#and then acts out of such hatred *because* he loves his people so much

[maxwell-grant]

Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Noriaki Kakyoin

I really like that he's a bastard, might actually be my favorite thing about him. He's designed to be "the thin and sensitive one", he's made to be pretty and attractive to an extent the others aren't, and of course he's given a very sympathetic and tragic backstory and death, but a lot of the time the spotlight's on him, he's kind of a mean jerk but in a really understated fashion that makes it funny. There is a line of succession among Araki's pointedly villainous heroes that starts with B.T and is embodied in the current protagonist Jodio, and I think Kakyoin is in there, predating the likes of Rohan and Giorno. It's not for nothing that he is our first villain Stand user, and why they make a point of contrasting his charming honor student personality with his horrible gross tentacle puppet power.

I also like that this ties into his prideful personality, and the reasons why he's tagging along to defeat DIO. He's a guy who's grown used to being disconnected from people and ostracized and self-reliant (much of what I love about Death 13 retroactively is that it's hitting Kakyoin hard with this before we understand why this is a personal button for him, and it's not a beat that would work with the other Crusaders), having maybe the closest bond with his Stand that we see among the Crusaders, and his dynamic with DIO is interesting to me because he blames himself for falling victim to DIO more so than he blames DIO for it. It comes up more prominently in the D'Arby fight and the finale that he's pushing through not just a deep fear, but also a form of self-hatred whenever he thinks about what DIO did to him. He feels ashamed and humiliated and even abused, even knowing about DIO's power and the flesh buds and having seen others in his situation, seeing what happened to Polnareff and Enya, and it doesn't really dissuade him from this thinking.

It's that whole speech he gives to Jotaro in his debut about how evil is determined by who wins and who loses: people tend to forget it because he's being brainwashed, but the flesh bud doesn't alter personalities like that, Polnareff refutes this in his first encounter. That wasn't the fleshbud, that was Kakyoin talking, and he'd come back to that sentiment later. He lost to DIO, nothing else mattered, he was the loser and thus the evil one. And so he wants to make up for it, to stand up to DIO again and not give in, to be freed from him. He's constantly putting his friends first during the journey but at his most personal, when he's steeling himself, he thinks back to that and swears to overcome it. People talk a lot about how Kakyoin was a mega hit with the female demographic because he's pretty and charming in a way the sweaty buff men aren't and because he makes a good pair with Jotaro, and okay sure that's part of it, but I think the fact that his arc being that intimate, that tragic, and panning out into a story about overcoming abuse and standing strong in the face of your abuser, even if all you can do is save others from him, that was the secret ingredient. Intentionally or not, that stings pretty deep.

But mostly I like him because he is a bastard, and he's the character who's not supposed to look or act like one, so the fact that he is makes it better. "Tricking your friends into feeding a baby his own shit" is not a beat that would work with the others, or even something you could land, no matter how evil the baby was, if the guy doing it wasn't capable of selling it as a cool and funny and karmically satisfying thing to be doing.

[waitineedaname]

I am thinking about scar all the time but unfortunately I cannot transfer any of those thoughts into the intelligent and coherent analysis he deserves, so instead you guys get stuck with all my thoughts about idiots (greedling)

[mostlyanything19]

Oh you guys weren't kidding, the Ashton/Percy confrontation is fantastic

[criminalamnesia]

everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

[kinopio-writes]

Hi! Would you be willing to write something for Adam with a sensitive reader?

Everyone knows that he is loud-mouthed jerk, even reader, and she loves him regardless, but one day he crosses the line and says something particularly mean that makes her cry. Like REAL mean. To the point that he pauses because he did not think before speaking (or, well, less than usual lol)

I'm happy with whatever format you feel like using! Thank you!

A/N: I will be more than delighted to write that for you. But would you excuse me for a moment? AHHHHHHDISJDIOEOFJSKXJND—I’m sorry; I love this idea so much. Reading ‘Adam with a sensitive reader’ got me hooked instantly. But I’ll go over that in the headcanons, along with the general stuff. And I’ll add a oneshot at the end that plays the exact scenario of Adam taking it too far.

Holy sh!t. I made it so that the reader being sensitive is their greatest but also weakest point and it turned out pretty angsty. Has a bit of hurt/comfort, though. Did I go overboard? Maybe. That’s why it took so long. Sorry, anon.

Words: 2,328 (edited the end a bit because it didn’t sit right with me)

Warnings: Sex is mentioned (only a bit, surprisingly), Angst, Adam being Adam

———

Adam w/ a Sensitive!Reader

• ha, this man is also sensitive himself

• well, sensitive about himself

• he feels his own emotions strongly, so he’s not the caring, easily able to pick up on other’s feelings and empathize type of sensitive

• you, on the other hand, are on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to Adam

• so you experience other people’s emotions just as strongly as yours

• you easily know what makes someone tick

• you’re selfless

• you’re able to admit your mistakes and apologize

• you’re respectful and actively listen to people when they talk about themselves

• you don’t push people down to make yourself seem better

• you try to make everyone feel good and comfortable

• you’re everything he isn’t

• because you fit in Heaven perfectly

• you deserve to be there

• and Adam knows that he doesn’t belong (subconsciously at least)

• you’re able to draw people in just for being yourself

• and he’s envious of it

• so he demeans you and is snarky about everything you do, and every time people give you praise or affection, he tries to divert the attention to himself or just stares at you with utter hatred from afar

• although all of that is just when he hasn’t even had a conversation with you

• after a while of being around you, he’ll cling to you because you give him the reassurance and validation he oh-so craves (he acts as if he didn’t hate you before. What do you mean? You two were always buddy-buddy!)

• you acknowledge all of the things he puts his worth to

• heck, you hang out with him—you sometimes even initiate it—willingly, and you’re genuinely interested in everything he has to say

• but he‘ll only hang out with you where no one recognizes you (so you don’t get all the attention)

• terrible transition here, but he notices that you mimic people’s expressions often

• he definitely makes fun of you for it

• and also mocks you

• up until he realizes that you do the same thing to him, too

• which is fine and all, if only you didn’t do that when he’s upset

• well, you mimic him when he’s joyous as well, but he (already subconsciously) expects you to. I mean, why wouldn’t you? He’s fucking hilarious!

• so you copying his negative emotions just stands out more

• and he…doesn’t like it

• that’s only really what he doesn’t like about you

• and the fact that you hog all the attention

• and the fact that people see you as perfect…

• buuut what happens when he gets to see a new side of you that isn’t exactly upholding that image?

———

Your phone lit up from your bedside table, brightening your otherwise dark room along with the soft glow of your halo. You only moved your eyes to the light, not wanting your tears to spill and dampen your pillows.

You had an inkling as to who was texting you this late—if the fact that your phone lighting up several times in the span of 5 minutes had anything to say.

When the texts stopped pouring in after a few seconds, you heavily sighed, wings ruffling. You resisted the urge to rub your face as you went to grab your phone.

HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) ARE YOU UP? (2:35) I’M BORED (2:35) GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE (2:36) IF YOU’RE UP (2:37) ARE YOU? (2:38) DID I TELL YOU THAT BITCH WITH THE HUGE TITS GOT FIRED TODAY? (2:39)

Figured. Of course, it was Adam. He was the only person you knew who’d be awake at this ungodly hour. And the only person you knew who’d disturb your peace if it meant curing anything that ailed him. Which was now about boredom, it seemed.

You read a few of his texts displayed on your lock screen before tapping one of the notifications and opening the app, scanning the rest of the unread messages.

Adam was going on about ‘that bitch with the huge tits’—her name was Tiffany, you were sure—and how she was rumored to have slept with an archangel to assume higher authority. He also went on to complain about how he didn’t have the chance to bed her anymore since she was basically deemed an outcast and that he couldn’t be seen with someone like her.

You frowned, not believing any of it, but you didn’t have time to think about it enough when he began typing again.

SO YOU’RE AWAKE (2:43)

You barely finished reading the new message when another one popped up.

DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH (2:43)

You frowned deeper, quick to type out a reply.

i’m not (2:43) i was just reading your texts (2:43) don’t worry (2:43) i’ll be there soon (2:44)

When he stopped typing, you placed your phone back on the nightstand, sitting up on your bed as you carefully wiped away your teary eyes. You hugged yourself for a moment, wings functioning as a cocoon while a hand tugged on your hair.

Today had been draining—both mentally and emotionally. Just like the day before, and the day before that. But you didn’t want to think about it, lest you start to cry some more and smear your face with tears this time. What mattered was that everyone was back on their feet again.

Since you didn’t bother changing into your sleepwear when you got home, you only checked your face in the mirror to see if your eyes were puffy or not. You then took in deep breaths, holding up your drooping wings before putting up a charming smile.

You couldn’t stay in the bathroom for long, quickly leaving to tread the path to Adam’s.

•••

“BOO!” Adam’s masked face suddenly peeked from the corner of his hallway, earning an indescribable scream from you as you jerked back. He burst out laughing, brows creased in confusion but also amusement. He couldn’t even make fun of you for getting scared. “What the—what the fuck was that scream?”

Recovering rather quickly as you blinked, you only smiled at him. You were expecting him to wait for you on his couch as his front door was left unlocked, but you weren’t complaining; his action took away any drowsiness you just had.

When Adam didn’t hear you laugh with him, his laughter subsided as he opened his eyes to look at your face. He raised his brows and placed the back of his hands on his hips. “What’s up with you?”

Shit. There was no way Adam was seeing through you.

“Nothing; I just love hearing you laugh.” You heard a tiny squeak in response. “Anyway, what did you make me come over for? Surely not just to scare me.” You moved past Adam and tightly crossed your arms, entering his spacious living room.

“Pshh, fuck no. You’re so easy to spook. Though that was a first. Didn’t know you could hit high notes, (Name).”

You didn’t know what to say to his…compliment? And sort of insult? Was it really either of them? Should you thank him? But in a sarcastic way? No, you weren’t known for being sarcastic, so he might think you were being genuine and look at you weirdly. And it would also seem highly egotistical.

Not as if Adam had much to say about that…

You tugged at your hair when you caught yourself with those thoughts. Shit, that’s so rude! You can’t think that! You shouldn’t think that!

You settled on an awkward chuckle, making yourself appear smaller as you averted your eyes to his TV space.

It was different, certainly. The modular couch pieces were rearranged into a pit sectional. And it looked as though he had chucked a bunch of pillows and one large blanket as an afterthought. It appeared messy, but at least it looked cozy.

“What’s this?”

“Hm? Oh, well, since you were taking your sweet ass time coming here, I thought to switch things up a bit.” You flinched when his head appeared right on your shoulder. “What’d ya think?”

“It looks super comfy.” Adam wore a goofy grin behind you as you walked closer to the area and noticed that he already prepared snacks on the low table. “Is this a way to say you wanna do a movie marathon?”

“You know it, baby.” He flew past you and landed on the sofa, patting the space beside him with a smile you just couldn’t reject.

•••

Heaven’s natural light beginning to peek through the open windows indicated that it was already dawn. Thank goodness you didn’t have work today.

