#but here is my idea for a more somber ending | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

byexbyez · 7 months ago

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love me more | leon kennedy x f!reader

pairing: re4r!leon kennedy x f!reader

summary:

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

word count: 19k

warnings: 18+ towards the end, angst, yearning, marriage of convenience but there isn't a tangible convenience, strangers to spouses dynamic, grief/mourning, depictions of depression and low self-esteem, also trauma and anxiety, family issues, kinda touch-starved leon if you squint, domestic fluff if you try hard enough, non-linear and vague timeline, mentions of canon typical violence, alcohol and cigarette consumption, p in v smut, brief alternation of POVs, ada wong mention, suicidal thoughts, minor original character, minor character death, spoilers to the hunchback of notre dame, no use of y/n

notes: meant to post this on tumblr after i was done with it but that never happened so here, have it. took me 16 months to post it here lmao. english is not my first language. you have been warned. also beware of a whole lot of mitski and hozier references. enjoy!

➵ read on ao3.

PART I | PART II | PART III (finale)

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And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved

Me and my husband We're doing better

—Me and My Husband, Mitski

It’s quiet. It has always been that way from the start. Your husband is late, which is not unusual. You sit in the somber light coming from your living room TV. You don’t like the overhead lights, which explains the abundance of lamps around the living room and bedroom in your home. Your husband found it strange that you never turned on the actual lights but it didn’t take him long to realize that you were right. Any kind of overhead light was annoying to him now. He blamed you for his headaches at work.

No matter how many times you told him that he could turn on the overhead lights he insisted that he did not like them anymore. “I like it like this,” he had said. “You’re right, it’s cozier this way.” His head was on your knee, his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful. You wanted to brush his hair away from his face and maybe scratch a bit as if he was a cat. But you didn’t, you had no idea what he would react like to such an intimate gesture. You turned your gaze away from his peaceful sleeping face to the TV you had been watching on low volume before he stepped through your home’s front door.

It was a fucking joke, really. Thinking twice, three times about touching the man that you call your husband.

You hear his keys jumble from the door. He didn’t tell you what time he would be home, so you didn’t prepare anything for dinner. It’s late anyways. You consider closing your eyes and resting your head on the back of the couch but it hasn’t been long since he told you he could tell when you were not sleeping. You thought about the number of times you pretended and he could tell. Embarrassing. Now that your secret was out, you had to greet him awkwardly.

He calls your name. “Are you asleep?” His voice very faint.

“No,” you answer while untucking your legs from under your butt. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He places the keys on the keyholder. “No lights?”

You reach to your side and turn on one lamp. “I didn’t realize the sun had set.”

“It’s past eleven.” Now that the lamp was on you could see his worried eyes. His five o’clock shadow prominent. “Did you eat anything?” he asks. You can’t tell if he hopes you did or not.

The moment you see the plastic bag in his hand, you shake your head no. Honestly, you were hungry because it had been hours since you ate a bowl of cereal as dinner.

He steps over your legs instead of pushing the coffee table away to make room for himself and plops next to you on the couch. “Brought Chinese,” he says and places the food bag on your lap instead of the coffee table. “You like their fried dumplings.”

You aren’t surprised that he remembers it. He was nice like that, maybe he thinks this is the least he can do. Soon after the wedding, he realized you did not enjoy cooking. It has never been a problem, he knew his way around the kitchen and knew of really good takeout places.

“Thank you,” you say softly while leaning on the table to place the noodles and the dumplings. “Leon, did you drink?” you ask when you catch a whiff of him.

“Yeah, I’m a little tipsy.”

That explains his lax attitude. He has his arm around you across the back of the couch, he’s sitting close to you. It’s because he wants to eat, you say to yourself. And he’s a little tipsy.

“Did you have fun?” you ask when you separate your chopsticks.

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he says, watching you separate his chopsticks for him. “I had a drink by myself.”

“Only one?” you chuckle.

“One or two,” He cocks his head to your direction and grabs the chopsticks from your fingers. His fingertips are warm.

Unlike you, his body always runs hot. You remember the comment he made when he held your hand and cupped one cheek, kissing you after you two had said “I do”. His breath was hot on the lower part of your face. You somehow felt him everywhere and nowhere at once. “It’s really hot, why are your hands cold?” he had whispered. It was unusually hot on the day you eloped. Leon had to dab his sweat away so often.

“I’m just nervous,” you had whispered back. The hand that he was not holding was trembling, surely, he could tell.

“No need to be.” That was what he said right before your first kiss. It was more of a short peck because he was a gentleman who didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

It was easier for him to say, he didn’t have anything to be nervous about. He looked really beautiful that day and it didn’t help your nerves one bit. You felt like you were committing a crime while signing your documents that sealed the fact that you were now married to Leon Kennedy. You wonder if he felt the same, knowing this marriage was not a real one.

You didn’t lie to anyone really, so why did it feel like you did? You never told anyone you were in love. You never told anyone this was legit. You just told your sister you were married and that Leon was a good man. She had shrieked over the phone, demanded that you quit joking. The moment she was convinced that you were not, she expected pictures of him. The only picture you had of him was from the day you eloped. He had taken your cold hand and placed it on his arm. His other hand on his stomach so he didn’t look awkward. You had raised your small bouquet of baby’s breath to your torso as well. You did not look as nervous as you thought when the photo came in the mail but Leon looked more handsome than you remembered. You emailed it to your sister.

It didn’t take long for her to respond. How the hell did you bag that man??? Do you have blackmail material against him?

We met at work, you replied shortly.

I thought you worked with dudes that are old as fuck.

We don’t work together. Met through a coworker.

Maybe I should change careers. I mean how hard can it be to train as a government agent???

You looked at the multiple question marks she sent after that. I’m telling your husband.

I showed him the picture and he agrees that he’s hot lol. He also would like to have you guys over.

So you both can ask him what he sees in me?

Hey, I’m only joking. We would really like you guys to come over. I want to meet my brother-in-law.

I’ll tell him but he’s very busy.

Sooo what does he do?

Like I said, he’s an agent. Mostly confidential work.

So you can’t tell me?

I really can’t.

You know what? It’s annoying that you can’t tell me what he does but I can understand. What I can’t understand is you getting married. Out of the blue. Without telling me.

That email left a bitter taste in your mouth. She could tell that it was not real. She knew that you were not easy to love. She knew it was impossible for you to get married. That’s why you stalled her invitation for nearly two years. You hadn’t even asked Leon because you did not know how he would react. He knew you had a sister across the country and that she was older than you but never asked about her for a while. You weren’t offended at his uninterest in your life. He didn’t have any reason to be interested in you.

He did say he was an orphan, that one time.

It all made sense after that, he didn’t like to talk about families. Maybe because he wasn’t used to belong. To belong to a family. Belong to someone. Think about them because he belongs to them and they belong to him.

All things considered, you thought Leon turned out more than okay. Closed off but very kind, gentle, understanding.

He leans forward and helps you split one dumpling into two with his chopsticks. His shoulder bumps yours and stays there because he refuses to let go of the back of the couch behind you. When you pull your sleeve over your fingers, he quickly eats one whole dumpling, leaving you with the smaller one that he helped you split and covers your hand with his.

“You cold?” He looks silly when he stuffs his face full of food.

“No.”

“Your hands are cold.” He doesn’t’ say like always but it’s there in his voice.

He doesn’t mind touching you when he’s in a good mood, mostly when he’s a little intoxicated like this. Usually, he’s not a touchy person. You’re glad he’s not, it reminds you that you definitely like him more than he likes you. He needs the little nudge of alcohol to let go of his inhibitions. He didn’t touch you until you gave him the green light on your birthday. He didn’t know what to get you as a gift so he got you yellow roses and the blandest birthday card known to man.

Happy Birthday, from Leon.

“It isn’t anything special, I know.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

But it was special, it was from him; with his emotionally constipated, probably unintended curt message. You knew deep down he had a big heart. He cared enough to stop on his way to get you these. You didn’t think much, because there were times when you didn’t need to think about this, you just reached and hugged him around his waist. “Thank you,” you whispered. “They smell really nice. We need to get a vase for them.”

He finally put his arms around you and you felt the stiffness of his shoulders on top of yours. It was six months into your married life.

Yellow roses. He saw you as a friend. You were okay with it, as long as it meant he was not pushing you away. You were not terrible by any means. Boring and awkward, definitely. But you made it clear to him that he could talk to you about what he wanted when he wanted. He was adamant that it went both ways. However, you genuinely don’t think anything going in your life is worth talking about. Hence, he’s the one who ends up talking most of the time.

He rubs your fingers to bring them warmth. The air of the living room feels awfully similar to that one time he surprised you and laid his head on your lap. That one time you wanted to play with his hair but didn’t. It was just like this. Quiet despite the TV’s low volume, comfortable as the light coming from the lamps was soft on the eyes, smelling of alcohol as he was a little drunk. Unsure as your hands were cold and was this what being friends meant?

Sometimes he craved the quiet. He worked and worked and worked. Voices everywhere. Danger constant. His only quiet was home, you suppose.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

“I ate cereal,” you answer him.

“Has no nutritional value whatsoever,” he mutters.

“Yeah, it’s just me being lazy.”

“I don’t think we have anything in the fridge, I don’t blame you.”

You both finish your food in silence, you pretend to watch the screen in front of you the whole time. You hug your knees to your chest when you’re done and he looks like he can fall asleep any minute.

“How was your day?” you ask to keep him awake. You don’t want him to sleep here and have his back and neck all sore tomorrow.

He rests his chin on his shoulder and gives you a funny look through his long lashes. “Same as always.”

You admit to yourself that you love him like this. He seems free, happy even.

You decide to be bold and tap your shoulder for him to lay his head on.

He doesn’t seem to be thinking twice as he takes your offer and nuzzles his head on your shoulder. He’s taller and bigger than you, you suppose the position he’s in right now is not comfortable for him. He reaches back around the couch and the other hand crosses his abdomen, gripping your ankle that he is closest to. His thumb draws circles there and your brain short circuits. “How was yours?”

“My day? Nothing exciting. All paperwork.”

He hums as he squeezes your ankle, his hair tickling your nose and lips.

“You really need a shower, Leon.” You make up the courage to smooth down his blonde hair that is sticking up in every direction.

He hums again. “Are you telling me I stink?”

“Yes, mister.”

“I’m tired,” he groans but doesn’t seem tired enough as he pushes his head and messes up your balance on the couch. You have to hold on to the arm rest as he keeps nudging you with his head.

“You’ll feel gross in the morning if you don’t have a shower.”

“You have a point,” he says but does nothing to get up. Maybe it was a bad idea to offer him your shoulder and unknowingly, your ankle. He’s never acted like a kid like this before.

You get up and turn off the TV before you offer him both of your hands. “You’re not tipsy, you’re drunk. Now get up and wash yourself please.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, you are. You headbutted me.”

He takes your hands and finally gets up. “I think I ran out of shampoo.”

“You can use mine. Brush your teeth while I go get it.” You pat his back.

There’s two bedrooms in the house, one is for guests but you’ve never had guests over since you’ve both moved into this apartment. Leon uses the “guest” room downstairs. He insisted that you take the bigger room. He’s more like a roommate than a spouse.

He’s shirtless in front of the sink, brushing his teeth like you told him to when you knock on his bathroom door and hand him your shampoo. He reads the fragrance and opens its cap to smell it.

“Well, you smell nice so I can’t complain,” he says, toothbrush still in his mouth, dribbling toothpaste everywhere.

You love him in moments like these. This is the moment the wife reaches and kisses the husband. Well, maybe after he’s done dribbling everywhere but you know how this moment should go about. He won’t be like this in the morning. You know very well that he is going to be sober and back to normal Leon. He won’t say anything about his drunk self because he knows you won’t as well.

“Don’t fall in the shower!” you shout as you go upstairs to your room.

“I’m not that drunk!”

The next morning, he sees you making coffee in the kitchen. It hasn’t been long since your schedule got aligned with his. He wonders how the hell you managed to adjust your sleeping hours to the point now you could wake up before him. He used to wake up before you because you often had late shifts.

“Morning,” he says as he smells the delicious coffee that you’re pouring into two mugs. He yawns, scratching an itch on his arm. He did not use to have a coffee machine back when he was living alone. You had brought it with you to this house and saved him from Starbucks’ morning rush hour.

You slide one of the mugs in front of him and give him a warm smile. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

He blows on the coffee before he takes a sip. “Much better now.” He clears his throat, his morning voice gruff. “I was thinking… We should commute together.”

“To work?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Where else?” he snorts. “What’s surprising? Why pay more for gas when we start work at the same time?”

“Wouldn’t that be…”

“It wouldn’t interfere with anything if you think about it. It’s stupid to take both cars to the same place.”

“I might work overtime,” you say and hug yourself.

He nods into his mug and seems like he wants to say more. “Then you can take your car. You’ve just started normal hours. Why are you eager to tire yourself out so quickly?”

So that we don’t have to be awkward around each other.

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

It is what you repeat to yourself over and over again. It was convenient to have slept with him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. You were lonely. You reckon he had to be, too. Because why else would he want to have sex with you? He did not love you or anything. You could only think of one thing when his face was buried in your neck. You still had his yellow roses. You had preserved them between your book pages.

As he was panting above you, hands grasping your hips with vigor, your thighs caging him in and burning, you felt like a rose stuck between thousands of words never read aloud. Yellow all over, sticking out like a sore thumb between words printed in the smallest font size possible, suffocating. Once belonged with other flowers but now settled down in a place where people thought you’d look pretty.

You hate the color yellow as much as you hate the word convenient. If not, more.

He sees you wince. He cannot guess the reason behind it is his choice of words. “What do you say?”

He is offering, you think. He still likes you enough to ask.

“Okay.”

“Good, we need to get groceries on the way back.”

People don’t whisper much now that it’s been nearly two years since you two announced to your close work circle that you were married. There were a lot of surprised faces at first, thinking maybe Leon was joking or something. People didn’t know you very well. You were only close with Cathy.

“Perhaps we should wear rings,” said Leon once over dinner. “People don’t believe we’re married.”

“Is that a problem? What others think, I mean?”

He stared at your face while chewing, you couldn’t make out what he was thinking thanks to the dim light emanating from one of the lamps. “They think it’s a joke. Is it so bad that I want to be taken seriously for once? You wanted a wedding dress, I want a ring.”

“When do you want to get them?”

That led to you choosing matching rings with Leon. Simple gold bands. You make sure to wear them to work every day because if you don’t, you worry people will start to whisper again.

First it was, Leon’s not the type to get married, he’s taking the piss out of us, is it April fools today?

Then it turned into: Oh God, he’s serious, he says he got married last weekend.

Eloped? To whom?

He said her name but I don’t remember it, said she’s in archives now.

He’s married to an archivist? How on earth did they meet?

Probably in Donovan’s funeral, saw Hunnigan introducing them.

That wasn’t long ago!

I know, right?

You know some of them thought you had a one-night stand and got pregnant from him. The rumors subsided when that didn’t turn out to be true.

However, people were curious about why Ingrid Hunnigan would introduce an archivist to an agent. It didn’t take long for your name to become known because you had recently switched departments. You had been a systems analyst like Hunnigan, working with late Cathy Donovan. You’d switched to archives after her funeral.

People greeted you when they saw you. Leon’s wife, right?

Yes, but not really.

The first time Leon ever saw you was during agent Donovan’s funeral. He’d gotten back from Spain just a week ago. He did not know agent Donovan well but her name echoed in every corner. She was good at her job. Most of the time, nobody had an idea what she was up to.

“Leon, I want you to meet Cathy’s partner,” said Hunnigan, holding the shoulder of the woman standing next to her.

You stuck your hand out for him to shake and told him your name. It sounded disconsolate coming from your mouth, your own name. Your eyes were dazed, you kept your mouth in a thin line. You didn’t even look at him properly as if this was the hundredth occurrence today, Hunnigan introducing you to someone.

“I’ve heard a lot of great things about agent Donovan.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Right, she was great,” you said, your eyes straying elsewhere. It looked like Hunnigan’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing keeping you from crumbling down. You looked so small with your shoulders hunched forward. He cringed when he saw you rip out the flesh of the side of your thumb.

Hunnigan went on about Cathy Donovan’s accomplishments to him. You continued to pick at your thumb, him watching your side profile as you kept averting your gaze from people around you. You seemed to be dissociating hard.

“These two were inseparable. I tried asking Cathy to work with me on a small mission once and she praised her so much in turn, I had to suck it up and meet this woman myself as soon as possible,” said Hunnigan heatedly. “I’m such a big fan of Cathy’s, you see, I couldn’t be upset. I love seeing her work with the best.”

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you managed to say, a beat too late. “I need to use the restroom, be right back.”

Leon knew too well that losing someone was difficult, yet he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. He furrowed his brows the moment his hand made contact with your upper arm. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, he didn’t want to seem like he took pity on you.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

You made the effort to look him in the eye when it was obvious as day that you were having a hard time keeping your head up.

Your voice barely came out, “Thank you.”

Of course, you did not recognize him the second time he saw you. It was his late celebratory dinner for his mission in Spain. His coworkers had planned a small one, saying he deserved it. Once he was done with his food, he excused himself saying he wanted to get fresh air.

Not too far from the restaurant, you were sitting on a bench alone.

“Those things will kill you, y’know,” he said, eyes pointing to the cigarette you were smoking.

His unexpected voice caused you to jump in your seat. You quickly put the cigarette out by stomping it with your shoe. “I don’t usually… smoke.”

He dragged his feet while walking to sit down on the opposite end of the bench. “You didn’t have to put it out.” Though he thought you were very considerate by doing so.

“Congratulations, for the mission.”

“Thank you— name’s Leon, by the way.”

You stuck your chin out to the direction of the restaurant, “Or so I heard in there.”

“We actually met before. At the funeral.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t remember half the people I met there.”

“No need to be sorry. You seemed out of it.”

“Yeah, we worked together for a long time, Cathy and I.”

“Look, I know it’s hard and anything I say probably won’t make any difference—”

“You don’t need to—” Your voice quite literally got stuck on your throat, you composed yourself by bringing the side of your fist to your mouth and coughed into it. “I’m trying to get better. I’m here today, which is a miracle in of itself. I know people think it’s probably good to talk about her but I’m just not in the mood, okay? Thank you for your understanding but I don’t need to be reminded, it happened not so long ago.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, I know you mean well.” You started to sway your feet on the gravel. It was completely understandable for you to lash out but you seemed uneasy as soon as it was out of you. “Sorry, this is your happy day. I shouldn’t—”

“You realize how many times we said sorry to each other in this past minute?” he laughed. “Also, I lost a partner in Spain. I’m not that happy today.”

Your voice turning faint, seemingly regretting your flash of anger a moment ago, “You probably feel like you shouldn’t be happy.”

He nodded. “He helped me a lot but didn’t make it.” He saw your mouth open and stopped you there. “Don’t say you’re sorry. It loses its meaning when you say it too much.”

“Even if I mean it with my whole heart every time?”

“That means you’re sorry for a lot of things. It’s not healthy to carry that much weight on your shoulders.”

“Right, I’ll be like Quasimodo.” You hunched your shoulders even more forward. “Like the hunchback.”

“From the Disney movie?”

You giggled at his childishness. “Yeah, I heard there’s also a book about it.”

He looked at your squinted eyes and thought you deserved to be happy more.

As you two carried on your now meaningless conversation, he did not know that you were certain on resigning from your job and never turning back to it. You’d started to work on the archives that week, partly because your boss had foreseen you contemplating quitting all together and did not want to lose a highly valuable member such as yourself and partly because you had requested it.

At that point, you were absolutely aware of the fact that they feared you’d never turn back to your former position. And because Cathy didn’t have any plans of ever becoming alive, you also didn’t have any plans on returning. But you knew the reason behind them doing anything you asked was them giving you time to grieve. After that, the pressure would build even more and hopefully make you take your old place.

“It was Hunnigan’s idea,” you said to Leon after he asked you very kindly why you were here tonight. “Basically dragged me here. She thinks I should be around people more.”

“She’s right. I’m glad you came.”

Leon was cute, alright. That didn’t do him justice, actually. It was evident under the street light where the bench was that he worked out regularly. Biceps giving a hard time to his sleeves every time he moved, veins protruding on his forearms, his thighs looking like they’d help him carry ten people on his large back. And oh, his broader-than-the-horizon shoulders. An absolute unit of a man with cheekbones and jawline honed like a Greek statue. With his dark blonde hair falling on his face in that charming way and his oh so kind blue eyes, you knew he was out of your league.

His gentle aura making him seem like a Prince Charming or a white knight or whatever the fuck those Disney movies had.

You planned on never seeing anyone from work again, you had nothing to lose. And Cathy so would say to shoot your shot.

“I’m thinkin’ of getting a few drinks in me, want to tag along?”

“What do you have in mind?” He seemed interested, a good sign.

“You got any suggestions? And don’t say beer because I plan on getting wasted beyond recognition in like an hour.”

“Yeah, be careful. And don’t drink and drive.” The way he took a U-turn on his interest irritated you. You really thought he wouldn’t say no, you were getting along well, flirting even. “Did you come here with your car?”

“Yeah.” You tried to not sound upset. “I’m not a teenager. I’ll take a cab. Drinks will be on me.”

“Ah, thanks but I’ll have to refuse. They’ll probably wonder where I went. It’s my dinner, after all.” The polite smile he gave you was so infuriating.

You got up from the bench. He had the audacity to look you up and down after that. “Then please tell Hunnigan I’m sorry I left early, will you?”

“I will.” He fidgeted and crossed his arms. Oh God, you’d made him uncomfortable. It was just minutes ago he was sort of flirting with you. “Don’t drink too much.”

God, why did he have to be so annoying?

The next time you two met was at the closest pharmacist to work, few weeks after his dinner and your failed attempt to get him in your bed.

“One box of aspirin, please.” Your head snapped up at that voice. Unmistakably, Leon. With his broad back facing you, he hadn’t seen you yet.

“What can I get you, miss?”

Leon stepped over to the side when they called to you, still not looking at you.

“Eyedrops, please.”

“Miss, are you alright?”

To that, he did a double-take. You’d looked disheveled to the point of worry. Eyes and nose a few shades redder than the rest of your face, eyebags puffy and makeup smudged. With your now extremely frizzy baby hairs doing anything but their job of framing your face, it was apparent that you’d been crying.

“Yes, it’s just an allergy.”

“Can I get you anything for that?”

“No, thank you. I already have meds for it.”

Leon thanked when they gave him his aspirin and turned to you. “Wait here, don’t go anywhere.” He quickly left the pharmacist.

Surprisingly, you did wait for him outside. Why? You had no idea. Frankly, you were hoping to cry more in your car.

Approximately five minutes later, he came to you jogging lightly. He thrusted a water bottle in your hand. “Where’s your medication?”

“What?”

“For your allergy?”

“Oh, um—” You couldn’t find a lie fast enough, usually you were not bad at lying but the way he appeared to be worrying about your well-being was baffling to say the least. “I don’t have it, I mean—” You pressed the water bottle to your stomach and held on to it for comfort. “I don’t have an allergy.”

It was his turn to be baffled. “Are you alright?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You don’t look like it.” He looked at you and around you as though checking to see any injury. “You should drink up.” He motioned to the bottle and watched you take a gulp.

“Thank you. Oh, you should, too,” You tried to give him the rest of the water while his stare questioned you. “For your aspirin.”

“I already took it. I’m supposed to take it with water?”

“Yes, Leon. Have you been taking them without water this whole time? Then why did you bring me water?”

“I didn’t know that! You looked dehydrated.”

“That’s not good for you. Now I’m worried about your stomach.”

His blue eyes shined like he came to a revelation. “That’s why my stomach burns when I take them?”

How are you this stupid, you suppressed saying, if you had known him well enough at that time, you definitely would. You forgot for a second that you were annoyed at him for rejecting you few weeks ago and find yourself flabbergasted at thinking that he is endearing, in a way.

You made small talk with him about his lunch break and he insisted on walking you to your car.

“Can I help you with anything?” he said sympathetically once you stood in front of your open car door. “You still look…”

Like a truck hit me, you wanted to complete his sentence.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. It just happens time to time.” You tried to make yourself presentable by adjusting your blouse and hair.

“It?”

“Sometimes I cry for no reason. It happens randomly, too, I don’t know when and where I’ll be crying most of the time. Like, I’ll be reading something, it doesn’t have to be sad, I mean— I was reading reports before I came here. Sometimes it gets too much, like now.”

“Will you be okay driving?”

“Yeah! Talking with you definitely helped.” His apprehensive gaze pierced through you. You actually felt like crying again, your chest feeling tight, eyes burning. You stood upright with the support of your car door. “I’ll be fine, Leon.”

