#me? Actually posting fics? Who would've thought!

[shinyrockalaska]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Owl House (Cartoon), Infinity Train (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eda Clawthorne & Lilith Clawthorne Characters: Lilith Clawthorne, Eda Clawthorne, Original Train Denizen(s) (Infinity Train), Gwendolyn Clawthorne (mentioned), Dell Clawthorne (mentioned) - Character, Raine Whispers (mentioned), Amelia Hughes, Samantha | The Cat (Infinity Train), Chips the pretzel (infinity train original character) Additional Tags: Lilith Clawthorne-centric, Eda Clawthorne-centric, Infinity Train AU, Alternate Universe - Infinity Train Setting, Canon Compliant, Eda Clawthorne's Curse, Owl Beasts (The Owl House), Owl Beast Eda Clawthorne, Young Eda Clawthorne, Young Lilith Clawthorne, Young Eda Clawthorne and Lilith Clawthorne, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Pre-Canon, Sibling Bonding, The Human Realm (The Owl House), Family Issues, hex mix, Light Angst, Eda Clawthorne Needs a Hug, Lilith Clawthorne Needs a Hug, no beta we die like Lilith's and Eda's good relationship with eachother, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

When Eda discovers the portal door to the human realm she decides to drag her older sister Lilith with her, for the sake of one last adventure together. However, this time when she enters the door it leads them to a completely different world of train creatures, uniforms, and glowing numbers. With no portal door to be found, the Clawthorne sisters will have to learn some lessons and reconnect again in order to receive their exit. Easy task, if it wasn't for the effect of the curse and the approaching date of Lilith's official Coven training...

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath au: Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual. 

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…” 

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before. 

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, “Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the “Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…” 

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy. 

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question. 

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying. 

“What’s going on? 

Not going to believe what? 

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor. 

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?” 

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?” 

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes. 

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation. 

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat. 

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

[sunshineyoujustwait]

screwed around and made this a two-parter because editing was giving me a migraine and there are no rules !! (pt 2 next week)

Title: heaven’s waiting down on the tracks

Pairing: Charles Leclerc/ Max Verstappen (1/2 Chapters, 8k)

Summary:

Standing on the porch of his rented apartment, in Florida, is Charles Leclerc. He looks- well no one’s ever said Charles Leclerc looks bad- but he doesn’t look great. Shadows under his eyes stark against the bright Florida sunshine. Max’s brain snags on the small details; the two-day stubble scattered across his jaw, the carefully unbranded navy t-shirt, similarly bland cap pulled low over his features. "What-" Max starts, because seriously- what the fuck. Charles cuts him off before he can finish. "Do you want to drive to Daytona?" OR: Max and Charles and the Great American Road Trip, inspired by my undying love for racing, driving west, and the corkscrew at Laguna Seca.  

Read here on AO3

[camellcat]

WTFFF I thought thirteen would be my new girl crush love of my life heart eyes wife you-came-after-twelve-you-must-be-better-than-they're-all-saying bbygirl and then I had to sit down and watch as she told a man who (if he were not a murderer, of course) literally every regeneration before her would've LOVED and FULLY SUPPORTED that "the systems aren't the problem. how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" </33333 !?!?

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color.  You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly.  You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

[praisethegabs]

OLDER

leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.

warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon

word count: 15k

a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️

I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS

Life can be a bitch sometimes.

This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude. 

But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him. 

The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become. 

There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there. 

But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back… 

His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?

Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home. 

Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t. 

It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him. 

After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you. 

Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities. 

After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival. 

II. RINSE AND REPEAT

He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost. 

Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.

At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.

This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.

Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it. 

Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life. 

After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day. 

After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.

Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused. 

“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.

“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him. 

“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."

"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.

“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity. 

“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.

“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.

“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.

“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.

“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.

“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise. 

“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual. 

At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you. 

“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile. 

“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little. 

“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”

“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”

“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”

“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.

“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand. 

Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market. 

His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality. 

However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast? 

“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi” 

“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”

“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words. 

“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…” 

“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings. 

“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.

“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings. 

“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves. 

“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again. 

"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity. 

“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense. 

“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time. 

“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings. 

“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it. 

“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments. 

“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase. 

“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity. 

“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier” 

“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood. 

“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise. 

“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips. 

“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips. 

The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself. 

He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life. 

Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks. 

What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong? 

His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!

The future is a hell that’s only getting worse. 

III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING

You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.

However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else. 

After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.

“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning. 

“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up” 

“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again. 

“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?” 

“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him. 

“Of course. At seven?” 

“At seven, it is,” you smiled again. 

As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend? 

Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions. 

Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other. 

Betrayal is the word that defines Leon. 

He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go. 

Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy. 

At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought. 

“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you. 

“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”

“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks. 

"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines. 

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place. 

You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends. 

“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity. 

“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses. 

“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad. 

Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this. 

“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken… what happened to your neck?”

Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew. 

“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past. 

“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage. 

“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine” 

“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek. 

Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it. 

“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk” 

Leon was reaching his breaking point. 

He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are. 

“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t” 

When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane. 

“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go” 

After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while. 

However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again. 

June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA

“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.

Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him. 

“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess” 

He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality. 

“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!” 

The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone. 

“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.

He pulls the trigger. 

And there’s only blood. 

He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you. 

“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home” 

“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be. 

“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips. 

“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude” 

“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well. 

“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly. 

You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice. 

He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent. 

“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs. 

“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his. 

IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN 

The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that. 

The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.

Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in. 

The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night. 

Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.

Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–

“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."

Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.

"Target approaching."

As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.

"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise. 

The Porsche approached the garage. 

"GO," Leon said sharply. 

At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat. 

Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded. 

A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.

Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him. 

Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up. 

There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.

He feels paralyzed. 

It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring. 

It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands. 

“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness. 

Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before. 

“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone” 

“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd. 

You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock. 

“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention. 

“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly. 

“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time” 

You saw him reach the breaking point. 

Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.

After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this. 

But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life. 

“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead” 

“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words. 

“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin. 

“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down. 

“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack. 

“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope. 

Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows. 

“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently. 

Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe. 

“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair. 

“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on. 

“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again. 

“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know. 

“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again. 

“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room. 

“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life” 

The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed. 

“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."

No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode. 

“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone” 

After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one. 

Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.  

“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast” 

“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet. 

“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?” 

“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night” 

“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do” 

“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell” 

You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space. 

“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast. 

“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago. 

“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it” 

Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine. 

Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him. 

You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet. 

“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot” 

“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.  

“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers. 

“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.  

“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore” 

“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully. 

Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease. 

“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation. 

“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation. 

“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen. 

“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them. 

Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations. 

“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense. 

“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile. 

When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?

He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination. 

“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.

“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.  

Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life. 

“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before. 

“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags. 

“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”

He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again. 

“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone” 

“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness. 

But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye. 

“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags. 

The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.

Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger. 

“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this” 

V. ACCEPTANCE 

After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.  

You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise. 

It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.

“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel. 

“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity. 

“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college” 

“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours. 

“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers. 

“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that” 

“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers. 

“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling. 

“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you” 

Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do. 

“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday” 

“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box. 

He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you. 

“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you. 

“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it. 

“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly. 

“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it” 

“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…” 

“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence. 

“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that. 

“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him. 

“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma. 

You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way. 

“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs. 

“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things” 

“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?” 

Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this. 

“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive” 

While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls. 

“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath. 

“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault” 

Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top. 

Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.

"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.

"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.

Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.

"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.

"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.

Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression. 

"I'm on vacation." 

"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.

"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.

"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.

"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.

"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.

Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.

"Cancel the beer."

"No, it's not canceled."

“Come on… what the fuck?!”

"I don't need any more alcohol."

"Cut it out. What's going on?"

"That's my line."

The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.

"You–!" Chris leaned forward.

"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.

Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.

"...What's the situation?" he asked.

Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues, 

"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization." 

The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice. 

"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess," 

Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.

"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"

"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.

"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."

With a hesitant tone, Leon continues

“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."

Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power. 

"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.

"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.

Tension fills the air between them once again.

"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."

"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.

They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.

"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies. 

"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues. 

"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."

Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.

"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.

"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.

Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student. 

"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."

As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.

"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."

Rebecca glances lightly at Leon. 

"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."

Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.

"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."

Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table. 

"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."

"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.

"What?" Leon asks, confused.

"It seems like you're misunderstanding, BSAA soldier," Rebecca lightly dismisses Chris's assumption.

There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that. 

"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.

Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.

"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.

She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.

"She's a great woman," Leon comments.

"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile. 

And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago. 

"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.

"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response. 

"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..." 

Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.

"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."

Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence. 

"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.

"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”

"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.

“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."

Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.

"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."

He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain. 

Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."

Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head. 

“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up. 

“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes. 

“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek. 

“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy. 

“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you. 

“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep. 

Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him. 

Before you, Leon was ready to die. 

He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed. 

But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you. 

It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine. 

The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton. 

"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."

The merged form kicked out.

The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.

Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.

"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.

"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.

In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way. 

Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.

Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.

What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…

VI. ABSOLUTION

When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed. 

After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back. 

“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room. 

“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you. 

“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles. 

“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job. 

“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity. 

“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…” 

“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you” 

Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.

“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears. 

“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.

“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead. 

After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents. 

“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home. 

“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him. 

“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.

You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you. 

“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations. 

“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red. 

“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon. 

“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…” 

“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips. 

Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love. 

“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room. 

“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody. 

“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “

“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck. 

“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin. 

“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you. 

The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too. 

“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck. 

“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear. 

He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you. 

“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest. 

You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful. 

Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you. 

“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears. 

Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already. 

However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that. 

When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone. 

Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again. 

“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck. 

“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly. 

“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck. 

“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him. 

After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.

And he’s fine with that. 

[kinardsevan]

i wrote a whole ass psychology breakdown (for the first time in FOREVER) about the break-up. enjoy (if you so choose):

so I've been reading a lot in relation to Tommy's speech during the break-up (and have actually gotten through the scene several times now, mostly as a creative reference for these fix-it fics. I think one of the first things that I've seen completely tossed aside (that bothers the shit out of me as someone with over a decade of therapy treatment and a psychology degree) is whatever trauma Tommy carries.

We know that there are issues with his dad. We know Lou's lore behind him is that he spent a lot of his childhood alone. We don't know anything in relation to his mom, but she may or may not be the cause of more trauma. We know that his way of dealing with abuse of authority is to shut down and follow the leader, which is likely a mix of his military time and growing up in his father's household (and when I say this, I mean from what we saw of him under Gerrard's command). This is a person who has put years into getting himself into some version of okay after all that he's endured, and we know he still generally does it on his own.

To that end, here, have my breakdown of the break up (roughly right about the time Buck says "I want you to move in with me"). (with pictures!)

Prior to the offer, we watch Tommy process through Evan's explanation about his relationship with Abby, things being transformative for him, etc. We have to bare in mind that this is where we also start to get what I've dubbed "starry-eyed Buck". He's so in the throes of what he's saying that I don't think he's really considering the connotation of his words. At the same time, Tommy doesn't know what lore Evan is about to drop him about this prior relationship. Remember that he now has to contend with the fact that they both have strong opinions on their relations toward Abby, and Tommy can't know if their feelings toward her as a person will be the same. I think Lou played this beautifully, appearing anxious and apprehensive as Tommy listened to Evan explain that Abby was transformative for him. Then he shifts into how Tommy has been transformative for him (which, he has, and we as the audience know this, but we understand it from a bigger POV than what Evan is saying with his words.)

There have been posts about Evan putting Tommy up on a pedestal throughout this speech (and really, possibly even sooner, but this is where we really get it expressed). Tommy tries to rectify this to a degree by countering "I wasn't always that way".

To that end, we then get Evan telling him "I know, and it just makes me admire you more." Tommy gives a bashful smile, clearly heartened by the statement, and even opening his mouth as though he's going to respond to it in some form. It would be interesting to know what was on Lou's mind of what (if anything) he thought would've been said there. Are there lines that were removed in this scene? Was 'I love you' actually going to come up? We can't really know. However, there's this part of me that thinks that Tommy thought that they were having a discussion on the depth of their relationship which would've possibly brought those 7 letters to the equation. Either way, this entire bit of facial acting is SO important, because it speaks volumes about how Tommy feels about how Evan feels about him.

From there we get the "I want you to move in with me, and this, THIS, THIS is such an important point for this ENTIRE scene. It's two seconds, but it holds SO much for the narrative. This man, who seems to be on the verge of ...something, clearly (who knows if I Love You was on his mind, or if it was just the fact that Evan was expressing how much he cares about him.) The reason this is all so important is THIS REACTION:

Now again, we don't know Tommy's trauma, but the joy literally drops out of his expression and shifts to panic. Now, speaking solely from the standpoint that these two haven't even said "I love you" yet, his boyfriend steamrolled over him from a possible declaration of love straight to moving in together without discussing semantics. Further, it's not even "I want to live together", it's "move in with me". We don't know much about Tommy's house (because these shitheads haven't built him a set yet), but we know that he has a HOUSE. With a GARAGE. Buck lives in a LOFT. Regardless of how much of an asshole this makes me sound like, it's crawling with red flags. It comes across as "fit more into my life" instead of "lets do this thing together". Further, if that's not bad enough, mention of getting engaged and married is thrown at Tommy as well, which holds two major bits of information: One, these are on Evan's mind. We've NEVER heard him talk about getting engaged or married to anyone. This speaks to the importance of their relationship to him, but the lack of I Love You also speaks on his own trauma. If we truly are getting the rom-com trope, at some point there's likely to be a conversation about why he lept over it (*cough* Taylor, his parents *cough cough*). Meanwhile, as he's continued in his starry-eyed speech, this is what Tommy is giving:

Now for those who don't know how to spot it, this my friends is a PANIC RESPONSE. The shift forward, the move to get up, the literal deep breath. He's having a panic attack. Now, obviously we don't know what brought this on, but god-willing, we WILL get the answers.

Now, to his own point, Tommy doesn't just straight up pop Evan's pink bubble. He does express that it's a sweet sentiment, but that it's a bad idea. To which point we get:

"Evan, that is so sweet. But I can't move in with you." "And why not?" Because. I know how this ends." "Uh, what-what's that supposed to mean?"

