#We're all human here so please treat others the way you wanted to be treated. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mandalhoerian · 3 months ago

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sacrosanct | leon kennedy x reader | 2

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pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Leon, a paladin of the temple who became a disillusioned oathbreaker, returns from years of war with a noble title and shattered faith. Once devoted to the Saintess who healed him, Leon's admiration has twisted into repressed desire—feelings he could never express, tainted by guilt and shame. Now a celebrated hero, he’s drawn back not to the kingdom’s praises, but to the chance of one last glimpse of you to move on with his life.

The god he abandoned has other plans for him.

word count: 13K

warnings: none. leon being embarrassing is all... you'll see

disclaimer: Leon has some backwards thinking about "providing and protecting" during the end of the fic. Please keep in mind there's two reasons as to why that is:

1) this is a historical fiction no matter how fantastical it is, so conservative values very much exist

2) it actually isn't gender-based. leon is very much okay with the reader doing whatever she wants. he just has a worshipper mentality when it comes to the reader and sees the real world beneath her, so to speak? he basically has her on a pedestal that nobody is allowed to take her down from. she's god's favorite princess and he wants to treat her as such and her serving others is grating on his nerves (they don't deserve it AND she deserves better is the theme here)

3) get your whimsy on and just enjoy being worshipped damn

note: i meant this as a two-shot but . alas, we're here. i swear the next one is the final one. I SWEAR

🌀 READ ON AO3 !

The sound of scrubbing fills the busy kitchen, a rhythmic rasp of bristles against copper. The bucket of soapy water at your side ripples with each jerking movement of your hand, and the cloth slips again, plunging your fingers into the cold water. You wince, pulling back, hands trembling as they fumble over the simple task of cleaning the tarnished pot.

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips. This should be easy—anyone could scrub a pot, right? Any maid worth her salt would handle this without even thinking. But here you are, elbows deep in water, raw fingers rubbing awkwardly at the stubborn stains, trying to remember how much pressure to apply without ruining the metal. It’s a dance you haven’t quite learned yet, despite the amount of practice in the Redfield household.

The weight of the chore feels unnatural in your hands. Once, they were only meant to offer blessings, outstretched for others to kiss, the soft skin never meant for labor. Now, every slip, every misstep, reminds you of how far you’ve fallen. The holy aura that once clung to you like a second skin feels stripped away, leaving you bare, vulnerable—human in the most unflattering way.

Another sigh, heavier this time, as you scrub harder, muscles protesting. Your fingers ache, the bristles biting into your palms, and you fight the urge to just let the cloth drop. The world wasn’t supposed to feel so gritty, so solid. The faint scent of soap mingles with the cool breeze wafting through the open kitchen window, but it does nothing to lift the fog that wraps around your thoughts.

"You're doing it wrong again."

The sharp correction snaps you out of your reverie, and you look up to see Sarah standing over you, hands on her hips. There’s no cruelty in her eyes, only impatience. She bends down, effortlessly taking the pot from your hands.

"See?" She shows you how to twist the rag in tight circles, moving the cloth firmly around the base. "It’s not about force; it’s about control."

Control. You were once the embodiment of control, the saintess who never faltered, who embodied grace in every breath. But here, in the kitchen, control slips through your fingers like water, and you struggle to even follow the motions.

"I see," you murmur, though the words feel hollow. You watch as Sarah finishes the task in a fraction of the time it took you, setting the gleaming pot down with a nod before bustling off to tend to something else.

Once alone again, you look down at your hands, wrinkled from the water, red and sore from the effort. The delicate touch that once administered blessings now feels clumsy, the softness worn away by the rigors of everyday tasks. Dirt clings beneath your nails, and though it frustrates you, there’s something grounding about it, something... real.

Ethelion’s grace never truly belonged to me, you think. I was only ever a vessel. And when that vessel cracks, the divine cannot stay.

Rising from your crouch, you stretch your aching back. Strange how heavy your body feels now, no longer ethereal, no longer buoyed by the sacred weight of divine purpose. Instead, you are bound by flesh and bone, muscles screaming at every chore.

The day stretches ahead, an endless rhythm of work. There are beds to be made, floors to be swept, linens to fold. Each task pulls you further away from the pedestal you once stood upon, but there’s a quiet solace in the routine, in the steady, simple motions. The other maids chat as they move through their own chores, but you remain mostly silent, your thoughts too tangled to join in.

By mid-afternoon, your feet lead you to the garden, the one place that offers a semblance of peace. The air is lighter here, the scent of lilacs and roses calming in a way that nothing else seems to be. Flowers bloom in delicate clusters, their petals soft against your fingertips as you run your hands through them absently.

"Careful now,” someone calls out. "You don’t want to bruise the petals."

You turn to see Piers, the young gardener, smiling at you as he wipes his hands on his apron. He’s always so gentle with the plants, his fingers coaxing them into life with the same patience he shows with you. There’s dirt smudged across his cheek, his hands stained with earth, but it suits him.

"I wasn’t trying to," you reply, embarrassed by your carelessness. Your touch once healed the wounded, and now you worry about crushing flowers.

"Didn’t say you were," he says, coming closer to kneel beside you. "Just reminding you. These flowers... they’re like people. Handle them too roughly, and they’ll wilt. Handle them too gently, and they’ll never bloom."

There is a meaning in there that makes your skin prickle, an awareness that you wish you could erase. He understands too much, has seen too much. Not many of the Redfield staff know your true identity—the noble family wishes to preserve their secrecy regarding you—but Piers knows. From the day you stepped through the estate gates, he knew.

The afternoon sun shines brightly as the two of you fall into the usual silence, the one you enjoy. As you work together, weeding and trimming the hedges. You try to copy his movements, but you feel clumsy beside him, fumbling over yourself with every touch. The lilies you looked after in the temple were plucked and placed in elegant vases, you only ever stood in their presence in the garden, as the monks cared for the vegetation in the sanctified grounds. The fact that you were chosen to stand for Ethelion, you didn’t touch anything—they touched you, and you felt like the flower, the angel of mercy, the beautiful goddess. The ones that surround you now call for more work to thrive, to grow. It seems that no matter how hard you try, your touch won’t be enough.

You reach to pick a weed and nearly knock over a rosebush, the thorns grazing your hand. The sting feels grounding, in a strange way, and for a moment, you linger in it, letting the pain settle into your skin. It doesn't immediately heal like any other wound used to.

"When will you teach me?" You blurt out, looking over at him. "How to properly help you?"

Piers chuckles softly, carefully correcting your posture with his hands until you get into position. "Soon, little lady. Soon, you'll be good at this, just as you are with everything you set your mind to."

Years after, you're still awkward and at a loss with touch. A lifetime of only coming to contact with fabric and porcelain will do that to you, and you think that he notices as such—the way you flinch at unexpected contact, the way you seem to carry that old elegance that never went away with you in all of your actions, even as you struggle with the physicalities of your new life.

To his credit, he doesn't question it, simply guides you patiently as if it's natural. If the rest of the staff finds it odd, they don't say a thing.

This is another world. A world very different from your life before. People of your standing hug and hold hands, brush against one another. When you first began your training, it felt overwhelming, like being engulfed by a current you didn't know how to fight. Now, it is like the sea itself, ever-present but constant.

"Firm grip," Piers says quietly, putting his own hands over yours to guide the motion as he weeds the soil around the small hedge bushes. "You need to have a light touch, but not too light or it won't be efficient."

You adjust your fingers accordingly, gripping the clump of earth and tugging. It comes loose without resistance, falling into your hand. A smile spreads across your face, your eyes brightening.

"Like this?"

"Yes, perfect," Piers says, nodding encouragingly. The corners of his lips quirk up in the barest hint of a grin. "And don't be afraid to get dirty. Mud is natural and good for the earth, helps the flowers flourish."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you find yourself wishing, for a moment, that life would remain like this. It isn’t comfortable—not in the way the temple had been, with its cushioned chairs and silken sheets, the robes so thick and warm they felt like velvet against your skin. But here, surrounded by flowers, with the wind ruffling through your hair, it feels...right.

Maybe that is why you found yourself returning to the gardens whenever the chance arose, whether it was after completing your daily chores or even on your days off, even if you were sure you wouldn’t learn anything from it. There was a comfort that came with the sun shining down on you as you pruned and picked at the roses, looking forward to the day when you would be knowledgeable enough to plant lilies on your own and care for them how they deserved.

The day passes in quiet rhythm after that, the routine of your tasks blending into the hum of the estate. There’s comfort in the dirt, in the steady, simple work of tending to life, of watching something grow. It’s not grand, it’s not divine, but it feels real, and for now, that’s enough.

As the sun dips below the horizon, you return to your small room in the servants’ quarters. The day’s dirt still clings to your skin, and as you sit at your modest mirror, you catch a glimpse of your reflection. You’re no longer the saintess, no longer the holy vessel. The person staring back at you is human, grounded in the earth just like the flowers you’ve come to care for.

The soft clink of porcelain and silverware fills the dining hall along with the the quiet hum of conversation between the Redfield family. You stand at the ready, your hands clasped before you, ever attentive to the needs of the table. The crystal carafe of wine glimmers faintly beside you, waiting to be lifted, though your thoughts are far from the task at hand.

"What happened after that?" Lady Claire leans forward, a sly smile on her lips as she gestures animatedly in a very unladylike manner. "You can’t just brush that under the rug! The hero of the kingdom storms into a coronation and attacks the Archbishop? I need details!"

Lord Chris waves his fork dismissively, his mouth full of roasted vegetables. He huffs out a breath, shaking his head as he reaches for his wineglass, "It wasn’t as dramatic as you’re making it sound. Just a bit of a misunderstanding, really."

Lady Claire laughs light and airy as she leans back in her seat. "A misunderstanding that resulted in the knight attacking an esteemed member of the Church of Ethelia? In public. How is that not dramatic?"

You glance toward Chris as you subtly refill his glass, the liquid swirling gently. His features are calm, but there’s a tension around his mouth that suggests he’s holding back more than he’s letting on. You pause, hoping to catch more of the conversation without drawing attention to yourself, your curiosity piqued.

The mental image of Leon doing something as bold as interrupting an event in the capital, let alone something as severe as accosting a highly-respected man of faith is... Unrealistic and highly out of character for him. It seemed too distant from the kind boy who would climb trees to bring down fruits just to make you smile.

The man clears his throat as he cuts into his steak, the knife slicing through the tender meat with ease. "It was more like a minor incident than an attack, honestly. No one was hurt, and the Archbishop has already moved past it."

"Why would he do such a thing?"

It's a great question. Leon wasn't known as someone who made reckless decisions like that—if anything, he was known for following his orders without hesitation, which was what made him an excellent paladin, regardless of what the rest of the clergy thought about him. You had even heard whispers among the priests about his loyalty, his dedication, how he was unfailingly loyal to the temple. He seemed like a steadfast soldier, reliable and sturdy, always steady on his feet no matter what trials Ethelion sent his way.

Lord Chris exhales slowly through his nose as his gaze falls upon his wife. There's a pause, the air heavy with unsaid words, before he responds. "Maybe something just snapped when he saw that Archbishop standing there, acting like everything’s fine after everything he’s seen and been through."

His response is blunt, the words like a punch to your gut. You try to swallow against the dryness in your throat, blinking back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill, biting the inside of your cheek.

An uncomfortable silence settles across the dinner table, broken only by Lady Claire's uneasy chuckle.

You exhale slowly, the sound barely audible, as you reach for the water pitcher. It isn’t until your hand trembles as it hovers over the delicate glass surface that you realize how tense your body is. The truth that he spoke, that slipped through you like poison in bloodstream—

Would Leon attack you the same way he did the Archbishop? The Saintess who sent him off into a war with a prayer and a blessing? Would you, too, end up with his fingers clutching at your clothes, teeth gritting together in a snarl, the words of accusation cutting into you as you stood frozen in place, unable to respond?

"Do you think he’s... dangerous?" Lady Claire asks, stripped off of all her playfulness. "Should we be worried?"

Lord Chris chuckles, though there’s a bitter edge to it. "No, Leon’s not dangerous. Not to us, anyway. He’s just... different. War changes people. It’s not something you can just walk away from without it leaving scars."

Your hands tighten around the stem of the pitcher, steadying your grip. The mention of the Holy War brings a hundred memories rushing back, as fresh as the day they were forged. They wash over you, filling your veins with a rush of sorrow and anger, regret and remorse—

You sent Leon there. Into the midst of that violence and hatred, where men became monsters. Where his blade tasted blood for the first time and changed him forever, like an animal weaned off of milk and discovering a taste for flesh. You did that to him. Did that to all of the righteous paladins and courageous soldiers who died in that field, whose bones now lie in unmarked graves.

Leon would be right to hate you. Ethelion himself should despise you, condemn you. It's why He has let go of you so early into your service.

You don't know why Lord Chris doesn't spit on your face. Why Lady Claire allows you to pour their drinks and serve their meals. How could you ever repent for what you have done to the paladins of this kingdom, their fellow noblemen of faith?

"Enough talk of battle at the dinner table," Dame Jill chides gently, a soothing balm amidst the tension. "We've spent too long dwelling in the dark. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"Right, right," Chris agrees, shaking his head with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

The moment between them is tender, so simple yet so intimate that you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding. The way Jill’s hand lingers on Chris’s arm, the way he leans into her touch without even realizing it—it’s a closeness you’ve only ever observed from a distance, a kind of bond you’ve never experienced. You’re not sure you ever will.

"Let's talk about more exciting things," Lady Claire picks up her enthusiasm once more, and as if she's read your mind, she says, "How long do you think is until his marriage to Princess Ashley?"

Chris chokes on his food. So would you if you were in his position.

Jill sighs, a thin smile on her lips as she shoots him a look. "That isn't a conversation we're meant to entertain."

"I don’t think Leon’s worried about marriage right now, Claire," Chris says, though with a hint of amusement. "He’s got enough on his plate without worrying about courting anyone."

"Still," Claire continues, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "I bet every noble lady in the capital is throwing themselves at him right now. A war hero, a noble Margrave, and still single? They’re probably lining up just to get a chance."

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at the thought. Is that really what’s happening? Is Leon being paraded in front of noble families, their daughters hoping to catch his eye, hoping to be the one he chooses? The idea leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, though you can’t quite place why.

Leon... a Margrave now, a hero of the kingdom, sitting at the top of nobility’s ladder, one step away from being at the king’s side. The image of him standing among lords and ladies, dressed in fine silk and polished armor, feels alien in your mind. You remember him in a different way—so much simpler, much... closer. A heavy feeling settles in your chest.

"Claire, please," Jill interrupts with a chuckle, light but firm. "Leave the poor man alone."

The conversation moves on, but you remain rooted in place, the weight of it all pressing down on you. You steal a glance at Jill and Chris, their easy smiles, their shared glances, and you can’t help but wonder if Leon will find someone like that. Someone who can stand by his side, someone who fits seamlessly into his new world.

Perhaps it's for the best, after the "holy cause" that left him with nothing but a medal of honor and an oathbreaker reputation, the life of a soldier, a faithful paladin cut off from divinity and glory. To have the blessing of Ethelion once again, as a lord, with a beautiful young woman to share the legacy—it's a picture that could only bring envy to anyone's heart.

The manor feels like a gilded cage.

Leon slumps back in his chair, the smooth leather creaking beneath the weight of his armorless body. Before him lies an endless spread of parchment on the grand oak desk in his office—documents stamped with wax seals, crests of various noble families, and inked signatures of men and women he couldn’t care less about.

The words blur together into a maddening jumble, formalities and regulations, reminders of his newfound role as Margrave, a title he’d never wanted but had earned through blood and grit on the battlefield. Now, instead of commanding soldiers, he commands... paper.

The clinking of metal rings from across the room as Dame Ingrid Hunnigan arranges a fresh stack of documents beside him, her presence calm and efficient as always. Her gaze flickers toward him, calculating, and Leon doesn’t miss the slight narrowing of her eyes as she notes the papers he has yet to sign. The steady tick of the ornate clock in the corner seems louder than it should.

"My Lord."

Leon looks up, blinking as though he’s surfacing from deep water. “Yes?”

“We’re behind schedule,” she says, ever pragmatic, her gaze flicking briefly to the mountain of paperwork before returning to meet his. “If we’re to have everything in order for your proposal to Princess Ashley, we’ll need to finalize these arrangements by the end of the week.”

Leon freezes, his quill hovering above the paper like a blade suspended in air, droplets of ink forming a dark blot on the parchment beneath. His heart thuds once, hard, against his ribs, and he feels a strange coldness spreading from his chest to his limbs. Proposal. Marriage. Princess Ashley.

It was the logical next step, wasn’t it? The hero of the war, the man who saved the princess, standing beside her as her husband, uniting the people with their fairy-tale ending.

But the thought of it feels like a noose tightening around his throat.

“I’m not marrying her.”

Hunnigan’s sharp intake of breath is almost imperceptible, but Leon catches it. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, but he can feel the shift in her—an unspoken surprise. "But—”

He places the quill down with a deliberate slowness, his fingers resting on the desk’s polished surface.

“I won’t marry her,” Leon interrupts, low but firm, as if saying it again will solidify his decision, make it real.

“Sir, I’m not certain you understand the implications. The court is already abuzz with speculation. The king’s council has all but planned the ceremony. If you—”

“No.” Leon’s tone sharpens, the edge of it cutting through the room. His jaw tightens, and he pushes back from the desk, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. The papers, the plans, the obligations—they all feel like chains, tethering him to a world he never wanted to belong to.

Hunnigan doesn’t flinch, though she tracks his every movement, assessing. “Then what will you do? The court demands an answer, and soon.”