You two—or rather, Adam—had settled on watching the film series, Die Hard. Every single one. You didn’t mind, but you didn’t understand why Adam invited you over if you two were just going to rewatch the film series for the eighth time.

He had also been pretty immersed in the large screen in front of him, so he hadn’t attempted to converse with you ever since the first movie started. In all honesty, he could have just watched them all by himself.

But you didn’t question it. This time was the same as the last seven, after all. You always concluded that maybe he just wanted someone to watch movies with, no talking necessary. Even if the no-talking part sounded a bit out of character.

Was it though? Because he did that quite often. For instance, he constantly brought you along to whatever mundane errands he had to do during the weekdays and never really talked with you unless he found something cool and pointed it out.

Although, the earlier times you tagged along with him on his errands, he kept yapping his mouth off about the ‘totally awesome’ things he does. He talked about music, his own albums, his band, women, sex, and himself as the first-ever man.

As time went on, however, the talking was replaced with silence. You wondered if he just ran out of things to say or if he found it unnecessary to talk anymore.

You also sometimes wondered what was going through his head when he thought you didn’t see him glancing at you while he was doing something he believed was boring.

The sound of Adam’s stomach rumbling broke you out of your train of thought.

You both looked at each other blankly as if either of you were to blame.

He blinked to break the eye contact between you. “(Name), I’m hungry.”

You snorted, facing ahead. “You ate all of our snacks before the first movie even finished.”

“Don’t blame me.” He hugged the pillow he held tighter. “I’m still fuckin’ hungry, though.”

You hummed as you reached for your pocket. “Do you want me to—oh. I…I forgot my phone.” You frowned. You never forget to bring your belongings.

Adam merely stared at you, unblinking.

You averted your eyes and held your legs tighter. “Uhm, We could get delivery if you want. Can you lend me your phone?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He casually tossed you the device before laying on his back and looking up at you. “I’m down for anything.”

His phone hit your knee before you could catch it, silently landing on the cushions. “Are you sure?” You picked it up, opened his unlocked phone, and stared at his basic home screen.

He didn’t really use his phone that often to know that it could be changed. He only really used it to fetch one-night stands or occasional dates, text, play music aloud, look at outdated memes, take random blurry photos, and right now, order delivery.

“Totally.” His crow’s feet displayed on his mask as he puffed out his cheeks.

“Because last time you said that, you didn’t like what I had to pick.”

“That’s because the 5 ʼn 2 is so fucking overrated!” he suddenly started to complain. Your wings ruffled. “Jeez, I swear, every fuckin’ time I take a chick out and ask her what her favorite eatery is, basic bitches always go, ‘Oh, bREaD & fIsH, ceRTAinLy’ or ‘bReAD & FiSh’S a cLAsSIC’” He used his hand as a puppet to imitate their words before waving it. “Like, helloooo? Can’t you see the joint that’s literally on the other side of the street’s a hundred times superior? It’s cheaper, too, unlike Bread & Fish. Overpriced ass. You get me, right—?”

“Then you pick!” Adam jumped at your volume, and your eyes widened upon noticing yourself. You quickly gave back his phone as you turned your face away from him, and he slowly took it with a weird look.

“Shit, chill, (Name). The fuck’s up your ass?” He kept his gaze on you before turning to his phone.

While he was serious about his opinions of your bland tastes, he didn’t think it was that personal. Your preferences were the same as everyone else and that was boring. He was just being honest. And you usually didn’t take the things he said that seriously.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” you spoke up after a moment of silence and ran a hand through your hair. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“ʼs not a problem.” He was still a bit weirded out, but he was willing to shrug it off.

You insisted, however, “I mean it. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay…?” he muttered when he saw a notification pop up from Lute. Her message consisted of how some of the exterminators got into a quarrel during roll call and the ones involved got injured in the process. She said she was going to discipline them.

Adam did not want to know what she meant by that and was most likely not going to stop by their place today.

“Really. I’m not. Sorry. It’s just that yesterday’s been…”

“Uh-huh…” At this point, Adam was not listening to anything you were saying. But when he still heard the static noise that was your words, he groaned. “Look, sweetie, I really don’t give a fuckin’ shit about your fuckin’ apology, ʼkay? I don’t fuckin’ care. Now what do you want?”

You saw Adam’s confused yet concerned expression after he looked up from his phone and immediately noticed that you were starting to cry. You instantly turned your face away as you carefully wiped your eyes.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not crying because of you.” You didn’t know if that was true. You didn’t know if you were crying because of his words or were crying because of everything else.

That was the first time he ever used a sweet petname for you in a long time. He only ever used that to demean or mock other people.

Shit. Stop thinking—you were going to cry more. But even after carefully wiping your eyes away, new tears kept flowing. You couldn’t stop. This was humiliating. You wanted to disappear. You didn’t want anyone to witness you in this state. It was mortifying.

“Shit.” Adam’s voice came out panicky as he held his hands out towards you, but he hesitated. Hesitated in what, he didn’t even know.

He…didn’t think you could cry.

Adam didn’t know what to do; this emotional shit wasn’t his thing. He couldn’t ask you to leave, he knew that much, but he didn’t want to leave himself. This was his place. Why should he leave?

So, he did the only thing he could do in this situation.

You suddenly felt something warm envelop you.

You didn’t look up, but you knew it was Adam. You could feel the texture of his robe on your hands and the side of your face. You could feel his hands on your shoulder blade, but you couldn’t quite feel his arms on you.

You stopped wiping your eyes for a moment.

No one had ever hugged you before when you were sad.

No one had ever let you be sad.

Adam heard you sob.

Fucking great. He made it worse. What the fuck was he supposed to do then?

But when he went to unwrap his arms, he felt yours slip around his midsection, pulling him closer than before as he grunted from your firm hold.

So you wanted to be hugged? Alright. Whatever.

Adam slowly hugged you back after you muttered a ‘sorry’ and loosened your grip.

The next seconds were silent, so when he heard muffled words coming from you, he looked down. You also looked up moments later when he didn’t respond, realizing he must’ve not heard you.

Your gaze softened as you two held eye contact, and with teary eyes, you smiled. “Thank you, Adam.”

Something about his expression changed, but before you could stare any longer, you felt a hand behind your head push you back to his chest as the arm on your back held you tight.

“Yeah, whatever…”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 16] Justifications

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Mrs. Gojo’s first reaction to finding her son in the hospital room isn’t one of worry– Rather, she’s curious. She wonders if you told him; she doubts you’re dumb enough to actually tell him, but he got here somehow. Instead of wondering how he found out, she should worry about how she’ll explain everything to her son. She can’t just throw you under the bus… Well, she can but it wouldn’t be right for her to do so.

Satoru is sitting down, his hands on his knees as he looks around the room. He contemplates everything. He questions every single relationship that he has. Shoko knew, and his mother, but who else? How many people are betraying him? How many people know the fact that he has a son? 

The man is nauseous at the mere thought that they faced him as if they weren’t hiding something that could turn Satoru’s life upside down. He hears his mother’s heels as she walks towards him but he can’t bring himself to look up at her. He’s never had a close bond with his mother, and at times he’s hated her presence; but nothing compares to now. Satoru has never hated being her son until now. 

“Satoru.” She doesn’t try to soften her voice when she talks to him. She probably should. She feels the hatred that radiates off her son, and she knows that maybe she should console him. She’s mostly at fault for how things played out. “How did you end up here?”

“That’s what you say.” His voice breaks and he takes a deep breath to compose himself. He won’t start crying in front of his mother, she doesn’t have to know how heartbroken he is. She should have an idea though because it’s no easy feat. “You knew about my son, you hid him from me on purpose, you let me find out on my own and your response is that.”

She stays quiet. Satoru will continue speaking and she won’t interrupt until he lets it all out. “I always knew you weren’t a star mother, but this? You’re the worst mother I’ve come across. You hid my son from me, and for what? Because you didn’t want your ideal plans to go to the trash?”

“You’re almost twenty-seven and you act like a child. You wouldn’t have been able to step up to the role. I did what was best for you, and for Ren and his mother.” She argues and he feels his blood boil. He’s never been so mad in his life.

“I wouldn’t have been like you. I wouldn’t have thrown my son to the help and let them raise him. I’m nothing like you, I would’ve been able to step up to the role. Ren would’ve actually felt me being present, and I would’ve loved him as much as I possibly could.” Satoru’s nails dig into the fabric of his pants. “No one is ready to be a parent. You learn along the way. I would’ve and am going to try my best, the same way you should’ve.”

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have your precious job title, Satoru. Watch how you talk to me.” She warns him, ignoring the guilt that runs through her veins. She focuses more on the fact that her son gives her attitude. 

“This is what you wanted! You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d give up everything for him. I knew you were fucked up but to this extent? You’re a wretched woman, I’m ashamed to call you my mother.” Satoru raises his voice, and silence follows. She doesn’t know how to answer. Satoru clears his throat, “For how long have you known? For how long have you known I have a son?”

“Almost a year.” She confesses, and maybe Satoru would’ve easily let it slide if it was something more recent. Well, she hired you for a reason, she’s known for as long as you’ve been working with her. Satoru takes a deep breath, trying his best to hold back the tears that fill up his eyes. 

“Shoko knows. She told me. Who else knows?” He asks, speaking slowly to contain his feelings. She shrugs, she doesn’t know who else knows. 

“I have no idea. I didn’t know Shoko knew.” She responds, walking over to stand next to Satoru. He glares at her, standing up. He can’t stand to breathe the same air as her for another moment. She watches him walk away and she asks, “What are you doing? Now is not the time to throw a tantrum.”

“A tantrum?! You hid my son from me and you’re calling this a tantrum?!” He yells. “You’ve known about my son for a year, you asked for him to be kept from me, and you’re calling this a tantrum? You’re fucking unbelievable. This is all your fault. You’ve been set on making me miserable ever since I was born.”

“Calm down, Satoru.” She says, and Satoru has to take another deep breath. He doesn’t even know how to respond to her. How dare she even suggest that? She must be out of her damn mind– No, she’s evil. He’s convinced she’s fucking evil.

“I’ll never forgive you for this. This is so fucked up, even for you.” Satoru steps out of the room. He needs a breath of fresh air, and he needs to take it all in. Gather his thoughts. 

He’s a father. He’s been one for the past four years. How does he handle it all? His mother betrayed him in the worst possible way. You betrayed him the worst possible way. But Satoru can somewhat understand why you stayed quiet. Not her though. Both reasons are selfish, but her selfishness is pure evil. 

“Satoru.” He hears your mother, and he stops walking. The tears that he’s been holding back finally slip out, and he wipes them away as your mother walks to him. Her hand goes to his arm and she squeezes it as a form of reassurance. “Let’s go grab a coffee, there’s a coffee shop nearby that’s open.”

“Yeah.” He tries to talk normally, and she gently smiles at him. They walk outside and Satoru follows your mother’s lead to the coffee shop. They walk in silence, and when they get there, Satoru pays for coffee for the both of them.