At which point, we clearly get the qualities about Evan that Tommy likes. "Incredible guy. Big-hearted. Hot as hell. Impulsive." I don't feel that the expression here matters as much as his tone of voice, because we can see on his face that he's expressing these qualities from a good place. The next point of reference isn't until Tommy's next line, when he says that Evan's reaction is out of things being "new and exciting".

To that end, the way Evan is talking to him makes this statement valid. He's not talking to Tommy like they've been together for six months and have built a relationship that should be moving in this direction. (For the tenth time I will repeat, he couldn't even dignify whether he was in love with Tommy when Josh asked).

Furthermore, I think when you consider this part of the scene, you also have to consider the strain in Tommy's voice. Something about those concepts (living together, getting engaged, married) is terrifying. It definitely gives the impression that Tommy has been faced with some version of this before and he got burned. Why is this important? Because of this:

"I'm saying no matter how bad I want it to be, I'm not your last." Those 9 words are important on their own, but when you couple them with the expression on Tommy's face and what we've just seen him go through, there's a clear point to the fact that he's been through this before. I also think that there can't be enough importance placed on the way he intonates "how bad". This is not a man saying no because he doesn't want to. He's backpedaling because he's sure that he's going to get burned. We get this point further driven home with this exchange:

"I'm your first." "But hey, they can be the same thing." "But, they usually aren't."

See this doesn't read to me as someone who's scared because he knows Evan has never been with another man. They're both fully grown adults who have had multiple relationships. What this speaks to me (now) as, is someone who has let someone convince him before that he would be their forever, that they were all in, and then broke him. When you include his childhood trauma and whatever abandonment issues it's left him with in correlation with all of this, yes, it's still an extremely biphobic set of lines. But in the context of what he's expressing and why, it's not about telling Evan he needs more experience, it's about telling him that he doesn't believe that he'll want to stay settled down with him six months, a year, etc., down the road. And THAT my friends, is abandonment issues 101. "Everyone else has left, so it doesn't matter that I'm in love with you, because you will leave too, and I need to protect myself from that."

Following that, we get this: "if I were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it, but you'd end up breaking my heart."

This line is SO important, right next to Evan's exchange with Josh about his relationship with Tommy. Why? Because even though neither of them have said it, it spells out that these two are in fact in love with each other, even if they haven't said it.

"I don't think I could deal with that." Tommy is fucking GONE on him. He's expressing that if he gave himself fully over to what Evan's referring to, losing him would break him. Again, we don't have the full picture on his trauma, but we know there's a mountain there. It's also worth noting again, that the intonation he uses in these statements clearly come across as someone trying to reign in their emotions and keep it together. That says to me that we're dangeously close to touching his trauma.

I don't feel like I have to include the final few bits of the scene in gifs because they're all over the site now, but the next line gives over the fact that he hasn't really been open about his trauma to Evan, given that his immediate response to expressing all of this is "I should go". This kind of reaction is generally brought on as not being accepted for having certain feelings. Now, obviously Evan is caught off guard by the entire interaction, the same way Tommy was (but for different reasons), so we have to take all of that into account when we think about the fact that instead of countering Tommy's logic, he asks instead if Tommy is breaking up with him.

Body language is also so important here for Tommy. His shoulders are hunched in, we see him wipe his face (meaning there are likely tears), and when he turns around, he's so caught up in whatever wave has taken him over that it takes Evan asking him for Tommy to state "yeah, I guess I did" about breaking up. Further, there's the fact that he states that he didn't see the break-up coming, which goes back to my point at the top of this post, that he clearly thought the conversation was going one direction, and instead it goes the other. From this point, we have Evan reeling, because he wants to create more of a life with Tommy, while Tommy is shutting down because of whatever is holding him back.

Finally, as I've referenced before, we get this line:

"Should've known that parking spot was too good to be true."

That line makes zero sense out of context, but in consideration of someone trying to lighten the weight they're carrying (which you can literally see by the way he has his hand on his neck, which you generally only see people do as a stress response). You can also double entendre this statement that getting to be with Evan was too good to be true. We get that little inhale with the smile, and I swear to God the only time I've seen that kind of reaction is right before someone cracks.

And then in closing, we get the "I'll see you 'round, Buck," our closing gut punch. Evan is still reeling, clearly. His face is very "what the hell just happened". Tommy is clearly not okay. This entire scene has opened an entire can of worms on them without a whole lot of answers.

Now, I've owned the fact that basically from the end of 806, I felt like this had to be a swerve, and that there has to be more to the story. I've also pretty much owned the fact that if the writers did actually just do this for kicks and don't have a resolution for it, I may not keep watching. However, in the context of the fact that, for the moment, I'm choosing to put hope in some kind of resolution, these lines make so much more sense. It is worth noting though, most people in the fandom, let alone the general audience, aren't going to psychologically break this shit down line-by-line. They're not going to lean into whatever trauma Tommy has that we don't know about yet. Its why the internet has been a mess since Thursday night. But it's also why I talk about how, when this situation gets resolved (because right now I refuse to say if), Buck has to give up the loft and give more of himself. Tommy, by the nature of the show, has fully immersed himself in Evan's life, but we haven't seen or heard mention of Evan doing so at all in Tommy's life. That doesn't mean he hasn't, but we haven't gotten any version of that. So when I say Evan needs to give things up... it's about matching what he's asking Tommy to give up. Because at the end of the day, when this circles back around, he's effectively going to be asking Tommy to trust that he won't break his heart like others have, and when you have a lifetime of abandonment issues and have learned to cope by being hyper-independent and alone, moving in the opposite direction is more terrifying than anything else. ESPECIALLY when you love that person, which we saw Tommy spell out. Evan has the ability to break him (and probably already is via this cut-off-at-the-quick break up.)

So, I'm really gonna need these shit heads to figure out that they'll be more miserable apart than they'd ever be together.

That's all. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[jaylver]

THE FIVE YEAR DEAL — P.JS

synopsis: having to deal with a four year long situationship was hard enough in the first place, but when your favourite situationship texted you on a random night after a year of no contact, it was a much harder scenario than imagined. what happens when he brings up that old pact you made about getting married in 5 years and you start rekindling a relationship that was lost?

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: ex-situationship to friends to lovers, second chance romance, angst, romance, pining

warning(s): profanities, drinking and partying, slight violence

wc: 6.5k

a/n: after a month of not posting, here's a very very belated jay fic that was meant to be for his birthday (scream). please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Park Jong Seong was your roman empire. There, you actually said it.

He was a thought that constantly hovered in your mind from time to time. Whether he was a ghost that lingered to haunt you or a sweet thought that remained, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that he had changed your life for the better and the worst.

A lesson you'd often tell others is to never get yourself involved in a situationship, worse if it's with your best friend. Unfortunately, you were speaking from experience which involved Jay, your ex situationship slash best friend. Look how you and him eventually turned out.

An almost four year long situationship with Jay that took an absolute toll on you had ended the year before. You agreed on no contact with him after, trying to create a peaceful life without him out of your life, yet it was entirely impossible when you shared mutual friends that reminded you of your good times with him even though he wasn't around. 

You hate to admit it, but losing a person who was your best friend cut deep into your gut and heart combined. It was, at least, for the better. That was something your friends told you that you gradually recited in your head. It wasn't very effective, however. You still thought about him, quite often actually. But you supposed that was the haunting and painful part of having a relationship with someone that was almost a lover but never became one. 

It was the same exact night you were thinking about him when a text appeared on the homescreen of your phone. You stared at the notification for God knows how long, debating if your lack of sleep was finally catching up to you. The contact name was unmistakable, there it was, Jay's text. Jay, your Jay? 

The strength you had trying to act casual, but in reality, you were dying internally. The hold that man has on you was unimaginable. 

jjong: you up?

you: ?

jjong: did you delete my number?

If only he knew, he would've probably laughed. You never deleted his number, nor did you even change his contact name. His name constantly stuck out in the list of contacts, just like the memories of him in your head.

you: no, i didn't. what i meant was why are you texting me at 2 am?

jjong: i thought of something, something we said four years ago

you: okay …?

jjong: you said if we're both still  single in five years, we should get married

you: you took that seriously?

jjong: should i not have?

you: dumbass, i was tipsy

jjong: you didn't say that when i brought it up after you were sober

you: it's stupid

jjong: it's not. come on, y/n, can we please start afresh? i miss you.

He missed you?  

jjong: i'm serious. can we please meet up?

you: you swear you're not going to pull something?

jjong: no?? the most i'll do is pull out an engagement ring but who knows

you: cut the crap, jay 

jjong: don't act like that didn't make you giggle even the slightest

jjong: meet me downtown. the usual place we go to :)

How could he act so nonchalant when bringing up the past? The usual place that you haven't been to after cutting contact with him was something he still recalled, but to you, it was a place you avoided up until now. 

It was hard to sleep when your mind was filled with thoughts of him, except this time, instead of missing him, you dreaded him and the part where you're going to meet him for the first time in a year. What was he going to say? 

The wish you wished upon the lone star that night was for Jay to finally set his feelings and emotions clear. But whether it will come true or not, the truth will soon befall on you.

The day you planned to meet Jay was a cloudy one. It was likely a foreshadow, but you chose to ignore the overthinking you constantly did.

You were the first one there in the cafe, specifically sitting at that table by the corner which you and Jay usually hogged. Being there early due to mostly the anxiety, you got to calm your nerves down and prepare yourself to face Jay. 

It shouldn't be hard to meet someone you already knew, but why did it feel that way? The unspoken feelings and those that were left hanging, unaddressed, was what haunted the both of you. You supposed this meet up with him would hopefully change that the slightest bit. All you hoped for was that he didn't become a stranger to you.

You failed to realise his approaching figure as you were sitting with your back facing the entrance, it was your usual spot anyway. Not to mention, his footsteps were quiet as ever, a thing about him that was unchanging. 

"Y/N," you heard his voice before meeting his eyes, watching as he slipped onto the chair opposite of you, the warm aura of his never failing to provide a sense of comfort for you. "Hey,"

The change of his hair colour grabbed your attention first. The silvery colour that the light bounced on suited him well. He always wanted to experiment with his hair, and you didn't expect him to really do it. Other than that, he had the same features, same smile, same warm colour tone eyes and skin. All in all, he was the Jay you knew, the one you loved.  

"Jay," you spoke his name as if it was a foreign taste on your tongue. His irises flashed an unreadable spark at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You fell into silence, not knowing how to start the conversation whereas he seemed rather speechless instead. 

He shook himself out of it, a slight frown etched onto his lips. "Thanks for making time to see me. I know … you probably didn't want to, so I'm glad you came," his tone contradicted the way his texts sounded, the initial confidence was currently wavering.

"It's no problem," you shook your head softly, a secret hope you had kept shouting in your mind where he would fix everything. 

"I didn't want to leave us at that, Y/N," his sudden confession surprised you, but it left your heart beating in both anticipation and anxiety. "The way we left things, it wasn't right. I wasn't right for doing the things I did,"

You knew what he was talking about, or at least the obvious one out of the bunch. That night at his place where you were tipsy and he was holding you in his arms, you accidentally let out the secret you've been holding in: you loved him. As expected, it obviously strained the relationship as he insisted on it being nothing serious. You were stupid for thinking he would've reciprocated it, but all he did was leave you stranded on the empty space of heartbreak alone. 

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole, and I was an idiot for not realising how much you meant to me until you weren't there next to me. You carved a hole in my life and my heart was moulded for you," his gaze fell to the table, an audible draw of breath from him. 

Jay glanced up to lock his eyes with yours again, the twitch of his hand that was holding itself back from reaching over to you. "I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but every night I prayed for God to lead me back to you," he swallowed thickly, "I know I fucked up, that's why we stopped … everything. I deserved it, but I really want to fix everything,"

You opened your mouth to speak just to close it after a passing second. He said exactly what you wished for him to say, but why was it so hard grasping everything before you? Was it the shock? 

"I missed you, Jay," it was the truth, an angering truth that you held onto for ages. "I really did. I think about you a lot and the mistakes we made. I wish we could go back to the way we were. You're my best friend," you knew that word wasn't just what it was, it held something more than that. "And I just want you back,"

The softening of his gaze only exposed the vulnerability on your face. "Can we start again?" He said quietly, seemingly testing the waters. "As friends, and we'll go slow,"

"I'd like that," you nodded, never leaving his gaze. You didn't say it, neither did he, but you weren't putting away the chances of something more than just friends, an unspoken hope that you kept. Maybe this time, everything would turn out right. 

Before you parted ways with Jay and left for home, you shared a simple conversation in front of the cafe. Just like old times, the conversation flowed naturally as if time didn't separated the two of you in the first place. 

"Can I hug you?" 

For the first time in many months, you felt the warmth and touch of Jay's that you missed. It was familiar, comforting, a band aid that covered the crack on your heart. This was the first step to heal that broken heart of yours. Closure. It was for the better. 

The rest of your day was only filled with thoughts of him, till the point where it had you lying in bed, awake and turning, wondering about the fate of you and him. A second chance was about to make or break everything.

The next time you saw Jay again was at a party his frat brother held. 

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn't stop texting Jay. You realised at one point that you had fallen back into your old self once more. Giggling at his messages, anticipating his notifications, calling him at odd hours. All of which didn't go unnoticed by you, and you wondered if you should be horrified or nonchalant. Given that you and him were on better, speaking terms now, you brushed it off as nothing.

"Well, isn't it my favourite girl," Jay had his arms wide open the moment he approached you, that smile of his glowing from a distance away. 

You smiled back, you always did anyway, letting him embrace you into his arms. "You smell like beer," you scrunch your nose up in distaste, pushing yourself off of him, but your arms around his shoulders remain.

"But I'm sober," he casted a wink at you, ignoring your eye roll as he took your arm from your shoulder and slid his fingers into your hand. "Come on, the guys are over there,"

To think about explaining this to the rest of your friends was going to be interesting to say the least. They already knew from your continuous text screaming for bloody help, but for them to witness it in person? You couldn't help but wish to cower into a corner out of embarrassment.

Heeseung was the first to raise a discreet eyebrow at you when you approached, hands intertwined with Jay, the same guy you swore you cut contacts with. That's a lie, apparently. Jake and Sunghoon seemed impassive, but you could tell from their several exchanges of glances, they thought the same as Heeseung did. However, both you and Jay were their friends, and no matter how messy it was, they were just the people stuck in between.

