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#there's a lot of emotional whiplash in this idea
matrixbearer2024 · 1 month
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Hey I have an idea for "Get Off My Screen" what if Y/N starts talking to Vox less and less and he is so confused so he goes through her phone to try and figure it out and sees her Instagram announcing a new bf and Vox is soooo jealous but she basically ignores his protests and so life goes on as normal for them both until one day he gets nosy and checks her texts on her phone with her bf and finds nudes from her and then he gets annoyed and lectures her about it which leads to her getting angry and ignoring him but then a few weeks later he checks Y/N and the bf's chats again and sees him threatening her
On a completely unrelated note I luv this series and also definitely need a Vox of my own in my phone cause I can't write or spell for shit lol
You Could Do Better(With Me)
Protective!Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
WARNINGS: Mentions of Alcohol, Nudes, Blackmail, Manipulation
A/N: Okay this was actually pretty angsty, more on Vox's side because he's just dealing with a lot of emotional whiplash- most of which he doesn't really deal with well but he powers through it to be there for you. At this point in time he's kind of certain he likes you, but not that he loves you. Kind of like the: "Oh I'm really fond of this person, I want to make sure they're safe and happy." Without realizing the romantic implications nor how deep the level of attachment really is. So far, Reader's only kind of had a puppy-love crush on Vox but has blatantly disregarded it because well- Vox is fucking dead so what the hell are you supposed to do?? That and Vox constantly gets on Reader's nerves with his shenanigans so even if she gets the Cupid valentines filter when he cranks up the charisma- his stupid hijinks quickly do away with it and make him seem idiotic(cutely) again. The story also has a lot of emotional stuff so if you'd rather stick to the comedy feel free to skip this interlude and the one directly after it.
A/N: Either way, that's currently the pace these two are at- and this is a songfic! If you want to listen to the tune while reading- here it is! "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. The story itself is slightly different from the prompt since I made it centered around how Vox perceived things were going. As always, I hope y'all have fun and enjoy! Happy Reading!
youtube
Vox wanted to pretend everything was okay.
Walking through the halls of the Vee tower, he really wanted to play it off like nothing was bothering him.
And still, he found himself checking his phone for any updates or messages from you.
Day by day you were starting to slowly disappear from his routine.
He didn't notice it at first, how you were pulling away-
It was just the little things initially.
One word replies, emoji spam-
Vox figured you just weren't in the mood to listen or talk.
Did he do something that hurt you?
Up until the point that you both didn't really have any meaningful conversations anymore.
Which, as much as he tried to start anything proper-
It would always fall flat.
Were you still even trying?
He woke up one morning and followed his routine, shooting you a greeting before he started the day.
It just so happened that once he was finally able to check his phone to shoot you a wish goodnight-
You hadn't even replied to his morning message.
He was busy throughout the day, so he wasn't given the opportunity to worry about you.
But now, worry he did.
Vox quickly made his way towards his monitor room despite how late it was.
He went through your files, your pictures-
Wait.
Wait a goddamn minute.
Who the fuck was that?
He glitched slightly when he saw how that guy grinned in the picture.
It reminded him of his own, just so fucking fake.
Not to mention the air the person had around them.
They just exuded a great sense of showmanship and arrogance.
One Vox was all too familiar with.
That wasn't even the first picture you had with that person recently.
And the more the overlord looked, the more worked up he got.
He wasn't sure if it was anger, envy, irritation, or just a mix of everything under the sun.
Holding your waist, hugging you close, in some pictures your faces were so close together that you were almost kissing.
He was glitching in his chair from the emotional overload.
Who did this guy think he was to be able to treat you like that?!
Vox definitely punched a few screens from fury and jealousy.
Come the next day when he confronted you about it-
More like became a clear pain in the ass that you really couldn't ignore-
Making your computer practically unusable even-
Was when you revealed to him that you didn't mean to hide something like this.
You just simply forgot to say anything.
Vox didn't know if that was worse than if you tried to deceive him.
"Geez, so you have a boyfriend now?"
"Oh come on, you act like I'm not allowed to date. I'm a responsible adult Vox, not a kid."
The tech overlord only stared at the screen.
Was that really all you saw him as?
A digital guardian?
Just... someone who treated you like a kid?
He scoffed, he could count more times where he was the childish one.
That was stupid.
Besides that, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
What was this... horrible sinking feeling that was running through his systems?
It was like a weight that made him struggle breathing.
"Vox?"
"I'm still here. Can't believe you would forget to tell me something as important as this."
His claws dug into his armrests, he should've been happy you found yourself a partner.
If that partner just didn't remind him so much of himself.
"I'm sorry okay? I was really busy the last few days."
"The last few days? How long have you even been talking to this guy dollface?"
"Months? Probably? I've known him for a while now, he was the school crush when I was back in high school."
Vox wanted to convince you that this guy was bad news.
A walking red flag if you will.
He... should know.
Vox was at least aware of himself that much.
Still, he swallowed it all back and just replied to you again.
"I don't mind the fact you're off the market, hell- congratulations even! Just don't get into any sketchy shit. You know, anything that could be used against you as blackmail."
"Yeah yeah, I know what I'm doing Vox. Seriously, don't worry about it!"
You simply brushed off his worry, typical.
That just made the suffocating feeling even worse.
He didn't even know where it came from, or why.
"Oh yeah! I've got a boyfriend now!"
Those words replayed in his head like a bullet to the skull.
The day hadn't even started.
And Vox already wished it was over.
This just continued for a while, your presence in his schedule became negligible and Vox was falling back into his old vices.
He became snappy, irritable, just downright intolerable to be around.
The employees were feeling it, the Vees were collateral-
Not even Valentino could placate Vox's current horrid state.
It's been a week.
Vox stopped bothering to message you in the morning.
But he didn't stop checking if you would message him even once or twice.
It was pathetic.
And another.
Vox broke more than a dozen phones from just throwing them around.
He drank himself to sleep every night.
Valentino and Velvette were getting tired of having to dump his wasted ass on his bed every time.
And another.
Vox holed himself up in his monitor room whenever he wasn't needed.
No one could get him to come out.
Not even for food or water.
If he needed anything he would get it himself.
It was a long day of broadcasts and meetings, another monotonous cycle in his fast-paced life.
Vox intended to just drink until he passed out again, but he somehow found himself drunkenly stumbling through the halls of the Vee Tower into his monitor room.
He honestly didn't even know what he was doing this time.
The overlord fought to keep his own head up as he collapsed in his chair.
He glanced over to the side your computer's screen was connected to and let out a shaky sigh.
God, he fucking missed you.
Against his better judgement, Vox connected himself to your devices again.
He went straight to your playlist and just pressed start.
Picture perfect memories, scattered all around the floor~
Vox spun around in his chair, letting the music ebb and flow into his brain.
He took another swig from the bottle of alcohol in his other hand, squinting at the screens.
Everything was just kind of fuzzy.
Reaching for the phone cause, I can't fight it anymore...
It took him by surprise when one of the screens showed your living room.
Had you connected him to your TV again?
"Vox...? Are you there?"
And I wonder if I've ever crossed your mind?
He was too out of it to properly say anything, Vox couldn't recall if the words that stumbled out of him were even coherent.
"Dude... you look like shit."
Listening to your voice gave him a slight moment of sobriety.
"Likewise dollface."
For me it happens all the time...
"Are you wasted??"
"Erm, not really. Just buzzed."
He was able to take a good look at you then, your eyes were red and puffy like you'd just been crying.
It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now...
"What the hell happened to you?"
"Uh... well... you know that guy I was dating?"
Vox took a swig of alcohol before he replied, there was no way he was making it through his conversation unless he was drunk out of his circuits.
"My personality copycat? Yeah, what about?"
Said I wouldn't call, but I've lost all control-
"Your personality- what??"
"Dollface, do you seriously think I wouldn't notice how much of a walking red flag that asshole was?"
You paused as he took another swig of his drink, Vox didn't miss that look of guilt and pity in your eyes.
"But you just called him your copy."
"And? I know I'm a piece of shit. Takes one to know one."
And I need you now...
"Whatever, I don't think you'd stoop as low as he did."
"That's for me to judge, what did the bastard do?"
He saw the slight tremble in your posture, your voice cracked as if you were holding back sobs.
And I don't know how I can do without-
"I- I knew I should've listened to you. I sent him compromising pictures and he... he-"
"You sent him nudes and he used them to blackmail you didn't he?"
You flopped back down on the couch and his unfocused eyes met your watery ones.
So that's why you'd been crying.
I just need you now...
"It doesn't feel good to have your trust broken by someone you gave your heart to I'd reckon."
You scoffed at him, wiping away your tears as they continued to fall.
Vox so badly wanted to make it stop, but he didn't trust himself to be lucid enough to say the right words.
"Well wouldn't you know? I'd bet the women over there would throw themselves at your feet."
Another shot of whisky, can't stop looking at the door...
Vox couldn't tell if it was his imagination or not that made it seem like he heard jealousy in your voice.
There wasn't any reason for you to feel envious anyway.
He took another swig of alcohol before meeting your gaze once again.
Wishing you'd come sweeping, in the way you did before~
"So what if there are? I'm too busy to pursue a dedicated relationship. I mean- have you seen the amount of shit I have to deal with every day?"
You looked dejected by his answer, or at least that's what Vox thought.
Yeah, he was absolutely wasted.
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?
"So what did you do? Did you break up with the guy?"
"Can't. If I do, he'll release all my pictures online."
Vox hummed, pulling up a window on your computer for you to interact with.
He was a paranoid man as is, but this just proved it didn't hurt to have precautions in place.
For me it happens all the time...
"What is that?"
"Something I made for all your files months ago."
"What does it do?"
Vox took another swig from his bottle.
It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now...
"A safeguard, all files you send from your devices can be irreversibly corrupted remotely. An encryption thing, I tried to tell you about it but you didn't respond."
He wasn't surprised that you pressed the prompt to start the file corruption process on those pictures you'd sent.
Hell, everything you sent the rat bastard that broke your heart.
Honestly, the fucker didn't even deserve you.
Neither did Vox if he had to be honest with himself.
Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control-
The overlord stayed silent as he drank once more from his bottle of booze.
It was nearly empty at this point, not that he cared.
He could only assume you were watching the progress bar load which was why you didn't say anything.
And I need you now...
Vox just watched as you eventually got up and used your phone to call someone.
A smug smile worked onto his face when he realized who you were talking to.
After all, you'd only curse like a sailor when you were genuinely mad.
And I don't know how I can do without-
"You're kind of hot when you get angry you know?"
"Pfft, is that why you like to piss me off then?"
"Maybe, though I usually do just to get a reaction out of you anyways."
I just need you now...
Vox saw you roll your eyes, a smile finally gracing your face and he couldn't help but return it.
"I just became single again and you're already hitting on me huh?"
"Whaaaaat? I would never."
Vox humored you well into the morning hours.
The both of you talking once again like old times.
Like nothing even happened.
Eventually it got to the point you had fallen asleep on the couch right in front of the TV during one of Vox's stories.
The overlord let a soft genuine smile appear on his face at the sight.
At least you were okay again.
He swirled the remaining alcohol in the bottle and threw his head back as he downed the rest of it.
Finally feeling the exhaustion catch up to him, both emotionally and physically-
Vox's screen dimmed as he succumbed to slumber right alongside you in his chair.
A/N: HOOOOLY SHIT THIS CHAPTER IS LONG- this was an absolute UNIT of a segment but it gets better in the next one I promise, besides- I don't want to doom Vox and Reader by the narrative, that would just be a sucky ending. We'll still have more emotionally vulnerable stuff in the next interlude so if that's not your cup of tea feel free to skip it too.
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localtelephonebooth · 3 months
Text
Thoughts on Kieran’s relationship with Ogerpon as a previously obsessive teenager:
(I did not proof read this. I just woke up, had the urge, and now it’s here.)
Kieran, to me, is a very relatable character. He is a shy, and quiet teenager in a small town. He lacks friendships and possibly meaningful connections with those who do spend time with him. He’s probably isolated due to the fact that he lacks a phone. Any friends he does make are likely school based only. So, Kieran latches on to anything he can to feel less alone in life. And of course he latches onto Ogerpon. Ogerpon is just like him. A sad “monster” all isolated and alone in the mountains. I’m certain that Kieran has fantasized about meeting Ogerpon and getting into wild adventures with her. I did the same thing with characters I enjoyed.
Princess Luna, for example (sorry to whiplash anyone with that), was a character I heavily related to. She was alone and isolated due to her previous actions. She struggled with fitting in and having a healthy relationship with her sister for awhile. To say I didn’t form an obsession with a character who understood my feelings would be a lie. I think Kieran is the same.
He became obsessed with Ogerpon. He become obsessed with the ideas he crafted of him and Ogerpon. In a way, that fantasy was VERY real to him. So when we come around and lie about meeting Ogerpon, and inevitably become friends with her behind his back, of course he freaks out! We stole his fantasy of him and Ogerpon! And that’s the key point here that people tend to not realize. We didn’t steal Ogerpon from Kieran, we just stole his fantasy and made it our reality.
With my obsession with princess Luna (again, whiplash), if anyone said they loved princess Luna it was a fucking attack on me. Princess Luna was my best friend, and she could only love me! Everyone else was just a jealous thief.
As an adult looking back on this mindset, it’s horribly embarrassing. It’s a mindset I carried into my real life, when I actually started making friends, that ruined so much for me. I lost friends because I was so angry that my fantasies were not reciprocated. I really do think Kieran does the same. He grows sad and frustrated over what happened with Ogerpon. His fantasy is just a fantasy, and that’s fucking with him. So naturally, he finds a new fantasy to, hopefully in his mind, make a reality. And so he chose battling and winning against you. The thing we used to “steal” Ogerpon away from him (Even though Kieran technically suggested battling for Ogerpon, I don’t doubt he used it to rationalize why she didn’t want to come with him). To him, being the best battler will solve everything. Kieran will get his revenge, he’ll finally be recognized, everyone can’t lie to him because they fear or admire him, and he’ll prove to Ogerpon he was the right choice.
.
Now, I want to say something about Kieran. A detail that, for whatever reason, people don’t like to acknowledge: He’s just a kid.
I’m not saying “He’s a widdle baby. He can do no harm!” No, Kieran’s an asshole. He became a bully. I can have empathy for his emotions, but not excuse his actions. He’s a dumb and entitled teenager with issues. And, quite obviously, he doesn’t really have a way to deal with his issues in a healthy manner (seriously, his school is based solely on battling. Anyone who’s going or gone to a specialized school can understand how toxic people can get in that type of environment. And don’t even get me started on the incompetence of the adults in Kieran’s school).
Kieran is a teenage boy growing up right now. He’s got a lot to work through, and a lot of people he’s gotta confront about his behavior. He was an asshole, a bully, and genuinely a bad person for minute. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t growing past that. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve recognition for his growth. You can recognize someone has changed and not forgive them.
Kieran is a really intriguing character and holds a valuable lesson in obsession. And I really wish people would recognize that he’s not just an irredeemable prick or an innocent little guy. He’s a kid learning. He’s going to make really stupid and bad mistakes. Just like how I, and probably you reading this, did.
Anyways, hopefully we see him interact with the Area Zero buddies. I think those three have amazing lessons that Kieran can learn from. Maybe Kieran can teach them a few things too!
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cookierunauprompts · 2 months
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Okay, okay hear me out.
This is an idea me and onesies thought of..
So you can go where ever direction you want with this prompt
But I give you
Shadow milk with hypnotism
Anon how does it feel to have the biggest brain I've ever seen?/pos
Requested Prompts #3 - 💓
You had gotten separated from your friends when the beast had escaped, the blast of energy knocking you a decent way out of the fairy kingdom and into Beast Yeast... Thank God that White Lily Cookie had managed to seal up the rift before the other four could get out beforehand. One gigantic cookie to fight against was enough after all. It was rather unfortunate that you got blasted into a rather dark part of the forest, you felt like there were eyes watching your every single movement. You wandered around, a chill seeping into your dough as you remembered Shadow Milk Cookie's words before you all got blasted away... " Ready or not, here I come! Ehe he he ha ha hah~!" Was this all like a game to the giant beast? The thought terrified you, you should hide, and quick. So you looked around for a hiding place, any kind would be good so long as it was a good one. Was it just you, or could you hear his laughter echoing through the trees? it was totally just you, right? Apparently the universe loves to prove you wrong, seeing as two giant cookie hands slam down onto the ground at both your sides as a humongous shadow is cast over you. " Peek-a-boo~ I see you~!" You could hear Shadow Milk Cookie almost mockingly coo as you turned around and fell on your backside out of fear. How'd he find you so quickly?! " Oh my dear, there's no need to be scared!" He chuckled, scooping you up in one giant hand. If there was a chance you could escape unscathed before, then it was certainly gone by now. " After all, you've got me here!" " Wh-what do you want from me?!" You stammer out, voice catching in your throat one he stared down at you with those absolutely humongous heterochromatic blue eyes of his. You felt like a new piece of candy in a candy store being examined by at kid to determine if it's worth eating or not. The overgrown jester sighed, putting a hand to his head in an exasperated manner. " Oh, woe is me! The rare moment I find kindness in my heart to bestow upon another cookie, they be ever so rude about it!" He dramatically sulked, you almost felt bad for the guy... almost. " But! Such a small little treat like you shouldn't be wandering the forests of Beast-Yeast alone! No no no no no! That wouldn't do at all!" He proclaimed, suddenly a lot more cheerful that it almost gave your emotional whiplash. With his other hand, he tilted your head up so you'd be staring right into his vibrant gaze. Was it just you, or were his eyes swirling? " So just trust in me alone, and I'll get you somewhere safe~" You can feel something worming it's way into your head. Why shouldn't you trust Shadow Milk Cookie? Maybe he's just a huge softie under all that malice and mischief. No, no, he definitely tried to crumble your friends earlier. But he's so strong, and you're just a weak little cookie who can barely fight off the monsters of Beast-Yeast on their own- Wait. " Gah! No! Get out.... of my head!" You squirmed away from his grasp, shutting your eyes as you buried your face into his hand. You refused to be mind controlled by this... this giant clown! You could hear him laughing again, a sound that haunted your ears as you felt him tenderly stroke your back in a way that made your shiver. " Eheh he heh~ It's really cute when you try to resist," He purred, flipping you onto your back with a simple maneuver. Then, to your absolute shock, he lent down and kissed your forehead...? " I like you, Reader Cookie!" He chirped. What.... what even was that?! He kissed you!? That- what- That's certainly not a normal thing to happen! Your guard had been lowered into the ground and buried, allowing Shadow Milk Cookie to worm his way into your mind without any issues whatsoever. Your vision felt hazy, what were you doing again? Oh, right, staring into Shadow Milk Cookie's eyes... They really were pretty eyes, so many pretty shades of blue swirling around in them. But before that? ... Does it really matter? Shadow Milk laughed from above, his voice echoing all around the forest.
" There we go~! That wasn't so hard now, wasn't it Little Star?" He cooed, stroking your face gently with his hand. It was an almost tender motion, you weren't really sure what to make of it. " Now, why don't we go and find your friends? I'm sure that they're dying to reunite with you!" You slowly nodded, right, your friends… Your friends? You… don't quite remember their faces, but it'll come to you eventually… you hope. " Eheh he he he he~! One down, five to go~" Shadow milk cackled to himself as he began walking through the forests of Beast-Yeast with you in hand.
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angelltheninth · 1 year
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Can you do bakugou and midoriya with a jealous s/o? Preferably, s/o jealous over a fellow fem!classmate? Lots of angst then fluff at the end! Thank you so much!!!
Angst and fluff is the best combination.
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader x Izuku Midoriya
Tags: fluff, angst, developing relationship, jealousy, confession, poly relationship, kissing, flirting, cuddling
A/N: Having them as boyfriends would give you whiplash.
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You noticed when you were training together that your heart rate spiked when Bakugou and Izuku talked to other girls
And it wasn't in the fluttering way that it beat when you'd catch Izuku looking at you in class, or when Bakugou would toss you a playful wink
It was a painful, aching, burning sensation deep within your chest
Bakugou kept looking at you, leaning into your space, thinking there was something going on, you were more flustered then usual and he needed to know why
Izuku on the other hand offered to talk to you, he cares for all of his classmates so when he sees you feeling down he wants to cheer you up
The only problem is that he doesn't realize that you only want his company, well his and Bakugou's, not anyone else right now
When you're done with training and you see both of them being fawned over, being complimented and touched
It's silly, you're not dating either one of them but your emotions well up so much that you unleash your Quirk by accident, catching everyone's attention including that of Izuku and Bakugou
Embarrassed you run away, crying as you run, but not before your eyes meet both of theirs
They're just as confused as everyone else is but they take off after you, not wanting to leave you
Izuku wants to comfort you, Bakugou wants to know what the hell has been happening with you lately
They find you in your room, sitting in the corner of the room, eyes puffy and red from crying and embarrassment combined
Izuku immediately goes to your side, not touching you yet because he knows full well what it's like when you lose control of your Quirk and he doesn't want to do anything to set you off
Honestly you don't wanna talk to anyone right now, and just having your two crushes there is a lot
Part of you is happy because it means they clearly care, but another part is scared that you're gonna do something to push them away and mess up your friendship
It takes both you and Izuku off guard when Bakugou steps up and pulls you into a kiss
You moan in surprise, face heating up more then his flames
He pulls away, looking at you, his own face red and burning as he lets you fall back to your knees
Izuku is flabbergasted by what he just saw, and a little angry because Bakugou kissed you first
While he had no idea that you like him, he liked you
Bakugou knew you like him, he wanted to wait, but he was never the most patient guy to begin with or good with comfort so he did the only thing he knew, to distract you
Maybe a kiss was the wrong move, but he didn't know what else to do to comfort you, he's not good with feelings like Izuku
Speaking of him, he now has one hand around your shoulder, staring at Bakugou, protectively curled toward you
You throw your arms around him and bury your head in his uniform, making Bakugou think he really messed up
He starts to walk away when you yell after him and ask him to hug you
You need both of them right now, you want them both with you
The two rivals and friends exchange looks, not sure how to handle this situation but they both know they wanna make you feel better
You feel their warmth, their arms embracing you, Bakugou's lips on your neck
Feeling the urge to make things even you kissed Izuku, much more softly then Bakugou kissed you, waiting for him to press into you
After you calmed down, being kissed by them here and there, your neck, your hands and your wrists too, you wanted to talk to them about what was happening with you
You finally felt confidant enough to confess to them, and really at this point they both already knew but you still wanted to say it, to have closure on that and move on together with them both by your side
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seetangus · 4 months
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How about azula realizing she really likes the reader after they take a life-threatening injury for her?? Love me some angst
Fiery Care - Azula x Reader os
[masterlist]
Azula x gn reader, tw: blood, heavy injury
1.340 words, please tell me if you find any mistakes!
