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delphi-shield · 10 months ago

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di!leon x reader - long-distance relationship - part 2

previous part

you weren't bluffing.

you'd made the sign. wrote his name in big block letters, too confident in how you wrote the first half of his name. the 'EDY' crowds together at the end. 'E' shoves 'D' close to the end, 'Y' drawn paper thin and cocked to the side, threatening to topple off the edge of the paper. leon finds he's not too tired to laugh.

he had the whole goddamn flight to figure out what to say to you, but when he sees you standing there with that sign in your hand, scanning the crowd for a man you expect to be two inches taller, it all flushes out of him to make room for the queasy feeling in his gut. when you finally spot him (thank god; the words had gotten lodged in his throat, your name running around his mind again, again, again, lodged so deep in the crevices that he couldn't pry it free and force it out his mouth) your smile nearly blinds him. he shields his eyes with a hand, watches you bounce on the balls of your feet.

he flicks your sign with a finger. the only words that make it past the lump in his throat are, "messed up the kerning, huh?"

you tip your head, puppy-dog cute. more adorable in person. "the what?"

"kerning." silence. you shake your head a little, blank look in your eye. leon tries to swallow, feels barbs jab into his throat. ten minutes on the ground and he's fucking up already. his gut turns. he tries to blame it on airplane peanuts. "the space between the letters."

he should get back on the plane. if he flashes his badge and declares it official business they have to let him on, right? brass wouldn't be happy with him, but what are they going to do? he's leon fucking kenn--

you laugh and his thoughts screech to a halt, plane crash on the concourse. footsteps pound past him - or maybe that's his heartbeat in his ears. your laugh is prettier in person, too.

"okay, all right." your face lights up, eyes squished to make room for your smile. "why do you know that?"

mentally, he flips through a rolodex of excuses. he moonlighted as a graphic designer (false), he was really into fonts (no strong opinions, really), it's classified (outright lie). he settles for the truth, shrugging.

"late night wikipedia dive."

you laugh again. his heart is a bird, fluttering in his chest, battering itself against his ribs to get to you. what the hell is wrong with him? he hadn't felt like this in years, thought he wasn't supposed to feel like this anymore. when you were an adult you grew out of this sort of giddiness. he'd choked it down every time he'd checked his phone under the table at an intelligence meeting, dismissed it as heartburn. he's supposed to want. it's supposed to be a blaze that swallows him up. confident and bold and all-consuming. not fidgety and desperate.

he's not anxious. he's a grown man. he's met presidents, plural. he doesn't get nervous meeting people, even if they're stunning, even if his hands twitch to hold theirs.

does he hug you? kiss you? slip his hand into your back pocket and guide you out of the terminal, lead you blindly to a car that isn't his, take you to an apartment he's only ever seen portions of on a 15 inch screen, ask what he can make you for dinner in your own home? that's what he wants. skip over all of this and slide right into familiarity, fly right past all the work it takes to get there. you've done the leg work, right? you know how you feel about each other. he's here. that says enough, doesn't it?

he's eternally grateful that you reach through his thoughts and pull him into a hug. your face stuffs into his shoulder, words muffled. "i'm so glad you're here."

you inhale deeply and he swears his heart does a backflip. jesus, he needs to get a physical. this can't be normal.

it's you who loops your arm with his, you who tugs him into motion. you rattle off questions that he answers as best he can. it feels like drowning, like he can barely keep his head above water. his flight was fine, thanks for asking. no, he didn't get any sleep. he never sleeps on planes. it's a long story. he didn't need a nap, but yeah, he could go for a coffee.

you know this great place, you reassure him. really low-key. he treads water in the parking garage while you dig for your keys. you drop them - twice - and he wonders if you're struggling to stay at the surface, too.

as a last act before sinking into the passenger seat, he rescues your sign from the trash, folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

he looks up from buckling his seat belt, beckoned by the way you call his name. he's still smiling when you cup his cheeks and kiss him.

by day two, he's decided you need a new apartment. he hasn't told you that yet, figures it comes off too pushy, but he would fly back down to help you move if you wanted. (if he thinks it hard enough, won't you ask him to?)

don't misunderstand - he likes what you've done with the place. honest to god, you're a miracle worker with decor. you could really shape his place up.

it's just that your front door is less than secure. your locks are ran through. it would take him less than a minute to break in. he doesn't even want to think about your windows. other than being drafty, they're just another completely unsecured access point.

you'd invited him to sleep in your bed the first night, and he had every intention of doing so. he'd just passed out on the couch before he had the chance. leon had woken with a pillow stuffed under his head, thick, handmade blanket tucked over him. it was sweet. really.

but it wasn't the same as sleeping next to you.

leon has every intention of sleeping in your bed that night. you'd filled the day with a tour of your city, pointing out your favorite and least favorite spots, telling stories that let him imagine the streets as a stage, you as the star, top billing as far as he's concerned. everything had been optional, as you'd feverishly reassured him after every stop. he could change the itinerary with one word. the only mandatory stop had been lunch with your friends. a good sign, he thinks. if you're confident enough to introduce him to the people in your life, then you see this going somewhere, right?