Once the coffee is in their hands, they sit in silence at a table. They came here to talk, yet Satoru is not going to spark up the conversation– At least Satoru assumes that they came here to talk. Your mother clears her throat, “I hope you can forgive my daughter for this… At the very least see her point of view.”

“I’ll try at the very least… I just thought she would try to tell me. I’m disappointed… and feel betrayed.” Satoru confides. He’s always felt like he could talk to your mother, she’s always been someone he can trust. He never went to his own mother for help, instead he went to yours. “I would’ve done anything for Ren, she knows I’ve always wanted to have a kid.”

“I remember the day my little girl called crying, telling me she was pregnant. Her boyfriend just broke up with her and she didn’t know how to tell him. You were out of town, your mother fired me– I told my daughter I quit, but it wasn’t that. Your mother didn’t want me around, she started hating me the moment my daughter started to date you,” Your mother begins and Satoru listens attentively. 

“She tried to tell you, Satoru. You changed your number. You completely cut her off. She went to your house, and guess what your mother said to my pregnant daughter?”

“That I got married.” Satoru mutters, looking away since he’s too ashamed to look her in the eye. 

“And you know the damage that caused? She cried for weeks, but she managed to move on. She couldn’t dwell on you forever because she had a son to be responsible for. Maybe she should’ve told you when she saw you, but I understand she didn’t need you anymore.” 

“I didn’t get married because–” Satoru begins but your mother cuts him off. She doesn’t want to hear any justifications, she really doesn’t see any response that will make her feelings change.

“I don’t care why the hell you got married. I was rooting for you, Satoru. I was rooting for the two of you, but you showed me that you’re just like your selfish entitled family. You made me change my mind, you’re the last person I want near my daughter and my grandson.” Her words sting more than anyone’s because the woman that sits across from him practically raised him. “But I guess I have no other option. You are Ren’s father.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, causing her brows to raise.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” She answers before standing up. Satoru watches as she walks away, biting his quivering bottom lip. He shuts his eyes, trying not to begin crying in front of everyone. 

He’s tired. He should probably go home and take a nap, but he promised his son he’d be there when he wakes up. So he won’t leave until Ren sees him. Satoru stands up and goes back to the hospital.

You don’t talk to each other when you’re with Ren. Ren is filled with love, from both of his parents and grandmothers. He’s never been with them all at the same time, and he’s excited to be with them all even when he isn’t feeling too well. His father seems to have a lot of questions though, but Ren likes the attention.

Ren gets to talk about his birthday (which surprises Satoru since they have the same birthday), his favorite color, his favorite show, his favorite toys, what he does when mommy is not home, what he does when mommy is home; Satoru tries to get to know all about Ren in a couple hours to make up for the past four years of his life. Satoru is overwhelmed with sadness, yet he’s never felt so happy before as he sits on an armchair, next to his baby boy. Ren holds his father’s hand, smiling when he’s never felt worse before. He’s just happy to meet the man that he’s been asking about.

Satoru spends the entire afternoon there, listening to Ren’s every request. He expected to spend the first day with his son in the hospital but not under these conditions. Regardless, Ren could be a newborn or a four-year-old, Satoru loves him either way. 

Ren yawns, and Satoru sheepishly smiles. He kisses the top of his son’s head. “How about you go to bed, buddy? You’re tired.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Ren says, and Satoru squeezes his hand. You swear you hear your heart break as you hear Ren’s words. You definitely fucked up.

“I’m not leaving, Ren. I’ll be by your side when you wake up, I promise.” Satoru assures him, and the man stays by his side until Ren finally falls asleep. Satoru doesn’t let go of Ren’s hand. You sit in silence for a moment as you try to decide what you’ll do next. Should you speak? Maybe you should… But what should you say? Maybe you should apologize, but you don’t have the guts to do it. 

“Who else knows?” Satoru whispers, not wanting to wake Ren up. He doubts that Ren will be waking up any time soon though, no matter how loud he is.

“Shoko and Suguru. And everyone that works at your house.” You answer. “I asked them not to tell, and I lied to Suguru so don’t be mad at them.”

“Did you… At least try to argue with my mother about telling me?” He hopes that you’ll say yes, so at the very least he can feel like you care about his feelings. He wants to hear that you tried a bit more. He’s filled with disappointment when you shake your head. He looks away from you, and back at Ren.

“How are you going to tell your wife?” You ask, and Satoru shrugs. That isn’t his main problem right now. Sayo can wait.

[r3ynah]

What's wrong with clones? what's wrong with me?

Dani was greatful for her mom, she was greatful that he was supportive and living when she first met him, and even after the fight she was happy that Danny didn't throw her away with hatred in his eyes, she would've understand it nonetheless, just imagine someone assaulting your DNA to make a copy of you? it was traumatizing or the both parties, based on experience.

But if it wasn't for Danny, she wouldn't be here at this place were she stands. It has been about 20 years since she was born, and her mom step backed from heroism and passed it down to her which she accepted with pride. Her mom deserves a break.

And without her she wouldn't be part of the Justice League, and wouldn't be meeting all this amazing people, they have loved dani and took care of her ever since she joined. and she was happy. what more could she ask for? well she was a bit lonely afterall.. and that was selfish of her, she already have her mom, her friends, what else could she even ask for?

__

Dani, Hero name Wraith, walked down the halls of the watchtower when she heard a ruckus in one of the meeting rooms, letting her curiosity get the best of her she took a peek in the room, where she found a bunch of Heroes surrounding a boy that looks a little too much like Superman. and Superman in the corner holding his head in stress? Agony? Dani doesn't know.

She stepped into the room, only for Wonder woman to notice her, She gave Dani a wave which she returned with a smile, she moved near Wonder woman in curiosity and asked: "What's going on? why's the Adults surrounding a kid?"

Wonder woman looked at her with a stare she didn't understand, before she answered. "He's a clone of Superman, we found him trying to kill the man, just last week, and this is the first time he's let out." She explained while pointing at the kid.

Dani let out a gasp of delight, "Really? Holy shit. I got to talk to the kid!" Before Diana could stop the girl she was already at the new clone's side, pushing the other heroes away.

The Clone angrly stared at the new person, infront of him. "What you'll interrogate me too?."

"What? Why would you think that?" Dani giggled as she circled the boy, her eyes darting back and forward to superman and the boy to see the similarities. "Ancients, you really look like Superman, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean by that?" The kid asked very confused.

"I mean you're healthy and fine, i don't get why the league is going haywire towards you." Wraith chuckled, as she floated upside down infront of the kid.

Silence embraced the room, as the sound of a steel chair echoed throughout the room.

"Didn't you hear what Wonder Woman said Wraith?" Superman walked big steps towards the two making other heroes take a step back, from the man of steel. "It's a clone."

"okay, Okay, Wait i feel i said something wrong?" Dani returned to her normal position, making sure she's not levitating upside anymore as she looked at older man infront of her in confusion. "What's the problem here?"

The room was quiet huh that was unusual with, there was a thick atmosphere that you can cut it with a knife.

"The problem? This is the problem." Superman angrily stated as he pointed at the kid, who looked ready to fight the man infront of him any second now.

"What? superman i don't get its just a clone and a child-" Wraith was cut off rudely. by the man infront of him.

"Ofcourse you don't get it, you don't get how it feels to be cloned, you don't get how traumatizing it is for your DNA to be stolen, That is not a child." Superman snapped, making Dani take a step back. "So stop acting like its a normal kid, that thing will never be like us, because its a mistake created by some lousy villain, who tried to stop and kill me, clones don't deserve love nor respect, and they certainly don't deserve families. Now Stop acting like you get it."

Silence, surrounded the room as Superman finished letting his anger out at Wraith who stared at him wide eyed confusion seen her face, she looked at her peers who only looked apologetic and those who looked down the floor and then there was batman

she shifted her gaze towards the, boy who she can see was trembling, The boy was crying. oh no. no. please don't cry.

"I get it." Wraith stated, keeping her ground, only babies cry she wasn't a baby now, she grew out of that phase.

She returned her gaze back at Superman who still was looking at her. it really looked like he didn't mean to snap at her. But that shit Hurt who knew he had it him, is this what Danny felt when he found out about her, was he in reality sick of her? no. No. Danny loved her, he said so himself.

"Wraith please no-" Wonder woman, called out trying not to get the girl in more trouble.

"No. I get it. I'm really sorry for you Superman, and how you got traumatized by some of your DNA getting stollen, I am really. But with all due respect you can't treat him like a thing, because he's a clone." Wraith spoke back, now more confident than ever. the kid perked up from this and raised his head, he was really crying.

"And what do you know about that? Wraith." Oh no Hero names, She knew she struck a nerve, Superman was back at being angry.

"What I know, is that you're right, clones don't deserve love and respect, clones don't deserve anyone because all they do is hurt and destroy." For a second everyone thought Wraith changed sides. Wraith glared at superman, he wanted her to agree with him, oh she'll agree with him alright. "Clones like me, don't deserve anything."

"What?"

Everyone in the room was shocked but to scared to speak, afraid to start something.

"Thank you, Superman. For showing me that I didn't deserve my mom, Because to be honest you're fucking right, all I did for my mom was pain and agony." Dani was now raising her voice, at the man infront of her.

"You're a clone?" Superman managed to ask, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

"Hell yeah, And you know what age he got me. Fourteen, He became my mom at the age of fourteen, he took care of me at the age of fourteen, he loved me like his own daughter at the age of fourteen" Wraith laughed out loud, tears threatening to stream down her face. "You know what's funny superman? I tried to also murder him, I tried to also kill my template. And yet he took me in, and said that it wasn't my fault. it wasn't my fault that i was born, It was never my fault, he comforted me as i cried to him about my other brothers who i watched slowly die and melt apart infront of my eyes, he didn't hate, he didn't isolate, he only loved and cared."

Wraith was now crying. as she gritted her teeth.

"Wrait-"

"you we're right. I didn't deserve my mom. if he had just killed me from the start, he would've been more happy and not worry about me, My mom is the kindest being in the world in my own eyes, and he'd done everything for me ever since he was fourteen." Dani looked down at the ground, with clenched hands. "I was born as a six years old, but in reality i was only two months old. it's funny how im the same age right now when my mom first had me. My body maybe 20, but my brain is 14, keep that in mind Superman."

She looked around her peers, but couldn't see anyone but her reflection in those glass walls, she's crying, she didn't want to cry. "You've been hating on that kid, but Superman let me remind you that kid." She looked at the child who was still sitting on the chair but now with a look of confusion, eyes red from crying. "Is only a few months old despite its physical appearance, you've been hating on a newborn baby, like a deadbeat dad, and that's just sad."

Dani can hear a snort in the background. She swore that sounded like her mom.

Superman looked defeated and guilty, Dani was tired she wanted to cry, in the arms of her mom, but she can't leave the other kid here, so she made a rash decision. "If you don't want him, I'll take him."

Protest engulfed the meeting room, but Dani didn't care, she passed Superman and headed towards the black haired kids, direction. "Wanna come with me?" she asked, while having her hand out for him to take.

The kid looked at her hand, before grabbing it. Dani smiled and summoned a portal, she took the kid with her, her mother's not gonna like this and she might take a break from JL a couple of months, Oh well its all worth it.

