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primofate · 2 months

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Confessions Series - Part 2: Description [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

In a nutshell: He asks if you have your eyes set on someone. You start describing HIS features and watch for his reaction. (Hint: He likes you too)

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Overheard)

Warnings: The usual, haven't written in a while, please forgive mistakes, bit of angst in Diluc (couldn't help it), I am a sleep deprived mother, some profanity, for some reason did not feel like writing Zhongli though he's one of my faves.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gaming, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Wriothesley, Xiao, gn!reader

Personal Favourites: Diluc, Wriothesley

Aether

"Yeah, I do," you start. "He's very selfless...He's always running around helping other people,"

Aether nods, intense gaze in his eyes while listening.

"Hmm...He has...a partner. Like a companion he always travels with..."

Aether's brows start to furrow and his head tilts the slightest bit. Paimon flying next to him has no clue who it is whatsoever.

"He's not originally from Teyvat...He's on a journey, you see..." this is where you start getting nervous

You see it click in Aether's head slowly, and his eyes start to widen the slightest bit

"Hey, that sounds an awful lot like you, traveller! Why have we never met this person before, Y/N?" Paimon asks and you only smile.

"P-Paimon," Aether glances at her and then back to you. It's silent for a moment. Paimon is super confused.

But Aether being Aether didn't want to get the wrong idea and racks up the courage to ask you one last question. "He's on a journey...to look for his twin sister?"

You smile the brightest smile you've ever given him. "Correct!"

"Ah...Well..." Aether starts to feel the heat on his cheeks. "That's..." he doesn't say anything else for a few seconds. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just...I'm happy!"

Is basically flustered when he realizes you've technically just confessed to him.

Albedo

"Simply put, I think he's dedicated to his craft," You shrug and smile

"...An admirable trait," he responds.

"He's frequently in Dragonspine. He spends a bit of time in his lab there," you decide to just go straight for the obvious.

Albedo pauses. "I...see..." Turns to you with a small smile "I wasn't aware that you were that fond of me,"

"Now you know," you simply say and try to play it off with a wave of your hand.

He chuckles under his breath and strides over to you while saying. "Well then, I suppose it's my turn to talk about the person I've set my eyes on,"

Proceeds to describe you accurately, down to your likes and dislikes. In his eyes, you seem like something so precious and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

Alhaitham

"Hmm... Sort of," you explain. "He's a little...hard to reach,"

Alhaitham "...and you still pursue him?"

You laugh a bit "I'm hardly pursuing him, I'm just...observing. I like watching him, even though he has the most unreadable face I've seen,"

Alhaitham goes quiet for a moment. He catches on fast, he already has an idea but is cautious about what he says. "...I see," he doesn't ask anything else, but you continue to offer information.

"He likes reading. Really smart guy...but kind of no nonsense type. Very straight to the point," You begin to feel a little nervous so you pretend to read your own book with a small shrug.

The silence is deafening.

"I suspect that type of person will be hard to put up with," he suddenly says aloud and you chuckle in response.

"Possibly, but he seems to be putting up with me too...I guess?"

He suddenly closes his book and leans forward to pry the one in your hands away. He locks his gaze with you. "...'Putting up' is hardly the word I would use." his lips twitch the slightest bit before continuing. "He has little to no patience for other people...so if he keeps you around...perhaps it signals something else,"

"Something else...As in, I'm special?"

Again he quiets for a moment, before he stands up, chair scraping the floor. "...Precisely," he turns to start walking out of the library, waving a hand behind him. "I'll pick you up in the morning tomorrow,"

Ayato

"I do, but he's a very busy sort of man,"

Ayato "Is that so?" he pours tea for you.

"Quite. He's also a very important person,"

He hums and watches the billowing steam from the tea. "It sounds as if I might know this person," but he genuinely doesn't know it's him, he just thinks its another noble.

"...You most definitely know him. He has a sister. Lovely girl." This is where you avert your gaze from him in fear of him instantly connecting the dots.

He talks in pauses "A...sister..." His mind is starting to make connections but he can't be quite sure yet. So he prods further. "...Does she happen to have a vision?"

"A cryo vision holder, yes," you're biting the inside of your lip at this point. There's a moment of silence before you hear Ayato laughing rather gleefully, like he was amused by a story.

"I see." he ends with a chuckle. "I apologize for being so busy, Y/N," he smiles at you "I promise I'll do my best to arrange my priorities in order to spend more time with you,"

Baizhu

"He takes his job too seriously and can be quite reckless...Sometimes he even puts himself in danger,"

Changsheng catches on immediately. The snake had already known for a while. Baizhu was just being dense. "Oh here we go," the snake half whines.

Baizhu gives it a weird look before turning his attention back to you. "That does sound reckless,"

"I've told him a couple of times to think about himself too...but I guess he's just really passionate about his job,"

Baizhu sort of shrugs, "What IS his job?"

"...Well for starters he owns a pharmacy around town,"

To Baizhu the realization hits all too slowly. It's not that he was slow or dense, but he was having a hard time believing that it was him you were talking about, specially when you hadn't said it outfront.

"...You do realize I'm the only one who owns a pharmacy around town?" he asks, eyes piercing through you and awaiting your answer.

Changsheng is the one who answers for you. "Yes you ridiculous doctor, Y/N's pertaining to you!"

It's the first time you've seen him blush and he turns his head away when he does so. "I-I see, well...that's rather, unexpected...but not unwelcome,"

Clears his throat "Just give me a moment"

Changsheng would roll its eyes if it could.

Bennett

"Has a lot of energy...Sometimes I wonder where he gets all of it. I really like him for that though."

Deflates as soon as you start talking about your "crush". What kind of answer was he expecting anyway? That you had eyes for him?

"He has a bit of a...problem when it comes to luck," you continue

Bennett stops, you look at him and you can practically see the gears in his head starting to turn a little faster.

"Y-Y/N? Are you talking about..." then the gears suddenly stop. "Oh what am I saying, it can't be. Ahahaha! Let's go!" starts walking again as if nothing happened

Your jaw drops and you're forced to just DIRECTLY tell him you're talking about him.

"...Oh...Oh! F-For real?! Oh...Sorry... I just thought... there's no way! B-But, I'm really glad! Really!"

Chongyun

"Hmm...He's a little shy...but he's very responsible,"

Chongyun stares at you intently and nods as if taking notes.

"He doesn't like spicy stuff,"

Chongyun nods twice, eagerly.

"He's very dedicated in learning about thaumaturgy,"

Chongyun blanks out, brows furrow but still nods. Slowly.

"He's really good with a claymore too!"

Chongyun stops and stares at you, you see a hint of red gracing his cheeks "Y/N...You can't possibly be...talking about... m-m-m-"

Can't seem to say it, so you outright say that it is, in fact, him.

Combusts into a tomato red

Cyno

"How do I say this...He's a pretty strict guy." The two of you are playing Invokation TCG during this convo.

"Mmhmm..." Cyno is focused on his cards, frankly he doesn't give a craps ass who you're into. He didn't even know why he asked, he just dug himself a hole.

"...but he really only takes his work seriously. It's his job to be serious, I guess. I think that's what Matras need to do," he finished his turn and its yours now, though he's still studying his cards intently. Until you get to the Matra part.

"He's a Matra?" You rarely see a surprised face on Cyno so you focus your gaze on him. "Which one?" He further asks. Honestly he looks about to murder someone.

You blank out a bit at how intense his stare was, "Well...You know. That one, the one who's really into Invokation TCG,"

He immediately follows up without missing a beat "I don't know anyone else who's into--" then it clicks.

It was so damn silent for a good 10 seconds. You clear your throat, tear your eyes off him "Um, it's your turn,"

STILL doesn't budge until he finally goes back to his cards with a whisper, you can't really tell but he looks slightly bashful and you can barely, BARELY hear him "...If I win then we go on a date,"

"Okay, and if you lose?"

Cyno "...I'm not gunna lose,"

"See, I told you he's a really serious guy,"

Dainsleif

"I think he's a very dedicated person," you get lost in thought a little, thinking about him. "Whenever I look at him...Sometimes I feel as if there's a certain sadness in him... Perhaps he blames himself for not being able to protect his nation,"

He IMMEDIATELY knows. And he knows that you hurt for him too. How could he not?

"He searches for answers... I don't know for how long, I suppose a long, long time," you close your eyes, imagining how long he must have been wandering Teyvat.

You only open your eyes when you feel a hand brush against yours. He's looking straight at you, neither happy nor sad. "...You don't have to feel that way, for my circumstances,"

The brush against your hand disappears and reappears next to your cheek, his fingers gently resting on it "...Knowing that you feel that way, has taken away some of the burden that I shoulder,"

His gaze suddenly hardens and his voice drops to a whisper, "But please, just don't end up in the same way as everyone else,"

Diluc (I don't know why I end up writing a whole novel for this guy. I guess he's my OG favourite)

You pause for a moment, wondering how to describe Diluc. "...Sometimes... I feel as if I know a lot about him and yet... he's still far off in the distance,"

Diluc, rifling through paperwork, doesn't even look at you. "...That tells me nothing about him," there's a bit of bite in his statement.

You sigh a little, "I mean, simply said he's a hardworking man. He always has Mondstadt's best interests in mind...but he prefers to work alone,"

He's silent, but you can still hear the paper shuffling.

"....but people love him. They care for him. I suppose I understand why he keeps a distance but..." at this point you don't even realize that you're just rambling and staring into space. Sort of in a daze of thinking out loud. "...isn't it lonely? ...I suppose I shouldn't assume how he feels. Maybe he's fine with it...I just wonder how long till he sees us..." there's silence, no ruffle of papers, you're still just staring at the bookshelf and you continue in a monotone voice. "...or sees me,"

You blink, and all of a sudden its as if a magic spell is cast on you and you wake up to the reality that you've been rambling about him. You sit up straight "Oh," then turn to him with a careful smile. You don't think he knows what or who you're talking about anyway. "I better get going," you stand, "Jean must be waiting for me."

You leave, and he doesn't stop you.

You don't really think anything of it, feeling as if your whole monologue was very vague...but to your surprise he knocks at your door in the evening, there's a bit of rain falling.

"Diluc? You're drenche--"

"I see you,"

The determination in his voice lulls you to keep quiet and only stare up at him, wondering if he had more to say, but instead of saying something, he leans in, wrapping his arms around you and resting his forehead on your shoulder, as if he had been defeated.

You only welcome his embrace, and, for the first time in a long time. Diluc finally feels like he's home.

Gaming

"Passion!" You nod your head as you say it. "He knows what he wants to do and is incredibly dedicated to it!"

Gaming looks surprised, has no idea you're talking about him. "Huh! That's really cool!" He thinks he's the total opposite. "Wish I could be as dedicated as him."

You kind of laugh out loud and he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Gosh you really sell yourself short," you shake your head "Anyway, this guy, right, he kinda works two jobs," you put out your hand to count one and two "One, for the Secure Transport Agency and two, he's in a Wushou Troupe,"

Gaming instantly straightens his back and looks at you wide-eyed. You figure you had to be direct when it came to him otherwise he'd never get it with how modest he was.

"...You're...talking about...me?" You smile at him sympathetically.

"You know, Gaming, I wish you saw yourself the way others saw you. You're a great person,"

Big smile, but legit looks like he's about to cry. "Between the two of us? I think you're greater Y/N,"

Heizou

"...Honestly he's kind of a flirt," you raise your eyebrows at the fact and kind of question yourself why you like this kind of person. "Makes me wonder if he does that to everyone, you know?"

Heizou hums and puts his hand under his chin in a "thinking position"

"That's not enough evidence to go by. Perhaps we can investigate this guy together to see if he's worthy,"

You look at him, pursing your lips while musing and giving him a suspicious look. You're not sure if he's figured it out.

He's got no idea. I mean, it was a pretty general description. "Any distinguishing features?" he asks.

You look at him in a deadpan manner. "Red hair, I guess. And moles under his eyes,"

He looks back at you with a matching blank face.

Then breaks into a wide, close eyed grin. "I see! From experience, that person is truly trustworthy,"

You sigh a little, "Is he though?"

He chuckles heartily. "I promise you he is," offers you his hand with a genuine smile. "Let me show you,"

Itto

"Ummm... big, tall, strong looking guy. Intimidating at first look but he's actually a dork," you explain.

Itto crosses his arms above his chest with an unamused face. "Tch! No way! Ain't no one taller than me in Inazuma!" Then he looks smug again. "Anyway, keep goin'. What else?" Only asked you because he wants to see what your "type" is.

"...Popular? Nah... Infamous is the word, I think. He kinda gets into a lot of trouble,"

Itto raises a brow "You serious? Whaddyou want with someone like that?" as if he wasn't a troublemaker himself.

"I mean... He also loves life and somehow always sees the good side of things."

Itto "Eh... guess that's a good thing..." folds his arms behind his head and huffs.

This guy is never gunna get it so you drop more obvious hints. "He's an oni who has his own gang."

For a split second he looked like he was going to get it, and then... "WHAT?! There's another oni who wants to challenge the Arataki Gang?"

"That's not what I--"

punches his fist onto his palm "Lead the way Y/N, let me at 'em!"

"I'm talking about you!"

"Huh?"

"Itto, there's no other oni around town!" leave it to him to make you exasperated.

He quiets for a few seconds. "...But Y/N..."

You expectantly stare at him, curious what he was going to say about your confession.

"...Did you just call me a dork?"

Of course that's what he picks up on.

When he finally processes it though, he's stoked and on an all time high.

Kaeya

"...good at talking to people, and he knows it... Exudes charisma like he breathes air," You're saying this with a glare.

He chuckles and rests his head on his fist. "Why, pray tell, do you look angry when saying that?"

"Not angry..." you mumble under your breath, eyes trailing away from him. "Just... probably a lot of people like him,"

"And you don't like that?" He smirks. He totally knows.

"...No...Well...I'm okay with it... It's just... I think he's so much more than what he shows to others,"

That, he wasn't expecting. He actually feels genuinely touched.

"Sure he jokes around a lot...Is good at making people feel comfortable...but he's also kind...and you can always count on him," there's a faraway gaze in your eyes now, a small smile on your face. "To me, he's...a safe space."

Kaeya's smile drops. It looks like he's unhappy and you think that maybe you've made a mistake. Still...there's no way he knows that it's him, right? It was kinda vague...

You're about to stand and excuse yourself but he catches your wrist easily. "...You know..." he starts, meeting you eye to eye. He looks at you as if he's looking into your soul, his eyes the gentlest you've seen them.

"You make it so hard, not to fall deeper in love with you,"

Lyney (I have no idea how this ended up so dramatic)

"He isn't exactly a trickster...but he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve,"

Lyney "Oh?" Raises an eyebrow. Something kind of clicks in him, but he shakes it off. "The good kind or the bad kind?"

You stall a little, thinking of the answer, knowing that he's Fatui. "The...good...kind,"

"You don't sound very sure," he gives you a lopsided smile.

"It's complicated," you admit. "Regardless of the circumstances though, I think he's a great magician,"

You watch his face turn into surprise quite quickly, but he still looks and feels unsure of himself. "Oh, perhaps...I can learn a thing or two from him?"

Your smile turns forced and hard. He can't be serious? He STILL doesn't know, or...what?

"I...Well..." You don't know what to say next, but he seems to get the idea.

"Sorry, have I put you in a hard place? Ahaha..." Scratches the back of his head. "My apologies, I was just curious,"

This, for some reason, really puts you off and you feel as if you've been rejected, even though you technically had not outright told him that you're talking about him.

It seems silly for you to get upset, but you are. So you stand, and make a request of him. "Can we... just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" and you give him some sort of excuse that you need to run an errand or something, and you're off, leaving him feeling...guilty. But he doesn't know why. Or does he?

Lyney would look like the type of person who would be confident about himself. But, really, as a magician, he had to be 1000% sure about something before he went ahead with it, and so...that's where his doubt stemmed from.

Lynnette is really the one who knocks some sense into him. "...and you...let Y/N leave?" after hearing the story from him.

"Oh, Lyney... Regardless of what Y/N feels... For you, next to Freminet and I, is there someone else that you love dearly?"

That's how he ends up at your doorstep. Though you've seen his disappearing rose trick hundreds of times, he was the most sincere at that moment, when he says sorry that he didn't get the hint and to give him a chance.

Neuvillette

"Serious person. He seems to put his work first, above all else," you say. "I respect him a lot for that,"

Neuvillette is interested in what you say, but doesn't know at all that it's him. "He does sound quite respectable," he says while looking through some files.

"A long time ago he said that he feels like he's an outsider...but really I feel like there isn't anyone who knows Fontaine the way that he does,"

Neuvillette, moves the file he was reading downwards, just to look at you questioningly. "He's from Fontaine?" this was surprising to him.

"Well...he currently resides in Fontaine, yes," you nod.

"Ah," he answered curtly. "And I have never met him?" he asks.

"...He's very busy." you bite your lip, about to say something and you know that the next sentence is the point of no return. "He's the Iudex...so it's hard to catch him,"

You swear you can hear your heart hammering in your chest.

You see him put his files down and just stare at you with a sort of...unsure look.

His shoulders relax, he wasn't even aware he had been tense that whole time. "That... must have taken a lot of consideration and courage to say," he clears his throat.

You only nod your head slowly, moving your gaze away from him with an awkward smile. Hand absentmindedly grabbing a book and flipping through the pages...you had no idea what you were doing out of nervousness.

"I apologize...I'm unfamiliar with what to do in these kinds of situations... However," he pauses and seems to think carefully about what he was going to say next. "Please don't take it as a rejection. I'd be honored to navigate this with you, if you would so graciously have me,"

Scaramouche

"He's an asshole," you bite back a laugh.

He instantly knows.

"Actually he acts all tough only to give in to his inner-kind-of-agreeable-personality,"

He snorts

"What? Am I wrong?" you challenge him. You KNOW that he knows. The two of you have been hovering around each other for a while, and there's a certain closeness between the two of you. Though that line was never crossed.

He doesn't answer you back but prods you more. "Is that all? You like that he's an asshole? Are you some type of masochist?"

You almost laugh. "No, you moron. I'm saying he has a weird way of showing he cares. He's always biting my head about not being careful enough. But if he really didn't care he wouldn't be screaming at me, you know what I mean?"

Scaramouche grumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms, turning away from you.

"Say that again?" You ask, not hearing what he said.

"...I said, you're not as stupid as I thought you were," shrugs his concealed embarrassment off and turns back to you all nonchalant again. "Anyway, stop yapping and get going, we got things to do,"

Snatches your hand and starts pulling you to walk with him.

Tartaglia (I feel like this is ridiculously short but I also feel like Tartaglia would have known a LONG time ago if the two of you had the feels for each other)

"Oh man...Probably the most reckless man I know,"

Also knows. Instantly. But shuts his mouth just so he can listen to you talk about him, but it gets deep real quick.

"In my opinion he's a handsome guy. Real charming," you smirk the tiniest bit. "but I don't know if I can keep up with him, honestly. It's a little hard not knowing when he's going to come back...or if he's even gunna come back at all,"

You weren't going to hide the fact that you were scared shitless he didn't return from Fontaine for ages. You legitimately thought he had died.