Jay eventually excused himself from the conversation to get more drinks for himself. You had a feeling he was about to be drunk by the end of the night no matter how he denied that. You knew his patterns through and through. Once he was out of ear shot, the boys turned to stare at you accusingly.

"Did you guys kiss?" Jake was the first to be blunt. The other two were eager to know the truth as well.

You practically jumped in your seat, as if a bullet had shot through your chest. In that way, his zero filtered question had that effect. "What? No! We agreed on being just friends,"

"For now," Heeseung chimed in.

"What?"

"You were literally holding hands with him," 

"It's platonic,"

"Considering your past with him, I think that's the last thing you can claim as platonic when it comes to Jay," Heeseung quipped back, making a valid point that you chose to ignore.

"Whatever. We're currently friends and we're not rushing into anything. We don't want to ruin it," you rubbed your arm uneasily, the thought of your past recurring saddened you. 

"Then when are you going to actually get together?" Sunghoon asked, sounding rather exasperated as though he's the one in your position. At one point, you wished you could trade places. 

"Ask him that," you leaned your head onto Jake's shoulder for emotional support, the question from Sunghoon was a second bullet to your heart. You had been the one sending signals from the start, but when it came to Jay reciprocating it, it was rather bleak.

"You're still hung over him? It never … went away?" Heeseung leaned his body closer, increasingly immersed into the conversation deeper.

"How could it go away when I've always been in love with him?"

The words stuck to you throughout the night. The truth and reality of you loving a man that threw everything away was a burden you carried. The egging thought of wondering if Jay even reciprocated the feelings after a year crept into your head. He didn't reach out to reconnect for nothing, did he?

Just as you've guessed, Jay was truly drunk out of his mind by the time the party was ending. Your friends were trying their best to haul Jay into his apartment while you trailed behind, wishing you were more of help than this. Jay was eventually dumped onto his bed, slurring out random sentences that made zero sense to you.

"Do you need me to drop you back? I didn't drink," Heeseung turned to you first once all of you stepped out of Jay's room. 

"I'll be fine. I didn't drink much, so I think I can drive myself back. I also want to stay a while more to make sure he's fine," you took a glance back at the open bedroom door, seeing Jay still awake and turning uncomfortably. 

"Will you be okay? I mean, you just started talking again, I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Heeseung placed an assuring hand on your shoulder, concern filled eyes boring into yours. You hadn't even thought about this before, the emotions you had whenever with Jay. 

You smiled at your friend. "It's Jay. I will never feel that way about him,"

Heeseung reciprocated your smile, seemingly more relieved. "I know."

Your friends soon left, the loud sounds of their drunken chatters faded into the night, leaving you in a deafening silence. A deep intake of breath was what helped you regain your confidence back to finally step into Jay's room, facing a dazed looking Jay who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He seemed a tad bit more sober from the multiple cups of water he had drunk. 

"Are you alright?" You took a few steps forward, holding onto the doorframe.

He glanced up, the dim light provided by his desk lamp illuminated his face, the sharpness of his features contrasted the tears he had swimming in his eyes. It was unmistakable, but it weighed you down onto the ground, not knowing if you should be taking another step. 

"Jay?" You called out cautiously, swallowing thickly. A quiet sob broke the short silence which followed, the glistening tears made their way down his cheeks. It was your first time seeing him as vulnerable as this.

You got to his side, knelt on the ground, trying to search for his gaze which persisted to run away from yours. He tried hiding his face behind his hands, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto them tightly. It was then he was forced to finally meet your eyes. 

"I'm sorry," you heard his weak voice utter out, his hand that you held onto gripped yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully.

It was your first time witnessing him this broken, crying nonstop and leaving his emotions out on display. For the first time in ages, you couldn't properly read him like you've always done. Was it your fault for making him feel this way? Was there nothing but pain in this so-called relationship you and him shared?

"I miss you," it was a confession, a painful sounding confession that he's held onto for a long time, the look in his eyes told you he meant it, but there was something else that he had: grief. "I'm sorry,"

You didn't know how long it was that you stared at him for, the thoughts in your mind had been long gone, the shell of your body remained. His words and the emotions behind them were heavier than you anticipated, it hit you hard and rough. You sighed, lowering your head for a second. "You should get some sleep, Jay. It's late and you're buzzed. I'll talk to you in the morning,"

Jay was silent. You could tell there was a hint of disappointment from him that you wished you weren't the cause of it. You got up to your feet, staring at the top of his head as he fought to avoid your eyes. So be it. As you turned to leave, you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Will you stay?"

You've heard this one too many times. Yet, you were always a victim to it. Unlike most times, you knew this was different, letting your heart guide you to him instead of your head. It might've been foolish, but you were willing to be a fool that was persistently in love just for him.

"I'll stay."

That night, you barely slept as he laid in your lap, sound asleep. Your fingers traced the sharpness of his features, smoothing over the softness of them. You wondered to yourself whether reconnecting was a good idea in the first place if this odd feeling of yours kept cutting deep into your heart every time you're with Jay. 

You would never wish to leave him once more, but did he feel the same as you do? Or will he be the first to let you go again? 

Maybe, just this once, you'd have to be the first to let go, even if it's a small step, it was something better than nothing.

With one last apologetic look at Jay, you closed his bedroom door and left his home with a heavier heart than usual. By the time morning comes, you hoped both yours and his memories from the night before would be a fever dream. Something so intimate and vulnerable, how were you to forget quickly? Even as you drifted off to sleep in your bed, you could still remember the tears on Jay's face, it being the last thing you remember before waking up to your doorbell ringing.

It was as if your thoughts had manifested Jay to show up at your doorstep. He wasn't a figment of your imagination, but actual flesh and bones. No matter how you rubbed your eyes trying to get yourself to be more awake, he wasn't disappearing away from view. He was real. 

"Can we talk?" 

Those three words immediately brought dread for you. Jay's face was impassive, but it was evident that he was tired, restless. You nodded, moving away to let him in. It was easy for you to let him in, whether it was your home or your heart, you've always kept a space for him.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You stepped closer to him, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and feeling something odd shift in the air.

"Us, Y/N, us," Jay breathed out, strained and hoarse, as if saying that word had pained him deeply. "I don't like this, I hate it. The 'us' that we are now,"

"What?"

"We can't keep continuing on like this. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not,"

It was too early for this, too early for you to be feeling burning internal rage. "Are you kidding? So what are you going to do? Leave me alone again? Go no contact with me again just because you don't want to face me again?"

"No!" Jay took a step closer to you, eyes blazing with equal fiery as yours. "I'm not ending things again, never. I can't lose you this time," his voice wavered, his hand reaching for yours and you let him hold your hand. Was that your first mistake? "I'm in love with you,"

You wished those words hadn't left his lips. For ages, you thought him confessing his true feelings would've fixed things, fixed you and him both, but at that moment, you realised it wasn't that easy, the cracks on your heart remained. 

"I know when you look at me, you see everything that went wrong, but when I look at you, I see the person I'm in love with," every word pierced your heart deeper, the desperation in his voice was clear, a saddening tragedy was imminent. 

"You don't get to do this," you whispered, backing away from him and freeing your hand from his hold. The hurt that flashed across his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you. "You don't get to tell me you're in love with me out of nowhere after we stop talking. It's not fair,"

"Am I … too late?" His voice was quiet, in the midst of the hurt was a pinch of hope. 

"You're not," you didn't want to lie, you knew your feelings were the same and unchanged, but you just weren't ready to cave in and accept his feelings that fast. It wasn't fair. "Time. That's what we need to start afresh,"

Jay nodded, jaw clenched, face stoic. There was no denying that he was hurt, he didn't hide it anyway. "I'll make it right. I'll fix us."

Was it possible to mend everything?

Attending a party to get drunk was probably the worst idea you had in a while. 

The thoughts of you and Jay haunted you like a sickening plague, the conversation you had with him was constantly eating you up from the inside. You were pushing him away, you knew so, you were becoming like him in some ways. How ironic it was. 

That was why the moment Julie invited you to her boyfriend's house party, you knew you had to have some type of getaway, though it wasn't the most ideal. The only problem you didn't appreciate her not telling you earlier was the person you wanted to avoid most was standing with the rest of your friends in a corner playing pool.

"Look, I didn't know they were coming," Julie defended herself, leaning her body close to your side. "What's up with you and Jay anyway?"

"It's complicated,"

Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Of course it is, but how blind and dumb could you both be?"

"Hey!"

"It's obvious you like him and he likes you, why can't you guys just—I don't know—get together?" 

"It's not that easy, I wish it was. I think we're both hurt, or I'm the coward this time. We … talked, he finally said he loves me, but I can't accept it just yet,"

"Why not?"

"I gave my heart to him, Julie. For years I willingly gave my heart to a man that constantly blocked me from his heart, which was why we ended things. Only then he realised his true feelings and right now he's asking for my heart back. I just don't think it's fair," your eyes dropped to the carpeted ground, gripping onto your plastic cup tightly.

"Then would you rather regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Would you regret after pushing him away and never becoming something you've always wished to be? Constantly think about the what-ifs? I know I'm not in the right to say anything since I'm not you, but the only thing I wish to say is to go with your heart," she placed a hand on your shoulder. "If your heart yearns for him, it'll always stay that way."

Why couldn't you stop your heart from yearning for Jay? It was as if Julie had read you like a book, even in those times where you and him stopped contacting one another, you never once forgot about him. It was true, your heart was yearning for him. 

Meeting new people that were introduced by Julie and her boyfriend momentarily took your mind off Jay. Their friends were people you probably wouldn't meet again, so you didn't mind when you were left alone with one of them. 

"You come by here often?" Juyeon, one of the guys, was by your side like a leech instead of being a good company. His presence was screaming red blaring signals to you.

"Not much," you chuckled awkwardly, wondering when Julie would return with the rest of her friends.

"Can I take you out some time?" Wow, he sure knew how to cut to the chase. 

"What?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come by to my place after this?"

Oh, this was your sign to run, wasn't it? "I—well, I have someone to meet—"

"Come on, give me a chance—" he grabbed onto your hand right before you could successfully leave, this was when you remind yourself never to get involved with frat boys.

"Sorry—" you didn't have the chance to finish your sentence when your hand was forcefully ripped away from his hold, another familiar feeling of someone's hand on yours instead. You turned just in time to see Jay standing beside you, visibly fuming.

"Leave her alone, man," he placed himself in front of you, shielding you away from Juyeon. 

"Look, I'm just trying to invite her over. You know what, she's nothing special anyway—" the sound of Jay's fist clashing into Jueyon's jaw stopped him from continuing on. You were too shocked to comprehend everything happening before you, even as Jay lunged onto the man, you could do nothing but stare. 

"Jay!" The shouts of his name clicked in your mind, breaking you out of your shell-shocked state. Every one of your friends rushed to get Jay off of Juyeon who ended up scrambling away, leaving a crowd of onlookers. 

He was hesitant to turn around and look at you, you could tell so from his stiff shoulders, but you stayed hoping to see his face. You reached your hand out shakily to touch his shoulder, yet, before you could actually do so, he turned around, eyes avoiding to meet yours.

"Jay—" 

There he went brushing past you, not a single word spoken from him. The slamming of the front door snapped you out of the hurtful daze you were in to follow him out of the house. He was standing on the pavement, unmoving. You approached him carefully, scared and paranoid of executing a wrong move.

"Jay," you walked to stand before him, feeling a tinge of hurt when he took a step back away from you. "Jay," you repeated his name, this time with a bit more desperation. "Why did you do that?" There was no answer, only a sullen silence which blurred into the night. 

You shifted your attention to his fist, the forming of a bruise and some cracked skin decorated the fist he used to punch Juyeon. Your hand absentmindedly reached for his. "You're hurt," you were about to touch his hand when he pulled away, avoiding your hold, a look of hurt flashed across your features, but you tried to hide it.

"I can't let him talk to you like that," he whispered, looking anywhere but you. You wished to grab his shoulder and forcefully make him look at you. 

"Jay, it's okay,"

"It's not!" He snapped, finally having the nerves to meet your eyes. His change of tone shocked you, your feet took a step back unknowingly. "It's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going insane thinking you're going to get yourself in danger,"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Jay heaved a breath in, voice shaking slightly. "I should be the one to say sorry for acting this way. I'm sorry," 

"Jay—" 

"I'll see you around. Get home safe." You couldn't even reach him and he was already gone, leaving into the night. There was a twisting feeling in your heart that was unbearable. Was this the end of it all? 

You felt even worse walking back into the house when the rest of your friends asked you about Jay and his whereabouts. It was awkward staying there after what went down, so you ended up going back home too, throwing yourself in bed to forget everything that had happened. 

Jay, the fight, Juyeon, you wished those three things never happened that night. You wished you and Jay never happened at all. 

"You're just going to leave it at that?"

A bottle of alcohol late at night with the company of your friends without Jay was what you needed after a rollercoaster of a events. The amount of shots you've taken wasn't enough to blur the image of Jay's tear stained cheek or the hurt in his eyes when he told you he loved you, not even the time he avoided your touch. You wondered if love was meant to be this painful. If it was, why were you so adamant on it?

"I … don't know," you set the glass down, chewing the insides of your cheek. "It'll be too cliche and stupid to say it's complicated, right? I think I'm just hurting him. I still love him, but I can't let myself to do so. It's weird, him reconnecting after a year and suddenly telling me he's in love with me out of the blue. What does all that mean?"

Sunghoon let out a hiss from the shot he took in one go, then turned to you. "Jay might be a dumbass for realising his faults and feelings a little too late, but there's one thing I'm sure about him, and that is how much he cares for you and loves you. I remember after you guys cut contact, he had trouble sleeping for months. He said the thought of you leaving haunted him,"

"I know it's unfair to you how he's only realised his true feelings now," Heeseung interjected, pouring another round into your glass. "But I think you're just hurting yourself more by pushing him away, just like how he did to you. You love him, don't you? Don't repeat the same mistakes, you've wasted a whole year together, don't waste a lifetime regretting what could've been."

Two stubborn people walking in constant circles, that was you and Jay. Too scared to face your feelings, hurting not only the other but also yourself. 

Being absolutely emotional and pissed drunk only resulted in you crying your eyes out, which made your friends worried out of their minds till the point where they had to call the person who would know how to comfort you. However, they  failed to realise in time that the same person was the cause of your tears. 

