— RE9!Leon x DSO Wife!Reader, fluff, in which your anniversary was not what you quite expected.
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You and Leon stood in front of Grace who was sat wrapped in a thermal blanket, exhaustion etched her every feature.
“I wish we could’ve saved, Emily.” Grace said with somber eyes. After all, she did make it her personal mission to finish it once and for all with Emily by her side.
Leon steps closer towards her, “Grace, I didn’t hit any of her vitals,” he said gently. “She could still be alive.”
Grace’s expression shifted, as if she couldn’t believe what your husband had just said. “W-W-What do you mean?”
You gave her a reassuring smile. “Maybe we can save her.” For the first time since everything began, Grace smiled. It was a tired yet hopeful smile filled with relief.
Suddenly, a BSAA agent comes up to you both, “Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy? Please come run your last checks on our emergency helicopter, ensure that all DSO-issued gear have not been left behind.” With that, you and Leon give the BSAA agent an understanding nod and tell him your thank yous.
You squeezed her shoulder once before stepping back. “We’ll be in touch soon, Grace. In the meantime, do get some rest.”
It was time to finally wrap things up and head home. Learning the truth about Elpis was a long journey and all you two wanted was to lay in bed for a whole week straight. A comfortable silence settled between you and Leon as you both start walking towards the helicopter that took you to safety.
Leon let out a long breath. “…I’m officially done with abandoned laboratories for a while.”
You chuckled, his comment was something you two can only dream of. “You nearly died on me and you’re only done for a while?”
“I know how our luck works, Y/N.”
They shared a knowing smile at that. No matter how many mentally taxing missions you and your husband take on together, you both knew it would all be okay. As long as you had each other, neither of you felt you had anything to fear.
“Fuck, that was one hell of a mission,” You said. “But.. we did it.”
“We stopped it,” Leon replied. “And we finally found a cure for the damn T-virus.”
You glanced down at the tactical watch strapped around your wrist, checking the time. Upon seeing the date, your steps came to a halt.
“Leon…”
“Hm?”
“It’s October 9th, my love.”
He paused.
Then realization softened his tired expression. A small and genuine smile spread across both of your faces.
“Happy Anniversary,” you both said in perfect unison.
Leon let out a quiet laugh. “Not exactly the celebration I had planned for us, hon.”
“Hm, I don’t know the entire ARK crashing down on us was quite the show.” I chuckled softly, heart fluttering as you see how his smile reached his eyes. Somehow, he’s managed to give you even more butterflies the older he got…
You both dig in to your hip pouches, retrieving a simple wedding ring that had remained tucked safely away throughout the operation.
You slipped your ring back on to its rightful spot, seeing the familiar silver again gave you a wave of comfort.
Leon meets your eyes before intertwining your fingers with his, wedding rings catching the glow of the police lights.
“We’re alive.”
He squeezed your hand.
“And that’s the best gift I could’ve asked for.” He brings your hand, still intertwined with his, up to his lips. His breath catches your hand for a second just before he kisses it. It was his silent way of professing his love and commitment for you.
Together, hand in hand, you walked towards the idle helicopter, leaving yet another nightmare behind, and heading home at last.
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a/n; UEUEUEU first resident evil one shot drabble thingy t^t. had to write this cause cant stop thinking about married 49 year old leon kennedy LOL. probably just be a survivor’s ring in the game but i do hope we see this hunk get married at some point 🥹 very rushed but i hope you enjoyed!
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Once the elevator reaches the secret floor, you’re met by a hallway with vintage, wine-colored carpet and various art paintings lining the dark walls. The place looks old, which does not come as a surprise considering the hotel’s age, but everything seems to be maintained with utmost care.
Leon keeps himself one step ahead of you in a protective stance, his fingers twitching for a gun he doesn't have, and his body missing the heat of yours now that he’s forced to put distance between you. He’s not sure where this is leading, but he has a bad feeling growing in his chest.
To make matters worse, the signal here seems to be nonexistent—your attempt to call Hunnigan through your bracelet having failed miserably. You can't go back for fear of being detected, so with no choice but to advance, both your steps are careful yet hurried as you continue down the long corridor.
After passing a few gates that wouldn't open without special codes—Pop-pop’s birthday could only get you so far—you finally come across a set of double doors with a plaque on the wall that reads ‘Viewing Room.’ Observing it closer, the golden slab seems brand new in contrast with the place’s antique appearance, like it had just been installed there not too long ago.
With your interest peaked, you watch Leon try the handle, and to your surprise, it yields open. He keeps an arm outstretched in your path that signals you to stay back as he peeps through the crack and frowns at whatever he sees.
You can’t wait any longer, so you slide under him and peek as well, prompting him to huff. But, he doesn't say anything considering the room inside already has a couple of people who appear to be waiting staff. From your spot, it looks like a home cinema. A luxurious one, with comfortable leather recliners and trays of food and drinks on small tables—a cinephile's dream.
But what makes you frown along Leon is what's playing on the big screen. It doesn't show a movie, or a show, or whatever documentary aristocrats are interested in. Instead, it’s a split display of multiple news channels—all the main ones, in addition to local stations of the DMV area.
You would think it's simply an idle screen to prepare for the night’s show, but it seems a deliberate choice as each broadcast has a quadrant surrounding its frame that reads a countdown timer of about one hour.
