#it's been really difficult to internalize that even though i feel slow in every sense of the word when working on cars

[realmikedirnt]

w's for the day:

Facen't

.... by which i mean i got the radiator assembly off of the mini on my own. got a couple other things off as well, and i've been keeping everything labelled and recording how things go together. recording and labelling is probably making it all take half again as long, but fuck me if it wont be good to have later.

my cousin helped me find + assemble the engine hoist and stand, which are both fuck off heavy as hell and were tucked in the back corner of one of the garage bays bc of course. it's so strange that he's 15 now.

my syllabus for enviro chem got posted !

annnd finally we found a fill for all of my raid days that i'll miss yippee

[whitexwolfxx310]

I Love You In Every Universe

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Trying to mend your relationship with Bucky is going so painfully slow. And then it's not.

Warnings: Spicy content! 18+ only! Cursing, oral sex MTF, penetration, praise kink, small amount of submissive kink, and I think that's all?

Word Count: 3428

A/Ns: I needed to write a total smut post. Those seem to be pretty popular haha. We have Baker Bucky! I got a few requests for that! Anyway, enjoy! I'll continue the storyline in my next post!

Previous Part

Masterlist

Finding out that your brother is not only alive, but that he is the new face of Hydra, is one of the biggest twists that fate could spit out. After the terrifying realization that occurred in your office, you’ve been thrown into countless meetings and conferences where you were probed for information on Luke that wasn’t already disclosed in his military files.

Steve and Tony had constant questions and concerns about the situation. They felt that maybe Luke would try and reach out or maybe there was some hidden information that you would somehow be privy to. But it had been two years since everyone thought that he was long dead.

The tension in The Compound rose. Your job got put into question, certain people wondering why you would even apply to intern here in the first place. Are you a double agent? Finding and leaking information to Hydra from within? Your morals had never once been questioned until now.

Bucky was the only one who didn’t make the whole situation feel like an interrogation. He remained supportive, being the person to suggest you take time to recollect yourself when it became too much. The only one who didn’t have questions but was always silently there in the corner watching and listening, taking every bit of information in.

A task force was assigned to try and track Luke, in hope of him not being too far gone. It had been done with Bucky, could it be done with your brother as well? You were also chosen for this mission, which did not go over well with Bucky. Him and Tony had argued over using yourself as bait to draw him out. In the end, it was your decision, and you would chose to go.

Even with the stress of the current situation, you used Bucky as a welcomed distraction. Leaning on one another as you both grasped onto your undeniable tethered connection. There was still a long road to recovery for both Bucky and your relationship. But he did his damndest to make you feel as though you weren’t under constant surveillance (at least from him). When the daily brainstorming sessions were over, you both avoided the topic of Luke. It was still difficult to process the concept that he was still alive. It just didn’t seem real.

Taking things slow with Bucky has always been an understatement. A part of him is apprehensive, more so now than ever. There has been close to no physical contact. You truly don't know everything that he went through overseas, but it was apparent that he was still working his way through it. You had your 'boyfriend' back. Yet in a sense, you didn't. And still, his presence still left the same, if not more, desire in it's wake.

Bucky was given his own apartment within The Compound for the time being. Although there was nothing to be 'afraid' of, everyone, except yourself, felt that it was necessary to slowly ease back into his routines and not just cannonball into the deep end.

Spending time together had always been your favorite thing. But now, it was like everything was exciting and new once again. The two of you were dealing with the 'holes' Bruce had warned you about- and the dark cloud of your brother hanging over both of your heads. These said ‘holes’ were more along the lines of not remembering how you take your coffee and other small instances. He remembers you, and most of the time that you had shared.

You filled the limited free time in your days together with simplistic dates and doing things that he really took interest in. Going to the gym together, long drives with the windows down listening to music playing, but most of all... Bucky loved being in the kitchen. It was as if he had a new found passion for cooking and baking-something simplistic to lose himself in. But he wouldn't share that pastime with anyone else, feeling like he may be judged. Although, you had no complaints. There was no shortage on baked goods and even homemade bread from scratch.

Bucky is in the kitchen, covered in flour and chocolate. The clear evidence of him indulging in his guilty pleasure.

"Mmm. These are seriously the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever had." You mumble.

You didn't want to be rude by talking with your mouth full, but he eagerly watched, awaiting your reaction to his creation of the day.

"Really!?" He asks, excitedly.

Nodding your head and smiling, you go to take another bite of the cookie. Since it is still warm from recently coming out of the oven, it partially breaks- melty chocolate all over your face and hands.

There's a moment of silence- you and Bucky are looking at one another until his nose scrunches and he starts hysterically laughing. A sweet sound that I have missed for so long. It's contagious. The next thing you know, you're both laughing to the point of just wheezing. Your cheeks hurt, the place where your abs once were before he entered the baking scene, hurt. It wasn't even that funny, just one of those simplistic moments where you get to fully be yourselves. A core memory.

"You're a hot mess," Bucky says, trying to compose himself by fighting through the laughter. His cheeks are burning red. The harder he tries to subdue the laughing, the more he fails. "Come here..." He reaches for a dish towel, dampening it under the faucet of the sink before taking a few steps closer.

You abruptly stop laughing, taking in how suddenly close in proximity he is to you. Aside from the hello/goodbye awkward hugs that you look forward to just being in his arms for a moment- this is rediscovering old territory.

Your mouth opens slightly as you hold your breath, awaiting to see what he does next. Covering his thumb with the cloth, he ever so gently wipes chocolate off of your bottom lip. His eyes fasten their grip with your own, occasionally breaking contact to look down at your lips.

Kiss me. Your inner conscious is screaming, begging and pleading for him to make a move. To just be wrapped up in all that is him- to let go of the past few months and just be yourselves. You can feel your chest instinctively move closer to his- which is rising and falling deeply. Bucky's mouth opens slightly as he takes in a shuddering breath.

Yes... His eyes are now solely focused on your mouth. You impulsively bite your bottom lip, willing it into the universe for his lips to be on yours. You're met with glacier blue eyes, now looking deep within yours. You cannot help but look up at Bucky with pleading, desire filled eyes.

Please.

"I-" He starts. Time is standing still as you hang onto what he will say. "I...um-" He breaks the eye contact as he takes a step back. "I have to clean this kitchen. My OCD is getting the better of me." He nervously chuckles once.

"Oh." There is no hiding your disappointment.

Bucky grabs a nearby plate full of the cookies that he had just made.

"Here...some for you to take home." He offers, sounding hopeful that you’ll accept.

He's kicking me out. Point taken.

"Oh, okay. Well, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow?" You can only focus on the plate that he handed you, trying to hide the humiliation. Not even waiting for a response, you quickly dash out of his apartment.

Breaking into a full sprint in the hallway, your back at your own residence. Quickly shutting the door behind you and laying your back flat against it, your mind starts racing.

We will never get back to the way we were. Giving him time and space isn't enough. Maybe after all he has been through, he has moved past this relationship? Past me? But I love him. I promised I'd wait...but is he just prolonging the inevitable? Will my brother become the new thing to try and get between us? I can't just let him go... I can't. He needs to know.

In that moment you dropped the plate; The shattering muffled slightly from the softness of the cookies. You didn't care. Turning around to open the door and run back to his living quarters- professing your love and need like some girl in a romcom you would make fun of.

You swing open the door, about to dart out when you smack into something. Someone.

"Oh, sorry I-....Bucky?" Shocked is an understatement.

He's standing at your door with an anxious look on his face- still covered in flour.

"I-..." He starts. Your heart is pounding- the sound of your heartbeat swooshing in your ears.

"Fuck it." Bucky breathes as he takes a step forward. Cupping both sides of your face, hungrily pressing his lips into yours.

Immediately you liquify into the kiss. His lips taste sweet- the remanence from his all day baking. Your arms interlock behind his neck as he steps forward- pushing you backwards into your apartment without his lips leaving yours.

It doesn't matter that you clumsily stumble behind, Bucky keeps you steady by holding each side of your waist while sustaining the kiss. Once through the doorway, he uses the back of his boot to loudly kick the door closed- not caring who might see or hear.

Guiding you against the wall of the hallway, Bucky reaches behind his neck and grabs your hands to pin them on the surface above your head, his metal hand still on your hip. The assertive motion causes a chain reaction- a small whimper from your throat echoes into his mouth. Being held firmly in place, your hips hungerly try to buck up into his body, greedily needing every point of physical contact possible.

His lips break away, but only for a moment as they move down to your neck. His tongue grazes, teeth nip occasionally through the soft suction noises his mouth leaves behind. You know that you'll be marked in just a matter of time. But it is his public claim on you that you'll proudly wear.

While keeping your hands pinned against the wall, Bucky's free hand starts to explore your body; painfully gentle he traces along your side, the bottom of your stomach, between your breasts, etc. But he's being cautious. He knows how to manhandle you and this is not it. Call it selfish, but after a total of 2 months of not being with him, you want aggressive Bucky.

"Bucky..." You breathe. The sound of his name makes him stop.

His body leans more into yours- touching chest to chest, which is growing more difficult due to the heavy breathing. Pressing his forehead into yours, his vision still focused on the trail of red blotches he's left behind.

"Hmm?" He answers as he adjusts his posture slightly so that his thigh is now between your legs. If you pressed your hips down the tiniest bit against him, the evidence of just how desperate you are for him would be all over his leg.

"Don't hold back." You say softly, but confidently. Bucky's eyes blaze to yours with a look of exhilaration dancing across them.

"Don't worry..." His voice is deep, husky.

The hand that he was using to pin your arms above your head lets go- letting it gradually slip down to your jawline. He hooks your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, encouraging you to turn your head. Bucky leans in, his breath hot against your cheek.

"I'll take care of you." It comes out low, from the back of his throat. The throbbing between your legs starts to become fierce. In addition, his tongue presses flat to your cheek, licking the side of your face just once.

Using one prompt motion, Bucky is now carrying you bridal style. His lips rashly press back to yours. Even with your eyes closed, you can feel the gentle sway of him walking- the sound of his footsteps pressing down into the floor.

He sits you on the edge of the bed, getting down on his knees and hooking each of his pointer fingers into the waistband of your jeans to start shimmying them down. Lifting your feet barely off the floor to get your pants the rest of the way off, Bucky discards them and encourages you to lay back on the bed.

Still on his knees, Bucky leans in and places one velvety soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. The lack of touch for months has left you on a whole new level of sensitive. A low moan in the form of a hum reverberates in your throat. The warm air resulting from a tiny snort from him already making your legs twitch.

Hitching your knees over his shoulders, the tips of his fingers gently caress the inside of your thighs. It's almost painful how good it feels. Taking his warm pointer finger he swipes once in the middle of your folds- above the panties.

"You're already so wet for me. What a good girl." Bucky purrs.

I'm about to get absolutely fucking wrecked.

Your eyes roll back and close as your back arches, gripping the bedsheets already feeling like a volcano about to erupt just from Bucky's heated breath.

*Thwap*

The slight sting in the groin takes you by surprise. Propping yourself on your elbows, you look down to Bucky with confusion. He's gazing into your eyes and a playful smile.

"I want you to look at me." His voice is still smoky and deep.

Being so hyper focused on everything he was doing, including looking up at you from between your legs, you wouldn't even need to be touched to lose control at this point. Even just the thought of his body covering yours is sending cold shudders of ice down your spine.

Without warning, he shoves the back of your thighs so that your head is between your knees. Now kneeling on the bed, he holds you in place, leaving yourself completely exposed; propped up right to his face, occupied with a content and cunning grin.

Fuck.

With locked eyes, Bucky focuses on your face as his mouth simply presses directly on you. Allowing for you to have a small moment before he starts to work his magic. You gasp at the connection; your knees going weak as you grip onto the bedsheets underneath you.

'I want you to look at me.' His voice rings in your head. It takes every molecule in your body to hold his gaze with his head between your thighs, but you do. Just like the obedient woman that you are for him. His ridged tongue sweeps over your labia as a form of slow and delicious torture. The licking over your sensitive skin causes you to whimper- Bucky looks at you through hooded eyes as he makes a few small reverberating sounds in his throat as approval.

Moaning, you can't help but grind your hips against his face. It feels incredible. He feels incredible. The leisurely, steady, sensual motions tell you that he's enjoying this as much as you are. You're practically coming off of the bed, but Bucky holds you in place as you start panting- the sounds coming from your breath are pleading, begging for that outer body, earthshattering orgasm.

"Please," You sigh, as your hand digs and grips tightly into his hair; knowing full well that it's slightly painful but don't care. Your quiet request is received as his tongue swirls around the entrance of your core. Once, twice, three times and then you come apart.

Unsure if you are screaming his name, thrashing against him, or whatever else, as you can only see stars in the moment. There is no room for any sort of coherent thought. Spent and exhausted are an understatement as Bucky lifts his head- His eyes practically glowing as he licked the lips of his sinfully wet mouth.

"I love it when you squirm," it comes out as a purr.

He carefully lays you back down before crawling over your body like a panther, his hips pressed in and down against your own. You're pleased to find that he is already naked from the waist down, raring to go.

Bucky's hand tenderly grazes your cheek as your chest still heavily rises and falls. It isn't long until your fingertips are dragging across the hot, soft skin of his chest. His hips settle between yours and you instinctively lock a leg around them. You can feel him press against your entrance, wanting, needing to be inside of you. Now you're lasered focused on him as you wait for that sharp breath as he pushes himself in and his eyes practically roll back in his head.

"I want you to look at me," You think to yourself and completely understand the fascination in that moment.

Beginning to press inch by precious, thick inch, you're grateful for the remanence of your orgasm which helps to ease his way inside. "Fuck," he breathes out as he looks downward to watch himself enter. You smirk to yourself knowing just how tight you are and can feel your walls contracting around him, a silent invitation to bring his enormous length in deeper. Once Bucky was fully inside, down to the base, his eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as he took in the sensation. Once they opened, his gaze was sealed on yours.

Taking in a deep breath in unison, he waits as you become accustomed to stretching around him. His hips wriggle the tiniest bit before he pulls back and shallowly thrusts in once; The sound escaping from his lips makes every single nerve ending in your body light up. You suck in a sharp breath as he finds his rhythm, his pubic bone teasing your clit with every push. The smallest adjustment and he is now inclined so that each ridge can brush against your g-spot with every stroke. Forward and back. Forward and back.

Bucky almost growls as you claw at his back and practically scream in pleasure. Your lips mesh against his bicep, stifling your moans ever so slightly. You come again. And again. He relentlessly keeps the same pace, your body shuddering under his to the point that your mouth is wide open but no noise is coming out. You start to feel the familiar pulsing inside you, filling you. It's warm; a few degrees hotter than his body pressed against yours. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts harder, coming over and over again, (which you didn't even think was possible).

He collapses on top of you like a weighted blanket as he tries to level his breathing. Bucky's body continues to tremble against yours. A moment later he shifts his weight to lay next to you. Placing a kiss against your temple, Bucky pulls you in close against him; The coolness from his metal arm almost bites at the beads of sweat across your skin. The familiarity of his body spooning into yours is so comforting that you drift to sleep.

