#he'd be a valuable partner if he could follow her to be an escape plan

[scentedpepper]

Missions, Malaise and Migas Pt. VIII | Leon Kennedy

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Summary: Leon and Y/N have some underlying issues. Ones they tried to warn DSO about.

Content Warnings: None

Other Pairings: Luis Sera x Reader

Author Note(s): AHHHHHHHHH

"Y/N. " Over and over he calls your name, a hand gripping your arm. He wastes no time, trying to nudge you awake as he pulls you closer to his shoulder and your head lulls the slightest, a gush of air whispering through your lips as you weakly say his name.

There is blood. Warm, wet, blood stuck between the crevice of Leons neck and the bridge of your nose and he wants to freak out, he wants to panic when he feels your eyelashes fanning down against his skin, leaving specks of droplets as you fall from your own consciousness and all he can do is cradle your form, like the most valuable object in the universe has been dropped. It's like his world is floating out of existence, a speck that keeps getting smaller.

And it does get smaller. Every time your eyes slip shut, every moment you can barely let out a proper breath or the smallest whimper of your partner's name, the tighter he held onto your dying corpse.

Somewhere along the way he'd found himself on his knees, unable to think as he holds on to you as if it'd somehow preserve your lifeline. He doesn't know what to do. He has no clue. For once, he can't seem to conjure up a solution, a plan, the next course of action, an escape route, a different outcome. Anything.

When his hands cup the sides of your face, your skin is still hot, your body limp, all he can manage out in this flurry of seconds is your name, again and again as if it would be the one thing to bring you back into the world. You always seemed so solid, a rock, the one he could lean against but his foundation was gone now, his only salvation left in the form of Luis who was beginning to kneel in front of him, his frame coming back into focus.

Luis rests a hand on Leon's shoulder and he nearly flinches at the action. "Hermano, a breath. " He needs the mans attention. "This is serious. " It isn't easy to break Leon out of his mental state, but there's panic swelling in his own chest as he tries to figure out why your breathing is only growing worse by the second.

His hands travel from the gentle cradle of your head and he's feeling around the right side of your neck. First, in desperation and then in a more calculated manner, following the trail from your jawline to the soft spot and then he feels it. It's a hasty thrum, a pattern of pounding. Something erratic and unsteady but enough of a pattern to cause relief to swirl around in his stomach. "Stay calm. "

He's shaky and unsure but he nods once.

"You need to call. Someone. Anyone. " He says urgently and Leon fumbles for the piece of equipment in his ear. He pushes the button quickly and he mutters a relieved thank you when contact is established and a voice fizzles through the tiny speakers.

"Leon?" Hunnigan's vocals ring out over the static and for a moment, Leon feels his heart being cradled in the sound of her. His fear, his anger. "We've been trying to locate you. What's your status?"

"I.." Leon can't find the words, can't force out the information he so badly needs to relay, even his fingers begin to feel weak and Luis nods reassuringly before responding to the woman on the other side.

"Ingrid! It's Luis. " Luis is already reaching for your limp form, ready to lift you, take you out of this god forsaken place and into somewhere safer, to people who can take care of you. "Y/N, he's injured. "

"Injured? " The panic in her voice mirrors the amount that Leon tries to swallow down. "What happened?"

"Its-- I don't--" He cuts himself off, hands leaving you for a brief moment as if to search but they fall back to your form. "I don't know. He passed out. The injuries we see aren't severe enough for that. "

"You're gonna have to elaborate. Can you carry him out?"

"Leon? Listen to me. " Hunnigan's voice is gentle but stern and it's enough to center Leon in what he needs to do. It's clear to her that the distress is beginning to consume the agent. She can practically sense the slight hysteria creeping its way into his veins. "Listen to me. " Her voice picks up and she's watching the screen pull up various pieces of data.

Your vitals.

It does not read well.

"I see them. " Leon responds slowly.

The data says your heart rate is unsteady, and even climbing. Your breathing is sporadic at best but with every passing second, it gets easier and then harder to manage.

Hunnigan isn't sure if she should force anything else out of him, and the way his body coils around the air is enough to determine this is not the time. "Carry him out. " It's an order. One that he mindlessly follows like a programmed bot.