A timer in a secret villain lair can never mean a good thing.
Eddy’s words suddenly echo through your mind, ‘you will find out about it tomorrow—everyone will.’ Whatever is planned to happen tonight, seems to be important enough to be relayed by national news, and that has your heart racing in apprehension.
“What do we do now?” you whisper at Leon, fully aware of how you always seem to seek out his guidance in times of stress.
He looks at you with gentle warmth, a familiar feeling of adoration spreading through his chest at the sight of you. But his expression quickly morphs into something more serious as he thinks through the next step.
The choice is made for him, however, when incoming footsteps are heard, no doubt those of the guests that were upstairs. He grabs your hand and leads you where the hallway takes a sharp turn, keeping a secure grip on you as he presses his back on the wall and you mirror his movement.
From there, you hear chatter of various voices, different conversations taking place at the same time. They seem to be heading towards the viewing room, and you strain to pick up on any valuable piece of information.
“I can assure you, you will be amazed by its effectiveness,” a male voice speaks and Leon peeks past the corner just enough to spot Adams. “I was explaining before to Eddy—who seems to be running late, by the way—about how conclusive the trials have been. Even if we were interrupted during that last batch.”
“I’m sorry again about your wife, Marcus,” a tall man replies, and gestures to the scientist to head inside the room. From his amber locks, the agent can guess it's Eddy’s brother.
“Thank you, Rob… It hasn't been easy…”
After that, the conversation grows muffled as the men disappear from the hallway with a couple more guests following. You stay quiet, still holding hands with Leon, until quietness returns and the door shuts.
“He’s demonstrating 'effectiveness,’” the blonde sighs in exasperation. “So I guess they're planning on testing the chips… Which means people are in imminent danger if that timer is anything to go by.”
“Why do rich people suck ass so bad?” you huff, and he responds with a squeeze to your palm.
“I don't know, kiddo, but this shit never ends…”
Leon knows an hour is an awfully short amount of time, and the DSO needs to be alerted as fast as possible to try and prevent what could possibly be a bioterrorist attack. He has no idea how many people are at risk, but those screens showed various locations in the area, including D.C. It’s bad enough if even one person gets their brains turned into mush, let alone multiple.
“Wait, look,” you suddenly interrupt his thoughts with a pointed finger.
Down the hallway, a red ‘EXIT’ sign shines by a gate to your great relief. As soon as you’re out, you can call Hunnigan, and backup can be brought in to fix the situation.
This time, it's you who pulls Leon along, and he feels his heart stutter as you lead the way with your focused expression. He knows that deep inside, you feel guilty about the earlier moment with Eddy, even though it was him who inserted himself in your plan. He has to admit, though, he could get used to holding hands with you on missions—he just hopes he doesn't have to deal with any more involuntary cucking as a trade-off.
Pushing the heavy door open, you find yourselves in an emergency staircase and sigh of relief. Even villains seem to be aware of fire safety. But as you’re about to ascend to reach back a level with signal, you notice a sign with an arrow pointing downstairs: ‘Security.’
“Do you think there's camera feeds of this place down there?” you raise an eyebrow at Leon, and he already knows your plan.
“Probably… But before we do that, we call Ingrid first.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Fifteen minutes later, HQ has been informed when you were able to catch radio transmission up the stairs, and you're currently making your way back down knowing a team will arrive soon enough to further investigate. For now, you’re just grateful no one is present in the vicinity.
Despite Leon’s protests asking you to leave to go find Martin and Ferreira, you stubbornly insisted on following along, especially with the timer in mind.
“I don't have time to go find them and then get back down. I’m sure the emergency doors are locked anyway, because then anyone would be able to get in here.”
The agent rolls his eyes as you continue on your tangent on why your presence is necessary, and only stop once you reach the lower level and immediately find a guard scrolling on his phone by the entrance.
You both freeze in place, and the man slowly lifts his head with a confused expression. “Are you with the party? Sorry, but this is a restricted area.”
“Oh, so sorry! We were looking for the, uh, washroom,” you mumble out a lie.
“In the fire escape?” He arches a brow and straightens his posture. Eyeing you in suspicion, he then focuses on the blonde as if sizing him up, before slowly reaching for his holstered gun.
A beat passes where no one moves, until, suddenly, Leon lurches to land a fist square on the man’s jaw, knocking him down faster than he can withdraw his firearm.
“Jesus Christ, Leon!” you gasp, eyes wide as you watch him lower the man’s unconscious body to the floor.
“Too much?” he chuckles lowly, then grabs the guard’s weapon and badge. “Couldn't risk it.”
You shake your head, and yank the ID tag from his grasp before touching it to the door’s lock so it opens with a beep. “That was the old cop in you that came out just now.”
“Hey! I’m trying to keep us alive here,” Leon scoffs, dragging the limp body inside as you hold the gate open for him. “Plus, we only have like…” a pause, and he checks his watch with a grumble “...forty minutes left. So move it, rookie.”
Huffing and puffing, you help him settle the man in a supply closet, moving cleaning supplies out of the way and taking care to immobilize his wrists behind him with his own tie.
Once done, you both stand with an exhale, the agent appreciating your handy work of the makeshift restraints.
“I taught you that one,” he grins proudly, and you nudge his elbow with a soft smile.
“You taught me everything.”