During the night you stir, reaching for Bucky on the other side of the bed to only be met with cold sheets. He's gone. Your heart drops to your stomach as you sit up, holding the blanket up to your chest to cover yourself as you stare at the emptiness beside you.

Maybe it was too fast.

Something catches your attention out of your peripheral vision. You quickly look to the corner of your room, which is especially dark for the time of night. You squint, seeing something- But unable to make out what it is. Though, your stomach jumps in excitement.

"Bucky?" You ask, sounding almost too hopeful. As your eyes adjust to the bold darkness, you can see his silhouette in the corner. But he doesn't move. It doesn't even look like he's breathing. He sits so completely still that it's... terrifying.

"Bucky...?" Calling his name softly, you realize that this might be one of those moments you had been warned about. Your mind is racing and blank at the same time as you reach for scenarios and resolutions- but come up with nothing.

Until...

You clear your throat softly, pulling yourself into a sitting fetal position. Why of all things this came to mind, you have no idea. You're hoping, praying that you are wrong. You cringe as the word slips out.

"Soldat?"

"Ya gotov otvechet." Ready to comply.

Fuck.

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @floralwsloki @erinallene @fafafalafel @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @winterassisin84 @cjand10

[rphunter]

hello everybody !! i just wanted to make a roleplay blog for all of my fandomless roleplays ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ i am currently 19 years old, a broke little college student and someone who is currently residing within the est time zone ٩(˵˃̶ω˂̶˵)◞* i am currently looking for a long term fandomless oc partner who loves ooc talk !! i just overall love becoming friends with the people i am roleplaying with ^^ 18+ people ONLY !! i can go from semi lit, lit, to novella !! i tend to copy but please please please be literate and go slow in the plots !! i am completely fine with smut as long as it does not take up the entire rp unless the plot calls for it x3 i like a good 20 / 80 smut to plot ratio !! i love to read and write !! and i have been in the roleplay community for roughly about 9 - 10 years now !! ( idk how i started so young if i'm being quite frank... ) i would prefer if i had a rather active roleplay partner but if not then thats perfectly fine !! i however, for my sake i would at least want a response every other day if that is okay !! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ i do however also want to mention that i only roleplay on discord !!

🧸 ⎯⎯ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

coven is really the sweetest guy. he's gentle, super introverted, super shy. he has always been the type that just notices so many tiny things about people just to make them feel heard and taken care of. on the exterior, a very composed and reliable person, though internally drowned by tons of insecurities in his head—mostly because he got bullied at school, some tough stuff with his childhood best friend, who turned out to be the biggest bully of his life. he's a creative soul: baking, painting, playing music. he also overthinks and stresses a whole lot.

he feels under big pressure since he's supposed to take over his family's café, and sometimes he feels like he's not strong enough for that. basically, he wants someone patient and understanding, someone who understands him and his passions. besides, he is a romantic soul, and in relationships, he searches for something mild and meaningful. he hasn't got much experience with love, yet he surely is the kind of guy who would open up just as soon as he would feel comfortable and secured.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ louis partridge | anime ⎯ yeonwoo sunjeong

🥃 ⎯⎯ 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

laurence is the kind of man who is all about intellect, especially when it comes to psychology. since he was little, he was fascinated by how people think and behave. smart and capable of explaining even the most intricate things in such a way that somehow would make sense to others, his students like him. he is serious and reserved but actually a very sensitive person who prefers deep, profound contact over light contact.

he is bad in big social environments and has a bit of social anxiety. he guards his emotions and tends to overwork himself, thus forgetting one's own needs at times. laurence is very choosy as to whom he connects with. no small talk, no casual talking. his partner has to challenge him on an intellectual level and share his values, particularly in deep conversations.

speaking about relationships, he seeks a sort of understanding—nothing that necessarily places so much importance on sex in a relationship. he likes being in control in bed and really loves intensity; for him, though, everything else is just trumped by the emotional. laurence is a bit difficult to put across, but when you get past the mask, you will get somebody very passionate, very caring, who actually just wants to find somebody that does understand him, basically.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ zario bolanos | anime ⎯ cheng xiaoshi

🚬 ⎯⎯ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐔. 's profile.

souta is a mess, but somehow an endearing one. outwardly, he's hypercharismatic and adaptable, always wearing that charming persona, but he's got a seriously unstable mess emotionally. mostly, he struggles to establish an identity for himself and more often than not finds himself detached and lonely because of this. this manipulative streak he has is from some fear of rejection when he tries to be openly vulnerable. he works as a bartender, loves to indulge in music and photography, but does things like drinking and smoking as a coping mechanism. he yearns for honesty and depth in his relationships, but his fear of losing his identity—or just getting hurt—holds him back. an enigma, he is—walking and talking—charming, yet lost; craving intimacy, yet scared of it.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ kento yamazaki | anime ⎯ yoru / jin saotome ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ i will kiss u on the mouth if you are open for dark themes that'll have people clutching their pearls !! i love taboo themes a lot so i would also prefer if my partner did as well !! currently i am only looking for a m x m roleplay with these fellas !! if you are interested please either interact with this post or go ahead and send me a message ^^

.

[notaeri]

hello everybody !! i just wanted to make a roleplay blog for all of my fandomless roleplays ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ i am currently 19 years old, a broke little college student and someone who is currently residing within the est time zone ٩(˵˃̶ω˂̶˵)◞* i am currently looking for a long term fandomless oc partner who loves ooc talk !! i just overall love becoming friends with the people i am roleplaying with ^^ 18+ people ONLY !! i can go from semi lit, lit, to novella !! i tend to copy but please please please be literate and go slow in the plots !! i love to read and write !! and i have been in the roleplay community for roughly about 9 - 10 years now !! ( idk how i started so young if i'm being quite frank... ) i would prefer if i had a rather active roleplay partner but if not then thats perfectly fine !! i however, for my sake i would at least want a response every other day if that is okay !! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ i do however also want to mention that i only roleplay on discord !!

🧸 ⎯⎯ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

coven is really the sweetest guy. he's gentle, super introverted, super shy. he has always been the type that just notices so many tiny things about people just to make them feel heard and taken care of. on the exterior, a very composed and reliable person, though internally drowned by tons of insecurities in his head—mostly because he got bullied at school, some tough stuff with his childhood best friend, who turned out to be the biggest bully of his life. he's a creative soul: baking, painting, playing music. he also overthinks and stresses a whole lot.

he feels under big pressure since he's supposed to take over his family's café, and sometimes he feels like he's not strong enough for that. basically, he wants someone patient and understanding, someone who understands him and his passions. besides, he is a romantic soul, and in relationships, he searches for something mild and meaningful. he hasn't got much experience with love, yet he surely is the kind of guy who would open up just as soon as he would feel comfortable and secured.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ louis partridge | anime ⎯ yeonwoo sunjeong

🥃 ⎯⎯ 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

laurence is the kind of man who is all about intellect, especially when it comes to psychology. since he was little, he was fascinated by how people think and behave. smart and capable of explaining even the most intricate things in such a way that somehow would make sense to others, his students like him. he is serious and reserved but actually a very sensitive person who prefers deep, profound contact over light contact.

he is bad in big social environments and has a bit of social anxiety. he guards his emotions and tends to overwork himself, thus forgetting one's own needs at times. laurence is very choosy as to whom he connects with. no small talk, no casual talking. his partner has to challenge him on an intellectual level and share his values, particularly in deep conversations.

speaking about relationships, he seeks a sort of understanding—nothing that necessarily places so much importance on sex in a relationship. he likes being in control in bed and really loves intensity; for him, though, everything else is just trumped by the emotional. laurence is a bit difficult to put across, but when you get past the mask, you will get somebody very passionate, very caring, who actually just wants to find somebody that does understand him, basically.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ zario bolanos | anime ⎯ cheng xiaoshi

🚬 ⎯⎯ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐔. 's profile.

souta is a mess, but somehow an endearing one. outwardly, he's hypercharismatic and adaptable, always wearing that charming persona, but he's got a seriously unstable mess emotionally. mostly, he struggles to establish an identity for himself and more often than not finds himself detached and lonely because of this. this manipulative streak he has is from some fear of rejection when he tries to be openly vulnerable. he works as a bartender, loves to indulge in music and photography, but does things like drinking and smoking as a coping mechanism. he yearns for honesty and depth in his relationships, but his fear of losing his identity—or just getting hurt—holds him back. an enigma, he is—walking and talking—charming, yet lost; craving intimacy, yet scared of it.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ kento yamazaki | anime ⎯ yoru / jin saotome ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ i will kiss u on the mouth if you are open for dark themes that'll have people clutching their pearls !! i love taboo themes a lot so i would also prefer if my partner did as well !! currently i am only looking for a m x m roleplay with these fellas !! if you are interested please either interact with this post or go ahead and send me a message ^^

[mackey-sims]

It's been a difficult pregnancy, possibly because of its rough start or maybe because of Claire's age. The baby's spending another afternoon kicking and fighting like a future martial arts champion when she answers the door to find a pair of deliverymen waiting outside. Behind them is a heavy-looking box with a crib just waiting to be assembled.

It isn't the first such delivery, but it is the largest. Bottles, blankets, diapers, even imported formula from overseas... Claire lives in the moment to keep from feeling overwhelmed, while Erin is incapable of not planning ahead.

She's spending her evenings out, looking into anything and everything involving parenthood and bringing that information home. Digital research hardly seems like the strong suit of a complete technophobe like her, but when Claire says as much while picking at her dinner, her friend only laughs lightly.

"You're right, I barely know how to make an order off Simazon. There's no chance I'd be able to figure out how to navigate all of this without Connor. He's been a big help."

The name Connor sounds familiar in some vague way, but Salmon Valley is a small town, so most names do. Apparently, Erin met him through a story he's writing for the paper about working mothers.

"Really nice kid— too shy to just come over, though," she adds.

Journalist or not, Claire finds it odd for him to go so far out of his way like this. When asked, Fiona can only offer a little more elaboration.

"Yes, I think there's a Connor in the newsroom. He's quiet and he keeps his head down, but... I didn't know the interns were writing stories on their own like that. Mostly, they're proofreading and fact-checking for us."

Claire knows she shouldn't scoff at the kindness of a stranger, but given her usual experiences with men, she can't help but be a little cynical. Her best guess is that some young guy's taken an interest in a solidly oblivious Erin. He'll probably be a lot less "shy" about coming over when there isn't a cranky pregnant redhead stomping around.

That thought causes a funny little pang that has nothing to do with the baby playing tug-of-war with her insides. Maybe she's just gotten so comfortable with their current arrangement, the thought of change is bothering her again.

And it seems Claire's baby is as resistant to change as she is, because they're a week past her due date when an appointment is made. They'll have to induce labor, the doctors say— it isn't entirely surprising, and "not yet time for concern"...

... but she still is. She's staring at the newly assembled crib when the worst kind of cramp clenches inside of her. She holds the railings for support and tries to ride it out, but the pain simply ebbs and slows like a tide, never fully going away.

Then it's a wave, in every sense of the word. Her water's broken. The baby is coming on its own terms, and not theirs.

sorry if that was way too text-heavy aaaa i wasn't sure how else to get across everything i wanted to & i still haven't quite delved into the wide world of poses/pose player yet

[whatiswhump]

Chronic Pain in Whump potentially for post recovery Whumpees

I have a rare autoimmune/ autoinflammatory disease which results in severe joint pain, internal bleeding (mostly in GI tract), nerve spasms/ pain, loss of feeling in limbs from time to time, and other things.

Now I am on chemo to treat it now that we finally diagnosed it. I can describe the surprising side effects of the chemo I didn't expect in another post if anyone is curious.

I used to be an active person so although the progression of the disease was quite slow for a while, when I could no longer ignore it, the decline looked quite abrupt to all those around me. One day I was functioning (although struggling massively) and the next day I was not at all.

Nerve pain- like electricity jabs, I can feel them and their patterns, sometimes I involuntarily twitch from them they’re so strong. I can almost visualize the tree-like paths. Even more often it is like have a piece of glass stuck in my toe or finger that I keep feeling for days or weeks at a time.

A couple of years ago I was so convinced I had glass in my toe after an afternoon with sandals at the pub that when I couldn't get it out at home, we went to the A and E and I asked them to take a scalpel to my foot to get it out. Even though they didn't see anything in the xray I insisted and they did. I kept asking them to dig deeper and deeper becuase I could FEEL it. Eventually they said we had to stop. Years later I found out it is nerve damage. The nerves have been pressed and frayed in ways they aren’t meant to and even if they do heal, they take a Very Long time to heal- so if a whumpee undergoes torture, I’d bet they’ll be feeling those shocks for months or years afterwards if any nerves are compromised.

Joint Pain- Warm, so incredibly warm- my sister can feel the heat radiating off the affected joints when she touches them, my wrist will be hot while forearm cool, elbow- hot. The pain radiates too- dull, blunt, throbbing pain. Coying and filling every sense like a suffocating fog. Not sharp like a knife cut, like nerves, or an initial break of a bone. But no less intense. It feels like the joints will implode from the inside out of the steady but sure pressure that has to go somewhere- surely a body can't hold so much pain. Moving is difficult because you are so stiff, stairs seems almost impossible and in and out of bed is a herculanean task. You fall asleep when exhaustion overrides pain and in a few hours wake up when pain overrides exhaustion, it is a cycle, over and over for months and then years. My previous boyfriend could practically time down to the minute when I’d wake in the night with this schedule. This pain can be so brutal it can bring on nausea too. Surprising for something blunt.

Internal Bleeding- I bled for about a year before anything could be done about it. It hurt so much too but I was a 22 year old woman so it none of the doctors were overly concerned or pressured to figure out why despite such alarming symptoms. My family was shocked.

The first thing is normal iron levels plummeted. They didn't know why until later that it was becuase of the continual significant blood loss (important to keep in mind for characters who lose a lot of blood). It was like I donated a bag of blood every two days or less. I had to sit every week to get a bag of black colored iron infused into my veins to get back to a reasonable amount of iron- my body could make more blood but couldn’t get that much more iron from nowhere. I did that for a few months after the bleeding stopped. When the bleeding stopped, the worsening anemia stopped too.

It actually really does make you pale to bleed internally like that over time. When I saw the hematologist that was the first thing he said about my appearance and soon after the internal bleeding slowed, there was pink under my skin again. Your whumpee really will look visibly different if they can stop the bleeding for a bit. Having enough blood makes you warmer and pinker looking.

I doubt this is very helpful... but I guess this is my way of beginning to write about chronic pain and whump- I'd really like to use it! So this was a first exercise.

[blackberreh-art]

Sleep (part 1)

It's rare for Toshinori to catch All for One asleep. At first he'd thought it was because All for One could not bear to let down his defences in the presence of a (former due to circumstances) enemy. He never seemed to get tired, he never seemed sluggish or in any way slow, but the bags under his eyes grew darker and darker as the days passed. 

That lasted until one day, Toshinori didn't see All for One for a solid eighteen hours. He never left the apartment next door - Toshinori checked the cameras every now and then, but the lump that was All for One on the blanket and pillow smothered bed didn't move–much.