"Where is she?" You heard his voice from a mile away, it was something you'd never forget. The others were slowly leaving your apartment after hoisting you to your bedroom. The process of which involved you sobbing and your drunk friends trying not to drop you. 

The thudding sound of footsteps filled the silence in your home. It stopped right at the doorstep to your bedroom, the hesitation was evident when he entered after several beats. You laid on your side, facing away from him. His approaching figure made your heart race, you felt the bed dip beneath you upon him taking a seat next to you. 

"You're awake, aren't you?"

You glanced up at him, the dimness of your room casted a shadow across his face, but he was still the most beautiful person you've seen. You slowly sat up, trying to move your body a distance away from him to make everything less surreal. The silence in the room was overwhelming, neither of you knew what to say first.

"Do you hate me?"

"What?" 

"I was the first to let go this time," you chuckled dryly, doing everything but meeting his eyes, maybe you were the coward all along.

Jay let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. "How could I ever hate you?" It was a question, it was his truth, his dying truth that he held onto with all his heart. He glanced down, staring at his hands, the bruises from the hard punches thrown were healing. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you that night. It wasn't right for me to do so,"

In the midst of your hazy mind, your brain functioned well enough to recollect the memories he mentioned. Oh, that night, that incident. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, you were trying to look out for me, I get it," you averted your gaze, letting yourself smile a little to lessen the tension. "I think I was just scared,"

"Of what?" 

"Of you leaving again," 

Jay's gaze softened in the darkness, his hand reaching out to hold yours and it was one of those times that you let him do so knowing how your heart felt like exploding. "I'm never leaving, nor do I hate you. I hate myself for pushing you away, for realising everything too late, for hurting you," he took a deep, yet shaky breath, "If anything, I love you,"

The drowsiness you were experiencing somehow disappeared in a blink of an eye, your mind blank, all you could hear in the back of your mind was those three words which Jay uttered. The air around you and him had shifted, the angry tension dissipated. 

You felt his hold on your hand tightening, just the same as your heart tightening at the sight of Jay's heartbroken smile. "I love you," it was a confession, something ever so freeing to finally be able to say to him knowing your true feelings were reciprocated. "I'm sorry for running away,"

Jay moved closer, his face now barely a few inches away. Everything was a blur, how his other hand travelled to cup your cheeks, his breath practically fanning your lips. "I should be the one to say sorry," those were his last words before pressing his lips on yours.

It wasn't your first time kissing him, but something about the kiss was unlike the times you've experienced.  Despite all those playful, lighthearted kisses you shared with Jay, you knew this was different. Jay was pouring his endless unspoken apologies and devotion, a mix of relief, sadness, longing were hidden behind it.

Even as you pulled away, you could feel the palpable longing between you and him. It was as if years of silent desperation, confusion and pining had melted into one, finally being addressed at that moment. Neither of you spoke a single word, just holding each other close, admiring one another. It was intimate, something you couldn't recreate with someone else. 

"I will never leave you," he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek reassuringly. "You're a piece of me and my heart, you make me whole. I would be a fool to ever let you go again,"

You stared at him as if he was your entire universe, the effect of his every word carved a space into your heart. Eyes closing momentarily, you let yourself melt into his touch, smiling softly. "I trust you."

That was all Jay needed to hear before a small smile spread across his face. You could hear it in silence, see the look on his face and that spark he has in his brown irises, you knew what it was, he was in love.

That night, he stayed with you until morning came. You held onto one another tightly, as though scared that it was the last day to be together. Little words were exchanged, but you were content by him holding you close. 

For the first time in a while, you were able to fall asleep with no lingering thoughts, and for the first time ever, he was yours, and you were his.

Telling your friends you and Jay were finally together was a rollercoaster of emotions that you'd never forget. 

It has been months since you and your best friend officially got together. The reactions from people around you were nothing but relief and support after knowing how much hell you two went through. For once, you actually believed in the 'forever' that was promised.

You didn't question the sound of keys unlocking your front door. It has become a habit for Jay to stop by your place every evening, almost just like before and it felt as if everything was falling back into place. Every visit of his came with something he prepared to surprise you, which was why his cheeky grin gave it away.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head before joining you on the sofa, the playful smile of his never once left. "I have a surprise,"

"Chocolate cake?"

"Okay, something not edible," 

"What is it?" You couldn't help smiling too, nudging your boyfriend in an attempt to get him to reveal his so-called surprise.

"Close your eyes,"

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. Come on, close them!" He was giggling, egging you on to go along with whatever he has up his sleeves. "Now, give me your hand," You complied. Not long after, you felt something cold and small making contact with the skin of your palm. "Open your eyes," 

You were first met with Jay's anticipating gaze, then you looked down, seeing a ring sitting on the palm of your hand. "A ring?" You were surprised, picking it up to look at it closely. It was beautiful, simple yet so intricate in detail, as if it was customised for you. 

"Don't worry, it's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring. I know we did make a five year deal, but we're still taking it slow," he picked the ring from your hold and gently took your hand, slotting the ring into your ring finger. "Maybe in another five years time, I'll actually get to fulfil our pact and replace this with an engagement ring,"

This was the closest you've felt your heart exploding. Heat rushed to your face, heart beating nonstop, you were suddenly the person who's first developed a crush for Jay all over again. "Since when did you become so cheesy," you scoffed, a small smile rested on your lips.

"Only for you, duh," it wasn't a lie whatsoever, Jay never hid himself when it came to you. "Let's call some takeout and stay in,"

"Are you staying over tonight?"

"Only if your bed is open to let me in," he made himself comfortable next to you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his side. 

"You know it always is."

Jay didn't say anything, but his smile was enough of a response. No matter if it's your bed, house or heart, you've always reserved a spot specially for him. He made up a part of you just the same as you were with him. He was your home and safe space. You were glad you made that stupid pact on one drunken night that led him back to you.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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˖⁺｡˚⋆˙u & i ended up in the same room, at the same time | LN4 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: lando norris x student y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: brief mentions of substances & sex but apart from that all fluff

summary: in which you wake up in a mystery bedroom with a mystery tattoo and a not so mystery headache

a/n: sorry sorry sorry lando norris is my guilty pleasure anyone else ? 🤫 this is me redeeming myself after my charles fic where i made him evil

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yourbff woo hoo

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yoursister hope you dont get too drunk tonight

yourusername i would never!

yoursister so proud of u

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f1updates

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f1updates lando norris seen out in a nightclub in monaco tonight!

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user3 omg drunk lando incominggg

user4 omg i wonder if the rest of the grid are out too

user5 he's so hot

user6 what i would do to be in that club tonight

yourusername posted a story

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landonorris posted stories

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maxverstappen1 who are these girls lando hahaha

landonorris dont know😊

landonorris come meet us ar rhe club

twitter ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1 posted a story

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f1updates

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f1updates lando norris spotted clubbing tonight in monaco again this time with an unknown girl on his arm!

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user10 WHAT THE HELL

user11 who is she wtf

user12 hahahah go on lando

user13 this & max's story has sent me to an esrly grave

user14 i just looked at max's story thanks to you

user13 i am so sorry

user15 why is my man kissing another girl in the club rn

landonorris posted a story

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maxverstappen1 WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU GUYS GONE

landonorris not sure!

oscarpiastri oh this will be funnyyy tomorrow

yourusername

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yourusername he said his car go zoom or wtvrrr

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maxverstappen1 dont tag me in this im not involved

yourusername liar ur a tequila whore!

maxverstappen1 ALSO IS THAT TATTOOS

yourbff the tattoos just sobered me up

oscarpiastri im locking lando up after this

landonorris the girlies are mad about the tattoos

yourusername I TOLD YOU!!!

landonorris where are you baby

yourusername lay on ur sofa to be honest

twitter ->

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twitter ->

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landonorris

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landonorris anyways

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user21 no way

user22 who would've thought

yourbff LOL

maxverstappen1 at least it was worth it i suppose

landonorris what if i told u im the mastermiiiind

yourusername and now ur miiine

maxverstappen1 weird

user23 NOT THE MASTERMIND LYRICS LOL

user24 they r so parents

yourusername pls no dont put that kind of responsibility on us

THE END 🧡

[dixons-sunshine]

Sleepy!reader falling asleep all the time on Daryl’s shoulder,Chest,Arm anywhere in car ride or meeting with group and everyone teasing him and her about it

Sleepyhead | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Life in a world ravaged by the undead was hard. Constantly wondering where you'd find your supplies, whether your loved ones were safe and whether you'd die that day was exhausting. That exhaustion caught up with you, but thankfully, Daryl was more than willing to be your temporary pillow, even at the expense of getting teased about it.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison, post season three, pre season four.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sleep deprivation.

Word count: 768.

A/n: This is really short, but I really didn't have it in me today to write anything long, so I wrote this little fic instead. I feel like this isn't exactly like what was requested, but I hope you like this nonetheless!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Aw, the two of you are so adorable.”

“Glenn, get your camera. We need to get a picture of this.”

“Who knew you could be so soft, Daryl?”

The sound of laughter pulled you out of the black abyss of sleep you were nearly lost in. As everyone continued talking to the archer who's chest you found yourself rested against, you could clearly hear the teasing tones in everyone's voices, and it nearly made you smile—however, that would blow your cover and show everyone that you had woken up again. You wanted to see how Daryl handled the situation.

Barely even fifteen minutes prior, you had been sat against the wall of the lower level of the cellblock as everyone participated in a game of truth or dare. However, not too long into the game, you had yawned and rested your head back against the wall. You were extremely tired, the nights of sleeplessness finally knocking on your door in the form of exhaustion. As you had closed your eyes, you could distinctly feel the arms of someone wrapping around your shoulders, and your cheek had found itself rested upon a firm yet soft surface—that surface you now knew to be Daryl's chest—and a blanket had been draped around you.

“If y'all dun' shut the fuck up righ' now, I'll throw this goddamn pot at yer heads,” Daryl grumbled, subconsciously tightening his arms around you and readjusting the blanket that he had draped around the both of you to fight off the chill the night exhibited. “She ain't been gettin' any sleep lately. S'the first time she's slept in days. If y'all wanna make fun'a me, do it tomorrow when ya dun' run the risk'a wakin' her up.”

“Aw, Daryl,” Michonne awed teasingly, sharing a small laugh with Carl, who watched the exchange in amusement. “You're so sweet. Who would've thought that you'd actually be a big teddy bear instead of this brooding, scary guy you pretend to be?”

“She did,” Rick laughed, motioning over to you. “Look at her. She managed to make Daryl hold her in front of all of us. I thought that would be impossible.”

“Piss off, Grimes,” Daryl replied, ducking his head to hide the blush that spread over his face. Somehow, without even having to shrug you off first, Daryl got up and held you bridal style, regarding the amused faces of his friends once more before turning around. “M'takin her to bed. Nigh', assholes.”

Laughter followed him as he climbed the stairs to your shared cell. You nuzzled your face into his chest and tried to hide your smile, vehemently amused by the situation Daryl had just escaped. You knew that the two of you wouldn't hear the end of what had happened downstairs, but you had no problem with a little teasing over something as tender as Daryl holding you.

Soon, Daryl layed you down on the bed and climbed in behind you, adjusting the covers around the both of you. The archer grumbled something to himself before pressing himself against your back, wrapping his arms around you.

Finding it the perfect moment to add some teasing of your own, you rested your hand over his that rested around you. “They're right, you know. You are really sweet.”

A few beats of silence passed until Daryl spoke up. “Ya were awake the whole time?”

“No, not the whole time,” you corrected. “I woke up because everyone was laughing too loud. I'm glad I did, though. I'd hate to miss any opportunity to see you get so flustered.”

“Yer the worst,” Daryl mumbled, nuzzling his face into your shoulder blade.

“Yeah, I am,” you giggled. “You love me, though.”

A long moment of silence passed. You thought that Daryl had fallen asleep already, but soon he tightened his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I do love ya, sleepyhead.”

[suzukiblu]

. . . anyway LISTEN I told 'yall November was gonna be "obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU" month, and I really did not INTEND to post my daily words for it again this year but also, like, fuck it, we ball. No promises I will update EVERY day this time around but again: fuck it, we ball. ( also uhhhhh I've been writing this fic kinda-sorta-semi out of order lately but there is still a significant chunk of word count I'd already written that I would've pre-gamed and posted YESTERDAY if I'd thought I was gonna be doing this, sooooo hope nobody minds us kickin' off the month with like an extra 5.9k on top of the 1.6k of obligatory sugar that I ACTUALLY wrote today behind this here cut? yes? no?? Bueller???? )

get sugared, Super-boytoy. Tim, you just . . . you just do your future-supervillain best over there, buddy. you just do what you can with yourself. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I wanted to,” Tim says again, and Kon glances away and bites his lip, turning the flowers by the stem again. 

“It’s, uh–pretty,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, it’s–cool. Thanks.” 

“If I can’t bring you fresh ones, well . . .” Tim shrugs. Kon glances back to him, and very briefly presses one of the orchid blooms against his own mouth. His face is still all flushed and his eyes are still a little soft, and it’s . . . it makes a picture, alright, even if it's not one Tim's specifically set up to take. Especially with the gold eyeliner and his blue eyes both matching the orchids. 

Tim didn't plan that, obviously, but he thinks it makes up for the sapphire versus ruby thing.

“Um . . .” Kon trails off, biting his lip. Glances down at the orchids from under his lashes. It doesn't make him any less of a picture, for sure. “So, um–do you wanna see the ‘something nice’ I got?” 

Tim blinks, immediately thinks of the most embarrassing option that Kon could possibly mean, and desperately tries to fight back a mortified flush at the idea. But, well–everything he can see Kon wearing is something he remembers buying him already, so . . . 

Oh god, he needs his brain to shut up right now. Immediately. Right now and immediately and forever. 

“Sure,” he says like a normal person, trying not to panic. “What is it?” 

Kon, thank god, pulls a little rectangular package inexplicably–and inexpertly–wrapped in newspaper comics out of the same coat pocket he tucked the jewelry box in. There's plain white string tied around it in a bow. 

Tim . . . blinks. 

If he didn't know better, he'd think Kon had . . . 