“I’m choosing to believe you. Drive safe.” He shifted his weight on one of his legs and seemed ready to take off.

“Thank you. See you around?”

“You probably won’t for a while,” he said to the ground, soothing the itch on his calf with his other leg’s shin. He looked up and squinted his eyes against the sun. “I got assigned a mission. I don’t know for how long.”

“Oh, I’ll be at your celebratory dinner then, if I get an invitation.”

“Well, I don’t know how it will go. I’ll only invite you if you won’t talk for the whole dinner but flirt with me outside again.”

“You didn’t need to embarrass me like that,” you chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t say I’m a push and pull kind of woman.”

“You can show me what kind of woman you are when I get back?”

“Very smooth, Leon.”

He seemed taken aback. “I’ll see you then.” Suddenly, he was distant again. This time you didn’t know what made him uneasy.

“Yeah… Be safe on your mission.”

He just nodded. You got in your car and gripped the steering wheel tightly until the sight of his leather jacket clad back disappeared. You hunched forward, shoved your forehead to the wheel and tried to take a deep breath. The crying spell didn’t go away as the tears burst down first and then the sobs jerked your entire body.

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

—Like Real People Do, Hozier

The inside of Leon’s car smells nice, he takes good care of it.

“I’m going to see my sister this weekend,” you say, averting your gaze from the way he steers the wheel with one hand. His other hand is on his knee, tapping away. The effect his toned arms have on you is humiliating.

“I think I can make it.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t have anything that day. I can go with you. It’s your mother’s death anniversary, right? I think it’s time I pay my respects.”

It’s these things he says that leave you puzzled. He’s incredibly thoughtful, no matter who he’s talking to. He very well could have his day off-work for himself, but he asks anyway.

“Do you actually want to meet my sister?”

“I do. I hope to make a good first impression.”

You think about it for a second and end up telling him. “I sent a picture of you to her back when we got married.”

“How’d you get a picture of me?” he asks, appalled. The only picture he has of himself besides the wedding one is on his badge.

“Our wedding picture, dummy. We have one, remember?”

“Oh, right, I forgot.” You can’t complain because you keep it in a dresser drawer in the envelope it came in. He was on duty again when it came and you’d showed it to him once he was home. The left corner of his lips had curled up and for a second, you thought you saw affection in his eyes. “It came out okay? I was sweating buckets, but you—" he’d said and pointed a finger to your face in the photo. “Your hands were ice cold, I nearly asked you to paste your hands to my forehead just so I could cool down.”

“We still have the picture, right?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s in my room. Why?”

“Can I have it?”

“Yeah, they sent two. Can I ask what you’re going to do with it?”

“Give it to the mafia or hire a hitman to go after you, what else?” He lets out a hollow laugh. You want to record the sound and have it forever play in your ears. “I want to frame it and put it on my desk. People usually have pictures of their spouses and children or even their dogs on their desks, no?”

Yes, you know. You have pictures with your best friend and sister on your own desk at work.

It’s his way of saying you mean something to him.

You call your sister’s name as soon as you see it. “Why do you have this picture here?”

She’s carrying the empty plates to the sink as you hold on to her fridge’s door handle.

She looks up to see you pointing at your wedding picture. It’s on her fridge. You don’t even display it in your own house.

“You printed it?”

“I did,” she says. “It’s a good picture.” Her house is littered with pictures of her and her husband on different vacations, of you and your mother and her together in some.

“You just met Leon today.”

“And I think he’s great. You’re happy with him. That’s all I could ask for.”

You were happy since he was in a good mood the entire ride coming here. It was long but you two had a smooth ride and he amused you with his corny jokes and stories. You tore small pieces of bagel and fed him when he said he was getting hungry. He was tired from driving the whole time, but of course he didn’t have it any other way and jestingly banned you from getting behind the wheel. He did make a good first impression like he promised, although he kept bobbing his cramped leg. He’s now in the backyard with your brother-in-law, chatting about football, probably.

Your sister gets your attention by giving you a side hug and rubbing your back. “You’re my only sister, of course I’m going to have a picture of your happiest day.”

You hug her back around her waist. She even had photos of your birth in the living room. Your mom in a hospital bed, one day-old baby you cradled in her arms, your father hugging your mother and looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. Did he know then, that he would never be there for you to look at you like that again?

“You remember dad, right?” you ask quietly. She was older and was able to tell stories about him to you. “How was he like? Before he left, I mean.”

“Like I told you, he loved us so much. I don’t know if it was the same case for my mom. She later told me she saw it coming, that he likely had another woman.”

“How did mom know?”

Your sister sighs and rest her head on top of yours. “She said she could just feel it. Said he felt distant. He used to come home late leading up to it, sometimes drunk. One day I woke up and he wasn’t home. Didn’t say anything, just abandoned us like that.”

There’s that sadness again, creeping up to your chest and placing a big rock there. You feel like you’re being crushed by it. Your mom had always been ambitious, had dreams for herself and her family, deserved so much more than what she got.

Leon’s laughing loudly in the backyard, your head whips to see the sight.

“Come on, go mingle with your husband. I got it from here,” says your sister and starts to place the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I’ll go get us some beer,” says your brother-in-law and gets up from his chair. The weather is amazing today, your sister had set up a nice meal outside. Leon was getting along with them well. What more could you ask for?

You find yourself alone with Leon when your brother-in-law goes inside the house. You sit next to him and he promptly puts his arm on the back of your chair.

“How’s your leg?” you ask him.

“My thighs are sore,” he groans. “Good thing we’re not driving back tonight.”

“Well, I wouldn’t let you anyways.” You put a hand on his knee and start to massage, hoping it will help his aching legs. You’re even bolder than a few days ago. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

“It hurts here,” he says and grabs your hand, placing it higher on his thigh. “You can put more pressure, I can hardly feel it.” His thigh is firm and thank God, your hands manage to stay stable. You ball your hands into fists and start to punch lightly where he wants. The meat of his thighs doesn’t even jiggle, reminding you that he’s mostly made of muscle.

You focus up on his knees. “I’ll drive us to the cemetery tomorrow.”

“I can—”

“No. You’re tired, Leon. I want to drive, don’t make me upset.”

“Would you actually be upset if I—”

“Yes, very.” You pinch his thigh and that makes him press his lips together.

“They’re really nice, you know,” he means your sister and her husband. “I feel like an ass for not meeting them sooner.”

“You like them?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I do.”

“So, any propositions?”

“Huh?”

“Got asked for a threesome yet?” you smirk.

“I’m sorry?” He’s horrified and you find it funny.

“After I sent the wedding picture to them, they both said you were hot. I just remembered it.”

“I’d rather not know that!”

“Relax, Kennedy. I’m just joking. They’re not gonna ask you that.”

He visibly relaxes and puts you in a headlock in a play-fight manner with the arm that was behind you. His nose and mouth pressed up against your hair, he says, “I’ll just tell them I’m a one-lady type of man if they ever do.” You consider biting his arm.

“Can the lovebirds look up here for a second?” chirps your sister. She has come with her camera outside. “It’s the golden hour.”

Leon adjusts his head to look towards the camera and relaxes his hold on you, arm dangling from your shoulder, other hand engulfs yours on his knee, rings clashing.

“Aww,” your sister coos as she takes the photo. “I’ll send this to you.”

She doesn’t suspect a thing, probably because you’re not pretending anymore.

You splash your face with cold water after you’re done brushing your teeth in your sister’s guest room bathroom. Leon’s inside the room, splayed out on the bed, exhausted after today. It won’t be awkward, you say to yourself, hope to God your hands don’t start to tremble from anxiety.

Leon has taken off his t-shirt, bent one of his knees and put his hands behind his head. Not helping your case by looking irresistible. Even the tufts of hair under his arms are endearing to you.

“How are you holding up?” he asks once you sit on the bed next to him, back facing him. He knows you will visit Cathy too when you get back.

“I’m good, Leon.” You take off your ring and place it next to his on the bedside drawer. “Never been better, actually. I missed them.” You twist your upper body to face him. “Here,” you say as you place your newly washed cold damp hands on both sides of his face in attempts to cool him down.

He shivers, his shoulders going up slightly for a quick second. “That’s nice,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. You’re silent, in part because you’re speechless before his beauty, but you also would like to try to give him a little piece of serenity he needs.

“This used to be my mom’s room when she was living here.”

He hums softly and opens his eyes, his hands coming up to hold on to your bare arms, the skin between his eyebrows pinched.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hands finding place on his broad shoulders.

He starts to rub your arms up and down, his hands stopping after a while to trace a strap of your tank top with his fingers. All of your worries about intimate gestures going out the window the moment you let his hands wander.

This is the tender domesticity that you’ve been longing for so badly, you want to thank him.

He scrunches his nose. “I wanted to kiss you, now I think it’ll be inappropriate.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your grip on his shoulders is now stronger, begging not to tremble. He feels lonely, he shouldn’t have come here. You have to swallow hard. “It won’t.”

His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, he’s staring at your lips like he doesn’t wish for anything else. “C’mere.” He tugs at your hip to get the lower half of your body up on the bed. He drapes you halfway on his torso.

Once you’re situated to his liking and casting a shadow on his face, he brings you down ever so gently to his mouth, massaging your nape. He’s hot all over, his mouth, his breath on your face, his chest, the hand that’s splaying his fingers on the small of your back. With his soft lips moving lazily against yours, you’re quite literally bursting at the seams. The muffled sigh he drags across your mouth tempts you to press your entire body to his harder and sling your leg across his hips.

His kisses turn into open-mouthed ones and he tastes like minty toothpaste and sunlight on golden hour.

A small noise comes out of your throat, hands straying down to his bare chest and he has to cradle your face to stop. “We should sleep.” His Adam’s apple bobs enticingly. “I seriously don’t want to disrespect your mother’s ghost.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he hugs your head and buries it to his chest, his chin resting on top. “You’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

It’s okay, you think when you feel the low timbre of his chuckle on his chest. We’re okay. We’re doing better.

There's no plan, there's no race to be run The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come I'll be your man if you got love to get done Sit in and watch the sunlight fade Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein

—No Plan, Hozier

The fourth time you saw Leon Kennedy was at a bar. You thought his coworkers were going to be there to see him after his mission but it was just you two.

He had emailed you a day before, saying he asked for your email address from Hunnigan, inviting you for drinks the next day and apologizing for letting you know this late.

“Where’s everyone? Am I early?” you asked, despite noticing the table he was sitting at was for two people.

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sight of him. He looked tired. He had a bit of a stubble and his hair was tousled. “No, you’re right on time,” he said, getting up to pull your chair for you. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” you said, ridding yourself from your jacket. You actually put in the effort to look good that day. A nice outfit, a little bit more makeup, hair done.

As you sat down in front of him, a corner of his lips went up, “You look good.”

“The last time we spoke wasn’t my best moment.”

“How have you been?”

You placed your hands on the table and started to play with your fingers, anxious. “Since then? Better, I suppose. How about you? Your mission went well?”

“Depends on how you define well.”

“You’re still in one piece.”

“If only that was enough.” You didn’t get to see his disappointed expression for long when a server came up to your table and Leon quickly ordered a drink, asked what you wanted and waited with his hands together on the table.

Once the server was away, you slightly leaned towards him. “They should be grateful that they got their best agent back alright.” Although you couldn’t ask him any details about his mission, you knew he was a special agent that was good at this job.

“Hunnigan told me you’re in the archives.”

“Yeah, that happened months ago, before your dinner.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“I—uh…” Your throat felt dry under his piercing stare. “I wasn’t needed there anymore. So I transferred.”

“Really? I heard it’s quite the opposite.”

“Oh, they’re talking about me?”

“Yes, seems like they really want you to work with agents again.”

“I know that,” you said and dug your fingernails to the corner of the table, his eyes following the motion.

“What do you mean?” he said, scratching his jaw. “You said you weren’t needed.”

“I felt like I wasn’t being useful. I tried to quit. They tried really hard to keep me there. Now, they’re constantly asking me to come back after everything.”

“They do know how to squeeze the last bit out of everyone,” he nodded. “Are you happy with where you are right now?”

“As in life?” You rolled your eyes thinking about it. “What does it look like?”

“I was worried the last time I saw you.” He sounded sincere.

“I know, I looked miserable.” Probably looked like the physical embodiment of a cry for help, too. “Can we not dwell on it, please? I’m better now. But now you—” You reach and tap on the middle of the table. “You look like you need to sleep for days.”

“That would be great,” he sighed.

You kept looking at the door but no one from work was coming in. “Why is no one coming, Leon?”

“They won’t, to be honest with you. I only invited you.”

Your back was then one with the chair. “Oh.”

“I should’ve let you know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind the quiet,” you smiled. And then you realized, he was doing the same thing you were doing, pushing anyone and anything away.

Him reaching out to you, this was his cry for help. Why you specifically, you didn’t know.

“You told me you lost a partner in Spain, were you close?”

To that, he dropped his chin and stared at his lap. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t know him. We met under strange circumstances and ended up helping each other. I got the impression that he regretted a lot of things but wanted to believe people could change.”

“I believe people can change, for the better or worse,” you mumbled.

Your server came with your drinks. Leon didn’t waste a second and downed nearly half of his drink. “You tried to quit?” he asked.

“I did. I thought it was time for a little stability in my life. This is as far as I can get to it,” you said and took a sip of your drink which was the same one as Leon. It was strong.

“Stability. That’s unlikely in this job,” he scoffed, fingers tapping at his glass.

“Do you see it as impossible, Leon?” You desperately hoped he would say no, you needed to hear from someone that it wasn’t just a pipe dream.

He seemed to be thinking for a slow moment. “I guess, for some people, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“For you it would?” you inquired.

“I once thought I would marry my first girlfriend. I was like what? Twenty, twenty-one? I was really stupid and in love. If twenty-one-year-old Leon saw this, he would be devastated,” he said and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can find someone who would understand what I do. It’s not like I can tell them. They’d be in danger because of me. I can’t ask them to trust me blindly. I wouldn’t want them to.”

“If someone was willing to accept you as you are, do you think..?”

“Who in their right mind would?” he groaned in exasperation.

“I would. But my situation is different, I have an understanding of what you do. I also can’t be in any more danger than I already am.” There was a beat of silence after you said that. The drink was definitely too much for you, you were sure. Your ears were burning hot, one hand coming up to cool one down with your nervous cold fingers, your eyes roamed the whole place. You chugged the remaining of your drink and wiped your mouth.

“Whoa, slow down there,” he bolted and looked at your abashed face as if he was in a contemporary art museum, trying to understand what the artist meant with their absurd piece.

Feeling self-conscious, you fixed your hair and babbled out, “Why did you get into this line of work in the first place?”

His back straightened, shoulders rolling back. “I was… recruited.” You didn’t quite understand how but remained from prodding any further. “I was the best candidate for what they wanted. An orphan who didn’t have anything to lose.”

It really wasn’t going well for you. You wanted to bang your head against the table and avoid looking at him completely but after what he had revealed to you, you couldn’t be any ruder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

If Cathy were to hear about this, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Good job honey, that’s one way to woo a man. She would’ve said it in that sarcastic tone which she infamously was a master of.

“No, it’s fine,” said Leon. “You could do so much better than me, though.”

Have you seen yourself, you wanted to exclaim.

Your nostrils were wide, trying to sober you up by hogging as much oxygen as possible, you tried to remain calm, you were feral however. “Why do you keep putting yourself down, Leon? You know, you could’ve called your friends today and they would’ve come running to you. You’re a great person, they don’t give a damn about how successful your mission was. They’re happy that you’re back, that’s all. They are your friends, not the alcohol.”

He was dead silent, staring at his glass with an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m sorry for overstepping but I saw how they were trying to look out for you at the dinner. There wasn’t even a glass of wine there, celebration my ass. Everybody can tell you’re not fine. I don’t know you that well but even I can tell. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t healthy. It’s self-destructive.”

He wiped his forehead. “You’re the one to talk.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hunnigan’s always talking about how you’re running away every time you see her. She has to drag you everywhere. She’s being nice to you, you could try appreciating that, you know? And you’re clearly stuck up on something, are you trying to repent for your sins or what?” He quite literally disarmed you with his icy stare.

“I’m not Catholic,” you retorted.

“Well, would you look at that. We’re more similar than I thought.” The smirk he had on was sardonic, the furthest from being friendly. You felt an urge to get up and never look back.

“Wrong,” you said as you crossed your arms. “I don’t expect alcohol to solve my problems.”

“Yeah, you’d rather run away from them. And that isn’t going well for you, is it?” He finished his drink and motioned for the server for another. “Also, stop being a hypocrite.”

“Excuse you?” you said with seething anger.

“Are you not trying to ‘get wasted beyond recognition’ right now, as you put it?” he sneered and pointed out your empty glass.

“That was one time, I usually don’t drink. And I’m not planning on drinking more.”

“Oh, did I ruin your fun?”

“Stop that,” you said through your gritted teeth. “Stop being mean. I’m not your friend. You don’t have to push me away. I don’t know why you invited me here. I can just get up and go, leave you with whatever you have up your ass that’s making you act like this. I’m only asking you to stop putting yourself down so much and you’re being all defensive. You know what, I don’t deserve this.” You got up from your chair, grabbing your jacket and purse.

He stood up quickly and tried to follow you. “Sit down, Leon. Your drink is coming.” You didn’t give him any chance to reply and threw the amount of cash that covered your single glass of alcohol on the table.

The walk from the noiseless bar to the nearest bus stop was not pleasant, to say the least. The air was biting cold, hitting your warm cheeks and making you shiver.

Leon only lost sight of you because he stopped to tip the server generously. He fucked up big time, he knew that. It was going to be a pain in the ass if you already jumped in a cab but he had hope that no vacant cab was passing the area on a Friday night.

He was stupid to think this would go smoothly. The last time he saw you, he was concerned about you. The way you’d casually admitted you were not fine was echoing in his mind. He wanted to see if you’d be there by the time he was back from duty. He admitted he was scared for you, for that woman who seemed so small during the funeral, for that woman who had a meltdown in her car in the middle of the day, barely hanging on.

He wanted to tell you today that maybe you should quit. But you had already crossed that bridge.

Maybe you wanted to help people, too. At least at the beginning. Now you wanted peace and quiet, because your life has been anything but. Unlike you, he gave up on that a while ago. He wanted to regard your daring words— I would— as being drunk, he really did.

Ada would never admit she’d want something like that to him, to anyone. Ada didn’t want a stable life, she would never live at a place longer than a month, work with someone more than twice. Even after all of their encounters, Leon still didn’t know what her actual motives were. Raccoon City, Spain, his last mission.

It was pitiful, the way his breath would hitch every time he saw a dark-haired woman wearing red out of the corner of his eye. His heart would pound in his ears for a quick second before he’d realize he was mistaken. He would allow himself, for a brief moment, that maybe it was Ada, here to see him. However, she was never the one to be sentimental. Her every action had a tangible intention that Leon could never guess.

But Leon knew she cared. Enough to save him every goddamn time he needed saving. Enough to ask him to come with her. If he was twenty-one, he would’ve chosen to tail behind her, ready to follow her wherever. Except he had changed, he was not naive anymore. He’d like to think he made the right choice by separating their ways back in Spain. He didn’t know if he was going to be used again.

He also didn’t know what would become of them. Needless to say, he wasn’t going to abandon the mission and ride off into the sunset with Ada yet a part of him wondered about their alternate universe in which he chose to follow her. What would have happened if he just hopped onto that helicopter with her? Where would she have taken him? Was she planning on greeting him properly after all those years? Was he ready to forgive her after Raccoon City?

Perhaps she would have dropped him off somewhere, with a phone number or an address, leaving him confused yet again. Maybe he would’ve reached out, met her in a different circumstance where they didn’t have to constantly run away from trouble. Maybe she’d be living in a small flat and then she’d ask him to come over. Maybe he’d continue to visit her, make himself familiar with her small space.

Except that was not feasible at all, since she was a fleeting kind of woman, just like all the moments they shared. Not there to stay. And none of these would happen, it would always be a different hotel room, different city, barring him from being constant in her life.

A puppy love, he used to think. Young, naive, credulous love. No, he realized, it got older and bigger, sicker. It was time to put it down, put it out of its misery.

He sprinted to the bus station, his hunch was right, you were sitting there, arms folded on your chest, alone. You looked up the moment you heard his footsteps. He left a few steps between you two and braced himself by putting his palms on his knees.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, his eyes were focused on your red nose. Probably from the cold, he convinced himself.

“What do you mean? You asked me to,” you grimaced.

“You said we’re not friends, so why did you come here?”

Your head turned opposite of Leon, resting your chin on your shoulder and hugging yourself tighter. “I wanted some company,” you grumbled, the collar of your jacket muffling your voice. “I think Hunnigan’s right and I might need it.”

“Sorry I’m not a decent one.” He took slow steps to sit next to you on the narrow bench of the bus stop, his shoulder grazing yours. That made you perk up at him.

“I’m sorry for the things I said earlier,” you said, holding his gaze.

“You said a lot of things.”

“Well, I’m sorry for all of them, I crossed a line.”

“Don’t be, I needed the scolding.”

“I didn’t mean to scold you.”

He knocked his knee to yours. “Do you always regret the things you say immediately after? I was an asshole, you got angry, rightfully so.”

“But I was the one who started it,” you pursed your lips.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not kids.”

“I, uh, called a taxi, should be here in a few minutes,” you said after a minute of silence.

“Okay, tell me something in the meantime.”

“What do you want to hear?”

His thumb caressed his brow, he was contemplating. “Would you consider marrying me?”

“What?”

“Would you marry me? If I asked?”

“No, I heard you the first time.” Your eyes took in every inch of his face, searching for a sign, anything that might explain this. “Leon, are you drunk?”

“No, I’m nowhere near drunk. It takes more than one drink for me to get buzzed.” He crossed his arms, imitating you. “Think about it, we can both try to live calm and stable.”

Your face was contorted in confusion, still for a slight pause. “People don’t marry out of spite, Leon. They marry out of love.”

“Who said anything about spite?”

“You’re clearly angry at something or someone.”

“I am not.”

“This life you are living right now… isn’t quite what you planned, is it? Some things didn’t go according to plan and now you’re here, trying to steer the reins again. And you’re angry.”

“What are you, my therapist?” This time his comeback didn’t sound as if it was meant to hurt you, but to make the air between you lighter. “I guess I do resent some things, doctor.”

You went along with his enactment. “Admitting is a huge step Leon, I appreciate the honesty.”

“Now you be honest,” he said, bouncing his leg in impatience. “Are you in a relationship? Am I being creepy by cornering you like this?”

“I’m not and I don’t feel cornered. If I did, I’d just get up and go. You just saw.”

He nodded, his lips in a thin line. “Experienced firsthand how you run away from your problems and I don’t mean it figuratively.”

You chuckled. “You are not a problem in my life.”

“Not a friend either.”

Your smile dropped. “I don’t think we know each other that well.”

He hummed, looking far away. “That’s probably your cab.” He got up, shaking off dust from his jeans. “Take my number before you get in and let me know when you make it home safe.”

You gave him your number but didn’t get to write your name in his contacts as the cab drew near. “Thanks for keeping me company, you didn’t need to run after me,” you said as you handed him his phone.

“We won’t dwell on it,” he winked as he opened the back door of the cab for you. “And think it over, okay?”

“What?”

“My proposal. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient.”

“Tell me one good thing that will be convenient.”

“Uh, okay. Here’s two for you,” he said and held up two fingers. “A better healthcare plan and tax benefits.”

You laughed and the driver seemed annoyed that you were still standing in front of the open door. “I should get going.”

“Text me when you get home,” he said when you finally got in the car.

You texted him again two weeks after his ridiculous proposal.

Hi, Leon. Do you remember what you asked me after the bar two weeks ago?

Hi. Yes I remember.

Were you being serious or should I pass it as tipsy nonsense?

There was no response from him for a few minutes and you had started biting your nails nervously.

I was being serious. I wasn’t tipsy.

You stared at his short text longer than it took him to reply. You had already made up your mind but it felt cheap telling him over a text. This was not the proper way of doing this. You also didn’t know how to convey this to him, so you resorted to a playful text.

Ask me properly and I’ll consider it.

I’ll ask you again properly over dinner next Friday? I know a good Italian place.

The next Friday, he kept his promise and said those four words in a fancy quiet Italian restaurant. You said yes.

“I have a request,” you said, swirling your wine before taking a sip. “I want a wedding dress, not like a gown or anything. Just a simple white dress.”

“Sure, I already have a suit that I can wear.”

Your heart tugged in your chest. The fact that you had to buy your wedding dress by yourself, no matter how simple you envisioned it to be, without Cathy by your side was making your ears ring, drowning out all the knife and fork clatter around you.