“I don’t care about their impatience,” Leon cuts her off, harder than he intends. He runs a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair, his frustration mounting. “I’ve just returned from war. I’ve barely had time to breathe, and now they want me to walk down the aisle? It’s absurd.”

“You’re not just a soldier anymore,” Ingrid replies evenly. “You’re a noble now, Sir Leon. A Margrave. And with that title comes expectations. Marrying Princess Ashley solidifies your position. It ensures stability.”

Stability. It’s the word that grates against his skin like a thorn. Stability meant confinement. It meant being locked into a life that wasn’t his own, chained to a destiny he didn’t choose. Marrying into the royal family would make him something he never wanted to be.

From the temple to the palace. Still a pawn.

And worse, it would make him someone unrecognizable to himself.

When she only gets irritable silence in return, Hunnigan doubles down, "The people adore you. You saved Princess Ashley. A marriage between you two would unite the noble houses, secure your standing. It’s—"

"I don’t care." The words burst out of him, louder than intended, and the air between them seems to crackle with the tension of it. He meets her look, daring her to challenge him, to push him further into this corner he feels trapped in. "I’m not marrying her. I never promised that. I never wanted that."

"It’s not about what you want, my lord. It’s about what the kingdom needs. What the crown expects from you."

"The crown expects a puppet," Leon mutters, his voice dropping to an icy low. He rises from the chair, the sound of his boots heavy against the floor as he paces the room, his movements sharp, restless. "They dress me up in these fine clothes, give me a title, and expect me to smile and play my part in their little game. I didn’t fight a war to become this."

"You fought a war to protect the kingdom. And this is part of that protection," Hunnigan argues, "You’ve earned the people’s respect. The life of a hero comes with its responsibilities."

"Responsibilities." He almost laughs at that, though there’s nothing humorous about it. His hand drifts to the hilt of his sword—a relic from the battlefield that feels more like a part of him than the heavy mantle of nobility ever will. "You think I don’t know about responsibilities? I’ve seen men die under my command, Hunnigan. I’ve seen villages burn, innocent lives lost. That’s responsibility. This... this is just playing dress-up."

Hunnigan exhales softly, her face softening, just a little. "I understand. I do. But we live in a world where appearances matter just as much as actions. The people need their hero. And they need their princess to stand beside him."

“I’m not going to chain myself to a life I don’t want. I’ve fought for this kingdom, bled for it, nearly died for it. But I’m done letting other people decide my fate.”

She sighs, crossing her arms as she studies him carefully. “And what do you plan to do? Walk away from the nobility entirely? Abandon your responsibilities now that you’ve earned the title?”

Leon meets her gaze, his eyes dark, stormy. “I’ll fulfill my duties as Margrave. But I’ll do it on my terms.”

There’s a long pause, the weight of his words hanging heavy between them. Ingrid’s expression softens, just slightly, but her professionalism remains unshaken. “You know this won’t be easy. The court won’t be happy with your decision. They’ll try to pressure you, manipulate you. You’ll be seen as defying tradition.”

“Let them,” Leon replies, pushing himself up from the chair, the tension in his muscles begging for release. “I’ve faced worse things than court gossip.”

Hunnigan watches him for a moment longer before nodding, though the concern doesn’t fade. “Very well. But if you’re going to make a decision like this, you should be prepared for the consequences.”

He nods, feeling a wave of exhaustion settle over him. “I am a walking consequence, Hunnigan."

She turns and leaves him to the silence of the room, her footsteps quiet against the stone floor. The moment she’s gone, Leon exhales deeply, his chest tight and his thoughts swirling in chaos. The paperwork remains unfinished on his desk, an ever-growing mountain of expectations and demands that suffocates him more with every passing minute.

He can’t stay here. Not now.

Grabbing his cloak, Leon moves toward the door, his steps quick and purposeful. Outside, the air feels thick, the walls of the manor closing in on him like a vice. He’s grown used to wide open spaces—the battlefield, the wilderness. Here, in the capital, everything feels too close, too crowded, too suffocating.

This is how you must have felt, he thinks bitterly as he pulls the hood of his cloak over his head, his mind drifting to you. Caged in, always watched, always expected to be something more than human.

The streets of the capital stretch before him, bustling with people going about their day—merchants haggling, children running through the alleys, noblewomen in fine dresses gliding down the cobblestone paths. Leon moves through them like a shadow, his presence hidden beneath the cloak, his face obscured from the watchful eyes of guards and passersby.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he’s alone.

He walks with no destination in mind, his boots scuffing against the uneven stones, his thoughts swirling with frustration and longing. The scent of fresh bread drifts through the air from a nearby bakery, mingling with the earthy scent of rain-soaked stone, but none of it grounds him. It only reminds him of the distance between the world he’s in and the world he longs for—the simple, the honest, the free.

His steps carry him further into the city until he reaches the cathedral gates, and he stops, gazing up at the towering spires and stained glass windows. A shudder of recognition courses through his spine as he recalls the last time he was here, the day he knelt at your feet and promised loyalty.

Ethelion may have forsaken him, but this place still calls to him in some strange, primal way—a piece of his past, a connection to his lost faith.

People file in and out of the massive wooden doors, their voices raised in a joyful hum. There is an energy to the crowd that he hadn't noticed before, a buoyant air that sweeps through the throng of worshippers like a tide. Curious, he follows the flow, stepping aside to allow the others to enter as he peers in, watching the mass from the outskirts. The chapel is packed to its gilded seams, everyone cramming into every available space. Every seat is occupied; even the pews on the second story are crammed with devotees, necks straining to catch a glimpse of the spectacle below.

Being on the outside looking in is...strange for him, all his life, he'd been on the inside. An honorary knight, a devoted acolyte, then, a holy warrior tasked with bringing peace back to the world. Now he's on the other side, on the edges. Alone. He should have been in the crowd, standing just beside the Saintess, having a place in line with her.

Now, he's one of the many faces in the crowd. One of the people he had protected with his sword.

At the pulpit stands a new Saintess, clad in shimmering robes of purest white, her mask alight with a silvery glow. The feeling of uncanny valley crawls through him, like the sight is wrong somehow. The figure before him looks the same, the attire, the veil, and even the ethereal glow. However, everything feels off. Where you had held yourself tall and steady with a presence that demanded attention, the current Saintess seems shy, her movements small and uncertain as she addresses the crowd.

Leon's frown deepens as he listens to the girl speak, sweet and lilting, but lacking in the conviction he remembers from your sermons. There's no passion in it, no fervor or fire. Just rote memorization, a pretty puppet reciting lines written by others.

It's not supposed to be like this. He doesn't get the Saintess Cycle, or whatever bullshit it's called that he was informed about right after his outburst.

He had never heard of it before that day. Not even when he’d been sworn in as a paladin. Not when he had stood at your side, thinking you were eternal, untouchable.

The letter sent by the Temple said the Saintess is a vessel—a temporary, ephemeral thing. When she reaches the end of her "cycle," she is retired, replaced by a new, younger girl blessed by Ethelion. It is the way of the divine, they wrote. It’s natural. It’s necessary.

Necessary. The word is poison, burning through him.

The cycle they speak of is cruel, cold. He remembers it again: Once the Saintess matures, her divine grace wanes, and Ethelion selects a new girl, free from worldly knowledge, pure in body and mind.

Pure. That’s what they had valued about you. Not your kindness, not your wisdom, not the way your smile had once lit up entire rooms. Just purity. What do they even mean by that word?

So that’s it then, he thinks bitterly. They’ve stripped you of everything. Reduced you to some… some tool to be replaced when your usefulness runs out.

He can't accept this. He refuses to.

This “cycle” they speak of is nothing but a lie—a grotesque farce designed to keep the chosen girls under their thumb, to strip them of their humanity, their will so they are easier to control, more obedient, self-sacrificing. They want to act as though it’s all part of some divine plan, but Leon knows better. He’s seen the temple’s machinations, the politics woven into their robes, the way they turn divine grace into something transactional.

You were never just a vessel, he tells himself, his jaw tight. You were never just a role to be filled.

He had sworn an oath to protect you, to serve you, and yet, when you needed him most, he had been gone—fighting in wars, chasing glory on blood-soaked battlefields while they took everything from you.

Leon steps back, ready to turn away from the chapel that now feels hollow, stripped of the sanctity it once held, when something catches him—sharp, like the sudden crack of a whip in the still air.

A scent.

It slips through the incense and the stale breath of prayer, weaving between the worshippers like a thread of memory pulled taut. Faint, almost hidden beneath the smoke and ash of the sacred space, but unmistakable. It strikes him like a blade, cutting through the fog of disbelief clouding his mind.

Lilies.

Among the scentless masses, with their simple soaps and the cloying odor of frankincense that clings to the walls—the smell of lilies.

His pulse stutters, a beat skipped in time, before surging back with a violent, thunderous force that shakes him to his core.

It’s your scent.

His breath halts in his throat, suspended, as the world tilts, shifting on its axis as his focus narrows. Someone brushes past him, draped in a nondescript cloak, their head bowed like the rest, just another figure blending into the sea of worshippers.

But his soul screams.

He knows it’s you.

The recognition strikes him so hard he reels with it, body twisting as he turns sharply, every muscle tensing with a frantic energy he can’t control. His eyes dart around, searching, desperate. His heart is slamming against his ribs, each beat like a drum echoing in a cathedral. The scent lingers, tantalizingly close—so close he can taste it, feel it—but the figure is slipping away, vanishing into the faceless crowd, swallowed whole by the masses.

"Wait!" The word rips from his throat, harsh, strangled, louder than intended. Heads turn, whispers hiss, but they are meaningless sounds in a world reduced to the scent of lilies and the figure that’s slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Wait, please!" His yell cracks, raw, frantic. He pushes through the crowd, bodies jostling against him, every step a growing surge of panic that claws at his chest.

The scent fades, thinning like smoke dissipating in the wind, until it’s gone.

Gone.

Leon stumbles to a stop, breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling in time with the wild thrum of his heartbeat. His hands shake, fingers curled into fists at his sides as if he could grasp hold of the memory, keep it alive through sheer will.

But you’re gone.

The world around him fades to a dull hum, the whispers of disapproving worshippers like gnats buzzing in the distance. His vision blurs at the edges, narrowing, tunneling, until all he can see is the space you once occupied. His chest constricts, tightens, the weight of everything—of this moment, of the years lost, of you—crashing down on him with the force of a wave that threatens to drag him under.

No, you’re here.

The thought is dizzying, overwhelming in its certainty. You’re here, in the capital, breathing the same air as him, walking the same streets. The realization hits him like cold water, shocking him awake, filling his lungs with something raw and desperate. His mind spins, thoughts unspooling in a frantic mess he can’t make sense of.

Leon strides into the office, his boots thudding against the polished floor, the sound bouncing off the high, vaulted ceiling. The door swings shut behind him with a muted thud, the energy of his entrance reverberating through the quiet space. Hunnigan barely looks up from her desk, the rustle of paper and the scratching of her quill the only acknowledgment of his presence. The scent of ink, parchment, and faint traces of cedarwood drift through the air—but unable to overpower the lilies at the back of his throat, like a ghost in the chamber.

Without preamble, he blurts out, "Where does one buy lily soap in the capital?"

Hunnigan’s quill freezes mid-stroke, her brows knitting together as she raises her head, her gaze flicking up to meet his with an expression of mild annoyance. Her office is meticulously arranged, papers stacked neatly in front of her, the ink pot perfectly centered on the desk. Leon's sudden intrusion seems to upset the delicate balance of the room.

"My lord?" Her voice carries that familiar undercurrent of impatience, but Leon can see the confusion etched into her features. "Lily soap?"

“Yes," he snaps, pacing before her desk, his movements restless, unsettled. "Soap scented like lilies."

Hunnigan’s stare is blank, clearly trying to piece together the urgency behind his question. She places her quill down carefully, folds her hands in front of her, and straightens her back, as if preparing for some bureaucratic debate.

"I'm afraid I don't—"

In an instant, Leon slams both hands against her desk, rattling the ink pot and causing a cascade of parchment to shift slightly out of place. The sharp bang echoes through the room, and for a second, there is silence, broken only by the rapid rise and fall of Leon's breath. A few sheets of paper flutter down from the pile, but he barely notices.

"Lilies, Hunnigan," Leon grits out, leaning forward, his eyes flashing with a desperation that feels foreign even to him. “Where do they sell lily soap? I need to know, now.”

To her credit, Hunnigan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t so much as blink at his intensity. The edges of her lips tighten, but she meets his frustration with her usual unflinching calm, tilting her head slightly, watching him with that sharp calculation, as if measuring the weight of his demand against her need for propriety. "Lord Leon, it will require time, but if you would like, we will investigate the sources. Such things aren’t kept on record like weapons or grain."

Leon drops into the chair opposite her with a heavy sigh, his hands pressing against his temples as if he can massage away the growing headache pulsing at his skull, but there's a part of him—the rational, disciplined soldier—that knows he can't barrel through this like an enemy barricade.

Hunnigan regards him thoughtfully, studying him as though she’s contemplating his sanity. Finally, she relents with a small nod. "However, at the top of my head, I can tell you that a fragrance like that would most likely be sold at shops that cater to the upper class. Apothecaries, perhaps, though I’ve heard of merchants who specialize in rare oils and soaps for wealthier clientele."

"But no," Leon says, frustration building, "that person... that soap can't have come from somewhere like that. It's too expensive. They're not wealthy, not someone who could afford those kinds of luxuries."

She taps a finger thoughtfully against the edge of her desk, not asking any questions, thankfully. "Commoner households purchase their necessities from street vendors. Most don't have the means to indulge in frivolities, but there are some apothecaries that sell fragrant items for medicinal purposes. Perhaps that’s where it came from."

Leon's mind races, his thoughts jumbling together, ticking off possibilities. He could search the market districts, scour the streets where vendors peddle their wares, but that would take time—too much time. And still, you could be anywhere, hiding among the crowds or nestled in some quiet corner of the capital. He drags a hand through his hair, the rigid set of his jaw flexing.

His thoughts swirl, trying to latch onto something, anything that will give him a lead. And then an idea begins to take shape, unformed at first, but gaining momentum the more he entertains it. He sits up, his eyes sharper, clearer. "Hypothetically, if we were to open a scented soap stall in the market, do you think people would buy it?"

Hunnigan’s brows raise, clearly not expecting the question. "The common folk aren’t exactly known for their fastidiousness when it comes to daily bathing, but soap has been increasing in popularity among the younger generations, particularly young women."

That catches his attention. The market is shifting, changing with the times. And you—you always appreciated those little luxuries, even when you were cloistered away, out of reach. You might not be living among the nobility, but that doesn't mean you wouldn’t still indulge in what small comforts you could.

Leon straightens, the hint of an idea forming. "Good," he murmurs, nodding more to himself than to her. "Then we’ll need to monopolize the market."

Hunnigan watches him with a raised brow, a subtle hint of disbelief in her gaze. "May I ask what exactly brought about this sudden interest in the soap trade? Surely you haven’t returned from the battlefield only to decide you’d like to dabble in perfumeries?"

Her tone is dry, but Leon can hear the underlying curiosity in her words. For a moment, he almost laughs at the absurdity of it all—a knight of the kingdom, scouring the city for lily-scented soap like a man possessed. But the laugh dies in his throat, replaced by the phantom scent of lilies, achingly familiar, almost painful in its clarity.

"I’m looking for someone," he admits, low, quiet, but no less determined. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly as if holding on to his last thread of hope. "And this... this is the only way I can think of to find them."

"Someone," Hunnigan repeats slowly, drawing out the word as if rolling it over her tongue, weighing its significance.

He nods, his jaw clenched.

Hunnigan stares at him for a long moment, and then, without another word, she picks up her quill and begins to write. The scratch of the pen fills the silence as she scribbles down his instructions with the precision and efficiency he’s come to expect from her.

Before she's about to me it to the end of the page, she glances up, the slight furrow of her brow the only indication of the questions that linger in the back of her mind. "Shall I send someone to retrieve these lily soaps for your sampling, or would you prefer to dispose of them immediately?"

"Neither. Send word to the streets that they can only find lily soap in our store in the entire kingdom. Offer them a special gift if they purchase it from us. I want it to reach everyone."

"The entire city, my lord? That will be quite the undertaking."

"If that's what it takes, yes."

She gives a single, decisive nod. "As you wish."

With that, she finishes writing his instruction, rolls up the scroll, and stands, carrying the parchment to the servant waiting outside the doors, whispering instructions to be taken to his household's estate.

He knows this isn’t exactly an ideal plan, that the odds of success are slim, but it's a chance, however small, and he clings to that like a lifeline. Besides, he hasn’t survived this many years on the battlefield, faced monsters and beasts and unspeakable horrors, to lose his nerve now in the face of a soap business.

He can't find you on his own. So, the next best thing is having you come to him.

You sit among the other maids, wooden spoon idly stirring the stew in your bowl, listening to the idle conversations around you. The dining hall of the servants' quarters is loud as usual, the chatter and laughter of the staff filling the room with warmth. A few seats down, Piers and Mark argue about the proper way to clean a fireplace, gesturing wildly with their spoons as they bicker good-naturedly. On the opposite end of the table, the new maid, Nina, sits with Rebecca, listening raptly to a story about Lord Redfield's exploits during a hunting trip.

There's a comfort to it—the familiarity, the routine. After spending years surrounded by the hushed, reverent air of the temple, the chaotic camaraderie of the kitchen staff is almost exhilarating. You sigh, reaching for your goblet as you lean back in your seat, content to listen to the various conversations surrounding you.

"Guess what? The Margrave isn’t marrying the Princess. How crazy is that?"