“I, um, got you something?” Kon says, and Tim stares blankly at the package. He–what? “For once, anyway. Well, I guess, uh, technically you got it for yourself, and actually this is kinda stupid maybe, you can literally just get yourself whatever you want whenever, obviously, but I just thought, uh–” 

“You got me something?” Tim repeats in surprise. Kon turns pink and shoves the package at him. Tim is too bewildered not to take it. 

“I thought it’d be, uh–fun,” he says, biting his lip and still very visibly blushing. “I mean–that we could have some fun with it. Y’know?” 

Tim stares at the package for another moment, then looks up at Kon. Alright, this maybe isn’t exactly the vibe he was going for here in terms of who’s paying for what and who’s giving things to who, but . . . well, Kon apparently used his allowance for whatever this is, at least, which gives him a reason to have wanted the allowance, so . . . he can work with that, he figures. Like, it’s an “in” to work from; a step in the process. 

He can’t tell what Kon’s gotten him from the shape of the package, though the edges are hard even though it doesn’t feel like it’s in a box or anything. “Have some fun” isn’t much of a clue, though he supposes it does imply something interactive. Maybe it’s a game of some kind, or–

Tim unties the bow and splits apart the clumsy seam of the comic-page wrapping paper with his thumb, tugging through its layers to reveal the package’s contents, and Kon flushes a little darker and watches him just a little bit nervously. 

Tim doesn’t actually know what to say. 

“I just thought, um, a real one’d probably take better pictures than a phone can,” Kon says sheepishly, slanting his eyes away and half-hiding his face behind the orchids. “I made sure the battery was charged and the guy at the store said it's got a lot of storage, I guess, so . . .” 

“You got me a camera,” Tim says blankly, which is the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him short of, like . . . no, it’s pretty much just the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. By far it’s the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. 

“You like taking pictures, right?” Kon fidgets a little, then smiles just barely shyly as he glances back at him. Tim's heart skips a few beats. Or more than just “a few”, maybe. “So, um–I thought maybe we could go do that . . . somewhere. You know, after dinner.” 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him a little stupidly. It’s not a particularly good camera, honestly–like, it’s a perfectly functional model for casual amateur use and a decently reliable commercial brand, but he’s got much better ones that are all professional-quality. He hasn’t used any of them in a while and most of them are admittedly a few years old now, but . . . yeah, this was a hundred bucks max, if that, and his cheapest camera was over five hundred. 

Note to self: raise Kon’s allowance. 

Also, apparently now his favorite camera is the kind of camera civilian amateurs just take random family photos on. Apparently that’s a thing. 

Tim really doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Kon not only remembered something he mentioned having an interest in, Kon bothered to actually get him something he thought he’d have an interest in. That is really, really not the dynamic he’s been encouraging here, for one thing. And also, why even would Kon do that? Like–really? 

“Thanks,” Tim says sincerely, turning the camera over in his hands and feeling incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “I love it.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, biting his lip around a smile. His face is still a little pink and he looks all soft and pretty like that, especially with the flowers still in his hand. Tim really was not prepared for Kon having “soft and pretty” in his repertoire. Like, that was not a thing he ever expected to see from his cocky, crowing brawler of a teammate. 

Kon’s only a brawler because he thinks he’s supposed to be, though, Tim’s pretty sure. Like–increasingly sure, at this point. 

He really, really needs to figure out how to get Kon to tell Robin more about his TTK. Or, like . . . anything about it, apparently. Just literally any single thing, at this point. 

“Thank you,” he says again, inspecting the camera assessingly and making note of all its functions and ports and the generally obvious basics. “We could go take some shots around downtown later, if you’re up for that?” 

Kon turns bright red, and Tim doesn’t understand for about half a second before remembering–the last time Kon had talked to him about taking pictures, he’d offered . . . 

Oh Jesus. 

Tim is either incredibly stupid or–actually, he doesn’t even know. Lucky? Embarrassing? The dumbest moron alive who didn’t even realize he was being flirted with again? All those things and several even worse ones? 

Kon had offered to let him take spicy pics of him the last time they'd talked about taking pictures, whatever “spicy” means to Kon–brash, impulsive, shameless Kon–and Tim’s the idiot whose first thought upon Kon following up that conversation by very literally giving him a camera was to go take pictures of fucking downtown.

He is the most useless “sugar daddy” to ever sugar. 

Well, to be fair, it is Gotham downtown, so it’s very–

“I like taking pictures of streets and buildings,” he blurts belatedly, fumbling to sound like just the oblivious idiot that he is and not some kind of weird fucking perv who’s trying to get Kon arrested for public indecency. Jesus, he’s stupid. “And people-watching is interesting too. You know, stuff like that.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and looks several ways at once, including both a little relieved and a little disheartened, which . . . okay, Tim would literally die if they actually went somewhere to take spicy pics tonight, so is unfortunately unavoidable. He’s not trying to make Kon not feel–attractive or anything, but he needs at least twenty-four hours to make a plan and also two or three or seventeen contingency plans before . . . anything like that happens. Ever. Even in theory. “Um–yeah, sure. That sounds cool.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, still desperately pretending to be an idiot. It’s not hard, on account of the fact that he very much is an idiot. 

Kon pauses for a moment, then perks up a little, seeming to think of something, and asks–“When’s dinner?” 

“Our reservation’s in forty-five minutes,” Tim says, double-checking the time on his phone just to be sure. “Well, forty-six. I figured that’d let us take our time walking over and maybe we could window-shop a little on the way.” 

And also shop-shop a lot, if Kon gives him literally even the slightest indication that he wants or needs something. Just if it comes up or anything. That’s all. 

Tim definitely did plan their route to the restaurant to cut straight through the middle of the downtown shopping district, either way. 

“We could’ve just met there, dude,” Kon says wryly, but grins anyway, glancing down at the orchids in his hand again. “Forty-six minutes, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Tim confirms. 

“And you like taking pictures of streets and buildings?” Kon asks, his grin turning just a little bit sly. Tim frowns briefly in confusion, not sure what the grin’s about. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Gotham has a lot of really interesting architecture and design. Like, it’s an old city, and one that’s been pretty resistant to updates in a lot of areas or just not had the money for those updates. So you get a lot of places with a lot of character and it’s basically the bastard child of gothic and art deco design with a side of industrial warehouse, depending on the part of town you’re in. Like, Crime Alley and the Diamond District have very different vibes, but they’re both very Gotham vibes, if you know what to look for. It’s–” 

Kon is grinning really widely at him, for some reason. Tim realizes he’s rambling like a moron and turns red. 

“Uh,” he says, repressing a wince. “Yes. Yeah. I like taking pictures of streets and buildings.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, and then he carefully packs the orchids back into their box and it back into the gift bag and transfers the chocolates and jewelry back into it too, then grins even wider at him as he hooks the bag’s handles over his arm and into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t drop the camera, babe.” 

“Wha–” Tim starts to say, and then Kon grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the closest alley, which is terrible survival instincts for Gotham, oh god, but before Tim can say anything about that Kon’s wrapped an arm around his waist just tight enough to just barely lift him off his feet and bolted straight up into the air with him. “Shit!”

Tim doesn’t drop the camera because he’s held onto cameras while falling off literal buildings before, but definitely only because of that. Muscle memory, or whatever. Also he’s been snatched off his feet by Bruce and Dick plenty of times and thrown off rooftops by multiple rogues and thugs over the years and these days gets regularly dragged around by Bart, all while holding very important things he could not afford to drop, so it’s not like either the sudden jolt or the effort to keep his grip on the camera are as disorienting as it otherwise would be. Just . . . 

Ugh, Tim realizes, absolutely unimpressed with himself upon realizing that the breathless feeling he’s having right now is not actually related to the swift and sudden increase in altitude, but is actually just because it’s Kon holding him. 

He is an idiot, isn’t he, he reflects resignedly. Just an actual literal idiot. 

Jesus. 

“Whatcha think?” Kon asks with a grin as he comes to a stop in mid-air with him. He stops very suddenly, but Tim notices a distinct lack of jarring with said stop, which implies Kon’s got his TTK around him again and probably completely around him, which means–

Oh god, Tim thinks, and very quickly makes himself stop thinking about that. 

“It’s cool,” he says, because a normal civilian would think flying was something interesting and unusual, but it’s hard to act too excited about a move Kon probably pulls on literally everyone he–

“I meant the view, babe!” Kon says with a laugh, and Tim . . . blinks. 

And then he looks down. 

They’re hovering a few thousand feet up, and downtown is already lit up bright in the early evening gloom. And Kon . . . 

“Streets and buildings, as ordered,” Kon says, grinning wider with a smug, cocky look on his face. 

Oh no, he’s hot, Tim realizes with dread, and then blinks again. Stares down at the city below, past the whipping wind and down into the busy streets and the bright, dazzling lights cutting through the murky gloom. He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, obviously, because of course he has–he’s been climbing these rooftops for years, and every night he runs across and swings back and forth between them and utterly fails to learn how to do more than a double backflip. 

One day, he promises himself distractedly, and then looks back at Kon. 

He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, but never just because someone thought he’d like it. Like–not like this, he means. Dick's shown him a few particularly special or exhilarating views over the years, yeah, but . . . definitely not like this. Not for a reason like this. 

And definitely not while peacocking all smug and pretty dressed up in clothes that he bought him and holding him close enough to kiss. 

Kon’s expression turns a little sheepish; a little soft. Not quite shy, but . . . 

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice pitched a little quieter, and Tim has the much worse and even more dread-inducing realization of oh no, he’s CUTE.

He swallows, briefly, and feels his face burn. 

“Yeah,” he manages in an almost-normal voice. “I like it.” 

Kon grins at him, brighter than any city light, and Tim barely keeps himself from dropping the camera after all. 

“Thanks,” he attempts awkwardly, making himself focus on the camera and resisting the urge to take an immediate shot of that city-light grin. 

Then he takes one anyway, because of course he does. Kon laughs in surprise, then makes a face at him teasingly. 

“Hey, you can buy this face in any cheap gossip rag, focus on the fun stuff,” he jokes, jerking his head towards the city below. Tim looks searchingly at him for a moment, and then for obvious reasons snaps another picture. Kon flushes a little again. They probably won't even come out from this close, but . . . 

“You’re the most fun I’ve had all week,” Tim says, which is definitely too honest but clearly necessary to make a point of saying. Kon turns redder, ducking his head and grinning around his bitten lip. 

“You don’t have to say that kind of thing to me, man,” he says, and it comes across almost like a reflex. Tim hates . . . yeah, just literally everybody Kon’s ever known in his whole entire life, actually? Like, pretty much everybody? Bart gets a break because he grew up alone in VR and is therefore terrible with people and the girls get a break because they haven’t known any of them that long, but everybody else can just take a long walk off a short gutter, in Tim’s opinion. 

Especially any “everybody” from Cadmus. 

Or Metropolis, at this point. 

“I’m not saying anything I don’t want to say,” he says simply, and goes to the effort to frame a few shots of the skyline so Kon will know he appreciates . . . well, not the angle, exactly, but the thought. 

Technically he is usually on top of a building when he’s doing this, so the angle is actually a slightly different one than he’s used to–not that he’s been taking photos lately, just–not the point, really. Kon got him a camera and brought him up here because he clearly thought he’d like it, and damned if Tim is gonna do anything to make him think he doesn’t. 

He has better cameras for things like this–aerial shots and night photography and long-distance and the like, and better cameras for closeup candids too–but he already knows these pictures are all going to be exactly what he wants them to be, even the ones that don't come out. 

Or especially those, maybe. 

He's not sure how he'd explain that feeling to someone else. 

Kon flies them around, staying out of sight behind the light pollution and among the shadows of the buildings, and Tim takes . . . a lot more pictures than he needs to, actually. He was just trying to make sure Kon knew he appreciated him thinking of him, but actually . . . 

Well. 

It’s fun, that’s all. 

It’s . . . been a while, kinda, since he got to spend this much time on just photography and nothing else. Or–any time at all, really. 

Not that this is nothing else, obviously, given that Kon’s holding him and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything besides that, but it is the kind of a view a standard civilian never gets, and it’s kind of nice to be flying for non-work-related reasons, for once. Like . . . novel, he guesses. A different experience. 

Technically he and Dick do “fly” together just for fun, sometimes, but that’s different. Like–so many kinds of different. It helps them in their work–keeps the rooftops familiar and them both in shape and in sync–but he can’t take photos when he’s trying to keep up with Nightwing across the rooftops of Gotham, and it’s not like Dick’s carrying him either. 

Also, it’s much less flustering and difficult to concentrate through, because again, Dick is not carrying him, and also Dick doesn’t do things like wear clothes he bought or do his eyeliner and paint his nails for him. Or, uh . . . anything like that. 

Also, definitely the “spicy pics” thing is not at all a thing, with Dick. Like, not even slightly, in any way whatsoever. And they’ve also never made out in a changing room or the back of a planetarium or– 

Look, there’s a lot of ways it’s different, okay? 

A lot of ways. 

“I'm not boring you, am I?” Tim asks a little bit sheepishly as Kon lands them on a ledge just behind one of the bigger gargoyles, tucked in tight in the shadows between it and the building it's perched on. “We can probably still fit in some window-shopping before dinner, if you want.” 

“Oh my god, dude, I promise we can do things you don't have to spend money on,” Kon says with a laugh as he lets him down on the ledge. “Though if it helps you technically did spend money on this, given how I got the camera and all.” 

“It's your allowance,” Tim says, because he wants to make sure Kon actually gets that. “You can spend it however you want.” 

“Well, I spent it how I wanted,” Kon says, and then steps closer into his space with a smile. Tim ends up sitting on the gargoyle’s back as Kon leans down to kiss him, and it's not like he's never kissed anyone while perched on a gargoyle before, but somehow it feels like something new anyway. New and electric, bright and easy and smeared with the city lights and thrilling in its shadows, and– 

Kon breaks off the kiss, though he keeps a hand on Tim’s arm, probably to make sure the squishy untrained civilian won't accidentally fall off the ledge and get splatted on the concrete. Tim barely holds himself back from chasing his mouth. 

“It's cool, anyway. Um, doing stuff you're into with you, I mean,” Kon says, looking a little soft and almost-shy again, and never mind, Tim not only needs to chase his mouth, he needs to set up a damn manhunt for it. “You're real cute when you get excited, man. I mean, uh–just–” 

The manhunt is going to require a very significant budget, Tim notes. 