Here's my hand There's the itch But I'm not supposed to scratch

—Love Me More, Mitski

It’s four a.m. and you want to say you’ve actually seen it coming. Every time something good happens, its catastrophe follows eventually. Just like how Cathy’s mission was going so well until it wasn’t.

It’s four a.m. and the meal you’ve prepared for Leon has gone cold on the dining table. You thought he’d be hungry when he came back from mission, so you went out and bought ingredients, followed a recipe word for word, even made soup additionally just in case he didn’t feel like eating solid food after what his body’s been through. He said he’d be back at one a.m. and he hasn’t contacted you since. You’ve called and texted him numerous times but it was radio silence from him.

He had promised you, before you got married, that he would always let you know when he got back from a mission and he always did. He never once forgot because you were very serious about this, wanted to know as soon as possible that he was back safe.

It’s four a.m. and you feel like you’re going crazy, soaring into a heaving fit as each minute passes by.

The sound of his keys makes you clutch at your chest and before you even realize, your legs are walking you to the front door. He’s being quiet and you wait for him few steps behind the door. His steps are feather light, head bowed down to take off his shoes, he exhales a long breath as he places his backpack down.

He flinches when he sees your silhouette in the dark. “God, you scared me. I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“You didn’t text me,” your voice breaks, your hands are clutching at the sides of your pajama shirt like it’s a lifeline.

“I forgot.”

Your tears threaten to fall down and you’re grateful that it’s dark and he can’t see. You bite down your lip strong enough to make it bleed. “I was worried.”

“I’m fine, you didn’t need to stay up.”

It’s not like you chose to, you physically couldn’t lie down or eat anything when your mind went all haywire, creating the worst possible scenarios it could think of.

“I, um, made dinner.” You point to the table. “But it��s gone cold, I can heat it up. Don’t know if it will taste any good, though. Did you have any chance to eat something? I mean, if you ate dinner, it’s been hours and you’re probably hungry—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I also made soup, so it’s easier on the stomach. You’re tired, right? Just eat some soup and then go to sleep. I’ll heat that up and there’s also tea in the pantry, supposed to help you sleep. Oh, I filled up the bathtub, I’ll go drain it, the water’s gone cold and you probably want to have a hot shower—”

He cuts you off again by blurting out your name. “Hey, hey, slow down.” His calloused hands come up to hold your shoulders and you let out a small whimper of surprise, your chin dropping to your chest. “I don’t want anything, I’ll just sleep.”

You shrug and escape from his hold, so he doesn’t ask you why you’re trembling like a leaf. “But shower…” you manage to make out and point to the direction of his room.

“Yes, I’ll drain the tub and shower, you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” you say softly. He’s home, you repeat deliriously. He’s here, very much alive. The thought calms your nerves instantly.

He doesn’t turn on any of the lights while navigating his home in the dark. You crane your neck to watch his silhouette move to his room. He opts to turn on the bathroom light first. You listen to the water droplets as you put away the food you made for him in containers. He says something you can’t quite hear when he gets out of the shower.

“Did you say something, Leon?” you raise your voice slightly.

“Yeah, did you clean my room?”

“It was messy. Thought it’d be nice to see it tidy when you came back.”

He doesn’t reply right away and your head turns to his direction as if he can see you through the door.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to.”

You actually cleaned the whole house when he was away, not that he had the chance to see it.

You were aware from the very beginning that this was what you got yourself into. You and Leon never promised each other love. But why are you feeling like this now? Stupid question, really. Because things have changed, you’ve grown to love him and you’re afraid. You’re afraid that one day you’ll have to face the world without him by your side because he has become your anchor, holding you in place where you now call home. It’s nice having his warm hands on you, it’s nice coming home to him.

However, in moments like now it feels like you’re playing house, actors going their separate ways after the lights go out. It awfully feels like you’re standing in the middle of a dark stage, curtains closed so nobody can see what goes down behind the scenes.

You’re in front of his door, first aid kit in one hand, knocking. “Leon?” You know he’s not sleeping. He can’t sleep well after he comes back from his missions, his insomnia making it impossible for him.

The door cracks open and you slide past him before he can say anything, perching cross-legged on the side of his bed, placing the kit on your lap before propping his pillow against the bedpost so he can sit comfortably in front of you. “Let me have a look.” You pat on the bed. “And turn on the lamp, please.”

You can finally see him when he does. The first thing you see is the big purple bruise on his side because he’s only wearing his sweatpants. His hair is wet from the shower, hanging to his eyes, eyebags dark and prominent, one of his forearms is freshly bandaged. Despite all, he’s standing tall in front of you.

“They already patched me up,” he says, showing his bandage.

You take his hand and draw him near, making him sit on the bed with one leg dangling from the side. Half of his face is illuminated like this and you can see the cut on his jaw in its full glory. Your fingers begin to work quickly, cleaning the wound all the while he winces by closing his eyes. “Seems like they didn’t take a good look at you. What happened to your ribs?” you ask to distract him.

“Got kicked. They’re not broken.”

You put the band-aid on his jaw and search his eyes as they open. He blinks slowly at you, understanding that you want to hear more. “Hurts when I breathe but it should be gone in a few days, it’s not that bad.”

You take his unwrapped hand in yours, the skin of his knuckles is very red, it probably hurts when he flexes it. You grab the ice pack you remembered to bring with you and place it on top on his knuckles.

“Not there,” he mumbles. “Put in on my shoulder, it’s really sore.”

You place the pack on the shoulder he points. He tries to turn his head that way but his face contorts in pain and he gives up, exhaling a long sigh.

“Did you have them wrap it up?”

“No, can’t be bothered to rewrap it later.”

“That’s why you have me to do it for you,” you hum, adjusting the ice pack. You’re closer to him like this, able to smell his soap and shampoo from his body. You can make out the shape of his chapped lips and yours ache to kiss his pain away, except you are overheated with grievance.

His eyes bore into you, taking you in. There’s an unassuming hand on your bent knee, squeezing lightly. “Did I scare you?” he asks.

“You promised me,” you gripe to him, fumbling with your fingers on your lap after you place the first aid kit next to you. “You promised me that you’d let me know when you were back. Of course I was scared.”

His forehead falls onto your shoulder, damp strands of hair pressed to the side of your neck as the ice pack tumbles down his back onto the bed. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says breathily.

He’s only called you by your name all this time, so this is new. And stomach lurching. Your cheek knocks the side of his head with your startled reaction.

“I have no excuse,” he murmurs. His palm on your knee slides up, leaving a burning sensation as it goes along your thigh, bypassing your hips and finding place on the curve of your waist.

“It’s okay,” you squeak when you feel his thumb caressing your ribs through your t-shirt.

You don’t remember ever sitting down with him, drawing lines about the nature of your relationship, lines that both of you never meant to cross, because you didn’t. You didn’t discuss anything about boundaries because at the time you were getting married, you didn’t know him much. Both of you assumed that it would naturally develop, silent agreements to come.

It was manageable before, now it confuses you to the point of ripping hair from your own head. There were times where you didn’t think twice about giving him a friendly hug, a pat on the back, a reassuring squeeze to his knee but after getting into bed with him, every action was testing the waters.

It wasn’t even a bed; it was the couch in the living room where you had countless dinners and conversations, the heart of the home, if you will. It felt shameful afterwards as if it happened in an open space, because it was quick and devoid of any intimacy, but it was in the confines of your own quiet home still.

You want to go back to the time when you were friends, and not what this was supposed to be. You want to go back to the time when you didn’t know how it felt to have him like that, when you didn’t know his touch would be so tantalizing, his lips unbearably addicting, his warmth conquering.

Initially, you thought you’d cross any bridge regarding him when you came across it, but there weren’t any bridges around to reach him to begin with. You quickly realized that he had burned them before you, for everyone. So, you painstakingly built each and every one of them with your bare hands, desperate to get to him. And him shaking them felt immensely unfair, all your hard work threatened to fall.

Your hand on his chest pushes him away ever so slightly before his hand drops from your waist. He hisses softly yet the action hurts you more than it hurts him. He yields to your touch, back leaning on his propped-up pillow, waiting for you to gather the scatter of your thoughts patiently.

“Stop confusing me, Leon.”

“What do you mean?”

“What am I to you exactly?”

“You’re my wife,” he says. Obviously.

“So why doesn’t it feel like it?”

“We never guaranteed that it would.”

“Yeah, I know that. All this time I thought maybe we were doing better, now I don’t know Leon, you’re confusing me. Either stop giving me hope or just say it outright.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That I’m just a fuck buddy to you.”

His jaw ticks, lips curl in disdain. “How shallow do you think I am?”

“I know we never established any boundaries between each other but it’s gotten to a point where I don’t know how I should act around you.”

His face stays stagnant. “You can’t be serious. Your boundaries were set from the beginning. You never had a place for me in your heart.”

Time seems to stop for you in that dire moment, Leon’s blue eyes serving you a new wrench of dismay. “When did I give off that impression?”

“Our first anniversary,” he clarifies hoarsely. “We ate pizza on the couch, remember?”

You do, you even remember the Disney movie he had rented as a cheeky nod to time you two first flirted. The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“I always wonder why you said yes to my proposal in the first place,” he said after taking a bite from his pizza slice. It had been a year since getting married, Hunnigan was the one to point out to him. Apparently, she was proud of herself due to the fact that she was the one to introduce you two.

“I thought of Cathy and what she would’ve said to me,” you said, watching the animated Quasimodo sing his heart out to the town below him.

“What would she have said?”

“That it is ridiculous and maybe I should say yes.”

“So, you thought of what Cathy would’ve said to you getting married but not your family?”

You turned your head to him, ready to get vulnerable. “Cathy was family to me.”

“I didn’t know you two were that close.”

“Yeah, we met when we were roommates back in college. She urged me to change majors and follow her path.”

“To become an agent?”

“No, she was the one who always wanted to be a special agent. I didn’t know what to do at first but somehow ended up working alongside her.”

“What were you studying before?”

“I was studying to become a nurse. Kind of in my sister’s path, she’s a doctor.”

He scratched his nape, looking ashamed. “I believe I never asked that before, sorry about that.”

You elbowed his side after taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, you better be sorry for not knowing what your sister-in-law does for work.”

He rolled his eyes upon your teasing. “Were they supportive of you changing majors? Your family, I mean.”

“My family’s always been small. It’s just me and my mom and sister. Dad’s never been in the picture. He left when I was a few months old. My mom raised us herself. And yes, she would support anything I did. She loved Cathy because she would make me do things I’d never do myself.”

“Your mom sounds like a great person.”

“She was. She died four days before Cathy did.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he said, much more ashamed than before. You didn’t blame him, the first year of your marriage flew by really fast, with him on duty most of it. Forget sitting down like this to talk, you rarely got any chance to see him.

“Yeah, their deaths being so close fucked me up really bad. We were on mission. My mom was living with my sister then because she was sick. My sister didn’t tell me her condition was even worse than before.”

“Why?”

“Mom knew we were working on something big and begged my sister not to tell me. She thought she’d see me after I was done with the mission. I had a whole fight with my sister about it. I felt betrayed.”

“I think I would, too, in that situation.”

“I was so fucking unprofessional after that. I couldn’t keep on helping Cathy properly. And she—”

“It isn’t your fault.” He shook his head, meeting your gaze in the space between you two on the couch.

“I’m tired of hearing that,” you huffed.

“None of that is on you. It’s the truth.”

“It’s not. I knew the situation was going bad. Cathy tried to make me believe it was not. Somebody else had to be transferred to take my place instead. I insisted but I had to be taken out. That’s when we lost connection to her.”

“How did you know it was going bad?”

“I could tell from her voice. I know her better than I know myself. I failed to get her help. I should have never listened to her.”

“But you couldn’t do that, could you? She clearly gave you wrong intel. You can’t send back-up until—”

“I could’ve made it seem like she requested back-up. That would’ve saved her, exterminated the mission, but saved her. I’d have faced the consequences of my actions sooner or later. If I did that and saved her, she’d be mad at me for years but who cares as long as she’s safe and sound?”

“I get it. I’d also have someone mad at me if it meant they’d be safe.”

“In the end, she died for nothing. The cult she was infiltrating dispersed after they killed her, all fled to different countries. It’s harder to track them down now. They’re everywhere.”

“You follow through with it? It would be impossible to track down each mission.”

“Why do you think I’m in the archives? I have access to mission reports. They don’t think it is bioweapon related, so sometimes they let me see them.”

Esmeralda was dancing along people’s whistles, captivating every man in the square.

“You said Cathy died for nothing but you actually don’t want that to be true.”

Fiddling with your fingers, you said, “Obviously.”

“You’re loyal,” he remarked. “I’m sure she would’ve loved to see her mission completed. Do you ever think of working as an analyst again?”

“Nope.”

From his expression you could tell he wanted an explanation, so you gave him one, “I don’t want to see people get hurt anymore. It’s a dangerous job, you know it. Why are you asking me?”

“No offense, but then why did you agree to marry me knowing I do the same job? If you’re scared of losing someone this much—it just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You sighed, having a hard time thinking where to even start. “You’re going to call me crazy.”

“I would never,” he said, half-jokingly.

“Okay, I really did think what Cathy would tell me to do. I always listened to her, the whole time we got to spend together. She told me what she wanted to do with her life, told me I looked depressed with what I was studying and maybe we should join an academy together. She was larger than life, lit up an entire room with her presence, never spoke ill of someone, liked to help people in any way she could. I’ve always been shy, so she went above and beyond to find me decent blind dates.”

“She sounds wonderful. She was also your matchmaker?”

“In a way, yes. Dragged me to parties with her so I could have some fun.” You gave Leon a smile, recalling Cathy and her antics in your mind, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Nothing sounds crazy so far,” he reassured you.

Finished with your pizza, you dusted off the crumbs into the box and lifted up your knees to sit cross-legged facing him. “I couldn’t keep someone interested in me for more than two dates.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he replied, his eyes traveling up and down.

“No, seriously. This one time, a guy left mid-date, told me he had a phone call, paid for the coffees and just left. I waited there for half an hour. It dawned on me when I couldn’t see his car outside. Didn’t call me after.”

Leon shrugged one shoulder. “His loss.”

You smacked his bicep playfully as a way of thanking him for his compliment. “I only went on these dates because Cathy thought it would be good for me. I had a few fights with my sister about Cathy and her influence on me. She thought I was like her puppet but I genuinely don’t think like that. I told you I knew Cathy like the back of my hand. It was the same for her. Never pushed me to do something I’d be uncomfortable with. Well, I’d feel awkward at times but it would be momentary, I’d learn so much in the long run.”

“That’s a very healthy way of looking at things. I’m still waiting for the part where you think I’d call you crazy.”

“I trusted her judgment because I knew she only wanted the best for me. She’d definitely try to set me up with you if we weren’t so busy all the time,” you said, lips curling into a roguish smile.

His eyebrows shot up, being brazen about it. “Oh, you’re saying I’d have her approval?”

Especially when you keep raking your hands through your hair like that, you wished to say. “Yes, you would.”

“Thank you, that means so much.”

“You didn’t even know her.”

“Well, she means so much to you, I feel honored that you think that way.”

A haze of grief washing over your heart, lungs expanding, you started, “I also… never mind.”

A comforting hand fell on you shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Now you have to say it, don’t leave me hangin'.”

“Here’s the crazy part,” you swallowed dryly. “Whenever I thought of my future, it was always with Cathy. I didn’t even think of getting married. I thought we’d retire together when the time came, she and Allison—her girlfriend—would live next to me. And if they ever had the chance, they’d marry and maybe have kids. I’d look after them like they were my own, be the best aunt. Isn’t it crazy, dreaming of looking after someone else’s kids and not yours? Sometimes I’d lay my head down and imagine myself in a little community, living next door to Cathy and her family, growing my own vegetable garden—though I don’t know the first thing about gardening but I’d learn! I would also grow pretty flowers and give them out to anyone who decided to come over. Go to the bakery in the morning, greet everyone on the way and grab my breakfast fresh out the oven. I’d get so fat! Eating baked goods every day, sounds like heaven to me.”

“Indeed.” With a fond smile on his face, he took of his hand from your shoulder and fully turned to you, bending one leg up on the cushions. “I don’t think I met an Allison at the funeral, was she there?”

“She was,” you said, remembering the painful conversation you had with her. “She arrived really early and left before anyone from work came.”

“What happened?” he asked, noticing you ripping skin off your fingers just like you had been doing during that day.

“I tried to talk to her. She told me I was a liar and walked out—” Leon interrupted your chain of thoughts by taking your hand, preventing you from damaging your fingers further. “I couldn’t keep my promise to her. It’s awful. I told her before the mission that it was going to be okay, we’d done this with Cathy many times and I’d make sure to keep her in one piece.”

Your other hand had a death grip on your knee, nails digging and leaving indents to keep yourself grounded. “They tortured Cathy while she was captive. She died because she refused to give them any information.”

Leon seemed like he didn’t want you to continue, placed your hand in his as though he was reading your palm and started to fidget with your gold wedding band on your ring finger. “Tell me more about that dream of yours. I bet you wouldn’t even install normal ceiling lights in your house. It’d just be little lamps everywhere.”

Giggling, you said, “Yeah! I’d be that auntie that collects little trinkets and displays them all around her house. I’d learn how to knit and make so many ugly sweaters for God knows anyone.”

“So, no partner living with you? Just you with your trinkets?”

“There’s so many types of love and I just didn’t see myself in a romantic one. It just happened that I never pictured myself alone. That’s it.”

His hands slipped away after your raw confession, broad back straightening, appearing tensed up. Yet again, you couldn’t make out what his expression meant.

Esmeralda was now singing a hymn, Quasimodo staring at her in admiration from the shadows.

“I talked so much today, now’s your turn. I feel embarrassed that you know my abysmal attempts at finding love. How about you, Leon? You got any embarrassing stories that you can tell?”

His answer was quick and mischievous, “Yeah, this one time this lady just got up and left me at the bar. In the middle of an argument.”

You pursed your lips and bumped on his knee on the cushions, restraining a laugh you know he’d get satisfaction out of. “Don’t piss me off, that wasn’t even a date.”

“I had a girlfriend when I was twenty-one, she broke up with me before I started working as a cop.”

“That’s so long ago and not that embarrassing if I’m being honest,” you sniffed at him.

“I already told you about how I thought I’d marry her. I really believed my first ever relationship would live to see its future.”

Offering him a new perspective, you explained, “Well, technically it did, it just wasn’t a bright one.”

“Pshh,” he scoffed, turning to the TV, stretching before bending his arms behind his head. “Wait—you’re telling me I’m the only long-term guy you had?”

His late light-bulb moment pulled a chuckle out of you. “Turning it back to me again, okay. No, I did date a guy for nearly one year. And before you ask, he said I worked too much and wasn’t fun.”

Leon’s face scrunching as if he just ate something sour, he blurted out, “Where do you find these types of guys? Did Cathy set you up with this asshole?”

“No, actually, I found him myself.”

“Is he the one who made you think you’re not fun to be around?”

You were left stumped, unable to think of any answer.

“What? If he is, I disagree with him.”

“You only say that because I go along with your corny jokes.”

“Yeah, that’s the only reason,” he chimed sarcastically.

Quasimodo was saving Esmeralda from the burning stake, the sign that the movie was about to end.

“Your dream,” he cleared his throat. “I could just picture it like a happy ending to a Disney movie. You know, they all have happy endings. Besides, I don’t think you’re insane for wanting a happy, peaceful life.”

“What’s insane about it is that I even imagined myself dying before Cathy. Getting buried before I got to bury her. I’ve never thought I’d live the day she wouldn’t, yet here I am… I wrote an entire script for the rest of my life in my mind, that’s why I spiraled down and down and down when it was not possible to play it out anymore. So, I stopped. It wasn’t healthy for me to continue obsessing over my ruined happy ending. I decided to live in the present. Write as I live on. Be more like Cathy, hopefully.”

There was little beer left in his can but he raised it anyway. “In the loving memory of Cathy Donovan, then.”

“I don’t have any drink left,” you gasped, lifting your can. “Cathy, I’m so sorry, you deserve the fruitiest of Martinis.” If Cathy was there, she would’ve laughed like a hyena, found it hysterical that you managed to call her fruity given the context.

After the honorary toast, Leon leaned back and intertwined his hands on his stomach, eyes fixed on the TV screen where Phoebus and Esmeralda were passionately kissing.

“The novel’s ending was not family friendly, I guess,” you mocked.

“I haven’t read it.”

“If you’re planning on reading it, my lips are sealed.”

“Don’t know if I have the time. I don’t mind, tell me.”

“It’s painfully sad. Esmeralda gets hanged, Quasimodo pushes Frollo from the cathedral tower in grief and rage. That’s the moment he realizes he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. He also refuses to let go of Esmeralda, starves himself holding on to her dead body in her grave. Years later, an excavation group finds their intertwined skeletons and when they try to separate them, Quasimodo’s bones crumble to dust.”

“Now that’s vile.”

Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart Baby, bang it up inside I'm not wearing my usual lipstick I thought maybe we would kiss tonight

Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am I know who you pretend I am

—Washing Machine Heart, Mitski

“How would I know I’d end up here?” you ask him, voice shaking. “We didn’t promise each other anything, so I didn’t have any hope.”

You want nothing more than to ask him about the teddy bear keychain he has in desk drawer, why he holds onto it, ask whether you should be relieved that it no longer has a key attached to it.

There is that gut feeling, clawing at your churning stomach, that tells you he has someone. Someone else who knows him better than you, who is a better match to him, who makes him happier.

Someone he loves.

“But we had sex, it made me question everything and I’ve come to the conclusion that we were both lonely and weren’t thinking straight. You acted like it didn’t change anything, it almost made me go crazy. Please say something so I can finally understand, Leon,” you cry out.

“I don’t regret it,” he declares. “I don’t regret what we did. And I know how we started this marriage, I assumed it would always be the same after you told me your feelings.”

“I admit I’m hard to be with.” Your head hangs to the side, brows furrowed. “It’s hard for me to trust someone as much as I trusted Cathy. I’m sorry it took two years for us to be candid with each other. I used to be laidback about who I slept around with before. Now, I don’t know, I think twice about how I should touch you, talk to you. I used to think romantic love was not for me, so I wasn’t worried when you proposed because you didn’t expect it. I thought it wasn’t for people like us.”

“But you are capable of love,” he emphasized. “I know you are. You’re so good to me all the time. You stay up all night worrying when I’m not home, cook food for me despite your hatred for it, remember the smallest things and help me out, talk to me when I can’t sleep. I can’t even repay you for any of it and you still continue to be good to me. See, you’re speaking in a way that’s making me think there’s a chance that you love me and I still can’t say it back.”

Your silent tears unsettle him, this is the first time you let him see you cry. He has heard it before, the soft sobs and small chokes at night when you didn’t know he was awake.

You sniffle, “I know you’re capable of it, too, Leon. If the reason you can’t say it back to me is what I think it is, you definitely are.”

You quickly wipe your tears with the back of your hand when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“There is someone, right? You love them.”

His silence speaks volumes and it becomes your acceptance.

“Don’t let this thing between us hamper it, okay? I’m fine with it. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to keep up the faithful husband act.”

“Jesus,” he howls. “Just how terrible do you think I am? This thing between us is our fucking marriage. Not some situationship. Although I can’t make you think otherwise because you refuse to. I’m only gonna say this once, okay? I respect you enough to not sleep around behind your back.”

“Thank you, Leon, but I’m saying it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You take both of his hands, wanting to remember the feel of him. “You love someone else and it’s okay. You’re better off with them. Hopefully they’re better at love than I am.”

You take off your ring and place it in your palm, caressing it. “I know I probably shouldn’t be asking for this but I got so used to the weight of it on my finger. Can I have it as a keepsake?”

He grips your wrist tightly, grimacing. “What are you doing?”

“This is me letting you go.”

“No.” He shakes his head, voice thick. The way he places the ring on your finger again is a wretched overcompensation for not doing it before. You two didn’t have rings at the wedding and you were the one to place it on your own finger after purchasing them. “You’re running away,” he speaks in a hoarse croak. “Where will you go this time, hm?”

“I’ll resign and move close to my sister.”

His palms are cupping your jaw, fingertips in your hair. Him closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours is a way of saying I can love you if you give me time, I know I can.

“Stay,” he whispers, narrowing your whole world down to his warmth and you shudder from it. “Just tell me what you need.”

I need you to love me more, love enough to fill me up till there’s no crack left for me to write happy ever afters that will never come true. I need you to fill me full up, love enough to drown it out. Drown me out.

“Kiss me.”

“That I can do, honey.”