by the time you hit your last stop, it feels like he's emerged from a war zone. leon would know. he's been run ragged on back to back operations before, but this - the pressure of trying to be right for you, to show you who he is, waiting on pins and needles for you to sour on him and push back from the closeness he craves - this is truly exhausting.

you must feel it too, offering to pick up dinner on your way home in lieu of cooking. he waves away apologies, reaches past you to hand the cashier at taco bell his card when you try to pay. the food is gone by the time you pull your car into the parking lot.

both of you have the same idea. you're just as worn out as he is (makes him wonder if you're doing the same thing, all anxious energy, making sure to put your best foot forward, always stumbling and falling into a better impression than the one you set out to make) and bed comes naturally to mind. he slips into the side closest to the door and you stop him immediately, voice teasing.

"uh, that's my side." you poke at his ribs. the awkwardness had melted over the course of the day together. you were playful, eyes bright and laugh loud. touch came easy between you now, both playful and lingering. the comfort that had been stirred up and tossed into disarray by physical proximity had settled back in.

leon's eyes flit to the door over your shoulder. it's not a big deal, he tells himself. the odds of something happening were astronomically low.

but he knows his luck with astronomically low odds. one in a million is too risky. he's got to be closer to the door, won't be able to sleep if he's not. his hands wrap around your waist, urging you on top of him. he doesn't miss the way you stiffen, the momentary hitch of your breath, but you let yourself get swept along all the same, drape yourself over him as he guides you to.

"just sleep like this." leon shifts lower to make more space for you. he presses a kiss to your head.

it takes longer than he expected for you to relax. slowly, when his hands still at your back and his breathing evens out, your limbs loosen. your weight thickens atop him, pressing him further into the mattress. it's all he can do to remind himself that he's tired, that starting something now would lead nowhere fast.

leon stays awake until he's certain you're out cold. the door remains unbreached, your home still safe. he can't bring himself to regret his caution.

when he's finally able to sleep, he sleeps hard. he wakes to your fingers carding through his hair, his cheek cushioned against your chest, completely flipped around during the night. it's the best night he's had in years.

on day three, leon wonders if he should be more obvious.

he's been putting out all the signs, carefully curated his touch to be lingering, to make you burn for more, but each time you settle against him and offer up a contented "this is nice."

does there need to be a neon sign draped around his neck that says "take me for a spin", arrow blinking down toward his crotch? you'd let him press against your back during an afternoon nap, knee wedged between your legs, arm curled around your stomach to keep you next to him. he woke from dreams where he was bolder, where he wasn't afraid of losing you with that lingering confidence, pressed kisses to the back of your neck until that gauzy empowerment lifted.

hell, he'd woken up that morning laying half on top of you, his head nestled in the valley of your chest. you'd pet his hair til he woke from nuzzling your tits in his sleep.

he abandons subtlety during the credit crawl of eight-legged freaks, a 'classic' you had insisted on making him watch. (you'd laughed when he had commented he could keep you safe in the event of giant spiders. he hadn't been joking, but he still hasn't grown tired of hearing you laugh.)

"hey," he asks, hand curling around your thigh. his thumb smooths an arc across your skin, traces the path again and again. "do you wanna..?"

smooth, kennedy.

you look over at him with that same puppy-dog confusion that he's growing familiar with. instead of moving his hand, you draw your legs up and lay them over his lap. how the fuck is he supposed to interpret that?

"do i wanna..?" you parrot back, drawing the words out into the form of a question.

leon hates himself. he wishes he could back out of this. he clears his throat. how the hell do people broach this topic smoothly? he searches for the words, the silence stretching a little too long for comfort. finally, he says the first thing he can.

"like, sex."

real mature, kennedy, he thinks. he wishes he could backpedal, take it all back. he's certain your face warms. before he can issue a take down for his words, (maybe cut out his stupid goddamn vocal cords, if he has the time) you fumble out, "oh. like- right now? uh, i mean, do you want to?"

continuing with the maturity, he turns it back on you.

"i asked you first."

"i don't not want to."

leon shakes his head. his hand cups your ankle. "i really only take 'yeah' or 'hell yeah'."

"i just didn't think giant spiders got you in the mood."

"hey, the more legs the better."

leon knows deflection when he hears it. he's the reigning champ, after all, could play this game with you all day. but he has mercy; he chuckles, lets you get away with it and grabs the remote, declaring it's his turn to pick another movie since your choice was a mood killer.

later that night, curled up in bed with a video playing mindlessly from your tablet, you turn around to face him. he widens his arms to accommodate the movement, circles them tighter once you settle in.

"you're not mad?" you ask, pressing your face into his chest, already hiding from the answer.

"about what?"

"y'know."

"spell it out for me, sweetheart."

he can feel your breath puff against his chest, an exasperated huff. people have done this same thing to him time and time again. he always hated it, being forced to be forthcoming and earnest. (vulnerable, some people call it, but that always made him feel like a wounded bird.) now that he's on the other side, he sort of sees the appeal.