A warmth settles in his chest at your words, and as he watches your expression, he can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the way you still look so much like your younger self. You grew up, your features that of a woman rather than a girl, but your heart has remained unchanged—devoted as ever.
He looks back down at the guard, at the way you just helped him tie up an underpaid worker who is probably just doing his job, and a wave of that familiar guilt hits him again.
The worst part is he doesn't even feel that bad for the passed out man. He probably knew his employers are shady people, so it's kind of on him for working here in the first place… No, he feels bad for you. For the fact you even have to be a part of any of this to begin with.
“Sometimes, I wish I didn't,” he whispers before he can stop himself.
You frown at his words, hurt blooming in your heart at his apparent regret over having you under his wing. You subconsciously take a step away from him, crossing your arms protectively.
“Are you still on about me picking the wrong job?”
Leon winces at the bitterness in your tone, but he won't lie to you. Not when he has so many things he needs to make right.
“You know I will never change my mind when it comes to that.”
He gives you one more lingering glance, before walking past you and back out into the hall of the security floor. You follow silently, ruminating on your own thoughts as you try to figure out once again his mysterious emotions.
“But you still helped me…” you point out quietly. “You still used every card in your deck to help me make it up until here.”
He pauses, turning to you with a melancholic smile that nearly makes you want to cry from how sad he looks. You hate to see him so seemingly sorrowful simply because of the career choices you made.
“And I would do it again if it makes you happy, kid,” he murmurs, his deep voice barely audible in the eerie place. “I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”
Sighing from an odd mix of relief and pain, you nod with a small smile. “I know… And I would too.”
Leon doesn't like how easily you return his promise, but he knows your love for him runs deep, and for that he is infinitely grateful—despite how much the guilt it causes burns.
A short while later, you were able to lock two more guards in a bathroom while they were using the urinals. A handy, specialized door wedge did the trick—compliments of Hunnigan. As for their radios, you stuck a small signal jammer on the wall that should be enough for a few feet radius. Finally, Leon started leading the way towards the controls, gun in hand, with the distant banging on the bathroom door serving as background noise.
You’re able to view inside the desired room through a thick glass window on the metal gate. It looks empty. Good. You then use the badge on the card reader to let you both inside.
What you expected to be a regular, boring security room with a few camera feeds and old desk chairs, turned out to be sterile white walls and sleek command panels with a thousand buttons. This is all most certainly recently built.
“What even is this place?” Leon frowns, his eyes landing on an array of screens.
Walking closer, you discern random numbers, location names, and multiple countdown timers. None of it really makes sense, but on one of the monitors you find the camera feed you were hoping for of the gathering upstairs.
“There,” you point and move to try and figure out the control panel to get it to play sound. It takes a short while, but you seem to finally get a hang of how the computer system operates.
From your peripheral vision, you notice Leon watching you intently with a small, appreciative smile and he can't help but compliment you. “You know you’ve always had a knack for these things.”
“The one thing you didn't teach me,” you tease and he rolls his eyes playfully.
A moment later, and sound finally comes through so you’re able to listen in on the group of elites who appear to be watching Adams speak as he seemingly delivers a speech.
“—with staggered releases, we’ll watch public reaction slowly increase into panic, which is our goal of course. But this is first and foremost a test run, so all you lovely ladies and gents can decide the worthiness of the product.”
Through the grainy quality of the monitor, you see the tall redhead from earlier, Eddy’s brother, straighten in his seat. “Can you explain the details of the plan again for those unfamiliar.”
“With pleasure,” Adams smiles crookedly, then readjusts his red tie before continuing. “Once we have the reaction desired, we simply offer the solution to the problem: a preventative cure.”
You frown, leaning closer to listen to the man spilling the valuable secrets you have been seeking, and Leon seems just as intrigued as you.
“You see, the goal is for this to be sold as a virus rather than a targeted attack. Which is why the strikes will happen within specific areas, to simulate the spread of a disease that only we have the ‘vaccine’ against.”
“But there is no vaccine,” a woman concludes at the back of the room.
“Correct. We will administer placebo injections, but in reality we can disable the M2423—or the chips—remotely… As long as we hit focal areas, like our beloved capital, the threat will be taken seriously enough that a cure for this new, deadly and contagious 'disease’ will be the number one sought after solution.”
There’s a silence in the room that matches yours and Leon’s. You can feel your heart beating in your temples from adrenaline at hearing the terrible plans these deranged people have for the night.
Edd Chastain is the one who speaks next after blowing out cigar smoke—seemingly a family favorite. “How did you get these things inside of them again?”
“We had different hospital locations tamper with common vaccines and shots—flu, MMR, hepatitis, vitamin K etc.”
The last mention has you freezing in place, your heart lurching in your chest and prompting Leon to look at you warily.
“What is it?” He steps closer, his frown deepening.
“Vitamin K… That’s given to newborns,” you whisper in shock. “I-I remember Claire explaining this to me when Gabby was born. They’re—fuck, they're putting brain exploding chips inside fucking newborns…”
Before the agent by your side can process the stomach churning news, Chastain speaks again in an arrogant tone.
“This sounds all fine and dandy until they can trace the injections back to you. Then what?”
Adams purses his lips, but he smiles nonetheless. “No worries, my team and I have started this process many months ago thanks to our generous early benefactors such as you, Mr. Chastain... It would be virtually impossible to conclude that a vaccine someone had last spring is the reason for their sudden demise now.”
