#THE DESCRIPTIONS THAT SIGNIFY THESE EMOTIONS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daistea · 27 days

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"𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜" - 𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”

You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult.

(Learning a new language is always hard at first)

gn reader, implied to be a short lived race

5,000+ words :o

tw: minor description of violence and blood

Post-canon Mithrun, could be considered spoilers

An ink black eye flickered up and landed on your face. You knew it was there. You always knew when it was there. The light shiver that ran down your back was like a cold finger languidly tracing every bump of your spine.

You didn’t know whether you liked it or not.

But you accepted it, for the most part.

Mithrun’s gaze was devoid of light as you met it. It was only natural for his prosthetic eye to be glassy and lacking in life. Yet, his remaining eye was like that as well. Fleki liked to joke that the captain had ‘dead fish eyes’ and you could see what she meant sometimes. Most of the time, though, you considered his gaze to be more like an endless pit. An endless pit that you were always on the verge of falling into.

But you managed to keep your balance— for the most part.

It didn’t help that Mithrun stared. He stared, and stared, and stared. If you were in an especially combative mood, you’d meet his gaze and stare back. His good eye would start to flicker a little, like when a cat slowly shuts its eyes. You once heard that cats slow blink to signify that they love you. But Mithrun wasn’t a cat. He was an elf. An elf who had a habit of trying to consume you with his gaze alone.

It was one of the days when you couldn’t help but return his look. You glanced up from your plate of food, fork in your left hand and your other hand fiddling with a napkin. Ever since the dungeon, Mithrun had become more physically expressive. He had his elbow on the table and his cheek resting in his palm. As his sleeve fell down his forearm ever so slightly, you could see a hint of a pale scar.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” You couldn’t help but ask. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop to think about the consequences or implications.

Mithrun only blinked. A slow blink.

“No,” he answered simply. His voice wasn’t what one would call particularly deep or rumbling, but it was scratchy. When you heard him speak for the first time, you wondered if he had ever drank a glass of water in his life.

And the lack of inflection in his tone was something you eventually got used to. With a sharp ear, you could pick up the lilts at the end of his sentences when he asked a question. You recognized when he was annoyed, when the growl in his throat got more pronounced. You knew when he was sad, when emotion thickened every word. It was all subtle, learned. And you were good at learning.

For the most part.

“I don’t mean physically,” you replied, returning your attention to the food on your plate.

“Then?”

“I mean—” What did you mean? You weren’t quite sure. You were sure of the fact that you didn’t want this particular vegetable as part of your lunch. So you lifted your plate and absently scraped it off onto Mithrun’s. He didn’t react.

He did, though, slightly raise his brow. He shifted to sit up a little, moving his palm to his chin instead, eyes still lingering on you like petrichor after a rain shower. The slight tilt of his head told you that he was expecting an answer.

You forced the words to the tip of your tongue. It was rare for you to keep your thoughts to yourself, especially around Mithrun. As unreadable as he could be, the assurance that it was difficult to genuinely offend him was comforting. Except, this instance was different. If you openly acknowledged his habit of staring, that was too close for comfort to a much bigger acknowledgement. Mithrun’s heart, and yours, were closely guarded, surrounded by layers of walls. He’d knocked down a few of yours. You’ve knocked down several of his. But going any further was risky, at least in your opinion. The walls were bigger and more well guarded and seizing them might not produce anything good, anything worthwhile.

But his head was tilted and he was watching you. You felt as if you were on a stage with a spotlight shining down on you.

Might as well get it over with.

“Staring,” you said, “don’t you ever get tired of staring?”

His good eye blinked. You’ve seen Mithrun surprised or shocked before, and you knew he wasn’t. Then, that meant he was expecting that question. He was aware of his staring and was doing it on purpose.

“No, I don’t get tired of it,” Mithrun said as he sat up straight, elbow slipping off the table. He grabbed his fork and began poking at the food you had scraped off onto his plate. Peeking just barely through his hair were the chewed, jagged tips of his ears. They flickered. Elves really couldn’t hide their emotions well, their ears tended to give them away.

The fact that he was feeling anything made your heart flutter. If only you knew what it was. It couldn’t be embarrassment or shame, those didn’t exist within Mithrun. Then what? What else could someone be feeling when called out for their habit of excessive staring?

“I mean, I’d just like to know why,” you said without thinking, again. It was rare for either of you to feel as if you needed to fill the comfortable silence you often shared, but at that moment in particular your heart was clenching and something unpleasant passed through your abdomen. The question had crawled up your throat and slipped out of your mouth.

“Why I stare at you?” He asked. You were seventy five percent sure it was a question. But sometimes, Mithrun would simply state something, not asking at all, just echoing. You could usually tell the difference in the lift of his voice. Subtle, but there.

“Yeah,” you met his gaze. Ink black. You started to teeter on the edge of the dark pit again. “Do you stare at everybody like that?”

“Do you ever see me staring at other people like this?”

No. And Mithrun knew that you didn’t. The question was hypothetical, designed to draw the answer out of you.

You felt your jaw tighten as you stared down at your food. You’d missed something, a little morsel of a vegetable you didn’t like. You promptly scraped it off onto Mithrun’s plate before answering him. “I guess I don’t.”

“And?”

Fire flickered to life inside your chest. “And what?” You snapped your gaze back to his, “What do you want?”

His brow raised, “You’re the one who wanted something.”

“I want to know why you’re always staring!”

“Why do you think?”

You couldn’t help but groan, burying your face in your hand, “Mithrun, please just give me a straight answer. I can’t handle this right now.”

“Why not?”

Glancing up, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. His ears flickered again. Was he enjoying this? As much as he could enjoy something, at least, which was more than before the dungeon.

That fire within you only grew taller and hotter and more destructive. The flames warmed your heart but also threatened to burn through your bones and muscles and ligaments and consume your body entirely. You didn’t know whether you wanted to smack Mithrun over the head, or grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close for a kiss.

Or both? Both were good.

You managed to resist the urge growing beneath your skin and instead shot him a weak glare, “Because— Because you’re not eating and it’s weird for me to be the only one eating right now, especially with you staring at me, watching me chew.”

Half true.

Mithrun’s nose wrinkled a little in thought. Slowly, he grabbed his fork and speared one of the unwanted vegetables you’d given him, finally eating. Relief flooded your body, until his gaze flickered back up to your face once more.

“Happy?” He asked before swallowing.

“Never,” you snarked back, “you’re still staring. Why?”

Did you want to know?

Another wall was crumbling and you were doing all you could to keep it from crushing you beneath bricks and emotions and emotional bricks. It was a mistake to ask that question, to even bring this subject up. You couldn’t go that far. You shouldn’t knock down those walls. You wouldn’t acknowledge the terrifying, unknown thing that had been growing between you and Mithrun ever since he’d decided to live.

You remembered that day. Celebrations surrounded you. Mithrun’s hand clenched the grass beneath him, the only betrayal of his feelings at the time. His knuckles turned white, but he finally let go as the realization, the emptiness, settled in; acceptance of the fact that he had nothing to live for anymore.

You remembered the relief when it all changed, when the listlessness disappeared. You remembered Senshi’s words. You remembered the sting of hot tears in the corners of your eyes as Mithrun smiled for the first time in forever.

It was a secret tucked inside your chest, kept close, chained up. But at night, when you stared at the ceiling with bright eyes and racing thoughts, you let the secret out just a little bit. You loved the captain like a desert dweller loved an oasis. You loved the captain like flowers loved rain. You loved the captain like—

“I can’t not stare at you,” Mithrun’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You crashed back down to Melini, to the restaurant and to him, shattering on the floor and making a complete mess.

“What?” Your voice was just as scratchy as his now. You grabbed your sweating glass of water and gulped it down.

Mithrun waited for you to finish before he continued, “I can’t not stare at you. It’s simply what I do. What I want.”

And he wanted so little.

The wall crumbled, and you internally cursed yourself before returning Mithrun’s gaze. “You don’t want that.”

“I want that.”

Was this really happening? Years of longing, of denial, of fear, all built up into one moment. And the moment was taking place in a dingy restaurant where you and Mithrun were surrounded by chattering people and the scrape of utensils on plates. Nearby, someone laughed. But it was as if cotton had been stuffed into your ears, your focus entirely on the elf sitting across from you— and his dead fish stare.

You began to consider your possibilities:

Option 1: Kiss him.

Option 2: Fake a heart attack to get out of this.

Option 3: Explain your fears about starting an official relationship with him.

Option two looked best.

You put a hand to your chest and coughed a little, “I-I think I’m—”

Mithrun rolled his good eye and stood up. The legs of his chair scraped across the ground as he loomed over the table, looking down at you. “Let’s go already, we have work to do.”

You scoffed, “I’m kind of busy having a heart attack here.”

“The heart attack excuse didn’t work when you wanted to get out of that dinner with the Canaries, and it won’t work now.”

He was right. He was always right. You hated that.

You stood up as well. Mithrun went to the front of the restaurant to pay. People used to cast him curious glances as he passed by, but very few did that anymore. The locals of Melini knew who Mithrun was and were generally used to his presence. Plus, the kingdom had become a melting pot of different races and cultures as of late. Seeing an elf wasn’t too surprising these days.

You watched the back of his head. He had a curl there. He’d always had that curl. Something in the back of your mind desperately urged you to wrap it around your finger.

Mithrun cast you a flat glance as he made for the front door. “Are you going to just stand there? Or are you coming?”

Your frown covered up the flutter of your heart. You followed, silent, grumpy, your right hand itching to take his left.

And as you followed him into the street, you noticed, just for half a second, that his fingers flexed, then curled into a fist before releasing.

This was bad. How could the people of Melini happily go about their lives as your world started to shift? How was the sun still shining? Why didn’t time stop for you as the growing thing between you and Mithrun got too large to ignore?

(Perhaps you were being too dramatic.)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

The captain did not only stare. He touched.

It was weird, really, because he didn’t enjoy being touched. Mithrun would prefer to keep his personal space, you knew. The Canaries often invaded it and he said nothing to stop them, but you saw the twitch of his ear, the slight narrowing of his good eye. Lately, since he’d been learning how to be more expressive, he would sigh. It was that kind of sigh that told the listener precisely what he wanted, the kind of sigh that spoke a thousand words his lips refused to say. Those thousands of words usually consisted of ‘get away from me’ or ‘stop touching me.’

He never sighed with you.

But perhaps that was because you knew better than to invade his personal space. He had no qualms invading yours. He touched you. Often. At first, you noticed it too much. The feeling of Mithrun’s hand on the small of your back made your mind race with questions. Eventually, you got used to it and hardly noticed it anymore.

But that hyper awareness had returned since the staring conversation.

And also since the staring conversation, he touched you more than ever before.

Mithrun’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were always cold, for some reason. He held up your wrist between your bodies, but he wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on something rustling through the forest. His other hand leaned against the rough bark of a tree. There was absolutely no reason for Mithrun to be holding your wrist right now, but you had a feeling he didn’t even notice what he was doing.

“Quiet,” he said in a low tone, casting you a glance, “there’s someone up ahead.”

“Someone?” You asked, “Not something?”

“Yes. Someone.”

Melini had many types of people. Most of them were good, interested in the future of the nation. Yet the existence of an entirely new country caught the attention of other types of people. The laws weren’t yet established, Laois didn’t really care about imposing taxes, and homes were still being built. While it had settled down as of late, criminals still flocked to the area.

Mithrun cast you another glance. His good eye, black, flickered up and down your body. The look only lasted for half a second, but it still made heat flare up in your abdomen.

“Stay here,” he commanded.

The heat disappeared as you sent him an incredulous stare, “Excuse me?”

“Stay here,” he echoed.

“No,” the argument escaped your lips quickly and harshly, “I’m going with you. There could be any number of people out here and I won’t let you face them alone.”

His eye narrowed slightly as he turned to fully face you, “There’s a chance I won’t even be fighting. They could simply be hikers.”

“Don’t lie to me, I know when you’re on edge.”

Another narrowed eye, another flicker of his ears. The chewed tips slowly lowered, pressing back against his head, barely visible through wavy locks of silver. You’ve always thought that when elves did that, they looked quite aerodynamic.

“Fine,” his voice was flatter than usual, “but stay close to me. I won’t allow you to be hurt.”

Mithrun released your wrist, but his fingers deftly slid down your skin, across your palm. A shiver ran through you as he tangled your fingers together. They were puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, created specifically to hold each other.

And Mithrun didn’t seem the slightest bit affected by the fact that he was now holding your hand. He simply turned and began trudging through the foliage of the forest, gently pulling you behind him. Did he have any idea what he’d done? Did his sharpened elf hearing notice the pumping of your heart? Would he even acknowledge it?

He held your hand tight, as if afraid you would slip away.

“They know we see them,” Mithrun murmured. Tension filled the air and threatened to suffocate you. It was the feeling of danger, and a tingling through your limbs that made your hairs stand to attention.

He pushed aside a thorn bush, not caring when the sharp tips pricked his skin or when they clung to his clothes like childish hands trying to desperately keep him from leaving. He slowed down a little so you could navigate the bushes more carefully. His fingers slipped away from yours, but he kept your hand, holding it up like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage.

The moment you escaped the bush, he interlocked your fingers once more.

Your mind raced as you followed him. Why was Mithrun holding your hand? What did it mean? Was he trying to acknowledge your relationship? Impossible. That was impossible. Mithrun surely didn’t want a relationship with you. There was something between you two, obviously, but it wasn’t anything either of you were ever going to do anything about. At least you thought as much. His desires weren’t just going to randomly appear again. And surely you weren’t special enough to cultivate anything new within him. No, Mithrun was just being—

The taut pull of a bow string filled the air. It happened too quickly. The whish of an arrow cutting through the atmosphere— it sliced the tension in half so smoothly, like butter. You only caught a glimpse of it as it came straight for your chest.