Toshinori didn't move to his own bed, even as his eyes grew heavy. He remained on his couch, only leaving to refill his tea or cough into the sink, occupying himself with slowly turning the pages of a book that never really sank in, and staring at the camera feed for minutes at a time. It wasn’t like All for One slept like the dead. He tossed and he turned and pillows fell to the floor and the blankets followed. Toshinori had muted the sound after the first hour, unable to stand the ineligible muttering – perhaps wanting to grant the ex-villain some form of privacy in the wake of having his whole existence under constant watch?

Maybe. Sympathy was something Toshinori had in droves, but never when it came to All for One. 

(It was getting harder to stay in denial. Toshinori was too fucking soft.) 

That morning All for One slipped in with an entirely too jovial 'knock knock' and a lazy grin, and Toshinori blinked at him dully from his huddle on the couch. Face drawn, darker circles than usual, irritability metre at full.

All for One took one look at him, clucked his tongue like a scolding mother, and breezed over to the couch he huddled on. “Really, you look like you’re about to pass out. What good are you if you’re useless to me, hmm–?”

All for one scooped Toshinori up, blanket and all. That earned All for One an elbow to the face, resulting in Toshinori falling to the floor in a heap, tangled in his blanket and cursing up a storm. Petty, he kicked All for One's shin hard, making the villain stumble.

They tousled for a moment. It wasn't the first physical fight they'd had since Toshinori had become All for One’s live in guard, but it was probably the least violent. For all that Toshinori was half the man he once was and missing half his internal organs, physically All for One wasn't much better. His body was unstable, especially without access to his quirks, and it wasn't too difficult to get him pinned beneath Toshinori's thin frame.

Either All for One was feeling lazy or he was in a good mood, because he stopped struggling entirely too quickly. He let out a huff, a large hand curled around one of Toshinori's hip, and gave it a squeeze. Too kind, too gentle. "As much as I enjoy having your thighs around my head, this accursed mortal frame requires sustenance to survive, so perhaps you could-"

And Toshi was scrambling away from him as if burned, a thick curl of anger and disgust in his gut. Those smug too-knowing eyes watched him, laughing without sound, and Toshinori focused on busying himself in the kitchen – breakfast, and then he would nap. Maybe.

He kept thinking, though. The dark circles under All for One’s eyes had faded. He’d seen All for One sleep for the first time in the few months they’d been living next to each other. It couldn’t be the first time he’d slept, as much as Toshinori doubted All for One was still human at times, he had no quirks helping to keep his fragile body functioning now, so he’d had to have slept at some point.

He must have usually done it while Toshinori was sleeping. So why’d he deviate now?

Not for the first time, All for One as a creature made absolutely no sense to Toshinori. 

(He hated how he was starting to want to understand)

[darkrpfinders]

hello everybody !! i just wanted to make a roleplay blog for all of my fandomless roleplays ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ i am currently 19 years old, a broke little college student and someone who is currently residing within the est time zone ٩(˵˃̶ω˂̶˵)◞* i am currently looking for a long term fandomless oc partner who loves ooc talk !! i just overall love becoming friends with the people i am roleplaying with ^^ 18+ people ONLY !! i can go from semi lit, lit, to novella !! i tend to copy but please please please be literate and go slow in the plots !! i am 100% okay with smut as well as long as it does not take up the entire roleplay unless the scenario calls for it x3 i like a 20 / 80 smut to plot ratio !! i love to read and write !! and i have been in the roleplay community for roughly about 9 - 10 years now !! ( idk how i started so young if i'm being quite frank... ) i would prefer if i had a rather active roleplay partner but if not then thats perfectly fine !! i however, for my sake i would at least want a response every other day if that is okay !! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ i do however also want to mention that i only roleplay on discord !!

🧸 ⎯⎯ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

coven is really the sweetest guy. he's gentle, super introverted, super shy. he has always been the type that just notices so many tiny things about people just to make them feel heard and taken care of. on the exterior, a very composed and reliable person, though internally drowned by tons of insecurities in his head—mostly because he got bullied at school, some tough stuff with his childhood best friend, who turned out to be the biggest bully of his life. he's a creative soul: baking, painting, playing music. he also overthinks and stresses a whole lot.

he feels under big pressure since he's supposed to take over his family's café, and sometimes he feels like he's not strong enough for that. basically, he wants someone patient and understanding, someone who understands him and his passions. besides, he is a romantic soul, and in relationships, he searches for something mild and meaningful. he hasn't got much experience with love, yet he surely is the kind of guy who would open up just as soon as he would feel comfortable and secured.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ louis partridge | anime ⎯ yeonwoo sunjeong

🥃 ⎯⎯ 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

laurence is the kind of man who is all about intellect, especially when it comes to psychology. since he was little, he was fascinated by how people think and behave. smart and capable of explaining even the most intricate things in such a way that somehow would make sense to others, his students like him. he is serious and reserved but actually a very sensitive person who prefers deep, profound contact over light contact.

he is bad in big social environments and has a bit of social anxiety. he guards his emotions and tends to overwork himself, thus forgetting one's own needs at times. laurence is very choosy as to whom he connects with. no small talk, no casual talking. his partner has to challenge him on an intellectual level and share his values, particularly in deep conversations.

speaking about relationships, he seeks a sort of understanding—nothing that necessarily places so much importance on sex in a relationship. he likes being in control in bed and really loves intensity; for him, though, everything else is just trumped by the emotional. laurence is a bit difficult to put across, but when you get past the mask, you will get somebody very passionate, very caring, who actually just wants to find somebody that does understand him, basically.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ zario bolanos | anime ⎯ cheng xiaoshi

🚬 ⎯⎯ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐔. 's profile.

souta is a mess, but somehow an endearing one. outwardly, he's hypercharismatic and adaptable, always wearing that charming persona, but he's got a seriously unstable mess emotionally. mostly, he struggles to establish an identity for himself and more often than not finds himself detached and lonely because of this. this manipulative streak he has is from some fear of rejection when he tries to be openly vulnerable. he works as a bartender, loves to indulge in music and photography, but does things like drinking and smoking as a coping mechanism. he yearns for honesty and depth in his relationships, but his fear of losing his identity—or just getting hurt—holds him back. an enigma, he is—walking and talking—charming, yet lost; craving intimacy, yet scared of it.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ kento yamazaki | anime ⎯ yoru / jin saotome ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ i will kiss u on the mouth if you are open for dark themes that'll have people clutching their pearls !! i love taboo themes a lot so i would also prefer if my partner did as well !! currently i am only looking for a m x m roleplay with these fellas !! if you are interested please either interact with this post or go ahead and send me a message ^^

.

[mandalhoerian]

I've been postponing this fic for the longest time because i wanted to leave like a GINOURMOUS review and I could never get into it after all this time, but finally im here. man. what a journey.

genuinely, where do I begin? this is an absolute emotional rollercoaster, and I couldn’t stop reading once I started. You really have a way of capturing the subtle, almost painful complexities of platonic relationships, especially one as delicate and fragile as this marriage of convenience between Leon and the reader. I’m blown away by how you’ve painted this relationship with all its tension, longing, and emotional distance, yet still made it feel so human. So here’s a breakdown of what I absolutely loved and a few thoughts as a reader who’s deeply invested in this story:

First off, the way you write Leon is just phenomenal. I loved how you stayed true to his canon characterization, stoic, emotionally distant, yet deep down, you can tell there’s a man who desperately wants connection but is too scared or too broken to reach for it. His dialogue feels so natural, especially those moments where he deflects the reader’s deeper questions or retreats into his own emotional safety net. It’s so Leon to avoid vulnerability and settle into routines rather than confront the growing distance between them.

The reader's voice is also heartbreakingly real. Her inner monologues, her quiet yearning, and the way she tries to balance her feelings with the cold reality of their situation are handled with such care. The subtle ways she tries to connect with Leon, only to be met with his emotionally unavailable responses, really made something churn in my gut not gonna lie. There’s this underlying tension in every interaction--she loves him, but she’s not sure if he’s capable of loving her back in the way she needs. It makes every small gesture from him, like splitting a dumpling or warming her hands, feel monumental. You’ve crafted a relationship where the smallest actions speak volumes, and that’s really difficult to pull off!

I felt the heaviness of their emotional distance so keenly throughout the fic. You masterfully wove in the theme of ‘convenience’--it starts off almost innocently, but by the end, it’s so CAKED UP with bitterness and regret that it feels like a weight on their entire relationship. The way the reader hates the word “convenient” because it represents everything wrong in their marriage is such a brilliant way to show her internal conflict. The repetition of that word, especially when Leon uses it so casually, really deepened the sense of her isolation.

What struck me most was how this wasn’t just a slow-burn romance in the traditional sense, it’s a story about two people who are already married but are still navigating the slow burn of their emotional connection. It’s a painful, messy love story, and you didn’t shy away from showing the awkwardness and heartache of it all. The small moments of tenderness are like little sparks, but they never quite catch fire the way the reader (and we as readers) hope they will. And that’s so real.

Your descriptions of their domestic life are so tender, even though they’re filled with unspoken resentment. The scene where Leon is tipsy and slightly more open, leaning on the reader, was so OUHHHHHHH. It’s clear he craves closeness but doesn’t know how to express it sober, which is so Leon. And the way the reader treasures these fleeting moments, knowing they won’t last when he sobers up--is just. Girl, are you sure you don't want a divorce? How are you living a situationship in a marriage? No matter how much Leon gaslights the reader THAT'S WHAT IT IS.

(Ngl the reader and Cathy are my roman empire. forget allison. cathy is just haunting the reader throughout this i felt like there was a love story hidden behind love me more about them. What do you mean they would spend their whole lives together. What do you mean the reader's whole life was centered around Cathy. What do you mean the men Cathy found for the reader never worked out. *insert which could mean nothing meme here* This kind of complex relationships just makes me go out of my mind. Dead person haunting the narrative is even worse. Gosh)

The final confrontation was cathartic in its own way, with much more left to be explored. I was like GOD FINALLY when the reader confronts Leon about what she means to him, and when he deflects with “You’re my wife,” it’s like the emotional equivalent of a bitch slap. I think we all wanted her to scream at him, to demand more from him, but her quiet resignation felt more true to her character and the tone you’ve set up throughout the fic. It’s almost like she knows she’ll never get the love she truly wants, but she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe, maybe, one day he’ll open up.

The ending leaves us in that perfect space of ambiguity. There’s no grand declaration of love, no sweeping romantic gestures, but instead, we’re left with the sense that both characters are stuck in this limbo, loving each other in ways that don’t quite align, but not willing to let go. It’s heartbreaking, but in a way that feels true to the story you’ve been telling from the start, "love me more".

Your portrayal of Leon and the reader’s relationship is so nuanced—it’s not just about love, but about the difficult work of connecting with someone who has built walls around themselves. It’s about loneliness, grief, and trying to make sense of a relationship that’s supposed to offer comfort but often leaves you feeling more isolated.

You’ve created something that feels so real, and I just want to thank you for writing this! It’s not easy to capture the intricacies of a flawed relationship, but you did it beautifully. I was fully invested in their journey, even though it left me feeling all the things (in the best way possible).

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

>> read PART II.

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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.”

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.

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!) >> read PART II.

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Irresistable*

Azriel x Reader

* = NSFW. EXPLICIT CONTENT.

Summary: Whilst training with Azriel, you make one too many ‘innocent’ mistakes and his resolve wavers with each one until he can’t take it anymore.

Warning: NSFW, forbidden romance, teasing, shitty writing with no sense, out of character azriel, piece of crap - posting anyway aha

Word Count: 2539

"You need to tighten your core" Azriel instructs, voice soft and unjudgemental but aggravating nonetheless.

"I am tightening" I grit from between my teeth, working with all my waning strength on moving along the balance beam.

Azriel and I had been training only for a couple of weeks now after I'd finally decided I wanted to learn how to defend myself or at least be able to hold my own until I could get to safety. However, my insipid mortal reflexes and strength was making it insanely difficult to learn anything.

Considering my being the remaining mortal sister of the Archerons after thankfully being on a short trip to see a friend at the time my other sisters had been kidnapped and turned, it seemed like an even better idea. Especially to my overprotective older sisters. Sometimes, being the only human around definitely sucked and others, like when my sisters got roped into Fae bullshit...it definitely didn't.

It did really suck I wouldn't find a mate, though. That sounded incredibly...convenient.

"You may think you're engaging your core but you're not" Azriel says, moving slightly closer, his shadows surrounding him in the soft dawn light.

"You know what, if this is so easy then-ah!" I squeal as I fall off the beam, stumbling slightly and gripping the beams surface to keep from slipping as my feet land hard on the floor, ground shock reverberating up my legs, "Ugh, this sucks!"

Azriel chuckles softly, "You'll get it."

"It doesn't feel like it" I grumble

Azriel comes up behind me, placing one large hand across my stomach, pushing against it softly, "You need to act as if you're sucking in your stomach, belly button to spine."

I do exactly that, my stomach concaving in, forcing his hand to slip from my stomach and back to his side and Azriel laughs - a big, joyful chuckle, the loudest I'd ever heard from him.

"Was that a laugh?" I smirk, quirking one eyebrow

"I do laugh, you know."

"Not often...and not around me."

"Focus. We're not here to discuss my social habits. Now, I meant internally. It may sound strange but visualise it in your mind and then pull your stomach in and hold it. You'll feel it."

My smirk slips and I nod, focusing. I do as he instructs and though he is right, it does feel strange, I definitely feel it in my stomach, an odd and uncomfortable tightening sensation as if my stomach was benching a weight.

"Ow" I pout, releasing my stomach, "I don't like that"

"You'll get used to it" Azriel smiles, "Now, come on, back up on the beam and try again"

"Will you catch me if I fall?" I tease, my smirk returning. Though he may be over 200 years older than me, strictly off limits because of his being a completely different and dangerous race from me and completely emotionally unavailable, it didn't mean I couldn't flirt.

"Of course" Azriel responds, tone all business. I roll my eyes slightly as I hop back up onto the beam, one foot in front of the other.

Squeezing my eyes slightly against the pressure, I perform my weird suck-in thing to engage my core, taking a tentative step forward...and finding it suddenly way easier. Gaining confidence, I take another step forward, and then another, each one coming faster and faster until...

"I did it!" I giggle, reaching the opposite end of the beam and jumping off, "I actually did it."

"Well done" Azriel commends, his ice-hewn face slightly broken by a small smile, "Next beam"

"Already?" I gulp, looking over my shoulder. The next beam was higher up then the first, the top of it reaching my chest. I turn back to him, gesturing to the lower one, "Can't I just do this one again?"

Azriel says nothing and I sigh, moving over to the other beam and grabbing a couple step blocks to get up to the beam. Heaving myself up and onto the beam, I wobble softly and a small, startled squeak escapes my lips before I regain my balance.

"You really will catch me, right?" I ask nervously. Again, no response omits from his lips, just a short nod of which I couldn't tell was either actually in answer to my question or instruction to get a move on.

"Okay" I breathe, closing my eyes and stilling my body completely, performing the process of engaging my core slowly, each muscle at a time until I felt so tightly wound even a sharp shove couldn't knock me from my feet.