Tartaglia stops you there, by suddenly cradling your cheek. "Y/N," he's wearing a pained expression. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it's your job, right?" You reassure him, and shrug.

He sighs "Yes, but I'll promise this to you as I've promised my family," he smiles, the most confident smile you've seen on him. Even more confident than when he wields his blades. "I'll come back to you, I always will,"

Wriothesley

"Er... How do I say this... He kind of has some... big boss energy?"

"Oh?" he sips at his tea, glancing at you while he looks at today's paper. "So he's a bigshot?" he asks curiously.

"Somewhat, yes. Intimidating at first look, but...he just has a great sense of responsibility," you pick at the selection of cakes and cookies he has.

"Huh," he lets out in a quick huff. In the deepest, DEEPEST parts of his mind there is a NANOSECOND that he thinks its him but it gets erased so quickly he's not even sure that he had thought about it.

"Sounds like a good person... Any interesting, weird quirks?" he grins as he says this, yet again glancing at your expression.

Your lips tremble a bit at what you're about to say, because you're SURE he was going to get it once you say it. You gulp and feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand before you say out loud "He likes tea. I kind of wonder if it's an addiction," you can't meet his eyes.

He's looking at the paper he's reading but nothing.registers.in.his.brain.its.like.it.stopped.working.

You shift in the uncomfortable silence but he calmly folds up the newspaper and places it on his table. "...I'm inclined to ask, because it would be embarrassing if I got the wrong idea,"

"Mmhmm," you pop a cookie in your mouth to distract yourself.

"By any chance, are you...talking about me?"

"Mm," you nod your head, still not looking at him and glue your eyes on the cookies instead, out of embarrassment.

Suddenly chuckles. You brave a peek at him, now covering his eyes with a single hand, head tipped back to rest on his chair.

You're not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"Sorry, no, it's just... I didn't think it would happen this way." Visibly takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. Seems to have regained his composure and is back to his confident self, smiling at you. "Thanks Y/N, I... don't think it's much of a secret that I enjoy your company too. I'm just a little embarrassed that you beat me to it...some big boss energy huh?"

Xiao

"...He takes on everything by himself. I worry about him," You look at the stars as you say this. Xiao doesn't say anything.

"But I'm glad that he's opening up a lot more now. It's great to see him among friends,"

Xiao has a feeling at this point, that its him you're talking about, but he still doesn't say anything and keeps his gaze in front of him rather than on you.

"Yes, the road in front of him is long but...he's also already come a long way," you sigh a little "The time of Rex Lapis has long gone, but he still sticks to his principles. I think his dedication is part of what I like about him,"

This is when he turns to you, blank look on his face, contemplating on what to do. When you turn to meet his gaze, its then that he decides to bridge the gap between the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, leaning in sideways to catch your lips in a chaste and rather shy kiss.

"You should give a bit of credit to yourself, for putting up with me all these years, Y/N,"

End!

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#genshin impact #genshin fluff #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #gaming x reader #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #aether x reader #cyno x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader

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martyrlamb · 7 months

Text

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

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garfunklefield · 2 months

Text

Pools and Honey

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/Kento Nanami Warnings: reader has a temperature kink, pool .. fondling? outdoor sex but it's in his backyard, creampie, grinding, fondling, intense sexual tension, Nanami is the consent king, praise, dilf!Nanami, there is like a twenty year age gap, Nanami is divorced and also wears glasses again :P, Yuji and Sukuna are his kids, fluff, there is plot to this porn Word count: 4857 DESC: You become the live-in maid and babysitter for the hot dilf Kento Nanami.

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You got a match. It had been several days since you had put your resume up on a babysitting website, in hopes of someone swiping yes on you. All you needed was somebody to say “Yes of course watch my child, you stranger!” But it wasn’t looking good. You wanted to give up and continue going to your dead-end job, giving up your dream of raising children in hopes of being a good mother someday.

But then you got a match. It was a man older than you, about his forties, with two young boys. He was polite in his message, detailing how pay would work even the boys’ temperament. They were twins, ages 7. Ryomen and Yuji. Yuji was a blessing to the world with a habit of forgetting stranger danger, whereas Ryomen seemed to be … spunky as his dad put it. You knew it was another word for a problem child. They looked adorable in their photos, although you found yourself staring more at their father than anything else.

Kento Nanami… From the way he dressed in that selfie with him and his boys, the background of a few other photos, and the pay he was offering you could tell he was rich. A rich dilf who was offering a higher salary than what you were getting at your current job. It made your mouth water thinking about how all your bills would be paid.

Then you got to read his message more. It was polite and well-structured, with good grammar. Formal, a bit too formal if you thought about it but you didn’t mind. He was looking for a live-in maid and babysitter, who could watch his children 24/7 without hesitation.

He wanted you to move in? Well not entirely. He wanted to ease into the live-in maid situation and get the boys accustomed to you. If the first meet-up didn’t work you knew there wouldn’t be any hope for the future. It wasn’t looking too grim, and you were elated at the thought of living in a big house for free with a rich older man. You shot him back a simple reply and soon the date was set to meet the Nanami’s.

It was hard to pick out what to wear and you decided on something more conservative than you’d typically go for. It was about the boys today and you wanted to make sure you didn’t scare off their father either by dressing too scandalously. You wore a big black turtleneck and some loose-fitting jeans, all to cover your figure.

Walking up the steps of his house it was hard to stare. Ivory walls that shot up off the ground and about three stories from what you could gauge. Who really needed all of that house? No one! Nonetheless, you quickly moved through the driveway and the maze of plants, approaching the front door. It was black with a large gold doorknob. Inside you heard nothing with no sign of life from the outside of the house either. But once you touched the ring doorbell, because of course what rich person doesn’t have that, you saw lights flick on. Not just lights but you heard a loud crash, followed by clambering to get to the door.

Two boys, you knew it. There was some commotion between the two of them before you heard a man’s deep and soothing voice break their tension, followed by a “Yes Dad” from the boys. God, he looked and sounded hot? You were completely and utterly done for. Dating your boss was a complete no in this field, something you knew from experience. But you couldn't help it! You had a type. Dilfs.

The door opened and you were met with a man who you soon realized was much taller than you anticipated. He was blonde, hollow cheekbones filled his face, and he stared at you with dead tired eyes. Kento, as you remembered, had on the same pair of thick aviator glasses that were perched upon his thin nose. He wore a simple outfit of a button-up shirt and some slacks, and you noticed a fancy watch on the wrist of the hand he moved to shake yours with.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he spoke politely, not bothering to gaze at you as intensely as you were staring at him. You reminded yourself to blink and you quickly returned his handshake, trying not to grip him too firmly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you two, Mr. Nanami. I’m very excited to meet Yuji and Ryomen,” you smiled, tilting your head a bit. You mainly did that to see a bit of the inside better, and to gauge where the boys were.

You heard another loud crash and Kento retracted his hand, turning his head to find where the noise was coming from, “Speak of the devil. Boys,” he warned, his voice edging a faint shout. You heard some scrambling and you saw two of the cutest boys in the world scurry up to their father.

You could instantly tell who was who, even though they were practically identical. Yuji had wide eyes full of wonder, with a green dinosaur shirt on and pink spiky hair pushed downwards against his forehead. His cheeks were plump and fat, bouncing upwards into a smile when he saw you. Then there was Ryomen. He looked agitated, with his hair spiked upwards and a plain black shirt adorned on his small body. He looked at you for a moment and his eyes widened before he averted his gaze quickly.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you turned your attention to the both of them, bending down and resting your hands on your knees to meet their eye level. You spoke your name and then smiled, first at the boy who wasn’t looking at you, “You’re Ryomen, right? I like your hair. My brother likes to make his all messy like that too.”

The little boy looked back at you with a sheepish expression, before nodding, “S’nothing,” was all he said, looking over to his brother. It was as if he expected Yuji to be the center of attention once you were done talking to him and you felt your heart squeeze. You knew why. Problem children never got looked at the same as well-behaved children, especially if the two were side by side. From the way Ryomen looked at you, he knew you’d become busy with Yuji. He was always cast aside, compared to his brother, probably even ridiculed for it. All he needed was attention. And it didn’t seem Yuji cared if you paid attention to him either way, as he was now busy trying to get his father to pick him up.

“Yuji, why don’t you say hi to your babysitter?” Kento asked blankly, his voice remaining flat as he spoke.

Yuji glanced at you and waved, smiling widely, “Hi!” Before turning back to his dad and making grabby hands.

You smiled and waved back, turning your head to Ryomen again, “Is your favorite color black? Mine’s dark red, it’s kinda similar if you think about it,” you spoke calmly and delicately, in a way you knew he hadn’t experienced very often.

He nodded, cracking a toothy smile, “Mhm. And green. I like green … cause it’s like leaves,” Ryomen motioned to the plants behind you.

Kento cleared his throat and you gazed back at him, “Why don’t you come inside? Make yourself comfortable.” You nodded and followed suit, coming inside.

Yuji and Ryomen played on the floor, wrestling around or using their action figures. You sat on the couch a few feet away from their gorgeous father, who spoke occasionally to you. You thought it would go a bit differently, with more questions on your qualifications or your flexibility. But instead, he seemed to be observing how you acted with his children. The boys seemed instantly comfortable, Yuji it wasn’t surprising, but for Ryomen, you felt slightly surprised. From the way he was described, you were expecting a boy who was too bratty to even look at you respectfully. Instead, he was polite and soft-spoken. Every time he accidentally stepped on your foot or chucked a toy in your direction he’d apologize quickly and go back to doing his activity, nothing malicious about him.

“They’re cute,” you murmured, getting lost in just watching them be kids. God your ovaries just hurt at the sight of them, it made you wonder why it was taking you so long to find someone to settle down with. Well maybe…

You shook your head. No. You couldn’t date your boss, especially with his kids in the mix. Not to mention, he probably had a wife. This big of a house, and with his looks? There was no way he was single. He had to be married and you let out a sigh as you accepted this dilf was out of reach.

“They’re very comfortable with you. With the last babysitter, they were too shy,” Kento nodded as he spoke, using his left hand to motion to his kids. You glanced and your heart sped up. He didn’t have a ring. His hand was completely bare aside from the watch. Was he actually single? There was no way in hell he was single.

“I’m glad. Ryomen’s such a sweetheart and so is Yuji, of course,” a small smile bit on your lips as you watched the two boys wrestle around on the floor without a care in the world. God they were cute and god did your uterus hurt.

“People don’t typically say that about Ryomen,” he sighed, pressing his index finger against the middle of his glasses to push them up, “I’m glad to hear something different for once.”

It was sad but you knew it was true. Before you could reply, Kento spoke again, “I think I want to hire you right away as a full-time maid, if you’re willing to accept. I have a good feeling about this.”

You quickly learned the status of your boss's romance life after overhearing a few too many phone calls. He was divorced with a wife who had a thing for younger men. They’d often talk on the phone in a way that made your skin crawl. So tense and so passive-aggressive. You picked up the fact that she must’ve cheated or done something to push him over the edge, but none of it was confirmed.

The boys would spend every weekend with their mother and whatever boyfriend she had then. He didn’t mind being alone with you, he seemed to enjoy it. Kento would speak casually about a book he was reading, or just about something random that had happened to him that day. As if he was a friend or polite coworker, rather than your actual boss. It didn’t help either that your attraction for him grew. Every time his hand would accidentally brush against yours or his eyes would graze against your skin, you felt yourself become as light as a feather.

You wanted to feel his cold hands rake up and down your body, grabbing you in ways you knew he never would. You wanted to feel him become hard underneath your touch and revel in the fact you could make such a man bend to your will. But you had no hopes of him ever liking you like that. His glances were long, sure, but very PG. You never caught him once staring at your ass or a bit of cleavage through your shirt. His eyes were always on your face, with a polite faint smile ghosting his lips.

Today was Saturday. The two young boys were gone and it was you and Kento alone, sitting on his long white couch. He was a few feet across from you, legs casually crossed as he read some book you weren’t too familiar with. It was growing increasingly hot in the room and you couldn’t tell if it was your hormones or the fact the AC hadn’t been lowered in a few hours. It was almost summer so the fact it was getting warmer wasn’t too surprising. It was maybe mid-afternoon, with the sun shining through his back screen door.

You had eyed it for a long time before even asking him about the pool in the back. He didn’t typically use it as you soon learned, instead opting to sit and read. Always read. But it felt different. You tugged at the collar of your shirt and made some comment about how it was becoming too hot to handle.

Kento’s eyes glanced from one of the pages to your face, before setting down the book on his lap, “You’re hot?” He raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

You nodded, “I might grab some ice to eat if that’s okay,” you motioned to the kitchen in the other room, separated by a half wall.

“You can go swimming,” he suggested, nodding his head over to the glass door, “It’ll cool you down.” A different look filled your boss’s eye as he then added, “I’ll join you.”

With that, Kento stood up and headed upstairs to his room. The way he looked at you wasn’t the same as it had always been. You couldn’t tell if it was just a playful glance or perhaps a lustful gleam filling his eyes. You couldn’t tell if he wanted this evening to turn into something more than just a casual swim in his pool.

You weren’t sure which bathing suit to wear. You had a suit you’d wear in front of your family, it was a red one-piece that practically covered everything. But if it was going where you thought it was going you didn’t want to cover up. Instead, you opted for a pink two-piece with ribbons and bows on the sides. It was cute and innocent, the total opposite of your mind at that moment. God you could just picture his big hands on your ass, grinding you against the bulge in his pants while you two stayed in the water. It turned you on to think of how warm he’d be in contrast to the icy cool water against your skin. And you hoped he’d stare at you with some ounce of perversion in his gaze. Some ounce of pure unbridled lust.

Once you finished changing and put your hair up into something you considered fashionable, you made your way onto the back patio. It didn’t take you very long to find Kento sitting poolside, with his legs in the water. God just the sight of his back was enough to make the tender spot between your legs melt. He was toned and muscular, practically sculpted by god. You wanted so desperately to run your hands down his back and up his front, just tracing each muscle to feel him squirm.

“Kento,” you began, closing the screen door behind you. He turned his head and let his dull eyes rake up your body ever so slowly. There was a new kind of tension that wasn’t there the day you first met. It was as if he was looking at you from a whole new lens. It was as if he finally thought he had a chance.

“I like it. Is it new?” He inquired, motioning with his right hand for you to sit beside him. You followed quietly, making sure to keep a few inches of space in between you two as you perched beside the pool and felt the cold water run up your legs.

You bit your lip at the sensation of prickling cold and closed your eyes. Who wasn’t into a bit of temperature play, right? You had completely forgotten to answer Nanami, getting lost in the sensation of cold water against your skin. The mixture of that and the fact you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of your boss made you wetter beyond belief.

He cleared his throat and you looked at him through rows of thick eyelashes, “Hm?” Your head lazily tilted to the side, with a hazy blush forming at the temples of your cheeks. He was godly. His chest was made from the finest of marble and cut just to suit your perverted gaze. It made him seem unnaturally beautiful if that was even possible.

“I like your bathing suit,” Kento repeated, with his voice turning to a silky low tone. You could practically hear him groaning and moaning in your ear.

You nodded and turned away, staring down into the blue water. It was so clear you could see the bottom below you, which was painted a stark white. You could also see Kento’s legs, which were (just like his back) completely toned and rippled with muscles.

“I like yours,” you replied before dipping down into the water. You bit back a moan at the incredibly cold feeling shooting up your back and in between your legs, gripping onto the edge to steady yourself. Now if it just got incredibly hot… god that would be perfect. You looked up at him with a sheepish grin, noting the fact his eyes were completely glued on you. Not your face though.

Kento hadn’t had a chance to fully take in your form, seeing as you only wore baggy clothes in front of him. And now he had a perfect view of your breasts and it turned you on from how he stared. You could tell he wanted to fondle them and make them his. Bite along the skin and suck your nipples until they are sensitive to the touch. You bit your bottom lip again, feeling a throb pulsate through your swollen clit. Just any sort of friction would’ve been nice at that moment.

He hopped down into the water a few moments later, keeping his distance. It was as if he stood too close he’d lose all control and do something he’d regret in the morning. But you wanted so badly for him to lose control and fuck you senseless in the water. You wanted him to take your wet pussy and brand it with his cock until he was milked dry.

“Thank you,” Kento whispered, eyes staring up into the sky which was beginning to turn an orange color in the distance, “The boys really like you. And I really like you… is that odd to you?” He looked back at you with an intense gaze.

You shook your head, “I like you. It’s not weird. I…” You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t confess that you had been having those thoughts to him. You couldn’t tell your boss you wanted him to fuck you. You couldn’t.

He took one slow step towards you, big hands coming and resting against the small of your back, “Tell me. Does this make you uncomfortable?” His voice was a low purr, with his eyes boring holes into yours.

You felt your cheeks heat up and prickle a warm shade of pink, “...No.”

“Can I continue?” The blonde man tilted his head to the side, begging to inch closer to your perfect body. His hands moved from your back to grip onto your side, molding against your love handles and massaging them with a circular motion.

You couldn’t help yourself and you nodded quickly, bringing your hands to rest on his chest, “Please,” was all you had to whisper, because then his hands moved from your love handles to cradle your ass. One hand rubbed large circles while the other squeezed and prodded at it, just to get a rise out of you. You inhaled sharply and groaned into the sensation, pressing yourself against his stiff body, feeling the tent in his swimsuit press against your front.

“You tease me… walking around with those outfits, to make me wonder what body you have underneath,” Kento cooed, resting his chin against your head, “I could fuck you into apologizing, hm? I could make you sorry for teasing me like that if I was mean…”

A whimper came tumbling out of your mouth just at his words. God his voice was heavenly. You wanted him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he fucked you from behind, forcing your back into an arch and pulling you by your hair.

“You like that, I’m not surprised,” you could practically hear the smile biting at his lips as he pulled you back by your hips. He stared down at your face before pulling one of his hands from your lower half to touch your cheek, “May I kiss you?”

Your legs melted then and there. What a gentleman. What a fucking gentleman. Every single time he asked, even when he could gauge the answer from the look on your dumbstruck face, he asked. It made you hornier to just think he cared about how you felt in that moment. He cared about you in a way that wasn’t just sexual. I mean he entrusted you with his kids 24/7 of course he cared!

“Kiss me,” you whispered, resting your hand against his own on your face. A nurturing smile formed on his soft mouth and you felt it press against your own. It was chaste and sweet, just to test the waters. But it didn’t stay that way for long.

He pressed shallow kisses against your lips just to build up the sensation before englonging them ever so slightly. They got longer and longer until his mouth wasn’t moving from yours, but instead molding to become one. He sucked against your bottom lip and kissed you with passion. It was delicate and gentle, but you could tell he wanted to go crazy. You could tell he was holding back and it drove you crazy!

Kento tilted his head and slowly deepened the kiss, bringing your bodies closer together. His hands were underneath your thighs, pulling you up until your feet were no longer touching the bottom of the pool. Instead of bringing you to sit on the edge of the pool as you thought he was going to do, he put his leg in between yours and pressed you against his knee. Friction.

You moaned into the kiss and began to rock your hips back and forth, anything to get off to elevate the throbbing in your pussy. The man’s hands didn’t stay PG for long, one staying on your ass to prop you up as the other moved to untie your swimsuit top from behind. You needed to cum, it was a primal urge in your gut. You had to cum, you couldn’t stand not being able to anymore. And you needed to cum with Kento, on Kento, anywhere.