"Hand him to me. " He says to Luis as he stands up and for a few seconds, Luis is hesitant.

"Please. " Leon can almost see him processing what he'd just said, how desperate his words sounded and the glazed stare is enough for Luis to get moving again, delicately adjusting you into your partners hold.

Leon takes you gently and when he cradles you against his frame, it's one of the most secure things he's ever felt, your head on his shoulder, your breaths against his skin. He's taken aback by the weight that appears heavier than it should.

Luis doesn't speak but keeps a watchful gaze over Leon's shoulder as he exits the storage facilities. His walk is fast-paced with Luis just a few paces behind him, your gun in hand as he keeps a watchful gaze on the surroundings.

“I’m sending a chopper. “

...

The sounds in his ear, or more specifically Hunnigan, begins to fade out and at some point becomes useless as it shifts to something unimportant and distant. He's worried. Too worried.

The waiting room is cold but he's sweating.

Once he has time to reflect in the moment, away from people watching and judging, he begins to come to.

That maybe he wasn't actually capable of being so distracted as he was being an uncaring imbecile.

He wishes you could see him now.

Terrified.

A mess in the middle of DSOs medical facility.

Alone.

His chin dips down to his chest, his hands clenching and unclenching.

He tries not to think about it. He does. The way you could barely breathe or the way you forced his name past your lungs.

Hunnigans gone silent beside him.

The fact that he's here right now grows distant as his gaze fades into the mucky brown carpet. The color of it is close to the stains on his face. He hasnt been cleaned up, checked, or treated. He doesn't want to be.

He wants to sit in the filthy mess of dried blood for the rest of his life.

Maybe thats dramatic.

But its how he feels.

Hes picking at his fingers, shredding them and hes almost certain he can hear muffled cries from the public bathroom Luis had excused himself to moments earlier.

That or his eardrums are finally giving out.

His head lulls against the wall, shoulders drawn in tightly, feet spread apart, like a child.

It feels like he's too big for the seat, that all he has to do is move, and it will shatter beneath his weight. It feels like his head is too large. His heart too massive and it's fighting against his sternum.

He breathes out slowly.

He blinks in long waves.

He's supposed to be responding, he's conscious enough to know that there's someone standing in front of him wanting to know why one of their best agents is facing a sentence of death. But he can't focus on the words. He can't decipher them.

The look on the persons face reads loud and clear.

Their hands. They pull him up. They hurt, tight against his bruising forearms.

"Agent Kennedy. " It's an older man. He has thinning hair and the buttons of his shirt are loose, the collar even worse. He's almost as much a mess as Leon is. Almost. "I need you to answer these questions. "

His ears ring.

The words blend together and fade to white noise. His jaw opens and he can't find himself able to respond.

"Kennedy!" There's anger in the man's voice.

"Yes. " It's a breath, a strangled answer that the older man doesn't quite make out. There's confusion. An unwelcome scowl.

He tries to get a few more words out of the the man but only ever so many seem to get through. Something about 'understands the policies and how the public services they pay for cannot be wasted'. He seems to believe Leon doesn't care enough about his partner and the 'goddamn mission'. Like its more important than a life.

It becomes easier to disconnect.

When he does finally process the last few words out of his superior's mouth, its enough to settle him.

"..be put on a tight rope, Agent Kennedy. As soon as Mr. (L/n) awakens and is properly handled, you will be called for a meeting that is required to take place after the events that took happened here. Or–" The man is scowling, "You can suck it up and tell me what the hell went on here. "

It's an oddly polite wording and as Leon falls back into the seat after his arm had been harshly released he starts to put together what had transpired without his permission. How lost his mind had been.

To be honest it's still lost.

Everything around him is one big mess.

"Alright then. " The man sighs. "Mr. Sera came to me earlier saying his own explanation would be a bit.. disheartening. I agree. Until we get to the bottom of this mess, you are not to leave. Got it, Special Agent Kennedy? I'll give you an hour and a half to wrap your mind around everything that has happened and then-- "

"I got it. " Leon cuts through the thickness of his voice with the strength of a samurai. His eyes lift to his superior's and despite how numb he'd felt before, when he watches the man's jaw tighten and his nose flare in irritation, all he can think of is standing up and putting his hands around the slimy fellows throat. His back lifts off of the back of the chair, his body tense and unforgiving.