You know perfectly well that you’re selfish for wanting him like this. However, you yearn for the still of his hands on you, the irresistible feel of his skin on yours.

A kiss is placed on your temple, another one on your damp cheekbone, another on your jaw. Your eyes are closed the whole time he moves slow with his kisses. He grazes his nose beneath your ear, bringing you close to the brink of tears again. His hot breath is licking the other side of your face after, pecking the corner of your mouth.

“Scoot,” he says before gripping your waist and tipping you towards his torso. “My back is killing me like this.”

You’re afraid of hurting him with your weight but he insists, pulling you and placing you on his lap, getting you to straddle him, your thighs encasing his on either side. Your face a few inches above his, he tips his head back and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You can see a gash on his shoulder that disappears down his back which you didn’t notice before and you become aware once again that this isn’t the right moment to ask him for this.

“Leon—”

He can tell you’re about to get off him and he shuts you up by pulling you in a crushing kiss, pressing your chest to his with arms around your back so you won’t get away. “Stay here, don’t run away from me,” he says between labored breaths. His fingertips dance on your sides, making the hair on the back of your neck stand. He can probably feel your heart thumping crazy against his chest.

You caress the indent on his chin with your pointer finger, leaning down to kiss it. Leon lets out a delicious sigh, hands feeling up the sides of your thighs.

“Why did you kiss me at the wedding? There was no one to see,” you finally ask.

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the side trying to remember it. “The officiant was there. And the photographer.”

You nod and his lips are on yours again, tender this time. He opts to place quick kisses over and over again when he’s done being gentle. A chuckle escapes you when his nose bumps yours.

Fingers drifting under your shirt, he scratches your back up and down with his blunt nails. Any inch of skin he comes across, he kisses. Earlobe, jaw, neck, shoulder peeking through shirt. One hand splaying his fingers on your back, middle finger in line with your spine, right between your shoulder blades, the other one comes up front, lifting the front hem of your shirt. “Take this off.”

He doesn’t move the hand on your back when you’re taking it off, eyes dropping down to meet the new exposed skin. But you feel too naked, even though he’s wearing the same amount of clothes as you. You hug him around his neck, careful not to hurt him, bare chests pressed together.

He clasps the tops of your arms, biting the inside of one bicep.

“Ouch.” You retreat. “Why did you do that?”

“Let me see you.” He tips you backwards after his hand comes up to your nape, your butt slides on his lap, making you sit right on his crotch. He lets out a content hum, not embarrassed of his half hard erection. You cling to his biceps although his hand on the back of your neck is securing you in place.

A kiss is planted to the base of your throat and then to each collarbone. The hand on the front cups the underside of your breast, goosebumps rising on your skin. A wet kiss on the valley of your breasts, his breath cooling it. A low moan from you when he takes a stiff nipple in his hot mouth, finally giving it some attention. He twirls his tongue around it, teasing, before licking it right.

Your hips move involuntarily, rubbing against him through clothes all the while he sucks, kisses, grazes teeth. A jolt of electricity travels down to your core when he switches sides, underwear clinging to your sticky folds. You keen into him, pushing your chest out when he begins to suck a bruise under your breast. Your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging on his damp strands.

You discern his knitted brows and inclined back before tapping his shoulder. “Leon, stop.”

He halts the moment he hears you. The sight of a string of spit connecting his lips to your chest is obscene. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re hurting. You should lay down,” you say while standing up.

His eyes never leaving you, he gets off the bed as well. He seizes you under your arms, picking you up with ease. “See, honey? I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” He doesn’t let you protest and nips at your bottom lip before sloppily kissing you, tongue claiming every crevice of your mouth.

“No, put me down!” you wail, kicking your feet in the air.

“Okay, okay,” he grins, setting you down on the floor. Your heated cheeks amusing him, he takes your hand and places it on the waistband of his sweatpants. “This is the only thing you need to worry about.”

You decide to be daring and slide your hand down, palming him through layers of clothing. “Fuck,” he huffs, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours, big hands pawing at your backside, fondling your ass. Your hand slips past his briefs, touching him without any barriers.

“Oh, just like that,” he encourages you when you pick up a pace. His abs tightening, it doesn’t take long for him to fully get hard. “Ah, wait—”

“Hm?” You look up at him, just holding him in your palm.

“Need to get a condom, be right back.” He squeezes your ass one last time. “You better take everything off,” he teases before stepping away to get to the bathroom.

Second thoughts come rushing to your mind the time he’s undressing and grabbing a condom in the bathroom. Maybe, you shouldn’t do this. It’s only going to make it harder for the both of you. You admitted loving him and he wasn’t able to say it back. But he told you to stay, he needs you, wants what you’re able to give him. And you desperately need to give him all you have, mind and body, even if it means for a short time.

Because you know you will never be able to love like this again.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a packet of condom is thrown on the bed in front of you, hands gathering your hair on one shoulder to return messy kisses to your neck from the back.

Your back meets his pecs, his erection snug between your bare ass cheeks, you sigh softly when his fingers find their way to your clit, making your spine tingle. You hold on to his forearm, clawing at his veins as he gathers your wetness from your entrance, back to circling your bundle of nerves with now soaked fingers. His bandaged hand urges you to spread your legs more before finding place on your throat. He ruts his hips against your ass, breathing loudly while you whine out incoherent sounds.

He groans your name, drawing your attention up to his scrunched face. “You’re so good to me.”

“Leon,” you whimper as he drags two fingers all the way along your slit, pumping them inside. The way you stretch around his fingers distracts him from the rhythm of his hips, making him still. But you crave the friction, arch back your own hips to get him to move again. Your hand winds around and finds his aching hard dick, thumb stroking the precum all over his angry red tip. Your head rolls back over his shoulder and you want nothing more than to properly see.

“Leon, I’m close,” you moan and push his hand away. “I want to see you.”

“Anything you want, honey,” he pants in your ear, tip of his tongue tracing the shell of it.

You crawl to the middle of the bed, endowing him the sight of your glistening slit before laying down on your back, waiting for him to get on top of you. He parts your legs, taking a good look before smearing his tip on your folds, a mix of your wetness and his precum making it extra slippery.

“Please,” you manage to make out, one arm across your chest, another resting on his shoulder.

He rips your arm from your chest and pulls both your wrists above your head. “I said let me see you.”

He doesn’t let you fuss, fucking up his cock against your clit, allowing himself the bare feel of you for a little while.

He kisses your pout away before retreating to roll the condom on. You hiss as his tip breaches your entrance, legs trying to close on instinct, but he’s laying between them. He gets you used to the feel of him inside before you nod for him to move, slowly at first. Once your back arches and your hips shift, he gets the message to piston his hips faster.

He searches for the right pace just by examining you, what your face does when he tries something new, how your back arches, by the sounds you make. Not too fast, not too slow, he eventually finds an angle you particularly like.

“Too good for me,” he chants whilst thrusting, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head. You notice the absence of his ring but you don’t worry about it because you know he leaves it on his desk when he’s away for a mission, not wanting to lose it.

Your legs hug him around his waist, heels pressing him into you deeper. “Yes, yes, yes…” You keep singing his name when you feel it building up inside.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he grunts, listening to the slaps of skin and your frantic cries of pleasure.

“Good ‘cause I’m so close.”

He takes that as a challenge, making sure you reach your high before him. He watches as you do, walls clenching down on his length, lips chasing his.

He’s cooing in your ear between your gasps, coaxing your bliss out of you. “I know, honey, I gotcha. You can let go.”

Your mouth opening in a silent moan as your orgasm ripples through you, hands trembling in his hold, legs trying to shut, your entire body quivering as you ride it out.

Irregular thrusts of his hips bouncing your breasts in front of him, he nestles his face between them, breathing in your scent. He noses the blossoming mark he left under there and moves slow, dragging it out as much as possible.

He sinks boneless on you, his weight feeling comforting rather than crushing. You embrace him as he softens out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He peels the condom off and lays on you for a while, head between your ribs, trying to catch his breath. You wipe away sweat from his temple, frowning.

“You’ll have to hop in the shower again.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he says, voice muffled and nasal. “And you’re coming with me, too.”

“Leon!” you shriek, playfully slapping his twitching bicep. “You shouldn’t tire yourself more.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I was gonna ask you to wash my back.”

After a few minutes, you drag him in the shower, helping him soap his back. He stands under the hot rain when you’re cleaning yourself with his body wash, eyes and hands wandering, groping here and there. You smack his naughty hands each time, can’t help but giggle. However, he’s tired and sleepy, so he’s only playing.

You offer to change his sheets but he insists on doing it in the morning and tugs your arm to your room, preferring to sleep in your clean sheets. He nearly falls asleep as you blow-dry your hair, waiting for you in the bed.

As soon as you’re snuggled up to him, he tucks you to his chest, chin on your forehead. Soft sighs tickle the crown of your hair.

“Can I ask you a question?” he murmurs, barely audible.

Your pointer finger stops drawing circles on his pectoral muscle. “Mhm?”

“After your mom and Cathy passed away, how did you survive? There has to be a reason.”

“I actually planned to end it all after both funerals. I told myself to just get past that week. It’ll all be over in a week. But there’s my sister. She came with me to help with Cathy’s funeral. Forced me to eat anything she could cook while I lived on autopilot. She was washing my hair in the sink when I realized I can’t leave her behind. It’s just not fair. She has a wonderful husband but a husband doesn’t mean forever— I mean, look at what my mother got. A deadbeat husband who left her with two little kids. My sister doesn’t have any kids. Worst case scenario, her husband leaves her and—”

He retracts abruptly to search your face, hand on your cheek to steer you to him. “So, you wrote a script again. With a sad ending.”

“My sister is my only family left. I don’t want her to live unhappily.”

“Hey, I’m your family, too. Why are you talking like I’m not here?” He presses a long, soothing kiss to your lips. His fingers tip your chin up. “Look at me. What do you have in that mind of yours? What kind of script do you have for us?”

You lie. “I don’t have one.”

He smiles. “Good. Because we’ll write one as we go on.”

(a/n: a very short part 2 will be posted here in a few days, keep an eye out for that. ty for reading!)

PART I | PART II | PART III (finale)

#leon s. kennedy #leon s. kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #i forgot to post this on tumblr #leon kennedy smut

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perpetuallyburntout · 8 months ago

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S4!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Strawberry Blonde - Mitski

‼️SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON FOUR OF UMBRELLA ACADEMY BELOW THE CUT‼️

Okay so I know I wasn’t the only person absolutely crushed by season four of Umbrella Academy, but in the middle of grieving over it, I had the best/worst idea. Technically a fanfic idea, but I don’t know if I have the commitment to write the whole thing, so if someone else would like to, by all means :)

The events of season four start six years after the end of season three. Six years of (mostly) peace. Let’s just say Five met someone in that time (for the sake of making sense, I’ll refer to them as Lover). Met someone he found himself falling for. And they fell for him, too. And it was perfect. And for the first time in a painfully long time, Five was happy. Content. He had his suspicions about how long this peace would last, but… for now, things were good. More than good, they were wonderful. He’d met the love of his life.

And then the events of season four begin to happen. And Lover is there with the group the whole time. At this point, they’re family, too. They want to help, and Five wants them to stay close to him.

Until he and Lila decide to go on their own on the subway, leaving Lover with the others. And in the seven years Five and Lila are stuck together, the same thing happens. And when they finally return, Lover knows something is off. And when the truth comes out, their whole world comes crashing down.

Diego grows angry. Lover just grows somber. It’s even worse, because when they look at Five again, his expression is different. The aching love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at them… it’s dulled to something faint. Still there, deep down, but… unsure. As if he’s questioning himself. Questioning what he should do now. Who he’d pick if given the choice.

Of course, he’s not given the choice. Not even the choice to take Lover far away and talk to them and really explain and try to do something. No, no… the world’s ending. For the final time. And he knows how to make sure it never comes to an end ever again.

Lover’s there for the entire conversation. Every bit of grief and anger they’d felt towards Five suddenly melts away, replaced by desperation. They’d let the world end for the rest of eternity if… if it meant maybe things could be different. If it meant maybe he’d love them, and maybe he’d never love anyone else besides them.

They’re eventually forced to leave with Lila’s family and get on the subway. And while everyone else is confused and emotional, they’re curled on the ground, gasping and sobbing, knowing what this means.

And the Hargreeves stop the world from ending. And all the timelines reset. And everyone else in the world gets their happy ending.

And Lover thinks they’re happy. They do. But they never fall in love again. For some reason, every time they think they find someone, an aching pain in their chest makes them hesitate. An unfamiliar voice calling their name makes them pause. A flash of something, perhaps a memory, too fast to register but not fast enough to ignore the heart wrenching pain of, makes them withdraw. It’s almost as if…

They’re waiting for someone that never existed.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

So! When I had this idea, I was listening to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski, and here’s how the lyrics played out in my head:

I love everybody because I love you

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I looked over it and I ached

(12:00 PM. August 8th, 2024. Lover’s enjoying their day in the park, sitting in the grass, eyes shut against the light breeze and warm sun. They turn to their side, almost as if to tell someone about how lovely the weather is. But no one’s there. A weird pain begins to ache in their heart.)

I love everybody because I love you

I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape

I picture it, soft and I ache

(Others—perhaps friends or family—come over and greet Lover, noticing their confused and distant expression, and ask what’s wrong. Nothing, they say, though they can’t escape the deep longing in their chest for… something that was never there.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

(Flashback timeeee- or… alternate timeline time? Flashback to a time in an alternate timeline, there we go.)

Reach out the car window tryna hold the wind

You tell me you love her, I give you a grin

Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape

So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines

Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

(Shows Five and Lover together, in love, making memories together. Happy.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(Events of season four began to play out, but ofc with Lover being part of the story.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(The climax of the story. Flashes of the last two episodes. Five and Lila returning, the explanation, the heartbreak, Five finding out how to save the world for good, Lover meeting his gaze one last time as the subway pulls away forever.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Lover repeating his name to themself, trying to remember for as long as possible, not able to let go.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Flashback ends, returns to Lover in the grass on that sunny day, murmuring the name to themself. They’re not quite sure why.)

°。°。°。°。°。°。

I hope you all enjoyed this little idea! I got a little rambly and wrote WAY MORE than I planned on, but it’s an idea I’ve fallen in love with this past hour and I wanted to be able to share it with all of you <3

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macsimagines · 2 months ago

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YANDERE!SHINICHIRO SANO ONE NIGHT STAND

ok so here it is. I hope it's ok I'm kinda iffy about it let me know what you all think!! this is worst timeline btw!!!

MINORS DNIWARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ONE NIGHT STAND, SPANKING AND DRINKING

You had no idea what you were even doing with your life. Late at night, in a run down jazz bar, you found yourself sitting on a stool sipping a cocktail all by yourself.

The piano on stage skillfully played a tune that was just pleasant enough for you to feel yourself to start to ease slightly. Maybe the drinks and bar itself weren't anything special, but at least there was music.

"Tastes like shit," a somber voice says to your side. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet a dark pair. Two onyx eyes that seemed to only reflect abyss.

Maybe on a different day you would have just ignored him, but tonight? You were feeling brave.

"What's wrong with it?" you inquire, suddenly finding the stranger fascinating. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark soul. You think you may have a type.

His eyes barely lift from his glass, a dark liquid swirling with his ice, "It's bitter." He answer plainly. Maybe his monotone response should make you reconsider trying to spark a connection...but something about his voice...

"It's... bourbon, right? You should've gotten a cocktail if you wanted something sweeter," you purr, pushing your own glass toward him, "Wanna taste mine?"

Finally, his eyes fully meet yours and something in the way that they analyze you has a shiver running across your skin. He's handsome, pretty even, and you find yourself feeling just a little hot under his intense stare.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. There's the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he's sliding his hand, purposefully brushing your fingertips, and taking the glass from you. Your eyes never break contact as he brings the glass to his lips, his tongue licking at the sugar coated rim first.

You can feel your thighs clench at the erotic image this stranger makes. Something inside of you aching with a sudden need. "Well?" you say, scooting in closer, "Better?"

"Dunno," the man says leaning in closer, "I'm in the mood for somethin' much sweeter." You feel a rough hand come up and firmly squeeze your thigh.

Maybe its the alcohol, the atmosphere, or those gorgeous void like eyes of his, but you find yourself checking into a hotel with that stranger. Yes. Stranger.

His name doesn't matter, what he does for a living or why he's in this part of town. The only thing that matters is how good his hands feel around your throat and inside your aching pussy.

You don't care about all his tattoos or the fact that their was a danger slowly growing in those perfect eyes of his. A strange sort of obsession?

Tonight, you don't fight. When his hand cracks down hard against your ass, you moan and beg for more. When he makes you kiss him and devours every sound you try to make. And not even when he's plunging deep into you and pounding like a man going for broke.

As you start to see stars and get light headed, you allow this man, a man whose name you didn't even care to know, to have his sick and depraved way with you.

"Be my good-girl," he purrs a rough hand coming to wrap around your neck, "Stick out your tongue for me." You end up mindlessly doing as he says, so eager to please. And your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick girth when he meets it with his own.

Shamefully, you're just moaning when you fill him cum inside you, loving the feeling. And finally the man stops his constant praise of 'Good girl, perfect woman, mine so fucking mine,' to look you in the eyes again.

There's something different about them. Almost child like and wide. There is the smallest light in them and through the haze of your orgasm you swear there was something else...

But you're so spent and exhausted that you end up passing out in his arms. You're sure it won't matter in the morning, either one of you will be gone. Right?

You're surprised to find him still sleeping soundly next to you. You can't believe your good luck when you find he was as beautiful as you had remembered him being. The pleasant soreness of your body also told you that the sex hadn't just been the greatest wet dream of your life.

Its a shame you have to go. You two might actually be compatible, but something like that just didn't work out for you. Maybe if things were different... No. You won't let yourself fall for some stranger.

You're trying to get yourself dressed and out the door as quietly as possible but something is grabbing your wrist and pulling you back-! Right into someone's solid chest.

"Quit makin' all th'racket," he slurs, nose rubbing into your neck, "Lay back down with me, baby."

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and his soft touches remind you of everything from the night before. Fuck you want to stay for another round- or 3 -but you really needed to leave. So you try to push back.

"S-Sorry for waking you. I'll be out in just a second. I'll leave my half of the bill-!"

"You're not fucking going anywhere, Y/N."

Ice quickly runs down your spine. You're very sure you didn't tell him your name. You were supposed to be nameless strangers after all.

You turn to glare at him seeing that he has his phone open. "I had a friend of mine do some diggin' on you after you passed out last night." He tells you calmly. Like he didn't just admit to doing a creepy back ground check on you.

"Let go of me." You demand fighting back harder, "I want to go home!"

This man only smirks from where he sits on the bed his eyes having gone back to being cold and dead. "You brought me back into the light, baby. I'm your home now."

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere shinichiro sano #yandere shinichiro #shinichiro sano #shinichiro sano smut

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my-starlights · 3 months ago

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ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ…

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which you stumble into your ex, Nanami Kento.

ʟɪᴍʙᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. Angst :: hurt/comfort :: fluff at the end :: sfw

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Nanami Kento :: Gojo Satoru

ʀᴜɪ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. It’s been a while since I wrote something haha… I said I’d do geto but Nanami has my heart so here we are 😭

ᴡᴄ. 1.1k

“Listen, let’s be mature about this, please.”

The light on your phone glares into your glassy eyes.

“I don’t want this either, but you’re not a child anymore.”

Even though you’re looking at couplecore posts on social media, Kento’s voice keeps breaking through.

Stupid lovey-dovey couples on Tik Tok. You angrily swipe at your eyes and press ‘not interested’ at the video.

“If you can’t handle this argument like an adult, perhaps you should take a step back from this relationship.”

Your phone suddenly turns dark - agh, it died - and with a huff you set it down to charge, looking at the ceiling. It’s been three weeks since your messy breakup with Nanami Kento, and social media isn’t helping you forget about you and your boyfriend’s - ex-boyfriend’s - argument; it started as a small confrontation about him overworking and ended with… with this.

You, leaving your shared home and going to your old Jujutsu Tech dorm.

Kento, still at his office, head in hands and unable to focus.

You know he’d never cheat; but it seemed like he was working to the bone. No more weekend dates or him coming home to you cooking dinner; he was at the office more than he’d see you, and for weeks on end. You’d been crying, begging him for a break from work, and him stoically telling you in an impatient voice that this was just what being an adult was.

The two of you never fought like this before. Ever since the argument, you feel as if a chunk of your being was forced away from you, leaving you empty. Alone. You feel a lump in your throat and swallow, blinking back more tears.

It’s time to move on, you reason with yourself. It was nearing midnight.

You sigh and close your eyes.

—

The next day, you wake up with the same sense of dread you’ve had in the past couple weeks, and just as you exit the old dorms… you see Gojo Satoru. Of course. You hadn’t seen him alone in a while, only with his girlfriend.

He spots you and strolls towards you, running hand through his hair. Was he… relieved?

Something’s awry.

“Ah! I’ve been looking for you,” he says, sighing as he takes in your somber appearance. “Everywhere. You have no idea.”

“Well here I am,” you say tiredly. “Why… why were you looking for me?”

“Nanami has been quite worried about you, you know. He wouldn’t tell me anything other than that. He’s asked me to look for you and taken time off from work, and everything.”

What? Kento off of work? This only happened on birthdays or holidays. And Gojo actually listening to Kento for once too? This has never happened.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Well, I don’t know why anyone’s looking for me. I’ve been here. Besides, Kento and I, we’ve broken up, so—“

“WHAT??” Gojo screeches, and you jump back, surprised by the noise. “YOU’RE NOT TOGETHER ANYMORE?”

You rub your temples. “Not anymore, I think? He said I should take a step back from our relationship, and—“

Gojo is about to screech again when Kento walks up, hair ruffled and tie loosened, looking ready to murder Gojo. “Leave,” he barks at Gojo. “You found her, now go bother someone else.”

You jerk away from the two men. What the hell is happening?

Kento moves up to Gojo mutters something into his ear; the latter turns pink and begins walking away, looking at you apologetically. Kento rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to you.

“Oh, love,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry about the past couple weeks. It wasn’t you who was immature, it was me.”

You look at him, defensive, eyes already slightly glassy. “You broke up with me. And now you want me back? That’s not how break ups work.” You pivot on your heel, heart breaking at his surprised face, and start walking briskly away, him quickly catching up.

“Love, I didn’t mean to… we’re not seriously broken up, are we? I never meant to… I was speaking without thinking, please don’t tell me you thought we’re broken up…”

You turn to Kento abruptly, still walking. “What was I supposed to think?” You say, incredulous.

“No, no, no, love, I’m so sorry, please just stop walking—”

“—Kento, I’m not mature enough for you. I don’t take what you take seriously, I’m childish near you, and you made that clear. I understand now—“

You’re interrupted by Kento falling to his knees in front of you. “Love,” he says, collecting your palms in his hands. “Please forgive me. I was the immature one, you’re too good to me, you were looking out for me—“

“Kento please get up—“

“—You need to understand this. You’re the love of my life, how could I ask that you step back? I’m ruined without you—“

“—Kento, please just—“

“—you’re the love of my life, I’m so sorry, I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I’ve started going only part-time at my job. I’m ready to do the best I can for you. You were worried about my well being and I punished you for it. Please just forgive me…”

Tears finally start rushing down your face, but Kento doesn’t let go of your hands. “Oh, Ken…” you sniffle. “You started part-time? For me? Please get up, I…. Let me hug you….”

He rushes up, feeling the blood run to his head, but he doesn’t care; you hug him hard, still crying. He feels a stab in his chest every time he feels a tear sink into his shirt.

You mumble against his broad chest. “I forgive you,” you mumble. “I missed you, Ken. I love you.”

He wraps you in a hug, looking down and cupping your face. His usually steady voice tremors slightly. “Am I still your… are we still together?”

You smile up, eyes watery, at him. “If you’ll have me.”

He hugs you hard. “There is no universe in which I don’t want you. I… let’s not do this here, love. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Your eyebrows crinkle in a way Kento didn’t realize he missed. You look up at him. “Home?”

“You think I just meant to apologize and move on? No, love, I have gifts for you. And a dinner planned. I don’t want to spend any more time at work that I could spend instead with you.”

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his, then lean upwards to peck his cheek. “I love you, Ken,” you say, stepping back.

The somberness, the loneliness you felt just this morning, fade away. The part of you that broke after your fight seems to mend itself back into you. Finally, you’re….

Complete again.

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mooooonnnzz · 7 months ago

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hi!!! I fell in love with your content and I wanted to make a little request, since it was on my mind for a while...