Then he kisses him again, obviously. Kon melts down into it–into him, really–and wraps his arms around his neck, and Tim feels several kind of ways about it. Admittedly, it's the easier option with him sitting on the gargoyle and Kon leaning over him, but Kon's put his arms around his neck a couple of times now, and, well . . . 

That's just not something he would've expected from him, he guesses. Not “cool” or masculine or badass or . . . whatever, exactly, Kon thinks he's supposed to be. 

So Tim . . . likes it, he thinks, that Kon doesn't seem to think he needs to be like that around Tim Drake. 

Robin’s sure as hell never seen Kon in eyeliner. 

Robin's loss, Tim thinks. 

. . . maybe he's compartmentalizing a little too much these days, but still. 

Kon makes a very, very soft little sound between their mouths and then laughs, and Tim promises himself he won't stop at Gotham: he'll take over Metropolis for this asshole one day. Even if that means putting up with Lex Luthor and Superman. And also, like . . . everything about Metropolis. 

He'll figure it out. Supervillainy is still a long-term plan, so he's got time. 

Anyway, if he gives it to Kon after he takes it over he won't have to put up with it, so it's whatever. Sugar daddies do that kind of thing, right? Get their sugar-ees a city? 

. . . okay, definitely not. Like, very definitely not. 

“Okay date idea, then?” Kon asks as he leans back a bit and does a very bad job of biting back a smile, his face a little flushed and arms squeezing a little tighter around his neck. 

Tim will get him Metropolis if it kills Lex Luthor. 

“Very okay,” he says, smiling back at him. Kon grins, his face turning just a little bit redder, and then kisses him again. Tim has absolutely no complaints about that. Ever. He can’t even imagine a complaint he’d have about that, in fact. 

Worst case scenario, he’ll get them in at another restaurant if they miss their reservation. 

He really doesn't know what else he's supposed to do about how easy Kon blushes. 

They definitely spend too long making out against the gargoyle and Tim definitely lets himself get too riled up during it–and does not think about tactile telekinesis or any kind of related passive perception while he does–but by the time he’s the one pressing Kon back against the building, he really doesn’t care anymore. 

The fact Kon is even willing to let him do that when there is literally no way Tim could ever actually pin him anywhere without a way to sabotage his powers is . . . really, really distracting. Just–so distracting. 

Jesus, Tim thinks, breaking off just long enough to catch his breath for a moment. Kon pants softly against his mouth, which sabotages that even worse than kryptonite would sabotage TTK. 

Jesus, Tim thinks again, and then crushes their mouths back together. 

He doesn’t need to breathe that often. 

Kon makes a softer, breathier sound this time, and Tim does not let himself make it weird by letting his hands wander anywhere outside of second base territory. Frankly he’s not sure second base territory isn’t him making it weird, but Kon started it, so hopefully it’s not? Like–logically it’d follow that Kon wouldn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want touched, right? 

Well–hopefully, anyway. 

The air feels tight, Tim notices suddenly, like the feeling of sinking into deeper pressure when underwater but all at once, and then realizes–oh. 

Uh. 

Okay. 

“Um,” he says, and immediately the feeling of pressure vanishes as Kon jerks back and claps a hand over his own mouth. Which is mostly him pushing Tim back, given their position, but he does crack the brickwork behind him a little. 

Whoops, Tim thinks. 

“Sorry!” Kon blurts. “Sorry, sorry, that’s–sorry! I just, uh–got a little too into it. I won’t do it again.” 

“It’s really not a problem,” Tim says, with absolutely no idea how to take the idea of Kon getting “a little too into it” when kissing him, or the idea that getting a little too into it apparently involves getting wrapped up in TTK a lot more noticeably than making him bulletproof at the museum did. “I mean–it didn’t hurt or anything, I was just surprised.” 

“I–yeah, I know, it’s just–weird,” Kon says, still looking mortified. “So–sorry. That’s all.” 

“I don’t mind weird,” Tim says, because actually the idea of being temporarily at least as invulnerable as Kon is while making out with him implies being able to devote a lot more attention to said making out, as opposed to keeping half an eye out for snipers or rogues or random rooftop criminals. Not that he’d stop paying any attention to that, obviously, just–yeah. Well. 

It’s a little tempting, that’s all. 

“Uh–you don’t?” Kon bites his lip, still looking a little embarrassed. 

“It kind of just felt like scuba-diving, but with less equipment involved,” Tim says with a little shrug, keeping his tone light because “seriously, you have no idea how much I’d like to not be compulsively keeping an eye out for snipers right now” isn’t a very “civilian” thing to say. “And I’m not about to complain about you enjoying kissing me that much either way.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and flushes a little. “Uh–really?” 

“Really,” Tim says, smiling at him again and tugging gently at the lapels of his jacket to pull himself back in. Kon blushes, and grins, and meets him halfway for the kiss. The sensation of pressure wraps him up again, gentle but undeniable, and Tim feels several kinds of ways about it. 

Maybe even a little bit safe, or at least as safe as anyplace outside the Batcave ever gets. 

Tim knows there’s no such thing as being perfectly, completely safe, but getting all wrapped up in Kon’s TTK and kissed for it makes it hard to remember that. 

Very, very hard. 

They spend a much longer time making out this time. Tim is vaguely aware that they still have a dinner reservation to make, but . . . well, he did pad the time to allow for window-shopping, so even with the time they spent flying around taking pictures, it's probably fine? 

Yeah, no, they’ve definitely missed their reservation by now. Probably way past missed it. Just so, so far past missed it. 

Weirdly, Tim doesn’t care as much as he should, even though he really prefers when things go to plan and also needs Kon to feel appreciated and like he got properly spoiled and taken someplace nice. He’s going to have to figure out something else on the fly, though, because he really does needs Kon to feel appreciated and also needs the excuse to get him more used to getting money spent on him and–

Tim remembers that he needs to breathe more than he's currently breathing and breaks off the kiss. Kon half-chases his mouth with his own, audibly breathless himself. Tim is not equipped to handle Kon breathless. 

That might actually be more flattering than the TTK thing. Or, uh–flustering, maybe. 

Both, maybe. “Both” is probably accurate here. 

Jesus, Tim does not know what he did to deserve Kon getting breathless over something he’s done to him, much less all soft and pretty and–

They have definitely, definitely missed their reservation. Usually Tim has a better sense of time than that, but usually Tim doesn’t have Kon wanting to make out on a Gotham rooftop with him, Like, he thinks he can forgive himself a little bit of disorientation on that one, considering. 

. . . as long as Bruce never finds out he messed up that bad, anyway. Because Bruce would definitely not like hearing he’d messed up that bad, TTK or not. 

Probably especially involving the TTK, actually. Probably Bruce would not take “yeah I let Superboy get distracted enough to unconsciously wrap me up in his Kryptonian-level superpowers while he wasn’t in full control of them and actually, like, encouraged it, kinda? like, explicitly encouraged it, actually”. 

Yeah, Bruce would not like that. 

“Um,” Tim says, and clears his throat a little awkwardly. “So, uh–hungry yet?” 

“You could say that,” Kon murmurs, then flashes him a sharp, wicked grin with his eyes slit open just enough to fix on Tim’s mouth. Tim spares a moment to compartmentalize just enough to not lose his mind about that, then makes the mistake of licking his lips anxiously, sees Kon’s hooded eyes go hot at the sight, and immediately fails to not lose his mind. 

“Uh,” he manages, and then decides they don’t really need to get dinner just yet and maybe they could just, like–no, no, Kon is definitely not getting enough calories from that stupid barely-legal underground lab’s stupid definitely-not-health-code-compliant cafeteria, Tim is not gonna be a bad enough date to not get his date a respectable amount of calories. That is just not a thing that he’s gonna, like . . . thing, as a thing. Or whatever. 

Not like Superman’s been bringing Kon casseroles or anything, the prick. 

“Um, I–uh, might’ve let us get a little too distracted, sorry,” Tim attempts after a moment of mental fumbling, making himself push back from Kon a little and pulling his phone out to check the time. Yeah, they have definitely missed their reservation. Very, very thoroughly have they missed it. 

Dammit. That is not Bat-quality situational awareness. 

“You think that was just you, man?” Kon asks with a little laugh, just barely ducking his head and biting his lip. It is . . . very distracting. As is his face. And his hands, which are still loosely on Tim’s back, and his TTK, which is still loosely . . . basically everywhere, yeah. Just–way too many places for Tim to be rational about, basically. 

“I mean, I was the one who made the reservation,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly as he does his best to at least fake rationality. “So, uh, I should’ve been paying attention to the time. I can see if there’s someplace we can still slip in, it’s a little last-minute for a Friday but–” 

Kon kisses him again. 

Tim was saying something, he’s reasonably sure, but he couldn’t remember whatever it was with a gun to his head. A gun to his head while out of his suit and without Kon on the same floor as him, to be clear. 

Kon leans back and grins at him, all bright and pretty and cutting right through the shade and shadows of Gotham like a spotlight-signal lighting up the cloud cover. Tim remains vaguely aware of the fact that he was doing . . . something. At some point. In theory. 

God, Kon is so pretty. So, so pretty. And everything he’s wearing is something Tim bought him, coat and clothes and jewelry and all. Just–all of it, as far as he can see. 

Tim does not let himself think about what else Kon might or might not be wearing right now. Just–that way lies madness, and also Kon not getting a decent dinner and decent spoiling. 

. . . there’s probably some other ways Tim could spoil him, technically, if he just– 

Tim does not finish that thought. 

“You’re so fucking cute, daddy,” Kon says, still grinning just as signal-bright and pretty at him. Tim is not prepared for literally any of that and nearly melts right off the ledge into an incoherent mess of street pizza. 

“Uh,” he says, swallowing roughly. “We should–are you hungry yet?” 

Kon laughs, for some reason. Tim very quietly and carefully burns alive, and then Kon floats up a few inches and ducks around him and back out into the open air, leaning down to grin at him and reaching to–probably he’s intending to pick him up again, Tim’s brain is vaguely aware, but the rest of Tim is thinking more like hurr durr pretty boy, which is definitely why he ends up reaching up to cup Kon’s face in his hands and tug him down for another kiss, pushing himself up on his toes on the edge of the ledge to reach him easier. Kon makes a soft, breathless little noise, then laughs in delight and kisses him back. 

The wind is cold and sharp and the evening sky is all heavy dark clouds and hazy light pollution and Kon’s wearing clothes Tim bought him, some of which Tim even suggested to him, and he put on makeup and painted his nails to come see him and he’s got a gift bag of little things Tim picked out for him hooked in the crook of his elbow and he liked all of those little things, and they’ve not only missed but obliterated their dinner reservation, and they’re half-on a ledge high above the street and kissing and Kon is just so pretty.

And Kon also bought him a camera and brought him up here because he thought he’d like it and called him “cute”, which are all facts that Tim is definitely going to have to compartmentalize to fully process later, or else he really will melt right off the stupid ledge. 

The spicy pics thing, also, is a thing. The spicy pics thing is, uh–very much a thing. 

Tim is maybe just never gonna process that particular fact in, like, self-defense. 

Ever. 

. . . god, he’s going to have to process that fact at some point, isn’t he. God. That is . . . that is a whole thing that he is going to have to do. Like, effectively and well and throughly.

Maybe it’s not too late to just go supervillain right now, actually. Maybe Kon would be open to, like, minionhood or something. Lots of supervillains put their minions up in their lairs, right? That’s totally a thing, isn’t it? 

Ugh, no, Kon deserves a place he can really feel like is his place and also he has not laid near enough groundwork to get Dick to switch sides. Like, Alfred would, obviously. Alfred will be on-board the second the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan comes up and will probably have useful notes to add. But Dick is gonna require some more long-term finessing and Babs definitely won’t come if Dick doesn’t and– 

Kon laughs into the kiss and cups Tim’s face in return, which is incredibly distracting, and then squishes his face, which is incredibly annoying. 

“Hey!” Tim sputters, and Kon laughs again and leans back just enough to grin at him. 

“You are so weird, dude,” he says. “I can literally hear you thinking.” 

“. . . that’s not me being detached from the situation, I–” Tim starts, unable to repress a wince, and Kon just grins wider, grabs his wrists, and tugs him off the ledge and–oh, okay, that’s a weird sensation, Tim notes, because gravity does absolutely nothing at all to him until Kon’s pulled him into his arms and wrapped him up in them again all easy and secure. . 

So that’s . . . yeah, no, “incredibly distracting” isn’t actually gonna cover this one, considering. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking a couple of times. That. That is definitely not how Superboy holds Robin. 

Frick. 

“I just gotta keep you better attached, right, daddy?” Kon purrs–really purrs, his chest briefly vibrating against Tim’s–and then grins wider at him again with eyes that are, unfortunately, literally goddamn sparkling right now–thanks, gold eyeliner, Tim didn’t need those higher thought processes–before giving him another quick little kiss that Tim actually would like to turn into a four-hour make-out session and maybe also a sleepover and–

God he needs to remember how to compartmentalize. He really, really needs to remember how to compartmentalize. 

Also he needs to kiss Kon’s literal friggin’ brains out, the smug friggin’ asshole.

Mid-air makeouts are the worst possible idea Kon has ever inflicted on him and Tim would sooner fight Killer Croc without his utility belt than point that fact out to him. 

He winds his arms around Kon’s neck and kisses him back, and Kon makes this tiny little–not pleased, not content, but actually happy-sounding noise and kisses back harder. Tim feels gravity stop being a particularly relevant concern again and feels like he’s floating in deep, heavy water but also like he’s the lightest he’s ever been in his life, and it is . . . it is a feeling, alright. 

Kon is a menace. Kon is a problem. 

Kon is so, so damn cute. 

“You are an actual literal brat, baby,” Tim mutters slightly more feelingly than he means to, and Kon’s laugh comes out a little breathier this time and he ducks his head to the side and his face flushes and–

No. Nope. No. Tim needs to not learn anything new about himself or Kon tonight, or, worse, anything about him and Kon. That is just not a thing he has time for in his schedule. He’s got to fit in an anxiety attack and three full files’ worth of casework this weekend, for one, plus his science presentation and that make-up book report, and also come up with someplace else nice enough to take Kon to dinner tonight. 

“So, uh–dinner?” he says very quickly–self-defense, again–and Kon bites his lower lip and grins around it, his face still turned just a little bit away. Tim pretends they’re not effectively pressed together from knee to neck right now. Pretends valiantly. “I mean–um, if you’re hungry yet.” 