I hope I got the request right, enjoy :)
No-one had prepared you for this. Rocks were being thrown at you by an earthbender, accompanied by the combined magic of a waterbender, the treacherous, disgraced prince, some incompetent boy with a sword and the Avatar himself.
You had trained firebending a lot, because, even considering that you were born into them, one only got accepted in the upper circles of the fire nation if one was a good fighter, but normally you were kept far away from any actual, real fights by your family, as they valued you - or rather your appearance; they wouldn't want their "little prodigy" to enter the service under the fire lord with any "flaws" that originated from missteps in battles.
However, you had insisted on taking part in this battle for a very special reason.
< • ◇ • >
A few hours earlier:
Azula walked, or rather marched, through the courtyard, straight towards you. That was a very rare sight and an unnerving one too, as you had long been plagued by strong unrequited feelings towards the princess. You quickly arranged your armour to look even more orderly and clean than it already was, acting with a nervousness and anticipation that would have told anyone who saw you that it was not just, like with anyone else, fear, that Azula ignited in you, but also some much warmer feelings.
Well, it might have told anyone, but Azula wasn't anyone, was she?
Her two friends who always escorted her probably knew, but that was no matter to worry about as they seemed pretty reasonable and pitied you, because of your feelings, to a degree at which they didn't feel the need to worsen your emotional state anymore by telling Azula about your feelings.
Now Azula stopped pretty close in front of you - she could probably feel the heat your reddened face emitted, but she did not seem to care.
"Y/N. Our scouts have tracked down the Avatar. We will leave in a few minutes to confront him and his companions. Father says it would be a good first fight for you, but honestly I don't care wether you accompany us as it likely won't make any difference. So you can stay here if you want to."
With much more energy than fitting you immediately responded that there could be nothing more delightful for you than joining her in battle. Ty Lee grinned at you from behind Azula, making you blush even harder.
Azula seemed unimpressed at your enthusiasm, but you didn't care. What mattered was that you would be close to her - or at least closer to her than normally - for a little while.
Also, you should be able to convince your parents to let you go if you mentioned that the fire lord himself thought that it was a good idea.
< • ◇ • >
Well, maybe the reason you took part in the battle wasn't even that special. You wanted to impress Azula, that was about it. A pretty dumb thought, if you thought about it - she was more or less infallible, how was one, especially you, to impress her?
However, there was not much time to think about such matters, as the attacks coming from the people you were facing seemed to become faster by the second.
You dodged a fire bolt the filthy traitor prince sent towards you and melted a stone that flew towards you mid air, freeing you up for just one moment of looking around the battlefield.
The first thing you noticed was dramatic. A whip made from sharpened, magical water made its way to Azula and she, who was in any other moment completely aware of her surroundings, was just preparing to defend against an attack from the Avatar-boy - she could get killed by that whiplash!
From one moment to another, your brain was deactivated and your protection-instincts, and maybe a bit of love, took over: in an enormous leap you rushed over to Azula - for one moment, everything was red and pain, but soon relieving darkness enclosed you.
---
With an enormous wave of wind, the Avatar ripped two small trees out of the earth, throwing them at Azula. She laughed at that pathetic attempt to seize her, igniting the wood with such fire that only a drizzle of ashes arrived at her position. But that ominous rain not only consisted of the remains of the burned trees, but also of blood.
She quickly looked around herself to see from where the scarlet liquid could originate - the first thing she found was the origin of the terrible act: the waterbender-girl was retrieving a thread of water she had been bending for it to become sharp and deadly into the bottle she always carried around.
Continuing her search, she found, or rather stumbled upon you. You laid unconciously besides her feet, your shoulder bleeding furiously. Considering that you hadn't stood there a few moments ago and in which direction the whip had been flying, it did not take long for Azula to realise the whiplash had been meant for her.
Driven back by a continuously growing amount of fire nation soldiers, the Avatar and his partners fled the battlefield, giving Azula an oppertunity to lean down to you and inspect your barely breathing body further. The more she realised what had happened, the more irrational feelings rushed through her head.
Naturally, everyone would sacrifice themselves for her, right? She was Azula. She really should not feel bad for you, it had been your duty to save her. In fights, things like these happened. You had to live (or not, in some cases) with it.
Yet, she could not help telling the healers who soon arrived to be extra careful with you if they did not want to experience her wrath.
She also couldn't keep herself from waiting outside the healer's tent, anxiously expecting the moment you would leave it. You would leave it, after all. She demanded you did. There was simply no way you couldn't.
And, what was maybe the worst of all, your face did not want to leave her mind. The face she had seen so many times on the courtyard and that she had always taken for granted - and that had not lost any of its beauty even when tainted through your own dark blood.
Given the size of your wound the process of healing was a long and exhausting one, but each day Azulas hope of seeing you again grew with the increasingly positive reports of the healers she ordered them to bring her.
Quite a few times had Ty Lee told Azula, in a very subtle manner, that it was quite unusual for her to think about someone this much. To care about them, even. That it almost seemed as if she liked you.
Naturally, Azula refused to give such assumptions any credit. Romantic fantasies like this were for children, and she was the very confident princess of the fire nation, not some toddler, wasn't she?
Of course she had to admit that she valued your wellbeing a little bit more than everyone elses, but her liking you? How absurd. Ridiculous, even.
Anyways, the only thing she seemed to do the following days beside worrying about you was to emphasize that she did not in any way worry about you at all. Oh, she couldn't wait for the day you left the hospital so that she could ask you some serious questions about what you did to make her think about you.
When the day of your releasememt from the hospital came, though, any questions were quickly forgot. Alone the sight of your face made her see everything she could have ever asked for.
You too could not believe your luck when Azula was the first person to greet you after leaving the hospital; her inviting you to sit beside her at the royal dinner that evening exceeded all your dreams.
She stepped closer towards you, and your heart fluttered when you saw the same look in her eyes that you had been giving her for a long time.
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ari-gami · 6 months
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Punkflower
So I've been itching to make some Punkflower fanfiction but i'm not too sure about my writing skills, so I'll post the first chapter here before i commit to AO3.
Summary: Hobie doesn't like the way Gwen handled the situation with Miles, especially after getting to know the guy better. It was messed up, and their friendship is on tense terms. Miles is still reeling from the emotional whiplash from Gwen, one minute feeling betrayed to being thankful, but forgiving her will be hard and he doesn't know if their friendship will ever bounce back into what it was. Luckily he has someone who has had his back from day 1.
"I Don't Like Your Girlfriend"
“You really like this guy huh?”
“Oh my god, shut up Hobie!”
“ I will when ya shut up about that spider from 1610.”
Hobie could see the light blush on Gwen’s cheeks as she turned her head with a huff. It was a bit endearing how her face would scrunch up at the thought of her own feelings, but Hobie knew she wouldn’t allow herself to admit them.
“You know it’s not like that.”
“You care a lot about him, Gwendy, you can admit that much.”
“That’s the scary part, Hobie! I can’t see him again and admitting to myself that I could have..feelings for him would just cause me more heartache. Also, Miguel wouldn’t..” she trailed off.
Hobie had a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s aware of the underlying statement. Miguel already thinks Gwen’s a liability if anything involving Miles Morales occurred, and he would not hesitate to throw her back into the very situation he saved her from if she tried to contact Miles. Gwen would be alone again, and this time, permanently.
He sighed and thought of what he would do if he had such a deep connection to someone, if he had what Gwen had. It's not that he doesn't have anyone close to him, he had Gwen and his bandmates after all, but the way Gwen described her bond with Miles made Hobie ache for something similar. To have a connection forged in mutual hardship, where both parties come out as changed people. To meet and have an initial spark so strong that it would set fire to all aspects of his life afterward. 
             If Hobie had been in Gwen's shoes, he wouldn't have stayed away from Earth 1610. He would've disassembled the watch to reverse engineer one for himself and jump right through the portal back into Miles’s world. (Not that he wasn't working on it now, he hates the idea of multidimensional travel being monopolized.)
             But Gwen was in a delicate situation and right now craved approval from adult figure- that's where they differed. Hobie could tell that if she had to choose between Miles and the Society, she would most likely choose the Society. The idea of that made him a bit sick, knowing that Miles would be betrayed and alone if Gwen didn't play her cards right. He would be all alone, just like Gwen had been, and the worse part, he might never know of the betrayal.
           He would give her time to make her decision, but Hobie would also be making his own. If Miguel starts shit with Miles for being an anomaly, Hobie would be there to help him. If Miguel decided that shunning Miles wasn’t enough and actively went to attack him, Hobie would do everything he could to stop him. The idea that the Society is trying to squash out an outlier to defend the so-called canon went against everything Hobie stood for. 
He just hoped that if it ever came down to Gwen sticking with HQ and Hobie with Miles, their friendship could be salvaged.
           From what Gwen shared, Miles was the type of Spiderman who couldn't be held down when he made up his mind. When everyone ganged up on him, he found a way to prove to them that he was capable of lifting the mantle. (Not that Hobie approved of the other spiders' methods. Actually, he hated the thought of them refusing to help him at such a low point in his life. He truly believes that Miles didn't need to prove himself because, in Hobie's mind, he proved himself by instantly jumping to help send the other Spiders back.) Miles went against everything thrown at him saying he wasn't ready and instead defied the expectations and did it his own way.
            That's pretty punk of him.
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Okay so. There has been a huge resurgence of House MD recently here and I find this both fascinating and a bit whiplash-y because I have a very particular relationship with that show and there’s no way to explain it without outing myself for doing a very weird thing lmao but here we go
So I watched the show when it was airing and I liked it. I was never in a fandom for it cause I was a teenager for most of it, I was still figuring out my own sexuality and had no idea why I kept being drawn to shows where there’s really messy homoerotic relationship bait, and I just liked the show (and was extremely attached to Thirteen lmao). I knew some people who liked it too but in a more typical ‘this is a show I like’ way. I had no idea it had such a fandom following at all
And the second piece to this is I have struggled with insomnia my entire life (I probably have a circadian rhythm disorder), and the important part for this explanation is I can’t sleep in complete darkness or silence. So I watch something. But it has to be the right something - too interesting and I watch it and stay awake too long, too boring and I end up not being able to relax
So to fix this problem: I used a show I liked, but have seen a lot. I picked House MD and I’ve been doing it ever since because it works and has continued to work and I don’t want to lose sleep by messing with my system
The thing is, I started doing this in high school. My late teens. I’m now in my early 30s. I have been falling asleep to House for over a decade lmfao. I still like the show, but I’ve seen it so much that I know the plot and sometimes diagnosis in most episodes (there are a few I don’t watch, the emotional ones that are too much, and the ones last on the discs [yes I am still using the same dvds I bought over a decade ago, they still work great] I don’t see as often simply cause I’m usually asleep before then)
So to suddenly discover my nightly sleepy time show that I only ever knew a few people who liked and mostly watched with my mother back in the day actually has a massive fandom following (which I should have known lmfao like come on it’s absolutely ripe for it, I just never made the connection) that is suddenly active again feels a lot like a bunch of people just showed up in my bedroom and it’s so weird skskdjsk
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chiliger · 8 months
Text
I’m sure someone has done this already, but AU idea where Jaster Mereel is somehow alive and after years of recovery, tracks down Jango to Kamino a few years before the canon events of “Attack of the Clones.”
After a strained and emotion reunion, and introduction to Boba, Jaster is like, “Amazing. I love him. When are you going to introduce me to the rest of my bu’ade?”
Jango, blinking, confused, “The… rest?”
“Of course, the rest! I saw some of them on the way here.”
“Oh, uh, no, Buir, they’re not—”
Now, Jaster definitely knows there’s something up, no one would just commission millions of clones for no reason. But he wants to hear it from Jango first before he makes a decision. Which is the fairly obvious: “Well, I’m going to ignore the whole ‘canon fodder’ bit. We will talk about that later, though. Get you to a proper therapist. Now! It’s only midday, I’ve got a lot of ade to meet.”
So basically, Jaster strong-arms his way through Kamino by essentially adopting the clones as his grandchildren (yes, all of them, he has plenty of love).
Meeting the Alphas is a little awkward because they’re all teenagers on the cusp of adulthood and have never so much as seen a shred of genuine care and kindness from Jango, so they’re a little put off. But Jaster is willing to put in the work to gain their trust, as minimal as it might ever be.
The command class are a bit put off, but I think the first to warm up would be Wolffe and Bly because they’re more emotionally intelligent and can tell Jaster means them no harm. Cody takes the longest (besides the Alphas) to start trusting Jaster because of his strained relationship with Jango, which Jaster eventually learns about and has some words with his son.
Jaster continues through to the younger clones, as much as he can realistically meet because there are so many of them.
The tubies and littler cadets almost immediately have Jaster wrapped around their little fingers. He absolutely adores them and maybe cries a little while holding a couple of sleeping tubies.
Boba is still young enough that his viewpoint of the other clones can be changed into a more accepting attitude, but he still harbors possessiveness over Jango.
Jango himself is experiencing all sorts of emotional whiplash because he never wanted to think of the clones beyond what they were made for. But now Jaster is there as if from the dead, treating them as if they are just regular children, and it’s just a lot for Jango to process.
And idk, there’s a lot of fluff, a lot of angst, a lot of stopping the plot before the plot can happen because Jaster will be damned before he lets any of his grandkids fight in a war that isn’t theirs. Whether they were made for it or not.
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piracytheorist · 4 months
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Episode 33 reaction!
*incoherent screaming*
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WHY DID THEY MAKE THIS CUTE. WHY DOES IT WORK. I LOVE IT.
Yor talks about how they'll just put them in that inflatable boat and then go to the other ship, but would that really work with the amount of assassins on board? All they'd need to do would be fire with a sniper while the trio were boarding.
Anyway. Caught by the smell, after all. And indeed Yor doesn't seem to have a scent that super-smeller Turtleneck Guy can pick up. Interesting!
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I love how Anya didn't even have to negotiate this. She wasn't even direct about it.
Also, it looks like Anya got a little more comfortable hearing a myriad of passionate thoughts around her? Like, remember episode three, where she passed out from the amount of thoughts around her. Here she didn't seem bothered at all and thought she could "look around" for Yor's thoughts. Is that a sign that she's getting stronger and gaining more control of her power?
I love how Yor saw the two guys standing by the hallway and went like "These are probably assassins" and they were indeed assassins.
Okay. This spread is hilarious, with all the different expressions side by side, and I'm glad I had the manga in a physical copy and could see it in all its glory XD
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It was so sweet, how Olka tried to calm down Gram 🥺 the voice actress did such a great work there!
They actually fit three full chapters and one short chapter in one episode, and it still didn't feel rushed, what the hell! Like they took their time showing everything. This is amazing.
I love how Gram got excited over jumping around in Yor's arms XD
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The sniper got an order to kill the baby too, if possible! The fuck!
Setting a fight between assassins - which includes a lot of shooting - amidst a firework show is brilliant. The plain guests had no idea what was happening just a few meters away from them.
AND YOR GOT HURT!
The difference between their reactions at the other dodging was hilarious. The sniper went like "She dodged that???!?!" and Yor was like "Aw shucks, he dodged it."
Then. Yor. Fucking. DESTROYED. A DAGGER WITH HER BARE FINGERNAILS. What the actual fuck! (I accidentally typo-ed "bear fingernails" there but was it actually incorrect? This woman is a beast!)
And Gram is still having fun! Fireworks? Time to cry. People trying to kill them? Laughing his heart out :D
My god! The assassins coming out, and Yor doing her tricks with her stilettos before preparing her stance? The animators really understand the assignment!
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Some good quick action there, McMahon coming to their help and I THINK I MIGHT HAVE SCREAMED WHEN ZEB GOT HIT.
Like they were actually falling and I was like. Please tell me he wore a bulletproof vest. Please tell me he won't die. PLEASE DON'T DIE ;_;
So yeah. I was so relieved to see he had a vest. And it's also funny that they took a humorous tone with that. A bit of an emotional whiplash was expected there XD
There's so much good animation there I can't even begin to comment on it. I'll have to gif a lot tomorrow :D Probably :D
Anyway. THEY MESSED WITH THE WRONG BITCH
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Glorious.
McMahon cleaning up! Both preparing to fuck shit up!
I love how Yor apologized for using a guy's dead body as a shield from bullets. Kindness over all!
And then Loid wondering why Anya is still so excited after a long show of fireworks. He would lose his mind as a modern parent whose child could listen to Baby Shark a million times in a row.
A literal bloodshow ensues! Yor killing guy after guy and McMahon cleaning up after her!
Meanwhile, Anya and Loid enjoy the fireworks, and the office dudes win a fortune. Wins all around!
Though shit! The mace guy broke one of Yor's stilettos! Sacrilege!
They didn't pull back. With the soft song accompanying the action, we then get a hilarious (!!) montage of Yor taking out the assassins one by one and HOW DO THEY DO THAT. How is the humor in this show so effective I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. Like, Endo's writing is funny in and of itself, but then the anime manages to pick up from that and use make it over the top! I love it.
Turtleneck guy thinks he's in the position to judge Yor??? Shut up my dude.
So McMahon is a pretty traditional dude, huh. Interesting. And did Turtleneck Guy really go like, "No, YOU will be eaten by sharks!" Like was that the best you could do XD
But then! Things get deeply serious! McMahon isn't dead, is he? O_O (don't answer)
Oh my god there's so much more I can barely comment! The katana guy being over the top! Yor worrying over breaking Loid and Anya's hearts! BECAUSE SHE'LL DIE. The haircut moment XD
But then Yor had her moment of wondering and then got her ass kicked and shit.
It is not clear in the anime, but it looks like in the manga Yor ripped the earring off her earlobe to stop Turtleneck Guy from moving on.
It's kind of tragic, how the Briar siblings ended up. Yor got into a dangerous, soul-eating job to protect Yuri's carefree life, and Yuri, seeing the sacrifices she made for him, did the same for her. They're so desperate to protect each other from the evils of the world, because they're all they have...
But now she's got even more of a motive...
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So what if I cry? What if I dissolve into a puddle of tears and feels? So what? T_T
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WHAT IF I LOSE MY MIND. BECAUSE HE DOES UNDERSTAND. IT'S THE VERY SAME THING HE DOES.
One last moment of logic that yes, she did rip her earlobe.
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And now I continue screaming. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
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scuderiahoney · 2 months
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full disclosure i've been sitting on this thought ever since i first read blackbird but the amount of emotional whiplash i've been put through both from silly season and life in general has prevented me from stringing it into a coherent ask
but like i've been thinking about danny his little birdie getting matching blackbird tattoos on their leg and when they stand together it looks like the two birds are taking flight. thinking about how some of their favorite pictures are the ones taken on balmy summer nights, where the two of them are pressed together so close, where you can see the two little birds taking flight together, twin flames. and thinking about how it becomes the spot that danny always kisses when he's slotted between her thighs, the spot he worries his thumb over when they're pressed under the covers late at night. he doesn't even need to see it to know it's the right spot, the muscle memory is there.
-🌠
star babes. star, my love. star. i saw this ask this morning and it kept me going all day. i actually had a note while i was writing Blackbird that just said “stick and poke tattoos?” but i didn’t find a way to work it in, so this is perfect i love it thank you so much. adding a read more bc this got long.
i think they’d get the tattoos after they’ve been together for a bit, but tbh not that long? like maybe they’re hanging out over Danny’s winter break and they pass by a tattoo shop and she suggests it and he is absolutely all for it. like yeah matching tattoos are sort of a big deal but it’s not like they’re getting each other’s names, right?
they go in and start looking through the flash designs, and when Danny finds the little bird they’re both set on it. they hold each other’s hands through the process. it’s adorable. he’d get his on his left leg so it stands out, so it’s prominent and not hidden away in all the other ones he has. ugh i can picture them in the tattoo parlor, standing close together while the artist puts the stencil on so they can make sure they line up perfectly.
she’s always liked his tattoos, loves tracing them, but that one’s special because it’s hers, too, you know? and Danny… he’s got a whole photo album on his phone dedicated to her tattoo. some of the pics are sweet and innocent- her in shorts on a camping trip where you can see it peeking out, the picture from the tattoo parlor when it was fresh. but some of them are also for his eyes only. his hand around her thigh, the little birdie between his fingers, her in her underwear, the bird displayed prominently, hickeys and bite marks all around it. you get the idea.
in my head they go on camping trips together a lot. i think they’d sit around the campfire in separate chairs, but close enough that their legs are pressed together. he hates when it gets chilly enough that she puts pants on. definitely pushes the hem of her shorts up if they’re covering the tattoo just so he can see it.
can so see her kissing his thighs when she goes down on him and paying special attention to that spot. he does the same for her. and he def runs his thumb over it as he’s falling asleep, sometimes in his sleep. he swears the skin feels different. she’d call him crazy if he didn’t find the spot every time without even looking.
also i think eventually his nickname for her morphs into just straight up Birdie. and when she meets his friends/people in the paddock they’re surprised to find out that’s not actually her name. just a lil headcanon of mine. someone definitely asks if the tattoo is bc of her name and she’s like… “oh that’s actually not my name, it’s a nickname, but Danny has a matching one!” and he’s either pulling up his shorts or pulling down his pants to show his off
thank you for giving me an excuse to word vomit ab them i love Blackbird Danny sm
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alex51324 · 5 months
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That Tweet, take 2
OK, so my first reaction to That Tweet, by Djenks, was as follows:
My money is on DJenks realizing that he shat the bed & now furiously trying to write himself out of the corner he's in. (My second guess is that he basically already knows there won't be a Season 3, but there's some network or business-related reason for not announcing it yet.)
But now that I've had a bit more time to think about it, I am kind of seeing a scenario where he could've intended it to be a fuckery all along.
Step one is that we imagine him being a bit disappointed by how Lucius's death fooled absolutely no-one. It's likely that he was planning for the reveal that he was alive to be a much bigger moment than it actually was; maybe he even has some Big Reveal ideas that he had to put on ice once it became clear that there was very little actual suspense surrounding Lucius's fate. This is, obviously, since I don't know him personally, a big hairy guess, but it seems like a very plausible reaction for someone to have, when they put a lot of effort into planning a surprise and it falls flat because everyone guessed it.
Step two is him deciding to sell Izzy's "death" a little harder, with the emotional death scene and the funeral (where we do not actually see the body, and a mourner, Wee John, is missing) and all. It's laying it on a little thick, in my opinion, but again, we did all confidently (and correctly) assume that Lucius was alive based on the evidence that "this show wouldn't do that" and "The Stede-Ed reunion won't work if he's really dead," so you can see how a showrunner could, hypothetically, get to--
Step three, is Djenks opening up his socials at the crack of dawn on Thursday morning, expecting to see reams of speculation and analysis about how Izzy could have survived, and being genuinely shocked to instead find seas of angry and devastated fans suggesting that he should perhaps give up television in favor of a career in going and fucking himself.
Step four, realizing that he drastically overshot the mark re: creating genuine suspense over character death, he tweets out a big obvious hint.