"'cause i don't wanna have sex yet."

there's a 'yet'. that's promising. he saves that little victory for later. his hand rubs slowly, reverently across the planes of your back.

he knows what he's got to say. he knows that he means it. putting the words to it is different. he needs you to understand, has to do this right.

"i didn't come all this way just to hook up."

you hum. "but you still want to."

christ, he's got to man up and say it.

"of course i do." you burrow closer to him, hands fisting against his side. he taps your back firmly. "hey. i'm not finished. i'm attracted to you, okay? like, really attracted to you. it's not- it's not just physical. i want to see if we can make this work. if what we had on the phone was real."

"is it?"

"yeah. i think so."

"sex isn't important to you?"

"it is. it's just not more important to me than you."

you pull your face from his chest, look up at him with big wet eyes. he brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek tenderly, afraid you'll splinter and those tears will cascade down if he's anything but gentle.

"i think so, too."

you curl back into him, your touch melting from desperate to serene. leon can't help but feel accomplished - as though he's threaded the needle perfectly, cut the right wire just before the clock hit zero. gradually, his breathing falls into step with yours.

"besides," he murmurs, half-asleep. he drops a kiss against the top of your head. "your walls are thin. i don't want you catching a noise complaint."

day four is a glimpse of the life he could have, but it makes him realize what he needs to do to obtain it. the sickly feeling pools in his stomach, leaves him picking at the dinner you made. it's good, he swears. then the lie - just all the travel catching up to him.

he knows by day five that he's got to tell you everything. it's no longer a want - he needs you in his life. he's resolved to come clean.

he nearly does it over breakfast. you set his coffee in front of him, muss his hair before you take your own seat, and it almost comes spilling out onto the table.

i work in national security. i'm a federal agent. there's so much i can't tell you, but it's dangerous. god, it's dangerous. there's so much blood on my hands. it doesn't scrub off but i'm worried it will stain your skin. i think i could love you, if you'll let me. please don't say it back.

"plans today?" he says instead, sipping his coffee.

maybe tomorrow.

day six leaves him melancholy.

you'd insisted that today was for him. whatever he wanted, you would accommodate.

leon worries that his answer is boring. he wants a day in with you. an imitation of what it could be like to come home to this. the idle sounds of you milling about the house could lull him to sleep if it weren't for the words lodged in his throat.

you were doing the laundry. not yours, not his, but the, the definite article that's never felt intimate until that very moment. it silenced him to hear you refer to it that way. he's so tired of reading into every word you say, clinging onto every nuance. he'd forgotten how exhausting this stage of a relationship is. you couldn't send him home with dirty clothes, you explained, and he had no argument against that. his eyes traced after you as you puttered around, busying yourself with tidying. you're so at home. of course you are. it's your apartment. but he wants that. he wants to lift you from this place and into his own home, to watch you make yourself at home and busy yourself with the mundane.

he's got to tell you today. he can't do it over text. it's wrong.

when you finally settle down next to him on the couch, drawing a blanket into your lap, you breach the topic gently, give him a chance to do it himself. leon doesn't realize how obvious he is when he gets that look on his face, all forlorn as if he'd collapsed onto a fainting couch, hand over the back of his forehead. drama queen.

"what's up?" you ask, sitting close - but infuriatingly distant, not quite touching him yet.

"nothing. just looking at you."

bless you for trying to make it easy on him. it's always been like pulling teeth to get him to talk. he's trained to resist torture and coercion, should know better than to melt under a gentle hand or the way your body fits against his side.

you hum softly, disbelieving. so that's it, then. the silence, the 'i'm respecting your distance until you break' tactics. damn, you're good. leon takes a deep breath, chest aching with the weight of what he has to say. now or never.

"look- i'm not who you think i am."

you don't miss a beat. "in what way?"

he has to force the words out. he's acutely aware that this could ruin everything. you could kick him out. block his number, never speak to him again. good. it was safer that way. you deserved a normal life.

"i lied to you. about my work."

"yeah, i know."

"i work in security. national security."

"leon. i know."

his brain reels back a few steps, trying to process your words.

"you know?" he repeats, almost offended. how could you know? was this a set up?

you pull your phone from your pocket, tapping a quick query in. you turn the phone to him. article after article, a few interviews pinned to the top. every link is purple, clicked on and read through. the one that draws his eye is tucked at the bottom of the screen, makes his skin crawl to remember.

KENNEDY, HARPER CLEARED OF CHARGES

"i googled you." you set your phone down on the coffee table.

"and you still let me into your house?" he was serious, but you laugh. leon's brow pinches. "how long?"

you shrug, as if this conversation is about the laundry. "a couple months. ever since you told me your last name."