It's kinda cringe but I saw your hc's/fic about Stan's and Ford's reaction to their daughter having a partner, but what would they say about the break-up??? how would they react?? 💔💔

I'm Glad There Is You

Stan + Ford HC's of you getting broken up with!

ʚ♡ɞ 4,2k words

ʚ♡ɞ we're so back

ʚ♡ɞ i've been cooking this up for the past few days mwehehe

ʚ♡ɞ i won't be publishing fics as frequently! but its better cuz i wont be pushing out poopy fics. i can actually take my time with them and make em better :3

ʚ♡ɞ that's all enjoy! request are still open too :p

🎱 Stan

𝄞 Stan hadn’t suspected a thing when he saw you rush into your room after being out all day. You occasionally do that when you were exhausted and had no more battery left in you to uphold another conversation. But, when he saw you all disheveled in appearance. Not bothering to glance at him, let alone tell him about your day, he knew something was up. Springing your wellbeing in the conversation was tricky. He knows that if he straight up asked if you’re okay, you’d burst out into tears and cry out incoherent words that sounded like mushed up sobs into his ear. So how could he ease you into talking about yourself without having you break down? For the remainder of the day, he was tackling himself with ways he could ask about how you’re doing, stemming from slapping a sticky note on your forehead to passing a note under your door. But none of them seemed effective. His brain was splitting into two. He couldn’t decide and the day was coming to a close. The orange overhang of the sun shone into the shack and Stan was contemplating on asking your partner why you were sad because if he didn’t know what was going on, your partner had an idea or the full picture. He decided against it though. Maybe this was something you’d rather keep to yourself?

𝄞 The stress was so bad he had to go outside for a quick smoke. Seeing you in an emotional state of disarray sends him into one as well. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and pinched it in between his lips. Craning his head up a bit to light up the cigarette, he shielded the orange flame sparkling to life from the wind with his cupped hand. He blew a stream of smoke into the evening air, his electrifying nerves nulling into a soft calming buzz. He knew smoking was bad for him, but he couldn’t stray away from it in times like these. The door to the front porch painfully creaked open. Looking over his shoulder, he softly smiled upon seeing you. “Pumpkin,” He pats the side right next to him. You take the seat and inhale the crisp air—well, from what you can get with all the cigarette smoke littering the air. “Second hand smoking is way worse than first hand.” You mention, delicate amusement trailing in your words as you take a seat beside him.

𝄞 “You’re the one who walked out here knowing I was smoking.” He replied with a flick of his hand. Another trail of smoke escapes his mouth as he exhales, his body visibly relaxing into the familiar routine. “I should get a cigarette too.” You stretched out your arms, cracking a small smile. “Heh,” Stan flicked the cigarette, small shreds of ashes trickling down from the burning end of the stick. “You think you’re funny.” You nod intensely. “I think I’m very funny.” You look off into the horizon, eyes carrying such a thick somber look to them Stan had to finally ask the question he had been beating around the bush for who knows how long. “You okay, kiddo?”

𝄞 Your eyes glisten over with tears, bottom lip trembling as you hold back the words you’ve been dreading to say to your dad the minute news broke out to you. “Oh, [Name].” Stan burnt out his cigarette, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. The pure affection coming from Stan made you pour out more tears, trembling sobs wracking your body as you mournfully cried onto his shoulder. “Let it out, sweetpea.” His hand comfortingly patted your back. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but maybe you needed a quick cry to comfortably tell him what happened. His stomach churned as the suspicion of the reason why you were crying into his shoulder rose. He had a feeling on why you were acting like that, but he had hoped he was wrong.

𝄞 He wasn’t wrong. He was right, unfortunately for him. After recollecting yourself to the best of your ability, Stan had discovered that your partner had broken up with you earlier today for reasons that they had not specified. Frustration bubbled up inside Stan and it took every bone in his body to not slam his fists on your ex’s door, gun in hand to shoot them down for breaking your heart. Instead, he opted to swallow down his anger and tend to you. You needed him to be right by your side and he wasn’t going to suddenly up and leave to shoot down a person. He’d wind up in jail and then you would have to deal with the loss of your partner and your dad. The thought sent chills down his spine. You peeled yourself off his shoulder, leaving a slobbering teary eyed stain on suit. “I’m sorry.” You mutter, eyes red and burning from the force of squeezing them closed. “It’s okay, sweetpea. You don’t need to apologize for things like this, you know that right?” His thumb swipes a stray tear off your cheek. “I know,” You hiccup. Stan seeing you like this infront of him shredded his heart into tiny little pieces. Who could hurt you like this? How could someone protect his child’s heart and break it the next day? Your partner even promised that they’d never pull a stunt like this, and yet here you are, bleary eyed and sniffily.

𝄞 Your face pinched with a forever sorrowful look and for a second he thinks that he’s never going to have you back, he’s never going to see your smile ever again and that alone terrifies him. There has to be something that can cheer you up, right? You’re not forever stuck in this pool of sadness? This is something someone can get over right? All prior knowledge to his personal relationship flies off his head and out the window. He removes himself from his thoughts and grounds him in the moment. What is something that’ll cheer you up? An idea sprouted in his mind. “Want to watch a movie with your old man?” He doesn’t know how you’d respond to his offer and it slightly scares him. He’s never been able to fully predict your every move, but he has made some sense of them later on, but he’s never seen you in this state before and he doesn’t know what to expect. “I’d like that.” You meekly nod your head and Stan has to contain himself from lurching up into the air and cheering out in happiness. Rather, he clears his throat and broadly smiles at you. “I’m gonna take a real quick shower. Pick out a movie you wanna watch and I’ll be back in no time.”

𝄞 The rest of the night was spent snuggled up in the sofa, a blanket of yours of when you were a kid was draped over you and Stan. It barely gave you any coverage but you claimed that it did when Stan would mention it. Stan didn’t want to disagree with you and besides, the blanket reminded him of when you were a little kid, carefree and giddy with little to no knowledge of idiotic people who’d carelessly shatter your heart and leave you without any consolation. The movie that was playing was and still is an all time favorite of yours. You and Stan had memorized the lines that have been forever sewn into your brain from how many times you forced Stan to watch it when you were little. Guess some things don’t change. The days following are full of extensive care and love, enough that would be overbearing to anyone that wasn’t you–at least sometimes.

𝄞 Fishing outings were a must. Stan would rapidly knock on your door, standing on the other side decked head to toe in his fishing outfit. Your fishing hat in hand. You couldn’t say no to him when he’s looking at you with such a sad look in his eyes and dressed up, putting on your worn fishing hat that has seen better days. Stan proudly smiled at you, wiping off a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why are you crying, Dad?” You chuffed nervously. “My eyes are sweating!” He covered his eyes with his forearm, violently sobbing as he walked away to get the fishing gear. In his defense, he hasn’t gone fishing with you in a good long while and seeing you wearing your fishing outfit really triggered the water works in his eye. The past week has been an emotional wreck for you and him, who could blame him? You had forgotten how much fun fishing was. A laugh rattles through your throat as you reel back your fishing rod. This must be your third attempt in catching a fish, and Stan’s enthusiastic commentary struck a funny cord within you. With a few more tugs and reeling back, you caught the fish. “Awesome catch!” He patted your back with so much force, you jolted forward, making the boat lean to the side, causing you to lose your footing and drop the fish in the water. When you were about to revel in your loss, you heard a large splash and large droplets of water sprinkling over you. You turned your attention over to where the splash was heard and to your luck, Stan bobbed his head out of the water, gasping dramatically as his arms flailed around. “Dad!” You laugh.

𝄞 “The water isn’t even that deep.” Talking was a task to do with how hard you were laughing. “Oh.” He stopped thrashing around and allowed him to sink to the bottom of the lake floor. And to his surprise, the water barely even passed his upper chest. That realization made you hunch over in laughter. “Oh, stop laughing!” He grabbed onto the edge of the boat and tried pulling himself up, but the sudden shift in weight made the boat tip over, sending you and all the other belongings in the boat into the freezing water. “[Name]!” He looked to where you were under the water, ready to dive in and grab you from below when you sprung out of the water. You stared at him, cheeks puffed as you struggled to hold back your laughter. “Oh, whatever.” His initial panic was washed off with playful annoyance. “Go ahead, laugh at your old man.” He rolls his eyes upon hearing your boisterous laughter echo in the air. “That was insane!” You wrap your arms around Stan’s neck, hoisting yourself up so you don’t drown while laughing. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh at this poor old man who’s clearly struggling.”

𝄞 Singing your favorite songs in your karaoke machine was his favorite way to catch you off guard. He’d notice you reminiscing on the past and he’d make a beeline to your machine, slamming the buttons that would turn it on and play a song that you like. His gruff scratchy singing voice always pulled you out of your mind and into the present moment. Walking into the living room where he relocated your karaoke machine for times like these, you couldn’t help but laugh as he passionately sang into the microphone. “Disco girl, coming through! That girl is you!” He points the microphone at you, motioning you over to join him. It takes some convincing but when you do, you and him are blissfully singing your hearts out into the microphone.

𝄞 Seeing your partner around town was an immediate mood kill for Stan. Unaware and in a chipper mood, he found himself in the grocery store. Stacking up on food and snacks to fill your stomach and his. When strolling into the available cash register, his smile curls into a grimace when he sees who was behind the counter. “You,” he spat out. “Ah, Mr. Pines!” They nervously chuckled. “Good to see you. How’s it been?” They can’t make eye contact. The lazer like glare Stan was giving them was enough to know that things haven’t been good. Grabbing an item from the shopping cart, he hovered it over the conveyor belt, mulling over his thoughts. He could not pay for this and run out of the store or he could unscrew the carton of milk and squirt it all over your ex. Or maybe, he could do both? With speed no one could comprehend, he undid the lid and spilled the milk all over them, chucking the empty carton right on their head for extra measure. He then grabbed the cart and bolted out of the grocery store, leaving everyone in the store stunned. “Is anyone going to arrest him or?” A random passerby asked, watching how your ex just stood there, completely befuddled with milk dripping down their body.

𝄞 “Dad? Why is the news saying that you assaulted a worker in the grocery store with milk?” Stan scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see on the news, sweetie.” He takes a good sip of his pitt cola. “But it shows camera footage of you doing it.” You gesture to the video that was playing. “Fake news. You know how technology is advancing. They can make anything these days.” He grabs the remote and switches channels. “There! Now, we don’t have to see that.” You smile, elbowing him. “It was cool that you did that.” You mutter. He chuckles. “The kid deserved that.”

𝄞 Drives around the town and wreaking havoc in rival attraction traps were a good stress reliever and anger outlet. You were swinging with all your might, your axe that was in hand was splintering through the large wooden statue. “Keep going!” Stan was serving as a lookout, his eyes switching through the front door and to you. Sweat rolled down your temples as you delivered one last final blow to the statue. The statue slowly tipped forward. “Let’s go.” Stan urgently whispered, running back to the family van with you in tow. Stan started the van and sped out of the parking lot and into the driveway. “God dammit, Stanley Pines!” The person emerged from his house, shaking his fist in the air. You clapped your hands together, laughing. “That was a fun one.” You noted, swiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt. “Who’s next?” You ask eagerly. “Check on the map. You decided where we will go next.” This was the first time you fully smiled at him with your signature laugh following after. No remnants of sadness stuck to you. He knew right then and there that he got you back.

📖 Ford

𝄞 Ford was peacefully slumbering on the couch when the front door was slammed shut, scaring him awake. He jolted forward, the book that was covering his face fell flat on his lap, startling him. “[Name]?” He closes the book in his lap and pushes it aside. You didn’t respond and he was quickly resorting to the idea that it wasn’t you. Creeping towards your room, his knuckles knock on the door. “Sweetie?” He puts his hand on the knob and very slowly turns it. “I’m coming in.” He announces. Opening the door, his eyes land on your back. Quiet sniffles and hiccups could be heard coming from you and Ford’s heart clenched in his chest. He never liked hearing you cry. “[Name]?” He settles himself down on your bed. He couldn’t get to see your face properly since you were curled inwards with your blanket slightly obstructing your face, but he could see your body quiver as you suppressed your sobs. Ford sucked his bottom lip into his teeth. Equally as clueless as his brother, he doesn’t know how to approach this. He hadn’t had the slightest idea of why you’re crying and that truly bugs him.

𝄞 His hand rests on your hip, fingers tapping in a soothing rhythm. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He’s chewing on his lip, anxiety running its full race through his body, relentless and awfully energetic. He’s sure by the end of this, he wasn’t going to have a bottom lip from how much he was nibbling on it. You shuffle further into your blanket in response. “You don’t wanna talk about it?” He croaks out. He never liked when you pushed him away in your most vulnerable moments. He knows you mean well but he detests being in the unknown. You let out a small hum. He had learned over the years that two hums were yes and one was no. It was a very asbured way to communicate but it did come in handy when you weren’t in the mood to talk. This was a way of telling him that you weren’t in the mood prevented Ford from asking an assault wave of questions.

𝄞 “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Two hums. Patting your waist, he shuffles to the other side of your bed and plops down right next to you, mindlessly staring off into the ceiling. His anxiety was still pounding through his body, his clammy hands and beating heart proved that but it quelled a little of it knowing that you wanted him beside you. That you found comfort in his presence. He’d hope you did, he didn’t raise you all these years just for you to hate him. Wait, you don’t hate him, right? You could never hate him. He’s your dad! Can kids hate their own parents? He hated his dad so that can be a generational—

𝄞 “I think hear your overthinking from here, Dad.” Your voice comes out muffled from speaking through the blanket covering your face. He blinks, swallowing his doubt and looking over to your blanket covered face. “Sorry,” he lets out a dry laugh, scratching his cheek. “It wasn’t my intention to annoy you.” You pull the blanket down to the bridge of your nose, allowing Ford to see your irritated swollen eyes. “You’re not annoying me, Dad. You being anxious makes me anxious.” Ford cracked a smile. “Like father, like child.” That managed to pull a smile from you. “Unfortunately, I grow to be more like you everyday.” You say with a roll of your eyes. An overdramatic offended gasp leaves Ford. “And that’s a bad thing, how?”

𝄞 Playful banter was tossed between the two of you, each quick remark and quip allowed you to pick yourself up from the hole you were cowering in. After a while, you mustered up everything you had and told him about the break-up. Ford really couldn’t believe it at first. You had to repeat it to him twice much to your dismay but once he caught what you said, his face fell. “They were a waste of time anyways.” He said with a flick of his wrist. “Dad!” You weren’t expecting him to come off so strongly over hearing the news. “It’s true. They couldn’t even take my work seriously! How could someone laugh at my face when I tell them that aliens are real? Someone is clearly stuck in the stone ages.”

𝄞 He was riding on the mindset of you need to forget this person and move on. Wallowing over losing them wasn’t ideal and you need to distract yourself with other things to prevent yourself from dwelling back on the thought of them. He was done with your ex, so should you. But he was real quick to find out that you weren't exactly like him in that aspect. He’d find you resting on the couch, eyes mindlessly staring at the TV as you’re cuddled up with blankets upon blankets. Tear marks were stained on your cheeks. Maybe you couldn’t distract yourself? Maybe he should be the one that distracts you? He’d scribble drawings of you and him on a piece of paper and fold it up into a cute little airplane and toss it over to you. You would unwrap the little gift with a smile, tears clouding your eyes. “Aw, Dad...” You held the piece of paper to your chest.

𝄞 Your favorite dinner would be cooked almost everyday, and if you have more than one, you bet he’d be coking it up in the kitchen, offering different favorite meals every night. Anything that would bring the smile on your face back. Adventures out into the woods, just like old times, was a thing he’d bring you along with. Even when you did protest and groan, whining how you would rather cry into your pillow, Ford stood his ground and made sure that you got ready for the adventure he had meticulously planned. The minute you step into the familiar lush woods, a sense of calmness falls over you and suddenly you’re a kid skipping around in the woods, in search of anything to show Ford so he could write about the new discovery in his book. Finding old discoveries lightened a smile on your face and unknowingly to you, Ford would draw you in his book like how he did when you were younger. Old habits die hard.

𝄞 A lot of nights were spent you talking your feelings out to Ford. He was a good listener and had a few quips of advice to lend over, since he’s been in a similar but not so similar predicament. But he was more intent on listening to your concerns and anxieties. “I can’t believe I let them do that!” You plop your back down on your bed, anger spilling out of you in sharp words. He shook his head, a very sassy “mhm,” leaves him. “They didn’t deserve you anyways.” He moved his finger side to side. “Why are you acting like that?” You laugh, gingerly pushing him. “Don’t your friends act like that when something happens?” You beam from ear to ear, a loud laugh escaping you. “No! Where did you even get that from?” Ford shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought they did?” He pretended to act clueless and with a big smile of his own, he watched you curl up in laughter over his ridiculous act. He could only think of how much he missed your smile and beautiful laugh.

𝄞 Seeing your ex at the mall was a surprise both for him and them. Ford was scanning the shelves in search of something to get you when they approached them. “Sir, do you need any he…” Their words die in their throat when they register who they’re talking to. Ford hasn’t made the correlation yet, his attention so wrapped up in finding you the perfect gift. “Do you need any help?” They repeat, their voice cracking. Ford lazily looks over to them, dismissing them before looking back. Then, a look of recognition washes over him and he whips his head over to them. “You!” He loudly yelled. Customers in the store glance over to them. “Mr. Pines, keep it down.” They stressed out, teeth gritted together. “I will–.” An idea came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He rolled his shoulders back, untensing them. They look to the side, uncomfortable with the sudden change. “You’re sorry?” They repeat in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way.” A strained smile pulled to his face as he bid goodbye. Stepping out of the store, he sees you happily munching on a blueberry muffin you bought from the bakery. “Hi, Dad! You got anything?” He looks around you. “Do you have any food?” You place your muffin down on the table and grab the bag full of treats. “Yeah. I got some–” Ford dipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a cookie. His other hand digs into the inner pockets of his coat and pulls out a vial of pink sprinkles. “I knew I was going to use this at some point.” He mutters to himself, popping off the cork. “What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he sprinkled it onto the cookie.

𝄞 “You’ll see.” He winks at you before scooping it off the table and walking back into the store. Minutes later, he comes out with a big sinister smile on your face. “What did you do, Dad?” He pointed at the entrance of the store and it didn’t take long to see what he did. A flamingo human-like creature erupted into the store, squawking crazily as their head desperately swiped from side to side, looking for someone. Their black beady eyes landed on you and Ford. An angry squawk was heard from them, their chicken like legs slapping on the floor as they charged at you and Ford. “Run!’ Ford grabbed your wrist and darted away. In a quick swiping motion, you grabbed your bag full of treats before being whisked away. Loud bird noises were heard behind you and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Who is that chasing us?” Ford took a quick turn into another store, shuffling past people and hiding in a discreet corner with you. “That may be your ex angrily chirping at us.” You clapped your palm onto your mouth, an effort to muffle the laughter that left you. “Of course you’d do something like that!” The rest of the day was stealthily trying to escape the mall without being pecked to death by a very angry flamingo. When you did, you were laughing all the way to the car. “Do you always have that around for times like this?” Ford nods. “You’ll never know when you need to make someone a flamingo.” The automatic slide door pulls apart. “Pines!” The now fully turned flamingo human hybrid squawked out. “Get in the car, hurry!”

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

dm or comment if you want to be added to my taglist :3

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines #ford pines x reader #stan pines #stan pines x daughter!reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines x child!reader #stanley pines x daughter! reader #stanley pines x child!reader #ford pines x child!reader #ford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x child!reader

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efy727 · 25 days ago

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Role Swap AU: Susie and Taranza

Hey, hey, hey, new roleswap au!

Ok, ok. I finally decided to post this. This thing is being in the works since 2023. I originally kept it to myself as I perfected the designs and story (and got swept away by other projects...) but here it is: My Kirby Role Swap Au!

It started out with just the idea what if THESE TWO swapped roles. Triple Deluxe and Planet Robobot are some the most thematic heavy games, gardens and technology, fairytales and sci-fi, a kingdom and a company.

I kind of goes against my usual patterns, I usually show off main characters first, but I think this duo represents better my vision. I'll slowly showcase other characters whenever I get the chance.

Anyway, let me elaborate in my au versions of these characters.

Taranza:

A young inventor from a distant planet and a rather recent hire of Sectra Labs Inc., a company that specializes in biotechnology and bionics, that is genetic manipulation and mechanical enhancements. This company explores the universe to harvest new specimens for their experiments. In their travels, Taranza hopes of reuniting with an old friend.

When thinking about this au, I didn't want things to be just changing roles, but also a few story details and how they play out. So, I made SLI a bio tec company instead of a robotics one.

Taranza, then, doesn't use magic but his own inventions (he doesn't have any genetic alterations as he is new). I drew how electricity just bolts from his gloves, he also has invisibility and a sticky solution he can shoot. I also gave him these expressive goggles just because I like those.

In story, he is a bit peeved about having to deal with the interloper in his first planetary harvest trip; but we also get to see a dorkier side of him as he gushes about what he or the company has made to deal with the pink pest, I'm thinking Varian from Tangled.

But also, as the plot moves, he grows concerned about how intrusive the harvest process actually is as he joined for a legit interest of helping improving lives using processes of nature, like Joronia used to do. Oh, the pain he will find in the end.

Susie:

Through the islands of Crystalia descended a mysterious lady who captured Lord Meta Knight, but why? Whatever her mission is, she won't tell. Yet it's clear she will use any tricks to not let anyone get in her way. With her magic crystal, she can control the elements.

Oh Susie, Susie, Susie. I had this long conundrum. Ok, Tanzy has mechanical enhancements to replace magic, but in a way different to how Susie uses tech (it wasn't always like that); but how do I do something similar to Susie?

I came up with the wand, but that wasn't enough. This came up to me recently, but what if she could just create elemental armor around her? Something like how certain character does in Ninjago Dragons Rising; but is wind, is water, it can be anything! She does have other things too, like her crossbow.

She is a woman on a mission, but this time is Crystalia instead of Floralia. I wanted something natural and pretty, but that kinda aligns better with the characters involved. Kirby still has to climb the Dreamstalk using Sunstones, though.

Opossed to Taranza, Susie seems to have some sort of secret plan. She is less chatty, acts more somber. Could it be related to her being a wanted fugitive by the kingdom?

Ok, this winded up longer than intended. I hope you find my idea interesting. I'll get to more entries when I can, might drop at random days, I have other projects I want out. Could look up "EFY's Kirby role swap au" to find more entries... or just follow me (・・。)ゞ

Thanks for taking some interest!

#I do still make kirby content guys #kirby #au #role swap au #susie haltmann #taranza #kirby fanart #more to come #EFY's Kirby role swap au

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miyuka1709 · 2 months ago

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I want to write Sommie but I'm lazy and also I have no idea what to do with her, her psyche, her themes.

So I decided to just play the Stranger route and write down all her possible dialogues alongside Sinist's.

(Spoilers for Chapter II : The Stranger under the cut)

> For all I know, you're locked up down here for a reason. Do you know why you're down here?

Somber : “But you know, right? You have to know. You're the only other person I've ever seen, or at least the only one I can remember. Don't give me false hope. Please just end this already. One way or another, just do it.”

Sinister : “Don’t be coy. We both know why I'm locked away here. I'm a monster, and the second I get out of this place, I'm going to end the entire world.”

> You're apparently a threat to the world. I was sent here to slay you.

Sinister : “Because I am. Everything you've heard about me is true, and I am going to lay waste to everything. Starting with you.”

> If I let you out of here, what are you going to do?

Sinister : “Besides, you already know what I'm going to do.”

Somber : “If you want to put an end to me, then put an end to me.”

> Getting down here was… weird. Like I was pulled apart and put back together again. Do you know what happened to me?

Somber : “We're probably stuck down here forever, aren't we? There's no way out, and barely a way in.”

Sinister : (Oho~) “I thought they would send something better to deal with me. If the stairs managed to chew you up, I will devour you.”

> What's your name?

Somber : “It doesn't matter. I've been down here for so long. What's the point of a name if there's no one around to use it?”

Sinister : “I don't need a name. My name is whatever hushed whispers follow in the wake of my devastation.”

> There's more of you now

Somber : “I don't feel like I've gotten any bigger.”

Sinister : “It must be fear creeping into your heart. You know you can't stop me.”

---

Now I just have to spend a week thinking about what to do about them and trying to come up with a somewhat unique voice for their chapter IIs

Somber/Hopeless is basically Broken if he was a Princess? Whiny, sad, seeks peace, safety, comfort, passive.

Sinister is basically Nightmare Princess but less scary or powerful.

Now what

#slay the princess #stp #stp princess #stp fanart #stp somber #stp sinister #i love sommie she's so cute #shitslays

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coquettecouture · 2 months ago

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Achieving the iconic 2015 look as a 2025 girl!