"Really? Why not," Mark interjects, equally bewildered. "Who wouldn't want to marry a princess?"

Piers shrugs, shoveling a large spoonful of stew into his mouth and continuing. "I guess he wants to be a bachelor."

"Over becoming king one day?"

"This is why you can't trust men to relay information," one of the maids, Angela, says, rolling her eyes. "He's already announced he's looking for a bride. They say he’s broken the hearts of more noble ladies than anyone can count. And the families! Furious, every last one."

A ripple of laughter spreads through the group, the maids delighting in the drama. The bread you’re holding crumbles between your fingers, but you barely notice.

“It's a scandal,” someone else chimes in. “The Princess was practically promised to him, wasn’t she? Now he’s insulted the royal family by turning her down. People should have expected it, he started wreaking havoc as soon as he got back to the capital. Who does he think he is?"

“He’s a war hero, that’s who. He could probably have any noblewoman in the kingdom if he wanted to. Though it seems like none of them are good enough for him.”

You push your bowl away, the food suddenly unappealing, staring down at your hands as if they hold the answers to the growing unease inside.

The Leon they speak of now—a man who breaks hearts, who defies royal expectations—is a stranger to you. But what bothers you more is the memory of him at the cathedral.

The way his eyes had darkened when he looked at the Saintess.

You hadn’t seen him like that before, his expression twisted with anger, with hatred. The shock of it had frozen you in place, and then…you ran. You ran from the cathedral, from the possibility that the man who once looked at you with kindness now only saw betrayal.

And now, sitting here, the moment drowns out the light laughter of your fellow maids. You can’t shake the feeling that the Leon who stood in the cathedral wasn’t just angry—he was looking for you.

But you’re not the Saintess anymore.

You haven’t been for some time, but he wouldn't know. He couldn’t have known that you’d been stripped of your title, that you’ve been replaced. He must’ve thought the woman he saw was you, still wearing the veil of divinity. And the way he looked at her—looked at you—wasn’t with the softness you remember. No, there was something darker, a disdain so palpable that it tore through every fond memory you had of him.

You swallow, your throat dry, as the image of him at the cathedral burns in your mind. How had it come to this? How had the boy you once knew become a man so consumed by anger, by hatred? You think of the maids' gossip—how he’s rejecting noblewomen, how he’s broken hearts without a second thought—and you can’t help but wonder what he would look like now, staring at someone he loves...

Shuddering, you push the thought aside, trying to shake it from your mind. Maybe you can talk to Lord Chris about it, ask for his guidance in making amends with Leon, or maybe—

"Hey, you okay?"

Mark's question cuts through your spiraling thoughts, and you look up to find the entire table staring at you with varying shades of concern. A flush rises to your cheeks, and you fumble for a response, tripping over your words.

"I, um— yes, I'm alright." You take a steadying breath, immediately going back to stirring your food, knuckles whitening. "It's just—I'm a bit tired. I toured nearly the whole market today but had no luck with the thing I was looking for."

You give him your best attempt at a reassuring smile, but judging by the way he tilts his head at you, he's not buying it. He stares at you for a moment longer, studying you intently, before he gives a shrug and turns away.

Not even a month passes before the report lands on his desk.

The majority of lily soap sales, it seems, have gone to one place—the Redfield estate. The testimonies from shopkeepers speak of a particular maid, one who purchased an absurd amount of the soap. They claim she spent a small fortune, fearful of another shortage. But that isn’t what stands out.

No, it’s the way they described her—mistaken for a noble the moment she entered the shop, all because of the way she carried herself. Poised. Dignified.

Leon leans back in his chair, closing his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to breathe. It’s you. It has to be. The fragments of the puzzle are slowly coming together, each piece falling into place with a clarity that tightens something in his chest.

He exhales softly, an excited, expectant grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He’ll keep playing this game, keep pulling at the threads until everything unravels. Until you’re standing right in front of him once more.

Sunlight filters through the large, arched windows of Chris Redfield's office, casting long streaks of gold across the dark mahogany floor, dappling the room in a warm, almost serene glow. Dust motes drift lazily in the beams, like memories swirling in the still air. The crackling fire in the hearth only adds to the warmth, a comforting presence in a room filled with sharp edges—of old swords hung on the walls and the faint tang of oiled leather and metal.

Leon sprawls on a chaise near the window, one leg draped over the other, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his body is a coiled spring, ready to snap into action at any moment. His dark coat hangs loosely on the back of the seat, cravat untied, a few buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the faint lines of old scars crisscrossing his chest. There’s a ruggedness to him, an edge that doesn't quite fit in with the refined waistcoat stretching taut against his broad chest. His rolled-up sleeves expose forearms marked with callouses and veins, the map of a warrior’s life etched into his skin.

"How's Claire?" Leon asks, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, watching the sunlight dance off its surface.

Chris takes a long sip before answering. “She’s well. Busy, as always. The horses are coming along better than expected. She’s hoping to have them ready for sale in a few months, especially with the new barn completed.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, taking on a more direct approach. “But I don’t think you came here to talk about my sister or the horses. What’s really going on, Leon? Why the sudden visit?”

Leon offers a tight smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can’t an old friend stop by for a drink?”

Chris snorts, his grin broad but skeptical. “Sure, if you consider bribery drinking. I see you didn't disappoint with the bottle of twenty-five-year-old cognac." His amusement fades as quickly as it came, the weight of serious matters creeping into the conversation. "Come on, we both know you have more than a friendly visit on your mind, and if it's business, you've been acting strange about it. So...?"

"You're housing the former Saintess."

Chris's glass stills halfway to his mouth, and he looks sharply at Leon as if he's suddenly grown two heads. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"Where did you hear that?"

Leon huffs, leaning back casually and propping one ankle on the opposite knee, as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. "Does it matter?"

"Considering it could be a rumor spread by palace spies? Yes."

The question makes him want to tear his hair out. "No palace spies. I did my own investigating."

"Why are you sniffing around her, Leon? If you’ve come here to cause trouble—" Chris's expression darkens, the threat evident as he blatantly starts to glare. "Leave her alone. Don't drag her into whatever scheme you're planning."

Leon bristles at that, his surprise turning to frustration as his fingers tighten around the glass. "Scheme? You think that lowly of me?"

"You come to my home, interrogate me about one of my staff, and expect me to believe it's for innocent reasons? Are you trying to play me for a fool? That won't fly."

"If you must know..." Leon pauses for a beat, letting the tension build before continuing. "I intend to marry her."

For a moment, Chris stares at Leon in stunned silence, a range of emotions flickering across his face—from disbelief to exasperation, finally settling somewhere between exhaustion and resignation. "Are you insane?"

"She deserves better than being a servant, Chris. You and I both know that," Leon shoots back, his grip on the glass tightening to the point where it feels like the whole thing might shatter. "I'm not letting the Saintess be disrespected."

"She deserves peace. That’s what I’m giving her here. She’s living a life of anonymity, away from politics, away from the court. She’s finally free, Leon. You think dragging her back into the spotlight, back into a world that nearly destroyed her, is better?"

"It’s not better if she’s being worked like a peasant. She’s the Saintess. She doesn’t belong here, scrubbing floors and washing dishes."

Chris’s expression hardens. "She’s not the Saintess anymore. She chose this life."

"Did she?" Leon stands abruptly, unable to contain the restless energy burning inside him any longer. He paces to the large windows, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor. Outside, the gardens stretch out in a sea of green, the flowers and foliage swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze. His hands press against the cold stone windowsill, knuckles turning pale as his grip tightens. "Or did the temple abandon her, strip her of her title, and toss her into the gutter? She didn’t have a choice, Chris. She was thrown into this because they used her and discarded her when she was no longer useful."

Finally, Chris exhales, the tension in his body deflating as he slumps back into his chair, running a hand over his face. "You don’t understand what you’re asking for. You think you can just walk in here, sweep her off her feet, and everything will be fine? You’re a noble now. If you marry her, you’ll expose her to the same world that's crushing you."

The words strike a chord in Leon. He looks away, running a hand through his hair, jaw tense. You'd be thrust into a world of backstabbing and corruption, of scheming nobility and ambitious opportunists, all vying for your attention and affection—just as he is. The thought makes something twist in his stomach. By trying to give you the life you deserve, he could very well condemn you to the same fate as him. The irony isn’t lost on him.

After a moment, he meets Chris's gaze with equal intensity. "I can keep her safe."

"And marry a maid instead of a princess? What do you think will happen to keeping her safe once the word gets out? They'll tear into her name trying to figure out who she is and where she came from. Every detail of her life will be dissected by the public. There's no going back after that, Leon."

"I've already purchased a title for her. Daughter of an inconsequential Baron in the countryside, far away from court intrigue. I won't hurt her, I swear to you, I won't—"

"What are you going to do if she doesn’t want that? What if she’s content with the life she has now?"

Leon’s breath catches, his chest constricting painfully as the question slams into him with the force of a blow. His mind whirls, memories of you—laughing, serene, unreachable—colliding with the possible image of you now, hands roughened from labor, back bent in servitude.

Leon’s jaw clenches, his hand curling into a fist at his side. He’s never liked being questioned like this, least of all by someone who doesn’t understand the weight of what he feels. It’s not about control or power, it’s about making sure you’re safe. Protected. Cherished. You deserve more than the drudgery of a servant’s life, more than the anonymity of living in the shadows.

“Content isn't enough,” he snaps, sharper than intended. He looks out the window again, following the path the maid and gardener take as they disappear around the corner of the estate. The thought of you, hidden away, your light dimmed by the mundanity of daily life—it's unbearable. “I want her to be happy.”

“Not everyone wants the life we have. Hell, I barely want it sometimes.”

Leon stays silent for a moment, his mind racing. He’s known Chris for years, fought beside him, trusted him with his life on countless battlefields. And yet, at this moment, it feels as though Chris doesn’t understand him at all. How can he not see that you deserve better? That you deserve more than what this world has handed you?

“I can protect her,” Leon repeats, though the words feel hollow now, like he’s trying to convince himself more than Chris. He turns away from the window.

Chris exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, the lines of stress deepening around his eyes.

Leon’s throat tightens, frustration and something deeper clawing at his chest. He knows Chris is right. He knows it. But that doesn’t make it any easier. He wants to protect you, to shelter you from the harshness of the world, to wrap you in the safety and comfort that he can provide. But what if that’s not what you want? What if you’ve already found peace in the simple life you’ve built for yourself here?

Silence stretches between them, uncertainty flooding the room like a heavy mist. For a while, neither speaks, the only sounds are the faint rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds outside. He watches another maid rush to the gardens down below, idling, starting to tend to it, and his mind wanders, consumed by the possibility of what might be. Of you, warm and smiling, dressed in luxurious gowns, wearing jewelry, no longer burdened with hard labor.

"I know you feel for her," Chris states, breaking the silence.

"Of course, I feel for her! She's the Saintess, Chris. She's—" Leon pauses midway through his outburst, catching the glint in his friend's eye and stopping short. He runs a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. "I've sworn loyalty to her. That isn't going to change."

"So, marriage, all for the sake of her station. What if she wants to marry for love? Did you think about that?"

No.

Leon didn't think about that at all.

His brows furrow, his knuckles white as he grips the windowsill, the confession sinking into him with a force. Had he not taken a vow to Ethelion during his first visit to the cathedral, just to protect the Saintess? Then he'll honor it, he's decided, and it isn't only because he's loyal to his word. There's an unmistakable desire inside him, one he doesn't quite know how to quantify, a selfish, possessive urge that wants to wrap you in silk and diamonds and lace and never let you go. He'd marry you to keep you protected and by his side. He would wed you out of devotion to his duty and to you. He would lay his heart at your feet, offer himself, kneel before you, worship you—if he could.

His heart aches at the thought of you being taken away by some faceless somebody who doesn't deserve you. No, the mere idea of it sets every nerve in his body on fire, a deep, unsettled rage stirring in his gut. Who could ever be worthy of something sacred and untouchable as your love?

The imagination cuts him deeper than any knife could, his ribcage can't expand as if a chestplate way too small for him was forcibly wrapped around his torso. The thought is enough to draw a pained noise out of him, a sound more animal than human, a feral, primal part of himself roaring at the notion. He shakes his head as if to clear the vision from his mind, swallows thickly as he stares blankly out of the window, unable to meet the man's gaze. Beneath his boots, the floor feels unsteady, and for a second, he thinks he might topple over, sink to the ground. Instead, he presses his palms against the stone wall beside the window, anchoring himself to something solid.

The truth is that he's in a position to make a difference in your life, to provide security and happiness beyond your wildest dreams. And Leon would use all that he has for you. Everything he owns, all that he possesses—it's all yours, if only you would accept it.

He ends up saying, "She deserves respect. I can give her that," while focusing on the two workers down in the garden to gain back his footing.

Interrupting the conversation is the door creaking open, and the maids enter, carrying trays of refreshments. The soft clink of glass against polished silver fills the space as they move about, placing items on the low table before the fire. Leon remains by the window, facing the crisp autumn air head blowing in from the open windows on, his silhouette bathed in golden sunlight, hands clasped behind his back, his posture taut.

He hears Chris mutter something, dismissing the maids, but one set of footsteps lingers. A single presence. And Leon knows those gentle, deliberate footsteps like the back of his own hand. He stiffens, arms loosening to hang by his sides like a soldier coming to attention, his throat going dry. He doesn't turn, not yet, unwilling or perhaps unable to face what he feels coming.

“Here she is," Chris says with a quiet finality. "You wanted to speak to her, didn't you? Talk then. I'll be right outside. Don't take too long."

With that, he pushes up from the armchair, taking one of the glasses with him and heading towards the door. The door clicks shut behind Chris, the sound of it like the final toll of a bell, sealing his fate. And for a moment, there's nothing, no movement, no words. Just silence.

For a heartbeat, all Leon can do is stand frozen, the world narrowing to that small room, the soft breath of the person standing just a few steps behind him. Your perfume—lilies and a hint of freshly washed linen—drifts towards him, washing over him in an alluring, almost numbing wave. In this instant, it feels as if all the time and distance he's crossed to find you has brought him back to the cathedral, when you were still the Saintess, veiled and untouchable. You seem to surround him, overwhelming his senses, making the past few years vanish, as if he's walked right into a waking dream.

You shift, and he can sense the slightest movement, like an electrical current beneath his skin, drawing his attention and heightening his awareness of your proximity. He turns slowly, the motion almost hesitant, breath catching as he takes in the figure standing near the exit of the room, framed by the shadows close to the walls.

You're not the same as he remembers. You don't wear flowing robes of pristine white or a veil that obscures your features, standing there, awkward and still, a tray balanced delicately in your hands. The clothing doesn't even resemble the uniform of a saintess—or what the servant garb should look like at the estate. Yet, somehow, in this instance, seeing you dressed like this, a demure maid, hits him with a sense of injustice that tears at his heart.

When your gazes collide, he doesn't know where to look. His gaze darts briefly to the floor, to the mahogany paneling, to anywhere that isn’t your face. The vulnerability that grips him is unfamiliar, unsettling, and it leaves him feeling unmoored, as though the ground beneath his feet might give way at any moment.

When he finally musters the courage to look back up and take in your features with all of his heart without being ashamed by it and feeling like he might go blind like he's looking directly at the sun, it’s in time to catch your wide-eyed stare. You’re just as stunned as he is—perhaps more so—as if you've seen a ghost. And then the tray falls from your hands with a clatter, sending the wine splashing across the expensive rug, a red river swirling with gold.

"Oh, I'm—I apologize!" You flinch back, crouching down hastily to gather the tray with trembling hands. You grab at the cloth napkin and dab at the carpet frantically, desperately trying to mop up the spill.

His body reacts faster than his mind does, and he closes the distance in two long strides, falling to his knees in front of you. His hands cup yours, fingers curling gently around yours. You jolt in surprise, shoulders tensing, but don’t pull away.

"It's alright." His voice is hoarse, thick with emotion. He glances at you and sees your brow creasing as you hold his gaze, your eyes bright with unshed tears. "Please."

There's a sudden prickling pressure at the backs of his nose, the threat of tears threatening to break through, and he drops his head, inhaling a steadying breath. Goddamnit. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the swell of emotion to subside.

Your response is softer than the rustle of pages in a book, almost a whisper, barely audible in the silence of the room. "Sir Leon...?"

The sound of his name is both a caress and a dagger, digging into the tender parts of him that have been raw and exposed.

"Saintess." The word slips out on a ragged breath before he can stop it, an involuntary confession. "I've returned to you."

The warmth of your fingers pressing against his startles him the moment you move, and he becomes aware of what he's been doing -- touching you so carelessly. The newfound title and fame couldn't have gotten to his head so badly that he would forget himself now, could it? Leon can't be sure whether he'd really been the type to behave like a reckless fool all along or if his meeting with you just now and seeing your form for the first time after years had broken down the little that remained of the disciplined man.

Heat climbs his throat and settles in his ears—you're not someone who he can put his hands on. Not even a stranger at this point, to him. In the back of his mind, the young boy with the sickly body remembers that he was touched by you, as a child, the day you healed him, the sensation still vivid, even after so many years.

Leon withdraws, shifting to a kneeling position as he clasps his hands together on his thighs. He tilts his chin upward to find you still crouched in the same position as well, with the wet napkin clenched tightly in your hands, holding your gaze fixed on him. Your intense focus, the way you're studying every line of his face, drinking in his appearance—it makes Leon swallow harshly, hoping his cheeks wouldn't color under your unabashed scrutiny.

"You..." You trail off, lowering your gaze to the floor as you fix your bonnet, as if unsure you should give shape to the words. "I'm no longer the Saintess. The temple has appointed another."