[shadesoflsk]

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind. 

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president. 

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer. 

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works. 

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why. 

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain. 

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness. 

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human. 

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes. 

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition. 

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be. 

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers. 

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that! 

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now. 

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed. 

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk. 

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. —  He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows. 

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes. 

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words. 

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon. 

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before. 

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter. 

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s. 

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you. 

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face. 

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone. 

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment. 

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead? 

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her. 

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air. 

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you. 

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret. 

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air. 

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest. 

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his. 

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception. 

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.” 

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body. 

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end. 

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him. 

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair. 

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it. 

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day? 

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax? 

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that. 

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus. 

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact,  you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out. 

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was. 

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it. 

But right now he wants to be a child again. 

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary. 

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body. 

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted. 

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up. 

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed. 

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced.  You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend. 

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying. 

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek –  you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it. 

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way. 

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago. 

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep. 

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.” 

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.” 

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.  

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming. 

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love. 

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone. 

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside. 

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others. 

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off. 

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world. 

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe. 

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence. 

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs. 

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task. 

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist. 

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch. 

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length. 

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you. 

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant. 

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace. 

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love. 

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs. 

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face. 

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax. 

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands. 

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while. 

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand. 

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side. 

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose. 

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny. 

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him. 

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him. 

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions. 

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.” 

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism. 

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there. 

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night. 

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture. 

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.” 

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now. 

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him. 

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat. 

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?” 

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on. 

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

[k-hotchoisan]

7 minutes in heaven (Mingix fem! Reader)

Synopsis: a game of spin the bottle lands on you and Song Mingi for a dare of 7 minutes in heaven.

Right. We all know what’s coming.

Genre/warnings: sexual tension, sex, obviously, unprotected sex, orgasms, hickeys, cream pies, dirty talk, pet names (princess)

Word count: 2.3K

A/n: I just found out like what 7 minutes in heaven meant from my friends and I was instantly like “it’s basically sex???” Bro she was just tired of me at this point.

Also this is pretty fucking filthy. I would love Song fucking Mingi to ruin me like that too. ❤️

Spin the bottle, spin the fucking bottle.

“Oh come on. Just fucking come!” San whines. “You have me there! And Song Mingi is coming!”

“Song Mingi? Why the hell is he going?” You whip your head at San.

“‘Cause he’s Yunho’s friend?” San answers matter-of-factly, scrunching his eyebrows at you. “And he’s your crush?”

“Oh my god, San. Fuck off”, you wave him off in annoyance. As much as he was right, you hated that he was right. You and Mingi’s friendship started through mutual friends, and for some reason, it seemed that you fell for him during the course of the friendship. And you hated that, because the basis of the friendship was just extreme playfulness and constantly getting on each other’s nerves.

On that one time when Yunho teased Mingi about the both of you being a couple, Mingi smacked Yunho, outright denying any ounce of feelings between the both of you.

So now, it was two things—seething hatred and an ugly crush—the biggest paradox of feelings you’ve ever had. You spent the past few weeks lessening your meet ups with Mingi, and he didn’t question why.

And now suddenly a party that he’s gonna be at? No fucking way. San doesn’t relent though, for some reason he was hell-bent on getting you to come, and he wouldn’t tell you exactly why.

“What would it take for you to come?” San questions as he leans into your shoulder, giving you the puppy eyes that could never out-do Yunho’s.

“Five hundred bucks,” you answer, pinching his nose as he winces in pain, slapping your hand away.

“Yeah right”, San rolls his eyes. “I’ll introduce you to someone, okay?”

That isn’t the main point but you sense San’s sincerity, so you decide to humour him.

Little did you know that it would snowball to whatever had happened.

Your arm is hooked around San as the both of you enter Yunho’s spacious apartment, greeting the people as the both of you slither past them to look for the host. San spots Yunho from a distance and waves to him to get his attention. Yunho turns his head and pats the guy beside him to get his attention.

And it was Mingi.

Mingi has an unreadable expression the moment his eyes land on you, noticing your hand around San’s arm. He gives a small smile as the both of you walk over to greet Yunho.

“Hey. I’m glad you made it”, Yunho greets, giving San a hug as San removes himself from you, and then patting your head. Mingi still has his eyes on you, and you pretend not to notice.

“Yeah, I had to hold her at gunpoint for her to come”, San jokes, using your head as an arm rest. You roll your eyes.

“Damn. You really didn’t want to see me that much?” Yunho asks, pressing his palm against his chest, acting heartbroken. You playfully give him a light shove.

“It’s been awhile, y/n. Nice seeing you again”, Mingi chimes in, giving you a smile. You stare back, exchanging a small smile back at him. It had definitely been a couple of weeks since you contacted him, since the bullshit he spout.

“We’re going to play Spin the Bottle now, and you came just in time for that. San, y/n, you wanna join?”

Your gaze holds Mingi’s, almost challenging him and your grip tightens around San’s arm.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

A circle quickly forms as everyone sits, there is about seven people in the circle, a mix of girls and guys, including you and Mingi, both of you sitting across each other. The game goes on pretty normally in the first hour, but as the drinks started flowing in, the questions and dares starting getting more spicy.

In the fourth round, the bottle spins, and it lands on Mingi.

“Truth”, Mingi says.

San pushes the question, “Have you liked anyone in the friend group before.”

You don’t catch Mingi’s gaze at you because you were too busy whispering something to San.

“Yeah.” A few “ooohs” echo in the room and you purse your lips in curiosity.

A few rounds later, the bottle spins, and it lands on you.

“Truth”, you say.

Yunho rubs his hands. “Is there anyone in the room that you wanna kiss?”

Fuck. The alcohol was definitely kicking in, but not enough for you drunkenly answer right away. You really wanted to lie.

Everyone had their eyes on you, curious of your answer, especially Mingi. He’s quiet, his gaze piercing into you, and you catch wind of it. Your anxiety slowly dissipates as you decide to be smug with that motherfucker. You know he’s gazing at you, and you hold the stare before shifting your gaze to San, who was fighting for his life with the alcohol, before saying, “Yes.”

Considering that your small gaze towards San wasn’t missed out by majority of the players, they laugh and clap their hands, evidently fooled by you. You smile as you sip your alcohol.

The bottle spins. And it lands on Mingi.

“Dare”, he says, almost too confidently.

Hongjoong immediately pushes, “Seven minutes in Heaven, to whoever the bottle lands on.”

Mingi scoffs, feeling confident, as he reaches for the bottle to spin it.

It spins, and it the neck lands on you. Your eyes widen in shock because you really did not expect that. Mingi has that unreadable expression on his face again, before Hongjoong smacks his back, reminding him of his dare. The players roar in excitement and whistles.

Seven minutes of being trapped in a room with each other.

Your mind is racing, but you tell yourself, anything could happen, including non-sexual things. The both of you could just sit alone together, albeit in a little bit of awkwardness, and just wait for the seven minutes to pass. Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.

You and Mingi stay seated on the bed of a guest room, not saying anything to each other.

Seven minutes start.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asks after long pause.

“No?” You lie too quickly.

“Then why haven’t you been replying to my texts? We used to hang out so much.”

“I was just busy.”

“Liar.”

You glare at him, and he holds the stare.

“You’re finally looking at me properly”, he says, and your heartbeat ups another notch.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Not really. You couldn’t really blame him, but at the same time, what happened genuinely did make you upset.

“No”, you reply, turning away, only for his fingers grab your chin.

He sighs. “Please stop looking away from me. It’s driving me crazy.”

Good. That’s cause he deserves it. The way his fingers are pressing onto your chin was starting to make you heat up.

“No. It’s mostly a me problem”, you vaguely tell him. “You sure you’re okay with doing this when you have a crush within the friend group?” You ask, as you lie onto the cold sheets.

Mingi doesn’t answer you, but he towers over you, looking at you with some sort of lust and desire—it was looking very dangerous.

“I’ll answer you non-verbally, if I get your consent”, he responds, his breathing getting heavier. You decided to take him on and nod.

He leans in and kisses you, feeling every part of your mouth, as he groans into your mouth. The alcoholic taste lingers, mixed with his saliva, tasted strangely sweet. He pulls your shirt off as you unbuckle his jeans.

The way his wet and leaking cock presses onto his underwear fucking scares you because he was so fucking big. He tugs your bottoms and undergarments off, almost too desperately, then soaking his fingers with his spit as he starts rubbing your clit slowly. Electric pulses through your spine, in pleasure as your back arches, and soft moans are leaving you.

He plunges in both hands when he deems you wet enough and you cry out as his fingers curl into you.

Five minutes.

He continues to fuck you with his fingers and you hands claw his arms, desperate for something more hotter, and bigger.

He pulls out, leaving you clenching at nothing. Mingi’s underwear is removed way too quickly and you gasp at his length and girth. He was not fucking around. He wraps his hands around his cock and pumps it a few times, giving you a small show of his groans and small bucking hips.

Four minutes.

Mingi lift your legs to his shoulder as you lay on your side as he slides his cock into you, before fucking you into the bed, his grunts and moans filling up the room. Fuck. His cock is too fucking big. It’s just dragging against every single nerve in your wall. Your hands were gripping onto the sheets, as you fail to keep your composure, and your moans.

“Fuck. You’re so tight”, Mingi exhales as he pulls out before slamming into you again as he drinks your whimpers and cries. “So fucking good.”

He lets your leg fall, and he fucks you from behind, his hands gripping your hips. Your limbs were starting to feel numb from the pleasure. He stops for a second before grabbing your waist, to put your back to lie against his chest. This only fucks up your sanity because his cock was stuffing your wet and abused cunt from the bottom.

“Mingi, it’s too much—fuck—so fucking big”, you cry out, your mind going hazy as he sucks against the skin on your neck. Your head was lolled back, and your eyes are rolled back too, feeling nothing but the sensation of Mingi’s cock going in and out of your hole, as you cream on his cock. Fuck, it felt like heaven.

“Such a good girl. Keep moaning for me”, Mingi hums as he, himself, also was struggling to form coherent thoughts as you were squeezing him out. His moans were trapped in your head because his lips were close to your ear. His fingers pinching your nipples before slapping your cunt gently, causing you to squeal and tighten around him and his voice goes up and octave.

“We have three more minutes,” Mingi says, his eyes glancing at the small timer facing the both of you. “We should really at least finish it with something good—like this”, he says as pushes into you so deeply and your body becomes paralysed, his cock slightly bulging your abdomen, your mouth is open but no sound is coming out. Your thighs tremble as tears pool at the corner of your eyes. Your pussy flutters around his cock as your orgasm hits you in waves. Mingi thrusts in you shallowly, his full cock still deep in you.

“Y/n, you’re creaming so much. It feels so fucking good. I’m gonna cum too, Princess”, he encourages, rubbing your clit in slow circles, tightening another knot in your abdomen.

Two minutes.

Mingi just wants to continue fucking into you until he’s satisfied, and once you feel his cock twitch in you, you know he’s close.