But it never hit you. You’d closed your eyes without realizing, but when you recognized an utter lack of pain, your eyes shot open to inspect the situation.

Mithrun still held your hand. Tight. A little too tight. You could see his jawline clenched, his ears pushed back. In front of you, only inches away from your chest, was the arrow. He’d caught it mid air. His hand was wrapped around the shaft and his knuckles were white as he gripped it.

Your heart didn’t just skip. It flipped, did an entire gymnastics routine, then promptly flopped onto the floor and passed out.

There were wasps in your stomach. Not butterflies. Wasps.

And Mithrun was angry. His chest rose and fell before he slipped his hand away from yours. You only caught a glimpse of his face as he turned away, but you could see the flicker of silver consuming the black; the crackle of a flame, the flip of a switch, a lightning strike in the distance.

He reared his arm back and promptly launched the arrow at something between the trees. A guttural noise erupted. It was thick with something, pain or blood or shock or fear. A tall-man stumbled out of hiding with the arrow lodged in the front of his neck, then he collapsed face down in the grass.

Silence.

Mithrun lowered his arm and stood up straight, staring at the body.

Your throat was strangled, but you managed to push the question out nonetheless. “Did you just… throw a goddamn arrow so hard that it went through a man’s neck?”

“Hm?” Mithrun sent you a glance, his eye widening just the slightest bit. But it returned to the black pit that you were seconds away from falling into. “Oh, yeah, I did.”

“Just now,” you pointed at the literal corpse laying in front of you, “you killed him.”

His brows furrowed, “Obviously.”

“Why?”

“He was going to kill you,” Mithrun looked at you as if the answer was clear and he was genuinely confused at your bewilderment. He lifted his hand, the left one, and held it out for you expectantly.

While your mind raced with questions and horror and a bit of admiration, you placed your hand in his. The air smelled like blood, metallic. Mithrun told you that he wouldn’t allow you to get hurt. He meant it. It felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of your lungs.

Maintaining eye contact, he leaned forward, pressing his dry lips to your knuckles. The forest, the chirping of birds, even the warmth of the sun overhead, faded into the background. All you knew at that moment were his cold fingers holding yours, the feeling of his lips on your skin, the lingering look he was giving you.

Damn.

His expression wasn’t blank this time. His good eye wasn’t lifeless. He looked at you through his lashes, his gaze glued to your face. Or perhaps not glued, but rather welded. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blush. But the intent was clear. His lips gently brushed across your knuckles for precisely four seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Your heart started to do its gymnastics routine again.

You could’ve lived beneath the spotlight of his gaze forever.

Yet soon enough, he dropped your hand and turned away. The tension dissipated like mist as he began walking, casually stepping over the corpse. “Let’s go. There’s been reports of a cockatrice nearby.”

Right. Monsters. Work.

You looked at the corpse and the blood soaking into the soft earth, drying to a darker color on the leaves and grass. You should’ve been horrified, but…

The fact that Mithrun was willing to kill for you only made you burn. Your knees were weak.

This was a desperate situation. This was a confusing situation. This was the kind of situation that required an expert.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

“Are you stupid?” Cithis asked.

Perhaps. You weren’t quite sure anymore.

You held a coffee mug tightly, wrapping both hands around it as you sent Cithis a pleading look. She returned your expression with something like boredom and disinterest. White braided hair fell over her bare shoulder. She sat across from you with one knee over the other and her hands politely clasped in her lap. While this elf woman was the picture of elegance, you knew what she really was. You knew how she could be.

Which was precisely why you’d come to her.

“I don’t understand,” you began explaining, feeling a ramble coming on, “he stares at me. He holds my hand. He gets furious if someone tries to hurt me. He looks at me sometimes with this face that almost makes me think he wants me. He—”

“I think you’re stupid,” Cithis interrupted casually, “Or in denial. You know precisely how the captain feels. Admit it already and stop wasting everybody’s time.”

You couldn’t help but scowl, “I don’t want to admit it.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” the words got caught in your throat and you had to forcefully shove them up and outwards, “Because it freaks me out. I don’t want to ruin the comfort between us. I don’t want Mithrun to one day get tired of me. I don’t want to… to die and leave him behind. He deserves better than that.”

Cithis only tilted her head, “Don’t you think he deserves to get what he wants? How often does the captain want something?”

Rarely. And you held the firm belief that when Mithrun wanted something, the world should bend its knee to meet that desire. Yet, this was different. Did he want you? Why? How? How can you be sure? Cithis seemed sure. How? Why?

Her stare was unamused. She looked at you as if you were a dead fly that landed in her food.

“I guess I just don’t want to assume,” you finally said with a heavy exhale.

“There’s no assumptions to be made here. He wants you. Everybody knows it.”

Your head shot up, “What?”

“Everybody knows it,” her eyes narrowed.

Nonsense. That couldn’t be true. You scoffed, “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Listen,” Cithis leaned forward in her chair, pinning you in place with topaz yellow eyes— or piss yellow, how you described her eyes usually changed depending on your mood. “Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”

You shot Cithis a dark look. Her lips twitched into a smile that held not even a hint of humor.

“I’m aware,” you said, “however, that doesn’t mean I understand. Does he even know how to flirt? Does he know how a relationship would work with him in this state? Do I know how a relationship would work between us? Does he have any desire to be, you know, intimate? Does he—”

Cithis interrupted, “Honestly, I believe the captain would burn down the world just to keep you warm. But that’s just my observation.”

What?

“What?”

“Idiot,” she huffed, “he touches you every chance he gets as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t have his hands on you in some way. He stares at you like you’re a damn masterpiece—”

“He stares at me rather blankly, actually.”

“But he’s still staring.”

“Maybe I’ve always got food in my teeth or something on my face.”

“You know I don’t really enjoy doing this.” Cithis leaned back in her chair and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Her piss yellow eyes narrowed, “It’s much more interesting to watch you and the captain silently orbit each other than it is to so dramatically reveal his feelings. Yet, I think it’s time you stop being foolish and give him what he wants. He’s developed this odd love language for you and I think you should start learning it.”

She was right. You hated it when Cithis was right.

But that was why you’d consulted her in the first place, because you knew she’d be right. Still, how annoying.

“Okay,” you threw your hands up, “What do I do? What’s the next step?”

She smiled softly, but her furrowed brows and pitying eyes made it clear that she was condescending you. You were a child trying to ask her why the sky was blue.

“Kiss him, obviously.”

Kiss him. Just kiss him. How simple. How elementary. The idea of kissing him definitely didn’t fill you with stinging wasps or anything.

All you could do was close your eyes to block out the sight of Cithis’s condescension. “Yeah. Kiss him. That’s– Yeah.”

“Now go,” she waved a dismissive, elegant hand, “off with you.”

Whatever. You shot her a glare before setting the warm coffee mug on the table in front of her. You’d been gripping it like a lifeline, and you hoped it left a ring on her nice table. Her lips parted in silent offense at the tiny act of revenge.

You left Cithis’s home. Were you assured? Yes. Were you going to kiss Mithrun? Probably not.

There was still so much to sort through, still so many concerns. Mithrun wanted you and, apparently, everybody knew it. He hadn’t even been trying to hide his feelings all this time. You accepted his staring and his touching and his willingness to do anything you asked as simple friendship.

Maybe you should kiss him.

Maybe you should—

“What’re you doing?”

A shout ripped from your throat. You couldn’t control yourself, you stumbled backward, putting up your hands as your heart jumped and your stomach churned. You knew who it was that had snuck up on you. He did this all the time.

“Mithrun,” you hissed, “stop teleporting to me, you know it drives me up a wall!”

Mithrun’s nose twitched ever so slightly. He was considering your words, just a little. Then he shook his head, “No. I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Right. Okay. So, he wasn’t willing to do anything you asked of him. Again, you could only wonder if he enjoyed this. Did Mithrun like getting on your nerves?

You two were standing outside of Cithis’s little house. She should’ve been in jail, really, but she and the other Canaries had been pardoned, sort of. It was really more like a house arrest. You knew that Cithis didn’t care enough to watch you and Mithrun out her window, but it was still unnerving to be so near her, knowing what she knew.

Now, you were the one grabbing him. You took his wrist, gently pulling him down the road. “Come on, we need to talk,” you said.

Mithrun’s good eye widened just a little as you led him through the streets of Melini. It was more crowded than usual. Merchants called out to passersby and people laughed and talked and lived their own little lives. And this was your life, now, pulling the man you adored through a crowd in a desperate attempt to find a quiet, private spot.

You still hadn’t decided whether or not to kiss him.

There was an alley nearby. It seemed relatively clean. You and Mithrun entered the alley and walked around the corner of a stone building before you released his wrist. Yet, immediately, he took your hand, unwilling to allow even a second of no contact between your bodies.

The words came flowing out of your mouth as if a dam had broken within you. “Your love language, I’m learning it.”

He only blinked, “What?”

“Physical touch,” you raised your other hand, wrapping it around his, “quality time,” you met his eye and considered the possibility of drifting in black ink forever, “acts of service.”

He blinked once more. “Oh. I see.”

Your brows furrowed, “Why were you near Cithis’s house anyway?”

“I was simply passing by when I saw you.”

“And your first response was to teleport to my side?”

His head tilted slightly, “Yes. It was.”

“Why?”

Now it was his turn to furrow his brows, “Why not? It’s what I wanted to do, so I did it.”

“And the staring,” you murmured, breathless, “the hand holding, the lingering touches… That’s what you want as well?”

You didn’t expect Mithrun to react strongly to this conversation, and his reaction fulfilled your expectations. He remained calm, but his gaze lingered strongly on yours. His other hand slowly raised and he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles onto your skin. You couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“Yes,” he answered, voice as scratchy and tired and level as ever, “that’s what I want.”

“Why?”

His composure broke just slightly. His eye narrowed and his lips quirked into a little frown. “Why wouldn’t I want to touch and stare at my partner?”

…What?

“Excuse me?” Your tone was thick with disbelief as your heart began to do flips. “Your partner?”

“Yes?” His brows furrowed and he blinked a few times as if confused, “My partner.”

“...Me?”

“Yeah.”

“But—” it was as if someone had punched you in the lungs, “Me?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m your partner?”

A sigh as he closed his eyes. “Yes. You’re my partner. You have been for the last year.”

“...Huh?”

His eyes opened to pin you in place, “Were you not aware that we’ve been dating for this long?”

“No!” You couldn’t help yell, “I wasn’t aware! I thought we were just good friends!”

Mithrun said your name, tilting his head with a hint of a smile on his lips. He was amused. How rare. You only wish it wasn’t at your expense. “I wouldn’t do these things with just a good friend.”

Alright. Cithis was right in calling you an idiot.

You felt like you were about to explode. You weren’t sure if that explosion would be from anger, embarrassment, or adoration. All three? You were going to self combust, then your flesh would fly everywhere and get on the walls and cause this huge, bloody mess. All that would be left of you were chunks. But if that happened, Mithrun wouldn’t be able to hold your hand anymore. He wouldn’t be able to stare. You weren’t about to take that away from him. The world needed to kneel and deliver him whatever he desired on a silver platter and you were not about to stop that from happening just because you exploded.

“I am in love with you,” you said matter-of-factly. It was pure word vomit.

“Yeah,” he remained calm, “I know.”

He knew. Of course he knew. You wanted so badly to smack him over the head.

“If you knew…” your voice was strangled as you resisted every urge to scream, “then why haven’t you ever kissed me?”

Mithrun shrugged. He shrugged.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes!” You snapped.

“Alright.” He released your hand, then grabbed your face and gently pulled you closer. His lips met yours. You wanted to melt. You were basically a popsicle on a hot summer day, then. And you had no clue what to do with your hands.

The kiss was… chaste. And soft. You weren’t quite sure what you expected. Certainly not passion, not from Mithrun. But chaste? That wasn’t right either. It was kind of… laid back, as if he’d kissed you a million times before and this was just another to add to the pile.

That wouldn’t do.

You figured out what to do with your hands. One gripped the front of his shirt, balling your fingers up in the fabric. The other stretched around his neck and tangled into his hair. He made a small noise of surprise. Satisfaction flickered through your chest. Gently, but firmly, you pulled him closer to you. Your back hit the stone wall. Your chests brushed against each other. His left hand dropped from your cheek and found your waist as he dug his fingers in and suddenly yanked your body against his.

There. That was better.

Slowly, Mithrun deepened the kiss, tilting his head. His hand slid away from your cheek and found a resting place on the back of your neck. You were both breathing through your noses as you kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed.

Heat began to build up in your abdomen. Your entire body tingled. He pushed you further against the wall and let out a soft exhale before introducing a soft bite on your lower lip. Another flash of heat wracked you, leaving you breathless.

Finally, the need for oxygen dominated and Mithrun pulled back, but only a few inches. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, letting out an exhale.

“I think… I like that,” he murmured, “We should do more of it.”

All you could do was nod weakly.

“Right. More,” you leaned in, pressing your lips against his, and it started all over again.

One might call it a new beginning. In reality, it was a continuation of what always was. You set aside your endless questions and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him some more.

You’d officially fallen off the edge. No more teetering, no more balance. You were gone, and you’d never hit the ground.

#ehehe #I take requests btw #rubs my dirty little raccoon hands together #will I ever write for another character? perhaps #x reader #reader insert #mithrun x reader #mithrun #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #my writing #writing #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #gn reader

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 4 months

Text

All I see is Red ♦️

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: holy shit, this took me so long to edit fml it's the longest thing I've written so far. I also think it's terribly paced, but I'll leave that to you. I hope you like it anyway <3

~Fi 🐝

《Warnings》: ADA SLANDER. Girl is getting wrecked in this one. Ada's a bitch. Reader is absolutely furious, Leon is supportive but a lil bit useless, description of injuries, feminine rage, RC flashbacks.

《Word count》: 6.1k

Inspired by this post of mine <3

Reader's codename is 'Loon/Loony' after the bird!