I don't love this interpretation--for one thing, there is nothing in the episode we saw that would provide a plausible in-universe reason for faking Izzy's death. It would be pretty easy to create one--have Prince Ricky No-Nose vow personal vengeance against Izzy Hands in specific for calling him a syphilitic cunt/his role in foiling the "end of piracy" scheme--but we did not see anything like that. To make the funeral scene work as a fuckery, it would be necessary to insert a flashback between the "death" and the funeral in which A) this happens, and B) the other characters find out about it. That's a cheap trick that I personally hate--the old, "Haha, I made you feel a thing by deliberately withholding context"--but again, if it's an overcorrection for the complete and abject failure of the effort to create suspense around Lucius's fate, I guess I can live with it.
If Izzy's death is a fuckery, that addresses a lot of the other problems with the finale. First, Ed and Stede's obviously-doomed, harebrained scheme to give up piracy and be innkeepers (in a dilapidated shack, on an island where we see no other people or settlements) is plausibly funny, as long as we aren't thinking that Izzy died for it.
Second, the tonal whiplash of going from the funeral to the wedding is also fine if everyone involved knows perfect well that the guest of honor at the funeral is actually recuperating just offscreen.
(Thirdly, there's Captain Frenchie--I haven't seen much discussion of that, but the only problem I had with it is that I can't think of any moments from the season where he stood out as being a leader for the crew. I might've missed something; he's not one of my particular blorbos, but it wouldn't have taken much, just something you can look back on and see how it was setting up him becoming captain.
And, crucially, we do have those few little moments of setup for Frenchie as First Mate to Captain Izzy. Frenchie was there during the dark days, during which he presumably underwent some skill development, pirate-wise, and definitely bonded with Izzy to some extent. We see him holding Izzy's hand during his breakdown, and he presumably helped hide him and definitely lied to Blackbeard about it, and then how they were sitting in the cell on Zheng's ship--it isn't a whole lot, but you can look back and see why it makes sense for Izzy to pick him.)
Making Izzy's death a fuckery doesn't do anything to fix the way the whole Zheng thing fell flat. (Why give her a massive fleet in the first place, only to take it away? Why did we get those scenes of ships being towed across land? What was she doing selling soup on the Republic of Pirates? For that matter, why did she come to the Caribbean in the first place, after becoming Pirate Queen of the Chinese seas?) It doesn't help with how Ed and Stede keep repeating the same beats of getting closer, then running away, then reuniting without ever talking about their relationship or their issues. It doesn't address why the Kraken Era had to go that dark, if the whole thing was just going to be smoothed over in the space between episodes 4 and 5, and how Ed never really takes responsibility for any of what he did.
However, middle installments of trilogies are notoriously difficult to write, and it isn't particularly fair to judge them before you get to the last part. Most of the weak points could look better in hindsight once we know how it all turns out.
(And, not for nothing, as long as Izzy is alive, we can still get something where Ed reckons with the Kraken Era, and particularly-but-not-exclusively what he did to Izzy. I don't see how that works with a dead Izzy, though--it's too easy for Ed to keep minimizing what he did and offloading blame onto him.)
There isn't a whole lot of evidence for an Izzy Lives scenario. All we have is:
This Show Wouldn't Do That (which, recall, was point 1 in why we didn't believe Lucius was dead. However, it is weakened by the absence of point 2--unlike with Lucius, the person who "killed" Izzy isn't a character we're expected to like or root for.)
No body at the funeral. I initially interpreted the funeral as being intended as proof that Izzy was really dead, a sort of "don't get your hopes up, guys," after what happened with Lucius. But again, if we're thinking about the framing of Izzy's "death" as an overcorrection to how completely non-fooled we all were by Lucius's, maaaaaybe not? I mean, if he really wanted to hammer the nail into the coffin, we would have seen Izzy lying in the grave, or his body being sewn into a shroud of sailcloth (as was the custom), or something. (Also, point 2b, the unicorn did have two legs.)
No Wee John at the funeral. There are certainly Doylist reasons he might've been left out--maybe the way the shooting schedule worked out, it saved money or some other resource to just leave him out of that scene, something like that. But for an in-universe reason, "somebody had to stay back and nurse Izzy" makes a lot of sense. (I mean, if this show operated on real-world logic, someone would have had to stay with the ship, but that's never been a concern before.) Wee John helping Izzy with his makeup for Calypso's birthday was presumably a bonding experience that involved some vulnerability on Izzy's part, so it would be weird for him to just nope out of the funeral, but plausible that Izzy would find him acceptable as a caregiver.
Stede and Ed's conversation over Izzy's grave could, just barely, make sense as a conversation about how Ed and Izzy are now on separate paths, with no particular guarantee that they'll see each other again. It takes a certain amount of massaging to make it fit, but it almost could? (Except Zheng's part really doesn't--unless the grave actually contains someone Ed cares about, or she isn't in on the secret that the funeral is a fuckery.)
I'm not in love with any of this, or even particularly convinced by it--my enthusiasm for any Season 3 is going to be pretty dampened, unless the announcement that it's been picked up includes the information that Con O'Neill has a contract to appear as a major character in all 8/10/whatever episodes--but IDK, I guess it's maybe not outside the realm of possibility? Ish?
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lapis-lights · 1 year
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04 | I Love You For Infinity
'Falling From Grace' Series Finale
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[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]
Song Title: Infinity by Jaymes Young
Content Warnings: Near death, Lots of gun violence, Experimental Stuff, They finally get to be happy :D
Word Count: 13.9k
Author's Notes: Here we are at the finale :') I really really hoped you guys liked this series as I spent such a long time on it. I know some things were out of character but hey! We live and we learn, yeah?
I'm working on drafting up potential ideas and blurbs for the next big story project so I hope you guys will stick around for that :D
Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!
Series Masterlist
Ao3
Summary: You and Leon have finally found common ground as you take your final stand against the J.I.E., but not everything comes up roses. Though, no matter what, Leon's hand is in yours and it was something you would face...together.
✧ ˚  ·    .
'Cause you're the reason I believe in fate, you're my paradise. And I'll do anything to be your love or be your sacrifice. 'Cause I love you for infinity....
✧ ˚  ·    .
The next days are spent meticulously losing yourselves in the files you’d recovered from the J.I.E lab but also losing yourselves in each other. 
A switch had flipped in the atmosphere between you two and the abrupt shift from avoiding Leon to not being able to stand being away from him for more than a few minutes was enough to give you emotional whiplash. 
There are nights where he takes it nice and slow, worshiping your body and rolling his hips deeply into you just to watch your face contorted in pleasure. There are times he fucks you so desperately that all you can do is hold on for dear life and let him do all the work. There are days where you tug each other away from papers and reports and bioweapons to relax, offering up the suggestion of stress release that usually ends with one of you blissed out while the other takes gentle care of them. 
Sometimes Leon will go on errand runs that leave you regrettably on your lonesome, until he returns and catches you by surprise. You don't even get a chance to greet him at the door before his head is between your thighs, licking hotly into your core eagerly while you mewl helplessly above him. You're sure housekeeping is frustrated with your constant requests to change the sheets daily. 
It's not just sex, though. There are times you doubt that this is as permanent as he promises. There are moments where you stare listlessly and wonder when Leon will realize that you're not what he wants before leaving you in a cold bed one morning. While it never happens, he's always quick to soothe those fears with a gentle kiss and an offer to make cups of coffee for the both of you. Never does he berate you for thinking so sillily as your past partners had done, but rather he listens and quiets those thoughts with a tender press of his lips to the back of your hand. 
You're hopelessly in love with him, it's not even funny. You try and give back tenfold of everything he does for you, holding him during restless nights and staying up as late as you can when he can't find the strength to go to sleep. 
One night, you had read to him, voice laced with sleepiness but persisting nonetheless because you wanted to help him. Leon's head rested against your chest, reading along with you but not really doing but more than staring at patterned ink on the page. In reality, he would later tell you he was simply listening to your voice.
"Death is of happenstance, when we ebb and fade from the minds of others long after our indestructible destruction. We live and die in memories," you read sleepily, having selected a random book from off one of the shelves in the room. "The bittersweet taste of your absence on my tongue is nothing compared to the confectionary hope that you will be in my arms upon reunion."
Leon makes a noise of recognition, moving to look up at you. "I like that."
"Yeah? Do you read much?"
“Nope,” he says candidly and rolls so that his nose is buried in the slope of where your neck connects to your shoulders. One of your hands keeps a hold on the book as the other starts running mindlessly through his hair. “Love it when you do, though, sweet thing.”
That’s the other thing: his nicknames. Leon’s oddly obsessed with calling you anything sweet–sweet girl, sweet thing, sweetheart…While he does use others, those types happen to be the most common occurrence. They never make you fail to feel giddy, something like a schoolgirl finally getting the popular boy to look her way. Only for you, he seems to be just as obsessed as you are.
Admittedly, Leon's said he prefers you saying his name just because he likes the way it sounds alone, but you don’t pass up the chance to give him nicknames of your own. 
Things don't always go smoothly, though.
There are times you shy away from him, unfamiliar with his efforts. Times you question if what he promises is really true and try to not flinch away every time he reaches for you. Leon never hurts a hair on your head and while you know this, old habits do tend to die hard.
It's one night when it's raining lightly that Leon pulls you away from your analysis on one of the J.I.E.'s version of regenerators that the Los Illuminados cult created. You go whiningly, complaining that he was being too needy but secretly exhausted in a way that was probably all too easy for him to spot. 
Leon holds you in place on the bed next to him like he's afraid you'll try and run away back to the desk if he doesn't, but you don't necessarily complain since he's warm and the proximity is enough to make your heart do backflips in your ribcage. 
"You work too hard," he mumbles as the weight of the world settles into your bones. "Try and get some rest."
"Yes, dear," you mock, but kiss him all the same to let him know that you weren't truly mad. 
He makes a nice satisfactory noise, pulling you closer and kissing wherever he can reach, hands rubbing along your skin gently and leaving sparks of electricity in its wake. Just from his touch and warmth, you already feel yourself anchored down and sleep touching your eyes.
Leon lulls you, hands starting to mess and play with your hair as you allow yourself to be anchored down and down until the images fly behind your eyelids and sift through your unconscious memories.
You roll over and your face hits the sand. 
You stumble to your feet, the familiar weight and feel of a gun in your hands as the sound of helicopters roar in your ears as they fly overhead, shooting down the infected natives of the island you'd been sent to investigate. Nearly all members of the team assigned to you lie dead at your feet, crimson blood flowing in rivers from explosions, gashes, and bullet wounds. There's no time to worry about them, though. 
There's mixed screaming all around you, and aiming is second nature. A clean headshot and a well-charged kick is all it takes to take down the guy in front of you, and you swap out your handgun for a shotgun as multiple people form into a small crowd. 
You pull a grenade from your pocket, pulling the pin and throwing it into the sea of people. Stepping some paces back, you wait for the explosion before picking off the rest of those who survived the blast. It's then that your earpiece clicks and a voice comes through from your field managers back at headquarters.
"Come in, Python," they say, "according to our data, the source of the virus is right through the jungle. You need to gather whoever else is alive and head that way."
You grit your teeth, chest pricking with annoyance as you press on the earpiece and snap, "That's practically a suicide wish. We will not be doing that."
"May I remind you that you're not the director of this mission," the person on the other side snaps but their voice sounds fuzzy–muffled. "You follow whatever orders you're given and right now, you need to get to that virus."
You reload your submachine gun, and open fire. "Are you crazy?! There's only ten of us, maybe less. Who fucking knows how many are protecting the virus?"
"You signed up for this. We're expecting results."
They really were trying to work you to death.
The line cuts and you mumble a curse under your breath. A back hits yours and you glance to see one of the other team members has covered you from behind–a talented sniper who has played a role in more than a few of your successes in the past. It's a relief that she's been assigned here too and together, you mow down the bodies that are continuously shuffling and moving towards you.
There's too many coming close to her and enough that were far away from your side. You duck, twisting around her to shoot at the oncoming attacks at point blank while she props the muzzle of her rifle across your back to stabilize her aim. She takes out the ones that were a good distance away. You motion to her and together, you take off towards the heart of the island. 
"F.O.S. is insane," you grumble to her, swapping the magazines in your gun. "Sending two people for the virus."
"Better get a hell of a paycheck out of this one," she agrees. "When we get back, drinks are on me."
The two of you trek for what seems hours and time bends and warps in on itself. The next thing you know, she's not next to you anymore and nothing but the sound of nature and the wind blows through your ears. Confused, you whirl around and call out her name in hopes of a cheery response. You're met with silence and the creeping sense that something is watching.  
Your stomach drops as you aim your gun, anticipating an attack from any direction. 
Instead, a rumble is heard from far away and a flock of birds flies from the top of the canopy, squawking in distress.
A force knocks you off your feet as the island begins to undergo an earthquake. The ground sinks beneath your body as you fight to get back up, panic settling deep in your bones as your arms refuse to cooperate. You scream out for help, to see if anybody was alive left from the bloodbath on the beach, but you know the irrevocable horrible truth.
Everybody but you died that day on the island. The sniper had jumped in front of you to take a hit and sacrificed her life to give you a chance to get the virus. You had shown up at the J.I.E. with a small vial that contained a strain along with the blood of your innocence staining your hands.
The earth seems to try to swallow you whole, opening up as if to send you straight to hell. The heat is enough to burn the flesh off your bones and it feels like you're melting from the inside out. Another scream claws its way from your throat as the tears cascade down your cheeks in wet rivulets. You know you're going to die the way you should have with everybody else on that damn day. It was unfair, leaving you to be the lone survivor and the target of the trainers who worked their agents to death. 
You wait for the burn, for the fire to sear you alive when you feel that familiar touch. It's the same one that causes that controlled blaze inside of you–that melted the ice and saved you. 
It pulls you from that earthquake and right into reality, a sob escaping your lips as you scramble to upright yourself. You're sweating, eyes still leaking and your throat on fire as if you'd been shouting. Your whole body is numb and cranked to a hundred all at once, shaking like a withering leaf on an autumn day. 
Then, "Sweetheart? Are you with me?"
You flinch away, curling up before you realize who it was and what was happening. 
The bedside lamp turns on and bathes the room in a gentle yellow glow and you see Leon worriedly glancing over you, hands twitching like he didn't know if he should touch you or not. You've only had one episode before in front of him. When the night terrors bled into real life and he had woken you up then too. Back in the motel, it was nothing but awkwardness and the assumption that he didn't care whether you were suffering subconsciously or not. 
Now, things are different. They had to be. 
You sniff, trying not to look more puffy and bloated than you already do before reaching out, fingers searching for his own in a way they never have before. Leon sighs in relief, threads his hand around yours, and urges you closer. You fall against his chest and he tucks you into his body as if he could shield you from the outside world and hide away from all the distresses of your life. He doesn’t say anything–doesn’t ask for an explanation–just holds you and stays throughout the whole thing.
Once the adrenaline faded and you’re left with the exhaustion that comes after crying, Leon finally pulls away to get a good look at you. The care is more than enough to make you burst into tears, but you hold them back in favor of not sullying his shirt more than you already had.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice hoarse from sleep and screaming. 
“Don’t be,” he affirms, cupping your face and checking you as if making sure you weren’t hurt. “Bad dreams?”
“They usually are,” you admit and lean into his touch. Leon laughs gently when your eyes flutter shut, the warmth emission from him more comforting and grounding than anything else. 
He brushes strands of hair away from your forehead before twisting to grab the water bottle from the nightstand on his side. Leon doesn't pry into what happened–just stays with you as you drink to soothe your throat and settle down. You look at the digital numbers glowing on the clock. 
3:45.
"We should go back to sleep," you wince and fidget with the sheets beneath you but the reluctance is evident just by your body language and tone alone. "We should."
"We don't have to, baby," Leon soothes. "We can just stay up and do whatever until the sun comes up."
You don't want to return to that bloody beach–the start of many missions that would leave you in shambles and with less humanity than you started out with. It's almost laughable that once upon a time, you'd been a bright starry-eyed girl dreaming of changing the world. If you could rewind time, go back to when you were thinking of what you wanted to be when you grew up, you'd tell yourself to be an engineer or a veterinarian. 
Anything but this. 
Has Leon suffered through the same thing? How many people under him has he lost due to stupid mistakes and things that could have been prevented? You two really had to be so similar yet so different, but somehow, you'd found solace in each other.
"I got your shirt dirty," you frown, eying the dark patch that was no doubt a gross mix of your tears and maybe even snot.
He shrugs, pulling it by the hem and over his head. "Don't sweat it. I got a million more like it."
You can't help but stare at his perfectly sculpted chest that your hands have run over so many times. You can almost feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms. However, Leon's breathy chuckle pulls you out of your light fantasy. He flicks your forehead lightly, and you squeak as he rolls off the mattress.
"Quit staring, perv," he snorts, rummaging through his bag for another shirt. "My eyes are up here."
"We've literally fucked," you grumble, earning a surprised laugh from him. 
Upon getting another shirt, he disappears into the bathroom before returning with some tissues and picking up another water bottle along the way. You graciously blow your nose and clear all that gross mucus from your system. He allows you to finish off the rest of his old water bottle before tempting you back into his arms to lay back down.
You don't hesitate to get comfortable, breathing out serenely once you finally settle down. Reluctancy lies in your mind just thinking about going back to sleep and having to carry another gun or watch another person die, and Leon seems to catch on just as quickly.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks gently, open to a yes or no. 
Gosh, you never would have expected the grumpy guy that used to insult you freely would be this caring. If you'd known that this is how he really was, you would have cut yourself off early, though it's a miracle something like this hadn’t happened sooner.
You take a deep breath in and blow it out. "It was years ago," you begin, picking up Leon's hand and starting to trace his palm lines in an act of distracting yourself. "I was sent to an unnamed island just off of Cuba where Umbrella had set loose a virus as an experimental field run. It was my first time giving commands."
Leon hums, shifting your position so that he can rest his head on your chest, listening to your heart and your voice while you continue brushing your fingers along his skin. 
"I was sent with a fairly large team but they overestimated us. There were infected natives that we were instructed to take out, but there were so many." You close your eyes and frown. "I remember the bloodshed–the screams of anguish of all the people I couldn't save in that first fight on the beach"
"Oh, (Y/n)." 
You open your eyes and smile, albeit a little watery. "I was the only one to get on the chopper that left the island that day. Stealth became the foundation of our training from then on and I was the one who bore the brunt of it all since I was able to make it out."
Leon scowls, all dark and lips curling back into a near snarl. "So they worked you into being their perfect little soldier." 
"Like a dog." You cup his jaw and run a soothing thumb across his cheekbone. "But, I'm here now with you. That's what matters, right?"
He breathes out, regaining his sense of control and nods. "Yeah. That's what matters."
You sit there throughout the night, holding and soothing each other through touches and the occasional kiss that borders on something more if the two of you weren't tired from being woken in the early hours of the morning. Instead, you relish in the presence of him. There's many things that go unsaid, including what your relationship is labeled now, but that's a worry for another day.
The next time your face hits the sand, your eyes fly open as you find yourself in an unmarked place that you can't identify. 
No longer is the feeling of silky sheets and Leon underneath your hands, but rather the rocky grains of sand that have already begun to stick everywhere. The sky stretches with the Milky Way, white stardust streaking across a navy canvas that seems to shudder the longer you look at it. Behind you is an island, the silhouette of trees rising up like a daunting wall and tittering with the sound of nocturnal animals. Somewhere, a bird squawks. 
Water rushes up the shoreline with puffy white seafoam before receding gently and restarting the cycle all over again, but its efforts never even come close to where you were sitting. You imagine it would be cold. The sound of waves crashing calms you and on this beach, things are peaceful. It's quiet, and soft. 
There's no blood, no voices, no guilt. 
You lay back down, let the sand pillow around your head, and smile.
✧ ˚  ·    .
“Babe, come look at this.”
Leon perks up at your call, immediately getting up to join your side on the bed where multiple files scatter across the sheets. You’ve been drawing links between experiments for a few hours now while Leon makes sure you take a break every once in a while to clear your thoughts and make sure you aren't working yourself into a hole.
“They’ve been tampering with copying DNA strands,” you point out, reading a paragraph on the top of a page titled ‘Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer’. “‘Multiple test subjects have been shown falling apart or melting into a pile of unidentifiable yet useless substances. Dr. Walker theorizes that this may be a result of unstable skeletons and has proposed we build the structure akin to that of a machine. However, development would take too long so for now, we must continue perfecting the process’.”
Leon’s eyebrows furrow as he takes the paper from your hands and scans over the rest of the report briefly. “They’re trying to clone something.”
Your blood turns cold. “But what? They’ve been bulk creating bioweapons so surely that would be pointless.”
“Unless it’s not a bioweapon they’re trying to replicate,” he points out. “They could be trying to create a replica of a political figure or something.”
“But how would they have the sources to pull that off? They can’t get close enough to someone with power for a DNA strand or something of the likes.”
“I don’t know anymore about that than you do, sweetheart,” Leon mumbles, focusing on the report as his chin hooks on your shoulder and rests there. “Can you think of anybody that they’d get an advantage from?”
“Nobody else that you can’t think of,” you parrot, going through every person that they’ve targeted in the past. “Mostly I’ve been sent out to intercept the progress of rivaling companies and shadowing after you for information so your guess is just as good as mine.”
“We have to go back to the lab,” he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face and tucking it into your neck. His breaths tickle your skin. “Can’t catch a fucking break.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Kennedy,” you shrug your shoulders a little so that it jostles him enough to emit a mock aggravated groan. “I think you’ve had plenty of breaks since our last breach into the lab.”
He glances up at you, a red tint glowing on his face and you would have made fun of him for it if you weren’t going through the exact same emotions as he was. 
There’s a tense moment as your thoughts align on the same page for a minute.
“Wanna make it one more?” he prods suggestively and you have to laugh now, reaching up and patting his cheek affectionately.
“As much as I’d love to, I’d rather be able to walk when we head out. You really seem to enjoy folding me like a damn pretzel.” you tease.
“Start stretching more.”
“Give me time beforehand then.”
He falls dramatically onto his back, making a pitiful little noise as if you’ve wounded him. You snort, pick up the map, and begin marking down the route the two of you had agreed on but not yet finalized. The safe rooms are already circled in blue, and the major areas to avoid are in red. The best course of action was to pull an alarm and cut through the offices to the labs that connected to the computer room, and there, you could find the information you needed.
It was risky, and there were a lot of factors to be considered before the two of you immediately dove in. 
“That’s another cause for concern on the list,” you note, “along with the other ones we’ve listed down.” 
“Perfect,” Leon retorts. “As if the all-seeing heat detecting monsters and the eyeball motherfuckers weren’t bad enough.”
Throughout your view over of the list of bioweapons they’ve created, you managed to narrow down the ones they’ve deployed as a means of defense. One attracts to that of thermal senses and another that purely uses sight as it’s only dominant means of living, which means they’re going to be your biggest problems alongside the potential undead waiting to pop out. 