"...Fine. " The man responds and leaves without another glance.

It's a while before he finds the energy to breathe.

Even longer before Luis comes out of the room he'd locked himself into and tries to hide his raw face and sobbing voice.

If Leon were capable of doing anything, he'd acknowledge the pain the Spaniard felt. The potential loss of someone so close. He'd apologize. Tell him how sorry he is for how he reacted when you came into your last breaths.

For all he knows, Luis is your best friend.

He doesn't know. He doesn't. He doesn't know as much about you as he should. As much as he now realizes he wishes he did.

There are so many things the agent needs to do and say to the Spaniard that comes out of his sight after managing the tears welling in his eyes, wiping away the lines streaming down his cheeks, cursing and muttering under his breath as he tries to push the feelings back down into the depths of his heart.

"Leon. " His voice is as soothing as a song and it only puts him at the slightest of ease.

"Yeah. "

"Lo siento. " I'm sorry. Luis' voice breaks at the tail-end of the sentence but there's that constant levelness behind the tone.

Leon shakes his head, as if the man is wrong for apologizing, wrong for saying it. Its habitual, to act like you don't mean a thing to him. That you haven't taken up such a large part of his life, that you are simply just a distant presence. Partners, associates, even. But you're both well aware of the truth.

He wants you to live, just to see what a future where you have to spend every waking moment with him has to bring. A future you two might even consider putting a label to.

He wants to say something to Luis. Anything. Even a 'Don't'. Don't apologize. The words form in his brain but refuse to make it to his lips and his forehead creases in confusion, in frustration. With himself. For his fault.

He wants to try again. Again and again until he can get the right words out of his mouth but his minds focus is quickly altered when he sees the door to the waiting room open from the corner of his eye and a man steps through.

By the time his eyes focus and fixate, Luis has already stood up.

He sees Luis turn his body towards the approaching doctor and hes quick to follow suit, his vest, which Hunnigan had forced off his body an hour into waiting to check up on him herself being carelessly discarded to the floor.

It's about three seconds after he joins Luis' side that he's forced to choke down the painful thudding coming from his heart. It takes three seconds for his eyes to begin to tear, burning, stinging, as if his pupils have become a cauldron to melt his skin.

Three seconds and he can no longer keep the tight hold on his breath.

Three seconds is too soon for Leon to push back the hotness pressing behind his lids.

Three seconds and all he can think is that you're gonna be alright.

Three seconds and the doctor is speaking.

"Mr. (L/n)?" He asks for confirmation even when it's been evident for the last twenty seconds that it's the right people.

"Yes. " Luis looks so pale, so fragile and suddenly all Leon wants to do is tell him he'll take care of talking to the doctor, that you'll be okay, that he can promise he'll bring you back to him clean, recovered and fully functional.

"Mr. (L/n) is in a very delicate state. " He glances at the three faces in front of, holding a soft gaze that reads nothing but empathy. "He has a few broken ribs, one of which has punctured his liver. His ankle is fractured. There was major bruising and swelling around the throat, which caused most of the issue when it comes to breathing. Luckily for him, it wasn't quite enough to end him. There are a few other wounds that have been correctly patched up with cleaning and stitching. "

Luis' head tilts down to the floor. His hand going to cover his mouth and its clear the man is struggling not to breakdown again.

"We have him on life-support at the moment to ensure his hearts strong enough to go on without it. The first day or two are never easy, but like I said. Mr. (L/n) is in a... delicate state. The next day or so are going to be risky. "

Leon's arms feel tingly, numb and he wants to move them, to take a breathe but hes become stone.

"Can I-- Can I go see him?"

The doctor narrows his eyes. "I'm afraid that right now, it is recommended that no one visits Mr. (L/n). If that changes, I will be sure to let you know. If anything else happens regarding Mr. (L/n)'s case, I will be back as well. "

Leon's fingers itch to connect. Wrapped around your body again, around anything of yours he can get a hold of, for the sake of knowing you're okay. He needs that.