Have you ever told yourself you were born into the wrong generation? Maybe it’s the nostalgia of listening to One Direction on your iPhone 5, or maybe you’re older and can enjoy it more now. Whatever the case may be, if you’re reading this you also miss the good energy of the 2013-2016s. And if that is the case, this is the post for you! Achieving a real and authentic 2015 inspired year is nowhere near as unobtainable as it might seem. From youtube, to fashion inspo let this post be your guide to unleashing your inner icon!

Fashion Inspiration!

King kylie, Bella Hadid, Ariana Grande and Sky Ferreria! All iconic and well known fashion icons. Whether you're a Pinterest 2014 girl or a Tumblr 2015 one, you at least are familiar with one. Luckily a huge part of the era's fashion is it's simplicity. Depending on the sub-style you're going for, your inspiration can range anywhere from shabby chic to grunge!

Regardless of color, most of the essentials remain the same. Skater girl skirts? Make it pink or black, and it works no matter the aesthetic! Though for some things, such as the coquette shabby chic, try things like floral wedges and flowy dresses! And for grunge, try flannels, black skinny jeans and converse! Fashion is all about what works for you, which is why it's important to find your style before anything else. Fashion inspo is just as unique as you are!

Movies and Books!

Of course, to really embrace the energy of a 2015 icon, you have to surround yourself with it! Staple movies like, The Fault in our stars and Paper towns are a way one ticket to nostalgia. Other movies such as Divergent, The Hunger Games, The Great Gatsby and If I Stay are perfect additions to your 2015 movie nights! My personal favorite movies of the time are All the bright places, Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List and LOL. The early 2010's were the best movie era in my opinion and this filmography list proves it!

The books however, are an entirely more diverse subject. While most 2010's movies are either mostly dystopian or romance, the books are a whole different ballpark. From horror to romcom to sci-fi, there's a fit for everyone! The most popular choices are of course John Green and your typical dystopian series; however, I raise a much larger choice of selections. In terms of sci-fi with a mix of romance the Caster Chronicles series (Beautiful Creatures) is a phenomenal series and an even better movie. If horror is more your speed, Natasha Preston's The Cellar and Welcome to the Dark House by Parker Bradley are definitely CoCo approved! Finally for the love nuts, aka me, To All the Boys I've Loved Before is a classic and obvious choice, but I would be a fraud to not include it!

Music Music Music!

One beautiful thing about the 2010's is it's consistency in music that makes you feel! For most people, that feeling is sadness LOL. However, there is poetry in that writing which makes the inner ache of somber all worth it for the bliss of melody. Artists like The 1975, Marina, Lana Del Rey and Lorde are all versatile and perfect artists to get you right back in that nostalgic state!

Whether you're looking for a more girlish vibe or a darker energy, the 2010's are a great time for whatever musical desires you have! I will leave my link to my 2014 playlist right here! Whether you use it for yourself or inspiration is up to you! Please let me know in the comments if you end up liking it, or link your own playlists!!!

Room Decor!

The quickest way to achieve a realistic 2015 inspired room is to go onto Pinterest and find your niche! For some super personal ideas on how to make your room aesthetically you, check out some old DIY YouTube videos. They range from various aesthetics, and you can personalize them anyway you please! My favorite youtubers to watch are MyLifeAsEva, LaurDIY, Alisha Marie and of course my queen of DIY Bethany Mota.

For the overall aesthetic, if you’re one of the grungier girls, opt for posters like The 1975 or The Neighborhood. Things like black throw pillows or printed out photos of you and your friends are perfect for achieving your look. Cutting out clippings from magazines and making collages is also a fun and free way to personalize your room!

Now if you’re like me and you’re more of a pink girl, try floral sheets like tulips or daisies! Fur throw pillows and double sided sequin pillows are a good touch for your bed too. Posters like Lana Del Rey and Ariana Grande are more 2015-esque touches, along with string lights and polaroids!

No matter the aesthetic, what’s really important is personalization! You don’t want your room to be the same as everyone else’s, it should be unique and showcase who you are!

In Conclusion..

Whether you’re a Tumblr grunge or a Pinterest shabby chic, I hope this guide helps you in any way it can! The most important thing about truly making this year your dream aesthetic is all in your experience. 2025 is what you make it! Whether it’s staying at home all day reading TFIOS, or if it’s going out and taking polaroids on the beach. Any year can be any aesthetic you want, as long as you hope it so. Even small things like hanging out with friends or watching nostalgic YouTube videos can make your year what you want it to be!

Thank you so much for reading, and for all of the support I have gotten! I truly haven’t been posting for long, but I have already made friends and gotten so much love and I want to thank you all so very much for it! If there’s anything you’re interesting in me reading, or want a more in depth explanation for, please let me know in the comments! I love you divas, stay cutesy!

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gothicxreylover · 2 months ago

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Hello! I thought of this scenario that I'd love to make a request to you. I have this weird obsession with the Hashiras (and Tengen's wives) so I'd like to go with them this time as well. Everyone in the scenario below is members of the Corps.

「After coming back from a long mission that took several days, the Hashiras found y/n, their object of adoration, looking somber and refusing to look at them. Many questions and words of comfort later, y/n reluctantly turned to them, revealing a swollen dark bruise on one side of their face, a teary eye and a slight bloody lip.

Truth revelation: the bruise came from a powerful smack/slap to the face but it was y/n defending another person, who happened to be a friend y/n made in the Corps. Y/n just wanted to stop a petty, meaningless fight between them and the mean assailant (a typical bully) in peace. But the bully decided to attack their friend so y/n acted without a thought.

In the end, the whole ordeal was stopped but ended with pain and spilled blood. However, y/n understood their beloved's yandere traits too well as they were lowkey scared for the bully's sake if they knew. Hence y/n trying to hide the whole thing and tend to their injuries by themselves.」

Haha this random idea stemmed from a scene from a drama I saw long ago. Anyway, take your time and no need to rush. I'm sure it will turn out amazing with your writing. Have a nice day!

Ahhh! This is a good scenario! Here’s your story and I hope you enjoy it! I wrote Tengen and his wives separately.

[Scene: The Corps’ Headquarters, Late Evening]

After days of grueling battles and endless travel, the entire Corps had finally returned to headquarters. The familiar corridors and quiet moments usually brought relief—but tonight, something was off. You were seated quietly on a low bench near the entryway, your eyes cast downward. A dark, swollen bruise marred one side of your face, your lip was slightly bloody, and a single tear glistened as if it held all the unspoken worries of the night. The Hashiras—and Tengen’s wives—gathered around you, each reacting in their own distinctive way.

Giyu Tomioka’s Perspective:

Giyu’s usually calm, inscrutable expression shifted the moment he noticed your injury. He approached slowly, every measured step heavy with concern. “Y/N,” he said in his low, steady tone, “please, let me help.” Internally, Giyu felt a quiet surge of protectiveness. Though he rarely voiced his emotions, his mind raced with worry over why you’d hide your pain. He suspected you might be trying to shield someone from the fallout—a thought that made his heart ache in silent understanding.

Shinobu Kocho’s Perspective:

Ever the perceptive one, Shinobu’s gentle eyes took in every detail—the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the slight tremor in your hands, the bruise that told a story of sudden violence. “My dear,” she murmured softly as she knelt beside you, offering a delicate handkerchief. Her mind whirled with concern and curiosity. “There’s more to this than meets the eye,” she thought, recalling the hint of a struggle in your hesitant glance. Determined to soothe your pain without prying too much, she resolved to help you tend to your wounds—both physical and emotional.

Kyojuro Rengoku’s Perspective:

Kyojuro’s fiery spirit softened at the sight of you in distress. He practically bounded over, his usual exuberance tempered by genuine worry. “Y/N! I cannot bear to see you hurt!” he declared, voice brimming with passion. In his heart, the flame of protectiveness burned fiercely. He knew that you would never risk your well-being lightly—and if it meant defending another soul, you would do so without hesitation. Yet, the idea that you felt compelled to hide your truth stirred a mix of admiration and concern within him. “I will ensure you’re safe,” he vowed silently, his spirit ignited by the need to shield you from further harm.

Tengen Uzui’s Perspective:

With his flamboyant flair, Tengen strode into the room, his gaze instantly locking onto your injured face. “Oh my—what misadventure has befallen you?” he exclaimed, though his tone was laced with unmistakable care. In the glimmer of the overhead lanterns, he noted every detail—the bruise, the tear, the stubborn way you avoided his eyes. Tengen’s mind raced with protective instincts and a tinge of possessiveness that he rarely admitted aloud. “No one shall harm you again, not while I’m here,” he promised, his dramatic tone softening as he regarded you with a mixture of pride and worry.

Mitsuri Kanroji’s Perspective:

Mitsuri’s heart immediately went out to you. The sight of your pain—a token of your selflessness—filled her with both love and anxiety. She rushed forward, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to gently brush away a stray tear. “Sweetheart, why won’t you let us take care of you?” she asked in a tender whisper, her voice warm and nurturing. Internally, Mitsuri’s mind was a storm of emotions: admiration for your bravery, sorrow at your silence, and a fierce desire to mend not just your wounds but your heart. She promised herself that she would hold you close until you felt safe enough to share your burden.

Muichiro Tokito’s Perspective:

Typically reserved and often aloof, Muichiro’s eyes nonetheless flickered with concern when he saw your condition. He paused at a distance before stepping forward in his characteristically understated manner. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “I noticed something was amiss.” Although his words were few, his thoughts were anything but indifferent. Muichiro analyzed every small detail—each bruise and hesitation—wondering why you had chosen silence over confession. In his reflective mind, he resolved that once your wounds were tended to, you might find the strength to trust him with your truth.

Obanai Iguro’s Perspective:

Obanai’s sharp gaze hardened momentarily as he took in the sight of your injuries. There was a flicker of irritation mixed with concern; he could not fathom why you would hide something so important. “You mustn’t keep this to yourself,” he said, his tone clipped but earnest. Underneath his stern exterior, Obanai’s heart pounded with the fierce desire to protect you from any further harm. He suspected that your silence was meant to spare someone else—and though that choice might have been noble, he feared it would only invite greater danger. He vowed internally that he would not let anyone, bully or otherwise, threaten your well-being.

Sanemi Shinazugawa’s Perspective:

Sanemi’s rough demeanor cracked as he took in the evidence of your struggle. His first instinct was anger—anger that you had been hurt and anger that you’d chosen to hide it. “Damn it, Y/N,” he grumbled, stepping closer with a protective scowl, “you shouldn’t have done that.” Beneath his abrasive words lay a genuine care that few ever witnessed. He bristled at the thought of a bully taking advantage of your quiet sacrifice, and though his approach was blunt, his intent was clear: you were too precious to be left in harm’s way. His internal promise was simple—he would ensure no one ever dared to hurt you again.

Gyomei Himejima’s Perspective:

Gyomei’s deep, resonant voice was filled with sorrow as he approached. “Child, your pain weighs on my soul,” he intoned softly, his enormous presence radiating a calm reassurance. His eyes, wise and empathetic, took in every mark of your suffering with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. Gyomei believed that every wound told a story—and tonight, your silent narrative spoke of a courage that demanded both healing and understanding. He knelt beside you with gentle care, promising silently that your spirit would be nurtured as diligently as your body was mended.

Makio (Tengen’s Wife) – Her Perspective:

Makio was the first of Tengen’s wives to step forward, pragmatic yet fiercely tender in her concern. “Y/N, you know you can’t hide from us,” she chided softly, her eyes both warm and inquisitive. In her mind, the marks on your face were not just signs of a physical scuffle but evidence of your brave heart. She admired your instinct to protect a friend, yet worried about the toll it was taking on you. “Let me help patch you up,” she offered, determined to ease your pain before you could even consider keeping secrets that might only lead to more hurt.

Suma (Tengen’s Wife) – Her Perspective:

Suma approached with a quiet, calming presence. “I understand that you wanted to protect someone,” she said gently, placing a soothing hand on your arm. Her calm exterior belied a mind that raced with both empathy and concern. Suma knew that behind your silent defiance lay the weight of responsibility and unspoken fear—the fear that revealing the truth might unleash a tempest of emotions in those who loved you fiercely. “Please, trust us enough to let us care for you,” she murmured, her voice as soft as a lullaby, promising that no harm would come from honesty among those who cherished you.

Hinatsuru (Tengen’s Wife) – Her Perspective:

Hinatsuru’s eyes shone with maternal warmth as she gently took your hand. “Your sacrifice is not lost on us,” she said, her tone imbued with a tender urgency. In her heart, she understood the delicate balance between protecting others and protecting oneself. Hinatsuru worried that your reticence might lead you down a dangerous path of silent suffering. “Sometimes, being cared for is the strongest defense,” she whispered, as she carefully inspected your injuries. Her thoughts danced between admiration for your valor and a desperate need to shield you from the internal torment of keeping secrets.

Epilogue (Y/N’s Moment):

Surrounded by those who cherished you, each with their own hopes, fears, and promises to keep you safe, you felt the weight of isolation begin to lift. Though the truth of that day’s events still trembled on the edge of your tongue, the unwavering love in every gaze urged you toward trust. In that shared moment—where fierce protectiveness met gentle understanding—you realized that no secret was too heavy when borne by hearts united in care.

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muddyorbsblr · 2 months ago

Text

relinquish the crown: under one condition pt1

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 14; immediately after 'what could be done'

Summary: With Prince Damien's proposal looming over like a dark omen, Loki rushes to do what must be done to save you from a life of misery in Alfheim

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Odin

Things to be aware of: stressed Loki hours; this is basically 'terms of surrender' (Prologue, Part 1) in Loki's POV

There were too many emotions, too many thoughts, coursing through Loki's entire system right at this moment.

Anger. Over how seemingly excited Odin sounded over the idea of finally getting to enact the bloody tradition that he'd agreed to, so that his own father, the former Allfather Bor, would approve of his marriage to Frigga. To determine his 'rightful' heir meant to have all eligible individuals engage in a battle. Where it could only end with death or surrender.

A somber acceptance, that if he were not here right at this moment, making known the decision that would change the very course of not just his life, but yours as well? Had he not just announced that he wished to relinquish his claim to the throne? If he were to engage in the barbaric tradition, then he would have to come to terms with the knowledge that that duel with his brother would be the day he met his demise. And he would leave you behind, vulnerable to any lecherous suitor that might win Odin's favor and approval for your hand.

Fear of what could and would happen had that duel come to fruition.

But overpowering them all by a wide margin…fear of what was to come next. Out of this conversation. Out of his surrender and his terms for it.

The god would leave this room with everyone in his life, including you, thinking differently of him than when he entered. They would all know, you would know, of the affection that he'd been harboring for you for well over a decade, ever since that first encounter within the palace halls where you put your dagger to his throat.

Norns, she might very well do it again after today, he thought to himself. And you would very well be in your right to after your mind completes a lecherous image and all your memories with Loki would be painted with a starkly different brush. He was quite certain that earlier today, in the library, had been the last time he would ever hear you utter the words "I love you" towards him. Now that you knew the true weight of the sentiment when it came from him.

And still he knew, with every fiber of his being, that the only right thing for him to do was to stay this course. Even if it meant shattering what relationship he had with you in the process, even if it meant you resenting him for making you his wife. For it meant that at least you would be able to resent him in the safety of your home. It meant you would be free to live your life the way you saw fit.

He could be content with this reality. And he would simply love you enough for the both of you.

"My son, I beg your pardon?" Odin spoke, visibly perturbed at the words he'd just heard the god of mischief utter, brows knitting together and the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more prominent with the action.

"There will be no need for a ceremony to determine your heir, Father," Loki repeated, speaking slower than he did when he entered the war room. He had no intentions to be misunderstood from speaking in a rush. Not in a moment as crucial as this. "Because I choose to surrender my claim to the throne. I relinquish my status as an eligible heir."

"Brother, are you certain of your decision?"

He looked at Thor from across the table, a mixture of concern and relief coloring the blond god's expression. For as long as they had known each other, Thor had always known him to be calculating and careful even when his actions seemed far from it. Even when others believed him to be impulsive. And this particular move, to an untrained eye, would seem like the rash thing to do in such a situation. To commit an irreversible action in the name of avoiding the showdown that would yield even more permanent and irreversible consequences.

And much as Loki would often jokingly refer to his brother as an 'oaf', he had his moments. This seemed well on its way to becoming one of them, with the just slightly elder god undoubtedly coming to the realization that no…Loki did not impulsively come to this decision just moments ago. He knew exactly what he was giving up and he was determined to stay this course regardless. His question of whether he was certain was simply to avoid misconstruction from any parties.

Loki simply nodded at his brother slowly, already dreading the next few moments as he would begin to be questioned of his motivations.

The Allfather spoke next. "Loki, this is not a decision to be made lightly. You cannot rescind your offer once I have accepted it. Do you understand, my son?"

He tried to picture another way to somehow liberate you from your inevitable betrothal to the wretched elven prince of Alfheim. One that didn't involve him potentially shattering your perception of him irreparably. Short of helping you outright flee the realm to escape Damien, there truly was nothing. And even if somehow you succeeded in fleeing, there was the risk of you being charged with treason for betraying or neglecting your duties to the Realm.

His mother was right. This was the only way.

"I understand perfectly, Father," he answered, taking every ounce of his strength to not allow his tone to waver or tremble as he spoke. "I will hereby relinquish my claim to the throne of Asgard." The raven-haired god clenched his fist under the table, his nail digging in to the skin of his palm as he took a deep breath before uttering the words that would seal his fate. The ones that would turn him into the lech that he'd been rumored to be for eons. "If my terms are accepted."

The next words that Thor spoke worsened at the constricting of his heart. Made even harsher with his relieved and jovial tone. "I will agree to whatever terms you state, Brother, if it means I do not have to face losing you in battle," he stated, so quickly it was as if the words were racing to come out of his mouth. "Name your terms.

You will regret your words in a few short moments, Brother. I swear it. I can only hope you can try to see from where my intentions truly lay, Loki thought to himself. It didn't take long for him to launch into the speech he prepared to present his case, bracing himself for the incoming derision. The seething judgment. The hatred.

"I wish to return our family's reign to its former glory. I've traversed the Nine Realms and the consensus is definite: They think our power weak ever since Father rose to the throne. At least those generations that had been around to witness its former glory for themselves. The people not only feared us, but they respected us." He turned to face Odin, a mixture of concern and displeasure evident in the elder god's eye. "Now they question your leadership since you were so willing to break an age old practice. They question my claim as legitimate due to my Jotun blood. I wish to dispel any qualms about future generations."

"Loki," his father spoke, caution rife in his voice. As if he were warning him to choose his next words very carefully. "What are you implying?"

Is it not obvious, Father? All these centuries of believing me capable of such mischief and depravity and you choose this moment to feign ignorance? To strive to see me as anything more than the title you thrust upon me? he thought to himself sardonically. Very well then, if you must insist on keeping to this facade, then you've left me with no other choice than to lean in. Become the depraved lech you allowed the Realms to believe that I am.

"Surely you do not mean to say that--"

"Y/N," he cut his father off, digging his nail further into the palm of his hand as he darted a glance at his brother and saw the utter heartbreak and betrayal in his expression. Keep going, the rational, calculating voice in his head urged him. They may all despise you at the end of this, but remember what you are doing this for. Remember who you are doing this for. For her. For your fated. Keep her safe. No matter the cost. "Wed her to me, so that we may restore our family's reign's integrity and show the people that we know when to break, and when to keep, tradition. That we have the wisdom to do so."

"Brother there was a reason for that tradition to be abolished. So that Father and future generations may choose who to wed out of love." Thor's response tore at him further, forcing the god to fight back tears as he held on tight to the secret that he'd held for years. Wanting nothing more than to hold back the very words he swore to himself he would never utter aloud in the presence of anyone.

"Isn't that exactly what I'm doing?" He couldn't look at anyone in the eye. So he chose to instead look past them, focusing on the wall to keep his expression as invariable as he could manage. "I am choosing who to wed…out of love?" He took another breath, now looking his brother straight in the eye and feeling his heart sink at the blazing rage he saw in the now icy blue orbs, his fists laid on the table as his entire body shook from processing the words. "You said to name my terms. That no price is too steep," Loki kept on, holding on to hope that somehow this plan of his and his mother's would succeed and at the very least burning this bridge would not have been for nothing.

If this is the price for your safety, little Princess, then it is a price I will readily pay.

"I will relinquish my claim to ascend Father's throne after he passes, in exchange for Y/N as my wife," he finished, praying to the Norns that he would hear anything other than a resounding 'no' from either god.

"So that you may ascend the throne with her and become King when I die?" Thor fumed, visibly looking as if it took all his strength not to lunge across the table and strangle his brother with his bare hands.

You both would wish it could be this simple, wouldn't you? Loki mulled over silently. Somberly. If only it were.

"I will not be King," he declared, more than ready to put his words into writing if need be. "I will be her consort. She will rule when you pass, unchallenged and with my unconditional support. As her husband."

Thor took a moment to carefully look at his brother's features and right then there was a glimmer of an epiphany in his rageful eyes. Finally you see it, Brother. I would not have jeopardized my life and my relationship with all of you so flippantly. This is not for power or cowardice or lust. This is just as I have said in its purest form. This is relinquishment. This is surrender. This is sacrifice.

"I did not want to lose you in battle, Brother. And I still do not wish to." Loki could finally breathe a touch easier knowing that, at least for now, his brother still wished to see him live. "But Y/N will not understand any of this. That this was once our ancestry's tradition."

He felt a soft smile gracing his face, his mind wandering to fonder memories with you as he said his next words. "She's more brilliant than you give her credit for, dear Brother." It truly took him by surprise that he'd been allowed to present his case for this long, and he cautiously took that as a sign that perhaps this plan truly could work. That his claim to the throne was enough to trade for your hand. In the name of your safety. One last push. Just to finish your case, he told himself. "She's quite intelligent. I can guarantee you that our children will be a beautiful mix of your strength, Sif's ferocity, and our combined wits and wisdom. You've said it many times before: No man will ever be good enough for her, and you've also said that I am the best man you know in all the Nine Realms, I--" His breath caught as he uttered his next confession. "I am not good enough for Y/N, on that we can both agree. But wouldn't you also agree that among all the men in the Realms, I'll come closest?"

The next few moments had Loki's heart thundering in his chest. First Odin gave Thor a single nod, as if telling him that ultimately this decision was to now fall in the thunder god's hands. He would defer the decision to your father. And then he saw the thoughts beginning to form in his brother's mind.

How he knew in his heart that your current suitor would have no qualms or concern about your happiness, and would most likely tear you away from the Realm to isolate you from those that loved you most. How Prince Damien would swear no form of fealty or fidelity to you and how this courtship was simply a play for the power that many coveted across the Realms.

And how despite the way it churned his stomach, the thought of being the one to sign away your privilege to marry for love, at least he would do it knowing that it would be to betroth you to someone that had historically cared for you when you yourself would forget to. Someone that came close to bridling your recklessness when he chose not to match it. Someone that did his best to cater to your needs.

Someone that would move the Realms themselves if that was what she asked of me, he swore to himself.

Finally he heard it. His brother's sigh as he weighed the options and made the decision that would set into motion the shattering of your relationship with not just him, but with quite possibly every person in this room.

"Fetch Lady Y/N," he told the guard. "Fetch my daughter."

A/N: Well I can't believe it…we're finally here. I finally got this series to get back to where it started…at Loki's surrender. I decided to split this into two parts since the chapter as a whole was nearly 6k words long, so the other half of 'under one condition' will be coming this weekend 🎉🎉

On the writing block at the moment is a chapter from 'one look and they'll know', so there's also that to look forward to, and then after that (hopefully) I'm finally starting 'back to you' after idek how long I've been teasing that one.

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie

@superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #relinquish the crown #muddyorbs writes

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dunmeshi-darlings · 11 months ago

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Hi! May I please request some angst?

Marcille,Falin, and Laios (separate) with an isekai'd terminally ill s/o who needs to go back to their world in order to get treatment, since their disease is incredibly advanced, by their standards, and not easy for magic to handle.

However, the three want to save their s/o, but at the same time doesn't want them to go back to their world.

Aye a somber request but one i can do. After All, The whole worlds a stage. For some it is a comedy, Others an adventure, and yet still for others it is a tragedy. But all must play there part one way or another.

When you first arrived marcille was in awe, Not only did another entire reality exist, but you had apparently somehow been teleported from there?! She had questioned you for hours about the world, about what it was like. Fascinated that it was a world of technology in a vaguely similar fashion to the dwarves machinery, yet even more advanced. How it was a world without monsters and only had regular animals. How it was a world inhabited only by People like you, Nothing but tallmen (though in reality you and the rest of the people from your world werent tallmen, they just happened to be the most similar to your people). But strangest of all it had no magic (or so you thought), The idea seemed foreign to her and she couldnt even imagine what it could possibly be like.