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

🗡°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°❤️‍🩹°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°🗡

Red. A color that held many a mystery, signifying an infinite amount of things and emotions. Every shade as different as the next. Ruby, crimson, maroon, burgundy.

Where others commonly thought of the symbol of love, a deep red rose, or perhaps the pale plush on the cheeks of newly confessed lovers and the sensuality of passionate nights, you saw different things.

Your relationship with the color red hadn't always been a complicated one, not until that fateful night. You wished you could go back where red was just that; red, a color, nothing more. Not something that had you anxious and alert.

You didn't see love, passion or deep devotion. What you saw where the horrors of human greed and pride. You saw the blood dripping from the gnarled jaws of the first infected you'd ever encountered at the gas station with Leon. You saw the red lights of broken down and abondend cop cars. You saw the red of dismembered police officers and civilians.

You saw the red of Kendo's Gun shop and the redness his daughter, Emma, held in her eyes. You saw the red of lieutenant Branagh's bloody finger prints in officer Elliot's notebook. And you couldn't get all the other shades out of your head- especially not the red of her dress, or the red dripping from his shoulder because he took a bullet for her.

It only ever haunted you, the tearing lump of flesh that once was Dr. Birkin, or the blaring red lights deep inside the NEST.

It wouldn't leave your mind. It was filled with red, overflowing with its common link to anger. The hot, excruciating fury that boiled in your veins when the facade of the woman in red broke into two, revealing what she really was.

You thought, as you watched her fall and saw the ruby shade being enveloped by unforgiving black, that you could move on.

But you never did. You never could. The betrayal and anger were still deeply rooted in your veins. But not only for what she did to you, but what she did to him. How she used and abused his kindness, loyalty, and care for her gain, pretending to care only to repay the both of you like this after you'd saved her.

But you weren't alone, fighting to stay afloat in the red sea that was trying to drown you. You changed your approach.

Instead of all the blood and anger you saw in red, you tried seeing Claire's jacket. Or the woven, red hair band Sherry wore. As well as the redness in Leon's cheeks after all the running and fighting.

You tried seeing the dark, dull shade that soaked his bandage, signifying that it was over. You were safe, he was safe, Claire and Sherry were safe. And it worked.

You saw the shiny crimson of Claire's bike, the leathery red of a matching jacket that Sherry desperately wanted, and the beautiful shade of the single rose that Leon gifted you on your first date.

You even saw the pale red reflections of the lovebites that littered your skin from time to time, courtesy of Leon.

The red of that nights horrors slipped to the back of your mind, just like the red of the Umbrella logo and the red cross that sat exactly where Raccoon City once was, standing out against the pale paper of a map.

All was well as love and passion took the reigns on the red in your mind, but if course things don't stay well forever.

And your peace was broken when you caught a faint glimpse of red from the corner of your eye.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

This place wouldn't have been your choice of a vacation destination, but lord knows the government doesn't give a shit about that.

The village was rundown, muddy, and most importantly, full of walking corpses.

Unbeknownst to you, of course.

The horrors had started ever since you and Leon stepped out of that god forsaken car, the red of blood, innocent blood, forcing its way into your mind once again.

You tightly gripped the red ammo box you'd just picked up from the ground after Leon had kicked a wooden crate into splinters.

"Hey, hey, easy! You're shins aren't made of steel." You scolded the blonde agent on your left, who only responded with a very playful eye roll while checking the mag of his gun.

"Don't you worry about my bones, Loony." He chuckled, patting your shoulder.

"Don't call me that! S'not my fault you got the cooler codename." You grumbled. "And for your information, Loons are excellent swimmers!"

"You see any water?" He shot back with a grin which earned him a huff from you.

Your gaze turned back to the pale red box in your hand, slight indents forming where your fingers were as you subconsciously squeezed it a little too hard.

The edges were worn and the colors were dull, but the bullets inside clinked together like the shuddering melody that haunted you ever since Raccoon City.

Leon noticed your dazed stare at the small container, they way your brows were scrunched together and the structure of the paper box crumbling under the hard grip of your hand.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked softly, firmly placing one of his hands on your shoulder. Your head snapped towards him, his gentle words pulling you from your trance.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly, shoving the box into your pocket.

"Alright. Let's see if the locals know something." He replied firmly. The air he had about him told you he hadn't completely believed your answer and that he would keep an eye on you.

The last thing he needed was you getting in your head. He needed your full support and attention in order to pull this off.

You were about to respond when a small zip sound made you whip your head in its direction.

"Did you hear that?" You fully turned to face the way the sound came from and narrowed your eyes to see whether whatever caused that noise was in your sight.

"Hear what?" Leon asked puzzled.

"It sounded like a... a zipline or something." You glanced at Leon, who still had his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Never mind." You muttered, walking past him towards the village entrance.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The locals did know something. They knew that they definitely did not like the two of you and that there would be nothing more satisfying than watching you burn.

The haunting screams of one of the Spanish Police officers echoed off the broken and shitty houses as he went up in flames.

"Jesus Christ.." Leon breathed out, reaching for his gun.

"This is not gonna be pretty." You mumbled, aiming for one of the villagers, who had noticed you by now and were storming in your direction, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit him right between the eyes with a splat sound and your eyes widened when he only held his head before continuing his way, lit torch in hand.

"What the fuck..."

Leon looked just as shocked as you, but didn't hesitate to feed the fucker four bullets to his forehead until he finally toppled over.

"Something's not right." You stated quietly, a crease between your eyebrows.

"We'll talk later." He said firmly, aiming his weapon again. Giving him a sharp nod, you moved in and took out any local that blocked your way.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You had underestimated the number of people that lived here. You were completely surrounded, standing in the Plaza of the village, careful not to slip on the muddy ground. Leon's back was firmly pressed against yours as you tried your hardest to fight off the horde.

The once quiet town was now filled with the piercing sounds of fired shots, the unholy screams and screeches from the townspeople and the heavy thud of bodies falling into puddles.

Your elbows were locked as you mercilessly took down local after local, only stopping to quickly reload your pistol. While reloading, you noticed the smallest flash of bright red flitting over the terracotta roof tops.

You froze and, stupidly, lowered your guard as your eyes were frantically searching for whatever that was. The fact that it was red made your blood solidify in your veins and your breath to get caught in your throat. It was as if time around you slowed down, the images of that night seeping into every crevice of your mind. The blood, Leon's blood, the lights, Kendo, and his daughter, Dr. Birkin and her. It all hit you again like a truck that was carelessly speeding down the road.

But you had no time to get lost in those horrific images swirling in your head or to slip into a panic attack because you were tackled onto the dirty ground, wrinkled hands wrapping around your throat, squeezing tight.

You were struggling for air, desperately clawing at the discolored arms that quite literally held your life in their hands. An old woman had jumped on top of you, screaming phrases you couldn't understand in your face as her spittle landed on your cheeks.

Her face was sunken in, more than it should at her age, and the veins around her eyes seemed almost black. And in her eyes there was only rage, a burning fire just like the one they'd lit before.

You were thrashing your legs, anything to get her off and her hands away from your neck. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your heart pouding in your ears. Leon came to your rescue quickly, harshly ripping the woman away from you and shooting her in the head twice with no hesitation.

"Loony, are you alright?" Leon asked firmly, keeping the few remaining residents at bay.

"Yeah, I... don't worry about me.." You heaved, soothing the red mark on your neck. You were coughing and panting, trying to steady yourself. Leon had given you a very sharp look that said I'll take care of this. and you weren't about to argue with him. There was no point in wasting precious ammo with how shaky and unreliable your hands were at the moment.

You dragged yourself behind a small fence and took deep breaths, pressing the heel of your palm into your temple.

Suddenly, the loud sound of the church bell bounced off the buildings and everything went eerily quiet. The once furious and aggressive villagers now slowly made their way to the church, mumbling soft illegible words and phrases.

They payed no mind to Leon as they brushed past him like nothing happened and he didn't exist. The door fell shut with a heavy sound after all the remaining people had entered. Leon turned in confusion.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?" He huffed, his voice being the only thing heard, besides the soft crackling of the fire at the stake, and the quiet rustle of leaves as a soft breeze passed through them.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"What the hell happened back there?" It was clear Leon wanted an answer for your little freeze up. He knew you, and you would never let someone, or rather something, get that close to you.

"I... just got distracted." You mumbled, keeping your eyes on the sweet cow you were currently petting. Leon had gone looking for more supplies in the empty houses and had spoken to Hunnigan about Baby Eagle's whereabouts while you stumbled upon the gentle creature chewing on some grass in one of the open stables.

You needed to get your head back on right, and scratching the cattle helped clear the fog over your mind. It mooed softly and licked at your hand and you could feel the roughness of its pink tongue against your palm. Leon sighed and tipped his head forward.

"We can't afford distractions, Loony. You know that."

"I know. I just... have a really bad feeling about this. It's like... we're being watched. And I saw something red moving across the rooftops and I.. got inside my head. It won't happen again." You kept your voice small and quiet, looking down to hide the faint spark of shame in your eyes.

You wouldn't fuck this up. You couldn't fuck this up. You needed to pull yourself together and get back to the task at hand.

"Good." Leon said softly, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He wished he could do more. He wished he could take you into his arms and kiss your forehead. He knew how odd and complicated your thoughts on the color red were. You'd told him all about it, and he held you through it all, as the two of you relived that nights events in your own minds.

But you'd set a strict rule. Absolutely no display of affection during work. The risk of the enemy finding out was too high, and they would surely use that newfound information to their advantage.

It wasn't easy being in a relationship and then working together like this, but you made it work. You made it work purely because you worked. You matched Leon perfectly, and he matched you.

You were a dream team to the government, which is why they kept you close. And now you would use your skills as a team and save Ashley.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Ending up in this Castle had not been part of your plan. It was an impressive building, no doubt, but the light marble walls and beautiful greenery that was littered with colorful little

blooms painted a wrong picture of its owner. The... host, shall we call him, hadn't given you one second to breathe. You were running and fighting, and running and fighting, and occasionally taking a hit or two to shield Ashley from as much harm as you could. It was all so... familiar. It felt like just how you tried to shield and protect Sherry from Chief Irons.

It made your head cloudy with bad memories. The constant separation from Ashley reminded you of how you somehow always caught up in the middle. You'd started out in the Police station with Leon after the crash but ended up in the orphanage with Claire, trying to rescue Sherry.

Well, that's not quite true, actually. Claire needed your help, so you left Leon... with her.

She seemed trustworthy enough with those big three letters plastered next to her name. What a fucking mistake that was.

There hasn't been a single day where you don't regret your decision. You felt so betrayed, and you still do. You were used just as much as Leon, putting your trust into someone who would've left you to die.

The memories rippled in Leon's blood, staring you right in the face, as you took a look at his injured hand. Whatever was inside of you had gotten inside of Ashley's mind, causing her to attack Leon with a knife. It sliced open his palm as he tried to stop the swing.

You were currently using some first aid spray on the wound before wrapping it on a piece of cloth you'd cut off from the many curtains around the Castle. Leon, as always, insisted he was fine and you needn't fret over him, but you were truly fucked if he couldn't hold his guns correctly.

You shut him down and began lecturing him on how stupid it was. And he listened, like he always did, staring at you with a smile on his face. He glanced past you, eyes falling on the gate that had separated Ashley from the both of you, and his smile was replaced with a small frown.

Ashley looked so terrified, and it broke your heart. She didn't deserve any of this, being ripped from her life and then having to fight for it all the same. You had to find her before Ramon did.

"Can you fit that under your glove?" You asked softly, tying a tight knot on the makeshift bandage around Leon's hand.

"Uh, yeah. Should work." Leon mumbled, squeezing his hand in a fist multiple times to test the flexibility of the wrap before putting his glove back on.

"Alright," he groaned as he got up from the edge of the stoke fountain he'd been sitting on,

"Let's get our Baby Eagle back." He held out his good hand to you, which you took, and he pulled you off the ground.

"Are you sure your hand's okay?" You questioned with a crease of concern between your brows when you saw him wince as he grabbed his gun. He only smiled at you softly and gently brushed his calloused thumb over your cheekbone.

"I'm okay. I promise."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The courtyard was really quite beautiful. The high and dense walls of green gave it a somewhat mysterious and mystical feel. There were plenty of old and mossy stone statues littered around the place, with a few fountains here and there. If it hadn't been under these circumstances, you might've called your stay here enjoyable.

It didn't matter now as you slipped from the literal maze that was the courtyard, into an open stone hallway right by its side. The gate was locked, so your only chance at finding Baby Eagle was to go around, which meant through the dark walls of the Castle. You weren't thrilled, but it was your only option.

There were two doors in the hallway; one to your right, and one straight ahead, at the end of the corridor.

"You go right, I'll take the one straight." Leon said, motioning to the wooden door in front of him.

"Okay." You nodded, checking the mag of your gun. There was no telling what else would hide in the Castle. Leon reached out to the door handle, but you interrupted him, making him stop in his tracks.

"Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. I saw some snakes around here."

He gave you a firm nod and proceeded, as did you, carefully entering the room.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Leon slowly pushed the door open, having his gun at the ready if anything decided to jump him. When he couldn't detect any immediate threats, he stepped inside fully and looked around.

The room was lit up in a warm hue from the various candles burning, their wax dripping down the metal candle holders.

There were many wooden cabinets pushed against the walls, filled with all sorts of shiny junk. An open window at the back if the room caught his eye, and he carefully moved closer as the hinges creaked.

"You can stop right there, Leon." A voice called from behind him, accompanied by the cocking of a gun and the clacking sound of high heels against the old wooden floors.

"Wouldn't make me use this, would you?" He'd know that voice anywhere. It haunted his dreams, whispering sweet lies and betrayals in his ear, only to fade away when it's owner fell to their death.

He clenched his jaw and chuckled bitterly, letting his gun fall to the floor with a thud.