He needs to say it, to tell you something he's waited too long to confess.

"Will he make it?" Luis' voice is low and it's a sentence as forbidden as the one he'd asked about Leon when you first came limping into his hotel room.

Will he?

Leon wonders the same and it's becoming hard to keep himself standing, his legs feel unused, struggling to hold his weight. They want to buckle, give out. He has told hold the nearest thing next to him. Luis. The only thing that'll keep him up.

"I.. Over the many times that I've found Agent (L/n) in my office, he's insisted on giving me the allowance to talk a little less than formally. So I won't be lying or sugar coating any of this. " The doctor takes a breath.

"He went over the permitted amount of stress for his heart. He had a significant amount of bleeding into his chest cavity and if he wasn't a fighter, as I know from our various chats, we'd be having a different conversation. I'm sure you and him are close and I hate to inform you with such grim details, but Mr. Sera, he is in an incredibly difficult position. "

..It is possible that he will make it. He'll say, to comfort, even though Leon is barely breathing, fighting to keep the dark dancing along the edges of his vision at bay.

He hopes.

But he can't feel it enough in his heart. Not right now.

What's obvious now, to Leon is that you're at your limit, that you're done for.

You're at your most fragile point, this man clearly knew you well to take away the false promises, the pointless fluff that comes with any story after these events. The story where his partner beats impossible odds, reaches the insurmountable and becomes unbreakable.

This is the part where you pull the plug.

Where it all ends, even the fantasy Leon's created in his own head.

Hunnigans head hangs low behind the men. Her eyes closing tightly. "Right..." She says, her voice soft, choked on with sympathy and grief.

She doesn't lift it again until the doctor gives them his sincerest condolences and not much else.

Her eyes follow him out the door, silently chasing after some foreign fantasy as if he'll suddenly turn around and deliver different news.

"...I want to see him. "

It's Luis. Luis is crying.

He's holding onto Leon like hes the last piece of you he has, the last connection to the living.

"Me too. " He says weakly. His voice cracking under the pressure of his emotions.

When their eyes meet, they seem to be trying to draw strength from each other.

Their bottom lips twitch, their hands shake, and their eyes gloss over and the more the atmosphere settles the closer they lean into each other, as if its keeping them on Earth.

Leon is the first to grasp the man.

Pulling him into a tight, desperate hug.

Hunnigan knows that and not much else as she meets the eyes of the figure standing in the frame of the door your doctor had just walked through.

Her eyebrows twitch.

How odd. The strangest time to show up, she thinks. The most unexpected appearance of those sharp features that had some how managed to hold a quiet resonance of sympathy in them. A sadness.

Hunnigan thinks it's unfitting for Ada.

But she supposes, at the end of it all, she's human.

[justalost4girl]

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

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1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

..........................................................................................................................

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law

[purple-possibilities]

Like Father, Like Son

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of prostitution, like slightly dark? Gritty maybe is a better descriptor, Naruto world taken seriously.

Length: 1888 words

Pairing: MinaKushi, Minato’s Canonical Dad x Minato’s Canonical Mom

Genre: romance, drama, slight angst (we know how these two ended up), crack taken seriously

Summary: the story of Minato’s parents, and how that influenced Minato’s decisions, and his courtship of Kushina. Inspired by this post about Minato being extra.

Like many children in ninja villages—and truly, just children in general, since the Warring States Era and the formation of the Ninja Villages—Namikaze Minato is an orphan. His father was a self-taught ninja from a small village on the boarder of Kaze no Kuni, while his mother was a kunoichi from Tsuchi.

Though Minato's parents had died when he was young, he was old enough to remember them. He was old enough to understand why his parents were forced to hide away from their home countries, old enough to know when and why he had to hide and lie.

He was old enough to understand why tousan had to escape in the night while he and kaachan had to flee in the cover of tousan's sacrifice distraction.

He was old enough to understand why he and kaachan had to lie about their ninja training when they immigrated into Konoha with forged papers so realistic that not even Konoha's infamous T&I, or their renowned Yamanaka clan could tell the difference.