"months? why didn't you say anything?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me yourself. and you did, sort of."

his mind is still reeling. the drama of it all had his wound up tight. where does he put that energy?

he must look as thrown-off as he feels, because you chuckle, sweep the hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"i get why you don't tell people upfront. just don't hide stuff like that from me again, okay? seriously. i'll be mad."

it's more grace than he deserves. your acceptance churns his stomach. is there another meaning behind your words, a resentment coiling in the pit of your stomach?

you crack open your book and lean against his side. he settles his arm around you, moving slow, scared to frighten you away. only one chapter in, you pass him your phone, a take-out app order, asking what he wants. if you're mad, you hide it well.

day seven is a funerary procession. you help him scour your apartment for things he may have left behind, packing them neatly in his suitcase-shaped coffin. it's amazing how his things had flooded into your apartment during the short course of his visit. he had spread out, made himself comfortable. part of it had been testing how his belongings felt next to yours, how it all fit - the final test he had constructed in his mind. you'd passed that with flying colors, clearly. he's lost track of a shirt somewhere along the way, but he isn't concerned about it. he'll be back. he can look for it another time.

both of you linger at your front door. excuses are myriad, flowing from both sides. reasons to double back, reasons to keep his hand on your waist, your fingers in his hair, your lips on his.

but eventually the time becomes too urgent, the threat of missing his flight too real. he'd joked in the car that if he didn't turn up for work they might just send a helicopter to pick him up instead, expecting a laugh. you only smile, a wry twist of your lips that fades too quickly. you reach for your sunglasses and shove them on. the air is tense by the time you pull into the parking garage, cherry scented car freshener cloying.

“you gonna cry?” he teases.

you sniffle.

“oh my god.” he is such a jackass. “don't cry. i'm sorry, sweetheart. it's okay. jesus.”

“i just don't want you to go,” you squeak. your hands fist the steering wheel tight, knuckles turning white.

leon leans over the center console, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. he shrugs you closer to him, hushing you gently.

"let's plan another trip, okay?" he murmurs against your head, placing apologetic kisses there over and over. "c'mon. it's not forever. it's okay. i'm gonna call you when i land. we'll text, like we always do. it's my turn to pick the movie, so-"

fuck. his voice cracks. he clears his throat, blinks quickly to keep his composure.

"so, i'll pick a good one. wednesday night, okay? you, me, and a really good movie."

steadily, his promises slow your tears. the pressure of time detaches you from his hold. you're with him as far as you can go, waving him off to his gate. his heart sinks like a stone. he hates flights, never gets comfortable on them, but the way home feels longer than usual.

made it home he texts the second he's through the door. you're probably asleep. he hopes you are, at least. it's late for you, and--

yay

before he can bother telling you to go to bed, another message pushes through. his house felt empty before, but your message only deepens the feeling, hollows out the hallways and leaves his bed feeling too big, too cold.

i miss you already. call me tomorrow if you can.

leon squints at the screen.

"is that my shirt?"

you stop mid-sentence. caught red-handed - or, rather, grey-shirted.

it's your movie night since he made it back home. you're curled up in bed, your popcorn off to the side. he can fill in the gaps of your room now, knows what extends beyond the screen - and he knows that shirt. an old work tee of his that had mysteriously gone missing after you did the laundry. well-worn and soft. his name stamped on the back in big, block letters. possessive pride stirs in his chest to imagine you wearing his name.

sheepish, you promise, "i'll bring it back to you. how about next month?"

leon shakes his head. he pulls open his calendar, skimming through the busy weeks to clear the time for you.

"keep it. wear it to the airport for me so i know who to look for."

"you're not gonna make me a sign?"

"the shirt is the sign, sweetheart."

"are you gonna wear a matching one with my name on it?"

"i might." he opens another tab, googling how to make custom t-shirts. "you'll have to get here and find out."

connection restored -`♡´-

dividers from @/adornedwithlight

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #resident evil fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #sorry for doubling the word count of part 1 i daydreamed a little too hard.

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syscest · 3 days ago

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early transition trans girl who starts buffering when u ask what her name is 🤝 plural girl who starts buffering when u ask what her name is

memory issues girl who buffers and starts doing math when u ask how old she is 🤝 age regressor girl who starts buffering when u ask how old she is

they are dating 👍

#also they are all me 👍#mod ???#plural #syscest

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mymegrokosmos · 2 months ago

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a little friends with got7 drabble bc that one video of jackson and bam arguing about whether butts are plural on live in their hotel room while everyone else looked super cozy did smth in my brain ig.

i'm also so tired of the migraine life and wrote this on no sleep, enough caffeine to jumpstart at least 3 chipmunks and a prayer that i'd be able to stop crying from the pain before 5am.

you're welcome?