Something twists in his chest, a dark, twisting ache that's become all too familiar as of late. "You think I don't know that?" He means to sound understanding, patient, but instead, his words come out biting, edged with frustration. He deflates when you blink rapidly at him, startled at the change in his demeanor. "I'm sorry," he breathes, offering a shaky smile, "it's just... it was just a lot to take in."

It's a hell of an understatement, but it seems to satisfy you, at least enough to relax a fraction. Still, he watches as your shoulders rise and fall in a shuddering motion, a soft intake of air escaping you.

"We shouldn't be sitting on the floor."

"Ah, yes!" He scrambles to his feet, extending a hand to help you to yours.

When his fingers brush the back of your palm, he feels that same shock, the hairs on his arm standing on end, like an electrical charge, and it takes all his willpower not to snatch his hand away. Instead, he curls his fingers tighter around you, a reflex, and pulls you to your feet. He keeps you steady as you straighten, your bodies close enough that he swears he can feel the heat radiating off yours, warming him better than the fireplace ever could.

He shouldn't.

He really...

"You've changed."

At the sound of your voice, Leon blinks, returning to the present. It takes him a moment to realize he'd been staring. "What, no 'welcome home'?" The attempt at levity dies on his lips when he sees your expression—earnest, searching—and he swallows hard, forcing a tight smile. "Sorry. Impertinent now, aren't I?"

"No—"

"Come," he gestures towards the couch, "sit with me for a bit. It's been... a long time, hasn't it?"

You hesitate for a beat, uncertainty flashing across your features before you nod slowly, allowing him to lead you to the chaise by the hearth, the same seat Leon vacated.

As you settle, his eyes sweep over you, noting your appearance in excruciating detail. A faded grey dress, loose and modest, the neckline high and unfashionable. Lace cuffs, fraying at the edges. Thick wool stockings visible from the ankles, probably borrowed and a size too big, peeking out from under the hem of your skirt. Hems threadbare. Even now, you make it look lovely. Elegant. He wants to get on his knees.

He clears his throat, pulling his thoughts back to the present. "I wanted to—"

"How did you—"

Your words stumble over each other in a rush, and you stop short, caught halfway through your sentence.

He holds his tongue, waiting for you to finish.

"I'm sorry, please, continue," you bow your head apologetically, embarrassment in the flutter of your lashes.

"No, no, it's okay. Please," he motions for you to speak.

You press your palms flat against your lap, smoothing out your wrinkled skirts, trying to buy yourself a few seconds. "Why, I wondered... why you came to see me. After all these years, after everything?"

Why.

Now that was a loaded question.

"Because I swore a vow, didn't I?" He offers a small grin, but it wavers as he tries to explain. "I mean. To—"

"Are you perhaps here to call me to account for my failure, as a servant of Ethelion?" You ask, shaking, almost on the verge of tears. "For failing all my paladins when I should have protected you?"

You duck your head again, hiding behind the brim of your bonnet. Your gaze dips to the floor, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of your skirts. But not before he catches a glimpse of the haunted expression, the torment and regret clear in the line of your mouth, pulled tight with emotion.

Leon slips off of the chaise all too easily, kneeling on the ground before you, his body moving of its own accord, as if drawn in by an irresistible force. He's so close that if he were to try looking down, he could just... rest his forehead on your knees, lean against your legs for support.

"What are you doing?" You start, half rising from your seat as if you're about to bolt, shocked at his boldness, but sit back down when you can't go anywhere with him as a barrier. “Sir Leon! Stop it, you can't—"

But he doesn't. He stays right there, unmoving, not daring to push boundaries. "You never failed anyone," he says earnestly, speaking with a clarity that catches you by surprise. "Not our cause, not me, not any paladin. It wasn't you who sent us to battle, it was those who served the gods, and they... They ordered their own people into a fight for their own glory."

He pauses, glancing up at your teary eyes, the disbelief, and he knows that you won't believe him, that the guilt will cling to you for days or weeks after today. If he's being honest with himself, the grief of losing his comrades may never fully go away, but—you haven't abandoned them. He will make damn sure you never consider yourself complicit in what happened, for as long as he lives.

Your lips quiver, and you tilt your head away from him, as though wanting to shield your face from view. He hates that he can't do anything to assuage your pain, to shoulder some of the burden you're carrying, but he's equally fascinated by this side of you, hidden and vulnerable, that he rarely saw when you were a saintess. He's grateful, too, that you're trusting him enough to see you like this.

You waver, thin and unsteady, as you respond, "And now what do you need? I'm no longer a Saintess who can bless your endeavors. I can’t give you anything."

The way you say it…

The words feel clumsy on his tongue at what you just said, inadequate compared to the burning intensity of what he truly wishes to convey. There’s too much to be said. That he’d never want anything out of you, that he wouldn’t stand you talking about yourself like something to be exploited, that he hates the way you see yourself…

It's tempting, so tempting, to just reach out. To slide his hand between yours, interlacing your fingers like lovers might. To curl his arm around your waist and draw you closer, to pull your smaller frame into him. It would be easy, so easy. But it would also be improper, disrespectful, wrong. And besides, despite what some might think, he knows how to restrain himself. He doesn't allow his hands to follow through with these baseless impulses.

Instead, he sits back on his heels like a dog, folding his hands in front of him. His posture is stiff and formal, mirroring your own, but his heart hammers wildly in his chest, betraying the calm façade he's attempting to maintain.

"I know you're no longer Saintess," he begins carefully. Your breath catches audibly at the title, and he hurriedly continues, "But I swore an oath to you, nonetheless, and I intend to honor it. You're my Saintess. Always will be."

Silence stretches between you, and he averts his gaze, focusing intently on the swell of your knees, afraid that if he looks at you, he'll break. "It's my duty to protect you, if you'll let me. I—" His words falter, caught in his throat as he struggles to speak past the sudden tightness there, "I swear upon Ethelion, I'll never leave your side. No matter what."

The room falls quiet again, save for the crackling of the logs in the fireplace, the soft hiss and pop as the wood splits apart, consuming itself. Outside, the sounds of birds singing in the breeze drift in, mingling with the rustle of leaves in the wind, distant conversations floating upwards from the grounds below. He counts the heartbeats pounding against his ribcage, three... four... five...

"Leon, what..?"

"Please marry me."

The words slip out, almost involuntarily, as though they'd been perched on the tip of his tongue, waiting for an opening to leap free. The silence grows, stretching taut between you, until he can't stand it any longer.

You draw a breath, and he raises his head. There's no mistaking it now — your eyes widen, and your shoulders tense as you sink back into the cushions of the couch. For a split second, the surprise gives way to something approaching fear, and a surge of panic wells up inside him at the sight.

This isn't what he intended — or, rather, not quite. He meant to ease you into the idea, to present his offer gently and smoothly, the proposal rehearsed in his mind countless times before. But his usual composure and decorum have abandoned him today, and now his mouth is running far ahead of his mind.

"Wh...Why?"

Of all the possible responses you could give, that is perhaps the most unexpected one. He stares at you dumbly, utterly thrown, fumbling for an answer. "I would cherish your hand in mine," he answers after a beat, trying to salvage his words, "I would treasure you, more than anyone ever could."

"But why?"

Leon's frustration bubbles to the surface. “This—” he gestures to the simple dress you wear, the apron tied around your waist, the calluses that have begun to form on your hands from hours of labor. “This is beneath you. Bowing down to others, doing their bidding… this isn’t what you’re meant for.”

Something flares behind your eyes—hurt? Anger? Indignation?

Before he can analyze your reaction too deeply, you ask again, more forcefully this time, “Why do you think it’s beneath me? Just because I don’t hold a sword like you or a blessing scepter in my hand doesn’t mean what I do is any less important—"

"It's not like that!" Leon interjects.

"—You think I should be wasting away as an ornament somewhere, is that what I am to you—"

"That's not what I meant! I meant I'd want to provide for you and protect you, and—"

"From what?! What is there to protect me from here?"

He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing the neatly coiffed locks and lets out an aggravated huff. "They don’t deserve you. The people here… they don’t deserve your labor, your effort. You should be served, not serving others.”

He must have said the wrong thing, your brows knit together as you frown, clearly displeased by his statement. Something in the twist of your lips sends a tremor through him, the way the set of your jaw is so determined, so stubborn, even against his arguments. This is the first time he's seeing fire from you instead of light, a display of character beyond the serene saintess façade you had to carry during the days at the cathedral. It makes heat pool in the pit of his belly, something heavy settling in his lungs and he's suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"Then what am I supposed to do? Sit around doing nothing because—because you still see me as someone divine?" You shake your head, adamant in the words you utter. "I have purpose here! The Redfields have been kind to me, they took me in—"

"But you serve. You still serve."

Your words seem to die at what he says at the very end. Still serve. "I beg your pardon?"

"You bled every single day. Serving in the temple, serving the masses, serving others with a smile on your face, to the point of losing yourself. Used yourself, your strength, your grace, gave up your sleep and food and even your freedom. Your dignity, as the temple tried to mold you to suit whatever they wanted. That's all you knew for years and then just dropped into the world to figure things out by yourself, and went back to what you know best once more. Serve. This time, under a different name. A Saintess. A servant. It's not all that different, you know. And maybe you don't know how else to live. But I'm here to change that for you. To give you a choice."

Something wounded takes over you, like an injured animal struck by surprise before it bolts. A deep chill settles in him at how lost you look, how frightened and unsure, so unguarded and unprepared for him. He doesn't even know if this conversation is making you feel worse or better; maybe his intentions are clearer now, or more nefarious. It hurts either way, but Leon doesn't back down, doesn't look away from you.

The tears begin to fall without warning, trailing hot and wet down your cheeks. Leon's face crumples at the sight, shame washing over him at causing you distress. He reaches up instinctively, wanting to brush them away, but his fingers only graze your skin for a second before you flinch back and turn, covering your face with a hand as you forcibly stand up from the couch and move away from him.

He lets you go, a pang shooting through him as you cross the room. But when you reach the door, your steps hesitate, and his pulse stutters when you glance over your shoulder at him one last time.

"All I ask of you is to think about it," he pleads, not able to hide the note of misery in his voice as he leans toward your direction, hands placed on where you were just resting, fingers sinking into the cushions, "please."

Your lips part as if you're going to say something. You almost speak, almost giving way to your thoughts. Then you shut your mouth and dart forward, yanking the doors open and fleeing the room.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #leon x reader

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ohisms · 5 days ago

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✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 . ( a collection of dialogue prompts from the film the hobbit : the desolation of smaug . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

this is no chance meeting , is it , [ name ] ?

take back your homeland .

what if i were to help you reclaim it ?

that's not the worst of it .

we have another problem .

what did i tell you ? quiet as a mouse .

will you just listen ? i'm trying to tell you there's something else out there .

the bear is unpredictable , the man can be reasoned with .

come away from there , it's not natural . none of it .

it's obvious , he's under some dark spell .

you'll be safe here tonight ... i hope .

we grow in number , we grow in strength .

death will come to all .

there are others like you ?

you're running out of time .

a darkness lies upon that forest .

i would not venture there except in great need .

go now while you have the light .

this forest feels ... sick . as if a disease lies upon it .

something moves in the shadows unseen , hidden from our sight .

if our enemy has returned , we must know .

i would not do this unless i had to .

you've changed , [ name ] .

you must stay on the path . do not leave it . if you do , you'll never find it again .

is there no end to this accursed forest ?

we're going around in circles , we are lost .

the sun . we have to find the sun .

we're being watched .

they're growing bolder .

not just a thief , but a liar as well .

i myself suspect a more prosaic motive .

i have seen how you treat your friends .

you turned away from the suffering of my people .

a hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf . i'm patient . i can wait .

did he offer you a deal ?

shh ! there are guards nearby .

you were supposed to be leading us out , not further back in !

are you mad ? they'll find us .

please . please , you must trust me .

this is not a nice place to meet .

why now , [ name ] ? i don't understand .

a human sorcerer could not summon such evil .

in our blindness , the enemy has returned .

the enemy is preparing for war .

i started this . i cannot forsake them , they are in grave danger .

you want me to cast my friends aside ?

i think we've outrun the orcs .

we've no weapons to defend ourselves .

do it again , and you're dead .

what makes you think i would help you ?

no doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed .

oh , come on - enough of the niceties .

i would like to know who you are . and what you're doing in these lands .

we need food , supplies ... weapons . can you help us ?

i'd wager there are ways to enter that town unseen .

for that , you'd need a smuggler .

there was more he could have told us .

i don't care what he calls himself , i don't like him .

we don't have to like him , we just have to pay him .

i've been bled dry by this adventure ! and what have i seen for my investment ?

if you value your freedom , you'll do as i say .

folk in this town are suffering .

you'd do well to remember ; we know where you live .

it's a small town , [ name ] , everyone knows where everyone lives .

who would have the nerve to question my authority ?

you promised us weapons .

death ! that is what you'll bring upon us .

have you forgotten what happened to [ name / location ] ?

let us not be so quick to lay blame .

join us when you're healed .

[ name ] , you belong with the company .

i belong with my brother .

we have no time to wait , we're on our own .

the evil that is hidden here ... i command it reveal itself .

you have keen eyes , [ name ] .

let all those who doubted us rue this day !

i know these walls ... these halls , this stone .

i do not know what you'll find down there .

it never ceases to amaze me . the courage of hobbits .

if there is in fact a live dragon down there , don't waken it .

come , now ... don't be shy . step into the light .

there is something about you , something you carry .

there you are , thief in the shadows .

i did not come to steal from you .

do you think flattery will keep you alive ?

what else do you claim to be ?

truly , you are mistaken .

you have nice manners , for a thief and a liar .

i know the smell and taste of dwarf .

they are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh .

did you think i did not know this day would come ?

you should leave us .

and go where ? there is nowhere to go .

the dragon , it's going to kill us .

i kill where i wish , when i wish .

my armor is iron , no blade can pierce me .

i need you to distract the guards .

time to do what , to get killed ?

yes , i'm afraid . i'm afraid for you .

you're not yourself .

the darkness is coming ... it will spread to every corner of the land .

you were only ever a means to an end .

i will not part with a single coin . not one piece of it .

your reputation precedes you .

you have no equal on this earth .

i think our little game ends here .

so tell me , thief ... how do you choose to die ?

we've given him the slip .

there may be a way out .

it's our only chance , we have to try .

i've heard tales of the wonders of elvish medicine .

that was a privilege to witness .

i will not die like this . cowering . gasping for breath .

if this is to end in fire , then we will all burn together .

perhaps it is time i paid them a visit .

this isn't their fault !

you care about them , do you ? good . then you can watch them die .

i am taking back what you stole .

you will take nothing from me .

i laid low your warriors of old . i instilled terror in the hearts of men .

this is not your kingdom . these are dwarf lands .

revenge ? revenge ?! i will show you revenge !

i am fire . i am death .

what have we done ?

#inbox prompt #rp inbox prompt #rp meme #inbox meme #ohisms #fantasy rp meme

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cosmerelists · 2 months ago

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Cosmere Characters at a Cat Cafe

There's no way this could realistically happen, but let's set that aside and imagine Cosmere characters at a Cat Cafe.

1. Syl

Syl: [substantiated just enough to hold a little kitten in her arms] Syl: 🥹 Syl: T-This is the greatest day of my life... Kaladin: There, uh, was that time I spoke an oath... Syl: THIS IS BETTER

2. Design

Design: Well, would you look at that! Design: I thought these enormous boobs were mostly good for symmetry and being stared at, but apparently, they make an excellent kitten bed too! Kitten: [Snoozing happily] Design: ...Maybe I should make them bigger.

3. Charlie

Charlie: [sitting very tensely] Tress: Hey...was this a bad idea? You're human now, so... Charlie: N-No it's fine! I know they can't eat me! Charlie: ... Charlie: They want to, though. I can sense it. Charlie: (whispering) Their eyes... Tress: Maybe we should go!

4. TenSoon (in dog form)

TenSoon: [lying down with two cats sleeping on him] TenSoon: [thumping his tail gently as a kitten tries to catch it] TenSoon: Yes...this form has many advantages...

5. Nale

Has the experience that @cosmereplay has documented here: https://cosmereplay.tumblr.com/post/749152650136862720/thanks-to-priscellie-for-the-idea

6. Lightsong

Lightsong: ... Llarimar: You look contemplative, Your Grace. Lightsong: Yes...just looking around this place... Lightsong: All these cats being given food whenever they please, the floor littered with toys, a room full of people eager to give them whatever attention or treats or massages they may desire... Lightsong: It's just like to Court of the Gods, isn't it? Llarimar: I can see wisdom in that, Your Grace. Lightsong: Only I think these gods are rather more useful than we are! Llarimar: ... Lightsong: I can sense your disapproving stare from here, Scoot...

7. Kelsier

Ham: Huh! It says that this cat was found living on the streets as a kitten--they found it huddled in a cardboard box and were luckily able to capture it to get food and medical care. Ham: And now it's doing way better! That's sweet. Kelsier: We're adopting it. Ham: Uh...? Kelsier (already has the kitten in his arms): I said we're adopting it!

8. Breeze

Very fluffy cat: [Preparing to jump on Breeze's lap] Breeze: Psst! Shoo! I don't need your white fur on my suit! Very fluffy cat: [Hops up next to Breeze] Breeze: Shoo, I said! Breeze: Go! Scram! Very fluffy cat: [Sits down on Breeze's lap] Breeze: ... Breeze: It's like this EVERY time. Allrianne: The cats love you! Breeze: We have GOT to pick a different date spot!