He was old enough to understand why kaachan was forced to work in the way she did, why strange people would spend an hour or two, or sometimes even the whole night behind the door to his mother's room, why she made him leave when some specific visitors stopped by, why he eventually came home to find her laying in bed, blooms of red and shocks of shiny white against her cold, still skin.

He was old enough to remember it all—to want to change it all, one day—but his mind would always take him back to one specific memory.

His most precious memory of all.

The love in his parents' eyes.

Minato could recite the story word for word, with how much his kaachan told it—how much more she would cling to the words after tousan was gone.

Kaachan was from Iwagakure, having sworn her life to the Tsuchikage and the Tsuchi no Kuni daimyou as a kunoichi of the Rock. Touchan truly had no allegiance—his skills had come from a talent with chakra and a necessity for self-defense.

So when touchan had seen a group of Suna-nin abducting a woman, he did what any good man would do.

He saved her.

Touchan had followed after the Suna-nin in secret, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Touchan was not sure he could defeat the two Suna-nin on his own, but he knew that with the help of the right environment and a few tricks, he could come out victorious.

With his wind chakra aiding him in both speed and his strikes, touchan caught the first nin completely off guard. As the second nin—the one holding kaachan—noticed his partner listing to the right—before the dead body could hit the ground—touchan had just as swiftly eliminated the other, catching kaachan in his arms.

Unwilling to linger at the scene, touchan carried kaachan away, until it was safe for them to stop. When touchan untied kaachan's binds, she couldn't help herself.

Kaachan pulled touchan into a kiss.

It was in that moment that kaachan fell in love with touchan. Both were alone in this cruel ninja world. The shinobi nations were in the midst of the second Great Ninja War. People were dying left and right, hundreds every day.

Who would miss one kunoichi? Who would recognise one self-taught man from the edges of Kaze no Kuni?

Who would give up on the chance of happiness, love, and family, when the world had taken so much from them?

He remembers asking his parents how they knew they were in love after just one meeting.

His mother always answered, “A selfless act of kindness in a cruel world is a rare thing to be treasured. When you find that, especially when you're alone and hopeless, it's easier to leave behind the entirety of your harsh, unfriendly life for even just a single moment with such a person."

When Minato asked his touchan, his father always answered, "There is not much kindness in this world, not much any single person alone can do to fix that. We work hard, we may try to help others, but that's not going to get any one man very far. Kaachan has a fire in her, a toughness, a resilliance which cannot be crushed. She is fierce in her mind, body, and soul. As a man forced to grow and survive on his own, I know just how valuable, and how rare those traits are. I had desperately craved for companionship, for a family, and your mother has the strength and resilliance to ensure our story will be longer than most."

At the time, Minato didn't truly understand what either of his parents meant. But as an orphan, as a boy all alone, who had witnessed the worst of the world and wanted to make it better, who had his world stripped from him in a place that should have been safe, with the weight of his parents sacrifices on his mind and the desperate urge for a family once more...

Minato fell in love.

All he knew about love was what he'd seen from his parents. With no advice, no one to turn to, Minato did the only thing he could:

He emulated the fond, much told memory of how his parents fell in love with the percotions, strong-willed, resilliant Uzumaki Kushina.

And like a blessing from beyond, like a gift from his absent parents, Uzumaki Kushina—who had only ever glared and grumbled at Minato before then—had fallen in love with him.

It hadn't been hard to use the shadow-clone jutsu and then henge them into Kumo-nin. It wasn't hard to find Kushina all alone, after tricking the ANBU who followed her with a genjutsu laid out by Uchiha Fugaku's sharingan.

It wasn't hard for Minato to gently disable (but not disperse!) his own clones, to catch Kushina in his arms, to take her to "safety" (as if she were in any danger at all).

It wasn't hard to attract her heart and capture it—not with his boyish good looks, his patience, and most damning of all—

Kushina's lonliness and desire for connection.

With her home village destroyed and Mito-sama recently deceased, there wasn't a better time for him to put his ploy in motion. Maybe to a civilian that might seem callous, but to a ninja, that was just smart planning.