“So tell me, who was it did you want to kiss between the guys?” He suddenly asks, slowly decelerating his thrusts, and you were about to lose your fucking mind.

“Was it Choi fucking San?” He asks, his fingers cupping your chin to ensure you face him. He smiles, loving how fucked out you looked, ruined by him. “Tell me, princess.”

He pulls out in such a slow and painful speed that your thighs tremble from the way his cock just drags against your walls.

His grip on your cheeks lower to your neck, and he gently squeezes.

“Answer me”, he demands.

One minute.

“Fuck—it’s you. It’s fucking Song Mingi!” You cry out, craving his cock to fill you up like cockslut you were.

His eyes grow wild as he lets go of your throat , his hands slithering to your bottom of your thighs, spreading them even more as he bottoms out in you, slamming his cock right into you until you start seeing fucking stars behind your eyelids.

“Good girl. Take my fucking cum”, he says as he fucks into you one more time, his cock squirting strings of cum right into your pussy as your second orgasm overwhelms you, leaving you whimpering and shaking from the overstimulation as Mingi empties in you.

The timer goes off, the alarm annoyingly loud. Mingi gingerly pulls out of you as you twitch, and lets your head rest on the pillows. Your cunt was still throbbing, as it flutters at nothing while Mingi’s cum leaks out of you. He looks at you and smirks, like you are his favourite masterpiece. He inches forward and presses his lips onto yours as he strokes your hair.

“That’s my princess. I think it’s pretty obvious but I like you. I really, fucking like you”, he confesses. As you were about to reply through half-lidded eyes, the door knocks.

Mingi pulls the sheets over you before answering the door. Yunho had his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. He spots you heaving softly against the guest bed and immediately puts two and two together.

“She’s not playing anymore,” Mingi answers, blocking his view.

Yunho scoffs. “Took the both of you fucking long enough. The tension was crazy. We’re going to get more drinks so the both of you can continue your own little game.”

Mingi laughs as Yunho leaves, before shutting the door behind him.

He stares at you, curled up in bed, still looking dazed, and walks over to you. He pulls the sheets off, and a mix of his cum and your arousal just dripping past your inner thighs, red flushing your ass and your cheeks.

Mingi licks his lips, suddenly hungry again as he towers over you to spread your legs once more, pushing in a finger way too easily, the sounds of his cum squelching out of your pussy as your eyes roll back again. His fingers cup your chin, forcing you to face his lustful gaze.

“Seven minutes are up but now we’ve got all the time in the world, princess. I’ll show what real heaven feels like.”

[mysacredmuse]

hello!! can i req some hcs w aventurine?

ykw how his eyes are so bright n pretty? imagine s/o just staring into them and admiring them instead of harassing him n stuff... i think its so cute

his eyes are so captivating!!! s/o just grabbing his face and staring at his eyes silently LMAO, n hes just like ??? what

i'd imagine s/o rambling about the colours of it n everything, esp as an artist myself haha im literally in love w them

hello there !!! of course you can, I absolutely love this request :) as soon as I saw him, his eyes caught my attention, such a beautiful design !! I am not an artist, so I wish you can forgive me if I describe something poorly, but I hope it will be enjoyable for you regardless :) <3

soft bf! aventurine and admiring his pretty eyes <3, written with gender neutral reader in mind, fluff ! :)

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

he doesn't get it at first. You constantly ask him to widen his eyes at you, staring at them with a soft smile on your face. Anytime you take a picture of him or a picture together, you just zoom into his eyes and stare for literal minutes, without uttering a word. Sometimes he teases you, asking is that the only quality of his that you like, as if he doesn't have so much more beauty to offer. He will buy a new outfit, showing it off to you and all you say is how the light blue really gives a captivating effect to his eyes?

when you go to sleep, he stares into your lips in order to give you a hint that he wants a kiss while you keep staring into his eyes. He jokingly tells you that they aren't worth anything if your plan is to sell them, little creep. You just reply how they are worthy everything to you, tone quite offended which turns into an endless ramble of yours :3

you begin explaining to him how his eyes are the most unique thing you have ever seen, how the contrast of pink and blue never looks as good as it does in his eyes. You explain how pink resembles softness, warmth, femininity, romance and tenderness, while the blue contrasts it with depth, light, slight masculinity, firmness, yet safety and comfort

you continue explaining to him that the pink could easily represent a soft sunset, while the blue contains freedom and beauty of an ocean, so anytime he misses any of those - all he has to do is look into his own eyes. You explain that the colors in his eyes are quite literal epitome of love which proves that he was made out of deep love and his existence is a proof of love itself <3

he just smiles awkwardly, his heart softening from your words, but he urges you to go to sleep as you are speaking "nonesense" 😒

he finds you getting lost in his eyes all the time, sometimes having to snap his fingers in order to gain your attention. A secret he won't tell you is that sometimes he lets it go on for as long as possible as he never had anyone look into his eyes so lovingly, praise them so wholeheartedly and find beauty in them :)

you also grow a habit to squish his cheeks, enjoying how his pretty eyes widen at you from suddeness. He often acts like it's annoying him that you do that only because he gets so flustered, heart beating so fast as you stare so tenderly into his eyes <3

anytime he wears sunglasses of any kind, you immediately remove them, just blankly staring into his eyes and scolding him for hiding them away from you. You also grow a habit to point at a pink sunset that arises while mixing with blue sky at places and tell him that those are his eyes, trying to make him understand their beauty :3

through you, he learns to love his own eyes more and find pride in them. He used to avoid his own gaze in the mirror, wear sunglasses as his eyes often inviting rude comments, humiliation and overall hatred, whether it was his own or from other people. You taught him to love himself more and now he finds himself looking for clothes that put an accent on his eyes, just to hear more of your loving praises and compliments :)

[wineauntie]

"Always You" is masterful, it unlocked something in my brain and my heart. May I please request some fluff with Jack? I will leave the specifics up to you, but can it please be a dynamic where she is more like the moon (quiet, out of the spotlight)?

THESE QUIET MOMENTS — Jack Hughes x reader

summary: Jack Hughes thinks you’re like the moon, yet when you find yourself lost in the dark, you find him to be your shining light.

note: I adore this request so much, that it is 3am and I wrote this in under thirty minutes 🙏

warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, angsty thoughts soothed with fluff, Jack Hughes in love, nicknames like pretty girl, reader is an introvert.

word count: 1.6K

please excuse any grammatical errors, it is once again 3am and I’m too tired to edit!

When people thought of Jack Hughes, hockey was obviously the first thing to come to mind. That along with the thought that he was the life of any party, that he was outgoing, vibrant and a lover of all things fun. He was under the spotlight and loved it there too.

What people often failed to mention about Jack Hughes was that he was also a lover of quiet moments, moments where the world faded into silence leaving him and you in your own little bubble of serenity.

You and Jack had been dating for almost a year and a half. When you'd begun to date, those around you questioned the dynamic because whilst Jack was outrageously out there in the way he acted, and you were the exact opposite.

You were introverted to say the least, preferring a night in instead of clubbing and enjoying your solace over any form of chaos. You were more shy  compared to others, finding it hard to put yourself out there, but Jack had stumbled into your life, destined to help you creep out of your shell.

He taught you to enjoy moments of chaos and find the peace in it all (despite how contradictory that sounded) and in turn you taught him that the quiet moments were not boring but instead a necessity for sanity.

Jack adored you. He worshipped you in a way someone might worship a higher being. He was attentive and caring, always going above and beyond for you no matter the time needed or cost.

To him, you were an essential part of life.

The moon, perhaps?

Quite like the moon, your warm glow soothed every tendril of hatred inside of his body. Your effervescent and mesmerising way of orbiting his world was done in a way so natural, that he couldn’t comprehend how fitting it all was.

Soft, welcoming and hopeful.

Yes, you were the moon.

Your smile's shine acting like a light in the dark depths of the night, never fading from the moment the sun set to the moment the sun entered the picture once more.

Jack could live with the assurance that even on the brightest of days and fullest of moments, you would be there soon, blessing him with even more light to chase the dark away.

And when the night fell and engulfed the world and Jack into an endless darkness, he knew you would appear like the moon and act like a guiding light.

"Y/n? I'm home!"

Your head jerked up from your book that lay half-read on your lap as the sound of the door to the apartment resounded. You heard shuffling from the hallway as the two boys filtered into the living room, watching them appear, you stood to your feet, moving your blanket and book aside.

"Hey," you smiled, as Jack's eyes met yours, his softening instantaneously as he shifted one of his hands and wrapped it around you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Well done on the game." Your eyes flitted to Luke, who ran a hand through his curls.

"Thanks, pretty girl," Jack grinned, his grip still tight around you, as he looked down at your face-which was slowly

"Thanks, y/n," Luke chimed, before disappearing into his bedroom. You weren't offended by his lack of conversation, knowing damn well when Luke got home from a game he was wrecked and needed a nap.

"So..." Jack drawled, drawing your attention back to him. "What did you do for the evening?"

You curled your arms around his neck, as you tilted your head in thought. "Well, I watched the game, and I read," you spoke slowly, "I really didn't do much, honestly."

"You read?" Jack hummed teasingly, "What a surprise!" As you rolled your eyes, Jack lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively whilst you laughed.

Jack held you close before he plopped down on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he did so. You, now straddling him, allowed your fingers to lightly brush over his cheekbones. Jack watched you with so much care, your heart melted.

"I missed you," Jack sighed, his eyes on yours as your fingers slowly traipsed up into his hair. "Don't like leaving you here by yourself."

You ducked your head, feeling rather embarrassed. You knew that despite not voicing it, a part Jack wanted you to attend his games. You attended as many of them as possible, but the crowds mixed with everyone suddenly knowing who you were, sent your heart palpitating towards the edge of panic.

Jack understood this and never pushed for you to go. He cared more about your safety and mental health, feeling far better that you were tucked up safely at home, wearing his clothes as you watched the game on the television.

But there were times where your hidden guilt hit you like a backwards moving truck, the thoughts of disappointing him ramming through you to the point where you're entire brain couldn't focus on anything else.

"Uh uh," Jack tutted, his hand moving from around your waist, to gently hold your cheek, lifting your head from its lowered position. "What's wrong, pretty girl, where are your thoughts at?"

You bit your lip and nuzzled into his touch, your eyes closing as you relished the warmth of his touch. Jack allowed you to sink him, giving you all the time in the world to answer.

You took a small breath in before you began to speak, becoming killed by Jack's thumb stroking your jaw line.

"Does a little part of you hate me for not being more "out there"?" You asked, your voice an octave above a whisper. You felt embarrassed to ask but the wiggling thought couldn't be settled until you'd gotten an answer.

Jack tensed beneath you, his thumb halting its soothing trail as you kept your eyes closed tight.

"Never mind," you quickly continued, unlatching your arms from him and pushing yourself off of his lap. "It was a silly question, don't–"

Jack grabbed your wrist and dragged you back down onto his lap, your legs now strewn over him as he held you. His eyes had crackled with the faintest embers of frustration as you curled up into him but his sadness washed over the fire, dowsing it entirely.