Kon laughs, ducking his head lower, the dangling gold teardrop hanging from his ear gleaming warmly in the murky electric city light. Tim goes through multiple stages of emotional processing to keep himself from kissing his neck right behind that earring and completely forgetting about not only dinner, but all his homework and casework and even the anxiety attack. 

Does Kon laugh this much around Robin? 

Tim really doesn’t feel like he does. 

He also doesn’t tell Robin very important things like the fact that he can make other people bulletproof on a whim and map out an entire mall just by standing in it, which is objectively much worse and potentially dangerous a thing not to do, but also Tim is already positive he’s going to miss that laugh like crazy every time he sees Kon with the mask on. 

Robin doesn’t get to see Kon like this at all, even when he lets the asshole eat both stupid boxes of cinnamon bread. 

“Dinner, yeah,” Kon says, grinning again and then taking off backwards across the sky, apparently unconcerned about their chances of hitting a building. Tim’s not really in a proper carry so much as just stretched out against him and wrapped up in his arms, but given the nature of how Kon’s powers work, an actual carry is obivously not really a concern, so . . . 

Oh, Tim realizes as Kon tips back just enough to be reclining in the air, still flying without any apparent care or concern for the aerodynamics of the situation or anything but staying more or less out of view of anyone on the street below. 

Avoiding the street view is good. 

The part where now he’s essentially laying on top of Kon is . . . less good, maybe. 

Maybe he won’t have to convince Kon to go supervillain, at least. Maybe Kon’s already there. 

“Where to, daddy?” Kon asks with a smirk, keeping one arm looped around Tim’s waist and folding the other behind his own head like he’s laying out in a lounge chair on the beach. Tim thinks longingly of smothering him and also of getting him to take down his TTK so he could bite a hickey or five into his neck. Maybe six. He could probably do six. 

Or seven. 

“Northeast towards Broad Street,” Tim says as he tips his head in the appropriate direction, then pulls up the camera again and snaps a quick shot of Kon’s smug smirk, which immediately breaks into a surprised laugh as the other flushes again. 

He takes a picture of that too. 

“You flirtin’ again already, man?” Kon asks with a sheepish little laugh, like the bastard has any room to talk. 

“The position’s pretty good for it, that’s all,” Tim says with a level of casualness he absolutely does not feel. Kon flushes darker and bites his lip again, still just barely grinning. Tim, ethically, has no choice but to take a few more pictures. 

“Oh my god,” Kon says, laughing again and unfolding the arm he has tucked behind his head to hide his eyes behind instead. Tim is maybe a little bit too aware of the line of his throat under the neck of his shirt, without his eyes and the sparkle there to be distracting him into a useless stupid mushbrained might-as-well-be-a-civilian, observationally-speaking. “I’m not a building, you absolute nerd!” 

“I said I liked people-watching too, didn’t I?” Tim points out reasonably, though mostly his brain’s occupied with the question of–“Hey. If you let down your TTK a bit, could a baseline-DNA human give you a hickey? Like, is that physically possible, or are you too Kryptonian for that?” 

“Oh my god,” Kon repeats, laughing harder even as the flush on his face spreads down his neck. Tim wonders how warm that might feel under his mouth. “I, uh–dunno, man. Maybe?” 

Tim silently resolves himself to finding literally any excuse to conduct that experiment and moves a hand to cup the side of Kon’s throat, eyeing it consideringly. Kon makes a slightly weird noise and visibly swallows, and Tim belatedly realizes that he’s paid literally no attention whatsoever to whether or not they’re about to hit a building or a flagpole or a roof this entire flight; he just assumed Kon had it handled. The Bat-paranoia kicks in and he glances up reflexively, and just as reflexively slides the pad of his thumb across Kon’s pulse. Their flight path is clear; they’re high enough to avoid most of the buildings in this area. Definitely still gonna need to keep an eye out for radio towers and billboards, but . . . 

Kon swallows again, the gesture a little bit rough this time. Tim feels the other’s throat flex against his palm. That sure is . . . that sure is a thing that Tim feels right there. That invulnerable throat flexing right there against his palm, and maybe not necessarily having to be invulnerable, if Kon didn’t want it to be. 

. . . . . . he already said he didn’t have time to learn anything new about himself tonight, dammit.

[chrissdollie]

warnings/notes: suggestive, matt x tumblr writer reader, no smut (but there will be soon), unedited, incomplete, nicknames (baby, babe)

matt sighs, boredly scrolling through his phone while you are sound asleep next to him. your boyfriend uses his free hand to gently rub up and down your thigh. the morning sun tries to peak in through the dark curtains, but the room is still dull. comforting though. especially with the sounds of your soft snores, matthew couldn't be any more comfortable.

that is until a few minutes pass, and he decides to open an app called tumblr that he "jokingly" installed not too long ago. a small smug grin spreads onto his face as he searches up "matt sturniolo x y/n". many results come up, some sweet and fluffy-- and others disgustingly filthy. on camera, matt would completely disregard any "you should read smut" comments... but he can't help and listen to the inkling of interest inside him.

he finds a random blog where he scrolls down to the pinned introduction post to find where all of the fics may be. you sigh sleepily, matt's head immediately snapping to you with wide eyes. you reposition yourself slightly and fall back into your deep slumber. your boyfriend wouldn't want you to know about him reading dirt. especially if it's about him!

he looks back down at his bright phone, scanning the introduction post quickly. he pauses all of a sudden. "yn?" he thinks to himself, his eyebrows pinching. but they quickly rest again, there's no way you, his sweet little angel baby writes nasty smut. and plus, plenty of people can have the same name as you.. right?

he taps on a link that says "about me" which brings him to a cutely decorated page. it's very girly-- definitely reminds him of his unaware girlfriend sleeping right next to him. he reads through the bullet points that include: your age, where you live and where you're from, and a list of things you love! this has to be you. not to mention, your profile picture is your favorite photo of him. he'd know, the physical picture is in a cute frame right next to your side of the bed.

he doesn't feel too embarrassed about wanting to read imaginary sex scenes anymore. matter of fact, he feels like a saint compared to you, who actually writes them! he finds your "masterlist" and it's an entire page just about him. he taps on the first link that reads "daddy's home".

in the years he's known you, including the HOURS of time you two spent having fun in the bedroom, he would've never expected to see kinks like these! by now, he's already gone through most of your fanfictions under the category of "smut". so far he's read drabbles of daddy/breeding kinks, bondage, roleplay, age gaps, sub!matt (this got him feeling a little tingly), and more. he wears a smug smirk on his face as your pretty eyes blink open.

"hi babyy.." he coos sweetly as if he hadn't read your dirty thoughts for almost an hour. he brings you into a warm snuggle, his hand caresses the back of your head while you yawn into his bare chest. "sleep good?" matt asks in his raspy morning voice. "mhm.." you sigh, holding onto him like a koala. the smug shit-eating grin is back on his face when he randomly says, "i found your tumblr."

your body tenses. oh shit. you've been caught. there are two things you can do here: play dumb or ask him if he liked what he saw. you lift your head to look up at your boyfriend. comfortingly, he looks amused. before you can speak however, he reminds you of what you've written. "yeah i read all of your kinky shit. i didn't think you'd be into some of the stuff i saw there, babe."

you feel your arousal sticking to your panties. you gently bite down on your lip, bravely staring into your lust-filled boyfriend's eyes. you seductively lean up so your mouth is only an inch away from his. "so what're you gonna do about it?"

THERE WILL BE SMUT TRUST BUT THIS IS ALL IM GIVING FOR NOWWW!! UH NOT PROOFREAD LIKE ALWAYS XX

[fookingmuffins]

it's time to go

James potter x reader

Summary: Angst. You love James, but it's time to go.

Warning: cheating, screaming and James being a dick.

A/n: lmao I really ran after posting like 4 fics, but I'm doing a little better and even though I'm stressed with uni I've been dying to write something, so I hope y'all enjoy. (This actually took me so long to finish and i dont lobe the ending but i needs to move on, oops)

You sighed as you prepared to open the door to the house you shared with James. Once upon a time, you would've rushed in without a second thought. But lately the war had taken a toll on the two of you. Once happy moments were now filled with fear and dread, making you feel like you were drowning. And no matter how hard you tried to hold on to the love of your life, you could feel him shutting you out. James had always been an open book anyone who ever met him knew that, but lately he had built this wall meant to keep you away, only you. At first, you tried to understand and be patient considering everything you two were going through, but after countless fights of you begging for him to talk to you, you were tired. You squeezed your eyes shut once before pushing the door open and plastering a fake smile in your face, maybe today would be different.

"Jamie, I'm home, I brought your favorite from the bakery by my work!" you shouted into the house buy were greeted with only silence. After checking the house you realized you were alone which immediately sent you into a spiral of worry since James was supposed to be here an hour ago but deciding that maybe he had gotten caught up with something you tried to ignore your panic and start getting ready for your friend's Alice’s engagement party.

You heard the door open and close while you were finishing up with your hair, causing you to get up and genuinely smile when you saw James make his way to the bedroom that the two of you shared.

"I was wondering where you were, I got you some pastries they are in the counter." you tried, but he just gave you a tight-lipped smile with a wave before passing by you to your shared bedroom. You went after him and saw he was getting ready to jump in the shower. Figuring it was going to be another quiet afternoon, you sat at your vanity staring at yourself in the mirror holding back the tears threatening to spill and ruin your makeup and just prayed that at the wedding maybe you two could have fun like you used to. You didn't even realize how long you sat there until you heard James get out of the bathroom and start getting ready, and you decided to just get dressed too and sit by the window with a book while you waited for James to be ready.

"Are you okay?" You were broken out of your train of thought by James’s question.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be. " You answered, giving him a similar smile to the one he gave you when he arrived.

"I don't know, you just keep staring into space, and it's kinda creepy." he tried to joke, but what once would've made you smile and roll your eyes instead caused a knot to form at your throat again, and you felt tears prickling your eyes once again.

"Well what am I supposed to do is not like I can talk to you anymore James you always shut me out, and I don’t know what to do anymore to get you to bring down the walls that keep shutting me out! I don't even know what I did for you to shut me out!" You couldn't help but let out everything for the millionth time, hoping that maybe today would be the last time you two were having this conversation and that he would finally open up and let you two go back to normal.

However, you soon realized that it was only wishful thinking because James immediately lowered his head and mumbled "For fuck's sake y/n not this again"

"Yes, this again, James! Please talk to me! Stop shutting me out, please!" you were a sobbing mess by this point, begging him to let you in, not caring if you ruined your makeup.

But James just shook his head and walked out, "I'll wait for you in the car while you get cleaned up, we can't do this right now, or we’ll be late." just like that, he left you alone frozen with mascara running down your cheeks. You felt numb and just quickly tried to clean up but when you were done and staring at your reflection stare back at you with puffy red eyes you just felt pathetic.

On the way neither one of you talked James kept his eyes on the road while you looked out the window too lost in your thoughts to realize your usual music that would usually be playing while the two of you drove was not playing, James realized, and he felt like he was suffocating in the empty car ride.

The wedding was beautiful and despite your problems you couldn't help but imagine that one day it would maybe be you and James standing in an altar professing your love in front of all your friends and family. You turned to look at him as Alice and Ben were sharing their vows, only to catch him staring at Lily, and she was staring right back at him. You felt something break in you as confusion overtook you. Why is he looking at her?

Was she the reason that you were slowly getting kicked to the curb? Back in Hogwarts everyone knew that James was obsessed with Lily but when she finally gave him a chance things just didn't work out. Then you caught James's attention, and the rest is history.

You tried to focus on the happy couple in the altar as the ceremony came to an end, but you felt someone was stabbing you and twisting the knife.

By some miracle during the reception James asked you to dance which shocked you, but his eyes seemed so sincere and like they were almost begging that you couldn't help but to foolishly be filled with hope once again. As you took his hand, he genuinely smiled at you again the way he used to with that same boyish grin that made you fall for him 5 years ago.

The two of you danced in the center of the dance floor spinning and laughing around, you had not been this happy in so long. After a particularly long fit of giggles, James pulled you closer and looked into your eyes with a spark that the two of you hadn't shared in months. When you two were about to lock lips, someone cleared their throat besides you two and the two of you pulled slightly away.

"James could I have a word with you please?" Lily asked looking at James who immediately pulled away from you and went with her after telling you he'd be right back. Just like that you were brought back to reality the cloud 9 that you had been in for a little bit long gone, and again the sinking feeling invaded you, feeling like you were drowning. You needed a drink.

You went to the bar and after getting your drink you decided it wasn't enough, and you needed air. You walked out of the salon where everybody was and made your way to the garden, and that's when you heard it.

"James! You said you two were over, but it sure as hell doesn't look like it! I can't beli-"

"I know, I know, but I can explain Lily please! I-I-I came here with her because she was embarrassed to come alone, so I promised this would be our last outing together." You felt your heart stop, air getting caught in your throat.

"What? That doesn't-" Lily started as you felt the glass in your hands slip and shatter on the ground.

Both of them froze and looked at where you were standing, you could feel a knot forming in your throat but glared at the pair in front of you with tears forming in your eyes.

"Y/n I can explain!"

" I think both of us want an explanation, James, but she deserves it more. Y/n/n I'm so sorry I had no idea you two were still together." Lily went to walk away and James was about to chase after her when she heard you scoff and as you turned around.

"Say goodbye to Alice and Ben for me, would you? I have to go." you rushed out before basically sprinting to the nearest exit, hearing James chase after you, which wasn't hard considering he was taller than you and an athlete. He grabbed your arm when you two had made it to the parking lot and turned you around.

"So that's why I'm getting the cold shoulder." you blurted out before whatever he was able to utter whatever shit excuse he was going to tell you. You almost wanted to laugh, which made you feel like you were insane, but you thought about all the hours you had spent over the past couple of months looking in the mirror trying to see what was wrong with you, overanalyzing every tiny detail in your face. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying everything you had done that day that might have set James off.

"No no baby, I swear it's not what it looks like, Lily is just bitter we didn't work out, and she's trying to sabotage us! I've just been so stressed because of it, and I am so sorry I let it out on you."