I take a step forward...then another...and then I slip.

My foot hits the side of the beam wrong and in an effort to stay up, I attempt to pull it back on rather than letting it go and placing it behind my other foot, bending at the knees as I was taught to do and had done many times on the lower beam. I scream and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I tip backward, flailing my arms out as my back heads for the ground.

As if in slow motion, I turn my body as I fall, instinctively positioning to catch my fall with my hands - a rookie mistake. A pair of strong hands encircles my waist as I turn and without thinking I grab onto him, securing my body to his in every way possible to stop my fall. I grunt as one of my feet lands hard on the floor, ground shock again erupting through...one of my feet?

I open my eyes and find myself in the strangest position...Azriel's face was before me, his arm hooked underneath the crook of my right knee, holding the one leg up whilst the other was placed upon the floor as normal, my hips pressed against his.

"You really did fall in the most difficult way possible" Azriel says, voice deep and gravelly...as if straining.

It's then I notice Azriel's stance is crooked, his weight tipped to one side slightly as if weighed down...I gasp and almost send myself flying again as I realise what exactly I'd done in my attempt to escape a painful landing.

My knee was grazing his right wing, my left arm tightly wrapped around his neck with my elbow brushing the inside of his left wing and my right hand was placed entirely on the soft membrane of the inside of his right wing, my fingers splayed across the shimmering surface and pressing lightly onto it, the way one would place their hand on a surface to maintain balance.

Points of contact everywhere with Azriel's wings...Azriel's sensitive wings.

"Oh my...I'm so sorry" I gasp, pulling my leg out of his grasp and removing my arm from his neck, my hand from his wing, until I was standing before him. Closer than I'd ever been before, his eyes boring into mine.

"You couldn't have just fallen backward?" Azriel says, his voice still rough and strained, "I would've caught you."

"I know, I-" I stammer, "I didn't think, I just acted on instinct. I don't know what I was thinking. Are your wings okay?"

"They're fine" Azriel frowns softly, "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Feyre's told me before to be careful of your wings, to make sure I keep away from them because they're really sensitive...are they not?" I redirect as his confused frown deepens.

"They are but not in the way you seem to think" Azriel explains, "It doesn't cause me pain, which by the look on your face, I assume is what you think."

"It's not painful?" I breathe a sigh of relief, "Oh thank the forgotten gods...but if it's not a painful sensitivity, why do you seem so tense? Well, tenser."

"While it's not painful, it is still sensitive. The sensation is hard to explain but it just provokes a different...reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"It's too hard to explain. How about I show you the approximation of what it feels like to a non-winged being and then you tell me the reaction you have."

I nod, a little nervous about the slight gleam in Azriel's eyes, a knowing one...

Leaning forward, Azriel breathes softly into the shell of my ear, lips trailing sensually along the outer edge as his large hand ghosts down my spine in soft, light movements, his fingers barely touching the skin but sending shivers all the way through my body. My eyes go heavy lidded and instinctively, I grip his bicep to hold myself steady, neck tipping back slightly to expose more of my neck as his breath gusts over the sensitive skin, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back to keep me from falling on my ass. A small noise escapes from my throat.

In a lighting fast move, Azriel pulls me to rights and releases me completely, stepping a good few paces back. Breathing heavily, my eyes open and meet his and I imagine our expressions to be almost exact. Flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, chests rising and falling so agonisingly slowly as we attempt to keep our breathing even and failing completely.

"Woah" I breathe, "I definitely get it now."

"You can't do that, Y/N, damn it!" Azriel growls and I straighten further, lust filled haze vanishing.

"Do what?" I gape

"Make me-" Azriel says and then stops himself, "Never mind. Today's session is over"

He turns on his heel to leave but I run after him, meaning to grab his shoulder...and accidentally gracing the back of his wing again.

Damn it, dumbass.

Azriel releases a frustrated growl and whirls on me, pushing me back into a nearby wall, his hands on my waist, eyes staring into mine.

"That"

I was still confused. This was the only time I'd ever touched his wings...

Seeing my confused expression, Azriel presses closer, his body pressed to mine, something hard pressing into my-

Oh.

"I...I wasn't aware I" I stumble over my words, "I wasn't aware it was something I'd done more than once."

"That's a lie and you know it" Azriel huffs, "Stop feigning innocence."

"I'm not feigning anything!" I protest. I truly hadn't meant to turn him on. Now or any other time. Feyre and Nesta and Elain had all made it clear I shouldn't get into it with Azriel...Gods, even Rhys had told me to keep away!, "Why does it even matter? We're both adults, we can just move on from-"

"You don't get it, do you?" Azriel growls, "That I've wanted you every moment from when I first saw you, that Feyre and Rhys gave me this lecture about duty and responsibility and the different race bullshit and ordered me to stay away from you. The only reason I was allowed to train you is because I swore it'd be training and nothing more!"

"I'm...I don't know what to say to you except that I didn't know anything about any of that."

"I swear you're my own personal hell on Earth." Azriel sighs, shaking his head, eyes hard and cold as flint.

"Wow, thanks" I scoff sarcastically, offended, "I wasn't doing anything intentionally."

"That may be even worse" Azriel concedes, "Knowing that anything you did wasn't intentional means if you truly tried to make a move...I would fall at your feet and beg you for just a second of your time. For one moment between-I shouldn't be entertaining this idea."

No, please go on.

"It doesn't help that I can smell you every time you enter a room. It's like you specifically-"

"Wow, so now I smell?" I huff, "Perfect."

"Not that kind of smell. I can smell it on you now."

It?

Well, sure, I was sweaty but I'd just been working out. Although I'd cooled a bit now, with all the slow and steady lust-filled contact we'd had-

Oh...again.

I remember Nesta telling me once to be careful with any time I spent...with myself because the males could smell...

Could smell arousal.

"Oh" I say aloud this time, "That."

"I could swear you would touch yourself before each training session just to drive me insane with what I can't have-damn it, stop it!"

"Well I can't really help my body's reactions when you talk like that" I defend, that warm and tight feeling in my stomach building, eyelids fighting not to fall.

"Try" Azriel suggests weakly.

"If the past few weeks of my unintentional seducing you wasn't proof enough, I clearly can't do that."

"What has been with you recently? You're aroused all the time."

"I don't know" I blush, "I just...have been. Besides, it's not like I have someone I can go to here to...relieve myself of the frustration so I'm all I've got."

Azriel's jaw clenches, eyes ablaze with a hungry fire.

"Why can't we...I mean, why am I so forbidden to you?"

"Feyre and Rhys say...well, I don't know. It doesn't matter about their reasons, their my High Lord and Lady. If they order me to do something, I obey."

"Is that something you can't fight?" I ask, eyes trailing up and down his body, "Like a magical side effect stops you?"

"No, it's an honour thing-" Azriel stops short, recognising my intention, "Okay, I know you're doing this on purpose now"

"So what?" I whisper, "It's not like I'll tell them anything...and there's no one out here to witness for at least a few hours."

"Hours?" Azriel chuckles, "What makes you think you can handle that?"

Cocky now, huh?

"I'm almost certain I probably can't...but I'm more than willing to try."

Azriel's erection grows larger, pressing insistently upon my upper thigh, "Y/N...I can't"

"Yes you can" I say, "Something tells me you're just as good at getting in your own way as Feyre and Rhys are. I'm more than capable of making my own decisions and I would be lying if I said this isn't one of the fantasies I've used to help me out when I'm alone."

The sound of Azriel's teeth grinding against each other makes me smile. I don't know where this sudden confidence came from - perhaps from knowing how badly he also wants this. Maybe it was fate's way of making something that was always supposed to happen, happen. By removing my nervousness and forcing Azriel to think his way out of his own mental purgatories.

Azriel, still fighting his own mental battle, pants softly and I lean forward, trailing a long line up his neck and along his jawline with my tongue. My hand drifts up, reaching for the tender inside of his wing-

"Don't. Do. That" Azriel grits out, hand gripping my wrist and pushing it back against the wall, up above my head, the other arm quickly following, "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Who said I wasn't planning to finish?" I smirk

"Gods, you'll be the death of me" Azriel sighs, leaning closer to me. I could already tell the battle was lost, he was just clinging to the last scraps of will he had left.

"What was that you said earlier? That you would 'fall at my feet and beg for just one moment between...' What were you going to say?" I tease

"Shut the fuck up" Azriel growls, his lips pressing to mine.

Masterlist

[raggaraddy]

The Basement: part one

Anon request: Hi can I request an assassin!yoongi one shot where yoongi gets jealous over reader somehow even though I know he isolates her so she depends on him but maybe she somehow stumbles into a colleague of his in his living room or a friend and the friend is 👀 looking not so respectfully

A/N: Enjoy lovely. 💜💜💜 Part two

Summary: For the first time ever there is someone else in the house with you and Yoongi. How could Yoongi expect you to resist speaking with him.

Trigger warnings: Violence, intimidation, kidnapping, imprisonment, yandere themes.

Yoongi

Yandere! Yoongi

Assassin! Yoongi

It may only be a few hundred square meters, but this house is your entire world. You know every creak, every floorboard that squeaked, how each door closes, everything. So in the middle of the night when you are woken by an almighty thump, at once you could recognize how out of place it was.

Cautiously sneaking downstairs and peering around every bend, you are just in time to see Yoongi slamming the basement door shut behind him.

Putting your ear to the entrance, you could hear the sounds of banging, of the chains, of low spoken voices. Over and over in your head, you told yourself to ignore it. To go back to bed and let it be. But the signs that there was another person down there with Yoongi were clear, and the temptation of that was too much to bear.

Your lesser instinct winning out, you open the door, instantly coming face to face with an ascending Yoongi. And behind him, in the place where you had been chained up many times before was a hooded man. Seated on the floor in a slumped position. His hands fixed against the wall keeping them high.

"Out," Yoongi demands, shoving your shoulder lightly to push you back through the doorway.

"Who-" is all you can gape, disbelief printed on your face.

"Not your concern." He refuses, closing the door. Continuing to push you back into the kitchen. "You do not go down there. Am I clear?" A finality to his expression not allowing any room for discussion or expansion.

Nodding, with a small pout you look at the basement one last time before faking a smile and returning to bed.

You were awestricken. Not once in nearly 8 months have you seen or heard another person in this house. Also not during the 6 months stretch before that. No one had visited. Not a single person had come past the house or had even driven up the driveway by accident. Your curiosity was burning you from the inside out. Your longing to see, to speak to another human aching your very soul.

Yoongi had gone into town, leaving you alone with the unlocked basement door. You'd always been chained up if he kept you down there, so it had never needed to be locked before. And the very idea of taking a quick peek was so tantalizing. However, on the more sensible side of this debate, you knew that Yoongi's word was final and you had never disobeyed him before.

You would like to say you were smart enough for this to at least be a difficult decision. But you swiftly threw common sense to the wind and went downstairs the second you heard the car pull out of the garage. Your body buzzing as you approached the new man.

With a heavy breath and timorous movements, you pull the hood back from the man's head. Black, straight, short hair. Dark, full brows, a perfect heart-shaped face, and ears that stuck out just a little too far. From head to toe, he's largely built. Taller and wider than Yoongi, making you astounded to think about how dangerous he really was.

For a few seconds, the both of you look equally surprised to see the other. Your pulse coursing through your ears, mouth slightly agape, looking at another human for the first time in forever.

"Hi," you squeak, nothing else coming to mind.

"Who are you?" He snarls.

It's spoken with so much hostility, but that question is one that brings you so much relief. You break down, pouring out your entire story in a rampant monologue. Telling him in detail everything you could about you, Yoongi, this place and your abductions. Fully spilling all that you had been so desperate to tell.

He, however, gives you nothing in return. For nearly 10 minutes you ask him question after question and he declines them all. Not even his name slips loose. He explains once that he can't know if your working with Yoongi, or that lunatic as he called him, and he is not going to tell you a single thing. Every question afterwards is only met with a solemn stare or a shake of refusal.

"If you won't tell me anything," you mope a little, "well, you look like a James Bond character, so I'm going to call you Mr Spy. The Spy? 007. Spy-man? I'll work on it." You mutter completely senseless and giddy from this rare moment. Continuing to overshare and divulge.

"Okay, Y/N. With everything you've told me, we're on the same page. So, if you help me get out of these," he rattles his hands, "Then I can get you out of this place."

The thought is alluring. But also more than you signed up for when you came down here. Firstly, Yoongi always keeps the keys for these chains on him. But secondly and most importantly, if you attempted to escape, if you tried to leave again Yoongi would never forgive you. You can't get away from him. You know you can't. And if you tried he would lock you up and throw away the key. You couldn't- You can't.

"I'm sorry, but no. I can't." You sadly brush his offer aside. Feeling awful denying him help like that. "I have to go back up before Yoongi comes home," you mumble.

Leaning over him you bring the hood up. You need to return him to how he was. He doesn't fight or argue, seeming to somberly accept his fate, but his eyes do dart to the top of the stairs at the last second.

Reacting to his troubled expression, you spin around seeing Yoongi already home, standing at the entrance.

At once your body tightens becoming flushed with sweat. Scrambling back from the man you stand in the middle of the room, trying to keep your breathing slow and deep to hide your fright.

"I thought," He starts to lower down the stairs, punctuating each point in his sentence with an additional step. "I said. You could not. Come in here."

"I'm sorry," you hush as Yoongi snatches the hood from your hand. Your head lowering in surrender.

"You want to save her?" He turns his attention and building anger towards his new prisoner. His fists are tight, knuckles cracking as he clenches and twists them. "You want to get her out of this place?" The challenge, the hash way he spits the words spoken about you is making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Goosebumps flittering down your skin.

Lurching forward Yoongi's knee bashes into The Spy's head. And again. His foot following down booting him in the chest. And again.

"You think she wants to go with you?!" He growls, beating his fist into his head, over and over. The skin breaking, blood erupting all across his face. The Spy's restrained position not allowing him to protect himself in any way, only able to groan and splutter through the abuse. "You're too weak to even get yourself free. You think you can take her!" Yoongi steps back and lifts his leg, stomping the heel of his boot into the curled up fist of The Spy. Making him explode in a pained howl as you hear the bones crunch.

Not wanting to show any reaction, you stay coiled and fixed. Praying for this to end quickly. You had seen this level of violence and sadism from Yoongi before in the outside world. He doesn't acknowledge or accept any interference and he will only finish on his own terms.

You can't help but think if this is this how cruel and viciously he treats everyone else?

Stomping down again, this time he lines up The Spy's ankle. Throwing all his weight, all his force into the joint. The man's screams turning into cries as he wails in agony.

"No. You're not taking her anywhere." Yoongi straightens up, blowing out a heavy breath. Running his fingers back through his black hair over and over pulling it out of his face. "You're gonna tell me everything I wanna know. And then I'll finally let you die." He swallows hard, rearranging his clothes and loosening his muscles. His fiery explosion now quenched.

You can't lift your eyes as he drags you to the top floor. The basement door sealing, muffling the tears of the man below.