It’s also possible each one of them was injected with a variant of Las Plagas to make things even more fun. Total obedience was needed for them to function as a reliable defense system, and if they went rogue, it would cause too many heavy casualties. 
“This sucks.”
Leon huffs. “You can say that again.”
“We need to settle on a date,” you tuck everything back into the binder neatly before snapping it shut. With no grace, you fall onto Leon’s chest and he grunts as his arms circle around your waist instinctively. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Sure. We could go to the movies or take a walk in the park–”
“I will sleep in the other bed tonight.”
“I’d say a week’s time.”
You laugh gently, resting your chin on his sternum. He sighs, exasperated but lovingly all the same, and in this tender moment, it’s easy for the daunting mission to fade away. The outside world doesn’t exist when you’re with him and some part of him mourns that you’ll never be able to return to this suite when everything’s said and done. 
The future is terrifying since there’s no telling what’ll happen when he has to report back to the government.
Leon had explained to you that he was able to prod his bosses for an extended vacation after his former one was rudely interrupted by their request for his aid in dealing with the situation with Arias. You have no doubts that they wouldn’t hesitate to call him back though, so it’s a miracle he’s lasted this long. He assures you there’s nothing to worry about so you try not to be too bothered by the unnatural radio silence. 
“What are you thinking of, sweet girl?” Leon asks, running a hand through your hair and beginning to gently work out the tangles that bind together some strands. 
“You.” The answer is simple yet honest. He’s always on your mind nowadays, isn’t he?
“Yeah? What about me?” He tests and you know exactly what he’s trying to instigate.
“I’m gonna have to teach you some self-control, mister,” you chide, closing your eyes and reveling in the soothing motions through your hair. “You’re worse than I am.”
"Is that a good or a bad thing?"
"Whatever you decide," you say while stretching, yawning in the midst of the afternoon glow through the suite windows. "I wanted to ask you something, though."
Leon tilts his head and begins weaving a section of your hair into a braid. "I'm listening."
"Where do you see yourself in the future?"
He pauses, his motions stuttering before resuming almost cautiously this time. "What brought this on?"
"I was wondering what your plans are when we finally can rest," you close your eyes and make a noise between contentment and hesitancy. "We can't be worked forever and that pension's gonna be fan-fucking-tastic."
"Well," Leon breathes in like he's confessing a secret–like the two of you are children whispering things into each other's ears and pinkie promising not to tell, "I'd like to move into a suburban house–maybe one with a picket fence–that's in a small no-name city. The community would be nice but know how to keep to themselves. Maybe I'll have a couple kids running around. Work never really allowed me to think about having a family."
"That sounds really nice," you say wistfully, imagining it behind your eyelids. 
"I'd like to be able to paint and alter the walls however I'd like since I can easily afford something like that," he keeps on going. "A kitchen space just big enough to cook with someone and maybe even a window where I can watch the sun. I'd like a nice, cozy bedroom that's not neat or messy so I can bury myself in bed no matter what time I come home."
He wants such an idyllic life–one that you see in movies that everyone lives vicariously through because in this society, it was practically unachievable. Would you be so willing to have such a peaceful way of living as well? You can't fight forever, but all you've known for years is blood and gunpowder and pain. Could that world be something you deserve after everything you've done? 
Leon stops, rests his hand on the back of your skull thoughtfully, and says, "...And I want you to be in it."
You open your eyes and look at him, caught off guard. "Me?"
"Who else, sweet thing?" He laughs. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not letting you go after this."
“Stockholm Syndrome,” you hum. “Are you really sure you want me there for all that, though?”
“There’s nobody else,” Leon says seriously. “Only you.”
You breathe in, then out and focus on the heat of his touch and the weight of his words on your heart. “Okay, Leon.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. We’ll have a house together away from this all and you won’t have to worry about the monsters anymore.”
His eyes crinkle with joy when he smiles and you’ve learned what it’s like when he expresses any genuine happiness. It’s a sight to behold but surely, it’s one you would never ever forget.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Your heart beats in your ears harshly, finger twitching to pull the trigger on your handgun as you watch carefully for any signs of movement around the corner. 
The world around you sucks a breath in, watching and waiting for any possible movement that would trigger an event. 
Nothing but the hum of electricity can be heard, a constant drone in the background as sweat accumulates on the back of your neck and your stomach rolls nervously. Your arms shake and you're already aching for the welcoming feeling of the hotel suite. Unfortunately, things aren't that simple.
You and Leon had left early in the morning, once again, focused solely on making it out alive by the end of the day. Following the route and plan the two of you had finished up and agreed on, it wasn't hard to find and trip the fire alarm to the offices. People came rushing out–as predicted–but what you didn't expect was for the monsters to be roaming freely among the workers.
You and Leon had done the best you could, using the walls of the cubicles to hide away from the eyes of the monsters who could only see, with ugly pink bat wings and the body of a fleshy larva. It was only when the thermal searching bioweapons came in that you were positively fucked. Computers came crashing down, wires fizzing electricity and the lights overhead spark angrily as bullets were shot with desperation.
There were so many of them–so much that the rubble and the amount of monsters combined separated you and Leon.
You panic when you can't see him anymore but hope that you'll regroup soon enough, running through a doorway and barricading it with a quick glance at the room and seeing that he's nowhere you can find.
Hence your position now. You have to be careful since you're in an uncharted section of the laboratory that you didn't study in depth like you had for the rooms that you planned for. Carefully, you get up from your position and walk. The atmosphere is not helpful, and it feels like the walls have eyes. You shoot down any security cameras you see and somewhere along the way, there's a safe room. 
There's nothing but a few boxes of ammo, a dusty old typewriter, and a plant that smells suspiciously like the vials of herbs that Leon had made you take all those weeks back. The thought makes your frown as you root out the plant from its pot. 
Your time in that snowy motel seems like such a lifetime ago. It's hard to believe that just last month, you were ready to kill him on sight. Between everything that's happened and all the emotions that have purged, this story of yours seems like just the beginning. Catharsis–or something like it. Now, you're ready to have a life with your sworn enemy just because you were stupid and fell in love. 
Who knows if Leon really was playing the long game or not?
Once you've checked and reloaded all of your guns, you step out of the safe room and back into the long hallway. The door at the end leads to some kind of boiler room and the heat only makes you more inclined to collapse. However, you push forward and take in the environment. 
There's a large pod-shaped machine in the middle exhausting steam and monitoring its pressure on the side, which would be the heater. All around is a metal platform that winds up upwards with stairs at every level, and there's no telling where the top door might lead to. Instead of dwelling too hard on it, you begin climbing. 
The lack of any enemies or things to shoot lets you know that any destruction to the boiler would probably be too large of a causality so they didn't want to risk the chance of the thing exploding. You're about halfway there when the hairs on your neck stand up and your gut pangs. 
You grab your knife and parry the incoming attack. 
The woman backs away, clearly surprised that you managed to sense her despite the silent stealth she employed. It takes about two seconds to recognize who it is and your blood runs cold. Ada blinks innocently, sheathing her knife and jutting out a hip. Expertly applied make-up refuses to run even under the heat and humid steam of the boiler room and infuriatingly, you understand why Leon might've been attracted to her in the past. 
"Ada," you say, hesitantly putting away your own weapon. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I see he's told you about me," she tuts, moving to walk past you. "All these years and he still can't let go of me."
You think she's just trying to get under your skin, and you follow her just to see what she might say. "How long have you known Leon?"
"Mm...We have a history. One I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."
You clench your jaw, reminding yourself that if it's a fight she wants, she'll have to work harder for it. What was the point in taunting you like this? Was it because of personal feelings that she had tried to get the jump on you earlier or was it part of a mission that she was on as well?
"You know," Ada begins, climbing another flight of stairs. "He's gotten good at acting–lying. He's not as predictable as he was before."
"So?" You reply irritably, ready to get away from her. 
"So you never know," she looks up wistfully, "he might be using you for information. When this is all said and done, Leon will get his hands on the data he needs and you'll be free from your contract. The business deal will be done and you can go your separate ways."
"Is that what you really think?" 
She looks back at you, something like pity or sadness in her eyes. "Maybe. I'm just trying to warn you before you do something you might regret."
You can't say anything about that. 
The two of you continue up the stairs until you finally reach the final door at the top. Upon opening it, you sigh in relief at the cold air and turn to find Ada isn't following. She only shakes her head slightly, backing away like she's disappointed or something.
Ada takes a deep breath in like she's trying to steel herself. "You're good for him. Better than I would've ever been. Don't fuck it up."
You open your mouth to retaliate, question what she means, promise you won't–maybe say something. You don't get the chance when she swivels around and vaults over the railing of the platform falling down and disappearing. You gasp, rushing forward to see call out for her, but the words die in your throat when you realize she's nowhere to be found. 
Left confused by the brief interaction, you glance back at the open door that leads into a narrow corridor. A lone door lies on the other side of it, and you try to remember if there was anywhere that it would lead to. However, you fail to, and decide that there’s really nowhere to go but ahead. You press forward, and the door to the boiler room slams shut behind you. 
You whip around, hearing the harsh click of a lock echoing through the small space.
You yank on the handle but to no avail. The thing’s bolted tightly.
An intercom crackles overhead and that voice that had spoken to you before when you and Leon had faced off the spider audibly clears the static.
“What do we have here?” they muse. “You two had better get to the main lab with all our fun little experiments. I’ve got a surprise–and perhaps you’ll find your way back to each other eventually. Don’t keep me waiting. Oh! Try not to die on the way, will you? It’s been a while since our animals have had a good hunt so I do hope you’ll be good sports and provide some much-needed entertainment.”
The static cuts off and rapid banging erupts from above. The sounds of the ventilation stagger and a shriek emits from the ceiling. You swap out your handgun for your reliable shotgun, making a beeline for the exit at the end of the corridor just as the door to the vent crashes down and you hit the floor to dodge the tentacle that comes flying at your head. 
You get a good look at what you’re up against–a pile of wet flesh that has eyes embedded into it like gems encrusted on a globe. Multiple limbs stretch outward from the main hub, wriggling hair-like tendrils spreading across the floor towards you rapidly. You get to your feet, breath coming out in ragged gasps. Your hands pump your shotgun and aim. When the hit lands, the thing screeches and puss explodes outward from its body. 
Being in such a confined space barely provides any advantages for you, and coupled with the fact that the mass of the bioweapon nearly takes up the entire corridor along with the lack of any environmental resources, it’s up to your combative prowess to get out of this one.
You grab an incendiary grenade and pull the pin. The fire is quick to make work of the thin tendrils on the floor and you sever the tentacle inching towards you from the side. You’re not quick enough to pivot around. A limb bashes into your torso and sends you flying, your ribs pulsating in pain as you slam on the ground. The concrete scratches your knees as you get up shakily, and you see your shotgun has landed a few feet away.
Upon not seeing you dead, the monster screams and focuses all of its efforts into trying to kill you. 
“Goddamnit,” you curse. “This isn’t good.”
You evade an oncoming attack, crying out when one tentacle wraps around your ankle and yanks. You fall on your back with a harsh thud and it begins dragging you towards the center where the monster opens up to reveal a mouth full of lines of rotating teeth. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you pull your knife and hack away at the restraint on your leg. The grip tightens enough so that you can feel the monster trying to crush your tibia and fibula together.
You have enough of it, dangerously close to the heated saliva of the bioweapon’s mouth. You stab your knife into the tentacle, and it splits  apart with a gush of hot blood. The shriek that emits from the mouth is enough to make your ears ring, but there’s no time to think about that now. 
Swapping out your submachine gun, you roll to your feet and begin targeting the spots where the tentacles source from. When they explode, the smell is so horrendous that you have to take the time to gag before reloading and letting the bullets do all the work. 
“You need a bath, buddy,” you mumble under your breath, wrinkling your nose in disgust. “Fuckin–this is what being an irresponsible pet owner does to a bitch.”
You sidestep another swipe and work on getting rid of the last few joints. Blood pours down the main body of the bioweapon and stains the floor beneath it, and as the last tentacle has been disarmed and popped, all that’s left is the main hub. 
It’s really unfortunate that you assumed it would be easy, but as the mouth closes suddenly, gurgles, then hurls a ball of acidic saliva at you, it proves that it won’t be as simple as you had hoped. 
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
The saliva leaves a burn bark in the ground and you know that it would be hot enough to melt the flesh right off your bones. You duck and roll, barely managing to avoid another shot for your head.
“I thought I wouldn’t have to play dodgeball after PE in highschool,” you groan, trading out your submachine gun for your hard hitting reliable magnum. “Alright, I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”
The next time the mouth opens up, you can see the glowing heart of the monster beating behind a thin wall of translucent flesh just at the back of its throat. You only get a few sections to work out a plan before it spits at you again, you use the time to jump out of the way before firing a couple of shots right into the heart. 
It shrieks but persists and you take the period after the next attack to reload your magnum as fast as you can. Fingers dance quickly as you push every bullet into a designated hole in the round, aiming, and emptying all of it into the heart as quickly as you can. Just to be safe, you take a hand grenade and launch it into the still-open mouth,
The monster seems to swallow it, trying to prepare another acid attack, but it doesn’t get the chance. You duck, shielding your head as the grenade detonates and erupts. Guts and eyeballs go flying everywhere, and blood spatters across your clothes and skin. The monster finally rolls over limply and stays down this time as you finally stand to breathe in gulps of air.
It feels like you’ve just run a marathon, and your ribs ache from when you had been thrown across the corridor, but at the best, it might have been bruised. It doesn’t feel like they’ve been broken at least, which really was the only positive side to this whole thing. The bad part is the fact that this gives you a taste of just what the J.I.E. had been working on this entire time, and that didn’t bode well if they managed to get farther along than what you just encountered.
You pick up your discarded shotgun and find you’d only been two bullets away from being empty. You’ll have to manage your inventory better the next time. Taking the time to reload everything and check through your belongings, you observe the cuts and scratches you obtained during the fight. It doesn’t seem too bad, all things considered, and you decide to wait on trying to eat the mysterious herb you had picked up before.
The lock clicks again and you try the door again to find that this time, it unlocks easily. 
On the other side, you find a more open space. The room holds large test tubes that line along the far left wall with bodies of people floating inside of them, and tubes connect to various points on their limbs. On the right are monitors that track the progression of every corresponding subject and you go to the nearest one.
You walk slowly, realizing that every one of them were incredibly similar in terms of appearance. They hold the same face shape, the same nose, the same skin color. There’s only minor differences between each of them like the curve of the upper lip not matching or the varying heights by a couple of inches, but in general, they remain fairly similar.
You travel to the other side of the room and work one of the monitors that list it’s for test subject number six. There were a few tabs you were able to access, including the general review of the experiment as a whole. The computer screen casts blue light as the report loads and your stomach drops upon seeing the title. 
"The (L/n) Project - Molecular Cloning Process
Two weeks since Agent (L/n) escaped the facility. She has left behind all devices and managed to disarm the tracking chips installed within her weapons. We suspect that the tracker we injected into her has been damaged as well–Mr. Williams theorizes it must have occurred during her fight with T-X108 and therefore, had rendered us unable to pin down her exact location. The search parties sent out have not managed to find her.
However, she has allowed us to go forth with the cloning process. Her rebellion had greenlighted the project, appropriately named The (L/n) Project as we try to replicate her favorable traits and create a bioweapon capable of her abilities and more. 
This project utilizes a mix of the T-Virus as well as the Las Plagas parasite to ensure total and absolute control over the subject. Many defects have been formed due to the incompatibility between the mix of the virus and plagas, however, Dr. Stills remains optimistic and claims that we need only to find the right combination. Our last resort only banks on the chance that (L/n) will return and will ensure her capture and re-initiation. 
Should we apprehend her within the lab, she will immediately be injected with a plagas egg. From then on, she will be kept in confinement until the parasite reaches full maturity. 
Until that time comes, we will continue the cloning process in hopes of favorable outcomes. We have already gotten this far. All it needs is time."
The files about the J.I.E. dabbling in cloning flash through your head, and your stomach jumps into your throat. You return back to the test tubes and swallow harshly, now seeing that those are your features being reflected back at you through the glass. Those things are supposed to be replicas of you–formations that they took of your DNA strands and molded into your image in hopes of replicating your performance on the battlefield but better. 
They've had plenty of chances at getting your DNA through blood work and any hairs you might have misplaced or left behind. Think about it, you had willingly provided them all the resources to your genetic code on a silver platter simply because you believed you were working for the greater good.
You back away, shaking nervously as terror fills your system. You need to find Leon and you need to do it now.
You start running, stumbling out of the room into one much larger. It's like a factory, walls whitewashed and outlined in varying glass containers that hold a multitude of different bioweapon shrieking and clawing to get out. In the center is a control board that seems to operate a giant claw. Whatever this shit is, it meant no good. 
A door flies open ahead and you gasp, looking up to see none other than Leon stumble through. You're about to call out to him until you see him hold the door just in time for somebody else to follow after. A woman, it looks like, and your chest boils with something sharp. She's not wearing the same red get up Ada had been in, so she must be somebody new. At least, you hope that's the case.
You back away, watching as they head down the stairs together and go straight for the control panel. Before one of them can touch anything, you come out, gun securely held as you nervously shout out to him. 
"Leon?" 
He whirls around immediately, but instead of his expression twisting into relief like you thought it would, it morphs into one of confusion. His features set into harsh stone as he loads his gun and aims it at you.
You stop in your steps toward him, slowly putting your own weapon back into its holster and putting your hands up in a surrendering position. Wondering why he would turn the gun on you now if all times, you think with a pang that this is where he might betray you and has alerted an accomplice to aid him in this final stretch of the mission. 
This is soon cleared when the person walks out from behind him and you find you staring at yourself. 
"Leon," the fake you says, all nervous and matching your pitch perfectly. "This must be what they were talking about–with the cloning."
A bitter taste fills your mouth, insulted that this copycat would even have the audacity. "You would know since you're one of them," you snap, turning your attention to him. "Please, you've got to believe me–you've been traveling with a clone."
"Stop trying to manipulate him!" The clone's eyes shine with fake tears and you scowl. 
Leon hesitates, strung between two identical people and you can't believe they somehow created the perfect replica. How they even managed it is beyond you, but what matters is that there was a chance Leon could accidentally kill you without knowing it until it was too late. How could he handle it if his intuition is the very thing that had kept you alive and killed you all at once?
“Don’t fall for it,” the clone frowns, forehead wrinkling just in the same way yours did when you were determined about something. "She's just trying to trick you so we'll get separated again."
"You're one to talk," you seethe, knowing that losing your temper right now was akin to fighting a losing battle.
"Leon," she croons, circling around to look him in the eyes earnestly, "don't you remember all those nights we spent together? How free it felt to finally love me openly after all this time?"
He softens but only slightly, the grip on his gun loosens as he hears her recount the events of something so recent. 
"I've loved you for so long and didn't even know it," she says, so open and vulnerable like a mirror to your own emotions. It was eerie and creepy in a way you loathed, unsettling just how it was to see a reflection of yourself sweet talking the man you love. "Shall I tell you when I first admitted that I love you so that I can prove it really is me?"
She doesn't even wait for an answer before she's leaning in and whispering in his ear. Whatever she says, it must be something wild judging by the way his face flushes so violently crimson. Usually, it's you doing all that work, knowing what subjects will make his face burn in such a way that it's nearly impossible not to cradle it just to feel the heat beneath your palms. However, it's not you this time, and the fact makes you want to throw up and gag at the sight of it.
When the clone leans away, she scrutinizes his face before letting her expression fall. "You still don't believe me fully."
"I can't make a mistake."
"Then ask us a question," the clone suggests suddenly, matching your tone and body language down to a T as if you really just had a bright idea. "One only the real (Y/n) would know."
Leon's eyes turn focused, looking between the two of you trapped in front of him in similar stances. Really, what could he ask that the clone wouldn't know? She had apparently inherited all of your memories–all of the time you spent in the motel leading up to this second had been meticulously recorded. 
"When did we first meet?" He finally asks. "When did we really first meet?"
"Operation Counterpoint," the clone says immediately as if this were some twisted game show. "You caught me on an espionage mission gaining intel on Umbrella through your own mission. You almost killed me that day."
Leon looks at you and the raw emotion in his eyes as he waits for your answer makes you falter. You always knew him better than anybody–knew the things that made him tick and do the things he did better than you know your own quirks. You hope that intuition doesn't fail you now, needing it more than ever in this bizarre situation. Leon asked a simple question, but something underlined it. He was looking for something else–something more.
You understand what he's asking and you duck your head.
"When you saw my scars," you say quietly and nothing but the hum of electricity could be heard like the atmosphere had sucked in a breath and was holding it. "When you found out what the J.I.E. had been doing to me–how they were hurting me, that's…that's when we met. When we really first met."
Leon pivots and shoots the clone in the head, the throat, then the heart and as she falls to the floor, he reaches for you.
You sag in relief as you let yourself fall into his arms. The tension drains from your body as you find yourself in the clear once again. Leon–your rival, mortal enemy, and savior–pulls you to his chest in a real hug that you melt into. You haven't felt the warmth of an embrace from anyone but yourself in years before him–didn't allow yourself to. You suspect that he's just the same, or perhaps even more, starved of the touch than you were
His arms wrap across your back, pulling you right into the space that has become reserved for you against his body. His hold on you is so firm that it would take an army just to get him to release you from his sweet embrace. To be fair, you're not keen on leaving it anytime soon.
"Oh, sweet girl," he mumbles against your hair, grip tightening as if he'd rather die than let you go. "Angel, is it you? Tell me, please–please."
"It's me," you reassure as genuinely as you can. "Leon, you did good–you did so good. Thank you, oh my god."
The tension from the situation dissipates as you relish in the feeling of being alive and well. You can feel him shaking and you pull away only slightly just to get a good look at his face. Leon never cries even though he's seen a fair share of your tears and you've seen the nightmares that plague him every time his insomnia lets up and allows him to sleep. Now, you see that familiar well of hot saltwater welling beneath his eyelids and your heart hurts for what confliction he must have gone through while making his choice. 
You wipe them away before they even have the chance to make a track down your cheeks and his forehead presses onto yours desperately. 
“Leon, we have to keep going,” you prod, however just as reluctant to let him go. “We have to make it out of here together, okay?”
He lingers stubbornly and you think you might have to walk with him wrapped around you but he manages to pull away all the same and nods. You know he’s back with you now on a level head and that things were very possibly going to be okay again. You’ll live to see the day, and that was a true promise that passed wordlessly between the two of you.
Together, you approach the control panel and begin operating the system to tell you what has been happening.
Every single creature on the wall is registered to a number and every one contains at least one or more virus or parasite. Some of them mix together the T-virus and Las Plagas, even going as far to see if the plagas and Uroboros could be compatible somehow. The creatures maintain some sort of semblance of what they once were, ranging from rats to dogs to humans. 
This is more fucked up than you could ever have imagined. While the binder you had gotten had prepared you somewhat, even then, they only had one page of review and. This was the whole report, elaborately written for each of the bioweapons they had been creating.