"Bullshit James! You were literally just talking shit about me before i showed up and ruined your little act." You were seething by this point, and James flinched after your outburst. You had never been one to scream, and he knew that, but right now you honestly felt like nothing was the same and you weren't the same. "A-and you wanted to chase after her and you know what? maybe you should. Maybe you have a better shot at getting her back because we are over James Potter! I-I am so tired... I-" You were crying from all the different emotions you were feeling at that moment. Finally getting some enlightenment about why your relationship was dying gave you some relief of the crushing pain you were feeling being hunted by the "what if's" and "why's" you weren't the problem.

James tried to get close and wrap his arms around you. god he felt like an idiot for hurting you. He honestly doesn't know what he was thinking. He had hoped you never found out and had planned to break up with Lily soon enough, but he just needed to explore a little what it could've been like if he had stayed with her. Plus the thrill of it was something that James had loved for the time being, but he never wanted to hurt you. His heart broke at the sight of you, he couldn't imagine what you were feeling.

"Don't even think about it! Don't ever touch me again don't ever look at me, I hate you so much Potter, I don't want to know anything about you from this day on James! We now mean nothing to me, we are strangers!" You glared at him in a way he had never seen you look at anyone, and felt his heart drop.

He tried to protest, feeling the tears leave his own eyes at the idea of losing you completely forever. But you just turned around and walked away.

[skitskatdacat63]

One makes him up, so the other can break him down.

This is a little terrifying but hello!! Posted my first fic on ao3!! I would've saved the illustrations for the fic's eyes only, but I'm too happy with them haha. Hope you'll still go on to read regardless!!

As always, my thoughts and progress, since I can't help myself:

I'm soooooo proud of these. I never ever really do dramatic lighting, so I'm really surprised that I pulled it off.

It's surreal actually posting this because for a while, I've thought about how if I ever post a fic, I'll have to make illustrations too because I can't do anything not full force. Look at me now! I'm shocked. Also didn't think I'd finish it tonight, but here it sits before you nevertheless(though as always, I'm writing this past my bedtime before class, time efficient as always.) So with that being said, here are some notes, though if I had known I'd be writing this so soon, I would've prepared more lol.

First of all, I hope it's clear both of these are Mark's perception. Gah, the fact that his face is the only one you can see clearly. The first is obviously him unwillingly fantasizing about what exactly went down last night.

Aghhhhh the difference in colors and settings of the two drawings is so important to me. The warmth and intimacy of the bed behind curtains in the first one, and the coldness and openess of the second. It's so clear Mark feels like he's been distanced, like he's been ousted. It's like he's been thrown outside on a cold winter's day, no longer able to feel the heat from the comfortable warm stove inside.

Mark was probably assigned to Seb bcs he has a much greater appreciation for the Spanish etiquette, which Seb has very little interest in. He'll abide by it when he absolutely has to. But he's just a very non-typical Emperor. People find it charming so it's not a public death sentence for him, but it is an issue. Thus, Mark is there to keep him in line. Though important to note that when Fernando, who has an equal if not greater respect for the showmanship of etiquette, realizes Mark is interested in that as well, they start warming up to each other.

The inherent disrespect of Fernando just. Throwing Seb's clothing onto the floor. Meanwhile he probably took like, 20 minutes folding his up(that's what Seb was gonna tell Mark at the end of the fic.) Borderline ripping off Seb's clothes only to edge him. Its not even like the ripping off the clothes is because of passion or anything, he's deliberately being an asshole. Don't worry Nandl, Seb's turned on by it!

So sorry to marknando fans if their dynamic feels like a complete 180 haha. Its not like I'm like, they actually hate each other!! It's just their relationship under completely different circumstances. They're like two dogs in a dog fight, they don't have any real reason to hate each other, but they're put against each other regardless. They don't understand their hatred, just know that they have it and that they're supposed to have it. The inherent hatred the mistress has for the spouse, and vice versa. If they actually were able to talk without barriers, they'd realize they actually get along pretty well. They kinda just hate each other because of their respective relationships to Seb. And then there's Seb who's mostly completely oblivious to his effect, though of course plays with it a bit.

Seb's marriage completely recontextualizes their relationship in Mark's eyes. Though there's something incredibly sado-masochistic about the way he can't blame Seb for it at all. He's a loyal dog after all. But when it was just them, he was obviously Seb's main companion and lover. Seb definitely slept with people on the side, but Mark brushed that off: 1. Bcs its very period typical. 2. He was the main, they were the side, what more needs to be said! But now *he's* the side piece, and is left wondering if their relationship was down to proximity alone. Not to pull a Mark and completely excuse Seb, but it's not. Just very different perceptions of love and relationships. And again, as I've mentioned before, he was raised to always be the most important person in the room, so he obviously has very different understandings, especially since he's always the center.

NANDL!!!!!! In my Habsburg book I've been reading lately, they randomly referred to one of them affectionately as "Nandl" and it's stuck in my head ever since. Can we start a movement to canonize that as an official Fernando nickname? I'm sooooo fond of it, I litrally ended the fic that way just so I could shoehorn that nickname in.

Speaking of the ending. It was really tough, I almost wanted to have Fernando burst in, looking for his ring, and then coming across whatever that is. But I didn't want to disrupt their moment anymore, it felt cruel. Though shame I couldn't mention that the reason why Seb's pants are nowhere to be found is because Fernando accidentally put them on and didn't realize till he was out of the room.

*I FORGOT TO POINT OUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS! Truly the danger of writing a post while falling asleep. There's something so incredibly funny to me the way they're talking so refined and then Seb just throws out: "that guy." It's a way to show his own disrespect of Fernando, not even using his name, implying he's just some guy(nur ein Kerl.) I laughed writing it cause it reminds me of the random dry humor anecdotes I've read lately.

[beanghostprincess]

NOOO THIS IS SO SWEET I'M SOBBING 😭😭😭💙💛💙💛💙

I swear I absolutely love all of your asks (and in fact rn I finally finished replying to most of them yay!! Keep sending me stuff, I LOVE IT!! Makes me have more motivation to write, really) but even though I love them, post them on the tag too!!! We're always complaining about Sanuso not being a popular ship so!!! We have to work together so people will be interested in it!!! And besides, most of these ideas are SO good I often find myself thinking you all should have your own interactions out there!!! It's not even because I'm tired of replying to asks (I love it, keep sending them), but because I think you all would be sooo great on the tag!!

TL;DR: I love all of your asks, keep sending, but also you deserve to have your own recognition too and your own posts!! That way we can also fill the tag with more beautiful content 💛💙

Guys. Listen. Guys, LISTEN. I know we have our CEO of SanUso @beanghostprincess who is a talented writer with a big brain but please give her a break! You’re posting so many FANTASTIC ideas in her inbox but she’s just one person!

This ship clearly has more supporters and talented creators than we think, so let’s introduce ourselves! Fill the tag with your own posts about Sanji and Usopp pining, angsting, or being silly! Sign up for the OP Exchange! And if you really want her to see, you can tag Nixie when you’re done. I just think it’s so much more fun for us to share our ideas with everyone in the tags rather than put so much pressure on one person.

BTW: Nixie didn’t ask me to make this post, nor was she aware that I was going to. (In retrospect, I probably should’ve asked beforehand but I felt exhausted on her behalf, let me know if I should delete!)

I’m not trying to be negative in any way, I just would really love to see all of your ideas in the tag!! Everything that’s there inspires me so much, so I want to see all of the other ideas everyone has!

Peace, love, and SanUso 💛💙

[slackerlifewhere]

Cale Henituse and Kim Rok Soo

After I posted yesterday, I saw an opinion that I kind of agree with about the difference between Cale Henituse and Kim Rok Soo.

I'm gonna say my opinion without trying to offend the whole fandom. Again, you can read fics about OG Cale as MC. I will not stop you just because I have my own opinion. You are free to read whatever you want. If you don't agree with this, it's fine and if you do, don't antagonize or attack the fanfiction authors who made these fics. Let them do their own thing, okay?

This post is not a rant but me sharing my own thoughts and opinions about this topic.

To make this easier, I'll call OG Cale as Cale and OG KRS as KRS.

[✋SPOILERS for the first part of the novel✋]

Some say that Cale Henituse and Kim Rok Soo are the same person. While I don't know if this is true because I haven't read the second part of the novel yet, in my opinion, they are not the same.

Again, I repeat, I like Cale Henituse. He's very intelligent and kind to Basen to the point of destroying his own reputation, he targets thugs and scammers whenever he's "drunk", he's willing to sacrifice his whole identity in order to save his world after surviving for twenty years by himself. He's a complex character and in another world, if given the chance, he would've been a great MC.

But that's the thing, he is not the MC of TCF, Kim Rok Soo is. And I think some fans forget the reason why Kim Rok Soo became the MC and not Cale Henituse. Because in some fics that I see whenever I scroll down to look for something to read, Cale completely replaces KRS' presence in the story, to the point that he doesn't exist anymore.

Let me explain.

Kim Rok Soo

Kim Rok Soo is a very integral part of the story. You can't easily replace him with another person, normal or otherwise, and expect the story to go the same way it did in the novel. He did things his way because he's a chaotic little shit. He's a different person from Cale, no matter how many or few similarities they both have.

It's not because he's simply smart or OP (as some would say) that he won a war that ended in only two years, but it's also because of his past and the bonds he made as himself.

He's a person full of empathy for these people that he meets wherever he goes, regardless whether he knows them from a book or not, because he understands them and their pain. He does not hide his personality and in a way, his charisma attracts these people who see him for who he is, a kind person.

Kim Rok Soo is different because he survived in an apocalypse by himself until he meets Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo. Plus, he did not have a great childhood. He was abused and lived by himself for the rest of his childhood and teenage years because of a curse (or maybe because his uncle is just a shitty person, who knows).

The opinions he has and the way he thinks are shaped by his own experiences. He is the Kim Rok Soo we see in the novel because he grew up under these circumstances.

To say that he's easily replaceable would be too disrespectful to the sacrifices he made as both Kim Rok Soo and Cale Henituse.

Cale Henituse

Cale, on the other hand, is different. He lived alone for how many years because he deliberately pushed everyone away because of his grief and after what Jour told him. It's not because of a curse that he became this way but because he chose to.

Yes, everyone he knows should've tried to make an effort by comforting him or talking with him (his family, the nobles he's close to, Ron and Beacrox) but that did not happen because he's the one who chose to live like this. I've mentioned it in my post about Deruth but if a person doesn't want comfort or doesn't want to talk, they will not talk, especially someone as stubborn as Cale. To blame all these people (including the kids) and the rest of the world because of his own choice is simply not right or fair since the only one responsible to actually help him is Deruth. Violan is not given this chance nor did she try as his stepmother but it all comes down to Deruth. But of course, he did not get any help nor did he seek any.

He lived his years shrouded in grief until the very end. He's a kind person but unfortunately, life is not kind to him.

Later, he survives in the war until the White Star kills him. What did he choose to do in the end when he made that deal with the God of Death? To return to the past so he can save everyone? No. Instead, he chose to go to KRS' world to find his mother. If CJS were given the chance to decline a proposal, why didn't Cale? He could've said he'll do it himself but instead, he left it to KRS. We all know he's stubborn enough to ruin his reputation, is he not stubborn enough to make a deal to save his world as himself?

You can argue it's maybe because the God of Death didn't give him the chance to argue with it but there are other ways the god could've sent KRS to this world. Like Choi Han or Choi Jung Soo.

Choi Jung Soo

Choi Jung Soo is a prime example of what could've and couldn't have happened if he agreed with the God of Death's proposal. He is not KRS. He has his own opinions and experiences that make him unique. He is not like Choi Han who drowned in his despair in TBoaH but instead, is a man who wants to survive with his friends (brothers) and smile with them despite the pain he suffers in.

If he were to replace KRS, the story would've gone differently. He might find Choi Han and they would do their best to survive in this new world together. He may or may not find Raon and the kittens, depending on the time and location when he arrives in this world. Alberu may or may not completely trust him like how he didn't completely trust Choi Han in TBoaH because unlike KRS who is too similar with Alberu, CJS is different. He might not look for the ancient powers since he has his own ability, leaving some that the White Star could've taken like the Sky Eating Water and Super Rock. In fact, the shield could've been left at the tree unless CJS knows about it and takes it. (Let me remind you that no one in this world knows there's an ancient power in that tree in the Henituse territory.)

I can list down things he could've or couldn't have done but it might be too long.

But my point is, it could've been Cale, Alberu, or Choi Han who were sent to the past but the story would've gone differently because these people are all different in their own ways. Heck, if the God of Death truly wants to save this world, he could've sent back Choi Han or Alberu instead of Cale. Because these two are also powerful in their own ways that do not need the help of ancient powers. Just give them enough information and they could've ended the war faster than twenty years.

Conclusion

So, yeah. Kim Rok Soo became the main character for several reasons. He was an ability user and team leader back in his world, he has the curse attached to him because of the White Star, he was an abused kid who had a sad childhood.

And I think there are other reasons why, if KRS is not the MC, that the story could've ended differently. Put aside Raon who is powerful and has a connection to Sheritt and the Dragon Slayers and would be integral to the story, On and Hong could've died with no one knowing about them because they were barely mentioned in the books. Mary could've stayed in the City of Life because no one would need her to help Ron. Hannah and Jack could've died because no one would've known that they were killed. Paseton has a chance to live but no one knows where he is.

Some characters would live and some would die if Kim Rok Soo is not the main character. That's basically what I think about all of this.

The reason why they survived, aside from the books, is because Kim Rok Soo's heart is so big that he wants to help people or give them the chance to survive. Some people would ignore or not notice these people because they have their own problems to deal with.

But Kim Rok Soo just wants to live. And I think that's why the story went the way it did.

Kim Rok Soo, the man who became Cale. His life motto was pretty simple.

Living long without pain. Enjoying the small joys of life.

Living a peaceful life.

- Chapter 2: When I Opened My Eyes

Again, I'm not stopping you from reading these fics nor am I telling you to attack fanfic authors because of what they write. This whole post is just me sharing my opinion.

You don't have to agree with anything I said. You can ignore this and read whatever you want to read.

This is not a post undermining or disrespecting what Cale sacrificed and felt as a person. This is a post to share my opinion that Cale and Kim Rok Soo both deserve the respect that they should get for everything they did and to not completely erase a character for the other. But if someone does it, then I can't do anything about it.

As a Mob Psycho 100 fan, I will end this with one line that perfectly summarizes what I think about this topic.

Your life is your own.