“How many targets tonight?” the woman in the back asks.
“We have eight transmitters ready to release the sound frequencies that will trigger the bursts, and two targets for each. Which means sixteen total.”
“Sixteen people is not a lot. I don't see how this will prompt the government to want to rapidly invest in a cure,” Edd waves a dismissive hand, making his golden watch catch in the dimmed light.
You see Leon visibly twitch at the nonchalance exhibited by the participants of this unhinged conversation, and he seems to have officially reached his limit.
“Alright, fuck these wastes of oxygen,” he grits out, tightening his hold on the borrowed gun. “I’m running upstairs to let HQ know about this bullshit, and then I’ll come back to deal with these fuckers myself.”
“Count me in,” you mutter, and the both of you are about to turn on your heels when Marcus Adams’ voice comes through again.
“Well, Mr. Chastain, you’ll be happy to know I have a target that is sure to cause a stir… You see, the day my beloved Caitriona sacrificed herself for this project—after some government lackeys interfered—we were able to momentarily get a hold of one of them by subduing him…” he pauses, letting suspense fill the room before continuing. “If my deductions are correct, we have infected a DSO worker—meaning someone who operates directly under the president. Now if that doesn't get their attention, then I don't know what will.”
Time completely halts around you when you realize the agent they 'momentarily got a hold of’ is none other than the one standing beside you, his blue eyes wide in shock as he comes to the same conclusion.
Once the elevator reaches the secret floor, you’re met by a hallway with vintage, wine-colored carpet and various art paintings lining the dark walls. The place looks old, which does not come as a surprise considering the hotel’s age, but everything seems to be maintained with utmost care.
Leon keeps himself one step ahead of you in a protective stance, his fingers twitching for a gun he doesn't have, and his body missing the heat of yours now that he’s forced to put distance between you. He’s not sure where this is leading, but he has a bad feeling growing in his chest.
To make matters worse, the signal here seems to be nonexistent—your attempt to call Hunnigan through your bracelet having failed miserably. You can't go back for fear of being detected, so with no choice but to advance, both your steps are careful yet hurried as you continue down the long corridor.
After passing a few gates that wouldn't open without special codes—Pop-pop’s birthday could only get you so far—you finally come across a set of double doors with a plaque on the wall that reads ‘Viewing Room.’ Observing it closer, the golden slab seems brand new in contrast with the place’s antique appearance, like it had just been installed there not too long ago.
With your interest peaked, you watch Leon try the handle, and to your surprise, it yields open. He keeps an arm outstretched in your path that signals you to stay back as he peeps through the crack and frowns at whatever he sees.
You can’t wait any longer, so you slide under him and peek as well, prompting him to huff. But, he doesn't say anything considering the room inside already has a couple of people who appear to be waiting staff. From your spot, it looks like a home cinema. A luxurious one, with comfortable leather recliners and trays of food and drinks on small tables—a cinephile's dream.
But what makes you frown along Leon is what's playing on the big screen. It doesn't show a movie, or a show, or whatever documentary aristocrats are interested in. Instead, it’s a split display of multiple news channels—all the main ones, in addition to local stations of the DMV area.
You would think it's simply an idle screen to prepare for the night’s show, but it seems a deliberate choice as each broadcast has a quadrant surrounding its frame that reads a countdown timer of about one hour.
A timer in a secret villain lair can never mean a good thing.
Eddy’s words suddenly echo through your mind, ‘you will find out about it tomorrow—everyone will.’ Whatever is planned to happen tonight, seems to be important enough to be relayed by national news, and that has your heart racing in apprehension.
“What do we do now?” you whisper at Leon, fully aware of how you always seem to seek out his guidance in times of stress.
He looks at you with gentle warmth, a familiar feeling of adoration spreading through his chest at the sight of you. But his expression quickly morphs into something more serious as he thinks through the next step.
The choice is made for him, however, when incoming footsteps are heard, no doubt those of the guests that were upstairs. He grabs your hand and leads you where the hallway takes a sharp turn, keeping a secure grip on you as he presses his back on the wall and you mirror his movement.
From there, you hear chatter of various voices, different conversations taking place at the same time. They seem to be heading towards the viewing room, and you strain to pick up on any valuable piece of information.
“I can assure you, you will be amazed by its effectiveness,” a male voice speaks and Leon peeks past the corner just enough to spot Adams. “I was explaining before to Eddy—who seems to be running late, by the way—about how conclusive the trials have been. Even if we were interrupted during that last batch.”
“I’m sorry again about your wife, Marcus,” a tall man replies, and gestures to the scientist to head inside the room. From his amber locks, the agent can guess it's Eddy’s brother.
“Thank you, Rob… It hasn't been easy…”
After that, the conversation grows muffled as the men disappear from the hallway with a couple more guests following. You stay quiet, still holding hands with Leon, until quietness returns and the door shuts.
“He’s demonstrating 'effectiveness,’” the blonde sighs in exasperation. “So I guess they're planning on testing the chips… Which means people are in imminent danger if that timer is anything to go by.”
“Why do rich people suck ass so bad?” you huff, and he responds with a squeeze to your palm.