“May I?” Kento asked, looking down at you as he messed with the string of your bikini top. You nodded and moaned out an exacerbated please and he followed suit.

Your swimsuit top was off within a few seconds and he didn’t take long to attack one of your nipples, sticking your breast inside his mouth. He knew exactly what to do, using his tongue to roll over the nub and his teeth to grade against the sensitive area. You didn’t even realize you liked having your nipples sucked until he just … did it.

“F-fuck… me m-m..fuck me pl..please,” you breathed out, aching for some form of release. You had never needed it this bad in your entire life. It was starting to hurt from how badly you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted his girthy cock to stretch your holes and pump you with load after a load of his warm cum.

Kento didn’t have to be told twice. You found yourself now perched on the side of the pool, dazed and horny as he pulled himself out to sit beside you. The concrete ground was hard against your ass but you weren’t on there for long. He grabbed you delicately and picked you up, cradling you close to his chest. It was almost familiar, leaning your head against his pecs as he walked over to one of the many couches on the patio.

“Out here…?” You murmured as he set you on your stomach, prepping a pillow underneath you beforehand.

You felt a large and hard hand rub a circle against your ass cheek, “I have a fence,” was all he said as he pulled down your swimsuit bottoms and tossed them to the side. You heard some shuffling then a warm and bulbous head pressed against your slit, “May I?”

“P-please,” you whined, bracing yourself for the stretch. Nanami put both hands on your hips and slowly inserted himself. He was gentle and careful, stopping every few seconds to check in to make sure you weren’t hurting. The way he filled you out made you almost cum then and there.

“I’ll start slow so you can adjust to th-” He had begun but you promptly cut him off with another whine.

“No… just go,” you turned your head to look at him with a pout forming on your lips, “I’m beyond ready, Kento.”

He blinked a few times, and an air of surprise hinted on his face. He hadn’t expected you to be so eager to be railed by his cock, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Your stares were obvious from the beginning. You bit your lip and stared back at him, just waiting for him to begin.

Kento sighed and nodded, “Very well,” was all he said. He reached down, one hand on your hip and the other grabbing one of yours, “I’ll start now.”

He patted your hip and then began. You didn’t have time to brace yourself as he started rough. His hips snapped into your cunt and you felt his tip kiss your G-spot within seconds. You tensed and curled your back inwards, feeling the sensation grow with every thrust. Nanami was just a god at everything he did, easily fucking you as if it was second nature. His cock thrust in and out of you in perfect rhythm, plapping against your ass loudly. But you both didn’t seem to care.

“F-fuck!” You gasped, burying your head against the couch cushion, “A-ah.. I- mm ha- f-f-..fuck.” Not exactly a sentence but it was music to his ears. You couldn’t help it. You’d never been one to be loud typically when you were fucked, but this was different. There wasn’t any build-up and god was it just better. The fact he was going and going and going, without a care for how sensitive you were turned you on beyond belief.

Nanami’s hand brushed against your hip and pressed down at the small of your back, pushing your back from curling inwards to arching back again, “There we go… good girl. I want you to stay arched for me, okay pretty girl?” You whimpered and nodded a few times, looking back to see him intensely staring at your form. He rubbed small circles into your back and held you there, keeping you arched for his big cock.

He continued to fuck you, ramming his girthy length deep in your cunt, practically asking you to squirt down his shaft. And god you were so close to cumming. You hadn’t even noticed but Kento was getting close. You began to tell from how his thrusts got sloppier, or how his hand pressed deeper into your back, forcing your arch lower and lower.

“Fuck…” He breathed out, leaning forward to rest his head against your mid back. You felt his ball smack against your cunt, with his body pressing down against yours as you two became one. He could tell you were close, muttering, “You’re going to cum… huh?”

You let out a loud moan as a response, with your hips jerking up. It felt so good to the point where you couldn’t control your bodily movements anymore. Kento sat back up, groaning and then stiffening. You didn’t realize what was happening until you felt a warm load shoot deep into your pussy, causing you to cum as well. Load after load shot into your walls and coated you in white, milking him completely dry. His hand pressed into your back again, keeping you arched as he rode out his high.

Kento slowly came to a stop, letting go of your hand to hold your hips delicately. He used his fingers to brush along the skin and rub small circles on the areas he grabbed or pressed too hard, looking you over with an intense gaze.

“I…” You slowly began, turning your head to glance sheepishly at your boss. He looked down at you, breathing quickly. He blinked a few times, with his expression softening when he began to read the tone of your face. “I should quit, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, eyes fluttering close.

The blonde let out a sigh followed by a breathless laugh, “I thought that was going differently,” he mused, before clearing his throat and adding, “I don’t mind if you quit as long as you stay in my house … with me.”

You opened your eyes, “Of course, Kento. Of course.

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ziggyzolch · 1 month

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Your Prettiness is Seeping Through (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: You and Wanda get sent to a mental hospital at the same time. Super huge trigger warning!!!! This story contains talk and descriptions of bulimia, eating disorders (reader) , suicide attempts, depression (Wanda) and mental illness in general. Please read at your own risk!! If you feel like any of these will trigger you, don't feel obligated to continue reading.

----------------------------------------------------

---------------where's your head at?---------------- ❅❅❅

Four times. Your mother caught you four times before she actually showed any concern.

The first time your mother caught you, she had called you disgusting. She threatened to tell your father, not out of worry but spite. She forgot.

You weren’t expecting her to be home so early, and that’s when she caught you the second time. The door to your room was open, which your mother took as an invitation. She stopped in her tracks, then slowly walked out, closing the door behind her, not without an awkward stare-off. She never brought it up.

The third time went about the same as the second.

Right now was the fourth, and this time she was accompanied by your father.

The position you were in was unbelievably compromising. You hadn’t even realized you blacked out until you were startled back into consciousness by your father barging into the bathroom. A gasp came from behind him, your mother peeking her head over his shoulder.

“Oh my god.” Your mother covers her mouth with her hand, your father staring at you blankly.

Crouched on the floor in your underwear, vomit covered tissues surrounded you, the stench of bile seeping from the toilet. “No, it’s,” You sluggishly push yourself off the floor, attempting to pick up the discarded tissues and wipe the vomit off the toilet seat, “Not what it looks like.”

Your mother pushes past your father, touching a sore spot on your forehead. Red coats the tip of her fingers when she pulls back her hand. That's when you notice the little blood pool on the floor, you must’ve hit your head when you fell.

In hindsight, you should have double checked the lock on the bathroom door.

“Please, leave.” You plead.

The worry in your mother’s eyes is nauseating. She had never shown this much care the other times. You figure the forehead injury is what pushed her over the edge, and the presence of your father.

“Clean up, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Your father gently places his hands on your mother’s shoulders, ushering her out.

You sighed, picking up the rest of the tissues you placed around the toilet to make cleaning up easier. Using up the entire toilet paper roll, you finish wiping the vomit off the toilet and go to the sink, cleaning up the saliva and vomit off your forearms and hands.

It’s been 3 years since you started. In all honesty, you had no idea why you resorted to bulimia. You had been losing weight fine, there was no reason to. It was after you got food poisoning that you realized how easy it was to reverse everything. Having an addictive personality didn’t help, and by the third day you were scrolling through forums and websites, trying to get worse.

Every girl you knew had some kind of disorder. It was a bond you and all of them shared. You couldn’t talk to the pretty girl about the various types and shades of lip gloss, but you could relate with her on how much you hated this one specific area of your body.

You couldn’t keep up with the STEM girls’ ramblings, but you found that all your mothers had called you fat.

You couldn’t offer any help to the digital artist when she complained about not finding the right brush to bring her idea to life, but you could offer each other weight loss advice.

You couldn’t relate to the girls’ boy obsessed conversations, but you could relate to how you could never be with someone that weighs less than you.

You couldn’t enjoy a plain rice cake for lunch with the skinny girls, but you could relate to wanting to get worse.

Vanity was a shared characteristic of every girl you knew. You’ve seen the fit soccer girl pull at her love handles, the STEM girl pull at her shirt and adjust her posture, the pretty girls sucking in when a mediocre boy passed by, and the skinny girl tearing up after getting weighed at the nurses office, and every girl that got weighed after her. If you could relate to one thing, it was that you all hated at least one part of your body.

So, nobody asked how you lost weight so fast. Nobody asked why your lips were cracked at the corners. You and your two best friends had all developed bulimia independently, which was crazy to you, but also encouraging. They would never report you and vice versa. You were each others fucked up kind of support system.

Right now, though, they weren’t there to reassure you that it’ll be fine.

'You’re not too skinny, your mom won’t find out, the marks on your knuckles aren’t too obvious.'

Right now it was all out in the open.

You were so fucked.

❅❅❅

On the other side of town, Wanda Maximoff was being made to throw up by her best friend. Her hand trembles as she shoves two fingers down Wanda’s throat. She had walked in on her half-conscious on the floor of her bathroom, an empty pill bottle held loosely in her hand. She gags when she feels the ridges, almost throwing up when she grazes her uvula. With one hand still down her friend’s throat, Natasha used her other to pull out her phone and call 911.

Wanda mumbles incoherently as Natasha ends the call and throws her phone to the side, sighing in relief when Wanda finally expels the contents of her stomach. Natasha had known how hard her brother’s death was for her, but she had never expected it to get this bad.

Pietro’s death was devastating for all of them, but they had to move forward. Natasha and Wanda threw themselves into their work, just like the rest of their team. Everybody was so preoccupied by their own missions, their own guilt and their own healing. A year had passed and everybody except Wanda seemed to have moved on. Natasha hated herself for not getting Wanda help sooner. She had seen the empty bottles of alcohol and discarded razor blades littered around Wanda’s room.

Wanda walked in on her cleaning up, face paling before she turned and left. Natasha hadn’t seen any more bottles or razors after that, and it was enough for her to think Wanda was doing better. That she got her wake-up call. She never brought it up, she never offered her any more help, she never asked. Natasha figured Wanda closing herself off even more afterwards was out of embarrassment.

Natasha had grown to be a kind of older sister figure to Wanda. She cared deeply for her and it scared her. After losing the closest thing she had to a little sister, the thought of losing another was terrifying. So, she didn’t get too close, she didn’t ask why Wanda never ate with the team anymore, she didn’t want to care.

Wanda throws up a little more before the paramedics arrive. Natasha looks back and forth between Wanda and the door, rushing to the door when the knocking becomes more insistent. “She’s back there.” She points towards the bathroom, guiding the paramedics to Wanda. Natasha finally gets a good look at her best friend as the paramedics carry her away.

She notices how thin she’s gotten when her gangly legs dangle as the paramedic carrying her rushes out. She notices how her nails had been chewed down to the nub as they placed her on the stretcher. Natasha notices how pale her face is as she enters the ambulance with Wanda. She can’t stand it.

She takes out her phone, texting the rest of the team and getting them up to speed. Everyone except Wanda and Natasha had been on a mission, Wanda must’ve thought she was alone. Natasha sighs, finally turning back to her friend. She grabs her hand and pushes down the nausea at how lifeless she looked. A napkin appears in her vision. She accepts the paramedic’s offer with a little smile, wiping the vomit off her fingers.

This was going to be a long ride.

❅❅❅

Next Chapter

A/N: This is just a prologue, and the story wont be so bleak after this chapter i promise. thank you for reading!

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #neutral milk hotel

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gtgbabie0 · 10 months

Note

hiii, so i have a request, i keep thinking about how hard it was for spencer reid in high school and growing up cause he didn’t have any friends and the only person he could rely on was his mom who wasn’t very stable😭so i wanted a fic where the reader and spencer a best friends but he’s in love with her and it’s in the first seasons, and the reader just kind of brings up how brave he is and comforts him and he’s just overwhelmed because no one actually paid attention to that and confesses to her and they kiss and stuff<33 btw i love your work and how you write🫶🏻

-Spencer Reid x Reader

{Friends to lovers with Spencer}

Sorry, this took forever my love! College has been keeping me very busy. This request made me so soft pls I love him sm!! I hope you enjoy lovelies! 💕

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It is late into the night when Spencer calls you, the thought of staying home alone is far too daunting for him to handle tonight and without a single complaint, you pack a small bag together and drive to his apartment.

Spencer still, after all these years of friendship can’t believe you always come all the way over to his place just for him, without expecting anything in return. You can tell by the look that paints his face when he opens the door, just how he’s taken back he is as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m sorry I- I just. I couldn’t do it” he tries to explain, as if he needs to justify his reason for calling you. He struggles to find the right words to perfectly describe how he’s feeling right now, the odd ache that captures his chest entirely, a feeling that seeps into his bones and leaves him unsettled.

He closes the door behind you, locking it, as you drop your bag on the wooden floor next to his shoes, “It’s okay Spence, honestly. I don’t mind you know that” You smile at him, a sweet sight that melts his heart.

You’ve always been so kind to him something that Spencer didn’t think was reserved for him, for whatever reason. He was used to it and as horrible as that sounds it’s the truth. He’s used to people's unkind opinions about him, how they always seem to nitpick at his insecurities. That was his life growing up, especially in school.

Then he met you, incredible, beautiful you who left him star-struck. Spencer wasn’t used to having someone like you in his life, someone who always seemed to put him first and cared about him with this unconditional affection, and it often led him to feel as if it were some kind of joke that he wasn’t in on.

However, he quickly learned that that was far from the truth. It was the first night he opened up about his mother and in return you gave him your shoulder to cry on without any kind of judgement, Spencer practically felt all his walls crumble and in their wake came a warmth he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was safety, you made him feel safe.

You look over at him noticing the way his eyes glisten with tears and you can’t help the blocky feeling that wedges itself in the back of your throat, you open your arms out to him, an offer he wouldn’t ever turn down.

Spencer wraps his arms around you tightly as if you might disappear into thin air. He lets his head fall upon your shoulder, a deep sigh escaping him as your hands soothe against his back. You’ve always had a way of making him feel completely at peace, despite the seemingly permanent stress cloud that hangs above him recently.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You whisper as he sniffles against you, his shoulders shake beneath your hold ever so slightly and it causes a sudden pain to seize your heart, the type that has your chest tightening.

He takes a moment to ponder your question, “Maybe later? I just- it’s been a long week” he mumbles against your shoulder and in return you whisper a small ‘okay’ and Spencer sighs with relief, forever thankful for your patience.

The pair of you soon find yourselves sitting on his loveseat, empty take-out boxes sitting on the coffee table as Spencer is completely engrossed with the way you colour in your colouring book, in all honesty, Spencer could study you for hours and never find himself bored.

“It looks really good” he comments with a hushed tone as he closes the book he was reading, although he hadn’t even finished the first sentence let alone the chapter, far too enchanted by how you add vitality to the once colourless page, bringing the drawing of the Dolphins to life.

You look up at him with a bright smile through very tired eyes, “Thank you, Spence. Dolphins really are beautiful creatures” you state and he hums in agreement as you continue to shade them with a darker blue, a small yawn escaping you.

A certain peace blankets over the pair of you and it’s as if nothing outside of his apartment matters. The clarity allows Spencer's mind to drift, thinking about what it would be like to be with you, to come home to you, sleep next to you. He wonders if you’ll stay even though the nights where he all does is toss and turn if you’ll keep the nightmares at bay. He loses himself in what life would be like with you, a recurring thought.

“Penny for your thoughts sir?” You giggle, noticing the way he seems so deep in thought.

He clears his throat, racking his brain for a fact about dolphins but it’s hard when he’s so focused on you, “Oh umm-” he frowns before finally, the words began to fall effortlessly from his lips.

“Did you know, Dolphins have more brain capacity than humans, Their brains weigh 1600 grams to our 1300 grams. Dolphin brains also have a complex neocortex, which is the part of the brain that allows you to be self-aware and solve problems.” He lists off as if it were as easy as breathing and to Spencer it is.

He watches with pride blooming through his chest as your eyebrows lift with shock, “I actually didn’t know that, I suppose they don’t have anything on your IQ of 187 though” You smile, putting away your colouring book as you rub at your sleepy eyes.

“That and I guess it has something to do with me being human” he chuckles, helping you put away all of your many felt tips.

Spencer looks over at the clock, guilt immediately seeping into his heart. It’s gone past twelve am and he knows you have work tomorrow, it was selfish of him to ruin your sleep schedule just because he had a bad day, and just like that, he finds himself deep within his own self-sabotage.

It’s almost annoying how quickly you pick up on it, “You are just human Spencer, I think you forget that sometimes” You smile kindly at him, reaching for his hand and his breath hitches slightly at the sudden warmth.

“I’m sorry for keeping you so long” he whispers, fiddling with the loose thread of his sweater, “You’ve got work tomorrow and I kept you here I just-” You don’t give him time to continue, knowing it’ll just end up with him talking poorly about himself.

“-Spencer, I can just call in sick but that’s not the point, I’m here because you needed me and I’ll be here for however long you want,” you tell him, squeezing his hand slightly as you brush your thumb over his knuckles.

He doesn’t know what to say or do, his mind rushes with so many words he wants to say, yet all of them seem to be stuck in a ball in the back of his throat.

“What- what if I- what if I need you forever?” He whispers, eyes not daring to glance at yours the fear of rejection still captures him even if he knows that you would go to the ends of the world for him.

“Then I’ll be here forever silly,” you tell him, inching closer to him.

Spencer thinks his heart might just burst out of his chest, years of emotions building up inside him and despite everything he’s seen and been through this might just be the scariest feeling he’s ever felt.

“What is it?” You whisper, and he looks at you with so much emotion in his eyes it’s hard for you to read.

“I’m scared” his voice quivers as he bites back the tears that cling to his eyes, rubbing them away before they have time to fall, “What if I can’t do this?”

It's the truth he's terrified of loving you for so many reasons, he could sit there for hours listing them off, but they all seem to boil down to the thought of losing you, his solace in the crazy world.

Your eyebrows thread together as you move closer to him, you don’t really know what he means.

“Spencer Reid, you are the bravest person I know. I mean you’ve been through so much Spence and despite that, you’re still so selfless” you tell him, wiping away his tears with your sleeve.

Spencer knows he loves you, he’s known for a very long time, and now sitting here with you as you pour your heart out his feelings only triple. You're so close he can sense your body heat radiating off of you, and with the sudden closeness comes that all too familiar sickly feeling that spreads through his chest.

“Whatever it is you’re scared to do, I’ll be here through it all”

You smile when he finally looks up at you, forehead resting against your own as both your hearts pick up in pace. The butterflies in his stomach are all too prominent because, goodness you're so close to him, and he can feel your gentle breath fanning along his cheek.

His nose brushes against yours as you press your lips to his own, his tears wetting your own face, completely overcome with emotions as he leans into you chasing after your warmth as he kisses you back, something that surprisingly comes so easy to him.

“I love you in ways that terrify me” he whispers against you as you brush his hair away from his eyes, “I’ve loved you for a very long time” he confesses with a shaky sigh.

“Spencer-” you can’t help but let out a breathy giggle, “I love you too” and it doesn’t take long for you to kiss him again, excitement snuffing out the doubt in his mind. You both smile against each other's lips, the kiss breaking as you do so.