“What the fuck could they be doing this for?” Leon mumbles angrily under his breath as he sifts through file after file.
“They wanted to take the bioweapon war to Umbrella,” you reply, nudging aside his hands so you can pull up the command prompt for the system. “With enough power, they could take down the pharmaceutical company and be revered as heroes for the anti-terrorism.”
“But the government would’ve shut them down the same way they did Umbrella.”
“Not quite.”
You enter in the string that brings up an overview of the J.I.E.’s plans, letting Leon read through it as you pull out an external hard drive to plug into the USB port hidden discreetly away from the open. Beginning to copy the information that was showing on screen, Leon sighs and catches your attention. 
“They’re gearing towards the favor of the public,” he realizes and you nod. “And this whole plan is why…”
“Why I left, yes.” You select all of the creature reports and start uploading them on the drive while talking. “They think that bringing a whole entire war to the companies is the only way to deal with them–they don’t think about civilians or people or the moral justice of those who do wrong. They want the advantage, which makes them no fucking better than Umbrella or Tricell or anybody else.”
“Who’s behind all of this? Do you know?”
You take a deep breath, trying not to think about what names or relations meant to you–especially higher ups who didn’t know how to keep their nose out of other people’s business. “Mr. Williams is the head of the J.I.E.–the one who made the company and announced its making under the false pretenses of making the world a better place. He built it on the trust of those who witnessed him jailing a couple criminals until he successfully apprehended an Umbrella team member. He was revered, and the J.I.E. received a lot of funds for his deed.”
“But?”
“But he’s been disillusioned ever since.” You look up at him seriously, taking his hand and clasping it between your palms. “Leon, promise me that if he manages to make an appearance, we run. He’s charismatic and knows how to get underneath your skin–you won’t get anything out of talking to him.”
“You’re sure about this?” he asks, squeezing your hand back gently.
“One hundred percent.”
Leon nods, trusting you. “Then we’ll run.”
The next moments are spent analyzing the creatures in the glass cases. You can see the wriggling parasites beneath the bronze flesh of some of the animals, stretching from Las Plagas to Uroboros to other possible variations. The animals with viruses don't have any wriggling tendrils but they do still snarl and rot from the inside out. It's disturbing, knowing that this was all right under your nose while you'd been willingly working for the J.I.E. 
When the hard drive is finished uploading the reports, you navigate away from the experiments and instead turn your focus onto the U.S. government. Leon makes a noise of confusion upon seeing you type in the buzzwords, but is effectively silenced when you open a file that introduces the world of hacking. There were so many files about getting through firewalls and securities that it's almost impossible to believe that they kept track of all of it. 
"This is how they're bypassing the protections the government has been putting up," you tell him, cutting and pasting all of the files. "With this, you can fortify it."
Leon doesn't say anything, just simply pulls you closer by the wait and kisses the crown of your head. You can't tell what he's thinking right now, but if anything, you're glad you can help him. He looks like he has something on his mind and you almost ask what he's thinking about, but instead resign to let him have his moment instead.
When you have all the information you need and have stopped needing to upload things to the hard drive, you unplug it and tug it into your bag. Together, the two of you start making your way to one of the exits you theorized. Sure, you might not be able to find the entrance you came through by means of the dressing room but at the very least, you could find a way out.
There's a dizzying amount of doors to get through and everything seems to be going fine. Nobody's come for your head yet and there's no monsters that have fallen from the ceiling looking for blood just yet. 
It's only when you make your way to one of the first floors that a strange clicking sound is heard and you and Leon halt to pull out your guns. It's reflectively dark so you have to click on a flashlight just to be able to see a small portion around you. The mysterious noise seems to be coming from ahead behind a crate of boxes and since there's no telling what it might be, the two of you proceed with caution.
Your footsteps are light, breaths even lighter. You monitor yourself in the way a doctor might, and the adrenaline already begins building. You approach the crate, lift your leg, and kick it in.
When the boards crumble, a shriek is heard, and you barely manage to dodge and roll out of the way of the humanoid that lunges for you. The figure screams, dressed in rags and streaked with dirt. One good look at it makes your heart twist harshly upon recognizing it: it's one of the failed clones, evident by the way her cheek is rotted away to show the inner workings of her mouth and her eyes are a stained color that vaguely reflects yours. Larvae wriggle within her gums and she stumbles to her feet, groaning incoherently as she sets her sights on you. 
"The fuck?" Leon hisses. "What is that thing?"
"It's one of the failed clones," you provide, aiming your gun again. "C'mon, let's get this over with."
You shoot the clone in the eye, blood spattering outward from the socket. She feels back with a mangled noise, clutching the wound as Leon takes his chance. He approaches rapidly, plants his foot, and roundhouse kicks the clone into the wall hard enough that her neck completely snaps from the impact. 
You whistle lowly. Showoff. 
"Overkill," you tut, shining the flashlight over the dismembered body that refuses to move even when you prod it with the toe of your boot. "It's probably safe to assume they've got a million more of these just lying around so let's proceed with caution, shall we?"
"Roger that."
The two of you press forward, coming across more defects that are bursting through the seams with incompatible parasites. Some explode outward with grotesque flesh and wriggling limbs that you have to shoot down while others seek to take a bite from your neck. Leon covers your back and you watch out for his, and together, you fight your way through the failed mirrors of yourself. 
You come upon a main lab that's circular in shape, guns held defensively and on high alert. It's strangely silent considering you'd just come from a room full of monsters and shrieking clones with skin melting off their bodies. 
You walk forward, finding a circular platform in the middle set up like a stage and metal stairs line around the whole thing. You're about to turn around to ask Leon what he thinks this room could be used for but you're suddenly grabbed from behind. A scream leaves your throat as you thrash, and Leon shouts your name. The cold barrel on a gun presses to your temple and an arm clasps around your neck as a sleazy yet familiar voice spits in your ear. 
"I suggest you stop struggling or I'll kill you right fucking now."
You stop, but choke upon seeing Leon being apprehended by a bunch of soldiers dressed in gear marked with the J.I.E. logo. He's strong, but certainly not enough to break from them as they pull and hold his hands behind his back. 
"Please," you whisper, barely able to breathe from the grip that's across your throat. "Don't hurt him."
"You know I don't run things like that," Williams snears. "Especially from dogs like you. You just couldn't sit still and be obedient, could you (L/n)?"
You scowl, fighting against him to breathe in before he shuts off your airways again. "You know I'd rather die than lick the boots of some greaseball who thinks he's some big head honcho hotshot."
"You never know when to fucking shut up, do you?!" The gun presses harsher to your temple and you squeeze your eyes shut. "Drop your weapons and this will all go a lot smoother."
This situation seems too against you, too harsh. Maybe you should comply for now, give them the ultimatum of taking you and sparing his life. You'd do it without question, but who's to say they won't kill you before he can make it back to you? You drop everything from your bag to your guns to your knife, and completely give up. Upon feeling you give up and going slack in his arms, Williams lets you stand, slowly letting go as to make sure you won't run. After all, he's got six soldiers pointing automatics trained at your body to make sure you don't try to do anything. He scoffs, laughing at your pathetic state before turning his attention to Leon who's refusing to remain still or quiet.
“Stay away from her!” Leon screams, pushing against the arms that hold him back, barely able to restrain his lean muscular body. Your chest tugs as if magnetizing you to him and your eyes sting with hot tears. “You put one fucking finger on her, I’ll kill you!”
“Oh?” Williams taunts and he raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Leon Kennedy defending (Y/n) (L/n)? My ears must be deceiving me.”
If looks could kill, everybody in the room would be dead with the way Leon’s eyes darkened. A hand touches back and you instinctively jerk away before roughly being tugged closer. Somewhere, chains clink and your whole posture goes rigid.
“The perfect soldier we could never replicate,” Williams muses, pressing a firm hand to the scars that shape your backside. “Not without discipline, of course.”
The room falls silent as Leon processes his words. 
"You're dead," he spits venom, dripping with promise. "I'm going to kill you and I'll make it fucking hurt, motherfucker."
"Don't listen to him," Williams waves Leon off as if he were just some bothersome fly before focusing his attention on you. "Haven't we taught you anything, Agent (L/n)? This fool doesn't love you. At the very best, you're just some lively entertainment for him before leaving you in a cold bed in the morning." 
Leon thrashes even more violently than before. You keep your eyes on the concrete beneath your feet. 
"You can't save him the same way you couldn't even save yourself."
"Shut up!" Leon's desperation leaks so candidly though his voice. "(Y/n)! Don't listen to him!"
"Oh, she'll listen to me," Williams circles around, forcing your head up with an iron clasp around your jaw as his face comes into view. "Dogs don't like to be chained up and beat, after all, don't you know?"
You curl in disgust when he lets go, and he continues up the steps to look down on the spectacle beneath him. Just as you told Leon, it's always power he wants, and now is more apparent than ever. 
"Mr. Kennedy, listen to me." You know he doesn't want to hear another word from the man's mouth. "I don't like to do things like this, you know. But, the girl you act like you love so much is more than just the foolhardy agent you've met on the battlefield."
Leon knows you better than that. He knows the way you cry and laugh and love. He knows how willing you'd be to take a bullet to the heart for him in the same way he'd put his head in a guillotine for you. Williams doesn't know the extent of your love, doesn't understand it. He might still believe you hate each other given your past passive aggressive reports on him–but it's clear as day that those feelings have changed since you attempted to cut ties with the J.I.E.
"She's special, isn't she?" Williams croons as if he thinks praise will have you sitting at his feet like a loyal little lapdog. "However, she still has killed so many of your allies–even almost you. Is that something you'll let go of so easily? She could be a traitor trying to get under your skin. She could be our specially engineered clone and you had killed the very real one. How do you know that she's loyal? Certainly, if she wasn't loyal to the very company she agreed to contract to, she'll never be loyal to you."
"You're insane," Leon spits. "Of course she wouldn't want to stick with the guy who's ordered her to be fucking abused into submission. Do you treat all your agents like this or just her?"
"(L/n) is special, like I said. Every special agent deserves special treatment, don't you think?"
Leon glowers. "You'll regret saying that."
Williams just his chin out. "And what makes you think that?"
The lights power down with a groan. The insistent humming drone of electricity stalls and goes silent. The emergency lights fail to come on. The darkness is black enough that you can't even see your hand in front of your face. 
A gun cocks and your heart drops. 
"Get down!"
You hit the floor as bullets start ringing through the air. It's wild, confusing, and you don't know what's happening or why. Your breaths start coming out in panicked puffs as you cover your head, and stay on the ground. Somewhere, someone screams and the blast of a shotgun is heard. The soldiers are commandeering orders and radio static voices are heard all over the place. 
Somebody touches your shoulder and you gasp, scrambling away from them, feet kicking blindly until they're held down. You almost scream before a comforting voice talks to you in a low tone and cuts all those defenses short.
"Sweetheart–baby–it's just me, don't worry,” Leon's thoughts run a million miles a second and they translate easily to his tongue and out his mouth, “C'mon, get up, we have to go. I can carry you if you can't walk on your own. Shit, he didn't hurt you too bad, did he?" 
You can't form a coherent thought but merely wrap your arms around him with a sob, too keyed up and overwhelmed with everything that's happening around you. Why did the power go out? Did Williams escape in the mess? Who was behind everything that was happening?
"It's okay," Leon soothes, gathering you up in your arms and you feel the floor leave from beneath you, "C'mon, we're getting out of here."
"What…"
"You can ask later. For now, we're leaving."
You bury your head into his chest and let him take you away to wherever he chose fit. The world seems like a blur as more men start shouting over the blasts of gunshots and Leon does his best to get the two of you out. You hear a hum running as lights dance behind your eyelids. Time seems to drag on and flash by in a second as Leon's body jostles beneath yours until eventually, you feel him jump and the roar of an engine fills your ears. 
You open your eyes as he sets you down on a stiff bench, vision blurry as you watch him leave. You don't know where he had taken you or if he'd ever be back, but weakly, you want to reach out for him. There's no energy in your body, exhausted from fighting for so long. People are still shouting and the smell of gunpowder invades your nose. 
You fight to stay conscious, afraid that if you sleep, you might not be able to wake up. Before, you'd been vehemently unafraid of death, but now? Now you're terrified of it. 
Leon comes back into your view, and he seems conflicted, but nonetheless is here. He gently moves your body so that you rest on his lap comfortably, your head nestled against his collarbone as he starts rubbing the palm of his hand across your head. You can still hear the screaming, the gunshots, the blood and pain. 
It feels like you're staying between life and death, back on an island and being with Leon.
"Sweet girl," Leon says just loud enough for you to hear against your hair–the first nickname he ever seriously used with you. "You've been fighting all on your own for too long. Let me take care of you."
Unable to hold back, you allow the tears to spill over at the weight of the truth his proclamation holds. How long has it been since someone's held you like this? Has anybody ever held you like this?
"You can rest," he croons gently. "I've got you, baby. You can let yourself go." 
A lifetime ago, it would have sounded like poisoned words from a wolf in sheep's clothing. But now? 
Now it kind of sounds like he loves you.
And that's perfectly alright with you.
✧ ˚  ·    .
During the entire time since you showed up at the motel, Leon had been in close contact with the president back at the white house. You feel like you should have known, would’ve thought it was obvious, but he was very good at distracting you at the best of times.
Leading up to your final stand against the J.I.E., he’d been arranging a squad to be ready on standby in case anything went wrong. When you’d been grabbed, he’d sent out the signal for them to be able to track him down just before he’d been apprehended. The B.S.A.A. was ready, and they successfully cut the power and utilized their nighttime equipment to navigate the sudden battlefield. 
Williams had been captured and taken in for questioning. That much had put your heart to rest.
Leon had ordered an escape chopper, which is what he had carried you into in those final moments. Surely, things must have been more intense for him but you’d been so out of your element that you had completely shut down. A trauma response, maybe, from having to face the possibility that you would die that day.
You stand in the waiting room, wearing a nice little dress as you fiddle with the dark black hard drive in your hands. Your nerves won’t allow you to sit down or rest to any capacity and you anxiously blow out a breath. This moment would determine your future for the rest of your days. Maybe you’d be sent to jail for a lifetime to atone for your crimes against them, but you know Leon wouldn’t let that happen.
The door unlocks and a young man in a stiff suit waves you in. “Miss (L/n). They’re ready for you.”
You nod nervously, take one more deep breath, and enter the office.
The president is already there, hands folded stiffly on the desk as Leon stands to attention behind him. Right now, it was nothing but business, and you shakily nod your head. Reminding yourself that this is a lot more than the times you reported to Williams, you wipe your clammy hands on the back of your dress.
“Good morning, Mr. President,” you say, and thank the heavens when your voice doesn't crack.
The president only smiles non-threateningly, and motions to a chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat–and do loosen up, please. We’re just here to have a conversation, nothing life-changing.”
“Sorry, sir.”
He laughs not unkindly as you take your seat and clasp onto the hard drive in your lap for dear life. 
“From what I understand, you’ve been working with Agent Kennedy for the past month or so, yes?” 
“Correct,” you answer. “The Justice for Inhumane Experimentalists had been keeping me under a contract to pledge my mind, body, and soul to them and when I differed from their plans to begin a bioweapon war, they nearly killed me. I managed to escape and track the coordinates Mr. Kennedy was at."
"I see." The president nods to the hard drive in your hands. "May I?" You slide it over to him and he turns it over in his hands briefly before smiling. "You've done us a great service today, Miss (L/n). For that I would like to formally pardon you from any and all offenses."
A huge weight is lifted from your shoulders as you breathe out in relief. "Thank you."
"Although…" he interjects. "We would rather have you put under watch, which is why you'll be staying with Agent Kennedy for a couple of weeks. I'm sure there's no objections?"
"None at all, sir."
"Good," the president smiles. "There's one more matter I'd like to discuss before I let you go."
You steel yourself for the worst. "Yes?"
"I'd like to personally extend an invitation to you to join the D.S.O. as Agent Kennedy can show you the ropes and you'd fit right in." Your mouth drops open. "Of course, you don't have to accept, but it would be the best option for you right now and we'd hate to lose such a capable soldier who's survived enough things that would kill the average person."
"I…" You look at Leon who only looks back at you with a blank expression, but you can practically hear him begging in your head. 
"You'd be helping people–for real." The president looks at you earnestly. "And surely, you'll get many more benefits than the J.I.E. had granted you. From what I hear, you didn't even have time off."
You think about it, about how the trajectory of your life is changing now. What would happen if you said yes? If you said no? Surely there was no life for you outside these four walls, but could you really afford keeping on going with agent work? You look at Leon again, biting your tongue. You're a ruinous person–scum of the earth. But…if he thinks you can be redeemed then…
"It would be an honor to join, sir," you answer.
The president smiles. "Then you're dismissed. Do be sure to rest up, will you?"
You get up as Leon walks forward and motions you to follow. Dutifully, you trail behind him as the president waves a little goodbye on your way out. The weight of the world lifts from your shoulders as you breathe out in relief when the door closes behind you and Leon immediately slips his hand into yours.
"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He chides.
"Actually, it was horrible," you correct. "I don't think I've ever been scared shitless in my entire life."
Leon laughs, pulling you along to where his little sedan is waiting in the parking lot. You’re sure that if you hadn’t been driving, he would've crashed it upside down in a ditch somewhere while he walked out fine. It seemed like something Leon would do.
He takes you to his home, an expensive apartment overlooking the District of Columbia that he claims he only had because it’s near the office and that meant less driving for him. You call him a dork and roll your eyes but feel that adoration for him simmer just under your heartbeat. 
While you shower, he orders food and claims he’ll help you settle in after you’ve had something to eat. 
When he finds you staring listlessly out the window to his balcony, he comes up from behind and rests his head on your shoulder, arms winding mindlessly around your waist and sighing peacefully when you lean back into him. It’s oddly domestic and comfortable, and it’s something you don’t want to let go of.
"This is temporary, isn't it?" You mumble brokenly, thinking about what Ada had said back at the lab. "You don't really…you don't."
Leon's eyebrows knit together in confusion as he cups your face and turns your head so that you're forced to meet his eyes. "What gave you that idea?" 
"If you just want me for the pleasure, you can say it," heart twisting painfully as tears well hotly in your eyes. "You can tell me. I can let go."
"No, no," he chastises, holding you close like the nonexistent distance between your bodies was enough to kill him. "When our job is done, we'll go wherever you want. No matter what."
"You don’t get it, Leon," you sigh, pulling away from his grasp. It feels like you're tearing your soul apart. "I've always been unlovable. No matter what I said or what I did, I always ended up alone–and I can't bear to get attached to someone who doesn't reciprocate the way I want them to. I can't do that to you."
He doesn't talk for a moment, frowning upon seeing your hands massaging into your upper arms. Self-soothing, and the feeling of your own touch makes a sad sort of feeling gather in your chest like dew collecting on leaves on crisp early mornings.
"(Y/n)," Leon murmurs your name with so much emotion behind it that you almost start crying all over again. "You know I love you, right?"
The whole world seems to stop.
"For infinity. Forever," he turns you around from your position and reaches out, hand waiting for your own. When you hesitantly rest your palm in his, warmth radiates from his body into yours. "You're not unlovable. Never in a million years. Not if I have anything to say about it."
You really can't hold back the tears now and his other hand comes up, thumbing them away as they cascade. 
You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to kiss him properly, unable to vocalize just how much his affirmation meant to you.
Leon kisses you like he needs you to exist. His hands rake across your body and your skin tingles with anticipation. When had you gotten to the point where the line between hatred and need blurred so intensely? When did you start needing his touch to be able to function properly? When did you start craving Leon in the ways that you would have loathed just a few months prior?
You love him, infinitely and eternally. Who knows what the road ahead holds for you both? But, as he carries you to his bedroom and closes the door tightly, you find you’re not as afraid of the future as you had already been.
An angel, fallen from grace. 
But, if this is the consequence, then hey.
You’re not one to complain.
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ctitan98official · 1 month
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Anonymous: can we get RL!bela as a mom hcs?
Resident Lover Bela would be such a good mama T^T Here’s what I got! Reader, as in all of my works, is gender-neutral. Let’s get into it!
Bela’s always wanted children of her own. She feels so deeply and holds an insatiable need to nurture.
Cass and Dani will be the first to agree that she was a very doting big sister when they were growing up. She always made them play house and insisted on being the mom.
Bela sheepishly brings up the idea of wanting to have a baby with you one night after you give her some… Loving. She can’t even look at you to see your reaction, she’s so embarrassed.
However, you surprise her and nod after thinking for a moment. “Cool,” You say with a nonchalant grin.
Bela gives you the most breathtaking smile. She bawls on your shoulder for a good 30 minutes before insisting that the two of you get to… “Work”.
It’s the sexiest emotional whiplash you’ve ever had.
Bela is the type to take pregnancy tests every week and meticulously tracks her cycle to make sure you two are trying at the most opportune times.
When she finally does become pregnant, she makes you read ALL the baby books. (She’s already read them multiple times herself).
She gives you detailed instructions on how to create the nursery and what paint colors to use, but pretty much leaves you to create it yourself… Except when it comes to buying and shopping for things. She loves that part.
She keeps to a strict diet and makes sure to take all of the supplements she needs without fail. Her baby deserves the best.
She cries. A lot. At cute things mostly.
You woke up once in the middle of the night to find her sobbing next to you in bed. What was she crying about you may ask?
A pack of baby socks Alcina sent over that look like animals.
“Itty-bitty pigggiiiiesss!“ Bela squeals, imagining her little one wearing a pair that has pigs all over them.
You laugh and wrap an arm around her. She’s adorable like this. "No need to cry, babe!” You tell her with a smile.
But… Oh. I forgot to mention that Bela also has the most intense mood swings ever. She promptly accuses you of thinking she’s being hysterical and kicks you out of the room for the night.
Yeah… You’ve had to sleep on the couch a few times because she got the wrong idea.
When Bela finally goes into labor, she is oddly calm compared to how she has acted all throughout her pregnancy.
It kind of reminds you of how stoic she was when you first met her on the student council (Which scares you a bit, to be honest).
But she is a champ and you both welcome a beautiful baby girl into the world.
Bela once again bursts into tears when she holds her daughter for the first time.
Bela decided on her name, Ruby, right after she found out she was having a girl. You didn’t get a say, but you love it too. Bela’s favorite color is red and it fits your little one so well.
Bela is obsessed with her new daughter. You have to beg her to let you hold the baby. She looks like she wants to kick your ass when you hold out your hands to take her for the first time. “She’s mine,” She growls at you and holds Ruby tighter.
“I want a turn, Bela! I helped make her too… Sorta,” You whine.
The look Bela gives you at this statement definitely shuts you up… For a little while, at least. You just keep bugging her until she finally relents. “Ugh! Fine!” She pouts, gently kissing Ruby and handing her over.
She’s grumpy about losing any time with her baby, however, as she looks at you holding your daughter for the first time, her heart absolutely melts. The quiet awe on your face as you look at Ruby makes her, you guessed it, cry again.