"It was a silly question," Jack agreed, his arms pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. "How could you ever think I hate you?" His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, the hurt seeping through his words.

"I don't know..I just," you huffed, pressing your face into his collarbone, trying to hide from his eyes. "You are the epitome of outgoing, Jack, I feel like I'm holding you back from, I don't know, going out and living."

Jack felt his heart shatter at your small voice, his face scrunched up in upset.

"Being here, with you, is living," Jack spoke clearly, "the moments I spend with you are my favourites and push me to live. Whether it be the moments where we laugh or cry or even the silent and quiet moments, I love them all." He paused, as you raised your face.

"I sometimes think I was made to love you, that before I was just floating around aimlessly. And you? You pulled me back and everything just feels right." Jack continued. Each word he spoke was deliberate as he kept his gaze locked on yours. "I don't care that you aren't "out there", because in all honesty, I'd rather you be happy and safe, than miserable and out of your comfort zone."

"But...what about games?" Your voice trembled, "I don't go to them a lot and I know a bunch of your teammates have people there to watch."

"Pretty girl, you are always with me at games," Jack reminded you, pulling out his thin and silver chain, with a small, rectangular locket attached. The sight caused a small smile to spread across your face. You knew that if you were to open the concealed locket, you'd find his favourite picture of you inside of it.

It was the cheesiest thing you'd ever seen, but Jack wore it proudly, as a king would wear his crown.

"You are with me at every moment and yeah, maybe not physically, but I know that as soon as I walk in the door, you'll be waiting for me, wearing my clothes and sleeping in my bed." Jack's voice was lower now, "and to be honest, I prefer our quiet moments. I prefer staying in with you as you read a book and I watch a match."

"You mean it?" Your eyes shone with so much affection that Jack couldn't resist the urge to kiss you as he bent and pressed a long kiss to your pouted lips.

"Every single word of it," Jack confirmed against your lips as you parted. "I love you...I love everything about you. Don't allow your thoughts to twist and let you think otherwise."

You nodded as Jack pressed kisses all up your face before he grabbed your book from where you'd placed it down and the remote from beside the couch.

"Now, we're going to watch a match and read, because I'm not allowing our quiet moment to go uncompleted,"

You plucked the book from his hands with a nod and rush of warmth flowing through your heart, as he began to flick through channels to find a game.

The two of you settled into the couch for the evening, completely intertwined as the night wore on. Jack would glance down at you every few moments, admiring your scrunched brows and concentration.

Yup, you were his moon. It was one hundred percent decided.

Like an astronomer, he was captivated by you, but whilst he was willing to share the actual, real-life moon with billions of people, he'd be damned if he'd ever let anyone else tamper with his girl.

You were his, just as much as he was yours.

And you really wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n: I am a slut for comparing people to things icl so this ask was literally begging to be written.

[rdr2gifs]

''the morning light, when it comes to me, it was there but I could not see''

Arthur’s life was profoundly shaped by his self-hatred, lack of self-worth and disbelief in the existence of kindness in a seemingly dark and cruel world.

I strongly disagree with the statement that Arthur only became a ‘’better’’ man after being diagnosed with tb. His struggle with his true/inner self is apparent as early as chapter one. ‘’You are not who you think you are, sir… which is lucky’’

He has lived a rough life, raised by criminals and surrounded by violence ever since he was born. It was installed in him early that his value lied within being a violent enforcer and he has lived this life since, knowing nothing else. As a highly aware person, Arthur's actions weight heavy on his soul. He accepts that his actions have consequences. He knows that a person who has caused so much suffering is not meant to have happiness in life. His way of life has caused him to believe that he is not worthy of love or redemption. He doesn’t want to believe that a person like him could be capable of any good. (a thing to note here is that imo, Arthur’s actions near his death weren’t attempts at redemption but rather a strong desire to do right and possibly be his true self.) This is why he keeps living as he does as it’s the only thing he’s ever known, it’s the thing that brings him profit, praise from the person he looks up to and he is already damned so he might as well continue living this life anyway.

The internal problem Arthur faces is that this violent, cruel way of life doesn’t align with what I’d call his true self/ideals. He is torn between the harsh reality he has known and an unconscious yearning for righteousness/love. To be able to carry on with his actions he must enforce certain ideals within himself, such as: I am bad, ugly, nasty, ignorant, mean etc. He also decides to see the dark side of reality, telling himself that the world is a grim dark place and this is just as things were meant to be. This is why he feels so uncomfortable being complimented for his good deeds, because a bad rotten person like him should not be able to do good. It breaks the image he has built for himself and he doesn’t want that happening. This can be seen a lot during the ‘’Money Lending and Other Sins’’ missions where he is unusually mean (even for his standards) to each of the debtors. Imo, he acts this way because he must truly convince himself of being a terrible man to be able to carry out a job which revolts him so badly. In the last debt collecting mission with J. John Weathers, it can be seen in his face/expressions how much he is struggling to put on a tough, uncaring, heartless act. He needs to maintain a ruthless persona to survive in the world he knows. He must convince himself of his own cruelty.

''Forgive me, but that's the problem. You don't know you.''

Contrary to Arthur’s beliefs, he is a naturally kind-hearted person who is unconsciously drawn towards kindness. And yes, even before he was diagnosed with tb. This can be seen in the people he respects the most and, in his willingness to help strangers (notice how he often does unnecessary acts of service for total strangers such as: carrying their things, holding out hands etc. even though they had already troubled him). Despite the life he has lived, Arthur does not enjoy violence, he does not enjoy hurting people. He doesn’t want to dominate over others. He thinks mostly about others and not about himself. This fact alone is very telling of his character.

He writes about Charles, a man who he truly respects: ‘’He’s a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between GOOD↔EVIL that rages within me.’’ A man who is not struggling with his inner self would not have written this. To me this clearly implies an inner desire to be a better man. He writes about his mentors: ‘’I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He’s kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else.’’ Clearly showing a preference for Hosea who is of a more gentle nature and shows genuine kindness. Unsurprisingly, these are the people who see through his dumb/though act and encourage him to drop it.

When he comes across Brother Dorkins for the first time, he writes: ‘’(he)was one of those innocent people who make you feel better about human beings and about yourself a little. Must be odd to see all that goodness in the world. Place always seemed dark and brutal to me.’’ Expressing how he does not see goodness in the world, implying lack of good examples/kindness/good experiences in his life. Yet, the monk leaves an impression and imo, this encounter (seeing genuine goodness) disrupts Arthur’s perception of what the world truly is. ‘’Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may begat good’’ (what strengthens my belief in this, is the following, symbolic scene of Arthur realising the consequences of his actions right after picking up a crucifix. He was aware of them before sure, but is unable to truly ignore them now having seen it right in front of his eyes). If only Arthur was presented with more examples of goodness in his life.

''You have it in you... I can tell!''

His desire to do as much good as possible after realising he won’t live long is instant. This would not be the mindset of someone who did not already possess kindness in his heart. ‘’Know glory and forget about shame.’’ Arthur’s shame and self-loathing caused by his previous actions were what was holding him back from allowing kindness into his life. Knowing that he has limited time left has not made him into someone he wasn’t before. The diagnosis was a catalyst, allowing him to embrace that love/goodness truly does exist and accelerate the process of chipping away from the persona he has made for himself. This was a newfound understanding for him as in the past he was rejecting any notion of kindess. In himself and perhaps the whole existence of it. ‘’You keep hidden all that matters, even from yourself.’’

After being diagnosed, he writes: ‘’What kind of a man have I been? What kind of a man am I? What world is this we live in? A land of fury or a place of love? Am I being prepared for eternal damnation? Am I past any kind of saving? Is that all fairytales? Man ain’t got much good in him. I ain’t got no good in me… I don’t think and yet I see goodness. I see it. If not in me, in good folk. In Abigail and her love for Jack. In that silly monk. In Downes, I guess. Begging not for himself but for the poor, even though he was near starving himself. Maybe I don’t want salvation. Part of me has always longed for death.’’ This entry perfectly shows how deep Arthur’s self-loathing goes and just how much it has damaged him. As his journal allows a look into his true feelings, he truly does not see a single good thing about himself. He knew for a long time that the way he lives is detestable but he could not let go of it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because it’s all that he has ever known. He didn’t believe in anything else. This sudden acceptance of goodness has allowed him to see clearly, which was obscured from him before, and for the first time, enabled him to act free of past regrets for what is right.

⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

Arthur’s redemption is not about becoming a good man. It is about finding the strength to change and recognise your true self despite a lifetime of self-loathing and breaking free from destructive beliefs of the past.

In Arthurian legends a stag is a symbol of the unending quest of spiritual knowledge/enligtenment

[heartsforhavik]

yandere mk1 men x compliant! reader

warnings: kidnapping, mentions of violence and murder, stockholm syndrome, all men are yandere and ooc, implied afab reader in johnny's, implied nsfw in bi-han's, mentions of an anxiety attack in zeffeero's, tomas is a masochist, gender neutral reader, reader doesn't care that they were kidnapped

summary: the mk1 men (johnny cage, bi han, kuai liang, zeffeero, tomas vrbada) are yandere, and they just kidnapped you. but you seem to not care...

a/n: sorry again for my late updates😭 anyways i was reading a yandere fic and i was like 'i would just give up and accept my fate if a yandere kidnapped me.' so here's some hcs based on that lil thought LMAOO

↠↠↠↠↠↠↠↠↠

johnny cage would be ECSTATIC when he notices how compliant you are. thank god he didn't have to force you to accept your new life, that would've been ugly. now, he can live out his fantasy of a perfect life with you! and don't worry about your needs such as food and water, he's got the money to take care of that. besides, now you're with THE johnny cage! other people would sell their soul to be in your spot. you're grateful for your new life, right? you have to now, because johnny is so excited to start a family with you very soon, whether you like it or not.

bi-han wouldn't be surprised that you submitted to him so easily. it was a wise choice to be obedient. if you didn't, bi-han would have to punish you. and we wouldn't want that, would we? obviously, bi-han's always had the power and resources to make sure you never escape in the first place, but since you're just so calm and compliant, he doesn't have to stress about that anymore. but that doesn't mean he's entirely trusting of you yet. he would still keep his guard up for the first few months of your capture, just in case you were deceiving him with your willingness. but overall, bi-han is glad that you are so compliant. he brings you outside every now and then as a reward for your obedience. who knows, maybe if you keep up your good behavior, he'll reward you even more.

kuai liang was not excited to take you in. he knew you'd probably resist him, but it's for the best! please don't kick and scream at him, he's doing this because he loves you. he's keeping you safe, there's a lot of bad people out there that could hurt you and he can protect you from them. as soon as you noticed you were in an unknown place, he braced for an argument of some sorts, until you casually addressed him and asked where you were. kuai liang explained your situation and told you that he was doing it because he loves you so much, and you'll understand someday. surprisingly, you simply nodded and shrugged, accepting your situation and deciding not to defy scorpion himself. he was relieved that you didn't have any qualms with your new life, especially after he put so much effort into mending your new living space to your liking. he worked very hard to provide you with enough of your necessities to make you never want to leave.

zeffeero is confused at how cooperative you are. he had an entire anxiety attack before he committed the act, berating himself for doing such an atrocious thing. he would've hated for you to despise him, even though he would've understood why. fortunately, his anxieties were put to rest as soon as he saw how casually you handled the situation. even though it left him wondering if you were as mentally sane as he thought you were. but that doesn't matter, because now zeffeero doesn't have to hold back on his affections. he took your compliance as a sign that you are okay with his twisted way of loving you. now, your life within those walls is a lot more suffocating than you thought it would be.

tomas vrbada had mixed feelings about the situation. if you woke up in an unknown place, surely you'd be pissed at him. so you would probably cuss him out, or even fight him physically. tomas doesn't want to hurt you, but at the same time, he would relish in your hatred for him. for some reason, tomas would get a strange high out of your assertion and he'd feel very flustered if you were ever aggressive towards him. you could yell at him for the smallest thing, and he'd just stare at you with adoration as if he was in a trance. even though he would love for you to yell and scream at him, he would ultimately prefer for you to be happy with him and your new life. tomas desperately wants to have a normal-ish relationship with you, so it would be best if you were compliant with him. thankfully, you ended up quite cooperative with tomas, and easily adjusted to your new life. it made him so happy that you accepted him, that he spoiled you with everything you could ever want. tomas is at your beck and call, and he will do anything to make you happy. except free you.