You're laying between mark and yugyeom curled up in comfy clothes on the bed in the hotel room while jackson and bam argue about something stupid and trivial. How you got here is a story your brain is too tired to supply and you're too comfy to ask any further questions about it.

it's post tour, you finally have a day off after this but you’re all so hopped up on adrenaline that you haven't been able to fall asleep yet so the boys came to hang out in the room you’re sharing with mark since it's the furthest away, located at the end of the hallway on your floor. with three interconnected rooms between you and the next non-member room, not counting the managers across the hallway from you, there's a pretty good sound buffer for the other hotel guests tonight.

you've lucked out getting this room because it’s only got one queen bed and the others didn't want to share. they prefer their own space when sleeping so you offered to take the room with the shared bed and mark was all too happy to enjoy a little peace and join you as your roommate. you've shared smaller spaces before, having lived in dorms together throughout your university years, and you've fallen into old habits again. it's easy to live with him even on the road living out of suitcases as you travel europe with your best friends for a business conference or two that you somehow managed to turn into the summer trip of a lifetime with all of your favourite people.

you've had to alternate working remotely with taking time off to make it happen but everyone was more than happy to compromise when it meant the first real vacation you’ve been able to take together since your last big trip around asia after your college graduation.

so here you are after a night of playing drinking games and stuffing yourselves full of takeout on your second last day in a new city with the night crawling by as you change into your comfiest clothes and lounge between two of your best friends.

yugyeom immediately claimed the bed as soon as they all dropped in and mark joined you both after a glass or two too many of red wine. it’s a little quieter on this side of the room and he has more space to spread out his legs in whatever strange position he wants than he did squashed onto the small couch. jinyoung flopped onto the end of the bed at some point to lay his head on your thigh and you all watch the discussion like a tennis match, as jackson and bam launch words back and forth at a speed that makes your brain feel like it's constantly buffering.

you give up a few minutes in, not bothering to keep up once the topic turns unserious. their opinions won't change because you're watching. you let your head rest against mark's shoulder as yugyeom buries his laughter into your shoulder, shaking all three of you a little as his whole body moves with his mirth.

they're paying attention bc they think it's hilarious and you're half asleep, catching jaebeom's eye when he glances up from showing youngjae something on his phone as it gets a little too heated and jinyoung asks him to get involved.

you're so cozy and warm but you wriggle out to collect the favourite child and drag him away from the middle of the argument with the excuse that you're going to grab a late night snack bc you're hungry and jaebeom gives you a grateful look for pulling youngjae out of the line of fire before he turns to lay into the other two. youngjae is a little confused and reluctant to miss the fun by leaving with you but you link your arms together and promise him his favourite treat and he comes along willingly enough.

you don’t even want anything by the time you get to the convenience store so you get yugyeom an iced choco and roll your eyes when youngjae teases you about it. he's happy so you let the comments go and he knows you're too sleepy to really fight him about it as you spend most of the walk back leaning your head against his shoulder. to his credit, he doesn’t try to shake you off once even when you stumble and nearly take him down with you by tripping over your own feet because you're not watching your steps carefully enough.

you were expecting the others to be finished by the time you got back but bam is running around hopping from couch to bed to bed avoiding jackson's wrath and the loudness is doing your head in. you love them but it’s been a very long day and you’re jetlagged and you think if someone screams one more time you might just burst into tears.

you send youngjae over to deliver kyeom's drink since he's none the wiser and just manage to grab jackson by the hand as he bounces past. he blinks and you sigh, arms sliding around his waist to hug him and bury your face against his chest. he pats your head, confused and the noise level ramps down a few notches as bam goes to hide behind jayb and plead his innocence, no longer shrieking now that he isn’t being chased.

"time to go to your own room please."

jackson frowns at the strain in your voice, noticing your distress now and nodding. "okay."

you step back and go to move the others along, a hand on jinyoung's back as you gently push him and bambam towards jackson. they ask you why, spewing questions and protesting but your head is throbbing so you just shake your head and keep pushing them along towards the door. jackson has collected youngjae at this point and you flash him a grateful smile as he redirects bam and jinyoung's attention with one comment. they're so focused on him they don't even notice you're making them leave until you close the door to the room behind them.

you breathe out a sigh and rest your forehead against the door. you can hear mark giggling somewhere behind you but you're almost seeing auras at this point so you take a minute to close your eyes and just try to focus on the cool wood against your skin. you step back and almost immediately run into a hard chest, blinking up at yugyeom. he raises a brow and opens his mouth to say something when jaebeom grabs him by the hood of his sweater and tugs him back. you flash your friend a grateful smile and go to find your meds in your bag.

you're fumbling because your vision is blurry and mark catches on when you stumble a little, leaning against the bed. he hurries over, one arm around your waist steadying you as he gets the pill case out of your hand luggage for you. you lean against his chest, just letting him help as he asks jaebeom to grab your bottle of water off the nightstand and rubs your back.

"thank you."

his smile is gentle, a little worry showing only in his eyes as he takes your expression in when you glance up to mumble your appreciation for the assistance. he sets the pill case on the bed and reaches up to rub your temple as yugyeom comes over, water in hand and helps you get an advil out of the case. you take two and he takes the bottle back after you finish when your hand shakes. he looks concerned so you offer him a soft smile and mark stays close, moving aside so jaebeom can check on you.

you sigh softly. "i'm not made of glass guys, it’s just a migraine."

they relax a little, the older two at least. they know you deal with these and have since childhood. they trust that you know how to handle them.

jaebeom tilts your chin up to look you in the eyes and asks you one question. "what do you need?"

you know you can be stubborn but you also know that you know your own limits best. he's trusting you to tell them if you can wait this out or if you need medical help. you just breathe, eyes closing for a second as mark's hand moves to massage the back of your neck. the relief is instant, it’s not a huge difference but it’s just enough to take the edge off.

you meet jayb's eyes. "just the lights off and a long nap."

he nods. "do you need us to leave?"

you shake your head. sometimes the answer is yes and you know he won’t be offended if you tell him you need them all to fuck off for a while.