You two had grown closer and fallen in love and marcille viewed you as a gift from the divine...but like all divinity they are cruel and can change there whims in a split second. It started off with a small cough, neither of you were particularly worried about it, sicknesses come and go after all. But the cough over time slowly progressed and got worse and worse, it eveolved into a tightness in the chest and struggle breathing. you became unable to do most physical things as your condition worsened, Then the dry coughing grew worse when one day you coughed into your hand and when you pulled it away it was soaked in blood.

Marcille tried everything she could, she had asked falin to do everything she could, but sadly to no avail as the healer couldnt seem to slow this disease. She asked laios for help who spent a small fortune of his newly aquired kingdoms gold to try and find you the best healers in the world to no avail. Marcille was at her wits end, she couldnt see you die. She had seen so many people she loved and cared about die already, she couldnt loose you too. However one day you brought up an idea, one that broke her heart almost as much as the idea of your death did. "i think...the only ones who could help....me..are doctors from...my world.."

Marcille begged and pleaded, she didnt want to loose you that way either...but she knew deep down that there was no magic here that could help. The both of you knew that with the magic of this world, your death was certain and you needed to go back to be treated...but...but what if...what if marcille used magic not of this world.

That dark beckoning call came to her once more, its powerful embrace called out to her, it whispered gilded words that dripped a hopeful venom. It asked of her how far would she be willing to go to save the one she loved? If her true desire was to save you, she would do anything right?....right?

She had already used its power once, what harm would using it once more do? Maybe it could save you? maybe it could fix this disease and you and her could live happily ever after. Marcille had already called upon these dark ruinous powers before, it would be so simple to do it again? Who cares about the law, of morality, of the dangers this magic poses...Would marcille truly wield that eldritch power once more to save you? consequences be damned...right?

Your arrival was incredibly to falin, the idea of a whole new world of wonder, of things to see and do, a whole new world of beauty she had never seen before made her giddy. You and her would sit up for hours as you told her stories of your world, of just how different it was than her world, how the people were, how life was. And though there were many sad stories, Falin always found it comforting to know that so many good things happened in this other world to, that no matter how grim the world seemed. There would always be people being happy and living there lives and trying to make the world a better place, it made her smile. The two of you grew closer and eventually you confessed your feelings for her, however she giggled saying how she had planned on doing the same as well. The two of you getting together as you two travelled together after laios's ascension to be the new golden kingdoms king. However, Death once more made its presence known in the door of falins home, but instead of seeing her once more it decided to come calling the one person she hoped most it would never see for years.

The coughing was the first sign something was wrong, Falin was a gifted healer and so she used her magic to try and get rid of it...but it didnt work, no matter what she did that cough wouldnt go away, at most only disapearing for a day or so then coming right back. Its progression only getting worse and worse as she frantically tried to out heal the symptoms, each time she would try to heal you she would be in tears. messy tear drops falling down her cheeks as she would use her healing magic over and over and over till she herself would throw up from magic sickness.

By the time you had started coughing up blood you had to force falin to stop trying to heal you, you both knew it wasnt going to work and that she was just hurting herself and that broke your heart. the two of you laying together as you both sobbed at all of this..it wasnt fair, it wasnt right. How could something so awful happen to such an amazing and loving person....falin couldnt believe it could happen. Eventually you told her one night you had an idea. "Falin...i think the only way ill survive is if i go back to my world...and get help there."

It broke falins heart, because she knew deep down you were right...that the only hope you had was to go back to your world and get help there. Falin was quiet for awhile, her mind racing before she softly takes a hold of your hands. "Ok...if thats the case...IM GOING WITH YOU!"

She shouts confusing you, asking her if she is serious!? would she just leave this world behind? her nodding saying that your her world and wherever you go she wants to be right there with you. And besides, she cant loose you..

When you first showed up laios was excited about the possibility to learn about all new monsters in a whole new reality....however when you told him that monsters werent a thing he couldnt help but admit how your world seemed boring.

Despite that he adored you as the two of you grew closer and closer and eventually got together. You ruling the golden kingdom alongside him. The two of you ruling the kingdom together happily, Despite laios endless hunger and curse towards monsters he was happy. you help him deal with the stress of ruling the kingdom, But perhaps fate had one last curse in store for laios...or perhaps this was some aspect of the winged lions curse on him itself.

You started off with coughing, Laios noting it was likely a cold or something and asking falin or marcille to use healing magic to help..but it didnt work. You only continued to grow worse and laios grew more and more worried. He looked through his books about monsters trying to find something in them that might heal you. He had you drink multiple brothes, eat mixtures of vegetables and herbs, bath in some monster blood but nothing was helping. None of the medicinal properties of the various monster parts he would hire people to go get would work.

By the time you had started coughing up blood, laios had all but given up hope. Nothing was working, no matter what he did, no monster remedies could help, neither marcille or falins magic could help..and his own healing magic wasnt great. He would just sit by your bedside and cry into the sheets as he held you. Eventually though you spoke to him. "Laios...i think the only way ill live..is if i go back...the doctors of my world are more advanced...its the best chance i have."

It tore laios to pieces to hear this, he hated the idea of loosing you. he had almost lost his sister, and he was so afraid to loose you too. But he knew you were right, it was the best chance you had. He would join you if he could...but he couldnt, he had to rule over the golden kingdom. There was nobody else that could rule it in his place, He had to stay behind..and it ate him alive. He told you that he would always be yours, and that he would always think of you no matter what. And as long as you lived, thats all that mattered to him.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #laios #laios touden #marcille #marcille dona #marcille donato #falin #falin touden #tw blood #tw death mention #tw disease

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mi-i-zori · 1 year ago

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Breathe

CoD - Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : Nikto drinks blood like a starved beast.

WARNINGS : NSFW - 18+. Beware, this is kind of unhinged. Canon-typical violence, blood (Reader has periods - emphasis on period blood), Nikto (a warning in himself), blood/period kink (?), poetic smut, fluff.

Author’s Note : I have no idea why I keep using poetic sentences whenever I try to write smut, but hey. Guess its just how I am. A filthy romantic at heart.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Main Masterlist

Nikto licks blood off his fingers on the daily like a starved beast, savouring a taste he knows will never fully satiate his hunger.

It does not matter if the crimson nectar is his or not ; he keeps engraving its flavour deep into his mind. It leaves a warm, metallic feeling in the back of his throat - one similar to the one lining the surface of the gun that was repeatedly shoved past his teeth after its bullets were lodged in-between his ribs, the thick ropes circling his wrists harvesting his own, personal flavour directly from his veins.

Both life and death flow past his tongue, carving countless nightmares in the few hours of sleep weighing heavy on his subconscious - dragging a never ending series of shuddering breaths up his oesophagus whenever he wakes.

He can never escape them, for reality is just as bitter as his dreams. So he drowns it it blood, gunpowder and alcohol, turning away from the shredded screams coming from his reflection in the mirror.

Until that moment.

Your face is pulled into a grimace as you tell him about the way one of your stupid coworkers shamelessly blabbered about how dirty he thinks period blood is, filling your head with somber thoughts at the idea that yours is quickly approaching.

You don’t see how his eyes light up when they fall upon the date circled in red on the calendar of your phone.

And it is only when his lips meet your bleeding walls for the first time, lapping at the tears running down the inside of your thighs with a newfound reverence blossoming on his tongue, that the spectre in his head finally goes silent.

You look like divine absolution, he thinks, watching with rapt attention as moans flow from your lips like a holy river. Lust fills his mind, body and soul as he wonders if edging you further would allow him to taste the stars running through your veins. Would the world end up falling apart with you ?

The thought of the Earth shattering like glass against the echo of your climax fuels the fire burning in his stomach.

So he keeps staining his mouth red with your blood and slick. War-torn hands hold your legs still around his head as his fingers pull at your flesh, moulding it to his will - and he growls loudly against your core, the waves of a supernova bursting through your entire body as a new orgasm shakes the very foundations of your universe.

Is it the third ? The fourth ? The fifth ? You stopped counting a few seconds after his mouth first latched on the sacred flower blooming between your legs, too lost in the song of your own pleasure.

Nikto doesn’t need anything more to find his own release. He then crashes on top of you as you both fall from your high, lips sharing the last remnants of your erratic, scorching breaths.

He lays there for the rest of the night, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat - your divinity dancing on the back of his tongue.

The constellations lining your mind call out to him as he sleeps, flickering with the promise of finally carrying him away from the ruins of his heart. They light up his bones from below the thorns, and he would gladly sacrifice what is left of himself if it meant you could cradle them against your breast.

The warm softness of your skin soothes the pain still lingering in his scars, and he subconsciously cages your bare form in his arms as he drifts to the world of dreams.

He can finally breathe.

#cod nikto #call of duty nikto #mwii nikto #nikto #nikto x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #smut #cod smut #i usually struggle when writing smut #but i wrote this so quickly #idk what possessed me #i enjoy poetic filth

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janeyseymour · 1 year ago

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Panera's Box

Summary: Melissa goes through man after man, while you watch. Finally, you shoot your shot, and it open's a whole Pandora's Box (or Panera's box... according to her).

WC: ~2.65k

Since working at Abbott Elementary, you’ve had one of the biggest crushes on that ridiculously tough, yet somehow still warm and loving, second grade teacher that works across the hall from you.

By some grace of God, she’s seemed to take a liking to you too. You’ve found yourself to be a part of the Abbott crew and being invited out for various events or happy hours. You quite like it, spending time with all of them, but it’s also made the feelings that you have for Melissa Schemmenti only that much more intense. And that was before you started going over to her house for dinner every Wednesday.

You don’t say anything though. She still intimidates you to a certain degree, and she’s constantly in some sort of relationship or situationship. So your feelings for the spicy Italian teacher remain unknown to everyone in the school, and you fully intend on keeping it that way.

“Any plans tonight?” you ask her as you’re sitting together at lunch one day.

She shrugs. “I’m supposed to go out with Rob tonight, but I don’t know if I’m feeling it.”

“That’s nice,” you say quietly. “Why aren’t you feeling it though?”

Melissa sighs. “He always wants to go out and do something… sometimes after a day like today, all I want to do is curl up on the couch with a good book while my music plays and my candles burn.”

You chuckle softly. “That sounds like what I’ll be doing tonight.”

“No after school plans for you?” she asks. You shake your head. “When was the last time you were on a date?”

“Too long ago.”

“When was your last date?” the second grade teacher asks again.

You hum as if you’re thinking, but you know exactly when your last date was. It was two weeks into working at Abbott, and while the woman was very sweet, you had not gone out on a second date with her because Melissa Schemmenti was on your mind the whole time. “It’s been a while. Maybe two weeks into starting work here?”

“Girl, that was over two years ago. Maybe we should get you onto the dating sites… anyone would be lucky to get to go out with you.”

There is was… anyone would be lucky to get to go out with you- but you were never on her radar.

“I’m going to politely decline the idea of me being on dating sites,” you wave a hand in dismissal. You don’t want to meet anyone new. You know exactly who you want, and she’s so close, yet so far. You’ve held off dating since starting to work at Abbott and finding yourself catching feelings for the woman next to you, and you really can’t see yourself going out with anybody else until you either get the girl or you get over your silly schoolgirl crush.

“Oh, c’mon,” she presses on. “I think it would be fun to see you out on dates.”

“Like you, I would much rather to prefer to curl up on the couch with a good book under a mountain of blankets after a day at work,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll find the right person who is content to do that with me when the right time comes.”

Melissa blinks a few times… that’s what she wants too. But, you’re- you’re a woman, and she hasn’t been with a woman since her college days. She doesn’t want to open herself up to that again if she can help it.

The bell rings, indicating that lunch is over, and you stand with a sigh. “Have a nice rest of your day, Melissa.”

“Thanks, hun,” the redhead replies. She can’t help but notice that your tone is a bit more somber after that conversation, and she makes up her mind that she won’t push you into dating again. Maybe she overstepped a boundary that she wasn’t aware was there.

That night, the redheaded woman does end up going out with Rob, although she’s unsure why it just doesn’t feel right. She feels like she should maybe just be curled up on her couch, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, and under a few blankets… and preferably with you.

She ends the night with a short goodbye and an apology that she just doesn’t see that it’s going to go anywhere. She ends up texting you once her date is over and she’s changed into her lounge wear.

Hey. You up for coming over? I got blankets, books, and wine.

When you see the notification, you squint your eyes. I thought you were going out with Rob tonight.

I did… and then I ended it.

I’ll be over in ten. You sigh as you pull on your shoes. You were really comfortable in your recliner with your favorite novel, but if Melissa had just ended it with Rob, you are going to be there for her.

When you pull up to her townhouse, she opens the door with a smile. You can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks sans makeup and hair pulled up into a messy ponytail.

“You look awful happy for a woman who just ended a relationship,” you quip as you make your way into her place.

“Wasn’t a relationship,” the redhead retorts right back. “But I was thinking about what you were saying earlier… I should be doing what I want with someone I care about, and what I want to do is curl up and read a good book with you.”

That makes you pause. Nevertheless, you sit down on the couch next to her and pull your book from your bag. She makes her way into the kitchen and returns a few seconds later with a bottle of wine and an extra glass.

“You good with a red blend?” Melissa asks you. You just nod as you open your book. You fully intend on just sitting here and enjoying your book with a friend until she decides that she wants to talk about her split- if she truly hadn’t wanted to talk about it, you wouldn’t be here right now.

The redhead sits down next to you, close enough that your arms are brushing together, and she sips her wine. You do everything you can in order to focus on your book, but it isn’t really working. Not when Melissa’s chin rests on your shoulder as she reads your book over your shoulder.

“I thought when you invited me over, you would be reading your own book,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs. “I like your book more.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you move the book so that she can see it a bit better. Her body doesn’t move from next to you. In fact, she only gets closer and an arm is slung around your waist.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

The redhead shrugs her shoulders again, and she rests her head on your shoulder. It’s a few more minutes of reading together before you start to get in your head.

It’s been five minutes since you turned the page, and Melissa looks at you curiously. She’s read the page three times, so she knows that you should’ve been able to read it too. Your eyes are a bit glazed over and unfocused as you stay in your head, mind swirling with why she was doing this.

“Hun,” the redheaded woman jostles you slightly. You don’t react. “Y/N.”

You jolt out of your trance. “Huh?”

“We’ve been on this page for five minutes,” she notes quietly. “What’s going on through that pretty head of yours?”

“What are you doing?” you finally ask after about thirty seconds of silence.

“Reading with you?” the redhead furrows a brow. “I thought that was obvious though.”

“No,” you close your book. “Why am I here? Why aren’t you out with Rob?”

“I told you that,” she sighs. “I didn’t want to go out with him anymore. I’m not sure I want to go out with any man anymore. They just don’t provide the warmth I need right now.”

You take a deep breath and look her in the eye before you shoot your shot. “Then go out with me.”

Melissa sits up straight as her eyes widen just slightly, and her jaw drops. “What?”

“Go out with me then,” you say again. “You’re always talking about how you want someone who isn’t always looking for fancy places and things to do- that you sometimes just want someone to sit with and read a book. That you want someone who will go out and just do trivia with a glass of wine- someone that you’re comfortable with. I’m that person for you.”

“Y/N,” she sighs. “I haven’t been with a woman since college.”

“And?” you ask her. “Why should that matter? I flirt with you, you flirt with me, I’m sitting in your house doing exactly what you want to do with a partner anyway!”

“I-” the redhead looks down at her hands. “Listen, Y/N: I can’t deny that I am attracted to you, and I have been, but-”

“There shouldn’t be a but,” you state. “I like you, you just admitted that you like me.”

“But,” she continues. “I haven’t been out with a woman since I was in college… I don’t know if I want to open that Panera’s box.”

“Pandora’s box,” you roll your eyes.

She huffs. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” you sigh. “I don’t understand why you won’t just give this a chance. You’re constantly talking about wanting love and finding that person who gets you- who else gets you better than I do? I know that you do a little happy dance when something’s gone your way. I know that you have to have at least two cups of coffee before you even get to school, but if you have more than two more at school before lunch you’re a jittery mess. I know that you take your coffee with two creams and a teaspoon of sugar. I know that your bark is way bigger than your bite, and even then I know that you would kill for any of us at Abbott despite saying that the only person you would kill for is Barb. We’ve had countless dinners together and shared so many bottles of wine that I lost count because you don’t want to go out and would rather stay in. I’m willing to give you everything, but if you’re going to be foolish enough to deny it just because you don’t want to open a ‘Panera’s box’, then fine.” You grab your bag and start to stand.

“Y/N,” Melissa grabs your wrist gently. “I-”

“It’s fine,” you rip yourself away from her and head for the door. “Just let me go while I still have some of my dignity left.”

The redhead stands and rushes for the door, blocking you from leaving. “Just listen.”

You cross your arms over your chest, a hip popped out just slightly as you stare her down. “What? Didn’t you do enough?”

“Y/N,” the woman says quietly, unsurely. “Listen… I do like you, I really like you. And I want to throw caution to the wind and say yes, that we should try us. But you have to understand my hesitation. I’m a none-your-business year old woman who has already had a failed marriage, and the last relationship I was in ended in a publicly humiliating divorce. I don’t… I don’t have a great track record with relationships, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that with you. And then there’s the fact that we’re coworkers- if we were to try it and it wouldn’t work, we would still have to work together. And I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be able to do that. And then… I wasn’t kidding when I said I haven’t been with a woman since college- I don’t even know if I have what it takes anymore to be what you need. I- I know I act like I have it all together and I know exactly what I want and know how to get it, but that just isn’t true- because I want you, but I’m terrified. I don’t know if I can even open up this panera’s box at my age, and yet I want to try. I want to try for you.”

You just sigh and look away. “You don’t have to say all of this to make me feel better about the rejection.”

“I’m not,” she tells you as she takes your hand in hers. “I want this, but I am beyond scared that I’m going to mess this up… that I’ve been out of the game for too long, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did,” you mutter. “You’ve been toying with my emotions since I started working at Abbott.”

“And I didn’t mean to,” she tells you genuinely. “I thought it was all innocent, until it wasn’t and I caught feelings.”

You just shake your head as you roll your eyes.

“But I’m here now,” she says softly. “And I- I’m willing to open that Panera’s box for you- one date to show me that this is worth it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say softly as you reach for the doorknob.

She takes your hand back in hers. “I don’t have to. But I want to.” And then her lips are pressed against yours.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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sherbertilluminated · 6 months ago

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Last night I was talking with my friends @teefigotem and @calypsopond about the pacing of the musical Les Miserables. I think Les Mis' libretto is one of the best foundations for a musical out there, but the first act has so much more plot and more iconic songs than the second, and I worry that top-heavy structure diminishes the ultimate impact of the uprising in the second act.

Caly and Maddy agreed that the 2012 film adaption had the right idea when it swapped the positions of "Do you Hear the People Sing" and "One day More." Transplanting the former to the beginning of Act 2 maintains the balance of revolutionary fervor (and iconic songs) between the two acts, and a serves as a payoff to the tension at the end of Act 1. While "Upon these Stones/Building the Barricade" begins Act 2 in the current libretto, it's high on exposition and low on enthusiasm. Since "Do You Hear the People Sing" has become an international revolutionary anthem, making it the opening of the uprising, rather than the prelude to it, builds on *ahem* that connection.

Just picture it: the audience returns to their seats, the orchestra hums with tension, and the lights go up on a somber street with a single voice—Enjolras, probably—singing. Students emerge from the set, workers join in, the turntable starts turning and it becomes clear that soon a barricade will be built in the street. The subsequent Marius/Eponine conversation that transitions into "On my Own" would still probably work here. In the span of fifteen minutes, the thesis statement of the revolting students turns into the reveal of the final barricade. It'd be pretty damn rousing, right?

The potential problem with this change is the lacuna it would leave behind. In the current structure of Les Miserables, "Do you Hear the People Sing" is an elaboration on Enjolras' claim that "they will come when we call!" and going directly from that rallying cry to a quiet romantic interlude flattens the rhetorical tension between romantic love and revolution "Red and Black" and makes Mairus seem a little silly (which, to be fair, he is. But Enjolras is not.) Although "Do You Hear the People Sing" is a little too bombastic for Act 1, before the uprising actually begins, there's still got to be some kind of transition. Something needs to foreshadow the violence to come. But what?

I proposed that the best transition would be a reprise of Stars. And that Eponine should get to sing it.

Since the Broadway premiere of the musical Les Miserables in 1987 and especially following the 2012 film adaptation, Eponine's character has been a locus for fandom attention and discourse. Because she's really compelling: despite being the daughter of the selfish, abusive Thenardier, she devotes her life to protecting Marius and ultimately sacrifices it for him. But the closest she ever gets to being understood is by the audience; even Marius, one of two people in the show to be kind to her (the other being Valjean), doesn't really understand the full extent of her devotion to him. And that devotion is powerful, whether as a proxy for audience members' own experiences with unrequited love or a representation of the bourgeousie's reliance on unacknowleged suffering. There's a lot going on with her in the musical. But there's even more to her in the Brick.

Unlike my esteemed Les Mis mutuals I'm definitely not informed enough to do original analysis, but I'm a big fan of the Javert/Eponine wolfdog theory. My introduction to it was with this post by @pilferingapples, although I don't know whether it originated somewhere else. The theory posits that Javert and Eponine, who are both compared to wolfish dogs for their ferocity and devotion to their idiosyncratic systems of morality, are character foils who represent the limited choices offered to people excluded from. I definitely don't know the op who suggested they trade methods of death (if anyone does, please let me know!) but that's also in the Brick. And while the musical adaptation doesn't preserve Hugo's canine/lupine symbolism, it keeps Eponine's one-sided committment to guarding Marius. And it keeps Javert's devotion to the institution of Law.

"Stars" is the hymn of that devotion. It's more sinister than Eponine's love for Marius, but in the grand scheme of things it's just as pathetic. Giving a short reprise of that song to Eponine not only explicates that parallel and gives new life to relatively-unused musical motif, it has the potential to tie together the action of the first act and add a new dimension to subsequent scenes.

Imagine if, instead of beginning "Do You Hear the People Sing" immediately after "Red and Black" or transitioning directly to the Rue Plumet, the scene changes to the outside of the ABC cafe. On the other side of the turntable/wall, Eponine is waiting. And worrying. She knows her father's going to rob a house tonight and that the girl Marius asked her to find lives there*. She can't let her father hurt him. She's smarter than him. She'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, she swears—not to God or the stars, as Javert does, but to herself. The promise is shocking, because the audience heard that melody two songs ago and are just now discovering there is another way to be. There is another vow that can be made.

While she's singing, the ABC society files out the door. Maybe some hand out pamphlets or chat with people on the street. If the production wants to emphasize Eponine and Gavroche secret sibling bond, maybe they interact a little. But no one pays her too much mind. No one ever does.

The last person to emerge is Marius, looking a bit shaken. The timeline of the students' plans has been unexpectedly accelerated, he says. In case it's his last chance—nevermind why, 'Ponine, don't worry about me—he needs to see her once. You've found her, haven't you? Could you show me? Please? For my sake?

Consumed by shame and dread and the sense that he'll probably do something really stupid if she doesn't tag along, she agrees. And the stage begins to turn into the Rue Plumet, where "In my Life" begins. The whole interaction would take maybe two minutes.

There are of course thematic objections to this plan. There's the argument that "Stars" ought to be a unique, distinct song like "Bring Him Home." But those motifs are reused in instrumental form after Javert's and the students' respective deaths, so I don't necessarily think they're scene- or character-specific. There's also the argument that the melody of "Stars" is altogether too rigid for Eponine's character. I think there are a couple moments that would work quite well with the emotion("and if they fall as Lucifer fell," for example) but if you really don't want Javert's and Eponine's motif to cross, the melody of "A Little Fall of Rain" ("and you/I will keep me/you safe") could work for this moment too.

There's also the argument that Eponine already gets "too much" attention in the musical adaptation and doesn't need. But I don't know if that's true either. She interacts with Marius in several short scenes, she's present for "A Heart Full of Love" and "One Day More," she goes on her errand to Valjean, sings "On my Own," goes back to the barricade and dies shortly after. She gets about as much stagetime as Cosette does, and a little less than Marius.

It's true that she stands out as a character, but that's because she's got such interesting writing and is so isolated in the narrative. And while it's important to keep her "on [her] own," for the plot, using shared motifs to emphasize her symbolic similarities with other characters might make her character fit more cohesively into Les Miserables' grander thematic narrative. It could even make "On my Own" that much more powerful if she has a little hope that saving Marius from her father might get him to like her, and subsequently understands that this is not happening. But there's a lot more to her than being Marius' rejected best friend** and this choice has the potential to make that clear onstage.

