”

you held his hand tighter. you wanted him to be comfortable– against every instinct carved into your bones you did not want him to suffer more than you had made him.

“i’ll always remember you, argenti.” your voice was a cool salve to his wounded– literally wounded– heart. “i swear it.”

a ghost of a smile graced his pallid lips, your words weaving through the growing darkness around him.

“that,” argenti breathed quietly, the sound laboured and pained. “is a thought more gratifying than eternity.”

“meet me again,” you said quickly. “under better circumstances next time. you must.”

the thought of not being pitted against each other from the start, the muddied roles of prey and predator or species not interfering in your lives, was just the comfort he needed to nod and close his eyes.

“i will, then.” he felt the touch of your lips to his forehead as his body crumbled to a grey ash, a silent farewell. the moment was paradoxical, held tenderness amidst the dark reality of your short time together. too short, you thought. far too short.

soon enough you're left alone, with two palm fulls of dust in the quiet grandeur of the manor, heart heavy with the mix of feelings you had not nearly anticipated uncovering in what was supposed to be a simple job. hats off to you, for walking into the lion's den only to leave mourning its taming.

you pull the small vial of holy water from your neck, dumping the contents out to your left and refilling it with what remained of the vampire who’d so quickly etched himself into your heart. you stood slowly, mindful of your pounding head as you fastened the vial back around your neck and slowly took your leave. sitting around much longer in your unexpected grief felt too eerie, though the few scratches to your skin on your way back through the walls of thorned roses would leave a lingering reminder of how you felt in the current moment. under better circumstances, you repeated in your head for the journey home. someday distant, under better circumstances.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?