His heart has never felt so full before, content as you rest against him. Just as it should be.

“Can I ask you something?” You wonder, sitting up slightly as he nods with a small ‘Anything’

“How long?” You chuckle when he blushes, his cheeks adorned with a deep red colour.

“Longer than I care to admit” he whispers clearing his throat.

“So- how long is that?” Ah yes, you and your persistence.

“Since we were seventeen” he whispers so quietly that you can barely even hear him, and if you weren’t sitting so close you don’t think you would have heard him.

“Seventeen?” You ask as he nods, solidifying his answer and, if he’s completely honest, he doesn’t want to know your answer but yet that doesn’t stop him from asking, ‘What about you?’

You feel your face heat up dropping your head to his shoulder as you mumble a quiet, ‘Fourteen’ Your answer confuses him as he tilts his head slightly to try and look at you.

“Fourteen? We didn’t even know ea-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you run off into the bathroom excusing yourself as he holds back a chuckle.

He decides to let it go for now, you can’t exactly hide in the bathroom forever and he knows he’s got a long time to talk to you about it so for now he’ll bask in this prideful feeling, knowing he’s been the one to hold your heart for years and many more to come.

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galedekarios · 17 days

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Keeping this anon, but I hear you hate bloodweave. I was curious on your take to why.

You don't have to reply to this if it makes you uncomfortable thought!!

i'd like to preface this again by saying that this is my opinion. idc what you ship.

i've talked about this here, but i don't mind reiterating my points:

they have no chemistry, to the contrary, gale shuts him down right away during their first talk and ast*rion's manipulation attempts. i assume that gale sees right through him from the beginning. a lot of people love to hc gale as naive as or as completely taken with ast*rion, but it's the complete opposite. i imagine his many years in waterhavian society made him realise quite quickly what type of person he's dealing with. the relationship they have doesn't progress much from that. by act iii they - at best - begrudgingly tolerate each other.

they are diametrically opposed in the things they value as people as well as their morals. gale is kind-hearted, he approves of helping those in need, children, mothers, slaves, refugees, even the animals you meet in-game. he seeks to avoid bloodshed, approves of letting people who want to pay the party back for their help keep their money and belongings. he seeks knowledge and even power not for selfish reasons or a taste for the darker things, but because he seeks to better their odds of survival against a seemingly invincible foe. ast*rion meanwhile is selfish and cruel and vile. he delights in violence and bloodshed, he finds the struggle of people caught in the crosshairs amusing. he is greedy and short-sighted, seeking power for himself, no matter the cost to others.

they are completely incompatible in terms of what they look for in a relationship and a potential partner. gale wants and needs a deeper connection, a tangling of the souls, and he needs someone to be there for him unequivocally, to love him for who he is as he is. he is not taken in by someone's looks or image they present of themselves, nor does he do hate sex / endless bickering / enemies to fwb / etc.

the first things he cites for trusting the protag are their good actions (helping mirkon, helping arabella, seeking to ease the tension between zevlor and aradin), it's all those things that at first make him trust the protag and later - when they unselfishly offer him help, give him artefacts - makes him fall in love with them. sex and immediate gratification isn't important to him. sex is a component - one way in an array of ways to proclaim love.

for ast*rion, it's manipulation first and his entire romance hinges on that. his partner falling for his looks and his text book manipulation into sex. that's already where this breaks apart for me in terms of this ship because that doesn't work with gale.

add to that ast*rion's cruel remarks about gale's when he is need:

[after gale's background story reveal] You'd have us debate? That Netherese jack-in-the-box should be a blip on the horizon by now!

[after mystra's demands] I can't believe Mystra's demanding Gale sacrifice himself to destroy the Absolute. It's just a waste of a perfectly good cult that we could be controlling. And a waste of a perfectly good Gale, I suppose.

[at the stormshore tabernacle] Well? Go on, then - it's rude to keep a goddess waiting.

[after orin potentially kidnaps gale] So, we kill Gortash or Gale dies? It's not an easy call. On the one hand, killing Gortash would be fun. On the other, Gale can be very annoying. We should probably save the wizard, though. He does have his moments.

i think it's very clear, given the fact that these reactions range from act i to act iii, that he doesn't give a singular fuck about gale. contrast this to karlach's reactions, or even shadowheart's:

Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.

(particularly karlach has many reactions like this.)

...unless you play either of them as an origin char and make the most ooc choices, i do not see how this pairing is supposed to work.

additionally, as i've discussed more in my previous post, the parallels people draw between them are shallow at best or can be drawn virtually between any of the other origin companions, or are non-existent at worst. ast*rion having a reading animation that he shares with gale (as halsin and shadowheart do too), or having their tents next to each other (like wyll and gale do in act i) isn't really enough for me.

as i've said previously, i have tried to engage with the pairing because it's sadly inescapable since people often don't bother tagging, but there's nothing except shallow ooc stuff.

#ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #text: asks #text: personal #meta: mybg3 #bloodweave critical

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. ix

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: “When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it's not.” - Richard Kadrey, Aloha from Hell. But maybe it's about to be. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.0k chapter warnings: HEAVY ANGST. Panic attacks. Referenced death of a parent. References to abusive/neglectful parents. Complicated sibling/familial relationships. Alcohol consumption, smoking. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: I know it's annoying, but the thing about me is that I’m never able to write compelling things if I don’t include complex family/sibling relationships. Like I’m so obsessed with putting them in everything, even my stupid little love stories. But it does serve a purpose, I promise. There is an important character in this chapter….just saying.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-September 15, 2003-

Joel can sense that something is off with you the minute you get home from work.

For starters, your voice sounds a bit too syrupy-sweet when you come through your garage door, and chirp out ‘Hey!’ when you spot him sitting on the couch in your front room, your cat curled up on his lap.

Just ten minutes earlier, he’d let himself in, using the spare key you’d given him and Sarah. Your house felt vacant, dark, and shockingly quiet without you there, and so he’d turned on the lights, put on a record, and washed the plate, two mugs, and a bowl that were sitting in your sink.

Joel stirs, and Martini immediately jumps off his lap as though he’d personally offended him in some way. “Hey, darlin,” he stands, accepting your affectionate kiss on the cheek. “How was your day?”

When you pretend you don’t hear him, that’s the second thing that tips him off. You turn to hang your messenger bag over the hook in your front closet. And then you flex your fingers like you’re trying to stretch them out, cracking your knuckles one at a time with your thumbs, and rolling your shoulders back before heading into the kitchen and gesturing for him to follow.

“Do you…uh….do you want something?” you turn your head slightly, but not enough to meet his eyes. “Let me get you something.”

He follows after you tentatively, remaining silent until he figures out what's going on. Martini, who was walking underfoot, scatters out of the way as your heels click over the tile and retreats to a safe distance alongside Joel, who pauses to lean against the threshold.

Even despite the clear tension in the room, he can’t help but check you out. Before, Joel wouldn’t say that he necessarily had a type, it still is a little shocking that he ended up with someone like you.

Before you speak again, you retrieve two lowball glasses out of your cabinet along with a bottle of his favorite whiskey, and pour two drinks, turning to offer him one. He accepts it cautiously, and you nod at him before taking a long pull of your drink.

“So uh,” you say. “There’s something I kind of need to talk to you about.”

You take another sip and then unbutton your blazer, shimmying out of it and tossing it over a barstool. Pushing the sleeves of your blouse up to your wrists, you cross your arms and chew on your bottom lip, like you are trying to decide how to break some sort of horrible news to him. Joel prepares for the worst. He racks his brain for anything he could’ve done or said recently that might have upset you, maybe even scared you off. But he’s coming up with nothing. What could he have done?

At this point, his parents even know about you, even if he hasn’t had the chance to introduce you. His mother tries, in her I’m-not-prying-but-I’m-definitely-prying type of way, to get more information out of him. She asks him questions like ‘Do you think she’s the one?’ and he doesn’t answer directly but it does make him think. He already knows you’re his one. He just wonders if he is yours.

It’s consistently been his fatal flaw. Joel falls hard, even when it’s not right. It’s how he has always been, and that’s how he ended up alone with Sarah in the first place. The very thought of you ending things makes him feel sick. He knows he’s in love with you, that he doesn’t want to look elsewhere. It’s becoming harder and harder to hold back. You’ve filled up all this space in his life that he didn’t even know existed. What is he going to do with it once you leave?

“What’s going on?” Joel asks, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as pinched as his throat feels.

“I should’ve told you this earlier,” you begin. “But….my dad has been sick the past few months.”

“Oh,” Joel says, but relaxes just a little, which feels a little selfish because it’s still unfortunate news. “I’m sorry to hear that. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m not really sure. Just…my brother called me today and apparently he’s taken a turn for the worse. The doctors…they think he doesn’t have that much time left. I…I need to go see him, I think. Before…” you don’t finish your sentence, you just shrug and look down.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah no, it’s fine, I’m fine,” you say dismissively. “I actually booked a redeye that leaves tomorrow night. I wanted to make sure I could still take Sarah to the office with me for her career day and everything, so you don’t have to worry about that. So yeah.”

“Do you need to leave earlier?” He asks. “She can always come to work with me.”

“No, no…” you give a soft smile. “I made a commitment, and….I want her to see how boring my job really is.”

Joel wants to smile back at you, but he doesn’t. Because despite the jokes, when you meet his eyes for a second, they look so dull and desolate it feels like it’d be inappropriate.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” Joel sets his glass down just as you pick up yours for another hearty gulp before continuing. “I got my company to approve me working remotely for two weeks. I don’t think it will be that long, but…I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Joel reaches out and rests a hand on your own. “You should go be with your family. Sarah and I will be fine.”

“I know that. I just…I don’t really want to go,” you say. “But I’ll feel bad for the rest of my life if I don’t…and at the very least, I need to be there for my brother. He’s closer with my dad than I am.”

Bringing the glass back to your mouth, you take another sip – at this point, the drink is nearly gone. Joel steps behind you, because he can’t really hug you the way you are now, facing forward and bracing yourself on the countertop. “Come ‘ere,” he murmurs softly, pulling you back against his chest. For a second, you tense. It’s like you’re surprised, still, that all he wants to do is be gentle with you. Once you remember, he feels your body relax, and your head falls back to tuck under his chin, one of your hands clutches his arm that wraps across your collarbone. “I wish you could come with me,” you say.

“Me too,” Joel says against the top of your head. He knows he can’t. Not with Sarah, and not with work being the way it has been. Unfortunately, the excuse probably wouldn’t go over well with the guys there. Not that he cares that much what they think, but he can’t jump ship right now. “But I’d have to find someone to look after Sarah….maybe I could ask my parents.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no. I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” you insist. “Everything will be fine.”

“Well at the very least, do you need me to take you to the airport?”

“You’d endure rush hour traffic for me?” you tilt your head back to look up at him.

Joel laughs softly, leans down for a kiss. “That and more.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-September 17th, 2003-

The room you’re in is dark, but the lack of awareness of your surroundings seems to be the only thing keeping you from suffocating. You’re standing in your childhood bedroom, which doesn’t look much like it used to. It's a guest room now, but it never really felt like yours all the way, did it? You clutch at your stomach – you’ve been nauseous ever since your plane touched down at JFK – and reach towards your old dresser to steady yourself.

The vanity that had once been scattered with trinkets and trophies and photos of childhood memories was now vacant – pristine and polished. You wondered if the items had been thrown out, or dumped in a box somewhere in your old closet. It almost doesn’t matter – you aren’t interested in digging up any more memories. The feeling of your fathers hand clasped around your own had done enough.

You inhale deeply, bracing yourself against the glass top as you try not to throw up or pass out. For some reason, you had underestimated what you were walking into, and hadn’t expected your body to react so….viscerally. On the other side of the closed door, you hear your name, muffled from down the hall.

It’s hard to make out who it is, perhaps your stepmother, Meredith, or some other distant relative you hadn’t seen in years who had crawled out of the woodwork and now lingered in the apartment, hoping to get their piece. But you’ve locked yourself away. That’s what you had gotten so good at whilst living here. Hiding.

Until the door opens, and you squint against the light that floods the room to find the only person who has always known where to find you. Your brother.

“Hey. Ethan and Elizabeth are on their way up,” he says, then pauses. “Why are you standing in the dark?”

The lightswitch clicks, and the harsh ceiling lamp illuminates, starting the fan up with it and causing you to shiver. Vincent is frowning, standing halfway into the doorframe, his brows pinched.

You widen your eyes at him. Come on, don’t give me away yet. “Will you please turn that off?”

Vincent rolls his eyes, but obeys, switches on your desk lamp instead and closes the door behind him. “Are you okay?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know that you aren’t.

“It was a lot…being in there with him,” you look at the floor.

“Well, at least you know he still likes you. He’s not going to take you out of the will.”

It feels like a smack across the face, and your jaw drops. How could he be so oblivious to your pain, when he’s the only person in this house, in the world, maybe, who understands exactly how you are feeling right now. “Is that all you think I care about?”

“No, I-”

“I’m here because of you,” you say. “You wanted me here. So I came, and I shouldn’t have.”

“Oh come on,” he says. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I wish I wasn’t here,” you continue on, despite his wishes. “I wish I didn’t have to wait my entire life to hear him say those things.”

Vincent’s expression shifts. He had been in the room. He had heard it. Your dad had been so….sweet. Gentle. Whispering praises even though his eyes were closed. You had expected, had wanted cruelty. This was somehow worse. Maybe he had known what you wanted all along, held it over your head, and waited only until the end of his life to give it to you. Even his admission of love was somehow malicious. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from regretting everything you’d done to get away from him.

Just outside the door is the flight of stairs that leads to your father’s room. And suddenly you aren’t an adult. You feel as helpless and as scared as you did when you were just a little girl – looking up at him, the view of his figure obscured by your brother’s shoulder.

“God, it’s so fucked up.” you choke out.

Vincent steps forward wordlessly, pulls you into a hug, and it’s only after you hear a quiet sob leave him that you let your own tears fall. There’s nothing either of you can say to fix the damage that has been done, so all you can do is cling to each other and cry.

“I know it’s fucked up,” he says. “I know. Maybe I should’ve….I could’ve done more.”

You pull back, relieved to see your tears didn’t ruin his cashmere sweater. “What could you have done?” you ask, dejectedly. “We were kids.”

Vincent doesn’t know how to answer that, but he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, and looks at the ground a moment before lifting his head. “We’ve got each other.”

But that’s hardly true anymore, and he knows it. You’ll always resent each other for different reasons – he had adapted to the circumstances, and you had left them. Neither strategy did anything to fix the damage.

You’re still weeping, but softer now, face wet with tears that fall everytime you blink. Swiping under your eyes, you sigh and attempt to compose yourself.

“Come on,” Vincent says. “Say hi to Ethan and Elizabeth. Dad is stable for the time being. We can take a walk or something. Get some fresh air.”

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll be out in a second. I have to get my shit together.”

After he leaves, you check your makeup in the vanity, wiping away some smudged mascara before following him out. When you enter the front room, still sniffling, you pray that you don’t have a run-in with any other family members. But the only person you see besides Vincent is your sister-in-law coming through the door.

Elizabeth’s face is pinched in concentration as she tries to wrangle your nephew out of his coat. “What up, champ?” Vincent holds a hand out for a high five, just in time for her to free Ethan’s arms so he can reach towards his father, who stoops to accept his hug.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Elizabeth steps back and makes eye contact with you as you approach. In the past, you pitied her for the decision to marry into your family and then go on to have children with your brother. She was a little too good for him. But now, you feel like that was kind of a callous way of looking at things. You wonder if your brother would feel the same way about Joel for getting mixed up with you. Fortunately, Joel is still a well-kept secret.

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” Elizabeth says. “I’m so sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“It’s alright,” you accept her hug and return her kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you, too.”

She looks down at her son. “Honey, do you remember your aunt?”

“Hey, Ethan,” you crouch alongside your brother, and he nods, but still side-steps closer to his dad and smiles over at you bashfully. “How are you doing?”

“Good.”

“Don’t be shy,” Vincent encourages, but your nephew doesn’t seem interested in your attempt at an embrace, so you let them drop by your side.

“It’s okay,” you stand up, feeling a fresh batch of tears threatening their way to your waterline. Ethan’s treating you like a stranger because you basically are one.

“You’ve met a lot of new people the last few days, haven't you?” Elizabeth asks, then looks over at you. “He might be a little overwhelmed. He’ll warm up.”

Vincent stands at the sight of you starting to cry. “I am going to take her to get some air,” your brother puts a hand on your shoulder, speaking about you as if you are not in the room with them. You feel so useless, you might as well not be.

“That sounds good,” Elizabeth says. “We can catch up later. I ought to say hello to Meredith.”

You both nod, stepping into the hallway.

The fresh air helps, even if you can’t go far from the apartment. You walk around the block in silence, which gives you a chance to compose yourself. It’s a surprisingly warm day, although it’s much colder in New York than it is in Austin this time of year. In early fall, the leaves have only just begun turning.

You’re about to turn the corner to the stretch of sidewalk that leads back home, when Vincent plops himself down on a bench without warning. He fishes through the front pocket of his jacket and retrieves a flask.

“Jesus, Vincent,” you mutter under your breath. “Right now?”

“Uhm, yeah,” he answers. When you scoff, he continues, rolling his eyes. “Oh, get off your high horse. It’s just a little.”

“Aren’t you sad?”

“Of course I’m fucking sad,” he defends. “But I go to therapy now, so….I’m better at processing.”

“Yeah?” you gesture towards the flask. “Is that what this is called?”

“No. But it is the only way I can deal with Meredith.”

“You’re insane,” you say, but can already feel your exasperation fading. In your absence, he’s been dealing with all this alone. “Give me that.” Reaching forward towards the flask, he jerks his hand away just before you make contact.

“I’m not sharing.”

You pout at him. Come on. He rolls his eyes and passes it over. “Fine.”

While you take a sip, he produces a pack of cigarettes and plucks one out of the carton. “You don’t smoke these anymore, do you?”

“Not really. But I still have not managed to kick the weed habit.”

“Well I’m jealous,” he says, lighting it. “Now that Elizabeth and Ethan live with me again, I really have had to get my shit together.”

I’m sure you’ll fuck it up soon enough, you’re primed to say, but even as a joke, you feel like it’s a little too mean. It’s okay to let this be a nice moment.

“You know, if you wanted,” he says. “You could stay here for a couple months. I can get you set up with a place in the city. It might be good to be home…after…” You do your best to ignore his reference to the inevitable storm that hangs over your heads.

Any other time, and the offer might tempt you. This is your home, always would be, and you will always feel called to it. If you came back, all your family and childhood friends would be here. And without your father, things may be different. But now you have other priorities. “I can’t do that,” you shake your head.

“Why not?” He asks. You sit down on the bench, swipe the pack of cigarettes from where they sit between you, and take one for yourself. “Didn’t you say you were approved to work remotely?”

“No, it’s not that,” you light the cigarette and take a pull, coughing when you inhale too deeply. It’s not a joint. “I actually….met someone.”

Vincent frowns like he doesn’t believe you. “Really?”

“Yeah….he’s actually my next door neighbor.”