"Well, after six years, that is one hell of a greeting... Ada."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The room was uneventful. It was mostly bare, only a big table in the middle filling the space, littered with scrap pieces of paper and metal parts.

There were no windows, only a couple of candles to light your path. You searched around nonetheless, and found a small pot with a green herb hidden in the corner.

You hummed at your find and plucked the stems, storing them in your pockets so you could grind up the leaves later and combine them with a rare yellow herb Leon had found in the courtyard.

You rummaged through the papers on the table, just in case, but were pulled from your task when you picked up muffled voices coming from Leon's direction. Alarm bells went off in your head, alongside utter confusion.

Who could he be talking to? You doubted the.. lovely.. gentlemen who had welcomed you had a knack for talking. It wasn't Ramón. It didn't sound nearly as pitchy and annoying for it to be him. There was no way it was Ashley..

what was going on? With furrowed brows and immense caution, you quickly walked down the stone hallway to the room Leon had chosen to investigate, finding its door ajar.

Your heart stopped when you heard what sounded like a gun hitting the floor. Next, there were sounds of struggle and soft grunts, same with a noise like a blade slicing through the air.

It felt like your feet were rooted in the ground, refusing to move. You had to pull yourself together. Leon was in potential danger.

You kicked open the door so hard that it smashed into the sturdy stone walls with a loud thud. When your eyes landed on the sight before you, your hands fell limp at your sides, your mouth slightly agape.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Leon had his knife pressed against Ada's throat and she slightly shifted her head to look over her shoulder, straight at you. She made an amused sound before turning back to face Leon.

"You brought your little friend, too, I see." She said with a smirk. Her voice was so smooth, too smooth. All you wanted to do was put a scratch in it. Leon stared at you, and you stared at him, with the occasional glance to the woman who ruined your life.

You stepped further into the room, keeping your eyes on her while letting the heavy door fall into its lock.

The second you finally met her eye, every single emotion you felt that night, and all the six years after, came bubbling up all at once, almost choking you. Your eyes were burning, your jaw was clenched and your breathing became irregular. You circled around her until you stood right next to Leon.

"Why the fuck are you not dead?" The bite and disbelief in your voice was evident, you balled your hands into fists to keep the fury and sadness at bay.

"Ooooh, Ouch." Ada feigned hurt and smirked back at you. God, how badly you wanted to slap that stupid smirk off her face.

You took a breather, trying to sort the words in your head. You didn't know what you wanted to say first. Everything wanted to come out at once. All the pain, and the anger and the fear. All the deep hatred you held in your heart for her. You looked up at the ceiling and shook your head with a small scoff.

"I can't believe this... for six goddamn years I've been trying to move on and get over what happened, get over what you did. And just as I was starting to get a grip, you show up. Why? You couldn't just do your shitty job without bothering us? You just can't go quietly, can you, Ada?"

"What, you're still not over that?" She shifted on her feet and almost rolled her eyes. There was no remorse in her voice, no regret, nothing. Just annoyance for your inability to be over it.

"You're awfully confident for someone with a knife at her throat." Leon said harshly, earning him a glare from Ada.

"You... are you serious? You used me! You used Leon, preyed on our fear only to... to fuck everything up! Do you even have an ounce of an idea of what you did?" Your throat started closing up as the emotions ran amok in your chest, leaving you with a shaky voice and a burning in eyes.

"We were fighting for our lives, thinking we were the only survivors and then you came along with your fucking FBI badge and gave us hope. Do you even know how-" she cut you off with an amused scoff that turned into a scowl.

"Oh, please. I didn't give you hope. You gave yourself hope." Your face dropped slightly, which only lasted a second before an expression of unimaginable rage took over your features.

"You fucking-" Leon stopped you from surging at her with a firm hand on your shoulder, sheathing his knife, "he took a bullet for you! I twisted and contorted three times over for you because we thought you wanted to help! We- We had faith in you, and we trusted you." You had to hold back a sob as you recalled the painful memories of betrayal that still sat deep in the marrow of your bones.

The first few tears sprung from your lashline, leaving streaks of salt on your cheeks. You were so, so incredibly angry and hurt. Your nostrils flared as you exhaled sharply, cleching your fists.

"But now I see that I should've shot you between the eyes first chance I got." You said lowly, staring daggers at Ada.

"A feisty one, huh?" She smirked bitterly, "Keep your bitch under control, Leon."

"Say that again, Ada, and I swear to god-" Leon hissed as he pushed past you, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate her. She laughed, she fucking laughed, and tilted her head at him.

"What are you gonna do? You're too soft for your own good." She spat, the venom in her tone could burn through your flesh like acid. Something inside you snapped.

The thin, tethered line of patience that you'd been holding on ever since you stepped foot inside this room crumbled under the weight of your emotions.

You quickly pulled Leon's combat knife from its sheath and pressed it against Ada's neck, successfully backing her up into a corner until she hit the stone wall with a grunt.

"I would choose my next words very carefully. I'm not above slitting your throat and watching all the lies spill out." You warned lowly, your eyes darkening. You saw a flash of something in her eyes. You couldn't decipher it. She was impossible to read. Everything about her was fake.

She could get on her knees and beg for your forgiveness and you'd believe her. That's how dangerous she was, how unpredictable.

"That was you in the village, wasn't it? The red I saw flashing on the rooftops? The weird sound I heard? That was all fucking you, wasn't it?" You seethed, pressing the blade to her neck, almost slicing through the knit fabric of her dress.

"You are a pest of a human being, Ada." You continued angrily, letting everything spill out.

"We were willing to die for the cause, for you, just so you and that stupid sample could get out and prevent this from ever happening again. The fact that that means nothing to you shows how truly rotten you are. You're not a good person, Ada, and you never will be." You noticed a shift in her demeanor when you harshly spat the last sentence.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards. You'd hit her where it hurt, apparently. A gentle hand on your shoulder made the harsh crease between your eyebrows soften.

"Loony, we have to get Ashley. We can't let Ramón get her." Leon said quietly, trying to tug you away from Ada by your arm.

With a sharp jerk of your shoulder, you shook him off of you, nicking her jaw with the edge of the knife in the process. Ada breathed heavily as she tried to keep the knife away from her neck. She looked past you, directly at Leon.

"Leave the girl. She's lost no matter what."

At the mention of Ashley and without thinking, you struck her across the face. She gasped in surprise, both at the impact and that you had the guts to slap her.

"You don't fucking get to decide who's lost!" You bellowed, trying to keep your hands steady with all the rage that was coursing through your veins.

"You better thank whatever God you believe in, because that's the only one standing between your neck and my knife." You threatened with a harsh stare that made Ada swallow.

"Loony-"

"If I catch you near Ashley you're dead meat, Wong." You said lowly before stepping away from her and pressing the knife back in Leon's hand.

With a last angry look you walked towards the door. You pulled it open, the hinges groaning under its weight. You looked back over your shoulder.

"Just know this... no amount of good deeds will ever undo what you've done. You're the one that's lost. Not Ashley."

You didn't wait for a reaction, or for Leon, you just needed to get away from her.

You headed towards the courtyard again and sat down near a fountain, watching the small stream of water drip from the stone vase.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

It was over. This absolute nightmare of a mission was over. You were exhausted and covered in... well, maybe you didn't want to know. You'd removed your Las Plagas parasite, and Saddler met his demise at the hands of Leon.

You could get Ashley back home and then barricade yourself in your shared apartment with Leon, waiting for the next shitty mission to come along.

It was an endless cycle of exhaustion and pain, but you were lying if you said it wasn't addictive.

You fell to your knees with heavy breaths, letting everything fall off your shoulders. You were so relieved you could cry. Your neck and shoulders hurt from tensing up, your back had been crushed into too many walls, and you'd been thrown against a barrel.

Holding your side in pain, you lifted your head up only to see Leon on the ground, reaching out for the amber. Your body sagged, the adrenaline fading away by the minute.

However, your head shot up when you heard what sounded like a metal clang of shoes. Ada came down from the sky, tucking her grapling gun back into its holster.

"Jesus christ- do you ever fucking go away?!" You yelled, more to yourself than her. She bent down and plucked the amber right from under Leon's nose. You heaved yourself up with a groan and grabbed one of the small knives you'd found along the way.

You aimed and threw it at her, you didn't care where it hit her, if it hit her at all, but if she didn't get the hint that you wanted her to fuck off now, all hope was lost.

The blade embedded itself in her thigh, making her cry out in pain and, in turn, dropping the amber.

You used all your remaining strength and threw yourself at the small glass container, grasping it tightly. Ada's eyes widened, still holding onto her injured thigh.

"W-What.. what are you doing?" She demanded through hisses and groans. Dragging yourself up with the support of one of the metal rails, you held up the amber in the light.

"Fuck you.. Fuck this stupid little stone.. Fuck whoever you're working for. I am done." You panted, throwing the amber as far as you could, watching as it disappeared into the deep, dark ocean.

"No!" Ada screamed, reaching out for the stone, "do you have any idea what you just did!?"

"I don't give a shit."

You limped over to her and bent down, meeting her at eye level. Pulling the knife from her thigh, you couldn't help but chuckle.

"This feels a little... familiar, wouldn't you say, Ada?"

You thought back to when a piece of metal had lodged itself into her leg back in the Umbrella lab. You'd found her by coincidence, lying on a pile of debris and rubble. If it hadn't been for you and Leon, she would've died in that hellhole. Not that you ever received a thank you.

"Go to hell." She spat in your face, holding her bleeding thigh.

"I'm already in hell." You mumbled bitterly, sinking down next to Leon, who had an expression on his face that you could only describe as awe. With a scowl on her face, she heaved herself up and limped towards the helicopter that had flown up.

Ada managed to get into the heli, with a little trouble, and smirked back at you.

"I'd offer you a ride, but... I think I'd rather watch you be blown to bits and pieces."

"If I ever see you again, I'll be your worst nightmare." You snapped at her, praying she'd just fuck off already.

She scoffed with a frown and signaled the pilot to take off.

"Have fun being mince meat."

You sighed and slacked against Leon once she was gone. Your head fell against his shoulder and you closed your eyes.

"We need to get out of here, the whole Island's gonna blow." Leon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I know, just..." Your voice was shaky, trying to suppress the tears that would ultimately spill. You took a deep breath, blinking away the salty water droplets. You needed to be strong. You needed to get Ashley out of here.

You had plenty of time to break down when you were back at home. Leon noticed your fight to keep the tears away and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly while pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You're okay. Ashley's okay. I'm okay." He cooed, gently rocking you.

"I love you. And I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, but we can only do that if we find a ride out of here. Now." Leon said as softly as he could. He wanted to comfort you, hold you, and kiss you, but the situation was urgent.

"You know I'm always prepared." You sniffled with a small grin, holding up a pair of keys for Leon to see.

"Where the hell did you get these?" Leon asked bewildered. You got off the ground with a groan and grinned.

"She's got some pretty shitty pockets." Leon followed suit with getting up with an amused smirk playing in his lips.

"You clever little thing."

You winked and tossed him the keys. He chuckled once he caught them and noticed the little bear Keychain that was attached to the keyring.

"Cute."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were sitting on your couch, knees tucked under your body as you watched the TV. Your gaze was unfocused, and in reality, you weren't watching the TV at all.

You were thinking about everything that happened. About all the emotions that you didn't get out, all the things you hadn't managed to say.

You were inside your head all the time. Not being able to focus on anything without slipping away into that September night or those rainy days in Spain.

Leon noticed. Of course he did. And it broke his heart to see you like this, all dull and void of joy. But he knew that this would pass. He wouldn't allow you to get lost.

Which is why he held you that little bit tighter and whispered how much he loved you just that little bit more often.

You didn't notice Leon coming into the living room, jumping slightly when he slid down next to you on the couch and slung his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"Look what came in the mail." He said softly, pressing a small decorative card into your hand. You looked him with furrowed brows but he gave you an encouraging nod and pressed a kiss to your temple.

There was a big, red 18 on the front, surrounded by small hearts. You turned the card over and began reading the inscription. Your eyes got brighter with every line you read, and a smile tugged on your lips.

"How sweet of her. Sherry invited us to her 18th birthday party." You smiled softly, looking at Leon. He hummed and pulled tighter against him.

"She called earlier when you were taking a nap. She's really excited to see you again, you know." He replied softly. You chuckled.

"Yeah, me too. It's been forever. God, I can't believe she's turning 18 already." You sighed.

"Time flies, huh?" Leon grinned.

"It sure does." You giggled, snuggling closer to Leon.

"Hey, is Claire still planning to take Sherry for her first ride on her bike for her birthday?" You asked.

"Hell yeah, she is. She's got her Harley all polished up for the big day." He smirked. You laughed and let your head fall back against Leon's shoulder. He pulled you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest, and started littering soft kisses down the side of your face.

"Lee! What are you doing!" You giggled, trying to get away from his wet kisses. He held you tightly, not letting you escape his grasp.

"Jus' wanna see you smile, baby." He mumbled against your skin. With a mischievous smile, you let yourself fall onto the length of the sofa, dragging Leon on top of you.

You placed a sweet kiss on his lips, brushing some of his blonde locks out of his face.

"I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart." Leon whispered, looking at you with a smile, blushed cheeks and slightly red lips.

Maybe the color red wasn't so bad, after all.

🗡°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°❤️‍🩹°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°🗡

More of my Leon fics are here 🩷

Let me know what you think!

《Tag list》: @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy @valkyrurx @nayeoniiie @wandering-poetess

#bumblebeesfromvenus #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #re4r ada wong #resident evil x reader

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carriesthewind · 23 days

Text

I watched Jenny Nicholson's new video on disney's failed Star Wars hotel (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0CpOYZZZW4), and there is some absolutely *fascinating* mental processes on display on the galactic starcruiser subreddit.