"no, i just needed it to be quieter. the others are too loud right now."

he smiles softly and nods. "okay. i'm going to go make sure they're all settled. just ask mark or kyeom to call or come get me if you need anything. we're right down the hall."

"i know." you squeeze his shoulder and he smiles softly as he plants a kiss on your forehead. "tell sseunie i'm not mad please."

he chuckles. "i will. he probably already knows, but i will."

mark hands you off to yugyeom to walk jaebeom to the door. they're whispering and you’re curious but you'll ask later. your head is in too much pain to listen in so you lean against yugyeom's chest and bury your cheek in the soft cotton of his hoodie. he hums softly and rubs your back, swaying slightly as he holds you. you close your eyes and he scoops you up gently into his arms. you'd be embarrassed if you weren't so exhausted. you just mumble a thank you and let him tuck you into the large bed.

when he moves away you reach out blindly, gripping his sleeve and tugging gently. he's warm and you know he was worried.

you don't need to open your eyes to know he’s making that curious puppy expression. "y/n?"

you curl up, moving over to make room for him. "stay and cuddle with me?" you ask, not letting go. "just until i fall asleep?"

he doesn’t respond but he does climb under the covers and pull you against his chest.

"kyeom, i'm going to be fine."

he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and you smile softly. he's so like an oversized cat sometimes.

"it's just a really awful headache. it sucks but i'm going to pass out for a couple hours and when i wake up it'll probably be mostly gone."

he shushes you, hand moving to rub your temples the way he had probably watched mark do earlier. you know your best friend is back when a warm body presses close on your other side and you realize you're shivering.

"you asleep yet?"

you hum out something that resembles a no and a thumb presses at your nape, putting pressure on just the right spot to let you breathe a little easier. you sigh, melting a bit between them and hear them mumbling over your head. you tune it out, just focusing on willing yourself into sleep.

it doesn't take long between the warmth of their bodies and the soft hands on your lower back, neck and temples taking turns soothing the sharp pain just enough to let you be grateful for these two before you drift off.

when you wake up you’re alone but you can hear the shower going and you take a minute to bring yourself back to consciousness, rubbing at your eyes as you sit up. you knock on the bathroom door loud enough to be heard over the water and poke your head in when mark calls out.

"yeah?"

"mind if i come in? i have to pee."

he just laughs and you take that as permission. it's not like you haven’t both seen each other in more compromising positions. he resumes his shower, humming to himself as you go about your business and neither of you really thinks twice about it or pays attention. you nearly bump into yugyeom as you step back out of the bathroom and he blinks in surprise as he steps out of his shoes.

"oh, you're awake."

you hum and stretch. "mhm."

"feeling better now?"

"much. i'm tired but my head doesn't hurt anymore."

he glances between you and the bathroom door. "is mark hyung in the shower?"

you nod.

he blinks.

"where did you go?"

"oh, i went to get some coffee. and breakfast."

you trail along behind him as he heads over to the table and you grin when he opens up the bag of breakfast wraps.

"i got you extra hashbrowns. it's probably not recommended but it seemed like maybe you could use a treat, just don’t tell jaebeom hyung."

"thank you kyeomie."

he just smiles and hands you a cup. "vanilla latte for you."

"kyeom i could kiss you right now."

"can i finish my coffee first?"

you just laugh and plant a kiss on his cheek, letting yourself be wrapped in a one armed back hug as he somehow swings the arm not holding his half empty cup around your neck and pulls you into him. it's comfortable so you don't protest. just then mark steps out of the bathroom, joggers hanging low on his hips as he towels his hair dry.

"coffee hyung?"

"oh, yes please."

he drapes the towel around his neck and accepts the cup yugyeom presses into his hands. it must still be warm because he hums as he sips it and heads over to the closet to finish getting dressed.

"what time is it?"

you push yugyeom's sleeve up to check the watch on the wrist draped around your shoulder.

"you slept through the rest of the night."

"kyeom it was already three in the morning."

"mm and now it's nearly eleven."

you wiggle free to grab a hashbrown and yugyeom falls into the seat beside you.

"did you guys sleep okay?"

"mhm. hyung woke up early to go for a run."

mark joins you then, shaking his still damp hair all over the back of your shirt as he reaches around you for a wrap and his chin finds a home on your shoulder for a minute. "you should text jackson back. he was asking about you earlier."

"jackson joined you for a morning run?"

mark just grunts and yugyeom giggles as you all fall into silence, focused on eating. you have to admit you do feel much more halfway human.