9. Renarin

Cat: [looks at Renarin] Renarin: [looks at cat] Cat: [blinks slowly] Renarin: [blinks slowly back] Cat: [pats over and plops down on Renarin's lap] Rlain: Master of nonverbal communication much? Renarin (petting cat): I wish people were this easy!

10. Steris

Steris: [a large cat has curled up near her on the couch, not quite touching her. Steris is scratching the cat gently behind the ears] Steris: I like cats. Steris: They have a very precise understanding of how they'd like to be treated, and once you know those rules, you can get along famously. Wayne: Hey look! The employee told me that THIS cat likes to be petted like a bongo drum! Wayne: Look how happy he is! Pat pat pat pat pat pat pat! Steris: ... Steris: Some cats are stranger than others.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Syl #Kelsier #Breeze #Nale #Steris #Renarin #Charlie #Lightsong #TenSoon #Design

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educatedsimps · 5 months ago

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— you are my sunshine, sakusa kiyoomi

≪ back to fics masterlist

sakusa kiyoomi x anorexic!reader

**TRIGGER WARNINGS: EATING DISORDER (anorexia), slight nsfw (light petting with no penetration, NC16 at most?), swearing PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU MAY BE TRIGGERED BY THE ABOVE TOPICS. please exercise some self-care and enjoy some of our other fics instead! we'll see you in our next post <3

a/n: i really NEEDED TO do this. doing this for my sanity 😭😭😭 - yves

content under the cut!

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," you sang as you drove along the expressway.

"You make me happy, when skies are grey," Sakusa, comfortably seated in the passenger seat, sang in response. He gently squeezed your thigh.

You let out a breath with a smile on your face. That day was an exciting day for the two of you. It was the match between the MSBY Black Jackels and Schweiden Adlers, and Kiyoomi had been a ball of nerves for the past week. So to show your support, you decided to drive your dear passenger princess, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to the Kamei Arena Sendai Gymnasium.

You had spent half a day at the office and the other half dolling yourself up for the match that evening. Kiyoomi frowned at the sheer effort you had put into looking good for him at the match. He grunted out something along the lines of "getting distracted by how pretty Y/n is" and how "You have to be less pretty or I'll have to learn how to fight with my bare fists". You laughed at the thought of your husband trying to smash someone's jaws with his fists when he hated any physical contact with strangers.

After kissing him goodbye at the back gates leading to the MSBY locker rooms, you went to the Ladies and touched up your lipgloss infront of the mirror. As you looked at your reflection, you thought to yourself, maybe I do look good.

Ding!

From: MSBY girlies + Keiji <3

Miyu (Atsumu's GF) [6.43pm] Y/n pookiee~ Are you here yet?

Keiji (Bokuto's fiance) [6.44pm] We're at the VIP section, Row 1. The security guard knows who you are so he'll show you the way in later. You sure you don't want us to come find you?

Kira (Meian's wife) [6.44pm] ahhh can't wait to see you, Y/n! XD

You smiled as you read their messages.

You [6.45pm] I'll be alright, thanks! I'm heading up right now Excited to see you guys too :>

They had been planning to sit together since the start of the new season, after Kiyoomi had formally introduced you to the rest of the team.

As you reached the VIP area, you immediately regretted agreeing to sit with them. Your self-esteem shattered the moment you saw them.

They were drop-dead gorgeous, with their perfect makeup, in their perfect outfits that hugged them in all the right places. They looked straight out of a fashion magazine. It was something about how feminine they looked, and the way they all smiled sweetly when they saw you. So inviting and loving. They were the boys' partners after all.

But they've got to have flaws, right? That's only human.

Their smiles felt genuine, and you could see glimpses of their partners in them. Some were rowdy, hugging you when they saw you and treating you like one of them. They asked you questions about yourself, even getting drinks and snacks for you and including you in the post-game party at Bokuto's place. For a moment, you felt like one of them.

But how can a whole group of people be so damn perfect?

God, how you hated how inferior you felt. The differences between you and them became even more apparent when you saw the post-game pictures that had posted on Instagram. You had only gotten their Insta handles just a day before and were already on the verge of unfollowing.

It was insane how out of place you felt as they sat there so pretty in just their partners' jerseys. Somehow, they still managed to look so good. Unlike you.

Eventually, your brain churned out only one reason - it all came down to how small and delicate they looked compared to you.

How they looked worthy to be the lovers of the MSBY players. How they were pretty enough to be their partners.

It was crazy enough that you were comparing yourself to the Akaashi Keiji. How alluring he was, even just sitting in the same area as you. He was even more beautiful up close, there was something deep within his psyche that was so magnetic. It was evident that he took care of himself, with how his dress shirt clung to his thin waist. You can't help but admire him, and you wondered if your own clothes would ever do you the same favour.

If only you had a waist as small as his.

It scared you how the need to fit in with them became so acute. The hopes of not being the laughing stock of the group fueled the waves of self-hatred that you hadn't felt since high school. You were bullied for being chubbier than average. Teenagers were brutal, especially to anything they perceived to be different.

Obese. Katsudon. Pork planet. They were corny, sure, yet shivers ran down your spine at the memory of those names. Not long after, you started having nightmares of that darned high school. The same bullies, the same by-stander classmates, and the new addition of Kiyoomi in his high school uniform with disgust in his eyes, telling you to break up with him. His back faced you whenever you asked for the reason.

It's because of how fat you are. He'd still love me no matter what right? Right?

And every time you woke up from one of those nightmares, you would wake up sobbing.

Yet every time, Kiyoomi still seemed to be blissfully asleep. You knew he'd always have trouble sleeping before an upcoming match and with him looking so at peace, you never had the heart to wake him up.

He doesn't need to know about this. I'll tell him when morning comes.

But you never came round to telling him about the nightmares. The seeds of doubt from those recurring nightmares started to sprout inside you.

You stopped finishing your meals. You started running with Kiyoomi in the mornings to "spend more time with him". Lunch breaks at work were replaced with attending the pilates class across the street. The cans of Celcius in the fridge were depleting faster than ever. Your daily coffee order changed to an Iced Americanos with 4 shots of espresso.

And when the number on the scale dropped, the grin on your face was evidence enough of how light your heart felt. Nights were long when you spent the first hour waiting for Kiyoomi to fall sleep before you shimmied yourself out of his warm embrace to count the flaws of your body with your reflection in the full length bathroom mirror. With how your waist measurements dipped along with Sakusa's compliments of how much healthier you had become lately, your were giddy with happiness.

But God, did it hurt when you realised you had seemed 'unhealthy' to him in the first place. He could have just called you fat, it's not like you would've crumbled, right?

Hit with the sickening realisation that the voice in your head was right all along, that it was even how Kiyoomi saw you, your tears mixed into the shower water one day after a pilates class. You were glad that your husband was busy at practice and wouldn't come in to take an impromptu shower with you and see you in this wretched state.

Please, please, please, don't prove I'm right.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

"You'll never know, Dear. How much I love you~,"

Your husband sang from the kitchen as you hugged him from behind. With his beefy back against your face and him cooking breakfast, it felt like a blessing so surreal. You wished you'd never have to leave this position.

It's a late Saturday morning and you and Kiyoomi had agreed to have your usual stay-at-home date.

"Eggs?" He looked over his shoulder to you hugging him like an oversized stuffed toy.

"Maybe just egg whites today. I wanna try a new brand of yogurt I got yesterday with the granola I made this week," You replied, stifling a yawn

He nodded in acknowledgement and fetched the carton of egg whites from the fridge as you detached yourself from him and took the cutleries and dishes out of the dishwasher.

"How have you and the girls been? And how's the uh, pilates class you said was kicking your ass?" Kiyoomi asked as he plated his scrambled eggs.

You took the low fat, high protein yogurt out of the fridge as you replied, "It's fun, but I definitely understand why Pilates was made for prisoners."

His eyes were obviously judging you as he laughed to himself. "It can't be that bad. Definitely not as bad as our training when Meian-san is in a bad mood."

You could only sigh with a roll of your eyes. You retorted with an elbow jab to his side, "Why don't you come for class one day and we'll see about that, Mr. I'm-So-Strong."

He squirmed with the frying pan in his hand and a spatula in the other, swatting you away like a fly. You stepped away to giggle at the sight of him using his spatula like a sword in Barbie and the Three Musketeers.

When all was done, the both of you sat down at the small, 4-seater dining area in your home and continued chatting about how the week had gone.

"Itadakimasu!"

And the first thing that Kiyoomi dug into was your yogurt. You stared at him, offended. He ate it as if he was the one who had bought groceries that week.

The moment the yogurt touched his tongue, his face turned as sour as the yogurt he ate. With his face all scrunched up like that, you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle as you took the second spoon of yogurt from the same bowl.

“Y/n, I have no clue what’s so nice about this- this bowl of cold, white... glue," he looked at you in pure astonishment.

“That’s because you're supposed to eat it with fruits and granola, Omi-Omi," You stated simply.

You didn’t have the guts to tell him that you were more worried about exceeding your 600 calorie count for the day than how shitty the yogurt tasted.

"Atsumu's rubbing off on you..." he grumbled, making you giggle at the way his face scrunched up at the sound of Atsumu's nickname for him.

After breakfast, the two of you moved over to the sofa to browse Netflix for a show to watch. As usual, Kiyoomi had the remote control in his hand and the other on your thigh. Catching a glimpse of the wide smile on your face, he noticed that your thigh seemed a lot smaller and more toned than before. He glanced down at it, though his face didn't betray his shock.

Since when did your thigh get so small?

"Y/n, you like the size difference between my hand and your leg? Is that why you're smiling so much?" he teased, smiling as you blushed crimson.

"Didn't realise you had a size kink," he whistled, grinning as you slapped his bicep playfully. He tightened his warm grip on your thigh, making you gasp. Your hand reached for his shoulder as you swung yourself from the sofa and onto his lap for a peck on his lips. You could feel him smiling into the kiss before you pulled away.

"Seducing me this early in the morning, babe?" he said, poking your nose lightly with his finger.

You smirked teasingly at him as you moved your hips against his, making him groan softly into your ear.

"Maybe," you drawled, tracing his jawline with your finger before going in for another kiss. This time his lips trapped your tongue, sucking on it greedily. Dopamine rushed to your head as your innocent kiss became a steamy tug of war. His hands ghosted your abdomen and you suddenly became hyperaware of it.

Fuck, he can feel how fat I am.

You instinctively flexed your abs, in an attempt to stop him from feeling the folds of ugly fat around your stomach. His hands held your waist firmly as his thumb traced your abdomen, before coming to gradual stop.

Kiyoomi broke apart from the kiss, leaving your swollen lips to chase after his, but his forehead leaned against yours to signal a stop.

"Babe, what was that?"

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, and you weren't sure if it was from the make-out session or his realisation that...

"What was what?" you returned, looking at him with your best attempt at puppy eyes.

You were cold sweating by then, but you hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Are those… abs?" His eyes flew wide, his attention all on you. His eyes were filled with curiosity and oh, how they glimmered so beautifully.

You wished upon the stars you'd never have to lie to those eyes ever again.

"Of course, I just thought maybe you'd like to see a different side of me... a little sexier," you averted his gaze, guiding his hand towards the hem of your oversized shirt.

He lifted your shirt and you saw how his cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of red. Burying his face in your chest, he tilted his head up to meet your eyes. "God, I have no clue what to do with you, Y/n."

It was quite evident what he wanted when you felt his shaft become more prominent through his home shorts.

And the rest became a memory you keep with joy.

Please, please, please, don't bring me to tears when I just did my make up so nice.

But all that joy didn't last when you woke up the next morning, scrutinising your body in front of the mirror.

How could you let him see this? This slob of a body?

Shame clawed at your throat as your fingers tugged at the fat of your stomach. You placed your palm over your collarbones, and they felt sharper than they used to. You knew you'd definitely lost the weight, but the greed to look more dainty than ever had you in a chokehold.

These thighs look so fat. Your arms are so flabby. Gosh, even your armpits are fat. It's hideous.

You're hideous.

And nothing but regret and guilt kept gnawing at your insides like a feral beast. The only solution you came up with was to grab the biggest shirt in the house - his MSBY jersey - and the sweatpants that covered your legs entirely.

In the following days, when Kiyoomi tried to remove any article of clothing from your body, you grabbed his hand to stop him with the excuse that you were tired. But truthfully, your new routine had been wearing you out more than you had anticipated.

His next match was with EJP Raijin on another Saturday night, with crowds roaring from both sides of the arena. You let yourself loose the moment the girls called your name across the hall, running over to hug you.

Your defenses go down as you shared a laugh with the others. When they offered a pack of chips from the snack table, you hesitated. But your inner voice reminded you that you had been fasting since the previous day, so you take the bag of chips with a smile. You felt lightheaded and giddy when a couple of the girls compliment your figure - it was the happiest you'd felt in the past two months.

The hunger pains were worth every bit of this happiness.

During the match break, you found yourself talking to the EJP players' partners as well. When Atsumu's girlfriend introduces you to the other girls and guys, your attention went directly to Suna's fiancée. It's obvious that she was a much smaller build than the other girls but the way her dress hung off of her made you gulp nervously. Your brain was strangely and subconsciously wired to recognise her as competition. She was quiet and elegant, small but eloquent. She was everything you wanted to be.

"Oh, mineral water's fine with me," she said with a smile when you offered her a bottle of Coke Zero.

GUILT GUILT GUILT

It made you choke back tears when you realised how fat you were behaving. Or how bloated you looked right then, with all that carbonation and salt.

And those thoughts immediately got rid of any joy of that day. When you headed home, you tried your best to look happy after Kiyoomi had served the winning goal, but your mind was plagued with the nagging thought of how you had let yourself slip.

Later that night, after snuggling in with your husband and making sure he was fast asleep, you snuck out of his warm embrace. His biceps were so warm, and being sandwiched between his chest and his arm made it hard to leave when it was the best place to be.

You left to burn off the calories from the snacks you had binged on earlier that evening. As you left the bedroom with a yoga mat in arm, you were determined to complete the new routine you had promised yourself in the shower. You wished you could do it without any problems but recently, you had been seeing black spots and felt lightheaded every time you did any physical activity. It was a bitch to have to stop for awhile before continuing your exercises.

The moment you stepped into the shower, sweaty and tired, you didn't notice your husband stirring awake as the warm water hit your body.

Kiyoomi was confused when he woke up to his arm cold and the absence of your body pressed against his. He had been itching with nerves those few months when he realised your behaviour had started changing around him. And that same anxiety only heightened when he heard your sniffles coming from the shower. It was the first time you became so reclused from him. At first, he was worried that you were wringing yourself dry from the amount of work you had, but he later spiralled into thinking that it was because you were falling out of love with him.

When he heard the bedroom door click open, he hurriedly pretended to be asleep.

Beep. Silence. Beep.

Your sigh made him itching to hug you and ask what happened. But the sigh following the beep of the weighing scale made it clear to him that the number on the weighing scale had somehow upset you one way or another. You approached the full-length mirror and peeked again to make sure your husband was still fast asleep.

You lifted the jersey above your chest, throwing it off to the side of the bed where you slept.

Kiyoomi honestly thought you were about to climb into bed topless (don't ask, he was not in his working mind). But when you stood still in front of the mirror, scrutinising your body like a piece of meat at the market, he could tell that you weren't heading to bed anytime soon.

You pinched at every corner of skin you could find. You looked at the woman in the reflection, and all you could see was the poor girl in high school. Fat and ugly, unlikeable and pitiful.

You then turned to your side, hoping to find comfort in seeing a flatter stomach.

In the dim lights, Kiyoomi could see the outline of your emaciated figure and the faint outline of your ribcage was enough to make him open his eyes fully in shock. The bruises along your spine made him wonder if he had been too rough with you all those times you were intimate. The way your hipbones jutted out were enough to throw him into a pool of anxious thoughts.

Maybe he should talk to you about it tomorrow.

But the last straw was when you muttered under your breath about how fat you still were.

No, he had to talk to you about it ASAP.

The bed creaked as you crawled back into his arms and he wrapped his arms around your waist. He never remembered your waist being so small before.

"Can't sleep?" you asked, turning your head towards him. His eyes opened to see your face in front of him.

He was sure the moonlight was playing tricks on him. Your face had harsh lines that he had never noticed, your nose sharper than ever and eyes bigger than before. Your collarbones peeped out of his jersey, more prominent than he had ever seen.

Fuck, how did it get so bad?

He knew you were trying to get fitter but he never realised you were developing something beyond just healthy habits. Kiyoomi could only blame himself for being so absorbed by his recent matches. For not noticing you were harming yourself.

He nodded and you snuggled into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist comfortably. His thumb ran down your back in an effort to calm you both. Chills ran down his spine when he felt every ridge and bump of your vertebrate. It made him question how he had never noticed everything come crashing down.

"Babe, you okay? Aren't you be happy? Your team won today's match," you looked up into his eyes which were filled with concern. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought.

"How... how did you get so small?" he breathed.

You gulped. Things could only go south from here.

He continued. "I didn't realise it but when Atsumu mentioned it last week, I couldn't help but notice how much weight you've actually lost. Is it even safe to lose this much?"

He held you like you'd slip through his fingers at any moment, like water in a broken plastic cup.

You tried to avoid the topic, tried to look away but he wouldn't let you.

"...Atsumu? What did he say, specifically?" your eyes turned cold the second he mentioned his teammate.

What did he have anything to do with this?

Kiyoomi sat up against the bed frame before sighing deeply. "He was just asking if you were okay, 'cause you didn't seem as energetic as usual. And you can't argue with me, you have lost quite a bit of weight."

You knew that it was taking a lot out of him to talk about this, especially since he was never a confrontational person. It had to mean a lot to him, for him to face a situation like this head on.