“Oh, you managed to wrangle a fucking cowboy-”

“How many times have I told you? I don’t live on a farm. You know what? Nevermind,” you roll your eyes, shake your head. “Forget I mentioned it..”

“Relax, I’m joking. Always so emotional-”

“Emotional? Emotional?” you ask. “Remind me which one of us was the one who had to be sent to a-”

Vincent’s eyes roll back, and his head tilts with them. “Oh, here we go.”

“It’s not a joke to me,” you say, desperate to end the argument, and it actually works.

“So is this….serious?”

You shake your head. “I mean, I…I think I’m in love.” It’s not as insane to say out loud as you had expected.

“I didn’t think you cared about that sort of thing.”

“I didn’t either. But…I don’t know. It just sort of happened.”

“What’s his name?”

“Joel,” you say. “He’s got a daughter, Sarah…she’s sweet. So is he…hardworking, thoughtful, kind….” you trail off, and veer away from becoming too sincere. “In other words, he’d fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, you know I repel the honest type.”

“No,” you correct him. “I actually think you’d get along. And you’d like Sarah. She’s funny.”

“I’m sure you’re a great influence on her,” he quips, sarcastically.

“I’m good with kids. I’ve always been a good aunt to Ethan?” you insist. “....when he knows who I am, at least.”

Vincent chuckles. “He knows who you are, he’s just in a shy phase. That or I’ve already fucked him up.”

You’ve heard some variation of the same from Joel while talking about Sarah, and it makes you smile, just a little, and wonder how terrifying it must be to have a child of your own.

“You couldn’t,” you tease. “Elizabeth wouldn’t allow it.”

He nods as if you’ve made a good point. “So that’s it? You’re really never coming home?”

“I mean, never say never,” you say. “At the very least, I should probably visit more often. I could bring them sometime to meet everyone. We could try to be a normal family.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Only your brother could find a way to make you laugh even under such dire circumstances. For a while, you’re quiet, and then you speak up again. “Being in love….it’s fucking scary.”

“That’s part of it,” he says. You sigh, shake your head, and put out your cigarette. “I’m happy for you,” he says, after a while.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’m happy for you, too.”

Despite the fact that your stomach still hurts, you’re sleep deprived from the flight, and your father is standing at death’s door, you are thankful for what feels like a huge step forward.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-September 19, 2003-

Joel’s hand stretches out to stop whatever thing is ringing in his ear at such an ungodly hour. His phone. He doesn’t even think, just answers it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers it might be important.

“Hello?” he grumbles.

“Hey,” He can tell instantly that something is wrong. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t check the time.”

Joel looks at the clock. It’s six in the morning for you, and he’s never known you to be an early riser. He already knows what you’re going to tell him, but he asks anyway. “Yes but it’s alright. Are you okay?”

“My dad is gone.”

“Oh, baby,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shockingly stoic. “It will be okay. I just, I wanted you to know I’ll be staying longer than I thought. I’ve got to help my-” you clear your throat. “I’ve got to help Vincent with the arrangements and then my dad wanted his ashes scattered somewhere in Colorado. It’s where he grew up, so I’ll probably go there before I fly back, and-” You keep rambling, and Joel cuts you off.

“Hey that’s fine, that’s okay. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna miss your birthday,” you say. “I had this whole thing planned where I was gonna take you and Sarah out to dinner, and it was gonna be really nice and-”

“We can celebrate another time,” Joel insists. “It’s okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, so quick it sounds like a reflex. “I knew it was going to happen, so...”

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t want to push you, but it’s very clear you’re holding something back.

“Yeah, I…” you trail off. “I don’t know.”

Joel doesn’t answer right away, just gives you a little space to process. The silence is excruciating, and lasts so long that he wonders if you’ve hung up. But eventually, you speak again.

“I don’t….I don’t feel anything,” your voice breaks, all strained and choked and horrible. “I feel like I should.” You’re hundreds of miles away, and Joel has never felt so helpless. “Something….something is really wrong with me. I can’t-”

“Babygirl,” he hears himself say, doing everything he can to calm you down. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He hears you take in a sharp, staggered inhale on the other line, struggling to catch your breath. “I wish you were here with me.”

Me too, I wish I was too. He wants to say, but all he feels is panic, tight around his throat. He feels like if he can’t get to you, something horrible will happen. What had he been thinking, letting you walk into this alone? Things must have been worse than you had let on. “Maybe I can try to figure something out.”

But almost as quickly as you lose control of yourself, he hears you clear your throat, a hard swallow. “It’s….it’s…it will all be fine. I will be okay, sorry, I just…” Joel can’t tell if you’re answering him, or if you’re talking to yourself.

Joel knows the routine pretty well at this point, each time you show any sort of vulnerability, you immediately pull back – like there’s some invisible boundary you’ve crossed that snaps you back into place if you test it. He’d be able to actually help you if he was there. In some ways, you being so open with him, but only over the phone….makes sense. It’s just another way to avoid him. He won’t resent you for it, but it doesn’t make him hurt any less.

“What can I do?” Joel asks. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine, Joel. I promise,” you sniffle, clearing your throat, pulling yourself together. “I’ll be home soon and everything can just…go back to normal.”

“Yes, it will,” he says. “You’ll get through this. And you’ll come home to Sarah and I. I’ll have a martini and a back rub waiting for you the second you walk in the door.

“God,” you say. “You’re so hot.”

Joel chuckles, relieved to hear your smile.

“You know,” your breathing steadies. “I would like you and Sarah to come out here. Not now. But another time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I was thinking about it. My brother has plenty of room. We could crash here, and you could meet everyone. I mean, Vincent comes across as like….such an fucking asshole, really, truly…but I don’t know. I think ultimately you’ll get along.”

“I’m sure we will,” Joel breathes softly.

“You just have to promise you won’t leave me if you don’t.”

“That wouldn’t make me leave you.” It’s you I love. He’s not going to tell you that over the phone. So he settles. “You are what I care about.”

“I feel the same,” you say softly.

You’re silent for a spell.

“I probably should go and eat something. I’ve felt awful for like three days straight and I finally have an appetite. And there’s really no problem that can’t be solved by a bodega sandwich.”

Joel chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“I will call you later, okay?” you say. “Thank you, Joel. I miss you, and I’ll see you soon.”

“I miss you too,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you soon.”

See you soon. For the next few days, everytime you call each other, every conversation ends with the same promise. Neither of you are aware it’s one you can’t keep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-September 26th, 2003-

Joel sits in the front seat of Tommy’s car, and tries to hide the fact that his hands are shaking. There’s blood spattered on the front of his shirt, blood that didn’t belong to him. He’s done a lot of things to protect Sarah. To protect his family. He’d used that turn of phrase, that he’d kill for them, in passing, but never actually thought he’d have to do it. He did. He did. And he’s suddenly scared of what else he might be capable of.

He does not want this burden, to be a protector, but he has no choice. It has been his entire life. First an older brother. Then, a father. It’s worth more than his own peace, than his own life. He would sacrifice that every time if it kept his family safe.

And you, too.

He’s only just now looking down at his phone, trying to block out the noise of the voices on the radio that cut in and out of static. And it’s not because it’s broken. The world he knows is crumbling, he’s freefalling towards the earth, and he’s gotta grab the only things that matter or they will perish upon impact.

Sarah says your name from behind him. “Do you think she’s okay?”

It’s the first minute he’s had to think since he arrived at the prison to bail out Tommy. He has several missed calls from you and one voicemail. He doesn’t even think to listen, just immediately tries to call you back.

“I don’t know, babygirl.” The phone doesn’t even ring. Sarah’s hand falls to his shoulder and he squeezes it tightly, hoping she can’t feel that it’s still trembling. Joel has no cell service, and none of the calls are going through even after trying several times over.

Joel looks down at his watch to see what time it is. It’s working now, thanks to Sarah, who had told him that she’d got it fixed at a place you had recommended before you left. It’s delusional, but he hopes maybe this isn’t happening in Colorado. You’d called him this morning to wish him a happy birthday, things had been fine then. How could it all fall apart so quickly?

He accepts that he can’t reach you, and listens to the voicemail you’ve left.

“Hey Joel, I….something is going on here. I don’t know if it’s happening everywhere. People are sick. It’s….it’s…If I don’t see you again I hope I- I want you to know that I love you. Okay? You and Sarah. Thank you, Joel. Please…please stay safe.”

I love you, too. Why didn’t he just say it when he had the opportunity to? What had he been thinking?

Joel tells himself that this is not the end. Things will settle, even if it takes time, and you will keep yourself safe. You won’t get sick. All the promises you made to each other will be kept. Even as he tells himself this, he knows it’s probably a lie.

Still, he indulges. Things will go back to normal. As long as he keeps himself safe, he’ll find his way back to you again. It’s just a matter of time.

But his hope for the future, for anything else, dies an hour later.

553 notes · View notes

youatemylollipop · 1 year

Note

What types of girls do u think the tokrev boys would like (separately), what type would u match the up with?

A/N: Not quite sure if I had understood your questions correctly, but here’s a list of TR boys and their dream girls based on my interpretation of your request.

Ft: Haitani Ran, Hanemiya Kazutora, Matsuno Chifuyu, Mitsuya Takashi & Sano Manjirō (Tokyo Revengers).

Part Two: Haitani Rindō, Hitto Kakuchō & Terano South ➵ Tokyo Revengers

Haitani Ran

➵ I can imagine our little Wednesday Addams being interested in two types of girls.

➵ The first type would be the “high-maintenance” type, obviously someone with a lot of demands and requirements that he cannot meet.

➵ She would be confident with a very high self-esteem and probably very fashionable, walking with her chin held high as if she owned the place.

➵ She would be mischievous and flirtatious, but still loyal.

➵ People would sometimes wonder who the bigger player was between the two before they started dating.

➵ The second type that I can see him being interested in is the quiet and reserved type.

➵ However, she still needs to have high standards and be confident in herself.

➵ The fashionista aspect is not that important, but there has to be something that caught his attention.

➵ If anyone has watched the series "The Queen's Gambit," then you must be familiar with the main heroine, Beth Harmon.

➵ When I say reserved, that's the type of reserved that I truly mean.

➵ The one who seems very shy, only to be interpreted as the incarnation of Satan once she's spoken her mind.

➵ Which could also be seen as the “freak behind closed doors” type.

Hanemiya Kazutora

➵ The "a literal angel" type is the kind of girl that our little banana boy is drawn to.

➵ He wouldn't be interested in just any girl, however.

➵ The only type that would catch his eye is one who is exceptionally gentle and patient, with a natural inclination towards helping others.

➵ The kind of person who can't walk past someone in need without offering a helping hand.

➵ Her kindness is not performative, but instead comes from a genuine desire to make the world a better place.

➵ Sometimes I wonder if this girl even exists.

➵ Someone who is very shy and sweet.

➵ She might have a tendency to blush when she's happy or flustered, which only makes her more endearing.

➵ Her voice is soft and soothing, the kind that could calm anyone down with just a few words.

➵ Can also be referred to as the "can't even hurt a fly" type. But to our banana boy, she is so much more than that.

➵ She is an angel in human form, a symbol of everything that is good and pure in the world.

Matsuno Chifuyu

➵ The "extreme badass" type.

➵ While Chifuyu is the type of guy who can get along with different kinds of people, he is instantly drawn to the badass type.

➵ He just thinks that she's so cool and can't help but admire her.

➵ I swear to god! This boy is such a big simp!

➵ Pretty much like Baji, she can be unhinged and have serious mood swings.

➵ She can also be very sweet and bubbly.

➵ However, she's still the cool-headed and collected type of girl who manages to dominate any man she meets.

➵ Her aura is warm and inviting, but also cold and haughty.

➵ Blunt. Extremely blunt, but also surprisingly mature.

➵ She probably reminds him of a stray cat in a way, which is mostly because of her tendencies to go missing for a few days.

➵ Because of this strange combination of characteristics she can also be seen as the “self-contradicting” type.

➵ Overall, she is a walking oxymoron whom any other person would have problems getting along with.

➵ Well… anybody but Chifuyu.

Mitsuya Takashi

➵ Mitsuya would probably be attracted to two types of girls.

➵ The first is the “mother-like” type.

➵ One who is extremely mature, sweet, and caring.

➵ She is excellent with children and takes school very seriously.

➵ She’s a good cook and his sisters love her.

➵ Very hardworking to the point that he sometimes has to ensure that she is not overworking herself.

➵ She can also be seen as the “selfless” type because she tends to place others’ needs before her own.

➵ He would like her because they share a lot of common ground in their interests and values.

➵ The second type is the “she-devil” type.

➵ She’s mischievous and loves to fluster him on a daily basis.

➵ Makes sure to flirt with him and send him compliments and is very bold in showing her attraction.

➵ Still very good with kids and enjoys teasing him a lot.

➵ I think this would be seen as the opposites attract trope due to Mitsuya’s constant need to be like a parental figure for his sisters.

Sano Manjirō

➵ The “too strange for this world” type.

➵ When our little taiyaki (as well as dorayaki) lover had met her, she had immediately piqued his interest.

➵ Because it's a well-known fact that Mikey doesn't get interested in 'ordinary' people.

➵ She had most likely said something utterly ridiculous or done something weird.

➵ And even if she didn't, she probably has a unique sense of fashion that makes her stand out from the crowd.

➵ Typically, she's the type of girl who has an odd way of thinking, and most people can't grasp what she means.

➵ Mikey obviously finds her amusing.

➵ The “dreamer” is the other type that Mikey would most likely get attracted to.

➵ She is the one who has been held hostage by her overly strict parents and wishes for her prince charming to whisk her away.

➵ Or rather, her knight in shining armor, because let's face it, Mikey is nowhere near as sophisticated as a prince is supposed to be.

➵ But it doesn't matter, as long as he’s that somebody that’ll 'show her the world', take her on various adventures, and save her from monsters—or the evil wizard/witch that has been keeping her in confinement.

➵ As you can see, she is the biggest romantic on earth, and Mikey finds it adorable and would happily bring some new colors to shower her world with.

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ametrinearrows · 6 months

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Lose It All

YN walked into the arena with three hours before Monday Night Raw started and headed straight towards her assigned locker room. Her mind was clouded with the different thoughts and emotions she had felt the past few months, so she kept her head down as much as she could until she could reach a safe place for her to let go of the false smile, she often wore these days. The girl was still going through the motions from the passing of her mother four months prior. Despite the way her performances in the ring being top notch, YN felt the void but continued to hide the pain beneath the stoic façade.

As she made her way to the locker room, she was startled to see that Cody Rhodes, her closest friend, was standing just outside the door waiting for her. With his trademark charismatic smile, he extended his hand to her and said, “I believe it’s past time for us to have a little chat. Don’t you?”

The YHC-haired girl hesitated for a moment before nodding and took his hand in hers as he led her into the room. The two of them settled down on the bench once inside and YN instantly started fidgeting with her hands. She wasn’t the type of girl that found it easy to talk about her feelings no matter who the person she was talking to was.

Cody leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees as he tried to get a better look at his best friend, his voice was gentle yet firm as he spoke to her. “I think you know that by now everyone has noticed how you walk around like there’s a two-ton brick on your shoulders and, Babygirl, that’s no way to live. You don’t have to fight whatever is going on in your head by yourself. So, if you’re ready and willing to talk, now’s the time. I’m right here and more than willing to listen and help you get through it.”

Her eyes began to well up with tears as he reminded her that there was always someone there to be her listening ear. She took a deep breath and poured her heart out for him as she shared the pain she was going through internally and the feeligns of loneliness that had grappled onto her since her mother’s death.

The blue-eyed man listened attentively to every word YN had to say with nothing but complete empathy for her written in his eyes. He nodded as he offered words of comfort and understanding whenever she needed to hear them. With losing his father not too long ago, he understood what she was feeling and what she might have needed to hear. Cody also knew YN just needed to know there was someone there for her. He didn’t try to fix her pain because he knew there was only so little that could, instead, he provided a safe space in him for her emotions to be acknowledged and validated.

As the words flooded out, YN could feel the weight lifting from her chest. His presence alone was able to get through the day but his willingness to sit there and listen to everything she had ever felt in the past few months gave her the strength to confront her grief head-on. Something that she had avoided doing for the longest time.

After what had felt like an eternity of talking, YN had finished letting go of everything. She wiped away the tears that had fallen, even though she was sure there were more to come. Looking into Cody’s eyes, she whispered, “Thank you, Cody.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he questioned.

YN looked down at her hands that were still fidgeting with each other. “For being you. For being...” she took a moment to breathe deeply before she continued, “there just to listen. In the past four months, you have been the first and only person who has done that. Though I know that I have put on this brave mask and face the day like nothing in the world can tear me down, I’ve been needing someone to actually let me lose it all on them for a bit. I just didn’t realize how bad I needed that until now.”

Cody smiled warmly and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that. I was simply returning the favor you once gave me. You’re my best friend so that makes you family. Just remember you’re never alone in this, ever.”

YN gave him and slight smile and nodded. From that point on, Cody took it upon himself to periodically get her to tell him all that weighed on her. He had no idea how much it truly helped her through it all, but she appreciated it all the same.

#ametrine arrows #ametrine arrows imagines #wwe #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #Monday night raw #smackdown #Cody rhodes #Cody rhodes x reader #Cody rhodes imagine #Cody rhodes imagines #Cody rhodes fanfiction #wwe fanfiction

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yoonsenji · 6 months

Text

Summary: Daddy little girl! (Platonic)

Tokyo Revengers ×××

Character's:- Sanzu (Bonten), Mikey (Bonten), Izana.

Haruchiyo Sanzu!

It was no surprise that Sanzu would have a kid oneday since this man can't keep his dick to himself. You have your mother features the only thing that makes you appear related to Sanzu was your personality.

The Rosy pink haired male couldn't help but groan by your presence, he doesn't really like you even tho you're his own blood (he hope). He would bring you anywhere since he doesn't want you to be kidnapped either, killing and taking drugs infront of you he was unhinged.

While Sanzu was busy inhaling some cocaine the guy he have beaten up which Sanzu thought was dead would slowly rise up. You watch as the man glare at your father and take out a knife, unfortunately Sanzu was too high on drugs to realise what was about to happen. As a sound of bullet piercing through a human skull echo through the broken down building.

Sanzu turn behind to understand what the hell happened just to see the man he had beaten up on the group a puddle of blood forming around his head. A pocket knife on his hand as he look at you, you were still holding the gun as you look at your father with a cute smile. This was when Sanzu knew you were really his daughter.

He treat you better than ever from that day, he always thought you weren't his which make him not treat you that well and since he is too busy to take a DNA test. He always thought some whore who he have slept with just lie and drop you off and run away.

Your mother did just put you infront of Bonten building and put a little note that say "Fuck you Sanzu, you ruin my life. So, you should take care of this plump of cell not me".

The more Sanzu actually spend times with you the more he realised that you are just like him. Your laugh sound like his, you hav his charm, thank God since he doesn't want you to have the charm of a whore, Sanzu was excited to teach you how to used a gun. He would tie up people and used them as a target, whenever you shoot right through their head your father would give you a high five.

Sanzu treat you like a princess if Rindou or Ran tried to mess with you he's so read to put a bullet through their head. "Y/n... Did you know that your mother was a whore?" Ran told you as you only sigh "Yes, uncle I know my mother was a whore... Please enlighten me on how I should react" You reply back, "See, even the kid is annoyed of you!" The younger haitani added as he laugh.