While many people are responding reasonably, some die-hard fans over there are spouting the absolutely unhinged, reality-denying, victim-blaming talking points she discusses in her video. There are several people who seem really invested in not just disagreeing with her, but insisting that she is not only objectively wrong but a bad-faith hater.

So I picked one of these people at random and scrolled back to try and see what their experience of the hotel was.

[Rambling musing below the cut. Unedited because I'm typing this because I can't get to sleep.]

Unsurprisingly, they insisted it was magical and life-changing and one of the best experiences anyone could have. However, these declarations of how important it felt to them were accompanied by no specifics about what about the experience was actually so great (with one exception, which I'll get to in a minute). Their very first post was about how they couldn't articulate why experience felt special.

I have some theories.

First, as Jenny alludes to in her video, there is a psychological pressure to justify the value in something a person has already invested so much money and time into. At one point, the redditor describes waiting on the phone on hold for two hours just to book an *add-on* for their trip. And as she says, the feeling of judgment from others only adds to this pressure. The redditor outright states that they feel uncomfortable saying they went to the hotel (outside the fan groups) because of how people react.

But I think it's more than that. As Jenny describes in her video (and as the redditor's description of their own experience matches), the experience was exhausting and overstimulating. The redditor describes being overwhelmed and overbooked, but also says they feel like they should have skipped out on sleep because they feel like they missed thing. And then, at the end of the second day - a literal 16 hour day of activities - there is a big finale, starting with an adrenaline-triggering "alarm," where you watch a cool live fight in the midst of a hundred other cheering, excited people. And this is the one positive specific that the redditor describes (multiple times, in fact!). They aren't a big fan of the sequels, but they "gasped when Rey showed up" in the finale. This isn't surprising at all! They were watching a live show while in a suggestible state and experienced an adrenaline rush, and their brain processed this as a magical experience.

This is reinforced by the redditor's descriptions of their nostalgia. They talk frequently about wishing they were in the hotel and wanting to return. But they specifics of what they miss are either vague or signifiers of the emotional experience (e.g. talking about how they miss the smell...because it reminds them of the hotel). And at one point, they mention that they miss the pre-trip anticipation almost as much as they miss the hotel itself.

This is a huge tip off that their interpretation of their experience was completely disconnected from the reality of the hotel. Whatever made the experience feel magical for them (whether or not I'm correct about my suspicions as outlined above), it had very little to do with any disney did or the actual quality of the hotel.

To be clear, I'm not invalidating the redditor's experience - if they say it felt life-changing and they don't regret what they spent, I believe them! I love all sorts of things in ways not reflected by any "objective" quality.

HOWEVER. I can also admit that! If someone criticizes something flawed that I love, it's not a personal attack on me! And my love for it isn't an justification for a) contributing to a narrative to encourage people to massively overpay for it and b) attacking people who didn't care for it and blame them for "doing it wrong"!

Especially - and here's the most interesting part - if I have many of the same criticisms of the thing myself.

Because while the redditor has only one specific about what made the experience great, they actually include lots of specifics about their experience. It's just that those specifics are all flaws. Here are some details of their experience as they actually describe it:

There were not enough character actors for them to actually interact with them meaningfully

The setup of the role play made them feel horrible social anxiety for a large chunk of the first day

They were forced to miss at least one major story event because of poor scheduling by the app/disney

Describing being randomly shown story beats disconnected of their actions within the roleplay/game (but describing it as 'I don't know how we accomplished that')

Nearly crying at one point because they were effectively locked out of a story moment

Wasting over an hour trying to figure out how to do a minor quest b/c of poor design

The experience the redditor actually describes is of a fairly-poorly designed, overcrowded larp that made them anxious, exhausted, and at times actively miserable, but ended with a really great adrenaline high. All of these things are objectively bad, and they all match onto Jenny's criticism.

But the redditor subjectively looks back at their experience as wonderful and magical. And so they are angry at Jenny, even though her criticisms map neatly onto their own experience, because she frames them as problems with the hotel. They seem to feel a pressure to defend their subjective experience by rejecting the possibility of any other interpretation of the experience, even the objective bad experiences of others.

In one of their most recent (of many) angry posts about how disingenuous Jenny is, they say, "For me, there's no reason to relitigate the debates surrounding the cruiser. We are more than happy to enjoy our memories from the time and let the rest of the "haters" just wallow in their hatred."

Three sentences earlier, they described how they used some of their precious time inside the magical hotel to try to prove she was lying about not being able to see the dinner show because she was placed behind a column.

The redditor cannot simply enjoy their memories from the time. Because even in the middle of their experience, they were forceably attempting to prove that all the money and time and expectations they invested *must* have been objectively worth it. Jenny's video is threatening because the redditor cannot pretend that they just had different experiences, that Jenny got unlucky while the redditor got lucky and had fun.

After coming home they feel unhappy, which *must* be because the experience was so good that they are dissatisfied returning to their 'normal life'. The anxiety, the wasted time, even the tears? Those weren't the experience, the experience was the adrenaline rush at the very end. It was life-changing. It was magical. It was worth it. All of it was worth every penny. It had to be.

#rambling b/c brain goes brrr instead of sleeping #probably should skip reading this one

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sare11aa11eras · 2 months

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Heyy! if you’re still taking art requests and if you have the time, can you draw Arya killing Dareon?

“Did he ever find a ship to Oldtown? He said he was supposed to sail on the Lady Ushanora.”

“We all were. Lord Snow’s command. I told Sam, leave the old man, but the fat fool would not listen.” The last light of the setting sun shone in his hair. “Well, it’s too late now.”

“Just so,” said Cat as they stepped into the gloom of a twisty little alley.

-Cat of the Canals, A Feast for Crows

Hi nonny!! Sorry this took like. A month for me to actually sit down and start working on. Hope you like it!

Few notes under the cut!

When I sat down to re-read the scene, I was struck by how Martin’s narration skips over the actual killing, jumping ahead to Arya returning home that night. This is of course a dramatic tool, obscuring the murder from first time readers so that Arya revealing it at the end of the chapter is that much more striking, but I think it’s interesting from a writing standpoint that we don’t get to see Dareon die from her point of view here. We get none of her internal monologue, her rationale for the killing, just the conversation leading up to it and the consequences later. I really like this as a writing choice, as it leaves so much up to the reader’s observation and understanding of her character.

Visually it was very important to me to show the vair lining the inside of the cloak, a visual/color reminder that Arya makes this execution as an exercise of her Stark identity— he is a night’s watch deserter and furthermore he just make a remark about Jon. As a Stark, it is her duty to kill Night’s Watch deserters, and she likely feels a double duty as Jon’s sister. Vair is not consistently used to signify the Starks in the text— only 4/10 total instances of it, including this one, in the text are in reference to the Starks, two more are for the Freys, and one is for Cersei, so clearly it’s not a Stark-exclusive. Still, the grey and white vair on the inside of the cloak instantly struck me as a symbol of how Arya views Dareon in this moment as a Stark man who has betrayed her family.

I realize you might have hoped for a clearer depiction of Arya, but I had a few reasons for this layout. First, I wanted to obscure her face— obscure her emotions and motivations, just as the text does, leaving them to the audience’s deductive skills. Secondly, this was a pretty easy pose and it got me that visual piece with the cloak. And thirdly, the description of the scene emphasizes Arya stepping into the shadows, and I wanted to capture that ninja assassin mystique to the scene as it would have been from a personal point of view.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #my art #art requests #arya stark #dareon the singer #affc #anonymous #hi nonny!#Asks #asoiaf fashion hour #cat of the canals #dareon

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racecarart · 11 months

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FE Awakening taguels but they emote like actual rabbits.

(Image description below!)

Image description:

A four-panel comic featuring characters from Fire Emblem Awakening. Panel 1: Robin is sitting by a tent with an open book in hand. Nearby stands Panne, standing contentedly with eyes closed and a slight smile. Robin greets her, "Oh, hello, Panne. You're looking very relaxed today--" Panel 2: Same setting as panel 1, only Panne has suddenly landed face-first on the ground with a "FLOP" onomatopoeia. Robin says nothing but looks startled at Panne's sudden movement. Panel 3: A new scenario, Yarne is walking alone with a confident stride. He thinks to himself, "I did pretty well in battle today… Maybe I won't go extinct after all!" Panel 4: Yarne has leaped into the air, legs out, arms outstretched, face beaming with a happy grin. A large "BOING" onomatopoeia appears to signify his jump.

#fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #robin fire emblem #panne fire emblem #yarne fire emblem #taguel #rabbit #rabbit binky

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the-marshals-wife · 1 year

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Keep Me Close (Tech x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

*BELOW THE CUT THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR S2 EP 8: TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES*

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, babes! I'm hitting two mynocks with one stone: writing something short and sweet for my favorite Batcher and processing my emotions over [redacted].

Description: Tech x Fem!Reader Batcher, semi-established relationship (there's an unspoken thing *wink*) | Warnings: none, hurt+comfort fluff | Word count: 804 | Gif credit: user dreamswithghosts

★ Bad Batch Tag List ★ @dantes-devil-huntress @sageislostinspring @sweetheart-bo (comment to be added!)

Imagine being unable to sleep, upset by Echo's departure, and turning to Tech for comfort

The ship was stuffy. Your mind was full. The future was uncertain. It was the perfect mixture of reasons to be restless.

You'd removed the top half of your blacks and tied it around your waist, putting on a tank top in hopes of cooling down. Sitting on the lowered ramp of The Marauder, you stared into the misty night sky, feeling trapped by the stale silence. Your eyes began to sting, emotions starting to overcome you. How could so much have changed so quickly?

The sound of footsteps pulled you from your troubled thoughts, and you didn't have to turn around to know who approached. The rapid tapping of gloved fingers on a datapad was enough for you to recognize him.

"You are unable to sleep," Tech says.

It wasn't a question. He'd just stated it as a fact, as he did with most things.

"Not really," you answer, quickly wiping at your eyes.

"I suspect there is a reason," he begins, sitting down beside you, "Would it ease your mind if you shared your concerns with me?"

Your heart skipped at the prospect, and at how near he was.

"I'll be alright, really," you hesitate, trying to compose yourself.

"The tension in your voice and your constrained body language suggests otherwise," he replies, putting away his datapad.

You can't help but chuckle, "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Not really," he parrots your words. He removes his helmet and puts it aside. You're surprised to see he's smiling ever-so-slightly.

You sigh, trying put your many thoughts into words. "We've all lost so much. After all our fighting and all our running, sometimes I've wondered what it was all for. But I thought as long as we stayed together, things would be alright. We would figure it out because together we had hope. Now, I'm afraid that we've lost it."

Tech pushes up his goggles before responding.

"I know it may seem that way, but Echo did not leave because he had no hope," he offers, "He believes that there are better ways apart from this squad that he can help preserve hope, and if he is successful, pass it on to others."

"I thought we were already doing that," you reply, shaking your head, "I know we have to be careful, especially for Omega's sake, and we can't fight The Empire the same way others can, but I thought we were making some kind of difference."

"Echo's departure does not necessarily signify failure in our pursuits."

"But aren't we stronger together than apart?" you ask, looking to him.

Tech blinks slowly, visibly weighing your question. Surely he is bothered by all this too?

"Theoretically, yes. But our objections cannot change what has happened," he admits.

Your gaze falls back to your boots, shame setting in. How selfish you must sound. "You're right. I don't think less of Echo. Truly I don't," you say, holding your arms, "I just don't want to lose this squad, and I really don't want to lose..."

You were desperate to say it, but the word caught in your throat. Tears threaten to return. This is not how it was supposed to go. Squeezing your eyes shut, you bow your head, hoping he wouldn't see your entire façade crumbling.

You nearly jump as you feel his hand gently clasp your shoulder. You look up to see his soft brown eyes, full of warmth and understanding.

"I do not have plans to go any place where you cannot also be," he affirms, "And I intend to never make such plans."

A tear slips down your cheek as you choke back a sob. Whatever was left of your composure, he'd just destroyed it, and somehow it was the push you needed.

You lean over to rest your head on his chest. You hold your breath as you feel him tense up at the contact. Fear washes over you that you've gone too far, and you're about to sit up, but then he carefully wraps his arm around you, holding you close.

You purse your lips, trying not to grin. How long you had waited for this moment. Heart racing, you close your eyes and wish for time to stop. So many words had passed between you over the months, but now you could barely speak.

"Tech?" you breathe.

"Yes?"

"I never want to make those kinds of plans either," you say, relaxing into him more.

"It's settled then," he confirms, proceeding to rest his chin upon the top of your head.

It was settled. You knew with absolute certainty that this is where you wanted to be. You were stronger together, and no matter what became of the galaxy, together you and Tech would stay.

#tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tech imagine #tech bad batch #tech x you #tbb tech x you #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb season 2 #bad batch imagine #star wars imagine #tech x y/n #my writing

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saylessastrology · 1 year

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APHRODITE

In astrology, asteroid Aphrodite (asteroid 1388 Aphrodite) represents the qualities of love, beauty, sensuality, and attraction. Its placement in the natal houses of a birth chart can provide insights into an individual’s expression of these energies in different areas of life. Here’s a description of asteroid Aphrodite in each of the houses:

1st House: With Aphrodite in the 1st house, the individual exudes natural charm, attractiveness, and grace. They may have a strong sense of personal style and a magnetic presence that draws others to them.

2nd House: Aphrodite in the 2nd house emphasizes the individual’s appreciation for beauty and their desire for material comfort. They may find pleasure in acquiring possessions of aesthetic value and may attract resources through their charm and appeal.

3rd House: Aphrodite in the 3rd house indicates a love for communication, intellectual stimulation, and social connections. The individual’s charm and eloquence can enhance their ability to express their thoughts and form harmonious relationships with siblings and neighbors.

4th House: With Aphrodite in the 4th house, there is an emphasis on creating a beautiful and harmonious home environment. The individual may find emotional fulfillment through domestic activities and may prioritize cultivating a loving and aesthetically pleasing family life.