"I'm-"

"No, Y/n. You're not fine. Have you been eating well? No, scratch that- have you been eating at all?"

You could feel the waterworks about to start, you felt the back of your eyes warming. Your fingernails dug into your palm, as if you could physically stop the tears from falling.

"I... I ate just now. With the girls," you whispered.

"A Proper Meal, babe. Not one of those 'girl dinner' crap you used to pull in college," he gritted out.

You let out a breath.

"2 days ago. Dinner," your voice cracked, and the waterworks had officially begun. Shame erupted in your chest.

"Fuck," Kiyoomi cursed under his breath.

He couldn't believe this was the same Y/n that would drag him out to enjoy their favourite foods together after a tiring day of practice and work. The same Y/n that enjoyed cooking together with him. The same Y/n that had monthly competitions with him to see who could finish more sushi plates at the conveyor belt sushi restaurant down the street.

It was the same Y/N that deprived herself of any food for days because she saw nothing but ugly, unwanted fat on her emaciated body.

Kiyoomi was speechless. He blinked several times, willing the tears welling up in his eyes not to fall but it was useless. You saw the way his tears rolled down his face along with his sharp intake of breath. He had never thought his wife would do something like this.

The guilt of not noticing what was happening to you was eating him alive.

He managed to calm himself down slightly before doing the only thing he could think of in the moment. He pulled you in and held you tight.

"Please," he whispered. Hugging you close, he begged, "Please don't take my sunshine away."

#educated.simps #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#yves.writes #lyssa.edits #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa fluff #hq sakusa

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shadow0214 · 5 months ago

Text

I've been reading some fanfics with Noa and I love them, so I thought I'd give it a go. It's my first time writing so...don't judge me to hard.

Noa × human OC

Belonging

Always the same thing around the 'bunker', no one told you the things that were happening, you hated that. You felt like they still treated you like a little child even though you were in your twenties already.

"Yes, didn't you know? We're going on an excursion." Samantha said to me while I was drying the dishes after dinner.

"Of course, I didn't, nobody tells me anything around here. It's annoying" You muttered

You were the best tracker they had, you loved being outside, learning the ways of nature, and still nobody ever took you into account when expeditions like this happened.

"Hey, that's enough Sam." A voice said entering the kitchen. "Don't listen to her, she's just trying to get on your nerves"

You looked back and smiled at the comment. Lila always knew how to calm things down.

"Why don't you speak with Anna? Maybe she'll let you go this time." Lila said

"Yes, like every other time I asked her" You scoffed and shook your head.

"C'mon, I'll go with you." Lila pushed

"I don't even own a horse yet." You said

"Well...that's your own fault, Envy could've been yours, you just gave her away to Kiara". Lila reminded you.

Kiara, the daughter of a couple that was part of the council, the leaders of your group. She was like a little sister to you ever since you met her. You had no family, your dad died on an expedition, most say apes killed him, and your mother died soon after she gave birth to you. Medicine was scarce and trying to make it from scratch was hard, not impossible since you had a lab in the facility but still, sometimes the main components were just to available.

Most expeditions could last for months, trying to find more humans, more medicine, or even mark places where apes had their homes so no one would go near. You had the firearms, but not the manpower to fight them alone.

You never understood the hate your kind had towards the apes, yes, they were now more and had claimed a lot of the land humans once ruled, but they had also healed the land. No humans meant trees and animals were free to repossess what was once theirs, and apes were not using human machines that harm the earth, so everything had regained its balance in a way. Since you were little, you went out of the bunker with a horse, you learned how to fish, how to hunt, how to track and look for things outside, you never understood why you felt more connected to nature than to your own people. 'They never understood' you'd think. ‘They will never see the world as I see it'.

Anyway, all of that wasn't going to change, so you had to take what was given to you and make the most out of it. Lila and you went to Ana, she was distracted with the preparations for the expedition. This time, from what Lila had told you, they were going to look for more survivors and other bunkers to see if those had more medicine.

"Ana, mind if we talk to you for a moment?" Lila asked

"What? Yeah, sure. What's up?" Ana said absent-mindedly while she tripled checked the supplies. It looked like they were going for some months at least.

Lila looked at you and pushed you softly, and nodded at you when you looked back. You took a deep breath and spoke.

"So...Ana, I heard about the expedition and I wanted to know why you hadn’t called for me? You know I'm one of the best people to take in things like that. I can survive pretty well on my own while I'm outside."

Ana sighed and stopped what she was doing.

"Y/N, you know the reason, I need you here, protecting everyone else" She said while putting her hands on your shoulders

"No one ever comes close to this place since we put the electric fence around! Let me go!"

"Y/N" Lila spat at me. "Careful with your words!"

I just stared at her with anger.

"You have absolutely no good reason to not let me go. Please, I can really help if something goes wrong!"

Ana didn't have a comeback for that, she knew what you were saying was right, she knew how helpfull you could be, and still the promise she had made to your mother drilled into her head could not allow you to go with them. You were already in your twenties, now there was no good excuse to tell you to stay and Ana knew this. She sighed again and with a very sad tone agreed to your request. You were going with them, and that was that.

----------‐-----------------

-The next morning-

Ana and Aaron, parents of Kiara, were the ones in charge of this expedition. Samantha, Lila, Carlos, Seth (Samantha's uncle), and you were the rest of the group.

You went to get your stuff ready on Envy, the mare that was meant to be yours, but for some reason you had decided to give her to Kiara, still, she thought of Envy as a shared horse more than her own. Kiar knew how much you loved her, and she didn't mind giving her to you in times like this.

"Take care of each other, ride safely." Kiara said with a smile on her face while petting the side of the mare.

"We will, sis, we'll be back before you know it. Anything special you want me to look for?"

Kiara shook her head. " I just need you to come back to me, that's it."

"Aaww dear, of course I will." You said hugging little Kiara.

You loved her, she was the only one that understood you and never judged you. One day you were going to take her exploring with you, so you could show her everything you loved.

Two weeks passed. Everyone was a little on edge since the news of contact had gotten to you. Apparently, a week ago the satellites started working again and your walkie-talkies that you carried mostly just to feel like you were connected somehow started working again. The people on the bunker told Ana and Aaron that a girl, similar age to you and Lila, had found the missing piece to get satellite connection back on. We knew about the bunker on the east but we had little contact with them and the nomads that were looking for ways to communicate with each other had been murder by a big group of apes, but apparently one of the girls of the nomad group had survived and, with the help of some apes, was able to get to where the main computers where locked and retrieve de disc.

This news had everyone in our group freaked out, it had been a long time since we had been able to communicate over long distances. Some were happy about it, they were thinking that this way we were going to able to rebuilt what was ours, but others were weary of what other humans wanted. 'Humans are selfish and will do anything to get power' Others thought.

Our group tried to maintain calm during all this, we still had to find supplies and medicine that was not going to arrive even if we had connection with other humans. More people meant more food, more space needed and more medicine that we did not have to spare.

At night everyone was silently eating what you had hunted for the day. You were pretty good at using different weapons, but your favorite was the bow and arrow, you almost never missed unless you wanted to. The others had guns, and some knives with them, but most of them knew that using guns out hear meant that everything in a 1km radius or more could hear and pinpoint our location.

"We could've been eating earlier if we had used my gun, I never miss" Samantha spoke showing a cocky grin to you.

You just rolled your eyes at her.

"If we had done your way, every single ape around here would've come looking for us." Seth said calmingly.

Samantha hated it when he agreed with your methods, and you knew it; in a way, it made you proud when he did. He would always be om Samantha's side and agree with her, he never liked agreeing with you, but sometimes he just had to.

"You should be thanking Y/N for her quick thinking. Otherwise, we would've had to eat the dried-up food we brought, and I don't think anybody wanted more of that" Ana said laughing at the end. The rest of the group followed making faces of disgust and laughing at the comment of our leader.

"How long until we get to the big buildings?" Lila asked when everyone had calmed down

"Sadly, I think we'll have to go back. Ana and I have been thinking about it and it's better to be with everyone else at the moment." Aaron answered

"Uncertain times call for unity." Ana added

Seth nodded and kept eating.

You were thinking. The group needed medicine, and other things...maybe a tiny group could keep pushing forward while the adults went back.

"And what if some of us stayed? You said it yourself Aaron, we are a week away from the buildings and we need everything we can find over there. A small group will not be noticed as easily as all of us" you said.

You had a point, and they knew it. After some discussion, the leaders agreed, Lila and you could keep going, the rest was to go back with them. Samantha was going to disagree, but she knew better than to stay with you two. Lila and you were inseparable, and Samantha would only be outnumbered in any decision you made.

The next morning everyone gave you half of their rations for food since you two were going to need them more than them, and then they set off for the bunker.

Lila and you waved at them, and then kept going.

For some time, it was quiet between you two, but Lila was not going to let that be.

"Sooo, wanna race?" Lila said with a sparkle in her eyes.

You knew what that meant. The idea was in her mind, now you could only accept the challenge.

"I mean...It's kind of unfair. Char is not meant for sprinting" you said with a grin.

"And Envy is?" Lila replied

"Oh, I know she's faster that Char." You said, knowing full well that she was fast in short distances and Lila was thinking more of a long-distance race.

"Well, then start! See you at the end!" Lila said kicking softly the side of her mare that sprinted away.

"Hey no fair!" You yelled doing the same with Envy.

You passed trees and creeks so fast you felt like you were going to fall off the horse. Impressively you were just behind Lila and Char, who was galloping with all her might.

You were so enthralled by how fast Char was going that you barely missed a branch that could've hit you down.

Eventually Lila made Char stop. You kept going, but Lila screamed at you to stop.

"What? I thought we were going to end?" You said out of breath riding back to where they were.

"Look up" She said, almost like a whisper.

You did and saw tall buildings in front of you all covered in vines and trees. The trees had broken some of the sediments of the building but were also holding them up. Most of them were broken, and some had collapsed, probably by the sheer size of them.

"Wow, they are amazing" Lila said.

There were rows of them, all conquered back by nature itself. It was beautiful to see how two completely opposite things could come together to create art. All green and grey together forming structures that you had never seen before.

You were both still gawking at the immensity of the buildings when you heard a noise up in the sky. Eagles, huge and magnificent eagles. You had seen some flying around on your own little excursions, but now they were closer than ever.

"Should we follow them?" Lila whispered, this was unknown territory to her, this was more your area of interest.

"Mmm maybe for a while just to see where they take us." You said firmly. " We can also walk and get in some of these buildings to see if we find something" You added.

Lila nodded and dismounted Char, you followed suit. Both of you took the reins of each mare and pulled gently so they kept up with the pace you set.

Three days you walked and searched for supplies with no luck. You tried entering every building you could, but some of them where to destroy to even walk on the floor. Others had entrances that were too high for either of you to climb, and if you did climb the hard part later was going down.

"Thank goodness you came prepared, Y/N." Lila said, struggling while climbing down a rope.

"Don't mention it, just keep going we're almost at the bottom" You said short of breath. You were no stranger to climbing but doing it almost every day for 3 days was taking its toll on you.

Lila let go of the rope and landed on the ground huffing.

"We can't keep doing this, Y/N. It's too tiring. We aren't apes to be climbing around without a care in the world!"

"I know I know, but we've found some good stuff nonetheless" You said as you stretched out after jumping off the rope, you went back and pulled the rope 2 times so it could fall off the makeshift hook you had made to tie it up.

"Some expired painkillers and a bunch of gardening tools is NOT good stuff!"

Lila sighed, even though you’d a nice time sharing this little adventure together you were starting to feel hopeless. Maybe it was time to go back, maybe the others had gotten supplies from the other camp, and you were doing nothing out here but waste time.

"Lila…you can go you know?" You said softly cleaning some arrows that you had used to hunt rabbits earlier.

"What? And leave you here?? Are you insane?!"

"No… I just feel like my time here is not over yet. Yours though…"

"Nu uh, I'm not leaving you alone, we don't even know where exactly we are."

"It's my decision Lila"

"Bullshit! I know you love nature and such, but everyone is waiting for us!"

"Everyone?" You said lowering your head.

Lila didn't answer, she knew that most of the people treated you like an outsider. No one ever told her why, the only reason she could think of wad that you had no family left alive, but that was a cruel way of treating your own kind.

"Fine, I'll take what we found back. What do you expect me to say to the rest when you don't arrive with me huh?" Lila asked

"You tell them half the truth, that I simply didn't want to come back"

"That's the 'half-truth' to you?"

"Ok ok," you said rolling your eyes. " Tell them you begged me to go back, and I said I would keep looking for stuff for a couple more days, then you never met again with me"

"Mmm, alright. So, you got killed?"

"What?! No! Idiot" You said pushing her playfully. Lila just chuckled.

"I'm gonna miss you (Y/nickname)." Lila sniffled while hugging you.

You hugged her back with some tears in your eyes.

"I'll be back before you know it, I promise"

Lila waved goodbye to you while riding Char out of the jungle of buildings, you waved back until you couldn't see her anymore.

After that you kept searching for anything really for a couple of days, until one day the promises you had made to Lila and Kiara were going to be broken.

–----------------------------------------

One day while you were scavenging around in a building you heard noises, noises you hadn't heard before. You took Envy and hid her next to some bushes at the side of a building and tried to keep her relaxed.

As the noise came closer it became clearer: apes.

You never really had contact with them since you were always cradled inside the bunker. The only experience you had was the stories people would tell you, but once you started growing up you stopped believing everything the adults told you.

You were a little apprehensive about the situation at hand but as long as Envy obeyed you, you were sure the apes would pass as quickly as they came.

"You only try to show off when climbing, the other things you just avoid!" A female voice said

"Not true! Anaya never avoids challenges, right Noa?" A male voiced reply

'Anaya and Noa' you made a mental note of the names, not sure why. You heard them walking away so you went out of your hiding place little by little, looking around you just in case you needed to hide from them.

From where you were you could see 3 apes; one had an armband different than the other two. You felt bad spying on them, but your curiosity got the best of you. You kept listening in the conversation, but you also noticed they would sign sometimes and that got lost in translation. The only signs you knew were tactical warfare signs that Aaron had thaught you when you were learning about weapons with Lila and Samantha.

"Soona is right, Anaya always showing off then running away when something goes wrong" The third one spoke, another male. After that the three started making a noise that you could only compare to laugh.

"I'll show you, climb to top to see sunset. First one wins!" The other male said running in all fours and starting to climb the building in front of you with ease.

"Anaya wait!" The female voice shouted but followed right behind him.

The other male chuckled and followed his friends up the building.

You were mesmerized by how athletic and big they were, but something inside you also wanted to follow them so you could see at least one sunset. The past days you've had missed all of them because of the tall canopy, but not today. The renewed strength gave you confidence that you could climb to the top of the building you were hiding behind.

You took your trusty rope and, your bow and some arrows just in case they attacked you and started climbing up. The building that you had chosen was in pretty good state, it still had most of its stairs and you didn't have to jump too far from one part of some broken stairs to another, which would also be handy when climbing down.

About 3 floors from getting to the top, you encountered the biggest problem: no more stairs. They were all broken or looked very unstable, your best option to climb up was the outside of the building. The design made it look like a stair, and if you went a little bit over the edge that was keeping you from falling you could see a metal hook thingy in which you could tie a rope to climb down.

First you made a knot at the end of the rope with just enough space to insert it in the hook, after that you threw that end of the rope with just enough strength to get it to where you needed it. It took you 3 attempts, but eventually you made it and started climbing the rope. Your hands were already tired from days before, but the view would make it all worth it.

Eventually when you were halfway through something made a weird noise. At first you didn't pay much attention to it but then y sounded again and this time you felt the rope moving. The hook couldn't withstand your weight anymore, and you could feel it just pulling down.

You tried to keep taking deep breaths but that was not working, they were faster than before.

*crack*

You looked up and saw the rope sliding off the hook even farther than before, that was when you started panicking. Your breathing wasn't steady anymore and now you were seconds away from falling from the almost top of the building.

A piece of the building where the hook was gave up and you let go of the rope for milliseconds and eventually grabbed the rope but it burned because of the friction, and you screamed in pain.

Noa and his friends, who were happily watching the sunset, looked at each other when you screamed. The three of them looked around for the thing that had made such a horrible sound but couldn't see anything.

You tried climbing up again, but now your hands were bloody from the fall, and you were slipping from the rope. You were in agony.

"Please, not like this, I can't die like this" You said to yourself trying to reassure yourself that you were not going to die.

That's when Noa heard you and looked over the building, he signaled his friends to jump to the other building.

"She will die if we don't help," Soona said with worry.

" What do we do?" Anaya asked Noa.

Noa went to were the rope was tied.

"Please don't kill me!" You shouted, looking up seeing one of the apes.

Noa frowned his face but kept trying to pull you up.

You understood then he was trying to help, but you knew the extra weight on the now unstable floor was not going to help.

"No, let go! You'll make it worse!" You tried to explain with tears rolling down your face. You couldn't stand the pain anymore.

Eventually the rope itself started tearing up, you were about 15 meters from the ground, you knew it was unlikely to survive that fall, your only hope was now with the 3 apes that were trying to help.

You saw the male ape trying, again, to pull you up, but it was useless with the rope tearing, and that's when it happened.

The rope tore apart, and you started to fall, your only hope for surviving was the trees below you would cushion your fall enough for you not to die. The only thing you were able to come up with was using your left arm to cover your neck as best you could.

Silence. Silence followed after your fall. Anaya was the first one to get to you and he poked you with a stick.

Soona quickly took the stick from him and went to check if you were still alive. She saw that you were still breathing thankfully. But your left forearm was completely broken.

"What happens now?" Soona asked Noa.