Even Mikey like you which make Sanzu like you even more, just like your father you admire Mikey but unlike your father you weren't the type to lick a ground if Mikey say so.

But, Sanzu start to go to the club not that often now. Even if Ran or Rindou beg him to go as long as if he have a plan with you he would just reject the offer. Sanzu does bring prostituted back home but he always make sure not to be loud although you already understand what is going on.

"Princess, what should I do with her?" Sanzu would ask you as he grab the hair of the woman who tried to steal Sanzu wallet, he asked you since he knew damn well you would always come up with a creative way of killing people. Kids do have a wild imagination and killing someone the same way over and over was boring. "Daddy, why not cut off her hand so she won't be able to steal anything anymore... Maybe after that you can feed her family using her" You reply with a smile on your face the woman skin turn pale as she start to beg for forgiveness. "Ah! My princess is so smart, I'm so proud of you, princess" Sanzu praise you as you smile proudly.

Sanzu sent you to the best school he could possibly find since his princess deserve the best. You were guarded by gang members 24/7 if not they'll die. No matter how dumb you are no school have the gut to reject you since they still want to live, if you're smart the teacher would treat you very good cause their life is on your hand at this point.

You usually hang out at the Bonten building, Mikey allowed you to. Mikey clearly have a favourite and it's definitely you, you weren't noisy nor cause a fight, you would tell him story which makes his life a bit less boring, you listen to him and ask nothing in return and you're a cheeky kid who is good at tricking people.

"So, the unicorn couldn't cross the river because... Even tho there was.... A beutiful tree the unicorn couldn't left his friend behind... The end!" You say with a smile as you close the book, Mikey who was listening to your story closely although you pronounce some word wrong it was pleasent to hear, Mikey still have his childish side so he would asked you to read more story until you fall asleep while reading a story for him.

Manjiro Sano!

Mikey doesn't even know what the hell he was feeling to even have sex with some random chick but now he have a kid... Your mother just casually drop you off and flew to another country.

Your eyes were similar to Mikey a fucking void of nothing. You don't cause tantrums nor cry loudly, you were quite patient and listen to anything your father say, but no one else could literally control you it doesn't matter of Mikey send them if you do not see your father you're causing a big tantrums.

You would sit quietly while drawing a picture using a crayon, Sanzu was your babysitter since Mikey trust him enough somehow. The Rosy pink haired male was not that happy but atleast you're Mikey daughter.

"I could go out with some chick's but here I am babysitting you" the Rosy pink haired male complain once again, even Ran and Rindou were simply sitting there not complaining and Sanzu was only blaming you, "Could you stop yapping your mouth... Y'know some of us have things to do other than yapping" you told the older male as Sanzu was pissed off. Even if you are Mikey kids you ain't Mikey, "I didn't know an idiot like you could talk" Sanzu said trying to hold back his anger, "You're a grown ass adult arguing with a kid, I wonder who the idiot is" Seem like you got your mother mouth.

You're always ready to throw hands with anyone especially Sanzu, among the elite members of Bonten if we forget your own father Koko like you the most. Unlike those idiots you actually know how to used money properly, you somehow managed to pull money out of no where... He used your innocent to steal things to.

Everyday you have a playful fight with Sanzu... It get violence real quick tho, it's either you throw things at him or he pull his gun out and point it at you. You two do not get along very well but you never bad mouth him to your father, even if Mikey tried to stop the daily fight you simply just say it's yours and his problem... No one can butt in.

It's impossible to kidnap you since you're always with Mikey or another elite members of Bonten. Even when you go to school atleast one elite member have to pick you up since you're Mikey kid.

You're the whole reason Mikey haven't completely lose himself so if you're gone everyone is going to be fucked up.

You're literally Bonten princess, you hold a very important role in Bonten since you're the reason Mikey is not insane yet... You would usually be near your father and you weren't afraid of gruesome scene since y'know your father and his friends kill people on daily basis.

Mikey doesn't allow you to touch any of his gun nor any gun, he might be the most dangerous gang leader but he ain't gonna let his princess touch something that can harm them. What's the point of being a good father if you need to learn self defence at early age.

"Rinrin... What happened to my teddy?" You ask as you stare at the teddy bear on the groud, it was really fucked up there was a bullet hole in your bear. "Um... Well you see" Rindou tried his best to find a good excuse since making you cry was bad even tho Mikey isn't here. His older brother Ran was just looking at him smirking, this all happened because Ran said something that provoke Rindou to pull out his gun and shoot which was Ram plan and make him shoot the bear instead. "You... Ruin my bear!" You were tearing up badly. And you cried, you were throwing everything you could get your little hand on and throwing at anyone.

Whenever you get sad or mad you throw anything at anyone only your father can calm you down during such period. Or you straight up bite, kick, pull, scream. You only do such things when you are seriously mad or sad, but after everything you would apologise a half ass apologize you weren't sorry it's their fault for provoking you.

"I swear your father won't like it if you stand out in the rain!" Sanzu was trying to get you out the rain but since any umbrella was near he wasn't ready to ruin his beautiful hair and outfit. "Bleh! No!" You said as you took a step back getting further away from the pink haired male. "Shit man! Why do you have to be so difficult!?" Sanzu asked as you stick out your tongue at him. You were freezing cold but there was no way you were going to back out easily. "Blah blah blah! Keep talking pinky pie!" You said as you told your arm and sit down on the groud. "I'll buy you a dorayaki?" "Okay!".

You're a easy to buy since just like how young Mikey was you were in love with Dorayaki, you never share food tho even with your father you hesitate a bit and give it to him. You only eat food if a flag can be added or else you're not eating it.

You were sitting on the soft sofa as you much on the freshly buy Dorayaki as you swing your life feets, every bite bringing you to heaven as you enjoyed in silence. "Y/n" the younger haitani call out your name as you look at him "Can I eat some... Even a little crust would be nice?" Rindou asked, they bet him to take even a little bite off your food as you smile at him. Rindou for sure though that you'll say yes since the way you were smiling was closed to the word yes. "No" you simply answer as you continue to eat your dorayaki. Rindou look disappointed at himself it seem as his charm didn't work on you and Sanzu and Ran were laughing at him. As your father entered the room you jump up from your seat and walk towards your father with a proud smile. You snap the dorayaki in half although it was not even, "Daddy, want one?" You asked as you already put out the dorayaki for him "Sure, princess" Mikey reply as he grab the dorayaki and eat it. You just simply go back to your seat and just ignore the younger Haitani brother who was simply flabbergasted by the obvious favourism.

Kurokawa Izana!

He doesn't even know what happened that night... He didn't mean to have sex with anyone he was simply too drunk and the girl seduced him.

Now he have to take care of you and yeah the woman even throw the DNA test paper to him.

At first he literally ignore your existence and kaku take care of you all the time. Whenever Izana looked at you, you remind him of himself when he was younger not wanted by his own mother.

Hence, he started to treat you like how he wish to be treat by his mother when he was younger, he would hold your hand while walking, make kaku read bedtime story for you, play the guitar for you and he even beat up any guy who look at you the wrong way.

He tried his best to not get you involved in any of his gang activities but they do adore you alot. Even tho Shion is a scary ass dude you would just play with his hair and listen to him talk about anything. You do not like Kisaki at all... He tried to get along with you but yeah you'll run and hide behind anyone. The haitani brother treat you like their little sister, kakucho is your mother at this point, hanma... He play with you too much.

"Y/n... Why don't we buy ice cream hm...?" Kisaki asked you as you look at him terrified, Kisaki reminds you of a monster which make you run and hide behind the older haitani. "Eh...?" Ran look confused as you grab onto him tightly, "Look like y/n doesn't like you" Rindou said out as Kisaki only Chuckled, he was hella mad inside. His whole plan was to make you like him and kidnapped you.

You don't talk much nor do much, you are just you... Unlike your mother who left you, you were alot calmer and patience, but just like Izana your determination was strong and you got Izana eyes as well.

You would just sit down on the groud and listen to everyone talk since Izana doesn't trust anyone who isn't Kaku... And kaku have to attend the meeting to, most people think you couldn't talk at one point but you could clearly do that.

Izana would never take you to anything that includes other gang... He'll just simply locked the door from the outside door and since he trust you enough to be alone.

But, if anyone dare to bad mouth your father thinking you were too much of a coward to say anything... They're dumb, although you aren't much of a talker unlike your mother, you have the same attitude as your mother.

"Y'know, boss would be nothing without the haitani brother's" the guy say although you were right there "Dude! Boss daughter is right there... Keep it shut or boss will kill us!" The other guy tried to warn his friend as he laugh in response "She is too much of a coward to do shit..." The other guy would simply say. You literally pick up a rock and throw it at the guy "ouch! What the hell is wrong with you?!" The guy asked as you stood up. "Annoying..." you told him as you walk away "Dude I told you..." The other guy told him "She only talk big she won't rat me out" the guy say with full of confidence. You did tell you father and everyone you know...

You rat people out if you have to... Izana is a very sweet and protective dad, he would hold your hand if you ever walk out anywhere. Making sure he doesn't neglect you and have enough time to spend with you. If he can't spend time with you kaku would definitely be the best replacement for such tasks.

Kaku was definitely worried when you didn't talk much and thinks you have a talking problem. He told Izana about his worried, Izana didn't want you to get bullied for such silly reason that Izana start to talk less so you won't be alone... It wasn't that deep tho you just think talking too much is a waste of energy.

You would sit down and work on your little project for hours, you were making a drawing of you and Izana with your crayon which Kaku bought for you. You were very careful with your drawing and whenever you see even a tiny flaw you would just redo the whole drawing.

You tug at your father pants to get his attention "What is it princess?" Your father ask you as you give him the drawing "I draw for you..." You would say with a sweet smile as Izana just smile at you and admire your work as well... "I'll put it on the fridge so everyone will get to see it, okay?" He ask you as you nod your head a yes.

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minicoffee00 · 7 months

Text

Fast Changes - Part 4 Azriel x Reader

Plot: You are Feyre’s younger twin and get sent into the Cauldron with your sisters coming out as high fae. What happens on this journey

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Implied Spice

A few days had gone by and Azriel would bring Y/N food and take her out into the balcony for fresh air.

But he knew that eventually she’d have to meet Amren, she was the only one that would be able to help Y/N have any type of control over her powers.

She was helping Nesta and that seemed to be working, and they’d just figured out Elain was a Seer which had caused her to open up to the group more now that they knew why she so often spoke in riddles.

“How do you feel about seeing one other person today, someone that might be able to help you control these powers so that you don’t constantly feel what everyone else is feeling huh?” Azriel offered , hoping she’d be open to meeting Amren. He hadnt been around for two days and she'd stayed by herself in her room, watching for him on the balcony.

“Will it be painful? Also, my sister have you heard anything?” She inquires holding his hand. Azriel worked out after that first day of her tracing the lines of his body that she was very tactile with him. She didn’t want to be far from him, maybe it was the bond, maybe it was something else but he couldn’t be happier.

“Not one bit, Amren’s been working on controlling her emotions for you. So that she can help you, she’s done lots of research about your abilities” he says and pauses slightly before continuing, to catch a breath.

"And erm no, we haven't heard anything about Feyre" he mumbles.

“That’s very kind of her, to do that for me. I will meet with her. But I’d like you to stay in the room with me”

“Of course, now can I bring her in? She’s very keen” he asks his shadows whispering to him how Amren was pacing impatiently outside the door.

“Yes”

“Amren you can come in now” he shouts to her, Amren comes in, looking straight to the girl sat politely on her bed. They hadn’t really seen the girl recently, now that they worked out that Azriel could be around her, he was helping her with everything she needed.

“How does it feel, her being in here” Azriel asks sitting on the bed next to her, taking her smaller hand up in his, placing it on his lap.

“I can tell she’s … curious? But it’s not as harsh as it was the first time, it’s almost subdued” she says gazing over Amren.

“I’ve been practicing hard so that I can meet you girl. I’ve done research too, about what your powers are” Amren says placing a book down on the bed next to her open on the page she wanted her to read.

“I’m the cauldrons empath?” She asks as if Amren was pulling her leg.

“The mother appoints one, every 1000 years. Always from Prythian, but the court changes each time, it goes in order. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Day, Dawn, Night” she explains showing the sketches in the book, explaining the cycle.

“What was the last court to have one?” She asks, if it was anything other than dawn then that would mean she wasn’t meant to be here.

“We aren’t sure, there’s no record kept of them, and depending on who it was, that court might not have wanted to disclose that they had one"

"So i might not belong here in the Night Court?" she asks sadly, the first court she had actually been in was Summer, was her fate there with Tarquin.

"You'll always have a place here in the Night Court! No matter what the Cauldron intended" Azriel said rubbing the side of her arm.

"Right lets begin with training shall we?" Amren indicates a nod coming from the newly fae girl, wanting to finally face her family without the pain.

After hours with Amren, and them working out how to put her powers in a lock box within, she was able to not feel anything Amren was feeling at all, just a slight buzzing around her head. Amren didn't think she'd adapt to it this quickly but was impressed at the progress the girl was showing.

"It'll be harder around people like Nesta, Rhys and Cassian who cant hide there emotions that well. But I've told them to behave at dinner" she smiles before sauntering out the room.

"Rhys just informed me dinner is in ten minutes, Amren thinks you'll be ready to be around the others, she wants to see how well you can cope"

"With that many?" she asks slightly uncomfortable worried she wouldn't be able to hold that shield up around that many people for such a prolonged period of time.

"You'll be fine and we can leave together at any point" he says taking her hand and walking down the stairs with her.

As she walks, she starts to feel everyone in the dining room, slowly she blocks each of them out. By the time she's at the hallway and walks in, she looks strained.

"Y/N?" Nesta asks looking at her sister that she hadnt seen in a while.

"Sugar?" Feyre asks making her gasp, Feyre was back and she wasn't injured. Why had no-one told her she was back yet.

"You came back?" she says in a quiet voice, watching over her sister next to Rhys who had a firm grip on her knee, as if to hold her there so she couldn't leave him again.

"Of course i came back. This is my home. Where my family are!" she smiles.

"When... when did you get back" she asks, she didn't feel Azriel guide her into a seat until she felt herself being slowly pushed down into the seat.

"Only yesterday, i've been healing since. Azriel and Cassian found myself and Lucien in the winter court"

"You lied to me" Y/N asks turning to Azriel with a frown, she was upset with him. She'd asked about her sister today and he said he didn't know.

"Don't blame Azriel. I asked him not to tell you anything as he told me you were opening up to him a little bit and that he was asking you about Amren today" she explains. The youngest twin deemed it smart to attempt to open up her abilities to just Feyre to see if she was lying herself to protect Azriel.

However opening that door, seemed to open all the others up and an overwhelming sense of different emotions hit her. She snapped that wall back up, grunting at the feeling in her head. Y/N stood back up, trying to ground herself to something.

"I'm sorry for making him lie to you really!" she smiles pulling her sister into a hug, after brushing Rhys' hand away, a small growl coming from his mouth at the action.

"I missed you! How have you been?" she asks quietly. A small smile forming on Y/N's mouth.

"Being with Azriel has helped, he's the only quiet one" she whispers but it doesn't go unheard by the wondering ears of the rest of the group, a large belly laugh coming from Cassian's direction, making Mor and Rhys chuckle in recognition.

"Come, lets enjoy this meal together. All of us as a united family" Rhys smiles pulling at the edge of Feyre's dress directing her to sit back down. Y/N joins her and starts dishing up, seeing how Azriel was reclined and rubbing his temples she started to plate his food up for him. Mash potatoes, some braised beef, some beans and other greens.

"Az, here eat" she says tapping his outter thigh offering the food over to him. Cassian seeing the observation chokes on his drink. There was an odd change of smell in the room under Y/N's nose that she couldn't decipher.

Rhys watched the interaction curiously to see what Azriel would do, he gulps down some of the wine in the goblet he was holding.

"Can we talk outside for a second?" he asks and she nods sending confused looks around the room.

"What's wrong Az?" she queries.

"You know we are mates?" he asks and she nods, grabbing onto his shaking hands, making him sigh.

"The female accepts the bond by offering the male food, and"

"And i did that by plating up your food" she whispers.

"Yes, I don't want to eat it. Unless you knowingly put that there" he sighs, eyes more glassy than normal.

But i'd had enough, enough of not being in control of my own mind, and not being able to understand the difference between my emotions and everyone elses that flowwed through me. But this choice was mine, and for the first time since being kidnapped by Hybern my mind was clear on a decision. I wanted to accept this bond that fated myslef and Azriel together.

I grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the dining room. I sit him down, before forking up some of the food, so it was a mixture of flavours all at once, how i'd observed Azriel liked to eat his foods. I thrusted the fork towards him, offering it to him, more forcefully than the accidental first time.

Cassian gasps seeing the interaction, a small look over to Nesta, hoping to god it would be them one day.

"Are you sure?" Azriel asks making her nod.

"My head has been either so empty or so full since Hybern, but whenever I'm around you i feel human again, and that feels great, because its the most i feel at home... anywhere. I haven't accepted the consequences of being forced into the Cauldron yet but with you by my side i think that's less of a burden to bare" she explains, tears coming to his eyes. She had just told him she loved him in a million different ways, something he had yearned for.

"Okay then, feed me" he says, he opens his mouth slowly cupping a hand under as he sees the fork move forward. As he chews, every grind makes the bond stronger and by the time he has finished off the plate he looks up at her both their eyes shining.

All he wanted to do was pound her into the dining room table while he mouth nibbled on the sensitive bit of her neck that he knew would have her whining and whimpering. But he knew, he knew she wasn't ready for that yet, so he held himslef against the table, breathing in and out before placing a kiss on her head.

Claps came from around the table, apart from Nesta and Elain, who was silently asking questions to Lucien who sat next to her, knowing Nesta wouldn't be able to answer them either.

"Congrats brother" Rhys smiles across the table holding his glass up before drinking the rest of its contents.

Y/N couldn't actually stop looking at Azriel the rest of the night, enjoying the safe and content feeling she was receiving through the bond.

This had her not straining to hold up the mental barries all night, as Azriels mind being one with hers now, almost helped holding them up with her.

TAGLIST:

@cat-or-kitten @sstrohma @horneybeach1 @its-sam-allgood @starryhiraeth @xcastawayherosx

A/N: So i know there are POV changes like mad in this but thats the creative and stylistic choice to show how foggy Y'N's mind is throughout this series.

Potentially some SMUT, dare i say in the next part!

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acomaf #acowar #acosf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #shadowsinger x reader #Azriel’s mate

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snowberrydream · 1 year

Text

Stoma gave Käärijä a new life - english translation of an interview for Finnilco ry 8.5.2023

Translator’s note:

If you’ve been wondering about that scar on Finland’s favorite green boi’s belly …this is about that. (Because why be cha cha cha when you can be sad sad sad and read about how he was like a week away from death at one point in his life. Though I guess it kinda fits the post-ESC depression, really)

Okay, now some actual notes about the text. So, Finnilco is a Finnish organisation for patients with stomas and the like, so the interview talks a lot about medical stuff and is clearly geared towards people with similar health issues. It might not be as ”entertaining” as all the other stuff you might’ve seen about him recently, but I recommend reading it anyways, as I feel it gives a lot of insight to who Käärijä is as a person. It hasn’t always been just crazy and party for him.