“I don't know, kiddo, but this shit never ends…”
Leon knows an hour is an awfully short amount of time, and the DSO needs to be alerted as fast as possible to try and prevent what could possibly be a bioterrorist attack. He has no idea how many people are at risk, but those screens showed various locations in the area, including D.C. It’s bad enough if even one person gets their brains turned into mush, let alone multiple.
“Wait, look,” you suddenly interrupt his thoughts with a pointed finger.
Down the hallway, a red ‘EXIT’ sign shines by a gate to your great relief. As soon as you’re out, you can call Hunnigan, and backup can be brought in to fix the situation.
This time, it's you who pulls Leon along, and he feels his heart stutter as you lead the way with your focused expression. He knows that deep inside, you feel guilty about the earlier moment with Eddy, even though it was him who inserted himself in your plan. He has to admit, though, he could get used to holding hands with you on missions—he just hopes he doesn't have to deal with any more involuntary cucking as a trade-off.
Pushing the heavy door open, you find yourselves in an emergency staircase and sigh of relief. Even villains seem to be aware of fire safety. But as you’re about to ascend to reach back a level with signal, you notice a sign with an arrow pointing downstairs: ‘Security.’
“Do you think there's camera feeds of this place down there?” you raise an eyebrow at Leon, and he already knows your plan.
“Probably… But before we do that, we call Ingrid first.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Fifteen minutes later, HQ has been informed when you were able to catch radio transmission up the stairs, and you're currently making your way back down knowing a team will arrive soon enough to further investigate. For now, you’re just grateful no one is present in the vicinity.
Despite Leon’s protests asking you to leave to go find Martin and Ferreira, you stubbornly insisted on following along, especially with the timer in mind.
“I don't have time to go find them and then get back down. I’m sure the emergency doors are locked anyway, because then anyone would be able to get in here.”
The agent rolls his eyes as you continue on your tangent on why your presence is necessary, and only stop once you reach the lower level and immediately find a guard scrolling on his phone by the entrance.
You both freeze in place, and the man slowly lifts his head with a confused expression. “Are you with the party? Sorry, but this is a restricted area.”
“Oh, so sorry! We were looking for the, uh, washroom,” you mumble out a lie.
“In the fire escape?” He arches a brow and straightens his posture. Eyeing you in suspicion, he then focuses on the blonde as if sizing him up, before slowly reaching for his holstered gun.
A beat passes where no one moves, until, suddenly, Leon lurches to land a fist square on the man’s jaw, knocking him down faster than he can withdraw his firearm.
“Jesus Christ, Leon!” you gasp, eyes wide as you watch him lower the man’s unconscious body to the floor.
“Too much?” he chuckles lowly, then grabs the guard’s weapon and badge. “Couldn't risk it.”
You shake your head, and yank the ID tag from his grasp before touching it to the door’s lock so it opens with a beep. “That was the old cop in you that came out just now.”
“Hey! I’m trying to keep us alive here,” Leon scoffs, dragging the limp body inside as you hold the gate open for him. “Plus, we only have like…” a pause, and he checks his watch with a grumble “...forty minutes left. So move it, rookie.”
Huffing and puffing, you help him settle the man in a supply closet, moving cleaning supplies out of the way and taking care to immobilize his wrists behind him with his own tie.
Once done, you both stand with an exhale, the agent appreciating your handy work of the makeshift restraints.
“I taught you that one,” he grins proudly, and you nudge his elbow with a soft smile.
“You taught me everything.”
A warmth settles in his chest at your words, and as he watches your expression, he can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the way you still look so much like your younger self. You grew up, your features that of a woman rather than a girl, but your heart has remained unchanged—devoted as ever.
He looks back down at the guard, at the way you just helped him tie up an underpaid worker who is probably just doing his job, and a wave of that familiar guilt hits him again.
The worst part is he doesn't even feel that bad for the passed out man. He probably knew his employers are shady people, so it's kind of on him for working here in the first place… No, he feels bad for you. For the fact you even have to be a part of any of this to begin with.
“Sometimes, I wish I didn't,” he whispers before he can stop himself.
You frown at his words, hurt blooming in your heart at his apparent regret over having you under his wing. You subconsciously take a step away from him, crossing your arms protectively.
“Are you still on about me picking the wrong job?”
Leon winces at the bitterness in your tone, but he won't lie to you. Not when he has so many things he needs to make right.
“You know I will never change my mind when it comes to that.”
He gives you one more lingering glance, before walking past you and back out into the hall of the security floor. You follow silently, ruminating on your own thoughts as you try to figure out once again his mysterious emotions.
“But you still helped me…” you point out quietly. “You still used every card in your deck to help me make it up until here.”
He pauses, turning to you with a melancholic smile that nearly makes you want to cry from how sad he looks. You hate to see him so seemingly sorrowful simply because of the career choices you made.
“And I would do it again if it makes you happy, kid,” he murmurs, his deep voice barely audible in the eerie place. “I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”
Sighing from an odd mix of relief and pain, you nod with a small smile. “I know… And I would too.”
Leon doesn't like how easily you return his promise, but he knows your love for him runs deep, and for that he is infinitely grateful—despite how much the guilt it causes burns.
A short while later, you were able to lock two more guards in a bathroom while they were using the urinals. A handy, specialized door wedge did the trick—compliments of Hunnigan. As for their radios, you stuck a small signal jammer on the wall that should be enough for a few feet radius. Finally, Leon started leading the way towards the controls, gun in hand, with the distant banging on the bathroom door serving as background noise.