5th House: Aphrodite in the 5th house signifies a strong desire for romance, creative self-expression, and pleasure. The individual may be naturally charming and playful, enjoying activities such as dating, hobbies, and artistic pursuits.

6th House: In the 6th house, Aphrodite highlights the importance of bringing beauty and harmony into one’s work environment and daily routines. The individual may find joy in serving others and may seek out professions related to beauty, art, or relationships.

7th House: Aphrodite in the 7th house emphasizes the significance of relationships and partnerships in the individual’s life. They may attract romantic partners who embody beauty and charm, and they value harmony, balance, and mutual attraction in their relationships.

8th House: With Aphrodite in the 8th house, there can be a deep intensity and transformative quality to the individual’s intimate relationships and shared resources. They may be drawn to passionate connections and may find empowerment through exploring the depths of their desires.

9th House: Aphrodite in the 9th house suggests a love for travel, higher knowledge, and cultural experiences. The individual may find beauty and inspiration through exploring different cultures and philosophical pursuits, and they may attract relationships with people from diverse backgrounds.

10th House: In the 10th house, Aphrodite highlights the individual’s attractiveness and charm in the public sphere. They may find success in careers related to beauty, art, or public relations, and they may prioritize cultivating harmonious relationships with authority figures.

11th House: Aphrodite in the 11th house emphasizes the importance of friendships, social networks, and group activities in the individual’s life. They may attract friends who embody beauty and creativity, and they find joy in socializing and collaborating with like-minded individuals.

12th House: With Aphrodite in the 12th house, the individual’s expression of love, beauty, and sensuality may be more private or hidden. They may find solace and fulfillment through spiritual or artistic pursuits and may experience a deeper connection to the collective unconscious.

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anthemofgvf · 9 months

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Behind Closed Doors: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

Part Seven

description: when your best friend asks for a favor, that being having his twin move in with you, you're hesitant. you've never really liked him, but you are struggling to meet your rent, so you oblige. who knew with time that you would become more upset with his presence, or upset with the fact you have underlying feelings for him that you don't want to face?

-the masterlist for this series-

trope: enemies to lovers x roommates au!

warnings for this series: alcohol and tobacco usage, explicit content (18+, minors dni), angst, swearing

word count: 6.2k

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As soon as Jake shut the door behind him, you held your breath for a moment. You watched as the lock turned and clicked into place and listened to the mute sounds of his boots trotting off out of the apartment complex. You exhaled heavily, bracing yourself onto the counter with your hands on the edge of it, your back arched away from it, and your head held up to the ceiling. So much had happened in 15 minutes, and you were still trying to comprehend it.

He completely shed himself to you. The vulnerability of his heart and feelings were on full display for you only, and you felt relieved that he had felt the same way you did all along. You beat yourself up a bit for being so selfish towards him, malicious and cruel. But that was in the past now, and he had forgiven you with a kiss to signify his infatuation.

You went through your routine of getting ready for the day: eating, taking a shower, doing your makeup, and dressing up into your work uniform. Your emotions were conflicting; you wanted to smile and be happy about relieving some of the tension between you two. But he was gone now, and you had to wait two months to feel his touch again. To feel his lips crash into yours. To smell his natural musk. To be held in his arms. To simply be intimate with him.

It was an odd feeling that brewed in your stomach, making you feel empty where you should feel full. The equation of you two was solved yet put on pause temporarily. At least you knew it was because you already missed him, and not because you regretted kissing him.

As soon as you got into work, you looked for Stacie. You always made sure she was scheduled when you were (the perks of being a manager), and you were ready to update her on the news.

"Y/n!" She called for you from the back, running to you with open arms and squeezing you tightly.

You had taken some time off work to spend more time with Jake. Thankfully, your job believed your fake excuse of grieving a loss of a family member. It was half true, though; you were grieving the loss of Jake for a period of time while he was here. The inevitable you thought you were prepared for, yet you weren't.

You huffed out a laugh as she bounced with you in her arms, patting her back to let her know you appreciated the affection. She pulled away with a gleaming smile, but it began to fade once she noticed your loss of expression.

"What happened? What did Jake do to you?" She kept her hands on your back and searched for an answer by flicking between both of your eyes.

You sighed, laughing once more to yourself to contain your bitter sadness that wretched at your heart. "Oh, he didn't do anything to me. He just...left. Left for tour."

You gave her a nod, and her lips pursed into a pout.

"Not taking it well?" She cocked her head to the side, as her face softened into sympathy.

You exhaled quickly. With a shake of your head, you said, "not really."

You opened your mouth to speak again with hesitation. Of course, you wanted to tell her, but there was still a lot to process on your end.

"He, um, kissed me before he left. He poured out his feelings onto me in a ramble, and I told him how I felt, blah blah blah. And, then we kissed. I mean, it was passionate, meaningful- not something you'd think would happen when kissing him. I used to think he was so pretentious, vain - all of that self-centered shit. But the way he looked at me, the way he held me and told me how much he cared about me not only with words but with...a kiss. I'm still sitting with all of this, Stace." You said to her.

Her mouth hung agape. She stuttered for a few moments before being able to form a proper sentence. "D-did he just leave? Did this just happen, y/n?"

You nodded vigorously. "Yeah, like an hour or so ago. I didn't realize how us admitting our feelings for each other and then sealing it with a kiss would make him leaving for tour so much worse. I'm still in shock, frankly," you exhaled an airy laugh, "but I guess it just comes to show that you don't realize how much you're going to miss someone until they're gone."

You felt like you were being dramatic. As if you shouldn't have been missing him this much. You were able to call him, text him whenever you wanted to. He was going to return, but the time in between that seemed like it would be longer. Uncertainty of what would happen while he was gone, like if he'd hook up with any girls that came his way. He wasn't tied down to you, but it felt like he was fully committed to you by the way he spoke to you.

"I'm so sorry," she gave you another hug, rubbing your back and pulling away from you to continue her small speech, "I mean, at least he's coming back, right? He's not moving out or anything. It gives you something to look forward to when he comes back, right? You two getting to see each other after so long; it's going to be electric. And, hey, modern technology allows us to talk to those who are far away. Shoot him a text, maybe call him after work. I'm sure he misses your voice."

You nodded to her, running your hands over your hair and smoothing it out as you tied it into a high ponytail. "Yeah, I think I will. I've still got to tell Josh, who I'm sure has already heard from Jake, but I think it'd mean more to him that I told him. He loves gossip."

You both laughed at your words. Josh always loved insights on your love life, and an insight on your regular life itself. He cared about that kind of thing, and always wanted to make sure you were secure.

"Gonna tell him after work?" She asked you, walking away to the front to begin a day of work.

"Think so. Have to see what he's doing. He's working on a film right now, so his schedule has been a bit tight." You nodded to her. "But I might call Jake first. Guess we'll have to see which twin I talk to first, huh?"

"That's a sentence I never thought you would say." She laughed. "It's funny how things change. I remember you being so dead set on hating Jake for the time he lived with you. Now, it seems like you want him to live with you forever."

You pushed her shoulder with a laugh. "I can't believe I was so spiteful to him. I truly just needed to give him a second change and get over myself. Things work out for the best sometimes, huh?"

You remembered the conversation you and Jake had when driving to the party.

"Well, and then one day, when you make enough rockstar money, you'll move out into a huge mansion. Or, a humble home, whatever floats your boat, I suppose."

And you didn't process what he said until now.

"Kind of like having you as my roommate. Maybe I'll just live with you forever until you kick me out."

This was hitting you hard, like a collision head-on. You needed to work and focus on the one thing that would usually ease your mind from what your life was like outside of the coffee house.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When you finished work for the day and arrived at home, you checked your phone to see a text message from Jake.

"Might have already eaten all the brownies. Don't worry, the other guys helped me out. Thank you for making them for me, I appreciate it. Hope work was okay, X."

You smiled at your phone, tugging at your bottom lip and feeling grateful for his text. Before you began to type, you looked down the hall from the kitchen where you stood and decided to go into his room. Sure, you had been in there before, but only when he had occupied it.

You shoved your phone into your pocket and saw the floors clear of his guitars. His closet was open, and half empty from his clothes. A lot of the jewelry he brought was gone, along with a multitude of shoes. It didn't feel like he lived here with you anymore, because his personality seemingly left the room.

You reached for your phone as you sat on his bed and texted him back.

"Glad you and the boys enjoyed the brownies. Work was good, but my mind was kind of everywhere. Call me when you can! I'd like to hear about tour life so far, although it's barely been a day." You responded back and shut off your phone. You looked around Jake's room once more, as it was making you depressed staying in the room that was too quiet for your liking and left to your bedroom.

You washed yourself free of the coffee house, changing into clothes suitable enough to wear outside in the bitter cold, as you planned to see Josh today. You had texted him earlier while you were on break to ask if he was free later tonight but had yet to receive a response. He wasn't a great texter, so whether he was busy or not, you were sure he'd just call instead to respond.

Silence used to soothe you. You used to adore a quiet apartment; a calm environment free of distractions. But when Jake had moved in, that original opinion was flipped around. You missed the faint sound of him playing guitar in his bedroom, humming to himself and pausing his playing to probably write a lyric down. The sounds of him shuffling around in his room. His footsteps that creeped to your room and would knock on your door to come bother you. Of course, you enjoyed his company now, but you wished you hadn't been so defensive of your space for as long as you were. So much missed time that you rid because of your hatred of him and trying to make up that time within a few weeks. It wasn't enough time, and you were just hoping that time would forgive you and allow you to be more comfortable with his absence.

Eventually, Josh called you and told you he would stop by to keep you some company later that night. You were grateful that the apartment wouldn't be so quiet anymore, and he was going to bring his big personality over to cheer you up. You hadn't told him what happened, nor did he tell you that he knew of anything, so whatever tonight would bring was a mystery to you.

To kill time, you cleaned your entire apartment. Wiping off the counters and cabinets, cleaning the bathrooms, dusting everywhere that you believed needed to be. You made the decision of playing Jake's EP while you cleaned, which helped you daydream that he was still there with you. You even let yourself close your eyes and imagine him playing in front of you, singing to you in a serenade manner.

You even reminisced on a memory that you two held while he was still here. You both were at your apartment in his room, sitting on his bed, and it did involve his guitar. He was playing you the song you heard him sing when you first saw him perform, which was "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton. Thinking on that fond memory now made you realize that the song had meaning. He was singing it for you, and the song was a translation of his feelings. God were you oblivious sometimes.

You clapped and howled after he finished the last chord, watching as his face became a hue of pink and wearing a bashful smile.

"Encore, encore!" You beamed.

"I'm a bit played out, sunshine." He said as he set his guitar down onto the bed behind the two of you.

You rolled your eyes. "Will you ever give that nickname a rest? It's corny, Jacob."

He bit back a smile. "Will you ever stop calling me Jacob?"

You raised your brows. Your lips downturned into a smile, sucking your cheek and shaking your head. "If you stop calling me sunshine, I'll stop using your government name. How's that?"

He nodded, holding his hand out. "That's a deal, y/n."

You grasped his hand with a giggle, shaking it and holding your hand in his for a moment. It was coarse, with his calloused fingertips caressing the back of your hand. How could rough hands feel so soft and welcoming?

You pulled your hand from his, setting it on your lap and looking to him. "You know, for someone who says they don't rehearse often, you sure like to play your guitar a lot."

"There's a difference between rehearsing and just playing to make sure you're keeping your skills up to date. Do you expect me not to play?" He said with a hint of a smile.

"Was just a bit confused, that's all." You shrugged. "How come you don't have a show here in Nash? I assumed you'd book a venue here for tour."

"We want to do a show here separately from tour. Like, a more intimate setting, you know? It's going to be far out from the tour, so fans can come see me if they please."

"Fans are traveling all around the world for you, huh? Got some groupies, Jake?"

He chuckled at your words. "I'm-no, no y/n," he continued his laughter, "I'm not the type to do that kind of stuff anymore. You grow out of it, I guess? I'm not a hormonal teenager anymore, believe it or not. Don't think that aspect of a rockstar life is for me. Sure, flirting is fun, but it's mainly harmless." He gave you a shrug.

"Does that mean if I become a fan, you'll flirt with me more than you used to?"

"Who knows. Guess you're just going to have to find out, huh?"

You took in a breath, pressing your lips together to contain a smile and giving him a nod. You felt your cheeks burn, running to your ears and creating a fire on the entirety of your face.

"I think I'm going to head to bed before you start something you can't finish." You pointed at him, standing up and walking to the door.

You turned to him and noticed his eyes lingering on you. You considered that he was watching you walk away. Maybe his eyes trailed to your ass in your tight sweatpants, but all you did was tell him "Goodnight" and put that thought at ease.

What shot you out of your daydream was your phone vibrating on the counter, and you turned swiftly to the device and picked it up.

"You on your way, Josh?" You said into the phone.

"Actually, I am here, y/n. Decided to drop by a bit early since we wrapped up on set faster than I expected. Mind letting me in?"

"Yeah, see you in a second." You said and hung up the phone.

You walked out of your apartment and opened the door to the complex for him, rushing him inside as you bounced up and down from the biting wind that nipped at your covered legs and face. He was sure to be quick inside, and you had a full body shiver as you closed the door.

He took off his coat and gestured it to you, but you pushed it away with a smile as you felt yourself warming up.

"Good to see you." He smiled at you, placing his hand on your back and rubbing it gently. "How's the day been treating you?"

"Did you hear from Jake?" You said to him.

You opened your door and let him walk in first, and he began to kick off his shoes and place his coat on the rack that sat by your door.

His lips were pressed together, and he gave you a shake of his head. "No, why? What happened?"

"Seriously? Does your brother tell you nothing these days?" You followed him into your living room and plopped onto the couch.

He sat down next to you, throwing one arm over the back of the couch and waiting for you to speak.

You sighed and tried to think of where to begin. "Well, I guess the major event of the day was that he admitted his feelings for me, and we kissed."