There is a lot of medical vocabulary in this, and I’ve done some intense googling and wikipedia-ing to figure out what the correct terms are, but I can only hope they are right. Trying to understand whether things are synonymous with each other or completely different things is kinda hard when you have zero knowledge about the subject. I deeply apologize for any mistakes that might occur.

I’ve also done some minor tweaks to the text (like cut down on repeating his last name in nearly every sentence) for the sake of easier reading, as the style of it is quite academic and ”dry”, but overall I’ve kept as close to the original as I could.

link to the original finnish interview:https://www.finnilco.fi/post/avanne-antoi-k%C3%A4%C3%A4rij%C3%A4lle-uuden-el%C3%A4m%C3%A4n

***

Jere Pöyhönen, known by his artist name Käärijä, is the finnish representative in the Eurovision 2023 Song Contest. The artist, known for his style and energetic live-performances, had his youth shadowed by serious health issues, to which he even almost lost his life.

By his own words Pöyhönen is still just a normal guy. Vantaa-born Pöyhönen was diagnosed with colitis ulcerosa, a type of imflammatory bowel disease, when he was young. As the disease got worse, he had to eventually have an emergency surgery, where he got a temporary stoma. Later the stoma was removed and replaced with a J-pouch (ileo-anal pouch), a reservoir pouch formed from the end of his small intestine. Currently in good health, he wants to be open about his disease so that he could offer peer support to others battling with the same issues.

- I am truly fine with this, I am not ashamed about it, on the contrary, I want to tell about this to everyone. I hope that by sharing my experience I could help someone else, Pöyhönen says with a smile.

Symptoms lead to an emergency operation

When Pöyhönen was at ninth grade, he was diagnosed with rectal inflammation. The inflammation was treated with suppository and oral medication, and it got better. When he was 18, the symptoms returned. For a year he was on an elimination diet that kept the inflammation under control, but eventually his condition got worse again, and in the end his entire colon got inflamed. Several treatments were attempted, but none worked. At the worst point Pöyhönen weighed only 49 kg, and his hemoglobin was swaying between 54-56.

- I was still somewhat right in the head, though I was feeling dizzy and kept bumping into bathroom doors. It was quite a rough time in every way, he reminisces. He defecated blood multiple times a day and was practically bedridden, his parents had to feed him. But nothing seemed to help. Pöyhönen remembers how his mother was crying by his bedside. Back then he had blood tests done regularly to control his condition, and after one time he got a call and was told that his hemoglobin was so low that he needed to be treated urgently. After the call his dad went to start the car and drove him straight to the hospital.

At the hospital, an emergency surgery awaited. While waiting for his turn he wondered about what would happen to him in the surgery, afraid that he’d need a stoma. At the same time he thought that the most important thing was to stay alive.

- Do whatever you have to, as long as I’ll get better, he remembers thinking before going in. A stoma had been suggested to him already before, but until then he hadn’t been able to accept it and had tried to manage by other means. Afterwards he has been thinking that the fear was due to the issue being so unknown. He didn’t know much about stomas and had never seen anyone with one.

- It was a tough spot. I wondered how the stoma would affect my life and me as a person. How would I look like, what would happen to my sexuality. Those kind of things scared me the most about it, he recalls.

Life as a young person with a stoma

The first thing he did after waking from the surgery was feeling his stomach and the collection bag.

- It was a weird feeling, confusing. But at the same time I felt just immense calmness. The root of the problem, the inflamed colon had been removed entirely. Confusion soon turned into acceptance.

- I wasn’t sad about it for that long, on the contrary. When it sank in that I was still alive, the stoma felt like a pretty small thing, considering everything. It was a happy thing that I had it.

Despite feeling thankful about the stoma, it was still a shock at the beginning.

- When I was taken to get a shower for the first time and I saw it, I nearly fainted, he laughs.

The emergency surgery was lifesaving for Pöyhönen. if it hadn’t been done, the inflammation could’ve spread from his bowel to the rest of the body within weeks, or even days. So Pöyhönen came really close to death, but thanks to the stoma he got to continue living.

– Getting the stoma gave me a second chance. A chance that not everyone gets to have. But if they get it, they should take the offer with a smile.

Pöyhönen tells that he got used to living with the stoma quite quickly. But it required him to adjust his own attitude – he had to accept the situation as it was. Luckily he was able to enjoy life even with the stoma

- When I had it, I did all the same stuff as other people. I did sports, went to restaurants, I truly lived a really ordinary life.

Of course he faced also some difficult times. At the time 18 years old Pöyhönen was in a relationship, and he tells that at first things relating to sexuality felt difficult.

- It was indeed nerve-racking. Overall, you are only starting to try out stuff at that age, and then there is the stoma on top of it all.

But one thing was clear for him already at the time:

- If the other party in the relationship doesn’t accept your situation or the stoma, then that person isn’t worthy of you.

From stoma to J-pouch

Pöyhönen lived with the stoma for five months until it was replaced with a j-pouch. In the beginning the pouch got clogged, but he didn’t tell about it right away. He was fed up with spending his time in a hospital and wanted to live a normal life. When he finally told about the clogging, the issue was fixed and the difficulties eased.

- I’ve done all the normal stuff. I’ve travelled around the world, done and eaten the same things as everyone else.

Pöyhönen has had the j-pouch for almost eight years now. He hasn’t had any serious complications, but occasionally there’s been some milder issues.

- Sometimes there’s been minor inflammation or bleeding. Once I went to have an endoscopy after there was more blood and I got frightened. Old fears about how things were in the past rose to the surface, Pöyhönen tells.

Overall he is feeling positive about everything.

– At the moment I’m really contented with my situation, and I wouldn’t change anything. I wouldn’t even want that colon back, as this all has become a part of my identity, he says.

Music as a part of life

Music has always meant a lot for Jere Pöyhönen. Yet it wasn’t always obvious that it would turn into a career.

While spending his time in hospitals, listening to music comforted him and gave him hope. Laying in a hospital bed with an IV drip next to him, Pöyhönen also wrote his own songs. If other patients wondered about his doings, he simply answered that he was making music.

During his time in hospital he realized that life might be short. He decided that if he’d be alive and healthy again after the emergency surgery, he’d go and try doing music for real and with everything he had. Of course, at the time he had no idea how far that decision would eventually bring him.

- My values became clearer there in the hospital. I realized what are the things I love and what is truly important for me. One of those things is music, and doing that was what I set my mind on to.

Pöyhönen tells that he especially enjoys doing live shows, because then he gets to entertain people. He feels he is at his best while performing.

Daily life of an artist

Nowadays health issues don’t cause much trouble in Pöyhönen’s everyday life as an artist, but he still needs to take good care of his body. At gigs he must pay extra attention to what he drinks and eats, when and how much. He is sweating a lot while performing on stage, and to balance that he drinks salt/mineral water. The excitement also affects his bodily functions, and during stressful moments he’ll need to use the bathroom more often. But he tells that he doesn’t really get nervous about doing gigs anymore.

However, the approaching Eurovision song contest is a kind of gig he has never experienced before. The event is big and the place as well as the proceedings are all new to him. Despite all that, Pöyhönen seems trustful.

- I don’t know how it is going to be like in there, but I don’t think I’ll have any problems. His confidence relies both on his general attitude and that over the years he has learned to know the way his body functions quite precisely. He knows when his energy levels are getting low and when he needs to drink or eat.

Family’s support has been important

When Pöyhönen was sick, the support from his family was what helped him to keep going. Thanks to his family he has always felt valued and loved.

– The contribution from my parents has been enormous. I will never be able to repay their efforts, other than by being alive.

Pöyhönen tells how his parents gave him their full support while he was sick.

- When I first got diagnosed with the rectal inflammation, they wanted to figure out what could cause it right away. They delved deep into the matter, made phone calls and searched for information from the internet.

His parents drove him to his tests and put their time and money into finding out what was going on. The financial support made it possible that he could have all the different tests done despite them costing a lot.

Stories from peers bring hope

Though his family and friends have been there for him, they haven’t been able to offer him peer support. When he was sick, Pöyhönen did sometimes feel very alone with his issue.

- I didn’t know anyone else in a similar situation as myself. I didn’t get to talk face to face with peers, he says. He did search for peer stories from internet, but people online were usually anonymous, and though he gained information through it, he was longing for human connection and faces to relate to. Lucky for him, an acquaintance of his was in the hospital at the same time as him due to a similar issue. They became friends and messaged daily through Facebook, asking each other about the number of times they went to bathroom and the like.

Pöyhönen says that those kind of discussions with a peer were a big help. It was important to hear that someone else was experiencing similar things as him. An ice hockey player Teemu Ramstedt gave him another face to relate to.

– It gave me lot of faith to see someone else with the same stuff going on as me. That an athlete, a hockey player, had been dealing with the same issues, he tells.

Attitude and dreams helping to go forward

While being sick Pöyhönen gained strength from daydreaming and steering his thoughts towards future.

- I kept thinking that at some point I’ll have good moments with my family and friends again. That one day I’ll be healthy and able to feel happy about everything. In the end it was quite simple things that helped, and also humor helped to get through it all.

Pöyhönen tells that he has been a joker since he was young, and when he was unwell, he also used humor to deal with the difficult things. But there was also something else hidden underneath the jokes.

- Maybe all the joking was also a survival tactic. A way to escape from it all. In the beginning I didn’t want to accept the reality, even though I tried to convince myself that I had done so.

Pöyhönen tells that the songs he used to listen to while in hospital were difficult to listen to after he got out of there. Also some familiar places would bring up old memories in an unpleasant way.

But in the end, time heals, and years later those same songs are back on his regular playlist. Now they just uplift his mood and push him forward.

It’s worth it to open up

When Pöyhönen was sick, he didn’t always tell about his symptoms to his parents or the hospital staff right away. One reason that he mentions was shame. At first he himself didn’t want to believe it to be real when he first saw blood down in the toilet.

- But when it happened again, I realized that this might not be something that would just go away. That it might be something more serious that should be taken care of, he recalls.

And to his younger self, or someone else in a similar situation he would give the advice that you should be open about your problems. He also encourages to try and find some peer support, as he himself was left without it for the most part. Though the bit he did get was a big relieving factor..

– When a person suffers from an illness, the most important thing really is that you are mentally in a good condition. If you are feeling down, the healing process will be really hard, he points out.

At the moment he dreams about that he and the people closest to him would stay as healthy as possible. He wishes that he would get to do things he enjoys in his life and to spend time with the people that are important to him.

To the readers of Finnilco he sends the following message:

– Go forward with humility, but don’t be too meek either. Love yourself, your body and mind. Be well, and if problems arise, react to them right away. Enjoy life and do things that make you happy.

***

#käärijä #eurovision #eurovision 2023 #cha cha cha #interview #translation #ulcerative colitis #inflammatory bowel disease #stoma #it's a bit sad read but also comforting #he sounds so nice and so does his famiily

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maximoffcarter · 2 months

Text

You didn't know?

Pairings: Alex Cabot x reader.

Summary: Y/n and Alex have been dating for a while, but no one in the squad knows about it. Right?

A/n: Another beautiful request but this time...Alex Cabot x reader. I gotta admit I have many of these, both for Casey and Alex, and let me tell you...it's comfort. So, if you have any more reader inserts, lemme know. Enjoy and leave your comments, reblog, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻

*not my gif*

If there was something about the SVU squad, was that they all had their backs, no matter what. Either they had some issues, they were attacked, they were at risk, whatever they needed, they were there for each other. But something that they didn’t find odd at all was that they really didn’t talk much about their personal lives. Of course, everyone knew Stabler’s kids and wife, they knew about Fin’s son, Much didn’t actually say much but Stabler knew he had a brother, and Olivia, they knew about her mother that had now passed away. Alexandra Cabot learned a thing about everyone every single day, from the day she joined, she learned to study them and get her own conclusions until proven wrong, that’s the way she got to know people. It was no surprise that Alex was a private person, people knew some things about her but nothing too personal, whatever she did after work, it was for her to know and for the rest to wonder. It was even uncommon to see her in normal clothes, always wearing some fancy brand suit with her perfect hair, so if she had a secret life outside work, no one would ever know.

That’s how, no one in the squad or even the DA’s office knew that Alexandra Cabot had a girlfriend. The Ice Queen had a girlfriend. It wasn’t like she wanted to keep it a secret, it was not, she was happy with her girlfriend, and she loved her. Hell, she was crazy about her, she’d do anything for her, she had fallen hard, and she was happier than ever. But she also knew that if she put it out there that she was dating someone, she would be at risk. They dealt with any type of people every day to the point where they didn’t know how dangerous they could be and what they could be capable of, so that’s why Alex decided to keep it between them. And her girlfriend, y/n, didn’t object. She knew the job, she was close to it since she worked as Melinda’s second in command, so basically, she knew the whole squad, she was seen at the precinct whenever Melinda was busy and asked her to go. So they knew her.

That’s how Alex and y/n met; Melinda was normally the one who took the results to the squad, sometimes directly to Alex whenever she requested a copy to prepare her questions, but they had been stuffed with work and Melinda had sent y/n to take a copy of some exams to Alex. Y/n knew who Alex Cabot was, of course she knew, she had seen her before, and she would’ve lied if she said she hadn’t felt butterflies in her stomach. She was beautiful, y/n was sure that wherever she went, everyone stopped and stared at her, how could they not? But this was the very first time that she was going directly to Alex, to say the least, she was very nervous, she knew she’d definitely make a fool out of herself.

Y/n knocked on her door and cleared her throat. “Ms. Cabot?”

Alex looked up and smiled. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Uh-“ Y/n showed her the folder and smiled a little. “Melinda asked me to bring you a copy of the results from the Turner case?”

“Oh! Yes. I thought she’d come. Come on in.” Alex smiled. “Close the door, please.” Y/n gulped as she closed the door, walking to Alex’s desk and handing her the papers. Alex looked up at her and grinned. “You can sit down, you know?”

Y/n chuckled. “Thanks.”

Alex squinted her eyes as she looked at her, raising her brow. “Can I offer you some water?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

Alex nodded and started reading the results. “Seems like everything I need is here.” She looked back at y/n and smiled. “Thank you for bringing them to me.”

“Is there anything else you need me to bring?”

“Not for now. I think these results will be enough.” Alex smiled as she tilted her head. “You’ve been to the precinct, haven’t you?”

Y/n nodded, her heart skipping a beat. Alex has noticed her. “I have. I normally go whenever Melinda is busy, I’m…literally her second hand.” She chuckled.

“You must be good at your job then. I know Melinda can be a little strict.” Alex grinned.

Y/n chuckled softly. “She’s alright. She’s been like my mentor ever since I joined.”

Alex nodded. “Well, I won’t take more of your time. Thank you for bringing me these. I hope I get to see you again.” She grinned.

Y/n stared at her for a moment, feeling her legs trembling. “Would you…maybe…like to get a coffee some time? Maybe lunch?”

Alex tilted her head as she smiled. “I’d like that.” She grabbed a small card and wrote her personal phone number on the back. She looked up again and handed it to y/n. “Here. Call me when you’re off work and we can meet up somewhere.”

“I sure will.” Y/n smiled softly as she grabbed the card and looked at it for a moment and then back at Alex. “I’ll see you around then.” She stood up and walked to the door.

“See you around, y/n.” Alex smirked as she looked back down at her files.

Y/n stopped on her tracks and looked back at Alex. “You…you know my name.”

Alex looked back at y/n. “I might have asked Melinda about you.” She smiled.

And that’s where the relationship started. Y/n loved to remember how Alex used to play this flirtatious woman, almost hard to get. She would lie if she said she had never heard from people how Alex always rejected them when asked on dates, but y/n had acted out of impulse when asking and she got a yes, and Alex later confessed that she had been watching y/n from afar and she had been wanting to run into her to ask her out but never had the pleasure too. After a month or two of dating, Alex was deeply in love with y/n and the ‘hard to play’ persona was completely gone.

********************

“Melinda, I finished the paperwork from the Lopez case. Do you need anything else?” Y/n smiled softly as she stood beside Melinda.

“No, you’re free to go.” Melinda looked up at her and smiled. She raised her brow as she grinned. “Going somewhere in this fine Friday night?”

Y/n chuckled. “To my couch and my cozy blanket.”

“Oh, c’mon, y/l/n. You’re young, why don’t you go out and get yourself a date? I’m pretty sure you’d get anyone you want.” Melinda said as she went back to the computer.

Y/n smiled. “I don’t really want anyone. I’ve already got what I want.” She patted Melinda’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” She grabbed went to grab her stuff before she left.

The moment y/n started working with Melinda, she felt safe and comfortable, something she had been scared about because she first thought she would never be good enough for her job. But Melinda had received her with open arms and had taught her everything she knew so far, and y/n always told her she would forever be grateful. So whenever Melinda made comments like that, she wished so badly she could just tell her that she had everything she always wanted because she was dating Alex, but she knew that their relationship was private and for a good reason. They had been dating for the last 2 years, and the conversation about relationships had never actually showed up until this very moment, which made her realize that for all this time, no one had suspected anything. Maybe because they were not seen together often, or they were not in the same place ever.

Y/n closed the door behind her and placed her coat and bag on the rack beside the door. She made sure the door was locked and she walked to the big living room, finding Alex sitting on the couch with some files on her lap. She loved the times when she came back from work and she found Alex in the apartment already, it wasn’t common since Alex normally always worked until late at night in her office, or if she came back home, she was stuck in her office until early hours. Y/n smiled softly and leaned over the arm of the couch, kissing her cheek softly.

“I’m surprised you’re home.” Y/n whispered softly as she kissed the side of her head.

Alex giggled and threw her head back to look at y/n. “Thought I’d just finish my notes here.”

Y/n chuckled at the angle but leaned down to kiss her lips. “Good. So. Dinner? Do you fancy some chicken and pasta?”

“I’d like that.” Alex smiled. She then moved as y/n walked out of the living room. “Do you need some help?” She put all her files together and then followed y/n into the kitchen.

“You can just sit there and look all pretty as always.” Y/n tilted her head as she smiled.

Alex rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re afraid I’m going to burn down our kitchen?” She went ahead and got some glasses out for wine.

Y/n chuckled and wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist, kissing her shoulder. “I want to spoil you. If you wanna help, you can go ahead and put the pasta to boil while I prepare the chicken.”

Alex turned on her arms to look at y/n and smiled. “Okay, that sounds like a plan.” She pecked her lips softly and then went ahead to get the pasta.

“So…” y/n cleared her throat as she got all the things she needed from the fridge. “Melinda asked me why I wasn’t partying in this fine Friday night.” She walked to the kitchen island and placed all the things there, looking at Alex.

“And what did you say?” Alex turned to look at her with a curious look.

“That my couch and my cozy blanket were waiting for me.” Y/n smirked.

Alex laughed. “Am I the blanket?”

Y/n shrugged. “You could be.” She winked at her.

Alex shook her head as she walked to y/n and kissed her forehead. “We can always tell them, you know?”