Bela rarely sleeps for the first week of Ruby’s life. Even when the baby is sleeping, Bela is content to just sit and rock her in the nursery instead of getting some much-needed sleep.
You love to walk in and see Bela singing to Ruby in the middle of the night while she nurses her. She looks up at you and beams as you come to sit next to her and the little one.
“Such a good mama,” You softly praise her and kiss her head.
This makes Bela’s cheeks blush heavily. (*Ahem* This woman has a praise kink, no doubt)
As Ruby gets bigger, Bela has to be the disciplinarian because you are honestly too much of a pushover. But, Bela is nothing if not infinitely fair if she has to give Ruby a punishment. Ruby rarely gets into trouble and is a well-behaved kid, though… It’s all thanks to Bela’s even-tempered approach.
But, Good Lord. Bela is a helicopter mom. Holy shit. She supervises just about everything Ruby does. And… It’s fair to say that Ruby is definitely a mama’s girl because of this.
Bela loves nothing more than to cuddle with you and Ruby after she comes home from work. It’s a routine, actually.
Before you all eat dinner together, mandatory snuggles take place on the couch while you three catch up and talk about your days.
Note: I had a blast writing this! I want to do more head canons like these for Resident Lover XD Thanks for reading!
Masterlist
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royallyprincesslilly · 10 months
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Title: Love Will Remember {One Shot}
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Title: Love Will Remember {One-Shot}
Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Words: 13.5k
Warning: High Angst, Heartbreak, Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS, Mild NSFW References, Mentions of Pregnancy, FWB Gone Wrong, PLOT HEAVY, Time Jump
Summary: You and Lewis had an agreement, nothing but sex. It was an easy agreement to adhere to but somewhere along the line things changed as did your feelings. What now?
Note: Here we are again with over 7k words.🥴 This started one way and then took an interesting turn toward the middle. I hope you enjoy this. Also, I have nothing against Chelsea.🤣
Note II: I promise to do better by Tyrone Mings in a separate fic.🤞🏽 He needs his own fic.
As always, thank you for reading.
If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!
***NOT Edited/Proofread***
~~~~~~~
"I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you. From the second I looked into your eyes I saw it," he dejectedly said.
"Saw what?"
"How innocent you were. So fucking innocent," he spat as if the words burned his tongue.
"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this," he added.
Your heart sank which made your bottom lip tremble. What did you say to that? What could you say? The silence in the room stretched on and on. You wanted to say sorry but sorry didn't feel right. Who apologized for telling someone they loved them? Who apologized for such a pure and selfless emotion?
The longer the silence stretched with his back still to you, the more you felt pathetic and stupid. You regretted telling him. You weren't supposed to fall for him. It made no logical sense why you would in the beginning so simple fucking seemed like an easy deal.
Then you got to know him. He lowered his walls inch by inch, allowing you to see more and more of himself. You saw the loyal and loving son he was, the supportive and helpful sibling, the kind and gentle uncle, the intelligent and diligent businessman, and the sweet, passionate, and attentive lover. With all of that, it had practically happened without you knowing until it was too late.
Then the words slipped from you at probably one of the worst times when Lewis was balls deep inside you, giving you the "fall in love with me" long and deep strokes. He heard them the moment you said them, and it was evident because his entire body tensed. You'd came but you were almost sure he hadn't. Seconds later, he'd pulled out and looked at you with horror. 
"You said..."
"I know," you replied, not needing him to finish his sentence.
"Jesus," he pushed out just under his breath, but you heard it in the stark silent room.
"Look I’m sorry I couldn't control my feelings and remain cold and unfeeling like you."
Lewis spun around to face you so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.
"Don’t. Don’t do that. It’s unfair."
You knew it but didn’t care. You were frustrated now.
"I didn’t plan this. Hell, I sure as fuck didn’t expect it and I definitely didn’t mean to tell you. I just...I--."
You didn’t know what else to say and the moment your eyes met his you could read him clear as a book. He didn't feel the same. It wasn’t something shocking. You hadn't ever expected him to feel what you did. In the sea of women he’d been with, you were so different.
Whereas they were drop-dead gorgeous and bodacious with lines of men chasing them and perfectly beaten faces at all hours of the day and a wardrobe to rival the queens of the monarchs you’d never fit that bill. You were labeled a tomboy, considered to be one of the guys because of your interest in sports, not anti-makeup but definitely inexperienced compared to your other friends. Hell, you were inexperienced in a lot of things.
You never felt like you could hold men captivated. It wasn’t until Lewis had you seen a flicker of that. He was right. You were innocent. He was the 2nd man you’d slept with in your life and even he’d had to teach you several things about pleasure. It was embarrassing in the beginning, and you were sure after a few months he’d tire of you, but 3 months passed then 6 then 9, and before you knew it a year had ticked by, and he was still steadily seeing you. You were confused, but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth?
Lewis sighed again, a deep, heavy, woeful sigh and you knew what he was going to say.
"We can't...I can't--. "
Just as you were going to open your mouth to stop him, his phone rang. It was an interruption you were thankful for.  You didn’t think you could stomach the words.
"Hang on," Lewis said standing in his nakedness. He picked up the phone and you took a moment to look over his body.
It would be the last time you would see it. You didn’t think you were living some fairytale or a modern version of Pretty Woman, sans the sex worker trope. You knew not to expect happily ever afters. Those were things of fiction. This was the end of your time together. He was just about to say the words.
The tattoos that decorated his back held you mesmerized. You could still feel the muscles hidden under that beautiful golden bronzed flesh. The very muscles that spoke of how much power truly resided within him. Your fingertips remembered how they danced under them. It was etched to memory by now and you knew it would be hell to forget it.
When Lewis walked to the bathroom, you snapped back to the here and now. You sat there for a few moments, grabbed a pillow, and cried into it hoping it muffled any sound you might make. You didn’t want him to see this. Not only was it embarrassing but for some reason you felt shame. You’d never thought that when you agreed to no strings attached fun with Lewis that you’d feel shame about it. Now that shame burned within you.
After allowing yourself a minute or two to cry you dried your cheeks and got up to get dressed. You’d read the room and the writings on the wall, and you knew what you had to do. You had to walk away first. Seeing his back as it got further and further away would break you. At least this way, you could retain some of your dignity.
In under 3 minutes you’d gotten dressed and gathered your things. Lewis was still in the bathroom, and you took the opening. Hesitating at the door your tears returned.
"Get a grip, Y/N."
You walked over to the notepad beside the bed and scribbled what was under the hurt you were feeling.
Lewis,
Grateful for the blessings, memories, and time we spent together, and thankful for the lesson. I’ll keep your secrets and in that you can trust. I wish you endless success and luck.
-Y/N
With that, you walked out of the suite with your head held high and back straight as your tears streamed down your face.
~~~~~~~~~~~
-Two and ½ Years Later-
-Lewis-
"There she goes everyone. In the last 2 years, her skill have really gone into overdrive. She went from 18th in the league to 1st. Her stats rival some of the best in the sport. Here she goes setting up the goal. Her signature move is to pass it to the left while her team guards and blocks before McMullen will head butt it over for her to cut through the other team bringing it right up to the face of the goalie before she effortlessly beams it in."
"She has perfected this move and does not miss. If Chelsea has done their homework, hopefully, they have figured out a way to stop her."
"They would be the first. Somehow Y/N has made this move undefendable over the last 2 years. It really shows her grind to become this force of nature. Her teammates always say she’s first in training and the last to leave. She lives, eats, and breathes the sport and that dedication shows."
"Oh, oh here she goes! The pass! The defense by Arsenal here is incredible. This is one of their strong areas. No one is getting by which sets Y/N up to part the team on the left and here she goes!”
The stadium was so loud it was impossible to make out any understandable speech.
"She is so good at intimidation, and we see it here. There's the ball she really likes to bounce it off her chest then knees and--.”
The referee blew his whistle, stopping play because of an offense by a Chelsea player. Then it happened out of nowhere.
"Ooooooh!”
The stadium echoed the sound then it all went silent. Now even a referee's yellow card could be heard dropping to the grass.
He leaped to his feet from his location in the box seats he'd bought years ago to ensure he always had a spot to watch your home games when he was home. He couldn’t see you through the huddle most of your teammates had around you while a few others brawled with the other team.
Even he knows that was a foul move. The game wasn’t even in play. It was clearly a move to take you out of the game. Everything in him wanted to run from his box down to the field but he remained there. His legs planted unable to move them. He had no right. It had been almost 3 years since you truly interacted rather than seeing each other across a room or in the audience of an award ceremony. 3 years since that night.
Long minutes passed as everyone tried to get some control over the field. Team owners tried to wrangle brawling players and medics rushed the field pushing through the huddle of your team, even some media managed to get on the field to snap pictures and capture up-close footage. It was like hell had broken loose.
With every minute that passed, he felt even more on edge. Then the ref blew his whistle and made his call.
"Serious Foul Play, number 76, Brewer. Expulsion. 2 free kicks Arsenal"
The stadium echoed with claps, cheers, and admonishment for the call. It was a good call. He watched the offender exit the field talking a lot of shit but focused on you. You were lying on your back with your head angled backward and a grimace on your face.
"Fuck! Is she okay?"
"I can't tell," Miles replied.
"Shit."
After another minute or two, you got hoisted onto the board and carried off the field. That only made him worry more. Unable to stay where he was any longer, he left the box and made his way toward the team areas. You’d had scares before in your games, but this had to be the worst one in the nearly three years he’d been watching by far.
When he got close, he watched one of your teammates take the second free kick, making nothing but net. Chelsea’s only hope was to bring it into extra time and even that would take impeccable athleticism for the remaining 8 minutes. He doubted they had it.
The clock winded down 4 minutes and still no goal had been scored by Chelsea. That was when he caught the eye of the assistant coach, a good friend of his. He waved him over and watched as he approached.
"How you doing Lewis. We didn't know you were in the house tonight."
"I'm always here, you know that. How is she?"
He sighed then shook his head.
"A few bruised ribs, mild to moderate left hamstring strain, left shoulder popped out we had to reset it and she’s complaining her chest hurts. Could be muscle strain, or tenderness or more serious pretaining to her heart.”
"Fuck!”
"Yeah. She’s playing tough but she’s gotta be in a lot of pain."
"That player should never play again!"
"Yeah. Measures will be taken. Do you want to see her? I'm sure she'd like to see you. All the times you've been here asking about her."
"No. I...I don't think that's a good idea. Like always don't tell her I was here."
He nodded then shook his hand.
"Hang out in the associate box instead of going all the way back up."
He took the offer and called his team down. Against all the odds Chelsea managed to tie the game leaving 2 minutes of gameplay for possible extra time.
"Wild. It's clear their goal was to get Y/N out of the game. They knew she was the key."
It was more than obvious, and it pissed him off more. Suddenly a whistle blew, and he watched you slow jog onto the field. Half the stadium was cheering and the others murmuring amongst each other trying to understand what was happening. He was one of the latter.
"Isn't she hurt."
"She is. What is she doing?"
He zeroed in on your face and saw you grimace. You were definitely hurt. The list of injuries he’d just been told was serious and could be made worse with you aggravating them. You huddled with your team, and he noticed the Chelsea players looking at each other clearly panicking. You broke the huddle with a combined warrior's war cry that had become a ritual and signature of your team.
You broke out in formation, and he watched as play began again. The opponents made no attempt to hide their intention--keeping you held down. They tried everything they could to intercept the balls while heavily guarding you, but the ball never touched your feet. Instead, you took all the heat of them over guarding you, testing your strength and injuries while your team scored 2 goals in one minute.
"It’s a wrap,” Miles said while fanning off toward the field.
"Pack it up!”
He couldn’t help but laugh at the commentary of Miles and Daniel together. While Chelsea had a plan, you came with your own plan, and they played right into it. Within the 15 second reprieve, he saw the pain on your face. You bent over and rested your hands on your knees and dipped your head down. He hated this.
The whistle sounded again, and play resumed. He watched the formation change on your team and the other team went back to equal guard leaving only 2 players on you. He snorted because he knew what was going to happen.
"Big mistake!”
You stood there inactive, which made the players on you watch you in confusion. They looked around unsure what to do as play continued around them. He did a quick glance at the clock noting there was under 40 seconds of play time. Your team made a run for the goal which made the players on you scramble to try to stop the goal by any means. That left you wide open. In a misdirection move the ball flew to you and you took off from midfield at top speed.
He watched your ball control in awe. By the time the other team realized their error it was too late. You were in the zone. You faked to the left breaking one of your opponents, making them slip into what must have been a painful split. You faked right and your second opponent dived for you missing completely.
You booked it to the goal as the rest of their team chased after you. When you were about 10 feet from the goal you kicked it to the right, then your teammate kneed it up and front kicked it back to you.
Everyone in the stadium was on their feet and it looked like it all moved in slow motion. You high jumped up getting major air then instead of your signature move you stuck your leg out and went for a flying bicycle side-kick. Looking tighter than the Nike check logo. Once your foot made contact he knew you had it and sure enough, the ball zipped through the air like a bullet and collided into the net signaling the end of the game and Arsenal's win clinching yet another title.
The stadium went absolutely wild. You remained laid on the field as your teammates jumped on you, cheering and celebrating another victory.
"She's a beast!"
They hoisted you up and put you on top as they passed you in the air. Though he could tell you were in pain you were all smiles. He couldn't help but smile too. He’d always loved your smile. It was the reason he always tried to make you happy just to see you smile. His heart thudded painfully and as strong as it ever had when he watched or thought of you. This had been going on for 3 years now and he was still hopelessly and painfully in love with you.
The field filled with press, the rest of the team, managers, and other personnel, and they all were in celebration mode. Your teammates let you down in front of a tall man who was smiling just as widely. He wrapped his arms around you and rested them just at your hip. It was an intimate move and just like that his hackles were up.
When he bent to your ear he watched your interaction while he wondered who he was and what he was to you. Over the years while you’d become a sensation and top player for Arsenal, you'd been able to keep your privacy and stay away from the paps. There was little to no info on you out there which meant he had no idea if there was someone in your life.
The thought that there was, made him clench his jaws though he probably had no right to the reaction. Not after he’d let you walk out and away from him nearly 3 years ago.
"Let's go."
Without waiting any longer, he turned, and a few people started pointing at him and shouting his name. Soon everyone near him was waving and cheering and calling to him. He smiled and waved back as he tried to slip out before you saw him. He shouldn’t have ever come no matter how much he missed you, no matter how much he craved having you near, and no matter how much he regretted what happened those years ago. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t any good for you.
~~~~~~~~~~~
-Y/N-
Even now as you were sitting in your gown for the celebratory dinner hopped up on some superior pain medication you could have sworn you saw Lewis. Or the back of his hooded head. Was it really him? You didn’t know. It could have been anyone similar to his height and build wearing a hood. While your ears had picked up some murmurs in the crowd shouting his name, it could have been any Lewis.
You sighed and closed your eyes. You were being ridiculous right now. It had been almost 3 years and you were still thinking about him and looking for his face in the crowd and him in every man you encountered.
“How pathetic, Y/N. How much more do you want to suffer? Haven’t these years been enough?”
Just then, a pang of pain rippled through you that took your breath away. You threw your head back and held your breath as you tried to push through it. Perhaps the quick look-over you’d gotten during the ending part of the match wasn’t enough. Everyone had insisted that you be admitted but you knew you had to make an appearance at this dinner.
“I’ll do it after,” you groaned out to yourself.
“Y/N.”
You straightened and put on a brave face. “Ready. Let’s go.”
You stood on shaky legs and shook off the lingering pain while pleading with your body to give you a few more hours. Your job didn’t end after a win. The show must go on.
Thirty minutes later you were walking the gold carpet with the rest of your teammates smiling and being interviewed by reporters.
“Y/N!”
You approached a tall woman with gorgeous curly 4B hair that had subtle auburn streaks. The look complimented her nutmeg tone and striking features.
“Hi.”
“Hi to you. First of all, I stan you so hard! Today’s game was incredible. You were incredible. How are you? Should you be here tonight?”
You giggled. “Thank you. I uh—I appreciate you saying that. It was truly a team effort today and I’m just happy we could bring it home.”
“Can we talk about that hit?”
You shuddered remembering it and the immediate shock and pain you felt. “Uh, sure.”
“Did you see it coming?”
“No. I was focused on the goal and the plan.”
“Do you feel it was deliberate? A lot of fans and spectators are saying she had a plan to take you out of the game so it could make it easier for them to win.”
You’d heard the rumbles too. You’d had problems with Cadence Brewer for years. She’d tried taunting you for your entire career and when you’d surpassed her and any rankings she could have ever held the taunting became worse. You didn’t know what you’d done to her, but it was clear she didn’t want to be friends or even sportsman like.
“Um, I don’t know. I—I try not to go down those thought pathways. I go out there, play the sport I love with one goal in mind, to win. I really don’t focus on anyone else or their feelings toward me.”
“Well said and your skill sure speaks for itself. Are you doing okay tonight?”
“I’m doing all right, feeling not my best, sore but I’m dealing.”
“You look spectacular. Give us a spin.”
You did but it was a rather slow one. Anything more you would give away just how not your best you were feeling.
“Wow. You clean up well.”
You laughed then fanned her off.
“Thank you.”
You heard your name across the way and found your team waving you over.
“Looks like I’m needed. Thank you.”
You walked over to your team and posed for some pictures. It took another fifteen or so minutes before you made it inside and when you did, your hamstring was throbbing uncontrollably.
“If it isn’t the MVP of the night.”
You looked beside you and found Tyrone’s smiling face. You returned his smile the best you could and looked over him. He always did clean up nicely. His locks looked freshly tightened and skin glistened. He was a fine man indeed.
“You clean up nice,” you both said at the same time.
“How are you holding up?”
You bobbed your head from side to side indicating you were not great but not terrible.
“That could change in an hour though,” you added.
Tyrone held his arm out for you, and you looped it. He’d been hanging around for about 8 months now. Ever since a charity game between Aston Villa’s WFC and Arsenal’s where he’d cheered you on rather than the women’s side of his club you’d struck up a friendship. Truth be told, you couldn’t shake him. He showed up to your games when he didn’t have one, commented on your socials, constantly asked you to hang out, and even accompanied you to football events both of you needed to be at. It was nice, he was fun, and you now considered him a good friend.
Everyone on your team believed he was doing everything he could to woo you. While you couldn’t believe it, you did see some small signs he might be into you. You’d never reciprocated any of his advances because you didn’t think you could. You truly believed something inside of you was broken.
You had no interest in a repeat of what had happened to you a few years ago. You could call it once bitten, twice shy, or whatever. The facts were simple, ever since that night you’d pushed pause on anything that wasn’t football. You dedicated yourself to your training and becoming indomitable. You’d learned your lesson then and didn’t want any others.
Instead, you trained like a beast and put in all the work necessary to step your game up. In truth, you’d probably used football as a crutch and a means to forget Lewis and what your heart still felt for him. You’d even done your best to stay away from everything related to him but that had proved to be impossible. You lived in the same country, ran in the same circles and he was everywhere. You could barely walk down the street without seeing a magazine that didn’t have some coverage of him. It also didn’t help that F1 was one of two national sports of England and people truly lost their shit over him.
In the last near 3 years, his image had only gotten bigger, his fame more blinding and his alleged conquests more gorgeous. You had all the evidence needed that he didn’t give a shit about you. Within two weeks of you, he was rumored to have someone else he was giving his attention to. That was probably the worst part. You couldn’t escape the rumors.
The rumors were everywhere, and those rumors triggered some of the worst nights for you. For a long time, you couldn’t sleep because your imagination ran wild. You couldn’t do much of anything without thinking of him. Your only escape was football. At least for that you probably should thank him. You’d used him to become the monster you were today.
Arsenal management introduced you and the team to tens of people. You shook hands, smiled, posed for pictures, and mingled. Barely anyone stuck out because all the faces and names blended together after an hour. You knew this win was bolstering Arsenal’s image but when someone approached you and proposed you play during the offseason for a major off-season league it hit you that this win had catapulted you into a whole different layer in the atmosphere. You’d become bankable.
“Y/N, let me introduce you to some major players,” your assistant coach said to you just as Tyrone came up on your right side with two glasses of champagne.
“Uh, sure.”
Tyrone held his arm out to you again and you looped it. As you walked across the room you took the flute of champagne he offered and downed it.
“I love watching you work a room,” Tyrone whispered against your ear.
His lips brushed against you making you glance up at him. “I had no idea.”
“There’s a lot you have no idea about,” he replied, voice still tipped lower than ever before.
“Like what?”
His lip quirked up and he leaned closer again. “Like how irresistible I find you and how badly I’m trying to not pull you into a corner to kiss you senseless.”
Your eyes bugged. He’d finally shown his hand. Long gone were his flirty innuendos and could be, couldn’t be hints. You didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare at him.
“Eh-em.”
You tore your eyes from Tyrone’s and looked at your assistant coach who nudged his head forward. Looking in front of you, you got the wind knocked out of your lungs for the second time in 30 seconds. Your eyes locked with Lewis’ burnt honey ones and instantly your heart thudded painfully in your chest.
“Ah!”
You gripped your chest and five men lurched forward in an attempt to console you. Before anyone could touch you, Tyrone took your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you close.
“Are you alright?”
You rubbed at your chest and took a few breaths before you nodded.
“You should have been admitted,” your assistant coach muttered.
You waved off his concern and smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Tyrone cupped your cheek, bringing your face closer so he could really assess you. The gentleness in his touch and the tenderness in his eyes took you by surprise. Yeah, he’d been flirtatious before, but this was different. He’d declared intentions moments ago and suddenly these touches felt different. Your heart should have been touched, warmed at least but nothing. That wall you’d built around your heart steadfastly remained.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
You lowered Tyrone’s hand and looped yours with his before looking in front of you again. Though you tried to keep your gaze from his, your eyes still met Lewis’. His jaw was tightly clenched, eyes blazing with intensity and coldness. He looked like he was on the verge of decking someone. You were introduced to the two men flanking his left and right and then him. You had two ways to play this and decided on the path that would keep your promise from those years ago.
You smiled and held out your hand to him, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Lewis didn’t budge. He stared into your eyes as if he too were making his own decision of how to handle this moment. It felt like an eternity passed before he took your hand and shook it. Once he touched you, a static electric shock coursed through you and though it was slightly painful, it felt good though. Too good.
As you slowly shook hands, your eyes remained locked on one another as if no one else existed in this room and neither of you had anywhere else to be. Again, your heart thumped painfully against your chest cavity making you flinch. Yanking your hand away, you flexed your digits trying to shake off the feeling.
“Em, sorry. I dislocated this earlier it’s a little sore,” you appeased.
Why? You didn't know. You didn't have to explain why you wanted to keep your parts from his. You looped your arm with Tyrone's again and held tighter to him. You caught Lewis's eyes moving to your joined arms and yet again the tight clench of his jaw couldn't be missed.
How odd, you thought before you were distracted by one of the men with him addressing you.