"kyeom you need the shower next or can i commandeer it for a bit?"

he shrugs. "i thought you already joined mark hyung." you just blink at him. "what? is that not what you were doing in the bathroom earlier?"

it should probably be weird that he doesn't even second guess why you'd share a shower with mark but at this point you're not sure yugyeom knows what normal means. you can’t blame him. he was raised by the rest of your friends.

you sigh. "i'm going to shower now. please don’t be an emergency for like twenty minutes. or if you have to, call jaebeom about it."

both men just grin and you take your leave, snatching up your other hashbrown as you head back towards the bathroom.

you're nearly there when you hear him. "call me about what?"

"literally anything they need until i've showered, changed and dried my hair."

you pat jaebeom's cheek as you pass, stepping into the washroom and closing the door behind you.

"did you just volunteer me to be their adult supervision while you shower?"

"i didn't volunteer you for shit jae, you did that all by yourself."

"please tell me there's coffee."

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basedonconjecture · 6 months ago

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As fun as watching Lucanis and Illario work together in The Wigmaker Job is, I have to wonder if it is something they got to do often once they were officially working as Crows. My instinct is to say it isn’t but less because of favoritism reasons and more out of practicality, though I’m sure it felt more like the former. For all Caterina favored Lucanis as an heir, it would make sense that she wouldn’t want to risk them both on the same job. In the same way real world royal heirs aren’t often allowed to travel together. Considering the set up for the summit in ELT, she just strikes me as the type to weigh the risks of putting both of her potential heirs in the line of fire at the same time and deciding against it. Which is more of a realistic explanation (TO ME) as to why she pushed Lucanis into being a mage killer and not also Illario rather than just chalking that up to her solely discounting his abilities.

There’s also something to consider there about whether she, like Lucanis, recognized Illario’s strengths lay somewhere different (handling people, social chameleon, etc.) and that Illario wasn’t satisfied being that since it clearly wasn’t getting him the same recognition, compounding with his jealousy of his cousin and resentment of Caterina. This isn’t to say Caterina was particularly forthright about it in a way that held both her grandsons up as equals or nearly as appreciative of Illario’s talents as Lucanis’ but it’s interesting that she still refers to them both in ELT as her grandsons plural, while in Veilguard she seems to even forget Illario’s there. In the same vein that Illario’s switch up from introducing himself rather humorously as “Dellamorte the Lesser” with Lucanis (someone he presumably trusts does not believe that to be true but to whom this would be understood as a sort of in-joke between the two of them) to his straightforward introduction of himself as the First Talon’s grandson in front of the people who’ve neglected to introduce him at all to Rook.

Taking all of the above to be true, I just can’t help imagining Lucanis getting this contract on Forfex and seeing an opportunity to bring Illario in on it. As deeply empathetic and understanding a person as Lucanis is, it seems to me like he was likely aware of Illario’s feelings and his treatment by their peers in comparison to him and had likely been acting like a buffer between Caterina and Illario specifically for awhile before we meet them. So he gets this contract that seems pretty easy and up Illario’s alley, thus a reasonable excuse to bring him on. Get his cousin out of Treviso for a bit, put his skills to use in a way that maybe feels more fulfilling than however Caterina is using them, have a little fun with his bestie, and maybe -maybe- that might just placate Illario for a little while longer before the succession question ruins even that. But this on the understanding that it absolutely would not have worked in the opposite direction because Illario is lacking the same sway with their grandmother.

Then, when Lucanis returns to find Illario (to all appearances) basically floundering at the worst possible time for it, it tracks that Lucanis would be less inclined to come to his defense and is more critical of him than he likely used to be. He’s seeing his cousin fail to step up in all the ways he thinks he ought to, under circumstances where stakes are much higher than just holding the title of First Talon. For Illario, Lucanis not believing him about Zara and then later not trusting him to handle their business, probably feels like a betrayal in its way. (Note that I said feels like, not is, because it is not equivalent and he’s def unravelling from guilt too but humans are messy and Lucanis has always trusted him before). It makes it almost heart breaking to look back on TWJ and think about just how long they resisted turning on each other, given the dynamic they were forced into.

#this got a little into headcanon territory but whatever whatever #the point is they make me sad and i want them to reconcile for realsies #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #the wigmaker job #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers

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johnono · 2 months ago

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okay so here's the possible headmates of John Lennon. I infodumped about his plurality in general in this post (link)

(content warnings for mentions of a bunch of traumatic stuff)

this is one possible way the system could've been. there are so many possibilities, but what if...

so in the beginning there would be a few headmates like a protector and caretaker that are much needed while being passed around outerworld parental figures. there'd be a headmate who's good at following rules as a form of protection for when they're at Aunt Mimi's house. then also a headmate who fits in better at their mother's (Julia) house and is more free, and when fronting at Mimi's is rebellious. I think the Rebellious John would've been host even tho they lived at Mimi's

there would also be a headmate who I've labelled as In His Own Write John (IHOW) because he's the one who's got all the witty/dark humour and loves poetry, thinks he's a genius, and probably wrote In His Own Write (and A Spaniard In The Works) as well as the Daily Howl newspaper thing when the system was a teen. also wrote a bunch of songs like the Rubber Soul ones

then there would be Teddy Boy John who is the rocker. if there was an Elvis factive considering the way John tried to be just like Elvis, then ofc he would be fronting maybe with Teddy Boy while they're rocking. maybe that earlier Rebellious John and Elvis merged and created Teddy Boy