"Yoongi. I told him- I told him I couldn't-" You're starting and stopping, trying to sufficiently explain or plead your case. He's never shown anything near that level of violence towards you, but you were still sure he was about to lock you away endlessly for disobeying him.

He steps into you, silencing and making you jump back, smacking into the wall. Trapped between it and your hovering captor.

"I heard you." He speaks deeply and softly. In complete opposition to how he was moments ago. "Well done." His coarse pronunciation is abandoned as he speaks these words very clearly. Making sure you hear his sincerity.

His hand runs softly over your hair, stroking and cupping your head. Making you fight not to melt. Making you look up at him with big eyes. Any sort of affection from Yoongi instantly impacting you greatly, making you emotional and needy for more. Your bottom lip quivering, you whimper lowly as you lose the internal struggle and lean into his hand. Your eyes scrunching tight, hating yourself for how much his gentle touch affects your heart.

"Come with me," he holds your hand having you trail him upstairs. Taking you into his bedroom where he extends the affection and intimacy. Being with you so tenderly and kindly as your mind and heart tears back and forth between the softness you can feel now, and the horrors you saw him do before.

Despite the risks, your head fills with how and when you could see The Spy again. He was hurt, and he needed your help. And you were too eager to see him again. But when you wake the next day, you find a hefty padlock keeping the basement door sealed.

Yoongi at once reading your reaction. "You should thank me for locking that door Y/N. You don't know how dangerous some people can be."

Part two

[froggie-recs-fics]

Fic Roundup (up to 9/26/21)

I'm gonna start collecting fics I've read recently to recommend them, because making trope lists takes too long and many fics fall by the wayside. Let me know if you like this new format!

The fandoms in this list are as follows: Marvel (SamBucky, HTP, SpideyPool, WinterHawk, WinterIron, Stony, Stucky, SpiderShield), DCU (Bane/Blake), Inception (Arthur/Eames), Teen Wolf (Sterek).

A * signifies a particular favorite (though I love all these fics)

Marvel

Sam/Bucky

double back by flowermasters (E, 12K, Post-Endgame, Time Loop, Time Travel)

Sam gets stuck in a time loop. In 1943.

Things could be worse, but they could certainly be better.

Companion piece here: quick time

I'll explain everything to the geese by napricot (Post-Endgame, E, 50K, Sam can talk to birds)

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Rumlow/Bucky

**blueprints for a better world series by itallstartedwithdefenestration @astralhux (CATWS, Post-CATWS, Noncon, E, 115K, Dark Main Character)

When Pierce discovers the asset is no longer capable of getting himself hard during recreational use, he tells Rumlow to figure out what the problem is, and to fix it. The solution turns out to be more complicated than anyone expected.

I can't recommend this series enough

Peter/Wade

*Dead Men Walking series by doctorestranged @lazystrawberrymilkshakes (E, 235K, Identity Porn, Slow Burn)

When a series of murders take place, Peter Parker goes undercover in Sister Margaret’s to get intel on Tony Stark’s prime suspect: Deadpool. Peter goes in hoping to get enough information so that Spider-Man can save the day, but like everything in Peter’s life, it becomes a bit more complicated than that and it soon becomes apparent that he might not be the best fit for the job.

All About Chemistry by TwiceBakedPotato @sedatedkoala (No Powers AU, M, CNTW, 74K, Teacher-Student Relationship, Slow Build)

After serving his 20 years in the Marine Corps, Wade Wilson is cashing in his GI Bill and going back to college. He feels like the old man on campus, but that doesn't matter. He likes his classes. He likes learning. And he especially likes his Chemistry professor with the messy brown hair.

Clint/Bucky

Making Me A Habit by Kangofu_CB @kangofu-cb (No Powers AU, T, 20K, Pet Store, Slow Burn, Pining, Misunderstandings)

Bucky is a disabled vet struggling with reintegrating into civilian life. He has a routine and a rhythm, and he doesn't like to let anything - big or small - disrupt it. That all changes the day Bucky finds himself inside CATastrophe, the local pet rescue, recovering from a panic attack in the back room of the shop.

He’s used to walking by the place, not visiting, but the next thing Bucky knows, he’s hanging signs and being used as a climbing tree for a bunch of freshly-acquired kittens. And he just...keeps going back. First for the kittens, then for the disaster shop owner who rescues actual kittens from actual trees and teaches archery as a side-gig, and eventually because he’s hopelessly in love.

(Clint was in love before Bucky ever walked in the door.)

*Nameless by AvaKelly (Post-CATWS, M, 101K, Time Travel, Time Loop, Slow Burn)

A gun is pointed at him before he can even move from his position, the Soldier's metal arm steady in its aim. Clint sighs.

"Nemo," Clint says. "It's tattooed on your wrist, right here," he lifts his right hand and taps his left index finger where his palm ends.

The Soldier's eyes widen. "How do you know this?"

"I put it there."

Glitter, G-Strings and Other Mission Hazards by flawedamythyst @flawedamythyst (T, 16K, Undercover, Stripper Clint)

“Which is why you need me to shake my booty for cash,” said Clint.

“Precisely,” said Coulson. “You’re the only agent we have who wouldn’t need additional training in the skills of an exotic dancer to take on the mission, and we want to get someone in there as soon as possible.”

Clint nodded, shutting the file. “Okay, awesome. I’ll dig out my sequined g-string.”

“You’ll have full access to requisition any costumes you might need,” said Coulson.

A mission requires Bucky to be Clint's back-up as he goes undercover as a stripper, which gets more difficult with every new costume he comes out in.

Paternal Error by EVVS @skylarkevanson (Post-CATWS, T, 33K, Kid Fic, Established Relationship)

Bucky has never once thought of being a parent. Not since the Winter Solider happened.

Until he falls in love with Clint Barton. And that idiot just keeps collecting children for his flock.

Now Bucky has to pretend like he's good at parenting.

Bucky/Tony

Forms of Love by bear_bell (Post-CACW, E, 33K, Split Personalities)

Months after the Avengers' dispute in Germany, the team returns to the US and moves back into the tower. As always, everyone pretends that nothing happened. Tony is just fine with this. He's used to pretending, and he'll be damned if he lets any of them see him flinch.

Tony's the bad guy, after all. He's used to it. He's fine with it. He's good at it.

Only now, there's something far worse loitering around the tower - The Winter Soldier. No one notices the guy at first, but when they do, Tony figures that he should have the soldier's back.

Birds of a feather should flock together, and the bad guys should start a book club.

Steve/Tony

While You Were Sleeping by betheflame @betheflame (No Powers AU, M, 65K, While You Were Sleeping AU)

It's been years since Steve Grant Rogers Drysdale has spoken to his twin, Ransom. So it was quite a shock when he was summoned to a hospital and found out that Ransom was in a coma.

Even more shocking? That Ransom is engaged. To Tony Stark.

Steve/Bucky

The Road Goes Ever On And On by PipGraham (Omegaverse AU, M, Noncon, Graphic Violence, 20K, Road Trip, Pre-Serum Steve, Past Domestic Violence)

When Brock's continued domestic abuse puts not only Steve's life in danger, but also that of his unborn pup, he flees into the night with just a small backpack of clothes and almost no money to his name.

Steve quickly runs into trouble as he tries to embark on a 3-day cross-country bus journey back home to New York City.

He meets a kind veteran when he most needs a helping hand.

Just Words by LadyRazzle (crimegimp) @ladyrazzle (Pre-CATFA, Soulmate AU, T, 2K, Fluff)

Inspired by that now legendary post: "soulmate AU where you wake up on your 18th birthday with the first words your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your body so you’ll know them when you meet them." Well what if they appear the moment you turn 18, rather than just the day? And what if by the time you turn 18, you'd already fallen in love?

Bucky wasn’t eager to discover what the words said. He already knew what he wanted them to say. He always had.

Peter/Steve

Forgetting It's There by spinstitcher (stygian) (NR, 8K, Crack, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn)

“You’re Captain America,” he blurts out.

“What?” says Captain America, looking a little wide-eyed. He casts a nervous glance at the girl at the counter – he has nothing to worry about there, she’s rocking out to her iPod and could care less what they’re talking about – and says, “No, uh, Steve, it’s just, I’m Steve.”

“Right,” says Peter, and then because his brain-to-mouth filter had apparently been completely destroyed in the fight on Oscorp Tower: “Hey, your butt really is as tight as it looks on TV.”

DCU

Bane/Blake

7 Deadly Ass(as)sins by teacuphuman @teacuphuman09 (AU, E, 23K, BDSM)

Bane and Barsad own a sex shop and John needs a job.

Straws by Menirva (Bane/Blake/Barsad, AU, E, 38K, BDSM)

John works in a smoothie shop.

He has a knack, a second sense if you will, for being able to look at a person and know what they're going to order. It's not the most spectacular gift in the world but he likes being able to figure people out and he's never wrong.

Except for this scruffy asshole who is clearly just ordering the wrong thing to fuck with him.

How is he even finishing an extra-large?

Inception

Aurthur/Eames

Rough Trade by Whisky (whiskyrunner) @whiskyrunner (AU, E, 23K, Internalized Homophobia)

Arthur is an investment banker. He is professional and efficient. He's a halfway decent cook. He's totally independent and has been since the age of eighteen. Maybe he's tired all the time because he works about ninety hours a week which is twice what normal people do, but he's rich and he's competent at his job. He's almost thirty, and already a success.

And there are some things Arthur is not. For instance: Arthur is not gay.

Lucky by earlgreytea68 @earlgreytea68 (M, 37K, Kid fic)

Arthur finds a baby.

Teen Wolf

Stiles/Derek

Cut to the Bone by standinginanicedress (Omegaverse AU, E, 112K, Secret Relationship, Enemies to Lovers kinda)

“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”

The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”

Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

Cornerstone by Vendelin (Human AU, E, 83K, Marine Derek, Blind Stiles, Friends to Lovers)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach (AU, Graphic Violence, E, 76K, Captivity, Feral Derek)

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

The Payoff Pitch by Leslie_Knope (Sports AU, E, 83K, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers)

Derek is on the cusp of his second season with the LA Dodgers, and as the reigning runner-up Rookie of the Year, the pressure’s on him to become the team’s star pitcher and lead them to the playoffs for the first time in five years. He’s trying to deal with the burden of expectations and really has zero desire to spend any extra time or energy on anything that isn’t baseball.

But then he meets Stiles.

[hello-everyfandom]

“You are the one person I care for, who I love.”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Remus x Reader

Words: 1.9K

Summary: Your love language is Acts of Service 

(This is apart of my series “Love Languages”)

You weren’t dumb. Although you seemed to be quite oblivious to the classes such as muggle studies and divination, you weren’t dumb. In fact, you were smart. Smart enough to realize what Remus was. Besides being the sweetest, kindest and funniest boy, he was a werewolf. You noticed, even in First year, Remus’ frequent disappearance from classes every month. At first, you believed his excuse of visiting his sick mother and barely regarded his scars. You were happy enough to have a friend who just enjoyed sitting and talking. 

Truthfully, you didn’t mind the fact that the boy you were in love with was a werewolf. Who cares? He was more than his “monthly condition,” and though you’d never admit it to his face, it was your sole duty to ensure he felt comfortable and loved.

When the bags under his eyes became more prominent, and his flinches were more frequent, you knew that time was ticking down towards a full moon. Days leading up to it, you’d pour him a cup of coffee in the morning and butter his toast before he’d arrived. The first time you did it, Remus looked at you warily, however, the smile you gave made his worries disappear. You took note of the way Remus enjoyed his coffee. On regular days, Remus had his coffee plain and dark, but on the days before his transformation, he wanted it sweeter. You made sure to include some milk and a dash of cinnamon as you saw how he sipped slowly, eyes closed, enjoying the taste. Then, when he disappeared for a few days, you took vigorous notes in classes. You, truly, were not the type of student to find notes helpful and much-preferred listening and watching, however, Remus needed the notes to study over. 

Your hands would be stained with ink by the end of the few days and by the time Remus resurfaced with tired eyes, you would hand him the in-depth detailed notes.

“Thought I’d write you some of the things we did in class,” you said, placing them next to his plate. 

“I hope I got it all down, but if you have any questions you can ask.”

Remus looked over the notes at your splotchy and messy handwriting and felt a calming sense wash over him. You had included some of your own thoughts in the margins and doodles that showed that as much as you were bored, you were focused.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Remus put his hand on top of yours, making you blush red.

“Oh please, those notes are nothing to write home about.” you pointed to a splotch of ink, “see there? I accidentally fell asleep and the quill was pressed on the parchment.”

Remus laughed despite the ache in his ribs. “I love them nonetheless.” 

As you sat in the library, your hand in his, Remus squinted at the pages. He let out a huff of frustrated breath and put a hand on his forehead. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, putting a hand on his forearm,

“I can’t seem to focus on the bloody words,” he moaned, wiping his cheeks with his palm.

You bit the inside of your cheek and studied the way his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Come with me,” you stood and held your hand out for him. He looked at you and then at your reaching hand and took it as softly as he could. He nearly gasped as you began to pull him through the library and out into the corridor. Your pace was fast and he could barely keep up, but every few steps you’d turn back to look at him with a grin on your cheeks. 

Finally, you had pulled him up the hill that faced the Black Lake, just south of the castle. You paused, holding out a finger to him, and pulled out a blanket from your school bag. Taking off your shoes, you sat and patted on your lap.

Confusedly he asked, “What’s going on-”

“Darling, stop being a worry-wart and come sit with me,” you teased.

Remus complied and nestled his head in your warm lap, feeling the comfort from the skin of your bare thighs. “Shouldn’t we study?”

“Who said we weren’t going to study?” you pulled out your textbook, despite it being heavy you held it with one hand. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling out a small bar of chocolate. “Had this in ‘m bag, though you’d want a bit.” 

Remus hesitated, “Well I-”

“Remus, take the chocolate.” you said sternly, “you’ve a headache and sugar helps with headaches.”

He took the chocolate and popped a square in his mouth.

“Now, where had we left off?” you asked, turning the pages swiftly.

“Chapter, well I think it was... chapter... four?” Remus mumbled, his tongue tasting the bittersweetness of his favorite chocolate.

“Right! Exactly, alright,” you cleared your throat and began to read out loud.

Remus listened for a few moments, basking in your melodic voice. 

“Y/N, you really don’t need to read out loud, I’m sure I can catch up-”

You interrupted him, “Do you think this is for you?” you smiled at him, “No no, I need to read with my heart in my voice so I can fully understand, you, my dear, must listen as I stutter through the words.”

Remus chuckled and you felt the vibrations on your skin. “Alright,” he put his hands up in surrender, “read away, honey.” 

The afternoon was spent with you stuttering through difficult words and Remus correcting your pronunciation. Remus knew, though, that you were not doing this just for yourself, but for him as well. A sense of loving and compassion swelled from your chest and Remus could feel himself falling, faster than ever, for the sweet acts you gave and the kindness of your heart. 

A few days after the full moon, you anxiously searched for your love in the corridors, in classes, and in the Great Hall. When you could not find him, worry hit you like lightning bolts down your spine. You waited another day before seeking out one of his mates.