You’re able to view inside the desired room through a thick glass window on the metal gate. It looks empty. Good. You then use the badge on the card reader to let you both inside.
What you expected to be a regular, boring security room with a few camera feeds and old desk chairs, turned out to be sterile white walls and sleek command panels with a thousand buttons. This is all most certainly recently built.
“What even is this place?” Leon frowns, his eyes landing on an array of screens.
Walking closer, you discern random numbers, location names, and multiple countdown timers. None of it really makes sense, but on one of the monitors you find the camera feed you were hoping for of the gathering upstairs.
“There,” you point and move to try and figure out the control panel to get it to play sound. It takes a short while, but you seem to finally get a hang of how the computer system operates.
From your peripheral vision, you notice Leon watching you intently with a small, appreciative smile and he can't help but compliment you. “You know you’ve always had a knack for these things.”
“The one thing you didn't teach me,” you tease and he rolls his eyes playfully.
A moment later, and sound finally comes through so you’re able to listen in on the group of elites who appear to be watching Adams speak as he seemingly delivers a speech.
“—with staggered releases, we’ll watch public reaction slowly increase into panic, which is our goal of course. But this is first and foremost a test run, so all you lovely ladies and gents can decide the worthiness of the product.”
Through the grainy quality of the monitor, you see the tall redhead from earlier, Eddy’s brother, straighten in his seat. “Can you explain the details of the plan again for those unfamiliar.”
“With pleasure,” Adams smiles crookedly, then readjusts his red tie before continuing. “Once we have the reaction desired, we simply offer the solution to the problem: a preventative cure.”
You frown, leaning closer to listen to the man spilling the valuable secrets you have been seeking, and Leon seems just as intrigued as you.
“You see, the goal is for this to be sold as a virus rather than a targeted attack. Which is why the strikes will happen within specific areas, to simulate the spread of a disease that only we have the ‘vaccine’ against.”
“But there is no vaccine,” a woman concludes at the back of the room.
“Correct. We will administer placebo injections, but in reality we can disable the M2423—or the chips—remotely… As long as we hit focal areas, like our beloved capital, the threat will be taken seriously enough that a cure for this new, deadly and contagious 'disease’ will be the number one sought after solution.”
There’s a silence in the room that matches yours and Leon’s. You can feel your heart beating in your temples from adrenaline at hearing the terrible plans these deranged people have for the night.
Edd Chastain is the one who speaks next after blowing out cigar smoke—seemingly a family favorite. “How did you get these things inside of them again?”
“We had different hospital locations tamper with common vaccines and shots—flu, MMR, hepatitis, vitamin K etc.”
The last mention has you freezing in place, your heart lurching in your chest and prompting Leon to look at you warily.
“What is it?” He steps closer, his frown deepening.
“Vitamin K… That’s given to newborns,” you whisper in shock. “I-I remember Claire explaining this to me when Gabby was born. They’re—fuck, they're putting brain exploding chips inside fucking newborns…”
Before the agent by your side can process the stomach churning news, Chastain speaks again in an arrogant tone.
“This sounds all fine and dandy until they can trace the injections back to you. Then what?”
Adams purses his lips, but he smiles nonetheless. “No worries, my team and I have started this process many months ago thanks to our generous early benefactors such as you, Mr. Chastain... It would be virtually impossible to conclude that a vaccine someone had last spring is the reason for their sudden demise now.”
“How many targets tonight?” the woman in the back asks.
“We have eight transmitters ready to release the sound frequencies that will trigger the bursts, and two targets for each. Which means sixteen total.”
“Sixteen people is not a lot. I don't see how this will prompt the government to want to rapidly invest in a cure,” Edd waves a dismissive hand, making his golden watch catch in the dimmed light.
You see Leon visibly twitch at the nonchalance exhibited by the participants of this unhinged conversation, and he seems to have officially reached his limit.
“Alright, fuck these wastes of oxygen,” he grits out, tightening his hold on the borrowed gun. “I’m running upstairs to let HQ know about this bullshit, and then I’ll come back to deal with these fuckers myself.”
“Count me in,” you mutter, and the both of you are about to turn on your heels when Marcus Adams’ voice comes through again.
“Well, Mr. Chastain, you’ll be happy to know I have a target that is sure to cause a stir… You see, the day my beloved Caitriona sacrificed herself for this project—after some government lackeys interfered—we were able to momentarily get a hold of one of them by subduing him…” he pauses, letting suspense fill the room before continuing. “If my deductions are correct, we have infected a DSO worker—meaning someone who operates directly under the president. Now if that doesn't get their attention, then I don't know what will.”