Josh's eyes lit up, and with a sharp gasp, he leaned in towards you with excitement. He blinked a few times in astonishment. For a moment, he couldn't formulate words. Usually, he was never speechless, but guess it could be because nothing has shocked him this much.

"I can't believe that fucker didn't tell me! Holy shit! How do you feel?" His words tumbled out of his mouth quickly.

You laughed at him. Composing yourself, you continued.

You told him about your excitement about it all, and the relief you felt. Then, you gave him the backstory of the lead up to the kiss, and he listened intently.

"You make him nervous? You're a special woman, y/n. Rarely does he ever get nervous. He's always been a confident guy. I knew he had feelings for you, but he never really dug into the root of it."

"You knew he had feelings for me, and you didn't tell me?" You yelled with a smile, swatting his arm and looking at him with a playful, stern glare.

"Y/n, I told you the moment you called me about him moving in. I told you he's always had feelings for you, and you said that all he wanted from you was one thing. You refused to believe me, so I let it take its course. Besides, it's not my place to get involved." He explained to you.

And he was right. He did in fact tell you that Jake had feelings for you before moved in and you were finalized on your decision. And he even predicted you turning your feelings around for him.

"He likes you, y'know."

"Well, I predict that your mind will change with time. Perhaps, you know, him moving in with you and the both of you creating a bond... It's a perfect story line, in my opinion."

"I am so fucking oblivious sometimes," you slapped your hand against your head, "but I guess I should thank you for not getting too involved. We worked things out on our own."

He nodded with a hum. "Well, have you talked to him? How are you taking the whole tour and him being gone?"

"We texted earlier, and I asked him to call me when he could. I assume he's busy, so I don't expect a call anytime soon. But I do miss him a lot. I guess the whole thing that happened today really just fucked with my head, in a good way, of course. I'm glad he didn't wait, because then I would've been left with overthinking about everything that has happened between us, you know?"

"I'm guessing you're not enjoying the quiet apartment, huh? Noticed you have Jake's EP on your record player." He nodded towards the open case, then flashing his eyes at the sleeve that laid on the coffee table in front of you two. "It's hard to be away from someone that you've grown so fond over, huh?"

"Yeah," you breathed, "I sort of feel like I miss him too much."

"I think your feelings are absolutely valid, y/n. I mean, he rambled a whole uncomposed monologue to you about how he felt, then left you with a kiss. That's kind of hard to just breeze through and not give much thought." He reached his hand to your shoulder and gave it a rub.

You nodded at him. You were unsure of what to say to him, so you averted your gaze and allowed that familiar silence to roam the air and consume the atmosphere. Only for this moment did you enjoy the silence, because it gave you a second to remember how Jake's lips felt on yours, and how he held you.

"Already feeling a bit lonely, huh?" Josh said to you.

You looked to him. "Is that bad?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, of course not. Do you want some company for the night? I know I'm not Jake, but we kind of resemble each other."

You gave him an affectionate smile as you huffed a soft laugh at him. "I would really appreciate that. You sure, though? Don't you have a lot of work to do?"

"I don't go on set until later in the day. Tomorrow is another night shoot, so I've got the day to kill. Let's just watch some movies until we pass out, yeah?" He asked.

"That sounds really fucking nice. I'll make some popcorn, and let you pick out the movies, Mr. Director." You poked at him.

"I have a few good movies in mind that I'm sure you haven't seen." He pointed at you with a wiggle of his brow, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning the TV on.

You stood up and walked into the pantry, finding a few packets of popcorn and grabbing a bowl from your cabinet. You set one of the packets into the microwave and let the kernels pop.

"Does this mean I'm going to be getting a personal commentary the whole time?" You said as you walked into the living room.

"Would this be a movie night with me if I didn't talk over the movie at least once?" He turned to you with a smirk.

You sat onto the couch and gave him a shrug. "I always assumed you would be absolutely mute during movies."

"Only certain ones. But some of the movies I have picked out for tonight need a bit of explanation of some kind. They twist at your mind." He pointed to his temple and tapped at it and began the first movie.

While the movie played, you made a few runs to the kitchen to finish popping the rest of the popcorn for you two and finally bringing a large bowl full of the buttery snack for you both to enjoy. You had it set on your lap and curled up next to Josh, as there wasn't any issue with physical contact between you two. Neither of you saw each other in a non-platonic light, as it's always been a great friendship where both of you were comfortable being close to each other. You were thankful to have a friend like Josh, and to know someone so caring.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As the next movie played, Josh decided to be a bit quieter this time round and allow you to enjoy the movie. While it played, your phone rang in your pocket of your sweatpants, and you dug it out to see who was calling you. Of course, like you expected, it was Jake.

"Do you want me to pause the movie?" Josh asked you.

"No, keep watching it. I'll be back." You said, setting the near empty bowl of popcorn onto his lap and answering the call as you trotted off into your bedroom.

"Hi, Jake." You said to him as you closed your door behind you.

"Did you miss me?" He asked you.

"Back to your cocky self, huh?" You giggled with an eyeroll. You folded one arm over your body as you walked around your room.

"Was just making sure that you weren't too comfortable with my absence. In case you wanted to know, I miss you already."

You tugged at your lip. "I guess I miss you a little." You said playfully.

"Just a little? Didn't get that impression when you texted me to call you when I could."

You giggled. There was that old Jake, the one that you knew to be so confident in himself. It was good to know he was back to his old ways, but not in an annoyingly arrogant way. His nerves were soothed now that he knew you had feelings for him, too.

"Alright, so I miss you a good amount. Is that what you want to hear?"

There was a pause, but only for a moment. You heard him exhaled a staggered breath.

"Yeah, I do. Good to know you miss me, too."

There was a beat before he began to talk again.

"So, how's it going? Not getting too lonely, right?"

"Josh is over right now. We're watching a few movies, and he plans on staying over for the night." You sat yourself on the edge of your bed, throwing your legs onto the mattress and lying flat on your back.

"I'm glad he's keeping you company." He said to you.

"Did you guys get to the first stop yet?" You asked him.

"Yup. We made it to Indianapolis pretty late, so we're all in our hotel rooms right now. Kind of glad I don't have to sleep on the tour bus when we're not driving."

"Is the first show tomorrow? Are you excited?"

"Yeah, I am. It's kind of bizarre that there are people coming to see me perform, instead of seeing an opening act along with me. It feels good, like a confidence boost."

"As if you needed one." You huffed a laugh, to which he matched.

"It still feels nice!" He laughed. "But I do wish you were here with me. Sucks you have to work. Hopefully eventually you'll be able to come tour with me."

"I think I'd have to take a leave of absence to be able to do that, but hey, it's doable. Thinking about it now, it sounds fun. I'd get to travel for free while supporting you. It's a win-win." You said.

"You're just now thinking about me?"

"I've been thinking about you all day, Jake." You rolled your eyes with a smile. "You must really like hearing me talk about how much I miss you."

"Because I do. I wish you were here with me right now."

Your heart banged against your chest. The flirting that you had barely had time for when he was here was occurring now, and although you couldn't see his face, his voice was right into your ear. You squeezed and rubbed your legs tightly together, due to when he spoke, it was lustful. Frankly, both you and him knew that if he didn't have to leave, you two wouldn't have stopped kissing each other.

He continued. "You know that if I had more time with you before I left, or maybe just fessed up sooner, I would've made sure to savor our time together in a more intimate way." He spoke slowly.

"How so, Jake?" You said, pressing your thighs tightly together again to relieve some friction that you needed. You knew what he was insinuating, and you hoped he would continue.

"Fuck," he breathed, "are you sure I'm not taking time away from you? I know Josh is over."

"No, it's fine. I told him everything, so he's well aware that I'm going to be on the phone for a bit." You reassured him. You weren't going to end this phone call high and dry.

"Okay," he said, "well, for one, I want you to use your hands as a replacement of my own as I tell you what I want to do to you. What I am going to do to you the moment I see you again. Now, close your eyes for me, pretty girl."

You put your phone in the crook of your neck, leaning your phone into your ear and laying your hands on your stomach. You shut your eyes and imagined him there in front of you, as you figured that is why he asked you to do so. "Keep talking, Jake."

"I'd want to touch you everywhere, y/n. Not miss a spot on your body. Praise you, make you feel good. I'd trail my hand from the side of your face to your neck, dragging it down to your tits."

You followed his motions, using one hand to caress the side of your face, and drag it down to the cave of your breasts. You brought your other hand under your shirt, slowly creeping it up as he continued to speak.

"And of course, my mouth would explore your body, but" he chuckled, "for now, hands will do. I'd squeeze at your nipples and massage your tits."

You did as he said, exhaling a quiet sigh as you rolled your left nipple in your pointer and thumb, and massaging your other breast. You heard his choked breaths, assuming he was stroking himself, which turned you on more. You were saddened you couldn't see the sight unfold in front of you, but hearing every sound he uttered made up for it.

A long sigh was breathed into the phone on his end, which made you bite back a moan that bubbled in your throat.

"I'd then take your pants off." He said, and you quickly tugged them off and left them at your ankles with your underwear. You spit on your fingers in anticipation. "And I would be buried in between your thighs, licking at your clit."

You circled at the area, moaning into the phone quietly as a sign you were doing as he said. He groaned harshly, letting a few swears pass through his lips.

"Touching yourself like a good girl?" He asked you, even though he knew the answer.

"Yes, fuck." You whined into the phone. "Please, keep talking, Jake."

"God, I love talking you through this," he groaned, "just know I'm going to do all of this to you when I get home. Worship your fucking body, touch and kiss you everywhere I can. Make you feel so...fucking good, y/n."

You tugged at your lip, nervous that your moans would grow loud for Josh to hear. But you kept them quiet enough to be heard into the phone, and not echo onto the walls of your bedroom.

"While my tongue is on your pussy, I'd finger you slowly. Want this to last." He said to you. "Only one finger, though, babe. I'll tell you when you can add another, okay?"

You kept your fingers on your clit and managed to move your other hand around your other, sliding in one finger and curling it upon entrance. Your mouth opened as you felt your finger hit your sweet spot inside of your walls, and feel it effortlessly slide in and out of you. A high-pitched sigh escaped your lips, to which Jake groaned at.

"Keep making those pretty noises for me, y/n. And keep fingering yourself like the good girl you are."

You continued the motions, keeping true to his word and moving your finger slowly inside of you. You lazily circled your clit, as you didn't want to drive yourself to your orgasm just yet. Moans of ecstasy roamed into the phone, and they only continued to fumble out of your mouth when you heard him. If you listened closely, you could hear his hand sliding on his length at a steady pace and that had you wanting to throw your head back into the pillow.

"Go ahead and add a second finger for me and speed up your movements. You're doing so good for me, y/n."

You did as he demanded, and you bit down at your bottom lip with a whine.

"Fuck, Jake," you whimpered, "feels so fucking good."

"God, I wish I could see you right now," he sighed, "I'm sure you look so pretty touching yourself."

You let out a light giggle, grinding your hips into the motion of your fingers and leaving your mouth dropped open.

"I don't know how long I'm going to last like this, y/n. Go faster babe, I want you to cum with me."

Your eyes were squeezed shut as you let your fingers pump in and out of you and a merciless pace. Your movement on your clit had faltered, because you were so focused on your fingers hitting the one spot inside of you that was the key to your orgasm, and you began to feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

"Are you close, Jake? I'm so, so close." You whined breathlessly, making sure to keep your voice low for only his ears to hear.

"God, yes. I'm gonna cum, y/n. Keep talking to me. I love the sound of your fucking voice." He said, and it sounded like he said it with gritted teeth.

You were quick on your feet with what you would say to him. "Wanna feel you inside of me, Jake. I've waited so long for it and God do I want it badly." You moaned.

"So perfect for me, aren't you?" He said with a rushed tone. "Fuck, I'm cumming. Come on, y/n, cum with me." He said harshly.

You focused on your fingers and the sound of his choked breath as his release spewed out, and you felt your own overtake your body. A full body shiver entrapped you on your bed, with your back arching and your thighs trembling around your fingers. You held back a loud whine, closing your mouth and humming it behind your lips.

You caught your breath as you heard him catch his own, removing your fingers from yourself, putting your sweatpants and underwear back on, and getting up to clean off your hand and yourself. Your knees were slightly weak, so you were steady walking into your bathroom.

"Fuck, you okay?" He said breathlessly to you.

You closed the bathroom door and put him on speaker phone as you washed your hands. "Yeah, yeah I am. Don't think I've ever had phone sex before."

He huffed a laugh. "Glad I could be your first."

You smiled at your phone, cleaning yourself off and putting him back to your ear as you turned off the speaker button.

"I do miss you, you know. After all of this, I'd just want to be in bed next to you."

You rubbed your lips together and let another smile invade your lips. "I want that, too. Only two more months left." You said with a huff.

"It sounds longer than you think. I'm sure it'll fly by, and I'll be back before you know it."

"I sure hope so. It's barely been a day and I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel a week from now, let alone a month. But I'll get over myself. As long as you keep me updated and talk to me every now and then."

"I'll try talking to you as much as I can, y/n. Don't worry. But I should let you get back to your time with Josh, and I should catch some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

You began walking to your door and let your hand rest on the handle. "Okay, sleep well. Goodnight, Jake."

"Goodnight, y/n." He said to you and hung up the phone.

You walked out slowly, and looked to see if Josh was awake. The bowl of popcorn was on the table, and his head was rolled back on the couch with his eyes closed. You laughed to yourself and grabbed a throw blanket from the side of the couch that you had abandoned throughout the movie night. You tucked yourself in next to him, throwing the cloth over you two, and resting your eyes.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

It had been almost two weeks since that day. You and Jake talked nearly every day, either before one of his shows, or while he was on the road. If you two weren't texting, he was calling you. You both even indulged in Facetiming each other, and it was nice to see his face after a while. You two had your fair share of phone sex once or twice, but neither of you wanted to make that a main priority. You both wanted to make sure that what you had wasn't about lust, but heartfelt feelings and pure romance.