“Sirius,” you yelled through the halls, making him stop. His black hair was pulled back and he too had bags under his eyes. His sleeves were rolled up so you could see some of the scratching and bruising. Looking from his arm to his eyes, you struggled to find the words. If Sirius was like this, Remus must feel even worse. 

“Y/N,” he said cooly, “to what do I owe the lovely pleasure of being in your presence.”

“Where is Remus?” you asked instantly, making his charming grin drop. “His mother was sick and-”

“Please, Sirius, please just tell me,” you begged. Sirius scanned your worried and helpless eyes and sighed. Remus would kill him for this, but he could not ignore your frantic and anxious demeanor.  

“He’s in the dorm, but-” before you could turn to race down the corridor, Sirius caught your elbow, “He’s not doing well, Y/N. Be aware, he may be more sensitive than usual.” 

You nodded stiffly and made your way to the common room. 

The stairs up to the boy’s dormitory seemed to elongate with every step. You felt panicked and uneasy as you huffed and tried to catch your breath. Pausing before their door, you focused and tried to hear if there was any movement. You had been to his dorm before, but this time you were anxious to see Remus. 

As you knocked on the door, softly and then one harder, your breath became shaky when you heard a weak, “Come in.”

Turning the doorknob, you peered into the room and slowly drifted in. You couldn’t see as well, but the candlelit next to Remus’ bed served as a lighthouse that guided your way.

“Hey,” you said, voice soft and tender. Reaching Remus’ bed, your eyes caught one another and Remus felt nothing but dread in the pit of his stomach. 

“Y/N,” he stuttered, covering his face with his comforter, “You shouldn’t come any closer, I must have gotten what my mother had, please go back to class.” he begged, feeling desperate.You sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed, shifting your weight. 

“My love,” you whispered, attempting to pull the covers from his face, “please do not hide,”

Remus shook his head, “Y/N, go back to class, I’m begging you.”

“You know I won’t leave,” you insisted. Remus could feel the warmth from your touch, even under the blanket. An internal war played out in his head, fearing what would happen if you saw him like this. 

“Please,” you whispered again. The love of your life whimpered, but allowed his heart, his soul, you to pull the covers back.You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of your beloved. His face was scratched and red, his lip was busted and you could see a cut beginning to heal on the tip of his left eyebrow. Remus winced at your gasp. 

“Got in a fight, must have-”

You shook your head, “Remus,” your hand reached out, as slow as you could manage and while Remus flinched away at first, he let himself rest his cheek in the palm of your hand. Rubbing gentle strokes on his cheek, you gazed at him with love and affection.

“Y/N, I-” Remus dropped his eyes, “I need to tell you something.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything, my love, I already know.”

Remus thought you’d run away, terrified and screaming. The thought made him sick inside but instead, you sat there, holding his face with your hands, whispering sweet words. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” you said under your breath. 

Pulling out a few plasters, you worked as tender as you could, cleaning his wounds and placing bandages on his cuts.

“Aren’t you scared?” Remus asked timidly, his voice portrayed a lost and helpless boy.

“No,” you shook your head, “I could never be scared of you.”

You scanned him over, looking for any other wounds before asking, “Can you walk?” He nodded and began to sit up, his body betrayed him as he groaned and held onto his aching side. Immediately, you put his arm over your shoulder and helped me walk to the bathroom. 

As you ran a bath, you helped Remus take off his clothing, leaving him in his boxers. “Come, sit,” you motioned to the tub filled with warm water and bubbles. 

Again, Remus complied and lowered himself into the bath. There, you motioned for Remus to lean his head back and you began to wash his dirty hair. The feeling of your fingertips moving and brushing through his hair made Remus whimper, cowering into your touch.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you said again, “you are the one person I care for, who I love.”

Remus held your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, “I love you too. More than anything.”

Helping Remus back into a set of pajama bottoms and back into bed, Remus whimpered again, worried you would leave.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, taking off your sweater and your skirt. Getting under the covers, Remus tucked himself into your side, smelling the perfume from the crook of your neck and sighed in content. 

“Will you stay?” Remus asked,

“Of course.” You answered, honestly. Running your fingers through Remus’ tangled hair, he began to drift away in the loving of your touch. 

[therealvinelle]

What are vampires?

(Yes, I changed the title from “What is venom?” a week after publishing and after a whole set of sorry souls reblogged the post. I’m very sorry, but as I sat down to write the follow-up piece I realized that this meta is about vampires, not venom, and the title is no longer appropriate. My perfectionism got the better of me and I’m sorry.)

There’s been a lot of speculation on that in this fandom, here comes my take. It’ll split into four parts, this being part one where I look at what venom does to the human body. In part two I look at hybrids, part three I speculate on what venom is, part four I treat possible origins and raisons d’être of venom.

So, this first part is mostly me regurgitating facts. We won’t get anywhere if we’re not all agreed on what vampires are.

Also, I get very pseudo-scientific in this meta, but I have no education in biology or medicine so I could be wrong about everything. I tried to use good sources, though, so I can’t be entirely off-base.

With that out of the way, LET’S DO THIS.

To create a vampire, you infect a human with venom. This venom spreads throughout the body, altering every cell. The process is complete when the heart stops beating. If the human was injured at the time of infection, they will be healed, as long as the heart keeps beating.

Let’s go through that.

How does the venom spread?

When Bella was bitten by James, Edward was able to suck the venom out. Several minutes passed from she was bitten until Edward sucked the venom out, yet the burn was only reported to be in her hand. By contrast, anyone who’s ever had pharmaceutical administered intravenously knows that blood travels quickly. If venom travelled like any normal fluid, Bella would have said «My hand is on fire. No wait, my arm! No, wait, my torso! No, wait-» and Edward wouldn’t have been able to suck it out.

Additionally, Bella has that scar left by James. The venom had already altered the cells at the entry point.

To me, this sounds like the venom is like Pac-Man, spreading through the body by altering one cell at a time. It’s the only explanation for why it’s so slow. More on that later, though.

How does it alter the cells, and in turn the human body?

Physically, their skin is made impervious and perfectly even, their teeth are straight, razor sharp and white, their bodies impossibly strong, fast, and precise, their senses heightened to an insane degree yet they feel no pain from most physical injuries. Their digestive system is altered so they can only consume blood, preferably human blood, anything non-blood is regurgitated. They’re much more attractive than they were in life. They’re not reliant on oxygen, and their blood doesn’t circulate. They produce their own venom.

Mentally, their minds function at the capacity necessary to even utilize a body like this. They are able to process their heightened sensory input (for example, it’s the brain that interprets visual input from the eyes. For vampires to be able to see better than humans, both eye and brain have to improve), process though much faster than humans, they forget nothing, and they feel emotion and physical sensation more strongly than humans do.

Let’s go through these alterations one by one.

Skin

Frequently likened to marble, vampire skin is as hard as stone. When Bella becomes a vampire, she’s stunned Edward’s flesh now yields to her touch. Before, if she pressed her finger on him, his skin would not yield. The shapeshifters can kill vampires because their fangs are sharp enough to pierce their skin, without that advantage they couldn’t do it. No ordinary weapon could injure a vampire.

The stone skin is an armor, protecting them.

Teeth

As us humans get older, the enamel in our teeth is worn away, revealing the tooth’s underlying yellow color (the dentin). Vampires can live for thousands of years, yet their teeth remain that perfect blinding white. What changed? I see two possible explanations, one being that vampires still have enamel, and it’s too strong to ever be worn away, or they don’t have it because their teeth have been altered to the point where they don’t need a protective layer anymore, and their composition is something completely different from that of human teeth.

I think it’s the latter, as there are two other major changes reported. Their teeth have changed shape, they are now sharp enough to pierce through human or vampire skin. They’re also venomous (more on that later), able to inject anybody they bite, fellow vampires included, with venom.

There’s also the fact that vampires are changed on a molecular level, but more on that later.

Strength, speed, and precision

Meta I wrote on vampire strength disparity.

Vampires are ridiculously powerful, no upper limit (as in, «Newborn Emmett can carry 500 tonnes») is given, but whatever it is it’s high. Alice might just be the physically weakest vampire in the saga (Jane is physically smaller, but she eats properly. Alice lives on a subpar diet), but to Bella it makes no difference, Alice blows her out of the park anyway. Edward, a malnourished and not too strong vampire, is easily able to pick up entire trees by the roots, and then throw them at a small target.

As for speed, vampires move faster than the human eye can register, which according to this article means they can reach a speed of 38 146 mph! (61 390 km/h for us metric people) (Also, the traveling object used for this calculation was a ball, and the article specifies that it would be different for bigger objects. Alas I’m not going to bother my physicist friend with this, so we’re using the ball number.)

When it comes to precision, vampires exercise perfect muscle control. They’re so graceful their steps can’t be heard by humans,  Edward can famously stroke a soap bubble without popping it, and they’re able to perfectly mimic the handwriting of others (a task anyone who’s ever googled forensic calligraphy will know is next to impossible). Much of this appears to be instinctual, like a downloaded .vampire package. Knowing how to attack prey, where to bite, that all happens on autopilot. So too does running, jumping, walking (funny how their default mode, even Carlisle’s, is to walk too quietly for their designated prey to detect). Snarling, hissing, and growling are also distinctly non-human manners vampire adopt.

Senses

Heightened sight, hearing, and smell is extremely useful. It makes them much more effective hunters. The smell especially is useful here, but really, all their senses are invaluable in this. It’s great for dealing with fellow vampires as well, they can see, hear, and smell their kind coming from a far distance.

There’s an added advantage, though. As I got into here, and here, if a vampire’s memories of their human life is dull and washed out compared to their brilliant new existence, dismissing humans as equally deserving of life becomes that much easier to justify. Heightened emotions serves this same purpose, though considering their longevity I think this is another form of survival, that they’re wired not to grow bored with life (but this is really for a separate meta).

There’s also the fact that their senses have to be tuned up to 11 to fit their other enhanced abilities. There’s no use in super-speed if you can’t see where you’re going.

Vampires’ heightened senses make them more efficient predators, and help them become the bloodthirsty sociopaths we know and love.

Pain receptors, or lack thereof

Vampires feel pain when they are thirsty, when their limbs are torn off, when they are bitten by other vampires (it appears to be the venom that stings), or when subjected to a gift that induces pain (Jane, Kate). They don’t feel pain like humans do, nor do they feel discomfort (they can sit indefinitely in any position, never feeling the need to shift around.

Interestingly, it looks to me like pain serves the same function for them as it does for humans. The brain registers pain to tell us something, a biological error message. Don’t walk on that leg, it’s injured. Get your hand off the hot stove and don’t put it there again. Pain is useful.

Vampires, by contrast, are not going to get injured from someone hitting them. There are no blood vessels that can burst, no soft tissue that can burst nor bones that can break. So, no need for their brains to register that as pain. Humans need to change positions every now and then for the sake of our circulation and so we don’t develop pressure ulcers (and I’m sure there are more reasons), vampires have no circulation and, as mentioned above, their skin is armor. No pressure ulcers.

What they do need pain for, is to let them know to feed. That’s the big one, and in turn the strongest one. The pain of the thirst is unbearable, as it has to be to turn a human who was infected with venom into a killer. It’s survival. Same goes for feeling pain when their limbs are torn off, or their bodies damaged by a bite. Their pain receptors let them know to avoid this next time.

As for Jane and Kate’s gifts, this may not serve a purpose for other vampires, but it serves a purpose for Jane and Kate. It protects them. So, sucks for everyone else, but that’s what gifts do, they give the gift-haver a leg up on others.

Digestive system

Carlisle had spent many years attempting to understand our immortal anatomy; it was a difficult task, based mostly on assumption and observation. Vampire cadavers were not available for study.

His best interpretation of our life systems was that our internal workings must be microscopically porous. Though we could swallow anything, only blood was accepted by our bodies. That blood was absorbed into our muscles and provided fuel. When the fuel was depleted, our thirst intensified to encourage us to replenish our supply. Nothing besides blood seemed to move through us at all. (Midnight Sun, chapter Home)

Ignoring the horrifying fact that the context for this quote is Edward wondering if Bella’s tear could stay in his system forever, this here is extremely interesting and I agree. Partly because I can’t think of anything better, partly because Carlisle is an in-universe medical genius who’s had access to far more data than I have. He can run experiments, I can’t. Even if I came up with a theory I thought was better, if blood absorption through porous tissue is Carlisle’s best theory then there must be evidence in favor of this which I don’t have access to. So, porous tissue it most likely is.

(Also, my «Carlisle totally volunteered for vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra» theory survives that first paragraph. Vampire cadavers might not be available for study, but live ones absolutely are, you just pick them apart and put them back together after, and bring in Corin and/or Alec so the guinea pig has a good time too. There’s no way that never occurred to Aro. Even if it didn’t, it’s bound to have occurred to someone over the years, and Aro touches a lot of people. And we know he and Carlisle discussed what vampires even were, that they were best friends and all about that science.

We also know that sometimes, your weird science experiments involving dismemberment and tripping on Corin in Volterra, stay in Volterra. The tissue is porous, Edward, DON’T ASK ME HOW I KNOW.)

This has huge implications. What happened to the digestive system they used to have?

It’s still there, but non-operational.

Middle solution: it’s recognizably there, but welded shut. At some point, whatever the vampire ingests hits an untraversable boundary, and from there the blood is absorbed while any other matter remains, undigested (though possibly dissolved by venom) until regurgitated.

The vampire’s inner anatomy is unrecognizable from that of a human. Vampires have no need for livers, bowels, gall bladders, and so on, and so these organs no longer exist, or have even been replaced by other organs (assuming vampires need any, more on that later).

My vote lies with the third option, though both second and third are possible. The first one, not so much, as it means that in theory, they could force something through their system. They can’t.

More, vampires are nothing if not extremely efficient and economical organisms. They don’t need to feel pain from a physical blow, so they don’t. Why carry around these organs they’re not using?

Then there’s what they even need their digestive system to do. Humans need the nutrients in our meals not just as fuel, but as- well, everything. We need the building blocks for our cells. Our bodies are constantly renewing themselves. Vampires, by contrast, don’t appear to do this. There’s no waste of any kind, and their skin doesn’t get flaky. Edward specifically says blood is fuel, and I think that’s a literal interpretation.

Now we’re veering into speculation territory, and this isn’t the place for it just yet as we’re veering into what venom is and does, but I think whatever digestive process vampires have, serves to turn their blood to venom. I don’t think there’s any particular organ for this, I think that’s just because that’s what happens when venom comes into contact with blood. We see it happen when humans are bitten, and I think it’s fair to assume that the same thing happens when venom comes into contact with ingested blood.

This also helps explain why animal blood isn’t equal to human blood. Animals can’t be turned to vampires, it’s blood but venom and animal blood aren’t on the same FM, so to say. So, with no better option, yes venom can make do with animal blood, but it won’t perform as well as it would with human blood. The vampire is now weaker, with the frankly terrifying side effect that their eyes change color. We’re so used to this that we just go «oh, yeah, animal blood means their eyes turn yellow. It’s like a LED light letting you know which diet the vampire is on!» when in any other organism, a chance of color like that is usually the sign of something being wrong. Blue lips, yellow sclera, red urine, all color changes that point to something not being not as it should be.