“I’m okay with how we are.” Y/n looked at Alex and smiled. “We know the job we do, I know the risks you have with your job. And it’s a relationship for us and no one else. So…” she shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Alex nodded as she smiled. “Then we just stay as we are.” She leaned in and kissed her lips softly. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mmm…no? I don’t know what you talking about.”

Alex wrapped her arms around her neck as she grinned, pulling y/n for a slow and passionate kiss, y/n’s hands going up to her back to pull her impossibly closer. She tried deepening the kiss, but Alex pulled away, smiling against her lips.

“Say that again?” Alex whispered.

“I love you too.” Y/n smiled as she pulled Alex for another kiss.

********************

“Life without parole.” Alex said as she walked into the room with the squad sitting at their respective desks, everyone looking at Alex.

“We knew you got this, Cabot.” Fin said as he offered a smile.

“Wait, so they didn’t buy the whole crap of being mentally ill?” Elliot grinned.

“His DNA was literally all over her and almost in every part of her apartment. There was no way they’d believe that he was mentally ill when he was fully conscious of what he had done. I defied him and he told me every little thing he did, and he looked proud of it. That was our win.” Alex grinned.

“And we gotta thank or M.E.’s for that.” Olivia said just as Melinda and y/n walked in, looking at everyone with confused looks.

“What happened?” Melinda looked at Alex confused.

“Life without parole. We got the bastard., and Olivia is right. I have to thank you both.” Alex grinned softly as she looked at y/n.

“You’re very much welcome. It wasn’t much. We just needed to test around 15 people to find a match.” Y/n shrugged as she joked.

“Ms. y/l/n complaining here because she was the one who tested them all.”

“Hey, I spent like 2 hrs there, It’s only fair that Ms. Cabot here thanks me.” Y/n smirked as she looked at Alex.

“As I said, thank you for your welcome.” Alex winked at her, turning to check that no one had noticed.

“Well, well. We also worked here, so, what do y’all say we go for some drinks? Melinda? Y/n? Alex, you promised you’d join us next time so it’s only fair you come with us tonight.” Fin got up and grabbed his coat, looking at the squad.

“I second, Fin. We all have to go.” Munch stood up too and grabbed his coat, putting it on.

Olivia looked at the girls and raised her brow. “C’mon, girls. A drink won’t hurt.”

Y/n looked at Alex who was already looking at her and they gave each other a small nod as if to confirm that they were okay with it. It wasn’t their first time joining the squad for drinks, they’ve done it a bunch of times before, but they always preferred to just go home and have their own little celebration in the comfort of their apartment, but tonight, they thought it was no harm to join them, they knew it would be fun and they could always leave after an hour or so. They all walked to the nearest bar that was not that crowded, and the rounds of drinks started. It was maybe the fact that they were laughing hard that they didn’t notice how many drinks they had so far, or maybe it was just them not minding the number of drinks they’d take that night, it could be anything at this point, but Alex definitely wasn’t counting her drinks.

After 2 hrs, y/n had ordered some water and coffee for them, wanting to sober up a bit -not that she didn’t like tipsy Alex, she actually thought she was really cute, and two or three more drinks and she turned into hot Alex, which…was her personal favorite-. She went ahead and picked up their drinks, putting them in front of Alex who looked at her with a confused face at first.

“So you sober up a bit.”

“Ah, c’mon, y/l/n!” Elliot laughed. “You’re no fun. Let Cabot loosen up a bit. Not like we’re drunk.”

“Yeah, y/n. It’s the first time in so long that Alex actually says yes to coming with us for drinks and you wanna stop her.” Melinda raised her brows as she looked at her.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully as she looked at them. “I’m just looking out for you, you know?” She then looked at Olivia. “Liv? Back me up here?”

“Oh, c’mon, baby. Another drink or two are not gonna hurt me. I’ll drink the coffee after another drink, promise.”

“That’s what you always say, Lex, and then you whine about having another.” Y/n raised her brow at her as she grinned. But then her grin vanished as she looked around them.

At the same time, it seemed like Alex sobered up enough to realize what they had just said, doing the same as Y/n. “Uh. Maybe I should take my coffee now.” She grabbed the cup and took a sip of it.

Olivia raised her brows as she smirked. “Baby? Lex?”

“Is there something you guys wanna share with the group?” Melinda smirked.

Munch furrowed his brows as he looked at everyone. “Wait, you guys really didn’t know that they were dating? They’ve been dating for the last 2 years. I thought you guys were detectives.”

Everyone turned to look at Munch with surprised looks, Alex and y/n’s jaws dropped as they stared at Munch. They were so sure they had been careful enough to keep it private, but it seemed like they had failed.

“How did you know?” Y/n finally said after like 2 minutes of silence.

Munch huffed a chuckle. “If you guys wanted to keep it private, you should’ve avoided standing in front of the precinct and kissing.”

Alex laughed as she shook her head. “Guess it’s out now.” She looked at y/n and shrugged. “Told you sooner or later they’d find out.”

“I mean, Munch is not wrong. You are all detectives and couldn’t figure it out?” Y/n shook her head. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You gotta be kidding me! I was about to get you a date and you’ve been dating Alex for 2 years! Thought we were sisters.” Melinda snapped as she laughed.

“In my defense, it was never brought up. And yes, you’re like my big sister, so I apologize. But now that you guys know, yes. Alex is crazy for me.” Y/n wrapped her arm around Alex as she grinned.

Alex laughed as she shook her head. “Oh, says the one that was a bundle of nervousness whenever I was around.”

Y/n chuckled as she leaned in and kissed her lips, not caring about the squad anymore. No, they were not really trying to hide it, they simply decided the relationship was theirs and theirs only, so there was no need to display it to anyone else, but now that they all knew, they were more than happy to share it with them. Even though they knew the teasing would never end.

#alex cabot #alexandra cabot #alex cabot x reader #svu #svu fic #law and order svu #also excuse me while I pass out but the gif?? ma'am

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papermatisse · 1 year

Text

inquiring minds || B.BH

♔ pairing: professor!byun baekhyun x f!professor!reader

♔ genre: fluff

♔ word count: 2.7k

♔ warnings: none

♔ synopsis: the students of sm university have their attention on the popular history professor and his secretive lifestyle. student beomgyu finds a person who may hold the answers on everyone's minds.

♔ (a/n): happy birthday, @biaswreckingfics! can't believe this is my second year writing you a bday fanfic! im so happy to call you my friend! I tried making this a drabble to show my growth to you, but failed miserably. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

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Byun Baekhyun was an enigma.

A history professor with an impressive academic history to coincide with his doctorate. Young, handsome, intelligent. Though also a gifted professor, delving into each and every subject of his with such unadulterated enthusiasm of his own that his students couldn't help but feel just as invested themselves.

He was hyper, dashing across his lecture hall, hands raised in the air, so entirely devoted to his craft. His teachings were practically performances as he embodied the era he spoke of. He was a professor many would yearn to have, someone who was incapable of ever losing the attention of his students. He held to the firm belief of not taking life seriously, lest you not make it out alive, and he stood there as a triumphant example of what splendor life could offer if you merely enjoyed it.

All of these characteristics that had made him so utterly popular, yet the student body knew little to nothing about the man. Because although he was the human personification of a puppy with his bright eyed wonderment and neverending infectious joy, he was extremely reclusive. Everything about his life was kept to himself, to the point that there were more speculated rumors about the man than actual truths.

So far what was known of Baekhyun was his age, his degree, his dissertation, and his eternal battle with his cat. The man was an undeniable dog person, and often accepted late work from students if they even so much as sent him a blurry photo of a dog, let alone bring the actual dog into class for him to dote upon whilst he taught. He'd come into the lecture hall at times, a scratch or two on his arm from where his cat had bitten him, though the ongoing battle between his feline and himself was a series that many found themselves subscribing to with gusto.

There was no discernible moment in time that the tides seemed to shift, but the populous had unanimously and without debate began pestering the man for more information about his life.

It had begun as simple questions, merely asking what he'd eaten that day, what his cat looked like, even where he got his sweater from at some point. At times, he'd give a wry answer, barely even acknowledging whoever asked such a minuscule question in the first place. Occasionally he'd stay quiet, or perhaps even reflect the question back to the student in his usual comedic manner.

Though the questions soon escalated.

Do you have a social media?

"Do you not see enough of me at school already?"

Are you allergic to any foods?

"I don't trust anyone with that type of knowledge."

What's your mother's maiden name?

"Isn't that a security question?"

One day, one of those personal questions had garnered an intriguing response from the man.

"Are you dating anyone?"

A subtle smirk crossed his face for the briefest of moments, followed with an amused puff of air expelled from his nose as he remained where he sat, typing at his computer while his class wrapped up for the day. This insighted much enthusiasm from the masses, everyone gasping and talking over one another ecstatically at the newfound information.

"Mr. Byun, you never told us you were dating someone!"

"Who are they?"

"How long have you been together?"

"Enough, enough," Baekhyun waved off the curious undergrads, rolling his eyes with a smile. "I'm not dating anyone. Now go to your next class, I'm in office hours mode from this point on."

"Does that mean we can stay and ask more questions?"

"History related."

Although they had all vacated the classroom, the events hadn't left the minds of some students, one specifically being Choi Beomgyu, an English major who was on his way to his TA class. Professor Byun was someone he had grown to highly respect, with his kind and funny nature, willing to help his students no matter the assignment. Although the class was a requirement for him, Beomgyu found himself enjoying it far too much, to the extent that he was even deliberating minoring in history alone.

Though he knew Baekhyun was a rarity of a professor, and walking into his English class served as a reminder of that fact as he looked towards his English professor.

Professor (l/n) was the personification of the stereotypical English professor, or at least the ones commonly depicted in media. Oversized knitted cardigans with loose stitchings, hair tied back and away from her face in a messy and carefree manner, a tired scowl resting on her face as her eyes roved over endless stacks of papers, darkness lingering beneath her gaze as a consequence to her exhaustion.

Beomgyu sat beside her desk, waiting patiently for her to glance over at him, though by the looks of it, she was far too preoccupied with grading to even acknowledge his presence. Though he was used to this by now, often greeted by her well after he'd arrive. It also granted him some more time to stew over Professor Byun before he'd have to delve into grading.

Although it was expected, he hadn't really expected Baekhyun to actually be dating someone. It had him considering who could possibly handle someone like him. Was the man as energetic at home as he was in the classroom? Was it someone interested in history as well? Could it even be a professor at the university? Perhaps someone even in the humanities department like him?

"Professor (l/n)?" He spoke breaking the silence and causing her to shoot her head up in surprise, sighing upon just seeing her TA.

"Good morning, Beomgyu, how are you holding up today?"

"It's… Well into the afternoon." He laughed as she reached for her phone, humming in understanding at his words as she verified the time of day. "My day has been okay. I just had Professor Byun's class, so I'm kind of tired."

"Makes sense." She responded, this intrinsic understanding tone laced in her voice as she returned to her grading pile, marking things as she read through them. "You can take a few more minutes to yourself."

"Do you know Professor Byun?" Beomgyu asked absentmindedly, not expecting much else other than a mere shrug or an uncommitted confirmation, though instead she nodded to him, not turning away from her work for even a moment. "Well, I mean, do you like… know him, know him. More than just a work colleague."

Another nod.

This stunned Beomgyu, not really expecting someone as cloistered as Professor (l/n) to have acquainted herself with someone as sociable and outgoing as Professor Byun. Though at the same time, it wasn't so far-fetched. The two are just a few doors away from each other, both housed under the humanities department. Perhaps she just tolerated him, because Professor (l/n) was not someone who accepted tomfoolery in class, rather strict when it came down to someone disturbing her class with laughter or audio from their phones. It didn't seem like they'd be necessarily close when taking their countenances into consideration.

"I'm assuming if I ask you questions about his life, you wouldn't really say much?"

"Not without his explicit permission, no." She confirmed with a huff, backing away to take another sip of her (likely cold) coffee.

"Do you need me to get you a refill from the backroom?"

Glancing down at her cup and then to her TA, she shook her head.

"It's fine. I'll get some in a few minutes." Beomgyu reached for one of the essay piles, pen in hand ready to grade alongside her, unaware of the curious gaze now directed towards him. "What's with the sudden intrigue in Professor Byun?"

"Not really sudden." Beomgyu chuckled, fiddling with his writing implement while recounting his time in the general history course. "My class has been pretty annoying lately with him, trying to get him to spill as much information about his personal life as we can, but he's really reserved. Surprisingly." This earned Beomgyu a snicker from his professor, encouraging him to continue. "Today, we almost got him to spill about a potential relationship of his. We asked if he was dating someone and he didn't outright deny it immediately like the other questions." Beomgyu reconsidered Baekhyun's reaction—definitely intriguing and definitely suspicious. It warranted Beomgyu's otherwise peculiar intrigue in the matter, he had insisted. The natural desire of people to sate their curios no matter what. "He denied it eventually though. Said he wasn't dating anyone."

"He's not." Professor (l/n) responded, causing Beomgyu to look at her with wide eyes. She went back to her papers though, seemingly no longer interested in the conversation, but ever the determined student, he persisted.

"You know a lot about his personal life?"

"As much as he's willing to tell."

How could Beomgyu concentrate on grading when the answers to everyone's questions reside in the stoic English professor before him? Such an unexpected source of information, yet also so obvious. Someone who keeps to herself, therefore someone who won't blab about Baekhyun to others. Someone close to him, physically so in the case of their similar departments. Quiet and somber, a guaranteed good listener. Attentive and keen, given her English background and analyzing capabilities. The more Beomgyu thought about it, the more fitting it all seemed.

"Since I can't ask about Professor Byun, could I ask about you?"

She glanced over at him, eyebrow raised momentarily, though shrugging nevertheless, casting her gaze back down to her papers.

Much like history class, he started with simple surface level questions, ice breakers to warm her up to his interrogation.

"When did you graduate?"

"Few years ago."

"What did you last eat?"

"A blueberry muffin."

"What do you do in your free time?"

"Read."

And again, much like Professor Byun's class, his questions gradually escalated.

"When was the last time you lied?"

"I don't remember."

"Was that a lie?"

"Probably not."

"Have you lied any time throughout our talk?"

"Not really."

Though it was one question that struck a chord in Beomgyu, causing him to narrow his eyes at his professor upon her answer.

"Are you a dog person or cat person?"

"Cat person." She answered immediately, shaking her head at the mere prospect of the former option. "Dogs are very active and loving, and it's just something I'm not necessarily comfortable with. So I have a cat back at home."

"What's this cat like?"

"Hmm… She loves me… That's the most I can say about that." She laughed to herself, and unbeknownst to her, her student sat there putting pieces together. Pieces he hadn't even considered to even go together in the first place.

"Do you have a social media?"

"Yes."

"Are you allergic to any foods?"

"Some."

"What's your mother's maiden name?"

"No comment."

Suddenly, with the similarly ambiguous answers swirling in his thoughts, his eyes strayed down to her hands, busy scribbling feedback into papers, still far too preoccupied with her grading to notice his suspicions.

"Are you dating someone?"

"No." The answer came smoothly, no hesitance or deliberation in her voice. And when she spoke her answer, he saw her hand twitch. Her hand tucked away in the long sleeves of her sweater. Beomgyu had to bite back a smile as his next words arose in his head.

"Are you married?" She paused writing, a sly smile of her own sprouting forth as she turned to face the young boy. Her eyes narrowed much like his own investigative gaze, but she nevertheless accepted his inquiry.

"So you've discovered the loophole." She stated, lifting her left hand and letting the sleeve slide down, revealing her fingers, one of which held a diamond ring, glistening under the fluorescent lights of the classroom. His jaw dropped, staring at her in disbelief as she laughed at his reaction. His eyes darted between her face to her ring, silenced at the sudden turn of events in their little game.

And the questions seemed endless at this point, buzzing in his head and begging to be asked. How long have you been married? Why are you hiding it? Who exactly are you hiding it with? But instead, his mind opted for two alternative questions.

"Your maiden name?"

"(l/n)."

"Your current legal surname?"

"Byun."

Beomgyu hadn't even a moment to stir in his unabashed shock, because as if on cue, the doors of the classroom burst open, and in marched Professor Byun in all of his enthusiastic glory, a coffee tray and a paper bag in hand as he smiled at the woman seated at her desk.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Byun," Baekhyun placed the food items on the stack of papers she had been engrossed in, coercing an indifferent scowl from her while he unpacked the brown bag.

"That's Professor (l/n) to you." Beomgyu watched with bated breath as Baekhyun tongued the inside of his cheek cockily, leaning forward onto her desk in as suave a manner as he could muster.

"That's not what you were saying last night."

She stared at him for another second, her eye momentarily twitching in her futile attempts to keep to her somber expression, though eventually her facade slipped away from her, the English professor lowering her head in defeat as she laughed at his response.

"What's that even supposed to insinuate?" She asked between giggles, hand raising to cover her mouth. Baekhyun shrugged, spewing out his own chuckles alongside with her.

"I don't know, but it got you to laugh, so I consider it a win for me." He rested half his weight on the end of her desk, eyes trailing over to Beomgyu who still sat there with widened eyes darting between the two. "Good afternoon to you again, Mr. Choi."

"Professor Byun," he replied, voice strained and wary, the boy wholly unaware of what to make of the situation though also struggling in his attempt to not merely combust where he sat, whether it be from surprise or excitement.

Baekhyun glanced back at his wife, who was now taking sips from her new warm coffee.

"What's up with him?" He asked her, head nodding towards her now silent TA.

"He found out who you're married to."

"Ah, I thought he already knew." Baekhyun snickered, turning back to Beomgyu with an amused smile. "I thought I was secretive, but how could you not even tell your own TA you're married?"

"It never came up." She went back to grading papers, one hand holding her pen while the other held the pastry Baekhyun brought her.

"So newfound information. You must have many questions." At Baekhyun's inquiry, Beomgyu finally relinquished his restraint, the questions that were all but culminating in his head finally spilling forth like a flood. His words slurred together as he spoke in almost a rushed manner, as if to say everything on his mind before he forgot, though with how impactful of a discovery this was, he highly doubted he'd ever forget even the most minute of details of this very moment.

Baekhyun laughed at the boy's enthusiasm, barely even taking in any of his questions, though still trying to appease him as much as he could. For the first time since Beomgyu became his student, he finally had a first seat preview of Professor Byun's personal life of mundanity, and his uneventful day to day that consisted of work, grading, and spending time with his wife and cat. An ever domestic livelihood, but if the smiles on both of their faces as he discussed their daily routines were any indicator, it was a calming, fulfilling peace. A tranquility rarely ever attained, though one that's often strove for.

(y/n) flicked Baekhyun's arm with the tip of her pen, earning a whine from the man who retracted his arm from where he leant it in front of her.

"Get out, you're distracting my grading assistant."

"But I brought you sustenance." He nudged the bag which once held her midday snack as took another meaningful bite of her pastry, nodding at his words at the end of it all.

"I guess you could stay for a few minutes more."

"I brought you sustenance, and my love."

"That's not as important as the sustenance."

Though with that warm, fond smile on Baekhyun's face, and the way she paused her incessant grading to drink the coffee he brought her while responding to his commentary and jokes, it was obvious that the love was just as, if not more, important than the sustenance.

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