Time completely halts around you when you realize the agent they 'momentarily got a hold of’ is none other than the one standing beside you, his blue eyes wide in shock as he comes to the same conclusion.
he's with you day by day, but as each one passes, you feel him growing distant. unreachable. you're not quite sure what changed.
content: angst, established relationship, gender neutral reader
warnings: might be ooc ?? also drinking (it's kaveh)
word count: 3.9k
author's note: HI TUMBLR this is my very first post here!!! hello!!!! also my first time writing in a hot minute so apologies if it's rusty. enjoy :)
sunday
you wake up drowsy and cold. the window is open, letting in a cool breeze. the space next to you on the bed is empty. the bedroom door is closed, though from the other side you can hear the sound of sizzling oil on a pan. kaveh cooks breakfast for you on the weekends, since his schedule doesn't allow him to on weekdays. you don't mind.
you go through the usual weekend morning routine. wash your face, slowly wake your body. the weather today isn't unpleasant; the sun hides behind the clouds, but you sense no sign of upcoming rain. kaveh greets you in the kitchen, wearing his pajamas and a smile. you give him a kiss on the cheek, and you chat about the weather while he flips strips of bacon on the stove.
it's just another sunday. unremarkable, but cozy. you spend time together over breakfast, laughing over the slightly burnt bits of bacon. he isn't used to cooking, since he rarely gets the chance, but he always tries his best. diffident apologies are never excluded from his dishes. seeing his shy smile makes you warm and appreciative.
later, you lay on the couch with him, entangled legs but separate worlds. he hunches over his laptop and a sketchbook, working on a project. the same kind he works on during the weekdays, and late into the nights. you tell him he should rest, he needs a break. he could watch a movie with you. you two could go out somewhere. you haven't gone on a proper date in a while, you tell him. it's sunday, he should be free of his work for once.
he waves you off. he's almost done. just a bit more, he claims, just like he always does. his eyes remain glued to the drafts and the blueprints. they don't catch how your lips straighten into a line, too focused on the ones on his screen.
you've been with him for almost a year. there was a time you could draw him away from his work. in the earlier days, all it took were a kiss and a soft plea, and you would have all of him on you, his hands, his gaze, his attention. nowadays you're not sure if he even hears you sometimes.
the rest of the day is uneventful. you do what you can to pass the time. you read a book as his keyboard clacks, his pencil scratches against the paper. he asks if the sounds bother you, suggests that you could read in the bedroom instead, it'd be more comfortable. they do bother you, just the slightest bit, but you shake your head and say you want to stay.
that night, you get ready for bed together. you brush your teeth together, smile at each other in the mirror. you kiss each other goodnight, and sleep with your backs to one another.
monday
kaveh's alarm wakes you. it trills in your ears, long and loud. you aren't accustomed to the sound lately. usually, you wake to your own alarm. this is the first time in a while you've heard his.
the alarm rings on and on, yet kaveh remains still, deeply asleep, lying on his back. you don't want him to wake up. you stare at his face, peaceful in his sleep, not burdened with stress or frustration from his work. those two emotions seemed to be all he would take home with him during the weekdays. something tells you this was the first good sleep he's had in a while.
all too soon, he stirs and wakes. he turns off the noise and plants a kiss to your head, apologizes for waking you, then moves around the room and around your little apartment, getting ready for work.
he leaves early. every day, he must be in his office at 8:00 a.m. to talk to clients, manage whatever building of his is being constructed at the moment, the works. he used to tell you all about it, and you would listen regardless of how much or how little you understood of his work. these days he just doesn't have the time or energy.
on the other hand, you work from home. your job is one that requires only your computer and half of your day, more or less. your own alarm goes off not long after kaveh has left. your days without him are routine and simple. you make the bed, make yourself breakfast, get to work for a bit. some days you clean the house, other days you get the groceries. it's mundane, and today is no different.
you set up your laptop and do your work on the small dining table near the kitchen. your little shared apartment doesn't have enough space for a study, so you and kaveh make do with the rooms you have.
later in the afternoon, after you've finished your work tasks, you decide to cook something for kaveh once he gets home. upon inspecting the cupboards, you discover that you have all the ingredients needed for a simple cream of mushroom soup. it's his favorite. when you finish, you let the pot sit on the stove.
the rest of the day is uneventful. you're used to the boredom. you send kaveh a text, saying you made him his favorite soup. he responds a couple hours later with a thank you.
his job is supposed to end at 5 p.m., but you count yourself lucky if he makes it home before 7. more often than not, he stays at his office overtime, sometimes because clients and contractors hold him up, though mostly because he throws himself into his work and loses track of time. you never saw the point in that, since he always ended up bringing his work home and doing it here anyway.
when he arrives home, he carries not only his suitcase but also an air of dejectedness you've come to be well acquainted with.
you try to comfort him as best you can, but as the months have gone by, your company seems to have less and less of an effect as a distraction from his woes. you sit with him on the couch and ask him what's wrong, but he brushes you off. the usual, he says. that's what he tends to reply with these days, and it's been so long since he's elaborated further that you can hardly recall what "the usual" is anymore.
you miss the way he would talk your ear off about all of his problems, the way he would pass them all onto you for you to dispel them with sweet, comforting words and gestures. you were his rock.
silence stretches between you and him. you aren't quite sure how to break it and even less sure that he wants you to.
tentatively, you tell him a little about your day. there isn't much to tell, and you feel somewhat bad telling him about your job that is less taxing than his. he seems to be listening, but he doesn't have much to say in response. only a few hums and nods. he must be exhausted.
you remember the soup you made him, and you tell him. his lips twitch up into a small smile in acknowledgement, though his ruby red eyes, weighed down by eyebags, hold only his tiredness.
when you set down two bowls of soup on the dining table, soft snores emanate from kaveh's body, now haphazardly draped across the couch. you think to wake him for dinner, but something inside you makes you stop. you don't know what it is, but there's this feeling, a voice in your head saying he'd probably just prefer to sleep there undisturbed. it's not a new occurrence.