Noa was not sure what to do, his instincts told him to leave you there to die, after all, you were Echo. You would only mean problems to the clan, but there was another part of him that felt responsible for you and wanted to help you out.

"We take her home, help her wounds. After that, she has to leave." Noa said to Soona.

Soona nodded and took your frail body, and the three friends started their journey back home, back to Eagle Clan.

#noa x human reader #noa x reader #soona #the planet of the apes #noa planet of the apes #noa #planet of the apes #kingdom of the apes #soona pota #anaya

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scrubbinn · 4 months ago

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Mimic HRT: 17 months “Sea legs”

“Did you really need to bring a recorder here? It's an aquarium hun. Do you really plan on interviewing yourself here?”

“It's not that, Abi. I just, with how bad my memory is, I want to make sure I have something to remember this moment.”

“And you chose a recorder instead of a video camera because…?”

“I really want to eat the fish. This way I get to focus on your beautiful voice when I listen back.”

“...Gay.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it? Kiss me maybe?”

“Maybe later. Come on, I want to get to the underwater tunnel before it closes! I know it's Hyper city, but it's really cool to see so many therians here. Back in Canada, I'm lucky if I see one in a week.”

“There's a lot of us, yeah.”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just a little sad is all… Ok ok, I’ll talk, stop making that face, haha It’s just that, yeah there are a lot of us around. Still feels like we never get treated properly. We’re either freaks or walking tourist spots. I know things will get better eventually, but it's. I really wish I could figure out how to shapeshift into a more convincing human."

“You spent how long on this medication and now you're trying to look human again?”

“It's just useful, that's all. Besides, it's not like I have the right to call myself otherkin… Ow! Don't flick me hun, my skin is sensitive, and you could lose a finger!”

“stop overthinking things. Enjoy your time here and if anyone calls you out, then I'll kick their ass.”

“Thanks, but please don't fight anyone for me. No offense, but you're not exactly capable of doing damage to people hun… ow, ok ok stop it, ah! Haha, cut it out!”

“I'm not gonna stop until you start treating yourself better. You're my mimic girlfriend! You get to decide what you are and no one gets to tell you otherwise. Also! You have a bunch of other people here who would defend you like… is that a werewolf over there? Next to the robot and… um.”

“Pretty sure that's a cyborg, and also that looks like a black arms member?”

“Wait, like the-

“Abi, we're currently having a date in an interdimensional dead end, looking at fish that do not exist in our universe, and I'm pretty sure that fish over there is a badnik. It's really not that strange.”

“That's… fair.. I guess… Hey hun, I'm gonna go grab some ice cream real quick.”

“We're half way through the tunnel already. You sure you want to go all the way back?”

“I'll be quick, just stay put.”

Bzzzt, crackle, Welcome to the wonderful world of Hyperquarium! Thank you for choosing us as the one and only place that can bring fish together from around the worlds in perfect harmony! If you look to our left, you'll see our trained feeder get a chance to show off those gills and show you what only a shark therian can do, he's a professional so don’t worry about being bitten kids. This therian knows how to take care of others. This is also a reminder not to touch the glass as you may spook our feeder.

“Ugh, great, just what I needed, feeling insulted over an intercom. Why does getting second hand insulted have to feel worse? I'm definitely cutting this part from the recor- OW, OH STARS, WATCH WHERE YOU'RE… slithering, um, miss, are you ok?”

“Oh- I’m so sssorry I didn’t mean to, I sswear! This tail just gets sso long by now it’s… difficult for me to control at times. I uh… You haven’t seen any other Lamias around by chance? Or some people in brown uniformss?”

“Uniforms? You’re not on the run or something right? And no, I haven’t seen any other Lamias around, You’re actually the first I’ve ever really had a chance to see. I kind of thought I’d see more with how popular you guys are. But seriously are you alright?...

Is- is that a shock collar around you?”

“Well… Yes and no- Yes thisss is a shock collar… okay uh- we’re not suppossed to call them that uh… It’s a.. “behavioral correction device”... But yess it’s a shock collar. And no, I'm not on the run… quite the opposite actually… I had a bit of an episode and lost myself in some instincts when watching the fish… and the next thing I know my group is gone and I'm.. I’m not supposed to be away from the group and… if I don't get back soon I might be in a bit of… ah ssscrew it they’re gonna be mad at me anyway… “

“So then… I know a good hiding spot to watch the fish if you want to hide a bit longer. I mean, if that’s ok, and I won’t get in too much trouble, and you won’t get in too much trouble, and I think I’m stumbling over my words, You want to just go hang out in the jellyfish room? It’s pretty dark there and they don’t allow any kind of outside lights in there.”

“Y-yeah that sounds nice! Low lightss could help with that headache. Uhm, what’s your name if i may assk?”

“It's Mayday, and what about you? What's your name?”

“Ah my name-.. It’s uh… oh wait.. I…hmm…Right! Aria… I think. I… am still not sure if I should change it… it’s uh.. complicated.”

* * *

“The jellyfish are really cool, just floating around with not a care in the world. I guess I get why humans find them so boring, but I think they're just not seeing how nice it would be. You know?”

“I totally get what you mean. Just being able to be you… going with the flow of thingss.. Not a care in the world. But that’s just something that therians like us can fully understand… other than the other animals of coursse right?”

“I'm guessing you're past your own crossroads then, like me, based on your words at least. You wouldn't mind if I asked you some questions would you? It's a bit selfish to ask after dragging you here, but I need to know something.”

“Ah well-... i am still “crossssing” it… doc said it will go on for another month or three… maybe longer they are all very vague about this stuff. But sure, I can try to answer to the besst of my ability.”

“So, what do you think of those that don't take that next step? Like the ones that decide they want to stay human in some way, aren't they cheating or something. Like they got to have their cake and eat it too, isn't it a bit unfair? I mean, look at you, you're getting escorted around in a collar by guards, and then we- they get to walk around with not a care in the world.”

“I don’t think that it’ss cheating… It is my choice to go through with it… and in the end I will be what I alwayss wanted to be… fully in both mind and sspirit. This of course will come with quite a few burdens… I am already forgetting so much that I would have loved to remember… But I alsso gain so much more which is just hard to desscribe. All I can hope for is that I ssomehow end up remembering all the faces of the ones that helped me get sso far… or at least ssome other kind of connection. Those that however stay human to ssome degree have their own struggless to live with. For some it’s never being able to fully control yourself, alwayss having that bit in them that shines through and reminds them that they are sstill “incomplete” which can be a lot on their mind. In the end we all go our own ways, face our own struggless. No sside has it any easier I think than the other, it’s just… different, and you have to choose for yourself which sstruggles you want to deal with in the end. What you yourself think you are able to handle better. For me it was that I was just afraid that I couldn't control the animalistic sside of myself… I could just not live in this sstate i was in, i wanted to fully become me, hoping that it will set me free of the fearsss and anguish that my humanity brings me. But I know what it can cosst me… what it already has… still I weighed my options and decided that this is the best option for myself. But if you think that where you are now is what is the best option for you, then no one should hold it against you, not even yourself… Does that make ssense?

“Wow, call me out huh. I guess I'm not as good at hiding these sorts of things as I thought. I technically went too far before I lightened my dosage. It left me, broken. Things don't feel right for either side, and I have things I just- there are things I can't let go of no matter how much I want this. It's like I'm splitting apart and I can't figure out how to be anything correctly. I'm not really Mayday, I lost all my memories in my first year. It should have been the perfect excuse to continue forward, but then I got to know Mayday's friends and family. And... I liked them, I liked them alot, I love some of them. I barely know them and when I met them for the first time it just felt right and they were crying like I died and. I can't put them through that. Not a second time. This human side of me just won't let go. I'm putting others before my own happiness again. I'm undermining your sacrifice, being a coward. Sorry I'm ruining your trip aren't I. I'll get out of your scales for you.”

“No wait! It’s okay, I’m used to doing thisss… sort of. Uhm sso… before I got put with the other Lamia’s… I was part of a group that… helped each other… there iss someone there that's a lot like you… multiple actually.. While they did not lose their memories… they stayed partly human too.. They did not continue like I did. Anyway, you’re a lot braver than me, I think. You… lost your memoriess and still decided to stay with the ones that love you now and before, I don’t think I could have done the ssame. You’re still happy with them now aren’t you? I mean… the way you said it, it’s not just others happiness at stake but your own too. Sso… heh.. I don’t really know where I'm going with thiss but I think you’re brave.”

I can't believe I'm talking about all this with a complete stranger, solidarity is a powerful thing. Who knows, maybe we did know each other at some point and just forgot. But thanks. It doesn't fix how I feel, but it's a good bandage for now. In the meantime we can watch the Jellyfish together until you're ready to go back… Did you hear that announcement a little while back? Nice to see therians getting hired here but way to not only turn it into another tourist spot, but also insult all of us at the same time. Can you believe they actually said all that?”

“Oh my god yesss! How do you actually manage to be ssupportive and a total a-hole at the same time!? Urgh… It’s not just here though… god the way they sometimes announce our exhibit is just… urgh something about staying on the paths and not getting too close without sssupervision… like-... As if they don’t almosst OVERFEED us before so we aren’t even in the mood to hunt… and then these stupid collarsss too.. Sigh I thought this stuff is to make us get away from the negative ssstigma.. Not FEED into it..”

“Wait, I'm sorry, did you say exhibit? Like as in… you're part of a zoo attraction? Y'know, if I was still human, I would be throwing up at that. Is that why you're wearing a collar?! That can't be legal. Like when you say exhibit, you mean like they put you in walls that you can’t ever leave without people acting like handlers? That's disgusting!”

“Ah-... y-yeah? Well okay, it ssounds bad when put like that but… okay that's uh kinda the best option? It was either… have ssome other person keep me like a pet.. Definitely no, be put into the wilds far away from civilization and be not allowed within a certain disstance of any human civilization… also big nono in my eyes.. or… Join the lamia exhibit in the zoo. I’d still be allowed to see my friends… or, well, have them visit me at leasst… I can help fix the kinda negative view people have of Lamias ssince most think of the evil folklore… or video games… I get to live with others of my kind in a gated community… food is taken care of… healthcare too… kinda… Honestly it was the besst of the options I was given… All I gotta deal with is people looking at uss all day… the stupid collarsss, handlerss… yeah… Maybe one day laws change, that we do not have to sign some legal ownership document stuff and can be free in the city as well… but until then… that’s how it hass to be.”

“I guess I understand, but that just sounds horrible to me. You can put up with a lot, if that’s what you're handling every day. Speaking of, are you going to be ok? Either your guards find us and something bad happens to you, or I jump in and take the blame for essentially kidnapping this zoo's pet. Either option doesn't sound particularly fun. Stars, I thought after finishing this transition I wouldn't have to deal with all this negativity. Somehow Hyper city ended up being just as bad as back home, only it's bad in different ways. This sucks. Is there really no other option that's better? I thought that lamias had intelligence comparable to humans, are your instincts really so strong that you'd endanger humans around you?”

“Don’t worry, they are gonna be quite mad at me, and i’m probably going to have to wait quite ssome time before they allow me my next outside trip… but as long as I sstay put, and don’t get in any situation that could be interpreted as me being a danger… they will probably not use the shock collar when they find me. Well… the besst outcome would have been if at least they put my legal ownership to one of my friendss but… I wouldn't have wanted them to see me sslowly forget who I was and all the other legal stuff it brings with it… not to mention that most of them are therianss on HRT themsself so the state probably would gatekeep that somehow too. And please don’t put the blame on yourself, that would probably give a hefty fine if not jail time… rather leave the option open to see you again at the exhibit than have you banned from it. At leasst then I get visitors I know and like! And as for our insstincts… It’s difficult… yes they can be overwhelming but they get more manageable after the crossroads… At least that's what I heard from a friend. Ssomething about being more aware of them subconsciously. But for our intelligence being comparable to humans, that's true but mix it with our statuss being non human… and laws haven’t developed that far yet… we are basically categorized as animals. And with people being afraid of our fangs, ssnake parts and all that, I don't see it changing soon.”

“Oh that is so gross, I can't believe the universe would let something like that even happen. Sometimes I wish I could just bite anyone who ticked me off. But you're probably right. About everything I guess. I hate the idea of a place like that existing, but I'd rather not get in trouble and not have the chance to talk again. You're strangely nice to talk to, also I don't think I could afford bail if I got arrested. I probably would lose my chance to work with Erian if that happened. Maybe I can do some protesting in front of city hall instead… I also want to ask about that old support group of yours, and also… hm, maybe I shouldn't chew your ear off right. If you don't get into too much trouble, we could meet up to chat more? I'll make today up to you, if the zoo allows it I could get you a plush at the gift shop.”

“Ah-.. uhm… no… trust me that you do NOT want that… it’ss… no… you’ll not forget the taste… ever… *sigh* Anyway thank you that’s nice to hear, you’re also a lot of fun to talk to. A nice change of pace. Protesting could help! Make our voice heard~ I’d love a visit and another chance to talk too! The plushie would be lovely. As for my old ssupport group.. Yeah they are nice, you should really go and talk to them. We have an online presence so jusst look for… Therian THEMS support group! There’s… a… white tiger… her name… uh… damn come on i know thissss… white tiger… and… brown… nghhh… come on COME ON I KNOW their… their namessss i know them…”

“Don't worry, it's fine. I live at THEMS actually, I didn't realize they had a support group. I sort of never checked around, and don't worry, I don't actually bite people… usually. Come on, we can try to sneak over to the gift shop and… um hey Aria, sorry if it's rude to ask but, well it's just a thought is all. Have you had a chance to see what you look like?”

“I-... I’m sssorry it’s… yeah. Yeah let’ss get there… Wait what i look like?... Now that you mention it… I kinda forgot my own face… not really any mirrorss around in the enclosure… we usually help each other with hairstyling and so on. Why do you ask?”

“Would you like to see yourself right now?”

“I… I mean sure? Iss there like a mirror around here or…”

“Supplemental: I had Erian’s help splicing the tapes together, He’s good with old stuff like this. I wanted to add this to better describe the scene. I want no possible chance I will forget this..

Ok, here goes. Descriptor: Morphing like that felt nice, I’d never done anything like that before, but, it just worked out. It felt like body and mind actually agreeing for the first time since I became a mimic. The faint pale glow of the jellyfish felt like it was a radiant sun illuminating not just the room but my shifting form. My mind felt complete. Sharp. Morphing into something with my human remains and mimic self in agreement for the first time. This state of change I went through, this was what I was meant to have. I could feel my legs twist and fuse into a tail that grew longer and longer. Teeth moved from my body and incorporated into fangs and claws. I could feel the chemical reaction inside of me as poison turned to venom. I never looked away, I didn't close my eyes. I just kept looking back at Aria, understanding every crease and shine in her scales. It was then I finally realized how much I had always wanted to be a mimic. This felt correct. The feeling faded eventually, but I knew I had morphed myself into a perfect copy of Aria, because when I looked at her I felt happy. Did the medication somehow know this is what I truly needed? I need more time to think. End supplemental.”

“Thisss- You’re- I- woah! This is uh- I’m sssorry I’m blown away by thiss! This is what I look like!? Wait before that- You’re a shapeshifter? I- Oh my. Thank you! I-... this feels a bit weird to asssk someone that currently looks like my exact twin but-... can i… you know… give you a hug for thisss!? I mean… looking at you it’ss… looking at everything i ever wanted to be I-... sssorry that wass a weird thing to asssk someone i jusst met earlier I-... Thanksss”

“You can give us a hug if you like. We don't mind being ssstrangers. Oh, we do that too, interessting. Eheheh, but yesss, you may hug.”

“Yeah you get usssed to it~ Okay then uh-... here we go. Thank you.”

“I think I hear people coming. I need to change back before any of those guards see two of you. Glad you enjoyed getting to hug a squishier version of yourself. I must feel like a marshmallow. Oh wait, I think my partner is gonna kill me if I leave her waiting any longer.”

“Haha~ I guess we both are going to get our ears chewed off by ssome people. It wass very nice getting to meet and talk to you Mayday, and I hope to see you again! Just… don’t take it to heart if I end up having to assk your name again or… worsse okay? Oh- and if you meet the people from the ssupport group… tell them i sssaid hi.”

“Will do, you better stay safe then, and don’t you dare end up regretting your choice, you got that! Enjoy your new life, and hopefully it won’t just be within a zoo someday. If you ever need to ask my name again, then I’ll be sure to ask yours as well. I look forward to meeting you again Aria the lamia.”

“Yes, I will do my besst to do that. I look forward to meeting you again too, Mayday the Mimic.”

* * *

“Abi, I’m back!”

“Oh my god where were you! I called like eight times! I thought something might have happened to you!”

“Sorry, sorry, I got caught up in a weird situation, I met a new friend I guess. You’d like her. she was really nice… Ok, yeah I’ll make it up to you. Really sorry for making you worry like that. Let’s go out to eat. This place kinda sucks. What about that sushi place you wanted to go to a couple months ago! I’ll pay for it.”

“You seem awfully cheery all of a sudden

“I just figured out who I am. That’s all.”

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Start - Prev - Next

Hey, hope you enjoyed what I think is the longest chapter by far. Normally I try to stick with two pages of text to get something that most people can keep their attention on. Not really possible here.

I'd like to take this time to thank @ariathelamia for collaborating with this chapter. She's so cool and you should go follow her right now. Do it right now. Do not finish reading this part until you double check you are following her and reading her Lamia HRT story!

Anyway, I'd also like to point out the cameos/mentions for Tiger HRT and ??? HRT by @tigergirltail and @home-sweet-hive, respectively. Both are extremely good and give me the inspiration to continue writing this story every single day. This story would have probably stopped around the fifth or sixth part without them. So you should go read those stories right now as well. Do it. Seriously though, thank you so much for reading. Have a wonderful day.