Julia's death in '58 would've created another trauma holder, and this guy would've been suppressed for years until the system did primal scream therapy, then the trauma holder would actually have been allowed out, and wrote songs like Mother. probably caused other shifts in the system, maybe got some angrier headmate as host, specifically a persecutor kind of guy who will drink as much as possible, for about 2 years, and then later reappear during the Lost Weekend of the 70s

there's a Jealous Guy who loves very deeply, very obsessively. as per his namesake, he would be the most jealous. would've been all over Cynthia, but then not fronting when she's not around. also there for Yoko and Paul

there's also a Horny John who is not emotionally attached like the Jealous Guy, and will fuck any girl and doesn't see a problem with infidelity. ig gets suppressed or something when the system gets with Yoko, makes some brief reappearances tho

meeting Stuart Sutcliffe would've created a new headmate just for him (*cough* they have a crush on him *cough*). the artsy introspective headmate (different to IHOW by like the vibes) who would've gone dormant after Stu's death but then reappeared after meeting Yoko

Brian Epstein whips the Beatles into shape which means Teddy Boy doesn't have the spotlight anymore, and Moptop John forms to replace him, or well, he's there for the public appearances. he maybe split directly from IHOW John so he still has that wit but he's palatable for a larger audience. writes all those early love songs. would be a protector in the way of being a buffer between the weight of fame and the rest of the system

when Julian is born, well, most the system doesn't rlly know what to do, the caretaker would probably pop in sometimes and be like guysss we have a kid remember? we need to spend time with him. but then switches out for Beatle duties (but obvi lack of knowing one is a system would manifest just as, like, oh man I suddenly am feeling really fatherly. and then forgetting about that)

there's a Guilty John who obviously holds all the guilt. another headmate would hurt someone and then the Guilty guy would front to try to fix it. he wrote Jealous Guy (mostly for Paul) and other such songs, while Working Class Hero or someone would've written How Do You Sleep on that very same album for Paul

there's a Nowhere Man who's sorta just a depressed emotionally-distant guy who's searching for,, the answer,, something. around for a while but fronts more at home during the psychedelia era, which means the Jealous Guy is around less

in the psychedelic era, the guy I will call Dr Winston O'Boogie replaces Moptop in the public appearances department. he ate acid for breakfast and helped make Sgt Pepper's and Magical Mystery Tour. he would be into Hinduism and psychedelic sort of spirituality

this feels like the spot to pop the Walrus, because the Walrus has got to be a headmate. the trouble is, the Walrus is some abstract concept that even I don't fully grasp. but maybe he's a fictive of the walrus from Alice In Wonderland, and is therefore a bastard. or he's?? maybe he's just O'Boogie. who knows

and I reckon there's a Jesus John, because somebody's gotta be the holder of that ever-growing ego. probably said he was bigger than Jesus and then Moptop had to go do damage control lol. was the one who thought he was the Second Coming that one time in the psychedelic era. basically has a fixation on Christianity, will watch preachers on the TV, and would probably decide to look for the Holy Lance so he can rule the world

Yoko would've restructured the system. there would be Joko who becomes host, and y'know I bet she's a woman. there's probably other headmates who aren't men, but I especially think Joko was a woman. and basically she's just like Yoko fr and will cling to her much more than the Jealous Guy because she wants to dissolve into Yoko. almost everyone in the system probably loves Yoko, but Joko is the most intense. or, she could be a fusion between the Stu John and Jealous Guy

there would also be the introduction of the Working Class Hero who's basically fiery about activism. if he was around before, he only became host after the end of the Beatles. quite radical, wants to strip himself of the Beatles, is anti-religion (Jesus John is still around during this guy's hosthood tho), anti-education, and otherwise anti-establishment, very peace activism and loves to yap about all his political views. in fact, he's probably split directly from Teddy Boy but is more interested in activism than being a nuisance like Teddy Boy. Joko and others probably dig activism too, but WCH is the most radical about it

and there would be the Spiritual John who maybee doesn't form for a while, maybe not even til the househusband years. but this guy is all into meditation and tarot and the planets, different to O'Boogie cuz this isn't psychedelic

there would maybe be like fragments formed from the heroin. basically a persecutor who thinks they're doing the right thing by relapsing and stuff. I'm sure there are a bunch of fragments who hold the addictions. these most persecutory headmates, along with that persecutor that formed after Julia's death, get to take a front seat for the first 9 months of the Lost Weekend which was just a bender of booze and coke and whatever else

then in the househusband era we maybe have the caretaker and Joko merge to make the Househusband. all this guy wants to do is bake bread and look after Sean and watch the wheels go round and round. he's the host from '75 til, well, the end. obviously others still front but it's mostly Househusband until 1980 when someone else pops in and starts writing songs again

annnd yeah :D there's bound to be other headmates I'm missing but this is good enough

#pluralennonity

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