[paracosmic-murdock]

these colors fade for you only ; benedict bridgerton x reader (part i)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: one thing worse than seeing your enemy often was living under the same roof, certainly, and you and benedict suffered from that unfortunate condition. not even the eleven years you've slept separated by a thin wall only helped you overcome that hatred, you would always hate each other. or not really, because it's too definite to say something as such when a few hours could change the meaning of until the end of time.

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, sexual tension, very inappropriate behavior for the 1810s, colin bridgerton being a little shit, two people who hate each other locked in a room, what could possibly go wrong?, nude paintings, implied smut, song: sunlight (hozier)

word count: 3.2K

❁ part ii

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

One thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how you could ruin even the best of days for him.

One thing about you is how much you loved to make him mad and see the frustration on his face.

Another thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how pathetically obsessed he was with insulting you in any chance he gets.

Another thing about you is how you were willing to do absolutely anything to bother him or tease him.

You acted like children: always arguing, always making fun of each other, always making everyone at Bridgerton House completely insane with your bickering the entire day.

One thing was having to see your enemy often. One way worse was living under the same roof.

Eleven years ago, your parents had an accident, and you have lived with the Bridgertons ever since, as your mother was Violet Bridgerton's best friend since childhood.

Devastated for years, you accompanied the Bridgertons in their grief for Edmund, which was what ultimately gave you strength to go on with your life. All of you.

But that was the very same thing that ignited your rivalry with the second Bridgerton: your enthusiasm would collide with his mourning and harsh words coming out of his mouth you had no will to tolerate.

It began with his insults to you, though you knew he didn't mean to be rude, and it was all his grief doing the talk. When you couldn't tolerate it anymore, you started insulting him back.

Then, Benedict would play pranks that went too far, and you would burn his sketches in the chimney.

Benedict started sabotaging any chance you could get to find a suitor and you would spread silly rumors about his performance in the bedroom with his friends from the Academy.

Thanks to his efforts, not even being named Diamond of the Season was enough for you to find a husband, which was already making you feel like a failure, not to mention a burden to the Bridgertons. Benedict's fault also.

“Anthony, has he come back?”

He gave you a pitiful look. “I am sorry, Y/N, but I spoke to Lord Raeken to ask him his intentions, and he said he was not interested in marrying you.”

“What?” You gasped. “But everything was going so well! He- he invited us for dinner last week! His mother and Aunt Violet befriended each other even!”

“You will not like what I am going to say.” Anthony anticipated, and you already knew whose fault it was.

“It was Benedict?! Again?!”

Anthony nodded. “I talked to him… It was a threat. He said he would fix it, and I promise you that Lord Raeken will propose to you. If not, he is not worthy of you, and that is all.”

“Nobody is worthy of me, then? He… ruined it with the Duke of Sussex, with Lord Leclerc, with the Count-, I… Why does he keep doing this, Anthony?” You whimpered. You didn't even notice when you started crying, but before anything happened, he hugged you tightly. “Has he not tormented me enough already?”

The eldest Bridgerton knew all too well of your inner motives to hate each other, but decided not to meddle in your war anymore unless it was a case as delicate as this.

“Promise me you will not ruin his latest painting, Y/N,” he begged. “I am trying to work on a peace accord between the two of you, so as long as you stop doing things to him, he will stop messing with you.”

You sighed. “If I do not marry this season, I will have no other choice but to find a job as a governess.”

“Why do you even say that?” He frowned.

“Because it has been eleven years of you sponsoring me, and I believe that it is too much time.”

“You think you are a burden for us?” Anthony asked, and your silence answered. “The day you leave us will be one of the saddest for us Bridgertons, Y/N. You are like our sister, and we love you and care about you as such. Perhaps it has not worked before, but do you really believe that a man that loves you will let none other than Benedict intimidate him?”

“Gregory is more threatening than him,” you noted. “And those dimples could melt the coldest of hearts!”

Anthony smiled. “Do not think too much of it. We shall find you a husband before the season ends.”

“Alright.”

“Now go, I believe Colin is expecting you, and I have many things to do.”

“Sure thing.” you replied.

Once you were out of his office, you gathered the baby blue skirt and ran to Benedict's studio. There, you saw the painting Anthony begged you not to ruin.

It was a woman's naked figure, quite a graceful one. And it was beautifully portrayed.

It would be a shame for it to be ruined. Thank God you did not promise Anthony a thing.

It was still wet, so it was not difficult to use other colors and mix them with the paint so it would look different. You also spilled droplets of red and signed your name on the painting where he had his.

Then, you cleaned your hands and ran to the door.

“Colin!” you exclaimed, and he turned around. “We are going to find Benedict right now.”

He frowned, annoyed. “What happened now?”

“Lord Raeken won't marry me for something Benedict did. Now I must speak to him.”

“It is getting late. We will not get to the tailor in time if we go to Benedict first.”

“Please?” You begged Colin. “I can get on my knees if you wish, but please…”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Alright, let's- oh, there he is!”

You looked in the same direction as him and noticed Benedict getting home. He seemed mad, and your face lost all its life when you thought of what could happen when he saw his painting ruined by you.

“Let's get out of here, Colin…” you muttered once Benedict passed you without even saying hello.

“Why? Benedict is here if you wish to talk to him.”

“It might not be a great time right now…”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I swear to God!”

“Because…” You gave Colin a sheepish look at Benedict's scream.

“What did you do?”

“He started it!”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Did you-”

“Come inside right now!” Benedict yelled once he reached the door. “I am dead serious.”

You sighed, walking next to Colin. “He is going to kill me, Colin.”

“You do not know that.”

“I did something bad.”

“So did he.”

You pursed your lips. “Tell Daphne that only Francesca is a good fit to replace me as Auggie's godmother once I die.”

“Do not say that.”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!” You mimicked him, anger coming to surface again as you reached his studio.

“This was an assignment for tomorrow morning!”

“Well, Lord Raeken was my whole future, Benedict!” you yelled back.

“Look at it! It is ruined!”

Colin was annoyed enough of your fights, and seeing the keys was enough for him to know there was only one solution.

So he did it and thought that you would either kill each other or make amends.

The third Bridgerton exited the room quietly and thanked your bickering for being distracting enough so you did not notice when he closed the door and locked it from outside.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asked when he saw Colin lock the door.

“Forcing those two to reconcile.”

The eldest brother chuckled. “Best of luck with that.”

“I know they will get over it,” he said, sitting on the floor next to the door. “I shall stay here even if it takes me the whole night.”

Anthony joined him. “This should be fun.”

“I do not care if it is ruined, Benedict… you can ruin my future but you draw a line at ruined paintings?!”

“Do you not know how important my career is for me?! You can find another suitor anytime!”

You groaned. “This is my third season, and I have not found a husband! I was the Diamond of my first Season, Benedict! And you have been ruining all of them for me!”

“I have not ruined anything. They simply are not a good fit for the family!”

“I am done listening to you.” You walked away from him and tried, in vain, to open the door.

After looking around, you noticed Colin was supposed to be in the room with you but he wasn't.

“Colin Bridgerton, open this door right now!” You banged the door, making him flinch. “Someone, open the door! We are locked in here!”

Benedict believed you simply weren't strong enough to open it, so he joined you trying to open it but couldn't while his brothers hid their laughter. He looked for the keys but couldn't find them either.

“Colin must have taken the keys,” he noted.

You sighed tiredly. “Somebody open the door! Please, we are trapped!”

“Open the door! Colin!”

“They will not let us out.” you told him.

“Perhaps we should just say we made amends and they will open the door.”

“Do you think he is an idiot? Only a fool would believe you and I could reach an agreement overnight, let alone the ten minutes we have been here.”

He groaned, giving up on escaping the room and returning to the conflict. “How are you so blind, Y/N? How can you fail to see that they are not right for the family?”

“I beg your pardon?! You do not even know them!”

“Is that so?” he questioned, getting closer to you. “Lord Leclerc, a widower who had lovers left and right while his late wife was terribly ill, the Duke of Sussex is a dull rat, and the Count had three illegitimate children by the time he set foot on Mayfair. They are not good people for us.”

“If that is what worries you so, I can leave forever after I marry!”

“Do you truly think this family will survive a week without seeing you? Mother is devastated at Daphne's absence… yours would kill her.”

You rolled your eyes. “We are not even a real family, are we? I am not related to you, I am a mere burden, so why do you not take any of them as your chance to get rid of me?”

“I did not mean that. Stop bringing it to the table each time it suits your purpose to manipulate me.”

“I could seriously kill you with my bare hands right now, Benedict…” you spoke, outraged. “What is it that I did for you to hate me so much?!”

“It is not worth talking about that now.”

“Why are you like this with me, Benedict? At this point, I would marry just about any man who could take me away from you.”

His heart skipped a beat. “We can't just let you marry anyone, alright?”

“Why do you even care?!”

“Because I cannot let you go with someone I do not trust…”

“What will it even take for you to trust any of them?”

“I could never trust them, Y/N, because I can't trust in someone who does not love you devotedly and absolutely.”

Your lips formed a line of disdain at his words. “How would you even know they don't if you do not give them the chance to truly get to me?”

“Because no one does.”

“Wow,” you laughed bitterly. “Thanks for reminding me how unlovable I am.”

“You do not understand, Y/N.”

“Explain it to me, then!” You asked, you begged him.

“No one does it like I do, my goodness!” he screamed, and you were sure it echoed through the whole floor.

You choked on your own spit at his confession, and at the other side of the door, Colin and Anthony looked at each other completely flabbergasted.

“We should leave.” Anthony whispered. “Unlock the door.”

Colin nodded. “I agree, we should let them out.”