-Navi

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Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315

@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop

#trans #transgender #monster girl #slime girl #slime hrt #animal hrt #species hrt #therian hrt #otherkin hrt #therian #otherkin #fiction writing #original writing #creative writing #Mimic hrt

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problemnyatic · 1 year ago

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maybe internet leftism would be more effective if so much of it wasn't framed in this sneering, shame-on-you language that seems mote intent on guilting people for not being leftist enough than actually extending an understanding hand to people who people who, believe it or not, do actually realize that something is deeply wrong with society despite not being Properly Enlightened And Educated on All Of Leftist Theory as to why.

Yeah, we all post the You Are Not Immune To Propaganda jpeg, but do you still have an internal threshold of propaganda exposure by which others stop being human to you? Do you write off anyone who doesn't already understand the things you do as stupid? Do you understand that to create a genuinely far-reaching movement, you need to be willing to reach people that are substantially different than you and meet them on their level?

Yeah you believe everyone deserves human rights, but do you actually respect the differences in life experince you'll face when engaging with people outside your circle of theory-reading leftists?

And just to be excruciatingly clear: none of these are rhetorical questions. None of these are accusations, and if your response to these questions is to get defensive rather than to self-reflect on whether your practices reflect your principles, I urge you to then ask yourself if your desire to create effective change is being impeded by your apparent need to feel like a "good leftist".

I really, really get feeling frustrated with the world, with how fucking many people seem content to just buy propaganda, with how frustrating and exhausting it is to walk people through the baby steps of what feels like having a very basic grasp of reality. Your outrage is justified and your feelings are very real and deserve to be respected. I'm not here to tone police people expressing their very real anger and grief at the horrible ways global imperialism is hurting us all.

My point here is that, when your goal is to actually inspire others to seek further education on leftist matters, to actually increase the total amount of leftism in the world, you need to be asking yourself if the methods you are using are actually effective. It can feel excruciating to be patient when the world is already so on fire, but you can't just shame people into not needing to be met on their level. It demonstrably does not work, and will work against all of us if the impression you're giving others is that leftism is the mean, scary option even to people who genuinely mean well and want to do better.

I see so many posts rightfully trashing on the widespread culture in the US and beyond of teachers and authority figures simply punishishing people who don't know what they're expected to yet, instead of actually teaching them. I see so many posts on here about how it's okay to need to learn life skills you were never taught. Why does this seem to evaporate when it comes to teaching others leftist theory? That's not rhetorical either, please, really, genuinely ask yourself this question, let it sit with you for a long time.

I know how urgent it is to get people to come around. I'm panicking too. I'm angry, and I'm frustrated, and I'm dumbfounded at how long its taking so many folks to get a fucking grip on what's so broken about society. But I understand that the assertion that the answers should be obvious does nothing to change the fact that, to so many people, to enough people, it isn't. That we need to meet them on their level, with kindness, if we're to get them on our side. Leftism starts at home. It starts with your personal relationships, how you treat others when it's inconvenient and difficult.

Leftism starts with kindness.

#problemnyatic rambles #problemnyatic thoughts #problemnyatic rants

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official-megumin · 6 months ago

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ngl being both a trans woman and intersex kinda fucking sucks.

Because you end in this intersection of both transmisogyny and heavy intersexism.

I can't really look to either the wider transfem community because intersexism is rampant there, but at the same time in intersex communities, AFAB intersex voices just seem so much loud and for AMAB intersex voices to be ignored.

I have come across two other AMAB intersex people on here, and both of them are very quiet about it, I haven't asked why. But I would guess it's because of how we're generally treated.

So even with the prominent intersex voices on here, you'll see the terms TME and TMA be condemned without nuance.

Because yea obviously they don't cover the wide spectrum that is human sex, but proveably it still is very very useful, because even in intersex spaces, transfems are smothered and not given space to talk. I have come across a lot of AFAB intersex people very in favor of AFAB people to be able to use trans fem as a label, and when it's used by specifically intersex AFAB people, I very much do not mind.

But where my opinion tends to differ, is that I do not think perisex AFAB people should use it.

I have only met one outspoken intersex woman on here, and still due to being afab. She was not barred needed access to gynocological care like I have been. So the clearly there are still differences in how we experience and interact with the world, because the world does not accept that sex isn't binary. It will latch on to the most minute differences to label us.

So with me being outwardly male, despite likely having full internal female sex organs, and developing classically female. I was still denied womanhood in ways that AFAB intersex people despite still very much being denied womanhood, don't experience.

I have many times trying to voice my opinions and feelings of overreach as an intersex trans woman, and I've always been ignored in favor of intersex people who haven't experienced being expected to be male.

And for those experiences I have been labelled a transmedicalist. Despite making it very clear that I don't care at all how you transition.

I simply want people to understand that some words have long histories that can't and shouldn't just be waved away. It can't be right that us telling you that you're overstepping boundaries and disrespecting us, is met with accusations of hate.

Just please give us space to voice our frustrations and let us talk about being stepped over, listen to us.

I just want one damn space I can feel understood and listened to in. Is that too much to ask for?

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anonymousewrites · 7 months ago

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One Hell of a Love (Book 3) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon!Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a College

Summary: Ciel is given a new assignment, and Sebastian and (Y/N) find a way to blend in at Weston College.

Mouse Note: We're jumping right into the plot! Also, MC and Sebastian as a couple looooove to, you know, be in love. Writing them makes me blush. But, welcome back to One Hell of a Love! I had a ton of fun writing the Public School Arc. I have no idea if my updates will get ahead of the anime so just be wary of that (I read the manga so sometimes I am unsure). But please enjoy, feel free to comment (it's encouraged because it helps me stay motivated), and welcome back to the series!

“Hello, darling,” said Sebastian, smiling at (Y/N) as he finished plating Ciel’s afternoon tea. On the tray lay a letter from the Queen, the seal easily recognizable.

“My love,” said (Y/N), letting him pull them in for a light kiss. “Sneaking kisses in the halls? How scandalous.”

“But you tempt me so,” said Sebastian with a smirk. “How can I resist?”

(Y/N) let out a light laugh before turning around to walk with him towards Ciel’s office. Since their confession, the pair of demons had been quite satisfied together. They doubted the humans knew they were together, but they didn’t care. Their connection was different than humans’, their relationship didn’t follow the rules set by the ruling class.

Besides, (Y/N) and Sebastian were singularly minded demons. Sebastian still had a job to do, and (Y/N) was entertained enough to continue helping him. Having a relationship merely added to their enjoyment of existence together in the otherwise monotonous, dull living and contracts.

What was a little fun with the demon they love if not adding spice to existence?

Sebastian knocked lightly on Ciel’s office door, and Ciel acknowledged their arrival. (Y/N) opened the door, and Sebastian rolled in the cart. Pleased with himself as usual, Sebastian announced the day’s tea and cake combination. He also offered Ciel the letter from the Queen, but Ciel opted to eat his sweet treat before attending to business. Sebastian and (Y/N) suppressed amused smirks at Ciel pushing back work in favor of treats.

Finaly, Ciel unsealed the letter.

“ ‘To my dear boy,’ ” he read. “ ‘The Campania incident was a frightful calamity. Have you already recovered? Are you enjoying your Easter? For my part, though Easter is here at long last, I find myself unable to whole-heartedly enjoy the holiday as there is something that weighs upon my mind.

“I am worried about Derrick, the son of my cousin Duke Clemens. Derrick is in the fifth form at Weston College. But for some reason, it seems he has not returned home since last summer. He used to write home every day, but his letters abruptly stopped as well…The anxious duchess has called at his house, but he refuses to return home and so on. If it was Derrick alone, we might chalk it up to a rebellious phase. However, other students have also not returned home. I wonder what in the world could have brought about this behavior.

“Because his only son is acting thusly, Duke Clemens continues to lose heart…The whole affair has me very concerned indeed. I pray my loved ones can enjoy Easter in high, peaceful spirits as soon as possible. Victoria.’ ”

Sebastian considered. “So, in short, Her Majesty has charged you to investigate the reason why students have failed to return home from Weston College.”

Ciel nodded. “Public schools are independent institutions that refuse all government intervention, so it’s hard to lay a finger on them. Rather, those involved with the school don’t want to publicize their internal circumstances by making waves.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “Worrying about appearances even at a time like this. My, my, this is why humans are so tiring.”

“You understand vanity quite well,” said (Y/N), smirking.

“I am one hell of a butler,” said Sebastian. “Of course I must act accordingly.”

(Y/N) simply looked at him in amusement.

Nearly rolling his eyes at their obvious flirting—Ciel was not nearly as oblivious as the other servants—Ciel spoke. “I’d like someone to infiltrate the school, but Weston usually only lets in the sons of aristocrats. Those with titles are few, and I’m acquainted with most of them. If it comes down to sneaking in, a disguise would be dangerous.”

“So you will go as yourself?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

“I have no choice,” said Ciel, taking a sip of his tea. “And I certainly wouldn’t mind having the Queen in my debt. The problem lies not in whether or not there’s an open place at Weston.”

“If there is none, you simply need to make one,” remarked Sebastian with a light smirk.

“I’ll handle the investigation within the school,” said Ciel. “Sebastian, (Y/N), you will have to support me without being discovered yourself. How you go about it is up to you.”

Sebastian and (Y/N) bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

(Y/N) knew that that order—“up to you”—would be put to good, entertaining use.

“What is our plan for assisting the Young Master?” said (Y/N), sitting down in the library of the Phantomhive Mansion.

“You do not think we will simply lurk in the shadows until needed?” said Sebastian. “It would give us quite a few private moments.”

“As lovely as that possibility is, I suspect you have more planned,” said (Y/N), leaning their head on their hand with a sharp grin.

“Perceptive as ever,” said Sebastian, pleased at (Y/N)’s acumen. “I feel we can better keep an eye on the situation and gather our own information as housemasters.” As adults in the college, they would be able to go places at times students weren’t—imperative for investigations.

“Playing professors?” (Y/N) considered. “I haven’t done that yet, and I rarely play a masculine role. It sounds fun.”

“I’m certain you’ll do wonderfully,” said Sebastian. “And I look forward to seeing in a more masculine role.” He knew for damn sure he’d be just as attracted to them no matter what form they took—he loved who they were, not their appearance. That meant little to demons.

He tilted his head. “However…we should try to craft the proper disguise for your role.” Sebastian put his hand on his chest. “I have the perfect outfit for myself, but we shall have to see how you look.”

“I can look masculine,” said (Y/N).

“You can,” agreed Sebastian. “But I want you to look dashing, not just masculine.” He smirked. “Come alone, darling.”

“You’re doing this to play dress up,” said (Y/N), smirking as they stood to follow him.

“Or to undress you,” said Sebastian.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Positively gluttonous~”

“I think robes would add to the outfit,” said Sebastian as he finished buttoning (Y/N)’s vest.

They rolled their eyes. “I can’t wear a professor’s robes until I am hired. This is enough, I’m sure.”

They wore a dark grey button-up with black pants, a black vest, a tie, and a coat overtop (which would become robes if hired). Around (Y/N)’s neck hung a silver cross. Some religious figures would claim the demons wouldn’t be able to handle the holy symbol, but they would be wrong. Unless being used with some sort of religious or divine magic, they were fine wearing it. In fact, (Y/N) and Sebastian knew that being religious would help them get the jobs as housemaster and assistant—they’d be seen as intelligent, well-rounded individuals.

“You do look quite handsome,” said Sebastian, brushing a hand over (Y/N)’s hair fondly. They had altered it slightly, too, in order to fall in a traditionally masculine style (the length would never matter, though, since men like Viscount Druitt were as respect as Lord Midford, it was just the styling to present more masculine). “However, we could run a test.”

“Go on,” said (Y/N), smirking. They were looking forward to learning what Sebastian was suggesting.

Sebastian stepped out of the room and called down the hall. “Mey-Rin, come here, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Sebastian!” said Mey-Rin, running down the hall. She, unsurprisingly, tripped, but Sebastian caught her and set her upright before she could knock anything over.

“Really, Mey-Rin, you must be more careful,” tutted Sebastian.

“S-Sorry, I am,” said Mey-Rin sheepishly, red as usual.

“Now that you’re here, I need you to see someone,” said Sebastian.

“Is it a guest?” said Mey-Rin nervously.

“If you’d like to classify them as so,” said Sebastian, his words avoiding a lie with practiced ease. He stepped to the side, and (Y/N) stepped into their masculine role.

“Hello, Mey-Rin,” said (Y/N), smirking.

Mey-Rin’s eyes widened, and a heavy blush appeared on her cheek’s like it did when she faced Sebastian. Obviously, she found this masc form of (Y/N)’s quite attractive (and who could blame her?)

“Oh, uh, sir, uh, h-hello! Nice to meet you!” She bowed awkwardly and ran off.

(Y/N) watched her in amusement. “I barely changed my form, and yet that’s the reaction I got.” They smirked at Sebastian. “I think this disguise will work perfectly. Humans always do love a nice face and figure~”

“They do indeed,” said Sebastian.

“And I know another being who likes to look at me,” teased (Y/N).

Sebastian smirked with sharp teeth, not caring in the slightest to look away.

“Now that we have our plans,” said (Y/N), continuing on, “We should ensure there are…job openings for us.” They glanced at Sebastian. “Don’t you agree?”

“Indeed,” said Sebastian. “I’m sure there will be an opportunity quite soon.”

They shared devilish grins which promised murder. They were going to have fun at Weston College.

“Heave-ho!”

The students of Sapphire Owl House threw their arms up, and Ciel was tossed up by the white sheet. It was an unusual welcome party (though Ciel had worried about hazing), but Weston College was already proving a bit…strange anyways.

“Well, how do you like the traditional welcome of our house?” said Clayton, grinning. “Devote yourself to your studies all the more as a member of Sapphire Owl house, do you hear? Okay! Toss him higher next. One, two—”

“What is the meaning of all this racket?” snapped an authoritative voice.

“Dash it all!” cried one boy.

“It’s the Housemasters!” said another, freezing as they realized they were caught.

Ciel rolled haphazardly from the sheet to the ground with a yelp.

“Clayton,” said a second calm, though commanding, voice. “An upperclassman such as you is involved in this? I’m ashamed.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Well, er, this is our house tradition…” said Clayton, formal as ever but a bit hesitant.

“My, my, tradition is all well and good, but try not to overdo it.”

Ciel looked up while someone knelt before him.

“So you’re the new Phantomhive boy.” (Y/N) smiled at him with a hand outstretched. “Hello, I am Assistant Housemaster Noir.” Now their outfit was completed with robes instead of a jacket.

“And I am Housemaster Michaelis,” said Sebastian, dressed in his own set of housemaster robes. His hair was pushed back, and glasses balanced on his face. He smiled. “Welcome to Sapphire Owl House.”

Ciel’s eyebrow twitched. So this was how they planned to get in to Weston College. Ciel hated Sebastian as a teacher, and now he was stuck with him.

Demons.

Ciel, Sebastian, and (Y/N)’s time at Weston College commenced and was as British as it could be. It was a highly regulated school that raised its students into diligent workers and well-rounded men while also catering to aristocrats. Now, they tried to teach diligence by having the boys do certain chores occasionally, but when Ciel had to clean the dining hall…It of course became Sebastian and (Y/N)’s chores instead of Ciel’s.

“Sebastian,” he called, pulling off his eyepatch.

In an instant, Sebastian appeared beside him, and (Y/N) only took a moment longer to follow Sebastian.

“Right here,” said Sebastian.

“Already calling upon help? My, not even a day has passed,” said (Y/N).

Ciel ignored the teasing and faced them with his hands on his hips. “It seems that Derrick has been transferred to another house.”

“We did check the student roll and found the same information,” said Sebastian, flipping the clipboard paper over. “His name is on the list of Violet Wolf residents.”

“An abrupt change,” said (Y/N). Their nose twitched. They didn’t trust it.

“He should be at his house now,” said Ciel. “I’ll go there directly, so you tidy up here.”

“Very good, sir,” said Sebastian, bowing as Ciel ran out of the room.

“Now, then,” said (Y/N), taking off their long robes and surveying the mess in the dining room. “To work, Sebastian?”

“To work,” confirmed Sebastian.

He smirked. They were about to clean this room so well that it would be inhuman. (Poor Ciel was going to be heralded as an excellent cleaner and be asked to do it more often. He’d hate that, and what was Sebastian to do if not make some small irritation for his master?)

Sure enough, once the dining room was spotless and Ciel had returned (unsuccessful) from Violet Wolf, he was giving great praise by Clayton at the amazing job he’d done cleaning.

“Mr. Michaelis, Mr. Noir!” said Clayton as he spotted the housemasters. “Please feast your eyes on the dining hall! Phantomhive put it in order.” He patted an irritated, exhausted Ciel on the shoulder.”

“Nice work, Phantomhive,” said Sebastian with an innocent smile while Ciel glared at him.

“Truly an excellent job,” said (Y/N).

“You, too, sirs,” said Ciel, gritting his teeth. Then, he paused. He could use this to his advantage. He needed to get close to the Prefects, and since Clayton was Bluewer’s Drudge…he needed to get close to Clayton.

“I’m very glad to hear that my work pleases you so!” said Ciel, suddenly grinning brightly. He put on a performance of boyish gratitude and eagerness. “You see, I’m actually quite good at housekeeping and such!” He saluted. “So, please, Clayton, consider me at your service whenever you need aaanything done.”

What a brat, offering up our services, thought (Y/N). That being said, his manipulation of others was entertaining. They supposed it was a fair tradeoff.

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