Now, to go further here would mean getting more into what venom even is, which is best saved for part three. I’ll say this, venom appears to be the only fluid in the vampire body. It’s moistens their eyes (and melts their contacts), pools in their mouth, is injected through their fangs, and the application of venom to a wound makes them heal faster. Venom is the substance they rely on, more so even than blood, their elixir of life. (My speculation on how Edward was able to impregnate Bella is reserved for the hybrid/what is venom metas).

Also, on what vampires carry over from their human bodies, I do think they’re economical enough to not fix what ain’t broken. I think this because the human nervous system is absolutely brilliant, and indeed Bella regains sensation during her transformation where her spine had once been broken and unable to communicate with her brain. Question is, of course, was this because her new vampire body still uses the human nervous system, or did Bella regain sensation because her transformation had gotten to a point where this was no longer the case?

Beauty

The beauty part has gotten some very valid criticism, as beauty is very subjective and venom makes it out to be an objective, empirically measurable unit.

To caveat first, we see in canon that not all vampires are gorgeous. James was an ugly human, and so as a vampire he’s no beauty. Maggie was emaciated and not particularly attractive, so she’s bony and not hot by vampire standards. The Cullens, by contrast, were attractive humans. Human Bella is a hottie, she pulls all the guys without issue. If she were as plain as she thinks she is, she wouldn’t get male attention. Being new is only gonna get her so far. Jasper was turned because Maria thought he was a cutie, and same goes for Emmett with Rosalie.

(There’s also a certain inherent bias - I imagine attractive people have a much higher chance of getting turned than uglies.)

More, understand that vampires don’t look human. They’re flawless, desirable, perfect, yes - but they are very distinctly not human, and humans know as much instinctively:

Like any normal human, suddenly standing just a foot away from a vampire would send adrenaline racing through his veins. Fear would twist in his stomach for just a fraction of a second, and then his rational mind would take over. His brain would force him to ignore all the little discrepancies that marked me as other. His eyes would refocus and he would see nothing more than a teenage boy. I watched him come to that conclusion, that I was just a normal boy. I knew he would be wondering what his body’s strange reaction had been about. (Midnight Sun, chapter 21, page 547)

Vampires are beautiful in the way the Nefertiti bust is beautiful. It’s perfect, otherworldly, timelessly beautiful, but looking at it you know this is a bust and not a living human woman.

With that in mind, I think some of the vampire’s unnatural beauty is… not circumstantial, but happy bonuses to their other qualities. Their perfect skin, for instance, goes a long way towards making them beautiful. Perfectly smooth, a glowing white, no disruptions like blackheads, scarring, or sweat. At one point Bella describes Rosalie as looking airbrushed. Their perfect teeth, impeccable grace, these features also help.

Now, I think when venom makes a human more beautiful, I think the big thing it does is make the features perfectly symmetrical. This by itself is immediately inhuman and unnatural, more computer generated than human, just perfect enough to tick off the uncanny valley box. This would explain the flawlessness Bella keeps describing in vampires. It also explains the disparity in beauty, the features Rosalie had to work with and get symmetrical were lovelier than the ones James had, and why they can look completely different from each other yet share that same kind of uncanny impeccability. It also explains how people of wildly different face types and ethnicities can all be beautiful, the venom won’t erase the features you had but rather refine them into the best they can be.

I do think that refinement, in addition to symmetry, happens. If it didn’t, the change wouldn’t be so radical from human to vampire. More, all vampires are described as having sharp features, Esme stands out for the fact that she retained some of her human softness. So, the venom appears to make features more angular and, well, sharp.

Aro’s description is in favor of my interpretation of vampiric beauty: 

I couldn't decide if his face was beautiful or not. I suppose the features were perfect. But he was as different from the vampires beside him as they were from me. His skin was translucently white, like onionskin, and it looked just as delicate (New Moon, page 234)

His features are flawless, meaning symmetrical. He should be beautiful, so it’s the skin that gives her pause.

There’s also the matter that beauty is observed in the body, not just the form. They all look strong and limber, even the tiniest of vampires. I imagine some of this is simply texture, that vampires are made hard, smooth, and perfect, but we have this from Bella looking in the mirror after waking up a vampire:

She was fluid even in stillness, and her flawless face was pale as the moon against the frame of her dark, heavy hair. Her limbs were smooth and strong, skin glistening subtly, luminous as a pearl. (Breaking Dawn, page 261)

Fluid even in stillness, her limbs smooth and strong. This woman was starving to death when she died. Combined with the fact that Edward, who was a sick 17-year-old, has muscle definition, it seems venom does body sculpting as well. Though it’s worth noting that hydration goes a long way towards muscle definition for humans, so the change in fluid composition in vampires could have something to do with it their limber appearance.

Then there’s the other vampire beauty markers.

Their voices are described quite unusually, with words like wind chimes, bells, or feathers. They’re beautiful, but, like everything else about vampires, inhuman. When Carlisle calls Billy on the phone, Billy immediately recognized the voice as somehow wrong, it’s too clear and sharp.

I mean, I think in part this is because their vocal cords aren’t made of soft human tissue anymore, but most likely stone. No matter what they’re made of, though, it’s no surprise that we’re not getting human voices out of them.

Their scent is appetizing to humans and other vampires alike, and serves a duel purpose. Humans are attracted to them (well, vampires are too), while vampires are able to use it for tracking purposes. It’s tremendously useful for keeping track of your territory, as randos can’t walk in and eat your food and sneak off again without leaving a trail. It’s also good for meeting up with friends, we see Carlisle and Siobhan use it for this purpose in Midnight Sun.

Circulation

The purpose of blood is to carry oxygen and nutrients to the cells. Apparently, this isn’t a need vampires have. All they need is venom. The theory that their tissue is porous adds to this, as it would mean blood travels through their body in a different manner. The porous tissue replaces circulation.

So, no circulation for vampires because they don’t need it.

This meta is now getting ridiculously long, so I’m putting the venom production section in the venom meta.

The transformation

The transformation is complete when the heart stops beating. The former human is now a vampire, and no longer reliant on a heartbeat, nor oxygen. In this they are different from hybrids.

As for the process itself, I think that as the venom spreads, it starts multiplying on its own. This is why it took longer for Carlisle than it did Bella, she was bitten and injected multiple times and on every part of her body while Carlisle was grazed on the arm. Bella had more venom that could work on her, Carlisle did not. These facts support my theory of the slow spread of venom.

I’ve played with the thought of the transformation happening in stages, where the first act is the spread of the venom, which then spreads throughout the body and heals the body to put it at default, the second act is the bodysculpting, and the third act the finishing touches. It doesn’t quite fit with venom transforming as it goes, though, so I’m very hm on that.

A few observations:

Activity level doesn’t appear to help spread the venom. Carlisle exerted himself, and his transformation took far more time than normal (though lying still instead of contorting in agony probably doesn’t help in that regard). Bella laid still as a corpse, and her transformation took far less time than normal. The venom spreads in its own time, regardless of what the blood circulation is up to.

Going by the accounts of the Cullens, while the pain is constant, the transformation hurts increasingly as the venom spreads.

Bella was severely injured, and needed to be healed before she could even feel all the pain. Her broken spine, for instance, meant she couldn’t feel below the waist.

Carlisle said it’s «easier if the blood is weak» (cryptic much?! Not making it easy for me, dude. Though as this was said in the context of Edward explaining that Carlisle would only turn someone already dying, I do think he’s referring to what it’s like for vampires, though, that humans are not so tempting if they’re half dead.)

Healing

Now we’re veering into the venom meta, but: the transformation fixes anything that could impede the vampire’s function. Bella would get nothing done with her post-birth broken body, and so she’s fixed up for her. Alice’s emaciation means she’s thin and less strong than others, it doesn’t physically prevent her from doing anything.

The venom, it appears, heals the human not because it’s being altruistic, nor to make the vampire more appealing to others, but to make the human into an ideal host. BUT MORE ON THAT IN THE VENOM META.

With that, my god we’re done. And this meta is  words in total, an ugly number.

Lastly, I know that putting a read more at the end of a 4k long meta is the worst joke in the world (RIP to you poor souls scrolling past this. My reason for not being a read more kind of gal to be found here)

Nothing yet, I’m afraid.

[cafeacademia]

Promises

Draco Malfoy x Reader (smut)

Summary: Draco reunites with his best friend after the war, but when they see each other again, unsaid feelings come to the surface.

Warnings: Some angst/sadness, talk of war, lots of fluff, oral (fem rec), sex.

Word count: Approx 3600

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves! I really loved writing this one and I hope it came out well. Please let me know if Draco is too OOC, but I love playing with his softer side, especially post war. Enjoy! 💖 NOTE: Paragraphs in italics are memories

Taglist is open!

Draco lay awake, only one thing seemed to play on his mind as he allowed it to wander. It was a painful memory, one that lingered and nearly every time he closed his eyes, he saw you looking back at him with tears in your eyes. That was the last memory of you he had. And it hurt him deeply to know he’d done that to you. Of all of the things he had done in his life, hurting you was the thing he deeply regretted.

Please don’t forget me and all of the things we did.

His fingers traced over the written words, scribbled onto the back of a photograph he had given you, though now it was in his hands.

Draco sighed as he read the words over again, gently turning the photo over in his hands to see the image of you both together. He could almost feel the joy shared between you in that moment, had it not been for the pain it reminded him of. The loss that he faced.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Draco tried hard to hold his emotions in, but slowly, he was unravelling. The smart suit, the well styled hair, not a piece out of place, but it was all a front and it quickly came crashing down when the tears fell, his hands running through his hair, clinging harshly to the ashen locks, his tie feeling almost suffocating and Draco pulled at it until it was loose enough.

How could he have thrown it all away to appease someone that didn’t care for him? At least not cared for in the way he wanted to be. The way you cared for him.

It had always been secret. It had been rainy free periods you spent secretly up in a small tower room, nestled away atop a winding staircase that was tucked behind the portrait of a lady gilded in gold at Draco’s side. It had been hours spent in class, secretly trying to cast glances at one another, hoping you’d get paired together in practical studies. It was those moments in class that you had spent your time standing close to Draco, acting as if you barely knew each other beyond being classmates.

It had been those moments that you had harboured a secret of your own. A secret of your feelings towards the ashen haired Slytherin boy. It was the little touches, his fingers brushing against your hand under the table in class, it was lingering looks shared between you and uncontrollable smiles that you just couldn’t seem to calm until you looked away from him.

It was the way your heart fluttered when Draco said your name, the way he called you love and put his arm around you in that teasing manner. And you had wished it was real. That when he did those things that it was genuine, but you knew you’d never have that with Draco, so you cherished the secret friendship you had with him instead.

“We can’t see each other again, it’s the only way to keep you safe, love.” Draco told you as he held your hands in his. His stomach lurched, chest tightening with guilt for what he was doing, but he knew if he didn’t push you away, you might be pulled into the side of the war he was trying so hard to keep you away from. “Please, just come with me Draco.” You plead, tears rolling down your cheeks as you urged him to stay with you. “Please?” “You know I can’t, sweetheart.” He shook his head, trying his best not to cry, because he knew if he let his tears out, he would give in and go with you and then you really could be in danger.

“Promise you’ll find me when this is over.” You whispered, looking up at him, your eyes meeting his and he struggled to hold your gaze, seeing the hurt you held in your eyes. “I promise, love.” Draco reassured you. Before he could turn away to leave, you threw yourself into his arms, your head resting against him as you cried, your fingers slipping something into his jacket pocket. “Goodbye sweetheart.” Were the last words he spoke to you, holding you tightly before he let go, his eyes catching yours before he turned away, his heart sinking ever deeper as he left you behind.

And it was later when he pulled out the photo of the two of you together, laughing and standing close together, that Draco realised you had probably known that moment would come, else you wouldn’t have had the photo prepared to give to him with the note scrawled onto the back.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Draco internally scolded himself for having not kept his promise. The war had ended a year ago and he had yet to come and find you. And what made it all the more difficult was that he knew exactly where you were.

Would you run into his arms when you saw him? Would you reject him? Tell him you didn’t want to be around him? Truth be told, Draco had tried to uphold his promise as soon as the war had ended, but when he found you, exactly where you had told him you would be when all of this was over, Draco couldn’t quite bring himself to step back into your life.

What if you were happy without him? Granted, all you had ever been was friends, but Draco certainly couldn’t deny that maybe there was something else there too and he knew he’d never really know until he came back to you.

Sighing, Draco placed the little photo down on his nightstand and propped it up against a candle holder as his thoughts of you lingered in his mind.

Closing up shop for the day, you stepped out of the front door of your store giving Fred and George a little wave as they saw off the last of their customers. You counted yourself lucky to be able to even open your shop in Diagon Alley and even luckier to be receiving good custom and be opposite two friendly faces.

Having a rummage in your bag, you pulled out the keys, locked up your shop and took a few steps along the side of the building until you reached the entrance to the staircase that led up to your apartment above the shop. Walking up the steps, you turned and let yourself into the apartment. It wasn’t long before you had gotten yourself settled and comfortable with a warm drink and a good hearty fire started in your little wood burner.

You were lost in your evening routine when a knock at the door caught your attention and you frowned, setting your mug down on the coffee table as you got up. You hadn’t been expecting company, but you assumed that perhaps one of the Weasley twins needed something, the three of you often dropping by to borrow something or for a quick chat and a cup of tea.

But when you pulled the front door open to see your ashen haired boy, Draco Malfoy on your doorstep, you thought for a moment that you might be dreaming, because in truth, you had dreamed of this happening, of him arriving one day out of the blue and you almost didn’t believe it was real.

“Draco?” You whispered his name and he looked sheepishly at you, afraid of your reaction. You looked him over, a little stunned for a moment as he stood in your doorway. With his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, a wool jumper thrown over his button up shirt and a long black woollen coat over the top, he looked a bit more casual than when you had last seen him with slightly messy hair from the wind out in the street, cheeks a little flushed and you had to admit, it definitely suited him well.

“Hi love, is it okay that I’m here? I can go if-.” “Please don’t leave.” It came out barely above a whisper, your voice failing you as you stood under his gaze. It was a feeling you hadn’t realised you had missed, the way you felt under his eyes and despite his often brash, harsh demeanor, there was something so tender and gentle about him.

Swallowing harshly, you finally mustered up the courage to step aside and let him in, Draco slowly taking a step over the threshold and for the first time in over a year, you stood close to him again. You could feel his warmth, the edge of his coat brushing gently against you as he looked you over, soft blue eyes taking you in and he seemed to relax slightly in your presence.

There was a lingering silence and while his company was welcome and warm, the weight of all of the unspoken things you had longed to tell him almost had you bursting at the seams. You had no idea where to start, what to even say first and for a moment, Draco watched you as thoughts and emotions came to you, your eyes glistening as the swell of tears rose, your lower lip wobbling slightly as you struggled to find the words to say to him.