Anthony nodded and left, but Colin was determined.

He certainly did not unlock the door.

“What?” you asked in almost a whisper.

Benedict seemed surprised at his own words, as if he had spoken from ignorance because… it couldn't be real, could it? He couldn't be in love with you.

“I…”

“Benedict…”

“You are my family,” he ‘corrected’ himself. “Conflict in families is not uncommon. It is fine. I care about you, and I… we do not want you to be the wife of a man that does not deserve you, Y/N. You are sunlight, and they are nothing but a gray sky.”

You breathed out shakily, looking at his blue eyes deeply, feeling like you had never seen such blue in your entire life. “I am sorry about your painting.”

“It is alright, I will try to fix it; maybe if Colin lets us out, I can go back to the Academy before it is too late. Find a model-”

“Is that what you need? A model?”

Benedict cleared his throat, guessing where it was going, though scared of it. “Yes, but it should not be difficult to find one at the Academy.”

“We will not be let out,” you reminded him and gave it all a careful thought.

You were aware it wasn't right. He was a man, and you were a woman who was not married to him. He must not see you naked under any circumstances, but again… he saved you from those men who weren't worth it, and you paid him by ruining his artwork. It was not fair, so you owed him.

You could break the rules a little. After all, you were locked in a room for God only knows how long.

So you nodded and started undressing. “I could model for you if that is what you need.”

“What? Do not, I-”

“What is the difference between that woman and I?”

Benedict's brain told him to stop you. It was definitely not right for a lady like you to be seen naked before marriage. Worse than that, be painted.

“Y/N…”

“Am I not interesting enough to paint, Benedict?” you questioned as your dress reached the floor. “I just wish to make up for what I did.”

You started undoing your corset under his careful eyes.

“If what worries you is my identity, I believe you could use the other model's face,” you added once the corset was discarded and your bosom fully exposed to him. “It is intact in your painting.”

“I am afraid your grace cannot be compared.”

You exhaled nervously when your shaking hands reached the beginning of your underpants. “Then make justice to it.”

Finally, you stood completely naked before him and didn't dare to be modest about it.

“Paint me.”

You walked to the couch and laid in a similar position as the model in his painting.

“I cannot ask that of you.” He tried one last time, gathering all the strength in his body… You were a lady, and he was a gentleman; no matter how rare that would be of him to stop you. It was not right, but what a sight he had before him.

“Then it is good that I offered.” you refuted.

He doubted for longer than he is willing to admit, but ultimately approached you with hesitant steps.

“Allow me,” he whispered as he reached you. You nodded, and he accommodated your head so you would be looking up at the ceiling and your hands to cover what could be seen of your face to his art's convenience delicately. His touch, hot, caused goosebumps on your skin. A gasp left your lips. “You truly are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

Benedict returned to the canvas, telling himself he could do this.

He shouldn't.

But if your face wouldn't be seen, it would do no harm. Only you and him would know it's you.

A few hours had passed and the night had fallen. It was difficult to paint with the growing darkness hiding your features, so he left his piece for a second to find some candles.

Before he returned to the canvas, you spoke. “Am I doing it well?”

“You certainly are,” he praised you. “A natural indeed.”

You had goosebumps once again.

What is wrong with me?, you asked yourself.

How could Benedict, of all people, make you feel like this? How could he control the speed of your heartbeat with mere words? How could he turn your skin into a burning mess that acted as if it was freezing? How could he make your hands sweat each time he got closer? How could he make you forget how much you despised him after he said he loved you?

How did he love you? He said you were family, but he did not dare to call you a sister like his siblings always do. No, this was a different kind of love: the kind of love you read about in the romance novels you have stolen from his library, because that is the way you were feeling near his presence, under his stare, at his touch.

“Come here,” you commanded long before you thought what you would say. He complied, flying to you like a moth to a flame, but you were sunlight: billions of times more powerful, and you could consume him long before he dared to reach you. He felt like a moth with wigs made of wax, melting with each step that brought him close to you. Gladly. “How do you love me, Benedict?”

“What?”

It was unbelievable that a man of words like him could act so clueless, but there he was. Oblivious to your passion, not to mention his.

“I have always been your Mama's daughter and your brothers and sisters' sister. But I have never been yours,” you mentioned. “Why, if you love me so?”

“Y/N…” His hand caressed your face, and you took the other to put it on your left breast where he could feel your heart beating.

“Kiss me if what my beating heart says about your love is true.” It was an order, and that heart of yours was certainly right.

And right then, he knew he was careless of his own insignificance. He would fly as high as the melting wax allowed him to and fall as deep into the ocean as his own weight imposed.

He could drown and disappear, live and die for this moment. For all the frustration that has haunted him all those years of loathing and yearning. For his sunlight, for you.

He kissed you, and you returned the kiss as if your lips had ever touched others before.

They haven't.

They shouldn't.

But they are now.

It was an angry kiss. Wet, carnal, breathless, hot, feral, everything.

His lips did not caress yours or danced with yours, no; they fought and devoured yours, and you gave in.

It was exquisite but depraved in a way you couldn't bring yourself to explain, and you absolutely loved it.

Once the kiss ended, you were the first to talk. “Take it all off.”

He breathed out, nerves he does not recall to have ever felt scared his determination away.

He felt as pathetic as those men he threatened to ruin if they were to set foot in the same room as you ever again, and he took off his clothes with the urgency of a task set by the scary educator of his childhood.

You looked at him, took it all in, and gave him space to lay beside you.

“It's just us, Benedict…” you let out, your breath blending with his. “You can love me now.”

His cue.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 5 MATCH 6

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Josephine propaganda:

“you get to have a full Disney princess style romance with her, she is the most precious, the most sweet, I love her so much 🥺”

“Josephine's one of the "behind the scenes" companion for the protagonist and she advises them on diplomacy-related matters.

Her personal quest and romance is fairy-tale worthy: she gets threatened with assassination, you help her restore her family's fortune, you get threatened by her best friend to not break her heart, she doesn't dare to hope you mean anything serious when flirting until you spell it out for her, after which Josie agrees to a deeper relationship... And immediately after that she finds out her family has engaged her to a random noble without her knowledge!! You publicly challenge the suitor to a one-on-one duel to win her hand, she finds out and interrupts the duel because she's worried of the Inquisitor throwing literally the entire plot away and risk life in combat for her... To which of course you can confess that they're doing it because they love Josephine, and they get the cutest cutscene with Josie jumping in the Inquisitor's arms and them spinning her around before kissing each other <3 The betrothed steps away because he sees true love between the two. She and the Inquisitor stay together through the end game and after it, gaining a "second home" with her and her family.

She really believes in the Inquisitor's cause and from the very first conversations with her, she asks questions about your background and tries to make you feel welcomed (especially appreciated if the Inquisitor isn't human since people are less trusting of them). She's politically smart but dislikes violence, overall very sweet but still strong... Josie tends to overwork herself (she's a perfectionist) and at first she tries to keep a professional air at all times but if you encourage her, she will rant to you and spill all the tea about nobles lol.”

[sku11s1asher]

neuvillette x male reader for soulmates au😞😞 enemies to lover trop to omg there both rivals but slowly fall inlove with each other😭

neuvillette x nb/male reader (soulmate au)

note: ermm ignore how long it took, i forgot to check inbox, also i didn’t go too much into enemies more like haters to lovers lol (this is a long drabble bc i couldn’t think of any main prompts, enjoy it bc it really is long oops)

ooc neuv , suggestive , also they don’t really go in a order so yeah

fem dni

before finding out your soulmates (d1 haters frfr)

⋆ you and neuvillette seemed to argue over every little thing. if you breathed in his direction he’d mumble something under his breath, causing an argument.

⋆ everyone thought you both were dating, every single time you both even come close to each other theres some awkward sexual tension

⋆ he criticized every little thing you did, if said something a little wrong, he’d make fun of you, always having to run his mouth

⋆ now you personally didn’t really believe in soulmates because of how hard it is to find yours, to find your soulmate you have to actually touch them; not a touch as in accidentally graze but like an intimate type, a hug, etc.

⋆ if you are a attorney, you always would always drag on the case longer than it needs to be just to argue a little longer (you also did it to spend more time with him but, i won’t tell anyone your secret)

⋆ neuvillette and you had some weird type of rivalry, you guys knew each other for a while, every single time you felt as neuvillette liked someone you ended up taking them from him and he did the same to you.

⋆ at the same time, he didn’t honestly know how to feel about you, your personality was so different from his. he tried his best to stay away from you but, clearly it didn’t work.

⋆ his hatred for you was also contributed because of your friends, the people you hang around, the not so liked people in fontaine.

⋆ he felt as you were a competition for him at the same time; you were a little too good at your job (whatever you want it to be), now it may not necessarily be at his level but you were too good for his liking.

⋆ his emotions and feelings are all over the place. he couldn’t decide if he hated you, didn’t care, or was jealous.

⋆ neuvillette always looked at you, even if it was a look of hatred, love, admiration, anything. he always had some type of eye on you, he felt some time of connection with you.

⋆ if you ever got in trouble, he took the blame for it, which was odd as he wouldn’t really care if you were someone else.

⋆ fontaine was raining really bad, that day happened to be the day you got injured.

⋆ you had just got back from sumeru which isn’t the safest place, your injuries weren’t thatttt bad but, they weren’t the prettiest.

⋆ once you got a little healed and we’re allowed to leave, you saw him. he wasn’t doing anything important just looking at the melusine.

⋆ you walked up to him to annoy and tease him, most people were conflicted if you were enemies or lovers.

⋆ you weren’t expecting his reaction though, instead of arguing with you, he hugged you. you were frozen for a moment but eventually hugged him back, which is how you found out you were soulmates.

once you find out you’re soulmates ;

⋆ he always has some part of him touching you, even if it’s his pinkie, he needs the comfort of you.

⋆ soulmates share a mark with each other, you both have (design of your choice idk), every single time you get intimate with him, he always kisses and loves on it.

⋆ he loves praising you, if you win a court case or do something really good in your job, expect a night full of praise.

⋆ you both didn’t announce your relationship with anyone though, you both give sly comments every chance you get.

⋆ neuvillette loves you though, your the only person who gets him to act the way he does.

⋆ he’s always had a soft spot for you, before you were soulmates and when you were hating on each other every chance you both had.

⋆ once you both got into a huge argument, it was raining hard, you felt bad because he’s your bf/hubby

⋆ when you walked into his office and saw him crying you didn’t know what to do. he never got better with his emotions and expressing them with you.

⋆ “baby, i’m sorry, you were right i was wrong, okay?” you said to him while walking up to his desk. all he did was look at you and wipe his tears, not giving you a response.

⋆ he truly was the prettiest crier you’ve ever met, it was kind of a turn on, but keep your mind out the gutters your bf is cryin!

⋆ you both cuddle a lot, after you argue. he never liked having serious arguments with you though, it brought him some type of sadness.

⋆ just overall, he’s an lovin boyfriend (and hopefully husband), he’s the best soulmate you could’ve ever asked for!

⋆ ps; he still doesn’t like your friends (lyney)