“Amazing match, Y/N. Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”
You looked at Lewis who was still looking at yours and Tyrone's interlocked arms.
“Uh, thank you…I guess.”
“Still haven't learned how to take a compliment, huh.”
Lewis's comment caught you off guard and it must have been the case for Tyrone as well because you could feel his eyes on you. Not bothering to reply you smiled and simply shrugged.
The conversation continued with you having no way to escape. You'd often thought about the first time you spoke after the way things ended and you'd done your best to convince yourself that you were long past it and him. You were certain that you would be able to talk to him without feeling a thing.
Two and a half years had passed, but that was not the case. Being near him now made every injury you had thrice worse. The pain medication had taken 95 percent of the pain but the 5 that remained was persistent. Your body ached worse being in front of him and that one touch triggered some innate response.
So, not only were you trying to keep a brave face on so no one knew the extent of your injuries, but you were also trying to pretend like seeing Lewis again up close wasn’t affecting you. You had to pretend you'd never known what it felt like to intimately touch his flesh, or press your lips to his, or have him deep inside of you. You had to pretend like you hadn't fallen in love with an emotionally unavailable man who’d shown what he thought your worth was by letting you walk away. You had to pretend like you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself in front of him and that he hadn't seen you at your most vulnerable and turned way.
When Tyrone came up with an excuse to get to the table, you were thankful. Visibly weaker, Tyrone held tightly to you as he led you away and as you walked away you could feel Lewis' eyes boring holes into your back. Tyrone sat you in your seat then pointed out his seat at the next table then kissed your cheek before he went to his seat.
With a little time to yourself you recalled what the man with Lewis had said.
“…Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”
How did he know how you handled yourself? You were sure that commercials would have been on during the chaos after the tackle. The only way for him to know that was if he was in the stadium. The realization hit you so hard that another strong stab of pain surged through you making you squeeze the edge of the table.
With white spots dancing behind your eyes, you counted through it and focused on keeping your breathing leveled as you tried to push any other thoughts out. When the pain subsided, you looked up and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Barely making it halfway around the room, you locked eyes with Lewis who was seated so close but so far. Story of your entire entanglement you thought to yourself. From where you sat it was easy to mistake the intense look in his eyes for concern.
Scoffing to yourself, you shrugged the thought off, deeming it ridiculous. You wouldn’t fall for that twice. Straightening your back, you played it off and finished the glass of champagne before you in one rise to your head.
The dinner progressed with conversation on all topics mainly toasts of congratulations and a plethora of photo ops. If you were feeling better perhaps you would have enjoyed yourself more but after 2 hours you were so ready to leave. Your decline had been steady.
Every time your eyes accidentally met Lewis', your heart beat painfully. Each time you had to stand and pose for a picture your hamstring furiously rebelled making you feel its wrath. Every hand you shook you instinctively reached with your right hand which aggravated your shoulder that had become increasingly tighter and tighter as time elapsed. You kept telling yourself to get through to the MVP announcement and then leave but there was too much working against you tonight.
“Everyone, thank you for taking the time to celebrate with us tonight. Here at Arsenal, we consider ourselves a family and as a family, we are always proud of each member. Strong ties, loyalty, and devotion are the principles of Arsenal.”
The room erupted into applause that took several moments to quiet.
“As we do every year we are presenting our MVP selection for this season of very high, highs and few to no lows. This team is filled with valuable players. We've been lucky to recruit the best and those bests have only gotten more and more exceptional. Although I can only give this to one woman tonight I wish I could give it to all of them.”
Again everyone applauded. A few of your teammates patted your shoulder and pointed at you. It only made you more anxious. While this award wasn’t a huge deal, it was a big one. It said a lot within the sport, and it also would open you up to so many more opportunities. Not to mention anyone who got the MVP award was definitely getting a contract extension and with that extension a raise.
“So, without further ado, this woman has really gone above and beyond. She has not only enhanced her skill but has shown every football club why she deserves to be considered one of the brightest rising stars in the sport. Her stats speak for themselves and so do her moves. If you ask anyone on the team not only is she talented but she's humble. Not only a shark but a team player. Not only fierce but kind. So let me introduce this season's MVP. Y/F/N & Y/L/N!”
Shock flooded you and soon disbelief set in. As everyone around you stood and clapped, you remained seated unable to believe your name had been called. Your teammates all released a warrior's war cry as they surrounded you trying to coax you into action.
You hugged them all and smiled at others at your table then hugged Tyrone who was all smiles.
“You deserve it,” he whispered to you before he kissed your cheek.
You then made your way to the stage. You were so happy that your table was close but that happiness was short-lived when you clocked the 4 steps onto the stage. Before you could panic, you saw Lewis approach the side of the steps holding his hand out to you.
Internally, you panicked but externally you were as cool as a cucumber. You'd worked hard to cut yourself off from useless emotions and while his effect still had a relentless hold on you, you could rise above it. So, you did just that –raised above it. You slid your hand into his and ignored the electricity passing through your hand, and the way your belly flipped from the tightness of his hold, and his scent that was so familiar but so different bombarding you, and even the pain in your chest that intensified thanks to his proximity.
Each step up was slow and with each step, he was mindful of not only your dress but also your body. You noticed how he took most of your body weight on the right side as if he knew your hamstring was shredded. He also used a second hand to secure your shoulder which you'd mentioned was dislocated a few hours before so there was no added strain. When you suddenly leaned back thanks to a spasm of pain in your ribs, his arm was there bracing your back holding you in a way that brought memories to the forefront of your mind.
How did he know to do these things? Did he know the specifics of your injuries? How? Had he really been in the stadium?
Lewis walked you to the podium then stepped back so he was in the darkened part of the stage clearly trying to not steal your shine. The room continued and it took a while to quiet down still wanting to clap, cheer and warrior cry to their heart's content.
You felt a rush of pride swell through you. It had paid off. The road here hadn't been easy. You'd pushed yourself to the max and then some, sacrificed a lot, and even went through a time of depression because of everything. Now it all seemed worth it.
Once the room quieted, you gave your acceptance speech thanking everyone by name, mentioning any and everyone who had a part in making this possible today. You didn't leave anyone out and made sure they each knew how grateful you were to and for them.
When you recounted how much work you'd done in the last nearly 3 years, your emotions caught up with you. It was then the memories of you and Lewis came back, memories of the heartbreak, memories of how hard healing was, and how much you struggled to even get out of bed and make it to practice. It was also then another bite of pain hit you, this one worse than all the others. You gripped your chest and hunched over the podium as the microphone feedback rang through the room.
Your vision blurred and all sound disappeared as you struggled to catch a breath. In the blink of an eye, all you saw was light being shut off all around you until only one remained as you felt yourself falling. Rather than the pain of a hard floor, you felt strong arms. Over you, you peered into a blurry face that went in and out of focus but brought with those strong arms, a familiar feeling washed over you. One you'd felt all night. Lewis.
As the last light shuttered, you made out one final word.
“Babygirl.”
~~~~~~~~
Everything ached but also felt numb. It was a strange combination. Fluttering your eyes open you heard loud voices just a breath below a shout.
“I've got it from here. You can go.”
“Excuse you? I'm not going anywhere. You can go. Like what is your purpose here anyway? She doesn't even know you.”
A snort sounded in the room. “Trust she knows me more than she knows you.”
“How? You just met a week and a half ago.”
“Don’t worry about other people's business. Mind yours.”
“She is my business. Look just because you’re Lewis Hamilton doesn’t mean anything here.”
“And who are you mate? Some rookie footballer on a come up?”
Clatter followed then several voices.
“You both need to leave! There is no fighting in here.”
“Take it outside!”
Panic and confusion welled within you, and it only intensified when you realized you couldn’t speak. It was then you realized the long tube over your head. The machines then went insane and seconds later you were surrounded by people. To the back of the huddle, you caught a glimpse of Tyrone and Lewis but in seconds they were gone.
“Calm down, Y/N. It’s all right. You’re safe, and currently admitted to the hospital. You’ve been here for a little over a week and we had to intubate you.”
The more she spoke the more you panicked until you were struggling against them trying to get out of the bed.
“She’s panicking. Sedative.”
That was the last thing you heard before it went black all over again.
~~~~~~~~~
When your eyes opened again the room was bright—too bright. Squinting you groaned but it came out sounding more like a toad’s croak. in seconds you were flanked by the faces of your family.
“Y/N?”
Your mother gently cupped your cheeks as tears streamed down her cheeks. You opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out. You tried again and again but still, there was no sound.
“It’s okay calm down. You were intubated. It’s normal to not be able to talk for a few hours,” your father informed.
Slowly, you calmed yourself but then wondered why you were intubated. Seeing the question in your eyes, your mother responded.
“You had a collapsed lung. You should have gone straight to the hospital so they could treat it but the delay in treatment made it worse. You’re so stubborn.”
You smirked and raised your hand to wipe your mother’s cheek hoping she took it as your apology. She held your hand to her cheek and stared lovingly into your eyes. Soon the doctors came in to check you over to gauge your healing progress. As they examined you, they filled you in on every medical measure that had been taken. They seemed to know the questions you had so as they went they answered them. Thankfully, you’d make a full recovery with time and physical therapy. They didn’t see any reason why your ability to play the sport should be hindered.
An hour later, your teammates all rolled through with flowers, stuffed animals, and get-well banners and cards. They teased you about your dramatic antics with fainting while you had everyone’s attention ensuring you’d be the talk of the town for weeks if not months. You laughed but with every chuckle, your ribs fought you. When they left the doctors ordered no more visits for the day so you could get some needed rest.
You were grateful because you were downright exhausted.
The next day you woke feeling a little more like yourself, especially since you woke up with the raspy version of your voice. While it sounded like you smoked 3 packs a day it was better than nothing. By noon after your first PT appointment for your hamstring, you were in good spirits. That was when Tyrone’s face popped around the threshold holding an embarrassing bouquet of flowers.
“Hey there gorgeous.”
You snorted and rolled your eyes. He approached you and then bent to kiss your cheek.
“You must have taken a bicycle kick to the face recently cause you’re blind.”
He chuckled and placed the flowers on your bedside table.
“For you.”
“Thank you.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better than bad, worse than great.”
He nodded then rubbed the back of his neck. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Tyrone sat in the chair beside the bed staring at you as if he had so much to say to you.
“What?”
He sighed then leaned forward. “I have feelings for you, Y/N.”
You froze.
“You had to know.”
You remained silent.
“I’ve been debating with myself for months, 8 to be specific on if I should continue pursuing you or move on. I wasn’t sure if it was me you weren’t feeling or if I wasn’t being direct enough so—I have feelings for you. I like you—a lot.”
“I love you, Lewis.”
Your words from three years ago echoed in your head. You saw the scene playing before you again and coupled with Tyrone’s confession you remained frozen in panic. It felt like you were in the same situation again.
“Y/N?”
Your eyes focused on him again and you fought to push the memories away.
“You had to know.”
“I—I didn’t. not really.”
“And now that you know? Do you—do you feel the same?”
The long stretch of your silence must have been answer enough. Tyrone blew a breath out.
“Do you feel anything for me?”
Again you couldn’t speak. Pinching the bridge of your nose you sighed.
“Wow,” Tyrone said.
“Ty, I think you’re great.”
“Aw man.”
“No. Let me finish. You’re great. You’re fun, funny, sweet, kind, giving, chivalrous and so many other things. You’re a good guy and I wish I felt the same way as you. I wish I felt. I just—I can’t.”
“Wish you felt? What does that mean? Were you just toying with me?”
“I never toyed with you and I’m sorry if that’s what you think. I’m—I’m not in any mind frame to reciprocate what you feel.”
He looked genuinely confused and just as you were going to open your mouth to say more there was a knock. Both of you turned around to see Lewis standing there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. A slew of emotions filled you, annoyance, relief, awe, hope, anger, and something that resembled happiness.
He smiled while keeping his eyes on you.
“Jasmine and Gardenias still your favorite flowers?”
“You know each other?”
“I tried to tell you, mate, now your feelings hurt.”
You watched Tyrone look between you and Lewis a few times each time his eyes got bigger and bigger.
“Wow. Wow, woooow. I see.”
“Ty, it’s not like that.”
He stood and raised his hand. “It’s all right, Y/N. I get it. I’m gonna get out of here. I hope you’re well soon Arsenal needs you.”
You stared at each other and read what he wasn’t saying with words. He was giving you an out, releasing you from any sort of obligation to reciprocate his feelings. You recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look you had those years ago.
“Thank you, Ty.”
He nodded. “I’ll call you.”
With that he walked to the door and shoulder checked Lewis in an aggressive confrontational move. Lewis scoffed but didn’t retaliate.
“Bye Ty,” Lewis taunted.
When it was just the two of you, you registered the change in the air. Before it was filled with such high testosterone. The testosterone of a man trying to mark his territory and now it only got more pungent. Lewis approached you and with every step he took toward you, you inched backward as if he were poison itself.
Lewis placed his bouquet of flowers down in front of the one Tyrone had just brought and the heady scent of gardenias and jasmine circled you. He’d often brought you them in the past. Why did he remember your favorite flowers? With cautious eyes you watched him sit in the seat.
“How do you feel?”
You almost laughed. You hadn’t expected the first words he’d say directly to you one on one would be these. You didn’t know what you’d expected but this wasn’t it.
“Fine,” you lied.
“With a shredded hamstring, a dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs, a collapsed lung you’re fine?”
There it was. Confirmation.
“Why do you know that?”
Lewis didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at you for such a long time it made you uncomfortable. When you realized he wasn’t going to answer you looked away.
“Thanks for the flowers, you should go.”
“Why don’t want to see me?”
“Why would I want to see you? There’s no reason for you to be here. We don’t know each other.”
“Oh come on Y/N. We know each other better than most.”
“I disagree, you know 90% of the female population just as well.”
His brow flicked up as his mouth screwed.
“Wait that was 2 years ago. What is it now 95 percent? No? 98?”
Lewis scoffed and shook his head.
“I might deserve that.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doing this. There really is no reason to. Let’s go back to staying away from each other and ignoring the other’s existence. Please leave.”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Lewis began.
“Okay you’ve done that. I’m fine. On the mend will make a full recovery.”
“Y/N—.”
“Thanks for stopping by. Have a good one.”
You turned away from him looking to the left where the entire side was taken up with flowers, cards, and balloons. Lewis sighed, stood then walked to the door. You didn’t know where the anger was coming from. You thought you’d moved past that. Unable to, you looked at his back. Those years ago you didn’t think you were strong enough to watch his back as he got further and further away from you and sitting here now you remembered every feeling you had that night. You also remembered the repercussions of those feelings.
"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this.”
The tears pricked your eyes, and the overwhelming feeling of loss and heartbreak consumed you. His back for further and further but before he walked through the door he paused. you pressed your palm to your mouth hoping to stifle any sound from passing. After a few moments, Lewis walked out of the room, turning right down the hall before the door closed behind him.
Once alone you waited a few moments before you allowed yourself to cry. Though you tried you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept coming until you were so worked up that your entire body felt as if it were going haywire. Suddenly, you couldn’t control yourself, you couldn’t seal yourself off from all the things you thought you’d dealt with but were now bombarding you.
You grabbed your pillow, buried your face in it and screamed until your throat burned. Then you bawled. Suddenly your door flung open and in walked Lewis.
“You’ve got me fucked up; you walked out. You left!”
You were so far down your spiral that you couldn’t stop your tears. Lewis hurried across the room to you asking a series of questions to gauge what was wrong.
“Don’t—Don’t touch—me!”
Lewis stopped right beside you respecting your wishes. “What’s wrong?”
“G—g—ge—get out!”
“No. Talk to me, Y/N.”
“Get out!”
The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this—not again. He’d seen you fall apart those years ago and you couldn’t do it again. Two nurses rushed in asking questions about what happened but when they didn’t get any response one of them escorted Lewis out as the other tried to console you. However, nothing worked which led them to sending you into the oblivion of darkness yet again.
~~~~~~~~~
-Two Weeks Later-
The moral of the story for you had always been that while love was a pure emotion it was a weakness, and it was a weakness you couldn’t afford. The solution was to block it with everything in you. However, that was no solution at all. You pushing down your feelings, ignoring them, and practically running from the pain only ended up catching up to you. You saw that now.
The last two weeks of recovery were tough. While the pain was manageable with heavy meds you were cooped up in your house with nothing but your head as company. That meant you thought about everything all over again. You had to come to terms with the pain and face everything you’d buried from shame and embarrassment.
When the doorbell rang, you expected it to be food, so you hobbled on your crutches to the door but when you opened it, there stood Lewis.
“No.”
You attempted to slam the door, but he caught it. “Can we talk?”
“No. How did you find out where I lived?”
“Reese.”
Everything clicked then. He had been at the match and Reese was his informant. Sighing, you dipped your head and mumbled a curse.
“Please, Y/N. I think it’s 3 years overdue.”
You scoffed and the urge to smack him with your crutch filled you. He must have seen it before he raised his hands in defeat. For the first time, you saw the two bags he held.
“The unconscionable mix of Thai and sushi still your favorite?”
Just then your belly rumbled giving him the answer.
“You should consider moving, the attendant downstairs let me take your food up just because I was Lewis Hamilton.”
Rolling your eyes, you hobbled away giving him a few seconds to catch the door. If he did he did if not oh well. When you got to the living room you dropped into the seat and elevated your leg with a groan.
“You’re the only person who will eat Thai and sushi together,” Lewis said as he laid out the containers from the bags across your center table.
Slowly, you slid down to the floor then began building a bed for your thigh. Lewis approached and took over stuffing couch pillows under and around your thigh until your leg was properly elevated. Your eyes briefly met but it only lasted a few seconds. Silently, you dug into the containers and focused on piling your plate with food.
“I only bought for me. Your plant-based ass will just have to starve.”
Lewis snorted then chuckled. “It’s all good.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
Your answer was short, and voice clipped and it was enough for him to get that you didn’t want to talk. You ate in silence for several minutes but soon you turned on the tv. Lewis reached for the remote and turned it off making you sigh.
“Come on. Haven’t you taken enough? Now you want to take my tv?”
“I’ve taken? Y/N. I’m lost here. You walked out. You left me in that hotel room in Mauritius. You did that.”
“Was I supposed to stay to hear words that were pointless in saying? Was I supposed to stay so you could have the upper hand? Fuck out of here Lewis.”
“The upper hand? Y/N this wasn’t a game.”
“Wasn’t it? From the beginning it was a game, and you know it. The only thing is I was the one who lost.”
“I never--.”
“Stop Lewis. What do you want?”
He groaned, rubbed his forehead as he shook his head. He looked distressed as if you were aggravating him, but he had no right.
“For the last 3 years I’ve carried so many regrets.”
“Same here.”
“Do you regret meeting me? Regret being with me?”
Looking at him you paused your chopsticks in their air. It wasn’t a hard question. You knew the answer. Was it the truth though? Was it your bitterness speaking? You broke eye contact and went back to your food.
Lewis sighed then spoke, “I regret letting you walk out that door. I regret not going after you. I regret not showing up at your place to clarify things. I regret these 3 years apart. I regret staying away. I regret not telling you the truth of matters. I regret—making you cry. I regret hurting you.”
With every bomb dropped your heart pounded louder and louder. Soon it felt like there was a herd of horses in your chest wildin' out. Keeping your eyes planted on your plate, you fought the urge to look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the uncertainty and hope in your eyes. You wanted to kick yourself for feeling hope.
“Well what’s done is done,” you tightly said.
“Aren’t you going to ask what I mean?”
“What’s the purpose? The answer holds no authority to me. No one can change the past and talking about it is pointless.”
“Come on Y/N,” Lewis pleaded.
“What Lewis! What! What do you want to talk about? Hm? You wanna talk about how many regrets you have? Fine. Why does it matter?”
Your explosion was from your aggravation. You knew the longer you talked about this the more pain it would cause. So what if after 3 years he was having regrets and now felt like talking. So what if he was trying to appease his conscience so he could sleep better. So what if the consequences of his bad decisions were finally catching up to him.
“It matters because I’m here and I want to make things right. I want to do right by you.”
“After 3 years?”
You laughed manically then. It sounded bitter, hell it tasted bitter.
“Hear me out—please.”
You struggled to stand and grimaced the entire time. Lewis lunged over to assist but you lurched away.
“I can manage.”
Once up, you hobbled to the kitchen on the hunt for one of the bottles of Umeshu that you stored for nights you ate Thai and Sushi. It didn’t take you long to find the gorgeous bottle that had paintings of Japanese cherry blossoms all over it. You grabbed a glass from your overhead cupboard then hobbled back to your seat. Not bothering to build a fort for your leg you filled the cordial glass you had.
“Should you be drinking if you’re on meds?”
You side-eyed him sending every bit of annoyance to him. Nodding, he backed down. Knocking the tart but sweet liquor back, you slurped and hit your hand on the table as it burned your tastebuds.
“Mmm.”
You poured another and repeated your action, then 2 more followed. You moaned again. “Mm, if I hear you out will you leave and drop this?”
Your eyes met.
“If you still want that then yes.”
You poured and knocked back one more glass then slammed it on the table. “All right. Go ahead.”
Lewis slid down to the floor with you then took your glass and poured his own drink and gulped it.
“Thought you gave it up.”
“A bit of liquid courage is needed,” he said before he took another glass full.
Lewis held the bottle with one hand and the glass with the other as the silence filled the room. With the lights dimmed only enough to give the room a very soft glow it felt like an intentional romantic setting. You almost wanted to get up and turn the lights on full glare but the hassle of getting up stopped you and you deemed it best to have whatever conversation he wanted in as little light as possible.
“When we met I wasn’t—a great guy. I had good qualities I know that, and those qualities maybe made it seem like I was a good guy, but I was about 3 things. Racing, having fun, and no attachments. I didn’t want anyone hanging onto me wanting something other than fun, laughs, and sex. It was too much. So I played around and was fully about that life. I didn’t care to keep one woman, the more the better, the more the merrier.”
You snatched your glass back and poured yourself another drink. He felt like being real, real. You drank it down and let him continue.
“I saw you across the club and I instantly thought you were gorgeous. You were the only woman there not showing an excessive amount of skin who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. I found it—you to be such a conundrum and the longer I watched you, the more I wanted to figure you out. But as I watched you I knew I should have walked away and left you alone, but I couldn’t. I tried; God knows I did.”
He sighed then took the glass and bottle back. You nearly snorted. This was a first between you. You’d never sat and drank together. You’d done so many things together but sat and drank and bared your personal truths were not among them.
“Ah,” he hissed before he continued, “When I said that I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you, from the second I looked into your eyes I meant I always knew I’d ruin you. I knew I’d break you because apparently, that is what I do with women in my world. That is what my world does to the women around me.”
You glanced at him at that confession. All this time you thought he meant something else, something more against you, but this was against himself.