In conclusion: moving "Do You Hear the People Sing" to the start of Act 2 letting Eponine do a wolfdog reprise of "Stars" between "Red and Black" and "In my Life" would be sick as fuck and maybe resolve some pacing issues in the libretto.

*There is a moment in the show where she realizes that she and Cosette grew up together. I like it in concept but it's a little awkwardly-placed and integrating it into the unnamed Red and Black/In my Life transition song would be great. Overall, her interactions with Marius seem like afterthoughts in between the larger numbers, which isn't fair to either of them.

**And for the record: this not a post pitting her against Cosette! They are both good characters and I wish the best for both of them!

#ok sherb time to list everything this theory is relevant to:#les miserables #les mis #musicals #eponine #javert #marius #red and black #stars #do you hear the people sing #in my life #on my own #rhymes with thaumaturge #sherb's sub sub library

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bg3daydream · 11 days ago

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Not like the tales (Davrin x Rook Fanfiction) Chapter 3

Davrin x female Rook Thorne

Summary: Canon divergence, Rook is already a grey warden when Davrin joins, and she's put in charge of his joining and his first weeks as a recruit and junior warden. Their relationship developes into more than just partner wardens, despite Rook's best efforts, since she knows that the life of a warden is a life of loss. Rook is a Dalish mage (I made a poll and that's the option that won).

Tags: Romance, friends to lovers, hiden feelings, slow burn, fluff, angst, hurt/emotional hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence and blood, eventual smut, canon divergence, eventual happy ending.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4/ Masterlist of my fics / AO3

I feel like there's only 3 people reading this but here, a new chapter: Davrin's joining.

“Davrin wants to join.”

Rook announced as she walked into Ser Arthur’s office, feeling somber and defeated.

“Yes, that much was obvious.” Ser Arthur nodded. “What took you so long?”

Rook shrugged. “I showed him the outpost, then introduced him to Ser Blasco, he saw him fight and thinks he’s good, I agree,” Rook recited, trying to remain emotionless, while Ser Arthur nodded, pleased. “Then I left him to eat something.”

Ser Arthur lifted an eyebrow at that. “Not sure that was your smartest idea…let’s see if he keeps it in during the joining.”

“Or perhaps he’ll die during it and at least he’ll have had a last meal.” Of tasteless, bland porridge.

“Rook…” Ser Arthur sighed.

After Darvin snapped, Rook had told herself she should remain emotionless, and stop meddling in Davrin’s joining and his decision, but she couldn’t. She never could.

“Ser…this is wrong, keeping the joining secret from people, they don’t know what can happen to them! We’re feeding them blighted darkspawn blood! If they don’t die in the joining we’re condemning them to eventual madness and death. It’s wrong.”

“Rook.” Ser Arthur’s eyes were kind. “Everyone knows warden’s lives are dangerous and lead to death. Davrin knows it, and he wants to join.”

“But he’s so young, and he doesn’t know what a warden's life is like, not really,” she insisted. “He doesn’t know what can happen to him in the joining, and even if he doesn’t die, we’re tainting him, it’ll drive him mad, it’ll kill him before he’s even fifty…”

“Just like it’ll happen to yourself,” Ser Arthur said calmly, as if it were nothing, as if it had never kept her awake at night. “And to everyone in this place, to every warden who’s not killed by darkspawn, such is the life and the sacrifice of a grey warden.”

“And it doesn’t seem wrong to you that we do this to people blindly, among other things.”

Ser Arthur looked at her, his expression unreadable, for a moment before he spoke again, his voice firm now, back to his veteran warden role. “Our chalice is not the official, but it’ll do. We have some blood stored but after this time is…questionable. It could do, though.”

“No.” It was bad enough that Davrin had to drink it, at least it should be fresh. “He’ll get his own, I’ll find him some darkspawn.”

“Alright. Best get going then, the sun will set soon.”

Rook found Davrin outside, sitting on the ground against the wall of the training grounds, which were empty now. He’d gotten a knife and a piece of wood that he seemed to be carving, and he got up when he heard Rook approaching.

“Recruit,” Rook greeted, trying to sound formal like Ser Arthur, trying to separate her thoughts and emotions from her duty, even though she was never quite good at that.

She looked at the carving in his hands, which seemed to be some kind of animal.

“It’s a halla…or it’ll be when it’s finished,” Davrin explained. “It’s, uh…it’s for you.”

“For me?”

Davrin nodded, for once he didn’t seem cocky or confident, but bashful. “An apology,” he explained. “I shouldn’t have said something like that to you, before.”

Rook looked down, fidgety. “There’s no need. You didn’t say anything untrue.”

“It was still wrong to tell you that,” Davrin insisted, his voice genuine. “So I want to give you this… if it’s okay.”

“Thank you, Davrin, really.” His gesture made her feel shy, at the same time that warmth seemed to spread across her chest. Her lips curled up into a smile that she couldn't stop.

When was the last time someone had gifted her something? Something handmade no less…

“I’ll finish it after the joining,” Davrin said and Rook’s smile faltered…would he finish it? Or would he be dead? “Did you talk to Ser Arthur? Do I join now?”

Rook nodded, trying to ignore her feelings. “Yes. Get your weapons, we’re going to find darkspawn, we need their blood for the ritual.” Rook wondered if she was saying too much, but she didn’t care, and she hadn’t vowed to keep that detail secret.

For all his excitement about his joining, Davrin seemed wary at her words. “Their blood?”

“Yes.” Rook nodded. “But I can’t tell you more about the ritual, I’m sorry, I would if I could but I’m sworn to keep it a secret.” And she hated it.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Davrin assured her. It didn't make her feel better, if anything, she felt worse.

“Okay…then get your gear and let’s go,” Rook tried to sound firm, confident. She tried to harden her heart.

She didn’t feel like she was succeeding.

They got ready quickly and left the outpost, making their way through the woods. Soon enough, they’d reached the old entry to the deep roads. Rook couldn’t feel darkspawn, but still, she hoped that if she made enough fuss, some of them would come out.

“See that?” She pointed at the small sinking hole and Davrin nodded. “It is a deep roads entry. These are the kind of places from which darkspawn come out, as wardens we have to spot them and close them, I’ve sent word to Weisshaupt already,” she explained.

“Alright.” Davrin nodded, frowning at the entrance and studying it, though he didn’t get close, as if waiting for her command.

“This one is almost closed and abandoned but I’ll try to attract some darkspawn out of it,” she said as she got close to the sinking. “Be ready.”

Rook summoned her magic, striking the ground around the entrance with lightning, doing her best to aim so some of it would get inside, and soon the ground and air around it were crackling with her lighting magic.

Soon enough, she began to feel a faint tingle inside her skin, as unpleasant as ever. It wasn’t strong enough for discomfort, though. There might not be many darkspawn coming out, but it’d be enough.

“They’re coming,” she announced, stepping back to stand next to Davrin.

As always there, the few darkspawn that crawled out of the hole were nothing out of the ordinary, and she didn’t think Davrin would have trouble with them. “Attack,” she ordered.

Davrin didn’t wait to be told twice, charging against the darkspawn. Rook didn’t rush to attack, instead, she watched Davrin fight, but she made sure that no darkspawn could catch him unaware and that they wouldn’t swarm him.

She didn’t think Davrin had fought darkspawn before, but he wasn’t bad at it. He was a quick thinker and adapted fast, cutting through darkspawn and seemingly noting his patterns and way of fighting. He was smart and a good fighter, and Rook hoped it’d keep him alive during his life as a warden.

She gave instructions and warnings here and there, putting down the darkspawn that threatened to get too close to Davrin, and if he noticed that she was watching him more than she was fighting, he didn’t say anything about it.

Soon, all the darkspawn were dead.

Rook took a jar from her bag and handed it to Davrin. “Collect the blood,” she instructed.

Davrin frowned at the jar, as if wary, but he nodded and carefully did as told, his face stoic. Once the jar was full, he gave it back to Rook. “Ready.”

Rook nodded, feeling more and more defeated and somber at the thought of what came next, certain that Davrin wasn't going to back down and change his mind.

“Let’s go back.”

Rook knew it was useless, hopeless, but as she and Davrin stood outside the door of the room where she knew Ser Arthur was waiting for them, she couldn’t help but stop before walking in.

She had to try again, one last time. She stood between Davrin and the door, and looked at him.

“Davrin…please, listen. I know you’re struggling now but you’re a good monster hunter, you’ll make a life out of it, you’ll be renowned,” she began, and Davrin seemed surprised, but he stood silent, letting her speak, his face solemn as he listened to her.

“Collecting that darkspawn blighted blood wasn’t the worst part of the joining, not by far. Life as a warden is blood, blight, darkness and death. Once you walk in there, there’s no going back, you can’t change your mind, you must join no matter what. But you can still leave. Just…please, think about it again.”

Davrin did seem to think it, and for once, he seemed unsure and torn, even for the briefest of moments, which allowed Rook to have a tiny sliver of hope, but soon it was gone as he shook his head.

“Thank you, Rook.” He gave her a small, tense smile. “But I’m doing this. I want to join.”

Rook didn’t say anything else, feeling so defeated that she could cry. She nodded and walked with Davrin silently into the room.

Ser Arthur was waiting for them, chalice in hands. He looked at Rook and she took out the jar with darkspawn blood, that he poured into the chalice. He handed the empty jar back to Rook and then walked to stand in front of Davrin.

It was clear that Davrin was nervous, but he stood firm in front of the veteran warden, holding his gaze.

“The grey wardens were founded during the first blight,” Ser Arthur began the speech Rook had heard in another couple of joinings. “In the fight against annihilation, those first grey wardens drank darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint.” Ser Arthur paused for a moment, letting Davrin, who was looking at the chalice, process his words. “You must drink too, Davrin.”

“You want me to drink that? Blighted darkspawn blood?”

“Yes, as we all did before. ” Ser Arthur nodded. “This blood is the source of our power, it makes us immune to the taint, allows us to sense darkspawn, to slay archdemons. This ritual can kill us, but it's what gives us our power and our strength.” Davrin looked down, swallowing hard as he took in Ser Arthur’s words. “You must drink now,” the warden said, soft but firm, as he handed the chalice to Davrin.

Davrin looked at the chalice and the blood in it. He seemed nervous, so different from how confident he’d appeared early that day.

After a quick glance at her direction, almost as if looking for support, which Rook wasn’t very sure she could offer, Davrin took a deep breath and brought the chalice to his lips, quick and decisive, grimacing as he drank.

As the first waves of pain hit Davrin, Ser Arthur took the chalice from his hands and stepped back. Davrin groaned, turning around to give Rook a look of confusion and fear that felt like a stab to her heart, before he cried out and fell to his knees.

Rook couldn’t help herself, running to his side and kneeling next to him as he cried out in pain again, but she didn’t know what to do. She doubted there was anything else she could do now.

She hated this. Davrin was in pain and he was scared, looking at her with watery eyes, almost as if he was trusting her to help him, but she couldn’t, and it killed her. She should have shot lightning at him until she made him run away. Now he was in agony and he might die.

Between grunts and cries of pain, soon Davrin passed out, which was a small mercy, but he was still groaning and writhing in pain.

“Do something!” Rook demanded Ser Arthur, no matter if she knew there was nothing to be done.

“It’ll be over soon enough,” Ser Arthur said calmly. “He’ll live, Rook. He’d have died already otherwise.”

Rook guessed she’d have to believe him. She’d always liked Ser Arthur, but now she couldn’t help resenting him. How could he be so calm while Davrin lay there agonizing in pain.

Rook reached to wipe the sweat from Davrin’s forehead, pushing away his wet curls, hoping that Ser Arthur was right and this’d be over soon, with Davrin alive. Eventually, he stopped writhing, but he was still groaning and muttering, Rook wasn’t sure if in pain or due to the nightmares he sure was having, or both.

Rook was about to call out for Ser Arthur again, when Davrin woke up with a start. He sat up, looking around with confused and still scared eyes, gasping for air and coughing.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she told him softly, relieved.

Unsure of what to do, she reached out to him and as she did, Davrin took her hand, holding onto it as if for dear life. He was still panting, and pain seemed to still hit him from time to time, making him groan and curl onto himself, but he wasn’t saying anything.

“You are now a grey warden,” Ser Arthur formally announced. “Take time to recover and come to see me when you’re ready, we must talk,” he instructed him and Davrin nodded, or tried to. His eyes were unfocused and he seemed a bit out of himself. “Congratulations.”

Ser Arthur looked at Rook as if he were going to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, he just gave her a nod and walked away, leaving them alone.

Once the veteran warden was gone, Davrin curled up onto himself with his legs bent close to his chest while he kept holding her hand, and he rested his head on his knees as he groaned in pain again.

“You'll be okay,” Rook said quietly, trying to soothe him and hating that she couldn’t do anything else. “You made it.”

“I think I’m going to throw up all that blood,” Davrin muttered.

“It’s okay, it’s done its job already, you can throw up if you need to,” Rook told him, but Davrin shook his head as he kept taking deep breaths.

Eventually, he lifted his head to look at Rook. His face was clammy and covered in sweat, but his breath was even and his eyes were focused, as if he were recovering.

“Better?” She asked him softly and Davrin nodded. “Then let’s get out of here, okay? I’ll get you some water and show you to the bedrooms so you can rest.”

Davrin nodded again, took a deep breath, and got up on shaky legs, groaning.

“Okay?” Rook asked, worried. Davrin took in another breath, squared his shoulders, and planted his feet more firmly on the ground, nodding again.

“Alright…” She let go of his hand to go pour some water from a jar, that Ser Arthur had thoughtfully left there, into an empty cup that she handed to Davrin. “Don’t worry, no more odd drinks, just plain water.”

Davrin took a sip and gagged, but he managed not to get sick, and he kept drinking until he finished the water. “Thank you.”

Rook said nothing and nodded at him to follow her out of the room. “You’ll be sharing a bedroom with Marcus and Alan,” she explained as they walked to the chambers.

The outpost was so empty that most wardens had been allowed to get a bed in empty rooms, a luxury Rook wasn’t used to, but it was decided that the junior wardens should share a bedroom so they could bond and not get too pampered, since they’d be sharing in Weisshaupt and pretty much any other outpost where they were sent.

Davrin walked in silence next to her, and Rook noticed him shuddering from time to time as if the pain were not totally gone, but she decided not to say anything about it.

“Here,” Rook said as she pointed at a closed door, “is where you can wash, we collect water every morning from the river and melting snow, for drinking and washing,” she explained.

The water was cold and the place was colder, especially for the new junior wardens who came from noble families and were used to hot baths, but Rook guessed Davrin wouldn’t be one to complain much and he was probably used to cold water.

“I’m disgusting right now,” Davrin snorted weakly but Rook waved him off. He’d just gone through the joining, he should not have to freeze in cold water first thing after that.

“Don’t worry about that now,” she said as she kept walking to the bedrooms area. “Here we are,” she said, walking into a small room with four single beds pushed against the walls.

Alan and Marcus’ beds were hastily made and covered with several blankets. There were a couple of chests on the ground at the feet of the beds for them to leave their things too.

The other two beds were bare but someone had placed a set of sheets and blankets on one of the mattresses, as if for Davrin, and also an open chest by the feet of the bed. Inside it, there was a warden uniform, the one they used on their downtime around the outpost, and Davrin’s weapons were there too.

“It seems you got a bed assigned already,” Rook commented and Davrin let out an appreciative yet tired murmur.

He flopped down on the bare mattress with a quiet groan, leaning against the wall and tilting his head back, closing his eyes as he sighed.

“That bad, uh?” Rook half-teased.

Davrin chuckled, opening his eyes to look at her. “Could be worse.” He shrugged. “But…yeah, I feel like shit.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done but wait it out,” Rook sighed, giving Davrin an apologetic look. “I’m sorry…the joining…I couldn’t tell you, I wanted to, but we’re sworn secrecy, I’m sorry.”

“Rook, hey.” Davrin stopped her apology. “I know. It’s okay.”

Rook sighed, shaking her head…it didn’t feel like it was okay. “If you need something or if you have questions…”

“Too many but I don’t even know where to start.” Davrin chuckled and then grimaced as if it made him hurt again. “Are all joinings like this? Yours?”

“I haven’t seen many joinings but yes, it’s always like this, I think,” Rook answered, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “Mine…I don’t know. I doubt there was any ceremony, I was dying and probably blighted, it was when my clan was killed, so they did the ritual joining to save me.”

“Shit…”

“I was too far gone to feel the pain so…” Rook said, looking away when Davrin gave her a sad look, she didn’t like how it made her feel.

“I had these weird dreams while I was unconscious…” Davrin began, and Rook was glad he was not asking about her and her joining anymore. “About darkspawn I think…it was because of the joining, right?”

“Yeah…” Rook nodded, grimacing. “Welcome to your new life, you can sense darkspawn, they can sense you, and you’ll be having nightmares and seeing them when you sleep pretty much every night. Didn’t I tell you it’d get even better after the joining?” She joked humorlessly.

“Great,” Davrin snorted.

“It hasn’t happened to me, but apparently, grey wardens can hear the archdemon talking and that’s how we know there’s going to be a blight,” Rook kept explaining.

“Well, that’s useful…” Davrin mused. “Why can we do that? Just because we drank their blood?”

“Honestly? No idea.” Rook shrugged. “I assume that, yes, it’s because the blood, I think we’re tainted and connected to the archdemon somehow, I guess that’s why we are the only ones who can kill archdemons.”

“Useful too.” Davrin nodded.

“Yes, and the warden who kills the archdemon dies,” Rook just blurted it out, there was no need or way to sugarcoat it.

“What, how?” Davrin frowned at her. “Why?”

“We don’t know, we only know that it happens.” Rook shrugged. “The archdemon dies but so does the warden who killed it.”

Davrin seemed to think for a moment but then he nodded. “It’s worthy, though, dying, if it means you killed the archdemon and stopped the blight,” he said firmly. “Come on, don’t say it’s not worthy.”

“I…” Rook sighed. “I guess it’s worth it, ending the blight and killing the archdemon…Don’t be so eager to die, though, it’s the job of a veteran, usually.”

“I’m not eager to die, I’m just saying it’d be worthy to stop a blight.” Davrin shrugged.

“Yeah, well…do you want to know more fun things about the warden’s life?” Rook asked. It might be too soon to give him the full, grim talk, while he was still shuddering from the aftershocks of the joining, but he had to know.

Davrin nodded. “I want to know it all.”

“Well, as I told you, we’re tainted somehow and connected to the darkspawn,” Rook began, fidgeting. “So, if we don’t die in service, eventually, we start having more and more nightmares, it’s like the taint ends up driving us mad, we hear more voices…it’s called The Calling.” She tried not to think much about that yet she thought about it every night. “We have a life expectancy of thirty years or so, then the taint gets to us."

“Shit…” Davrin muttered a curse, looking down in thought, and Rook wondered if he might finally regret joining, but then he shook his head and shrugged. “It’ll be a life worth living, though, spent fighting the darkspawn and helping people. Don’t tell me you don’t think so.”

Rook rolled her eyes. “I can think that it is worth to help people and kill darkspawn while at the same time thinking that is bullshit we have to die like that, just like I think that keeping the joining and everything it involves a secret, is bullshit,” she snapped.

Davrin gave her half a smile. “I’m not disagreeing with you. You’re right. I’m just saying that helping people and fighting darkspawn will be a life worth living even if short…besides, I rather keep telling you that, than start shitting myself because apparently, I’m going to hear darkspawn and archdemons in my dreams, and if I haven’t died in thirty years then I’m going insane.”

Davrin sounded confident but his smile faltered for a second, while the look in his eyes said that he was not as unbothered by all Rook was saying as he appeared to be.

“I’m sorry, Davrin…” Rook sighed. She’d let him join and condemned him to that life and that death, but what else could have she done.

“Hey.” Davrin nudged her leg with his foot gently. “You tried to warn me, you really did. This is not on you,” he told her. “Besides, I don’t regret it, I’m not sorry. I do think that this is a life worth living.”

Before Rook could say what she thought about that, although she wasn’t even very sure of what she thought, the door opened and Alan and Marcus walked in.

“Congratulations on not dying,” Alan said, making Davrin snort and Rook glare at him.

“See, I told you he’d make it,” Marcus said as he nudged Alan with his shoulder. "They told us you survived the joining, and so Laura told us to get your things ready here but to not bother you for a while.”

“Yet here you are,” Rook said sternly. Davrin nudged her leg with his foot again, rolling his eyes at her with an amused smirk.

“That was really nice of you, thank you,” Davrin told the junior wardens, smiling.

“Did you puke?” Marcus asked as he sat down at the end of the bed while Alan went to stand next to Rook. “Alan puked,” Marcus said and Alain glared at him, seeming mortified.

“No, I’m proud to say I kept in all the darkspawn blood,” Davrin joked darkly and the other junior wardens grimaced. They seemed to have welcomed Davrin nicely enough, and Rook was glad of it.

“Okay…I’ll leave you junior wardens to speak.” Davrin should make friends and probably those three had things to talk about as new wardens, she didn’t want to get in the middle of it. “Davrin, remember you have to go speak with Ser Arthur before it gets too late.” The sun was setting already.

“Alright.” Davrin frowned at her as if wondering if something was wrong since she was leaving, but she smiled at him in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“See you later, Rook.”

Rook was in her favorite tower of the outpost, sat down on the windowsill, looking at the stars, trying not to think of joinings or callings.

The door of the tower opened and Rook frowned at it. Everyone knew she could usually be found there, but nobody had ever come to bother her…was there something wrong?

It was Davrin who walked through the door. He looked better, as if he wasn’t feeling sick and in pain anymore. He’d washed and changed clothes, now wearing the downtime wardens uniform, with the collar of the shirt opened and the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and he hadn’t bothered with the belt.

“You look good,” Rook said aloud without thinking, looking away at Davrin’s raised eyebrow and barely concealed smirk. “Better, I mean.”

“I feel better,” Davrin said, approaching her. “You disappeared. They told me you’d be here.”

“You need something?” She asked, looking at him again.

Davrin shrugged, sitting down on the other end of the windowsill. “Not really.”

“Then you should be sleeping,” Rook told him. “Tomorrow is your first day of training.”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping too?” Davrin retorted and Rook shrugged, looking at the stars again.

“I don’t sleep much.”

“The nightmares?” Davrin asked softly.

Rook let out a noncommittal hum. The nightmares, and memories, and every other thought… She sighed and looked at Davrin. She should probably check on him instead of getting lost in thought.

“Everything okay?” She asked and he nodded. “How did it go with Alan and Marcus?”

“Good, we had fun.” Davrin grinned at her and Rook nodded, pleased.

“It’s good if you three are friends, joining almost at the same time and training here together, probably you three will be sent on missions together,” Rook explained.

“Good.” Davrin nodded. “Will you be sent with us?”

“I don’t know…maybe? But I doubt it.” Rook sighed. “I don’t know when I’ll be sent on a mission next or for how long they will keep me here.”

Davrin scoffed. “It’s unfair that they punish you for disagreeing with the First Warden.”

“For being disrespectful to a superior,” Rook added but Davrin just shrugged.

“Still…I’ve fought you, I’ve seen you fight darkspawn, it’s wasteful to have you here instead of out on missions,” he insisted.

“We just met, there’s plenty of time for you to realize too that I’m a shit warden,” she half-joked and Davrin huffed and rolled his eyes at her, exaggerating the gesture to make her smile.

“Nobody here thinks you’re a shit warden,” he told her. “Everyone I’ve heard talking about you today was saying good things.”

Rook made a sound, unsure of what to say, feeling rather bashful, and she went back to looking out of the window and to the stars. After a moment of silence, she looked at Davrin again, who seemed to be in thought.

“Junior warden, off to bed,” she told him. “Or you’ll regret it tomorrow on the training ground.” Davrin opened his mouth but Rook didn’t let him speak. “It’s an order.”

“Alright, alright…” Davrin chuckled, getting up. “But you should listen to your own advice.”

“In a moment…” Rook answered vaguely.

Davrin nodded, giving her a soft smile. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Rook nodded. “Goodnight, Davrin.”

***

I wrote and rewrote and edited this chapter a million times and I'm still unhappy about it but I'm just going to post it...it's not like I have that big of a public to be worrying so much about how it reads 😅 But I don't know, I'm not content with this chapter, but I can't keep editing it.

I'd like to tag @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @mythals-whore @sugar-peanut-cat @cute-ellyna and @thedissonantverses since you seemed interested the last time I talked about this, apolgies if this is inconvenient.

Thanks for reading, if you liked this, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

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