What did it matter if he was using her grief and loneliness to his advantage? His company would heal that for her anyways.

(Besides, it was his grief and lonliness which drove him to do it).

Minato would grow up to be a lot of things: a hero and a curse, a soldier and a leader, a husband and—just briefly—a father.

Minato would not go on to share the story of how he got Kushina to love him with his son. Minato would instead go on to emulate his father, sacrificing himself in the hopes of giving his child a shot at a better life.

But that was for later. In this moment, in the shoddy comfort of the bachelor apartment allotted to orphaned ninja-in-training, Minato put the pieces of his plan together.

Minato was old enough to retain memories of his life before Konoha, before his parents were taken from him, but only one memory stood out.

And so he remembered.

And so he took the past and made it his present with dreams of the future on his mind.

Fun Facts!

I imagine Minato's mom to be blonde like he, Naruto, and Deidara are, while his dad has red hair similar to Kushina and Gaara. His mother's hair was smooth and straight while his father's was spikes like Minato and Naruto.

The ninja who killed Minato's father were sent after his mother for desertion. Another Iwa-nin had caught sight of her and reported back to the Tsuchikage. The nin were sent to kill Minato's parents but were instructed to bring Minato back alive in case he was useful. I kind of puts Minato's massacre of those thousand Iwa-nin during the Third War into a new light...

Fugaku only agreed to help Minato because when he initially refused, Minato accused Fugaku of not being able to do it. Fugaku, like a certain other Uchiha we know, was desperate to prove himself. Minato didn't tell Fugaku about his plan, he just dared Fugaku to trick the ANBU.

Minato had to practice with his clones for weeks to be able to fight them without them "popping." He ended up having to use a seal on them to make them more resilliant. It was his first time working with fuinjutsu, and what sparked his love for it. Kushina's interest only heightened his own.

Yes, Minato's dad only went along with kaachan's feelings because he was lonely and she was strong. Relationships have been built on less. He was a very pragmatic man. He did genuinely fall in love with her though.

When Minato and his mom immigrated to Konoha, she had to pretend to be a civilian with no ninja training to avoid suspicion, and be offered asylum as a Hi no Kuni refugee. As a foreigner (even one posing as a Fire Country citizen) and with the growing number of refugees, it was hard for her to find a job, so she became a prostitute. She was killed by a nin who was triggered and experienced a panic attack/flashback. He fled the scene after, and ended up letting himself get killed during his next mission. The case of her murder remains unsolved—not that the police did much investigating. There were more pressing issues to deal with at the time.

The harsh life Minato lived—as a fugitive and then a refugee and orphan—is what led him to want to be Hokage. He wanted to save people from the pain he and his parents suffered.

Kushina's spirit (and declaration to be Hokage) is what attracted Minato to her. His father's words of finding someone strong and stubborn enough to survive in this cruel ninja world is what made him decide she was the one for him.

Kushina is dumb. So dumb. Didn't catch on even once. Fell for the plot hook, line, and sinker. Even when, years later, Minato shared the story of how his parents met with her, Kushina did not piece his plan together.

Due to Minato using "Kumo"-nin to carry out the abduction, he made their already poor reputation in Konoha worse. This was further exasterbated when real Kumo-nin actually tried to kidnap Hinata.

Minato sacrafied himself that night when Kurama was unleashed on the village, because all he could think of in that moment was the way his father sacrificed himself to save Minato and his mom. It clouded his judgement from more logical options, like, I don't know, not casting a suicide jutsu to trap half a tailed beast in his minutes old son and his soon to be dead body.

Kushina was delirious from pain meds, having an tailed beast extracted from her, and her own hotheadedness. It was a bad mix.

In the end, Naruto learnt that rescuing a girl is the way to her heart, following the Namikaze family tradition of courtship.

AN: So, uh... This got darker than I thought. The post that inspired this was so cute too. I wrote this a few weeks ago on a night I was too busy for this bs and yet it would not let me rest until it was released. I wrote this after being challenged prompted by @books-n-guns, as crack is my apparent specialty (we been knew, I know. After the LeeKaguya fic I think I solidified my place in this fandom). I hope you enjoyed it!