“You were so innocent, and truth be told I was drawn to that, and it was probably because I liked new things and to claim things, so I did what I knew best though I warred with myself the entire time. Somewhere deep down I didn’t want to ruin you, but I couldn’t stay away. So, things escalated and escalated. Tried as I did to keep you like all the rest, slowly you ended up being like none at all.”
You swirled your finger around the rim of the glass allowing his words to settle. Your entire interaction played in your head. The things you did together outside the bedroom, the fun you had, the conversations, the cuddling, and the soft whispers. Those memories coupled with the Umeshu had you feeling soft. Groaning, you poured another glass. You were still too sober for this.
“You ended up being someone I could talk to about more than superficial shit, someone I could unload my frustrations with the sport, annoyance with my day, someone I could open up to and share pieces of myself. I didn’t even intentionally do it, it all just—happened. it was effortless. All of a sudden I stopped seeing you as this pass time, someone to distract me from everything, someone to sate my desires and have some fun with. I saw you as more.”
As he spoke you recalled when you’d gone through those very same sentiments. It was sudden for you too. So sudden that you didn’t believe it when you recognized it. After all, he was the first man you’d fallen in love with. Even thinking it you felt silly. Lewis Hamilton was your first love. And your first heartbreak, a voice inside your head reminded.
“More and more I wanted to spend time with you, more and more I kept thinking about you, and more and more I found myself breaking my rules and going out of character. The night you—told me how you felt it resonated with me and I knew I couldn’t keep you around me anymore.”
You abandoned the glass and brought the bottle to your head.
“My world isn’t as great as everyone thinks. I knew if you were part of it you’d get eaten, chewed, and spit out. I know how ugly it gets and I wanted to save you from that. I wanted to do whatever I could to not break you. So—I let you go.”
That confession hit you in the face like it were a low hanging tree branch. Looking at him you scrunched your face.
“What?”
You scoffed but that turned to a chuckle then an alcohol-induced guffaw. The irony was too good to not laugh. Long moments passed with you laughing not only at the situation but him and yourself.
“Let me get this straight. You wanted to not break me but ended up doing that very thing?”
Again you laughed.
“Y/N,” Lewis began but you cut him off.
“How completely ridiculous. Did you think ignoring me for years and pretending I didn’t exist wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I sat there and confessed something so personal something that made me the most vaulnerable I’ve ever been in my life only to have it be met with horror and annoyance wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I’d fallen in love for the first time, with the world’s most unavailable man, to have that man shoot me down wouldn’t break me?”
You laughed some more as you took another swig from the plum wine bottle.
“I’m sorry,” Lewis whispered. “I made a mistake. I fucked up.”
You rolled your eyes then took another mouthful ignoring the burn on your tongue and the puckering of your glands.
“I should have gone after you. I wanted to but I couldn’t--I. I wanted to tell you--,” Lewis sighed again.
You’d never seen him like this before. He always knew the right thing to say. He always said the right thing. Lewis Hamilton was eloquent and thought quickly on his feet and gave no evidence that he’d made something up on the fly. When he spoke he always held people captivated. The man sitting adjacent to you was not that man.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
You scoffed again. There was a time when you thought hearing him apologize was what you wanted. You thought hearing those words would make you feel better but hearing them now and seeing the condition of him across from you didn’t feel any better.
“I thought I wanted your sorries, that I deserved them for how you made me feel but now—it doesn’t matter. You got your freedom that night, your days, nights, weeks, months, years. You got freedom and peace, but I got trapped and tormented. You were okay all these years. You went on with your life, went on with your conquests and party lifestyle. You went on and had great days, you slept well. I didn’t get that. I didn’t get my days or nights, or weeks or months, all this time I was trapped in this loop of heartache and shame. My world stopped and yours spun on. I wasn’t okay, I didn’t have great days or slept well, I’ve had trouble sleeping for 3 years,” you absentmindly listed.
You sighed then shook your head, “When a heart breaks it’s never an even break. You got the better end.”
You raised the bottle to your head again and managed two gulps before Lewis pulled it from you and took a few gulps of his own.
“You have no idea how wrong you are. I got freedom? Ha! I got peace? I wish! You’ve haunted me for every single day of the last 3 years. Your face, your smile, Christ almighty your smile, your voice, your touch, your scent, your laugh. Fuckin’ “ell!”
Lewis grabbed his head then slid closer to you. In your head, you moved back but in reality, you remained where you were.
“I was not okay. Yeah to everyone looking in I looked fine but what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to go out looking how I felt inside? Was I supposed to look like I was on death’s door as I felt?”
“Yes!”
Your words slammed against all the walls in the living room giving him the first definite indication of the rage you felt deep down.
“Yes! Yes, you were supposed to do all of that. You didn’t and made me feel so small, so insignificant in your life, like the last year we’d spent together truly meant nothing at all. You moved on within 2 weeks. 2 weeks! Had me feeling like I deserved that shit, like it was my fault that I couldn’t stay in the fucked-up parameters we’d established.”
“I never said it meant nothing that you meant nothing, Y/N.”
“You never said anything. Your actions did it all. Your actions. This is just about hooking up Y/N, then you look at me so deeply so intensely that you steal my breath. I can only give you this, Y/N, then you cuddle with me for hours whispering how sweet and amazing I am. What the fuck Lewis! You played with me like a toy then had the nerve to be horrified.”
“I love you!”
Everything stopped then. Time, light, space, the universe, your heart. Everything. You snapped your head to him. His eyes were already on you, those dewy pots of melted molasses that promised so much more than forever, the eyes that looked so tortured now.
“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since you showed up at my house drunk out of your mind ready to dance for me. The night you gave the worst striptease in the world, the night I saw the goofy, hidden seductress you keep buried. The night you allowed yourself to be completely out of your box and just be. I fell in love with you that night, I fell so hard that I didn’t bother using a condom that night. I fell so completely that I risked it all and left it up to whatever powers that be. I let go of control that night and fell in love with you.”
Your eyes were wider than saucers at that confession. There was no way that was true. He’s lying, you kept telling yourself.
“Bullshit.”
“Hand to God. The night you told me how you felt I wanted to risk it all again, I wanted to tell you how I felt, I wanted to make every promise under the sun to you and vow you’d have me completely and openly. I wanted so fucking much that night and I almost took it all, but I couldn’t. I was—scared. I didn’t know how any of it had happened, I didn’t expect it and I sure as hell didn’t know how to accept it. I was scared I’d ruin you, scared my life, my world would ruin you, and have you hate me in the end like it had to others.”
You stared into his eyes reading him, trying to gauge the level of truth in his words. You hated that more than half of you wanted to believe him, hated that you wanted to throw everything away and wrap yourself into him and those 3 words. Tearing your eyes from his, you looked down at the bottle. A heavy tear rolled down your cheek and that was how the floodgates opened.
You sobbed silently at first then let it all out. As you cried not only did the tears fall freely, but so did all the emotions you’d bottled up. You cried your anger, fears, shame, and pain out. You couldn’t hold it anymore. It was all too much.
“I can—can—can’t do this anymore. It’s too much!”
“I’m sorry. I tried to stay away from you. I tried to keep my distance, but it’s been impossible. My heart wants you; I want you. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need to be able to look into your eyes every morning, I need to hear your voice beside me, I need to feel your skin against mine, I need to hold you close, I need to love you.”
When you felt his hand on yours you wailed louder. Everything you’d wanted to hear you’d heard tonight. Everything you’d wanted to see, you saw tonight. You’d gotten it all and you didn’t know what to do next.
“Do you still love me, Y/N?”
What a stupid question you thought but you shook your head. “I can’t.”
“Y/N--,” Lewis croaked.
“Nothing has changed.”
“Everything has changed,” Lewis countered pulling you into him so there was barely any space between your bodies. “Everything has changed.”
You scrunched your face and tried to push him away, but he relented.
“3 years too late.”
“I don’t believe that. You don’t either. You can’t. This entire time I can feel the struggle in you, I can hear it and see it. You don’t mean that.”
“Lewis--.”
“It’s never too late. I’m here. I know I was wrong; I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you and I have to put the work in for your forgiveness and to show you that you can trust me. I can do that. I want to. Your world stopped that night but mine didn’t spin on, it stopped too. All these years I’ve been trapped in this loop of regret and self-hatred, all because I wasn’t strong enough—brave enough.”
With every word, you found yourself allowing him closer and closer despite your head warring within you. It was telling you to run. When Lewis tilted your chin up your eyes met and that’s where they remained.
“Do you love me?”
More tears welled in your eyes just as you shook your head.
“You’re lying. I can see it.”
You pulled away from him and it felt like forcing superglued skin apart. When you’d managed to create some space between you, you groaned from the pain that his absence brought. Not again, you thought.
“You have to leave. Go.”
“Y/N.”
“I told you I’d let you explain, and I did, and you said you’d leave when you were done if I still wanted it.”
“You want me to leave?”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched between you again. The pain on Lewis’ face was clear but you steeled your heart that somehow had turned to melted ice.
“Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Put me out of my misery, put yourself out of this misery.”
He held out his hand to you. “Take my hand. Take my hand and show me the way to fix this. Let me back into your arms, into your life--in your heart.”
Ooof, you thought just before you rubbed your chest. He’d found his stride; his eloquence was returning, and you would never survive it.
“Lewis--.”
You stared at his hand and what was keeping you from taking it was fear. He’d broken you before, he could easily do it again. Holding that fear you knew it would only lead you to more misery. You knew fear would never make you happy. You also know you still loved him as much as you ever did. You’d never stopped. But was it enough? Could you be happy together?
His eyes said yes, your bruised heart said yes, your head said no. Your gut and instincts had left the group chat.
Heart or head, Y/N?
~~~~~~~~~~
-Two Years Later-
“Y/N. Y/N, Y/N!”
You jogged across the field to the reporter waving your down from the middle of the field while accepting pats on the back from those you passed.
“There she is. The woman of the game. The reason Arsenal brought home another title. How does it feel?”
Your smile was wide. “It feels—incredible. I’m really happy we could pull this off. Of course it’s all thanks to these women who have my back and are so incredibly skilled.”
“Of course. What a welcome back season. Arsenal’s WFC has become the most enviable WFC thanks to the relationship you all have with one another.”
“These are my besties. We really do like each other and spend so much time together. It makes working seem like play every day.”
“So you took a year off to get yourself back into beast shape but that didn’t stop these women from bringing home the title. And We had the same results 2 years ago but under different circumstances. You stand here today without injury.”
You chuckled. “Thank God. That wasn’t fun at all.”
“You worked really hard to come back from your hamstring injury and that collapsed lung. Would you say you’re in the same shape as you were two years ago?”
“No. Absolutely not. I feel like I’m in better shape this year than last year and definitely than the last before. I’ve gone through a lot of changes within that time physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually everything, and I think it all compounded to make such a profound difference.”
“Yes, you have gone through many changes, mainly a status change. You’re no longer Y/F/N & Y/L/N. You’re now Y/F/N & Y/L/N Hamilton. Or what everyone in the club likes to tease you with, Lady Hamilton.”
You snorted and shook your head. “They sure do love to tease me.”
“Would you credit your new marriage and new husband with helping you get into what you call the best shape?”
“Umm, yeah. With every life change, there will be changes that ricochet from it and everything has been positive. A better mental and emotional state helps with a clearer mind and heart which allows you to put in the work where needed.”
“So Lewis has been helping you?”
“Absolutely. I get in the training with the team, and he helps when we’re home we do jogs, we work out in the gym. He’s been great.”
“Is he here now?”
“He’s here somewhere.”
Just then you felt arms wrap around your midsection and you couldn’t help but smile widely.
“There he is.”
Lewis peppered kisses behind your ear and along your jaw clearly ignoring the sweaty mess you currently were. He released you then turned you to him and lifted you into his arms.
“Congratulations, princess.”
“Thank you.”
His hands splayed across your ass holding you there as he spun. Before he put you down he pressed his lips to yours once, twice then a third time before he dipped his tongue into your mouth to swirl around yours.
“Mmm.”
“Eh-Em.”
You pulled from him and hid your face as the women behind you let out a warrior cry in response to your nearly NC-17 display.
“Sorry,” you said.
“I’m not. She’s my wife, I’ll kiss her whenever I want.”
The reporter giggled. “No complaints here. Tell us Lewis how proud of your wife are you?”
“So incredibly proud. She worked hard for this; they all did. I am proud of all of them.”
“Congratulations on the wedding by the way.”
“Thank you. We’re very happy,” he replied.
“Very!”
“Ever since it was revealed you were engaged everyone had one thing they kept repeating, that your kids would be sports legends with both of your genes. Any comment?”
Lewis chuckled then shrugged. “Love?”
“Guess we’ll have to wait the 7 months to find out.”
Lewis’ eyes bugged then he turned you to him. “What!?”
You smiled wide and nodded.
“You’re messing with me.”
“No.”
“Y/N. Are you serious? You’re--.”
You nodded and within seconds Lewis had you in his arms spinning around.
“Oh my god. Wow!”
Lewis laughed and walked away carrying you away from anyone who wanted a moment of your time. He couldn’t care less that the interviews were part of your job.
“For real, for real?”
“Yes. I was going to tell you tonight,” you said.
Lewis cupped your cheeks and peered so deeply into your eyes that you could feel his love in your soul.
“I love you so fucking much.”
“You better remember those words when I’ve gained 50 pounds, a double chin, a humongous ass, canckles, and an insatiable sex drive because of you and your spawn.”
Lewis snorted then pulled you closer. “50 pounds, double chin, gigantic ass, and canckles doesn’t matter you will always be the most beautiful woman I see. Hands down.”
“Oh sweet talker.
“As for that insatiable sex drive…I think I am more than capable of helping out with that.”
His smirk was filled with mischief. You shook your head.
“Babes I think that’s how we ended up here, your helping out.”
The two of you laughed as he hugged you again. Lewis’ lips pressed along your neck before he began nipping at your skin.
“You’re not so innocent anymore, huh.”
“You tell me, Sir Hamilton.”
Again he smirked before bringing his lips back to your neck. You felt his hands slide down the small of your back to your ass just before he squeezed it.
“Naw, Lady Hamilton is a pro at taking this dick.”
A soft moan escaped you before you brought his hands from your ass to his side. You tipped onto your toes and went to his ear.
“And Lady Hamilton will take all that dick and then some tonight.”
You kissed his ear then jogged off. When you’d made it a few feet away you turned back to him and blew him a kiss. Lewis smiled wide and winked at you. That one simple act turned your insides into molten lava. You made your way back to your teammates completely pumped to get through all the interviews so you could go home to your man, your first love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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thatoneluckybee · 4 months
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School Bus Graveyard Episode 61 Thoughts
Okay thoughts time cause HU!HG?!?Q>?
The logo was altered!! Not by much but I love the detail that some falling rubble was covering the edges of the logo at the beginning of the episode.
Ben holding/protecting Tyler under the (table? desk?) is everything to me. Ben Clark is a golden retriever in all the best ways. I am dealing with the after effects of the Ben Fever we all got a few weeks ago.
Same goes for Taylor protecting Ashlyn! It’s so cute and Taylor has been coming in CLUTCH lately. I’m so excited for this development with her after Tyler’s injury. I just hope she’s able to target her (rightful) anger at the right people and not at the rest of the group. (Also ASHLYN CRYING BABY NO)
“Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?” Aiden, no, we do not, put your eyes back in please. (Also—I LOVE the shading and dramatic effects on this panel.)
Okay, the parents are DEFINITELY being affected by the rift and Phantom Dimension. Mike was dizzy when the kids all came back!! And I love how responsible both of Ashlyn’s parents (as well as everyone else so far) are being—Immediately jumping in to help when it sounds like someone is in trouble. I just hope this serves as a wake-up call for Aiden’s mom and dad.
We’ve seen Ashlyn scared before but… holy cow I don’t think she’s been pictured as this terrified before. And rightfully so! I want to give her a hug and a chocolate milk. Also, I adore how Logan immediately noticed and rushed to help. He’s really grown in his emotional maturity over the series and I’m loving the payoff.
Yes, honey, you are becoming phantoms. Is this confirmation of the theory? I’ll take it as confirmation of the theory.
…The parallels between the earlier panel of Tyler “waking up” vs Aiden now is…. oh my. And the altered text was DEEPLY disturbing. But I had to try not to laugh at imagining what he sounds like right now. Probably like he’s a 40 year old man who’s smoked a six-pack ev’ry night since way back when.
LILY BABY NooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and Aiden IMMEDIATELY being concerned about Ashlyn is everything. In all honestly the ship concerned me at the beginning but I am ALL ABOARD and ready to set sail now. They both have grown so much and while it would have been iffy at the start it’s becoming a really sweet and wholesome relationship, regardless of whether it stays platonic or divulges into romance.
The flashbacks were INSANE. But also, let’s take a moment seeing these to appreciate HOW MUCH THE ART HAS IMPROVED!!! Supersupersuper proud of Red and her entire team. This was like a short montage of the growth and I love that so much. Also…. could this potentially count as an “oh” moment for Ashlyn?? And the immediate jump afterwards to Aiden’s maybe-dead-maybe-not body was such incredibly timed and perfected formatted whiplash!!!!!
Ashlyn initiating the contact was huge for her. We know she isn’t a fan of touchy-feely stuff or close contact so this is big. I thing there was a “some people are worth being uncomfortable for” comic with the BTW and TBH creature that sums up my thoughts on this? But yeah, I loved this. She’s growing more comfortable AND this was entirely respectful of her boundaries while also allowing her to push past her comfort zone? Amazing.
”So this is what it feels like” uhhhhhhhh I need a seperate ramble post for this cause I don’t want to trigger tag this one and have it filtered but I have… a lot to say. Very relatable and makes me appreciate these characters more. I love how this whole short scene was pulled off though. Definitely a lot of emotions for this one, I had to pause for a moment to process.
“I don’t like how much she’s shaking” MY HEART
Aaaaand THANK YOU RED FOR ANOTHER AMAZING EPISODE!!! I’ve got so many longer thoughts and theories and ideas and rambels and AUGHHHHHHH I can’t fit them all!!!
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petermorwood · 7 months
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Interesting to see this post cross my dash again.
I was watching a movie late last night and, with that post's criticism of unbroken long speeches and suggestions of how to break them, here's an example of how a very famous one was done.
The movie I was watching was "Jaws", and the long speech is The Indianapolis Monologue. There are several YouTube clips, but a couple of them leap straight in at the start of the speech.
The clip below has the lead up to The Speech which, IMO, matters a lot in preparing for what follows; there's not just a Mood Whiplash - cheery drunk to OMG Whut - to make the viewers pay attention, but also what I mentioned in the other post, an entirely legitimate reason for an "As You Know" speech.
One character, Hooper, knows the significance of "USS Indianapolis" - his shocked-almost-sober reaction makes that very plain - but the other character, Brody (and the audience he represents), doesn't know and needs told.
In addition (also as mentioned in the other post) despite being a single-character monologue, the speech is "broken" by cutting away from the speaker, Quint, to reaction shots from the other characters present. Even when Quint is on-screen he isn't centre-screen, Hooper is visible in the background where his silent, apprehensive attention accompanies the story he's hearing.
*****
This can be done in words, too: inserting other actions or reactions by means of paragraph breaks is the equivalent of visual cut-aways, and serve the same functions - making a lot of words from one character into several smaller groups of words, while showing the cumulative effect of all those words on other listeners.
Even a soliloquy with no-one else listening benefits from occasional breaks describing what the speaker is doing, how their emotions show, where they are etc. It's all far better than A Wall Of Text.
youtube
The entire speech is 438 words, and Robert Shaw delivers them over 3 min 34 sec.
I've got three PDF versions of the "Jaws" screenplay, all different, and this speech varies in every one but are never what's in the movie, so I constructed mine as a transcript from several listenings, and have used paragraph breaks to try matching Shaw's delivery.
Also, as an Exercise For The Scholar (me, anyway) I've inserted and timed the cuts where Quint isn't on screen or speaking to show how short they can be.
Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, Chief. We was comin' back from the island of Tinian to Leyte. Just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first shark for about half an hour. Tiger. Thirteen-footer. You know how you know that when you’re in the water, Chief? You tell by lookin' from the dorsal to the tail. What we didn't know ... was our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. Huh.
CUT TO BRODY (3 sec) then BACK TO QUINT WHO TAKES A DRINK (2 sec)
They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it’s ... kinda like old squares in a battle, like you see in a calendar, like the Battle of Waterloo, and the idea was, shark comes to the nearest man, that man he start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin’, an’ sometimes the shark go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes, like a doll's eyes. When he comes at you, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites you, and those black eyes roll over white and then, ah, then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'. The ocean turns red, and despite all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in an’ they... Rip you to pieces.
CUT TO BRODY (2 sec) then BACK TO QUINT
Y’know, by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I dunno how many sharks, maybe a thousand. I dunno how many men, they averaged six an hour.
CUT TO BRODY (3 sec) AS QUINT CONTINUES OFFSCREEN
On Thursday mornin', Chief...
BACK TO QUINT
I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Bosun's mate. An’ I thought he was asleep; reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up an’ down in the water, was like a kinda top. Upended... Well, he'd been bitten in half below the waist.
CUT TO BRODY (2 sec) then CUT TO HOOPER (2 sec) then BACK TO QUINT
Noon the fifth day, Mister Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us - a young pilot, a lot younger than Mister Hooper. Anyway he saw us and he come in low, and three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went into the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.
*****
For comparison, down below is what it looks like without any paragraph breaks, speech instruction (gravely / incredulous etc.) or screen direction (track right / dolly in / close on / match cut etc.).
(BTW, some of these effects can be used when writing prose, to good effect, but that's for another time.)
This is the Wall of Text effect, and it sometimes turns up on the internet, courtesy of people who don't know how to use Enter except when they're sending a post.
I'm not saying this is how the speech would have looked in the real shooting script, but it might. From my own screenwriting experience, actors don't like being told how to deliver their lines and directors don't like being told how to set up their shots.
There's a bit more flexibility when writing animation, but in both cases crafty writers write so that the way they want a thing done works out as the best way to do it.
Sometimes this trick even works... :->
*****
Here's the Wall Of Text:
Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, Chief. We was comin' back from the island of Tinian to Leyte. Just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first shark for about half an hour. Tiger. Thirteen-footer. You know how you know that when you’re in the water, Chief? You tell by lookin' from the dorsal to the tail. What we didn't know was our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. Huh. They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it’s kinda like old squares in a battle, like you see in a calendar, like the Battle of Waterloo, and the idea was, shark comes to the nearest man, that man he start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin’, an’ sometimes the shark go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes, like a doll's eyes. When he comes at you, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites you, and those black eyes roll over white and then, ah, then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'. The ocean turns red, and despite all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in an’ they rip you to pieces. Y’know, by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I dunno how many sharks, maybe a thousand. I dunno how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin', Chief I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Bosun's mate. An’ I thought he was asleep; reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up an’ down in the water, was like a kinda top. Upended. Well, he'd been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mister Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us - a young pilot, a lot younger than Mister Hooper. Anyway he saw us and he come in low, and three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went into the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.
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