“Sweetheart,” He paused, about to tell you he wouldn’t stay long if his visit was causing you hurt, but before he could continue, hot, heavy tears escaped you, rolling down your cheeks and he didn’t spare a moment before tugging you into his embrace, bringing you the comfort he knew you had been reaching for, but hadn’t had the courage to take.

“I’m here, I’ve got you.” Draco’s voice was softer than you remembered, the years of pain and stress he had endured, forced to play as Voldemort’s pawn and the pressure from his family had obviously played into the boy you remembered at school, though with you he had always been gentler and kinder and while back then it had seemed uncharacteristic, now it felt natural to see him that way, Draco slowly allowing himself to be comfortable with his true nature.

“I knew you’d find me.” You sobbed against his coat, Draco’s tears falling as he almost curled over you, holding you so close, so tightly, afraid to let go of you. “I promised I would, love.” He reminded you, speaking softly against your hair as his hand gently soothed up your back to cradle your head against him. You breathed in deeply, tears slowing as his scent filled your senses, calming you a little, the gentle beat of his heart lulling you into a state of calm.

“I missed you so much.” His voice shook as he spoke, finally being able to let out everything he had held in for months of being away from you. As you whispered the words back to him, you clung to Draco, afraid to let go of him as he stood in the middle of your living room and that strange, hazy feeling of disbelief washed over you, making you feel like you might be dreaming, but every time Draco tightened his embrace or moved a little bit, it reminded you that it was very much real.

You stayed that way for a while, neither of you making moves to let go and by the time you finally parted from him, just enough to look up at the Slytherin, you had no idea how long you had been there for, holding each other, but you knew from a quick glance at the window that it had been a while as now it was dark and rain began to patter gently against the old, single paned wobbly glass windows.

Reaching up, your touch tentative as you slowly soothed your fingers over his cheek, Draco’s eyes softening as he allowed you, almost leaning into you as you took a moment to really take him in. He looked tired, but there was a vibrancy in his eyes, one you hadn’t seen in a long time and if you were to ask him, you were sure he’d tell you what he used to say when you were both at Hogwarts. “It’s because you’re here.” He’d say in a teasing manner. But maybe it really was the reason.

His jaw was lined with short, day old stubble, though it was still quite soft under your touch. Your fingers reached up, gently brushing at the hair above his ear, the pale whitened hair having grown out a little bit and to be honest, the softer, casual look suited him. Draco hummed quietly, almost involuntarily as his eyes closed at the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.

And when he opened his eyes again, gazing down at you with a look in his eyes that brought back memories, times that felt so long ago, when they had only been a couple of years ago.

“Come here,” He laughed, reaching forwards and winding his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him before he gently took your hand in his. “May I have this dance?” He asked, bowing to you, his grin widening as you giggled in delight. “You may.” You replied, giving him a playful little curtsy before he lifted your arm so you could do a little twirl.

Draco looked at you with such a loving look in his eyes and your heart paced quickly in your chest, butterflies fluttering through you as you twirled for him. You turned to face him, your hands coming up to his chest to stop yourself in your movements, but you quickly pulled away. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off you, all night he had wanted to dance with you at the ball, all night he had wanted to see you twirl in your beautiful dress and watch the way you looked up at him with that lovely gleam in your eye. He just hoped no one noticed you were both missing from the hall, having snuck you off up to your secret little tower room so he could give you the dance he wished he had been able to give you down in the hall.

The way he looked at you, the way he tugged you close and held you as if you were something truly precious made you think that Draco might kiss you, and it was at that moment that you began to realise that you were falling in love with your best friend.

Draco wished things had remained that way.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He broke the silence, the way he almost sobbed the words out broke your heart. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I left you, I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Draco teared up, the lump in his throat tightening as he reached up to brush his fingers against the back of your hand that rested on his cheek, gently holding it in both of his hands.

“It’s alright, it’s over and you’re here now, that’s all that matters Draco.” You whispered softly to him, letting him hold your hands in his and the Slytherin smiled softly at you, his shoulders relaxing a little as he took your words in. You wanted to reach up, lean into him and kiss him. You wanted to kiss Draco and show him how much he meant to you, how much you had missed him, how much you loved him, but you were scared. He’d only just come back, what if all he was looking for was his best friend and nothing more? What if he’d already moved on in the year after the war?

And while you were too shy to do it, too shy to finally admit how you felt after all of those years, Draco noticed. He noticed you deep in thought, love swirling deep in your eyes whenever you caught his gaze, the way his smile seemed to make you act all flustered and how his touch, intimate and gentle was making you lean into him.

And just like that evening of the Yule Ball, Draco pulled you close. He pulled you against his chest, your hands coming up to rest against him and before your shyness could take over and have you pull away, Draco leaned in, his lips brushing gently against yours, his eyes sliding shut as he listened to your surprised, little gasp, though you made no moves to stop him, only leaning closer into him.

Draco kissed you, his lips soft against yours as he embraced you gently, his hands resting at your lower back. Your kiss was timid at first, but as you relaxed into him, the reality of what was happening sinking in, you slowly deepened the kiss. He hummed when he felt your touch trail over his shoulders and comb through his hair until your hands met at the back of his neck, pulling yourself flush against his chest.

It was warm, Draco was warm and your stomach fluttered with butterflies, accompanied with something you could only describe as a gentle warmth that blossomed in your heart. Draco felt himself relax further, kissing you with a passionate intensity, but still so gentle and tender. Draco knew now as he kissed you, that you always had been the love of his life. He’d never find another person that knew and loved him as deeply as you did.

As you parted, Draco resting his forehead against yours, he relished in the feeling of warmth and love he shared with you. The soft crackle of the little wood burner was the only sound between the two of you, aside from your soft breaths and the sound of Draco slowly sliding his coat off his shoulders, draping it carefully over your armchair. You opened your eyes to meet his, the soft, warm glow of the fire was the only thing lighting the room as the evening drew in, but all of your focus was on Draco and all of his on you.

“Can we stay like this? Just me and you?” You asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace the two of you had created. “I’d love nothing more.” Draco replied, embracing you against him as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours.

You leaned into him, whimpering softly as Draco pressed you up against the wall, his hands wandering as he kissed you breathless. “Make me yours, Draco.” You whispered against his lips, Draco’s grip on your waist tightened at your words.

His kisses trailed down from your lips, fluttering over your neck and you gasped softly as he gently worked you up. Pulling you into his arms, Draco picked you up, laying you down on the sofa before slowly teasing you, his hands tugging at your top. He was gentle, just as gentle as you imagined as he undressed you, pulling your shirt away and carefully removing your bra, Draco looking down at you in awe as he took you in. You looked beautiful beneath him, exposed with that sweet, flustered look on your features, eyes full of adoration as you looked up at the man above you as he undressed himself.

It was hazy and warm and so loving as he took you, his gentle movements bringing you so much pleasure. His hot breath against your tender skin elicited a soft moan from you, fingers working you in soft motions as he played with you. The way he looked up at you as he pleasured you, drawing circles around your sensitive bud, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle passion melted you, your eyes rolling back as he pulled moans and soft gasps from you over and over again, his name falling from your lips as he worked you.

Sliding his hardened length into you, Draco grunted softly, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulled out and thrust back into you, pulling a sweet, airy moan from you. Draco watched you through half lidded eyes, the way you arched into him as he made love to you, your eyes meeting his with nothing but love and passion for him. His touch trailed over your body, thumb circling over your sensitive bud as he watched you. Your moans were almost hypnotic, the way you whined out his name in pleasure as he hit the spot that made you gasp.

“I’ve got you, darling, let go.” He encouraged, and you did, your release rolling through you in a warm and loving intensity. Draco thrust into you, making love to you until his high came too, the soft grunts and moans, paired with the soft muttering of your name on his lips pulled a little whimper from you.

“I’ll take care of you, love.” He whispered, noticing the sleepy look on your features. And Draco gently cleaned you both up, his kisses soft and his eyes casting a gentle gaze over you.

“I love you.” It came out as a soft whisper from his lips, warm and sweet with an air of sincerity to his words as he gently stroked your hair away from your face. “Draco,” You paused with a sweet smile on your lips as you relaxed into his touch. “I’ve always loved you.” You told him, pulling him close. “I know, sweetheart.” He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Draco had always known.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace as Draco pulled you onto him so that your head was resting on his chest, your arm thrown over his middle as he drew in a breath, a smile forming on his lips. “Of course I will, darling. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He reassured you. “I promise.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7​​ @paintballkid711​ @thesewaywardskies​ @coldlilheart​ @victorialynn​ @pandaxnienke​ @megantje123​ @loving-life-my-way​ @chaotic-fae-queen​

[hyenahunt]

Conquest - Prologue

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Translation: hyenahunt

Hiyori: But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

[Location: ES Breakroom]

[One day in late spring...]

Hiyori: "Eden Breaks Up?! The decisive battle fans have all been waiting for: Adam VS Eve —"

—Or so says this ridiculous performance plan I just received over HoldHands.

I'd greatly appreciate a detailed explanation of just what is going on. Depending on your answer, chances are I won't let you off.

Nagisa: ...Wow, Hiyori-kun, your expression is frightening.

Ibara: Aye-aye! Allow me to offer you an explanation. After all, it is my job to see to it that this incomprehensible world is dissected, cooked up and arranged for serving.

That being said, however, this appetising proposal came from the higher-ups themselves, and as such I myself am not too clear on how it came to be.

All the same, I do have some grasp of the overall outline.

Nagisa: ...I had no idea about this. While I did receive it on HoldHands, I leave all administrative matters to Ibara.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, you're pretty much the leader of both Eden and Adam, aren't you?

I do feel it would be for the best if you managed such things yourself, but well, everyone has their individual strengths and weaknesses, I suppose?

Nagisa: ...Yes. I'd rather not concern myself with the everyday world. It's troublesome.

...And having Ibara look over it results in a more accurate understanding. He's the right person for this.

Ibara: Ahahaha! Receiving such praise and trust from you is truly an honour, Your Excellency!

Nagisa: ...I simply state the truth. By the way, Jun, did you know about this proposal?

Jun: Ugh, please don't drag me into this, Nagi-senpai. Ohii-san's been in such a crazy awful mood all morning and I wanna have nothing to do with it, y'know~?

In situations like these, I'm the one who usually ends up as his stress outlet, after all —

But whatever, I guess. What'd that proposal say again...?

It sounds like something only the unit leaders receive, so there's no way an underling like myself would know anything about it, yeah~?

Nagisa: ...Ahh, it does seem like that's how it works.

...It's set up so that all messages I receive are immediately forwarded to Ibara, so it doesn't concern me, though.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, are you alright with that?

If you leave every little thing to Ibara like that — or grow dependent on him, I should say—then aren't you going to have trouble living on if he randomly drops dead one day?

Ibara: Worry not! I won't be dying any time soon — I cannot allow myself to die when we've gotten this far already!

Hiyori: Well, even if Ibara does kick the bucket, I can look after Nagisa-kun like how I used to so everything will be just fine.

Ibara: Indeed, should such a situation ever arise, I will leave him in Your Highness' capable hands.

...Anyway, to return to the topic at hand, I do believe the current proposal isn't completely devoid of points worth considering.

Hiyori: ... In what way, may I ask?

Jun: (Woah. Ohii-san's face is seeeriously scary as hell right now. He's usually all silly laughs and smiles, so when he's got a serious face on you know shit's gonna go down.)

(This time he seems kinda actually really upset about things, huh?)

Ibara: Right. Firstly, it is essential to note that this proposal is by the restructured top brass of CosPro, after the majority of its executives were fired due to the scandal at the end of last year.

They're all most eager to repair their damaged reputations — money is no object in their quest to prove their innocence and competence.

So in short, they intend to create something of great extravagance with this proposal. They'll pull out all the stops, no matter what it takes.

And since this comes right on the heels of the scandal, even the higher-ups will be careful not to attempt anything dubious behind the scenes — so everything should be safe.

Nagisa: ...Well, true fools tend to repeat the same mistakes over and over, though.

Ibara: All the same, it's common knowledge that after the last scandal, we as Eden collectively denounced and drove out the top brass.

Taking that into account, the fact that they've put out a proposal means that they're prepared to face such a situation once more.

This is a proposal of great importance—one that puts their lives on the line, if you will.

At the same time, if we were to reject this proposal, which is composed of the desperate desires of these higher-ups, they'll simply shrink away and believe anything they do or say will be pointless.

I'd greatly prefer to have some clumsy fools bumbling about their jobs rather than frightened figureheads cowering in a corner.

To be frozen in place is no different from being dead, after all. And corpses certainly can't be mobilised for war.

Simultaneously, always saying anything and everything is out of the question will never allow for growth in us humans.

...Well, such overprotective and motherly behavior seems to be a favorite of His Highness Hiyori.

Hiyori: ...In what sense? I certainly feel as though you're mocking me right now, you know?

Ibara: Of course not, I would never do such a thing... It is but a misunderstanding.

But in any case, for the sake of the top brass gaining experience, and to grant them that sense of self-confidence and achievement, I would dearly like for us to accept their proposal.

Nagisa: ...It's actually an interesting proposal, too.

...A confrontation between Adam and Eve... I've never considered such a thing before.

Jun: Well, it kinda feels like something guys would be pretty into. It's almost like pro-wrestling.

Seeing who'd win if Adam and Eve faced off... that might really catch our fans' interest, actually~

Hiyori: Ngh... A lion is still the king of beasts even if he doesn't go around proclaiming it, right?

Ibara: Certainly. That being said, a performance is essential in allowing the masses to actually understand this, as they are rather slow on the uptake.

And it is for that purpose that we now have this current plan: "Conquest".

For us of Eden, who were regrettably only the runner-ups for the idol world's greatest festival, Winter Live, at the end of last year...

Perhaps it's a rather ambitious event, to try and realise that domination that once slipped through our grasp —

That world domination, thwarted by Trickstar, or rather obstructed by traitors within our own camp.

Now is the time to see it through — that, I feel, is the current sentiment borne by the higher-ups of CosPro.

Conquer all, and we shall seize the world within our hands.

Hiyori: Well, in all honesty, I do have faint regrets that we weren't able to conquer the nation at the end of last year.

But we'd still be able to make the world ours just by doing things as we always have. Why make a show out of something so unsightly as an internal quarrel—

Ibara: That's not the case. ES has now been established, and in this new era of oligarchy between the four agencies, it'll prove difficult to stand out if we simply go about our days without aim.

If we are to use a single showpiece to launch ourselves to the top, then it is essential for it to be explosive in nature.

In that sense, I believe Conquest is the ideal plan for it. Since the earliest times, people have always been drawn to showdowns of destiny, after all.

Such as Holmes and Moriarty, Godzilla and King Ghidora, Goku and Vegeta... Would you understand those examples, Your Highness?

Jun: Oh, I totally get you.

Ibara: Good. Let's see... it would be something akin to the War of the Roses — does that make sense?

Hiyori: Mm... I can't deny that a showdown between age-old enemies would be exciting, of course.

But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

No... I consider Eden a family, but am I the only one who feels that way?

Nagisa: ......

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