It helped that you talked to him a lot, and although you still missed him, it helped to hear his voice and see his face. He showed you some pictures from the places he traveled, different sights that he had been to and some photos of the venues he got to perform in. Sure, they were small, but he told you they were nearly packed every night. You believed him and were also beyond proud of his accomplishments.

Now, all you had left to do was wait for his return. Sure, that's what you've been doing, but after two days, it really set in that you'd have to wait longer to see him in person again. You figured long distance would be hard, but thankfully, it wasn't too difficult. You were just thankful that he was returning home to you, and not to anyone else.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

-part eight-

series taglist: @jakekiszkasmommy @anythingforjtk @gold-mines-melting @twistedmelodies @ageofhearingloss @classicsneverdie @lmaooharry @raviolilegs @mydarlingdanny @iheartjakekiszka @edtvdf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @gvf23 @flo-gvf @madneedshelp @carlyfleet @pinkunicornsandbluecows @joshysgirl @jasminesworldd @alwaysonthemend @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @takenbythemadness @jaketlove @starcatcher-jake @hi-hi-hello11 @amygvf13 @alyson814 @char289 @becinabubblegvf @worldsgayestbonenerd @intoth3ether @m0uthfl13s @klarxtr

other tags: @songbirds-sweet @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @fallonfatality @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @lexii-nv-c @joopsworld @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @loverleaverslayerbeliever @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @haileygvf @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @beckahvanfleet @threadthatssacred @indigofallingsky @audgeppp @sinarainbows @brujamagik @bowievanfleet @sam-i-am-20 @laneygvf @psychedelicsprinkles @malany-gvf @idontlikelizards @josh-iamyour-mama @julihurrr @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jaketswine @jjwasneverhere @interstellar-shores

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talonabraxas · 1 month

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Divine Lotus Flower and its Splendid Healing Power

Buddhusim as the major admirer of Lotus

It’s part of the Buddhist belief system that all people have the potential to achieve enlightenment, and it’s only a matter of time before each human being starts looking for and finds the absolute truth. Buddhists believe it is necessary to undergo reincarnations to refine one’s being until one reaches nirvana, the highest degree of awareness for a human being to achieve.

For this reason, we find countless depictions of Buddha sitting on a lotus flower or his seat has carvings of lotus petals. Like the lotus flower, which begins to grow in the muddy, polluted water and blossoms into a perfect flower, these depictions stand for an enlightened being who has overcome the suffering that pervades the material world. It’s also not uncommon to find many Hindu gods depicted sitting or standing on the lotus flower.

Lotus as the birth origin of Buddha

The largest part of Budha’s teachings originates in the Lotus Sutra (Lotus of the True Dharma), where the sacred lotus flower signifies the essence of Buddhism. Buddhists also hold the belief that the Buddha was born over a lotus leaf.

Spiritual enlightenment in Buddhism through the lotus

Buddhism has a belief that this pure flower brings a smile to the face of anyone who sees it.

Buddhism teaches that, like the lotus flower, we must be a source of happiness and delight for others and make their lives meaningful and beautiful, no matter what difficulties or adverse circumstances surround us.

In addition, in Buddhism, the color of each flower has a different meaning. For example, the white lotus is also a part of the Four Noble Truths and represents mental righteousness and perfection from inside: spiritual.

Can you relate the eightfold path from Budha’s teachings to the eight pearls of white lotus? You should because Budha’s birth spot also has a connection with the eightfold path.

Just as the rose has significance for love and emotional refinement, the red lotus represents a pure heart. Its nature is encoded in the characters for compassion, ardor, and love.

The blue lotus is a sign of triumph; it connotes a win over the senses. It also stands for truth and wisdom. The magnificent pink lotus is itself a representation of the Buddha and his teachings.

Lotus as the seat of gods

The lotus, a sacred icon of Hinduism and Indian culture, is found in many descriptions in almost all Hindu sacred scriptures. The universe’s chief creator, Lord Brahma, and another lord, Vishnu, the preserver, are each depicted as sitting or floating on a lotus.

Divine Lotus by Talon Abraxas

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f1nalboys · 1 year

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Bedside Prayers - Lester Sinclair

Lester Sinclair x Fem!Reader

enjoy this dark little fic! icky yucky lester <3 check out the bo fic that follows the same overall premise hehe

WORD COUNT: 2079

WARNINGS: dark fic. heed the warnings fr <3 she/her pronouns used once, lester calls reader his girl, angst, whump fic basically, canon typical violence, dark!lester, emotional abuse, physical abuse, stockholm syndrome, reader wants to die and shocker that doesn't happen, threats of throat slitting, descriptions of previous wounds and violence from lester, reader is compared to prey, mentions of previous victims, mentions of the wax figures and bo's treatment of past victims, kidnapping, violence, no happy ending, dub-con at the end just to be safe though nothing happens? idk, proofread but im a little guy so i could've missed something.

The candles were almost out. You watched them from the corner of your eye, watching the slow drip of wax roll down the side, dropping onto the metal dish underneath it. In another world, on another day, with another person, this could be romantic. A cabin tucked away in the woods of Louisiana, a home cooked meal followed by drinks by the fire, slow and tender kisses, gentle and nervous touches. It was romantic, you had felt that stir of butterflies in your gut when he had held his glass of whiskey out to your lips and watched you swallow it, purring out about how good you had done, but it shouldn’t be.

Another ten minutes before the candle would melt, the nail that had been pushed into it falling, signifying your end. You were hoping, praying, you could distract him long enough to allow it to happen. You remembered your first night here, wrists and ankles bound to the creaky bed frame, the handmade quilt scratchy on your bruised and scratched flesh. “This,” Lester had said, looking over at you with a sick grin, the cut on his lip you had given him splitting open once more. “Is to tell me when it’s time for you to die. I don’t blow this candle out in time and it falls, I’ll slit your fucking throat right then and there. I’d treat me kindly if I were you.”

He had sat with you, staring at the candle as it burnt, only blowing it out when the nail had begun to dip and you had begun to cry, tugging at your restraints, begging for him not to kill you. He sat forwards, blowing out the flame and plucking the nail out before digging it into your skin, cutting and cauterizing the wound in the same second. “One day, sweetheart,” He said over the sound of your screaming. “You’ll wish you hadn’t begged to stay alive.”

Lester made good on the promise the first few weeks. He wasn’t mean, not as mean as he could’ve been, but he wasn’t nice. Each time he hurt you, he made sure to tell you that had he left you in that town with his brother you would’ve been fucked and killed, turned into one of those statues. “Dontcha get it? Being here, this is the best place for you. For you to be safe. You just gotta be good for me.” His words often directly opposed his actions and at times it was hard for your mind to understand.

How could he tell you that you were safe with him when he was the one hurting you? How could he tell you he loved you when his knife was sinking into your flesh, carving out his name, carving your will out of you, one thin piece of flesh at a time? How could he hurt you until you thought that he had pierced your lung with your rib and still whisper praise about how well you had taken his punishment in that voice of his and still get a weakened smile and those fucking butterflies?

Maybe he did love you, and maybe you really were safe here hidden away with him, but it had gotten to the point where you decided that safety and love weren’t worth it, not if it felt like this.

Nine more minutes.

“When do you think you’re gonna go into town again?” You ask, eyes moving away from the candle towards Lester, fingers tapping on your thigh to count the passing seconds to your possible escape. He stops whistling, turning around to look at you with a toothy smile. He was digging through his dresser drawer and you try to swallow back the annoyance at him messing up your hour and a half of work.

“Not sure, sweetheart,” He says, pulling out a pair of socks and closing the dresser drawer with his hip. “Why? You needin’ something?” He sits on the edge of the bed slipping the fabric onto his feet. It was getting colder, nearing winter, and you realize you’ve been here almost six months now and you suddenly feel sick.

It feels like just yesterday you had gotten into that truck with him, thanking him for being so kind to take you to the town your friends hadn’t come back from. He had given you a sly smile, a knowing one, and told you that it was his pleasure.

You shrug. “No, not really. Just wondering.”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me?”

“No, Lester, of course not.”

“Good,” He says, feet planting onto the ground but his wiry body twisting to face you. “Because I’d hate if you were. Haven’t had to use those ties in a long time, right?” He says it with a small laugh, as if he’s recalling something funny from your past together and not the reason for the scars covering your wrists and ankles. You force a smile, knowing that frowning or, god forbid, voicing your dislike would result in a punishment.

He hadn’t had to punish you in a few months and reminded you of that fact every chance he got. When his lips were on your neck, he’d let his tongue swipe over the thin scar that dragged from the base of your neck down to your shoulder, so gentle unlike the sharpness of the blade he had used to make it. Sometimes, late at night when he couldn’t sleep, he’d drag his fingers down your bare skin and point out each little nick he had given you, recalling what you had done to deserve it.

Dropping and breaking his coffee cup resulted in the scar on the palm of your hand he had created with the shards. Scratching at him in the car when he tried to kiss you for the first time resulted in the cut by your lip where he had headbutted you. Trying to find a way to leave the first night he hadn’t tied you to the bed resulted in the thick straight scar on your side from his knife.

The ones he left on your heart, your soul, your will to live and to fight were always left ignored, buried underneath his praise and covered in cobwebs, only bothered on those late nights you were able to really think about them.

Seven minutes. “Don’t want that,” You finally say and he chuckles, standing up and walking into the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. Sparing a glance at the candle, fingers twitching with anxiety, you try to keep the conversation going. “What kind of shampoo did you get me last time?”

“Uhm, let me check…” Silence for a second and then he’s saying the brand and you nod as if you cared. “I like that one. I’m almost out, so I think I might need more of that. Do you think they have a matching conditioner?”

You can hear him flush the toilet and then the tap running before he answers. “Not sure, sugar. I’ll keep an eye out for it, maybe ask Bo if he’s got any lyin’ around. You know, you sure are chatty tonight.” You freeze. It’s true; normally you abided by the rule of only speaking when spoken too, always afraid of saying the wrong thing to him. “I like it. Glad you’re finally settlin’ in, sugar.”

He’s brushing his teeth now and there’s still three more minutes and it only takes him a minute and a half to brush his teeth, another half a minute to get into bed and twenty three seconds to blow out the flame and pluck out the nail out the candle and your coffin. You try to wrack your brain for something, anything, that could distract him for just a little bit longer, the sink running, taking any plausible idea down the drain with the murky water.

“I think I love you.” It tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it and you try to ignore the small sliver of truth in it, instead focusing on your fingers tapping into your leg, trying not to speed up or slow down, the seconds feeling like they were purposely digging their nails into the ground to hold on just a little bit longer. Lester stands in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth dropped open and eyebrows halfway hidden by his hair. If your heart wasn’t hammering out of your chest, you might have laughed.

He says nothing, just walks towards you and crawls into bed, swinging his leg over yours, trapping you under him. Lester’s hands are on the headboard beside your head, planted firm, and his eyes are wild and crazy. They remind you of what he looked like after a good hunt, when he’d come home with a wild animal strapped to a rope, thrown over his shoulder. You were the prey and he had caught you.

“Yeah? You’re in love with me, sugar?” He asks lowly and the room is getting dimmer and dimmer as the flame gets lower. You nod your head. Only thirty seconds left before your release. He grins wildly, leaning down and kissing you, tongue slipping into your mouth. He tastes like toothpaste and dip, a combination you have gotten used to these last few months, had even begun to crave in your time apart in some sort of sick need for the connection.

You kiss back. His right hand leaves the headboard and rests onto your neck and there it is. Clink. The two of you pull apart and look over to the side table, the candle wick low enough to almost be engulfed by the wax. The nail had fallen. Lester huffs, letting go of your neck and moving off of the bed. “Damn thing,” He mutters, blowing the candle out. “Now, let’s get back to it.”

“But… the nail fell out.”

“Yeah, it did. So?”

“I thought… when it fell out you would…” Even in the darkness, you can see his face shift, understanding. Your heart is hammering out of your chest when he nods. He’s silent. You watch as he walks over to the dresser where his Bowie knife laid in its sheath and he pulls it out and your heart is soaring and you smile, really smile, for the first time since you’ve been here.

You can see him hold the knife in his hands, slowly turning it as if it were new, as if he hadn’t seen it, as if he hadn’t used it, as if he hadn’t killed with it. Lester turns around, holds the knife in his right hand at his waist, and walks over, eyes staring daggers into your own. You wait. You wait as he crawls into the bed, taking the position he had just been in, leg thrown over yours and free hand on the headboard.

He raises the knife, placing the serrated blade against your throat, gently. Teasingly. “Thought that I’d slit your pretty little throat, right?” He asks, voice low, breathy. You stare him in the eyes. You wonder how many other people had been in this position before you, wonder how many lives had been cut short with this very knife in this very bed by this very man.

The thought of it used to make you sick, would send panic ripping through your gut. Now all it did was bring you a sick sense of peace knowing you would join them. You nod.

Lester grins, digging the blade in just a little harder and you swallow, the nick of the knife sending a sharp pain through your neck. “That was the plan,” He hums and you close your eyes, waiting for the blade to dig in deeper, for him to pull the knife across the thin flesh of your neck and cut you open. It doesn’t come. “Good thing you’re in love with me.”

“What?” Your eyes pop open as the knife is removed, tossed away somewhere behind him, the dull thud of it hitting the hardwood floor making you jump.

“You didn’t really think I was ever gonna kill you, did you, sugar?” He tsks, shaking his head, knife-free hand dragging a finger down your cheek. It hurts just the same as if he had cut you. “Can’t kill the girl I love now that she loves me, now can I?” When he kisses you, you kiss back.

It’s the closest thing to death you can get to now.

#f1nalboys works #f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher x you #lester sinclair x y/n #slasher x y/n #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #how 2005

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