so you eat alone. the second bowl goes into the fridge.
tuesday
this time, your own alarm is what wakes you. when you get up, you find that kaveh has already left for work. you guess he slept on the couch all night, because you didn't feel him climb into bed with you, and the sheets on his side of the bed remain unwrinkled.
you go through the usual cycle of work and boredom. nothing noteworthy happens with your work or around the house. you start pondering many things in your free time. you think about how you should probably clean the house one of these days. there's been a bit of dust on the counters, the shelves.
you think about kaveh, who must be working himself to the bone. you know he loves his job. no matter the obstacles he would have to face, all the issues and complications, he would always express to you that there isn't anything else he'd rather be doing.
nowadays… he doesn't tell you much of anything. it's like he closed off. you know he still loves his job. it's been his passion to be an architect his whole life. you don't sense that that has changed, but… something else has. his job has always been a demanding one. you're used to seeing him come home exhausted, stressed. but he confides in you about it less and less. you don't know why.
the question of why isn't a particularly new one. it's been there in the back of your mind, occasionally surfacing on days like this. you never had an answer, so you would usually push it away and pretend like there's nothing to question at all. that's what you intend to do today, just like the countless times before. you don't want to bother him with it anyway.
when he gets home, it's the same, but he seems less tired than the day before. he brought home takeout for dinner, and the two of you make small talk as you eat. you bring out the soup from yesterday too, and he thanks you for it. he apologizes that he didn't eat it yesterday. you wave him off, it's not a big deal.
the conversation doesn't get detailed or personal. any spectator that would happen upon the two of you might not realize that you've been together for over a year. the words that flow between you and him are friendly but not intimate. an unfamiliar feeling seems to tug at your heart, something that feels like sadness or confusion or dread, but you ignore it as you exchange idle chatter.
kaveh offers to do the dishes, but you stop him and do them yourself. he gives you a smile, and you see the tinge of gratitude in his tired eyes.
later, when you're about to head to bed, you bid kaveh goodnight while he hunches over a sketchbook on the couch, and you know he'll probably fall asleep there again.
before you go, you watch him from the hall; he's right there, yet somehow he feels… unreachable. your chest twinges again with that strange feeling. your lips part and you feel like you want to say something, but there's really nothing to be said.
you face kaveh's side of the bed when you lay. you feel a little cold, and the soft light peeking from beneath the door feels so far away.
wednesday
when you wake up, his side of the bed is empty and seemingly undisturbed once again. part of you thinks that maybe he just fixes and straightens out the sheets before he leaves, but you know that isn't something he'd do.
the rest of the house isn't as empty, though. as you make your morning coffee, you idly look around your place. it feels like it's been a while since you've really seen it.
most of it just screams kaveh. he decorated the place when you first moved in. you helped choose some of the furniture, but ultimately, you let him have the creative freedon to do with them as he pleased. some stray sketches are scattered on the coffee table in the living room. next to them, a couple of pencils. you pick up one of the sheets of paper and see a gorgeous landscape drawn on it. a garden with winding pathways and dreamlike flora and a romantic gazebo right at the center.
something seems to gnaw at the inside of your chest. a feeling of yearning. you're not sure why, but this drawing has made you feel like you're missing something.
you miss kaveh. the realization strikes you so overwhelmingly that your grip on the sketch tightens, your frown deepens. you miss him.
so what now?
you sift through a few more of his drawings, most of which are unfinished. as your eyes skim over his messy handwriting on each piece of paper, next to each grand building and humble house, the urge to call him, to hear his voice, to feel him with you becomes too much to bear.
where is this coming from? why are you feeling this? he was with you last night, wasn't he?
no, not really.
…but in the end, you decide to keep your feelings to yourself, and you decide not to call and disturb him while he's at work. though, to at least satiate the gnawing and pulling and dragging in your chest, you shoot him a text saying you hope his work is going smoothly. he responds a little bit later with a thank you, saying he hopes the same for you. and that's enough.
thursday
you're surprised when the first thing you see upon waking up is kaveh's back. the clock on your nightstand reads 3:08 a.m. and everything else is dark, but you can just make out his silhouette lying next to you.
the aching in your heart comes back. you will yourself to push it down and go back to sleep, but it demands to be felt. you feel it stronger than ever, the urge to reach out to him and pull his body to yours and feel him against you. nothing should be stopping you, but you hesitate nonetheless. you prop yourself onto your elbow and gaze at him for a while. even here, mere inches away, he is unreachable. you lean down and ghost your lips on his shoulder and whisper i miss you before laying back down and drifting back to sleep.
when you wake up again, the morning sun colors the bedroom, and you see that kaveh no longer occupies the space next to you. the rumpled sheets in his place tell you that you didn't just dream of his presence there last night.
the day passes by in a blur. it feels like the only thing you're fully conscious of is the dull sadness in your heart. you miss kaveh overwhelmingly. it confuses you how far away he feels even when he's right next to you. it's as if some invisible barrier has grown between you and him. you just miss being close with him.
when he gets home, you expect your heart to lighten, but it only seems to weigh down on you more. you can't help but envelop him in a soft hug when he walks through the door. you hope he can feel some of the yearning in your embrace. he returns the hug halfheartedly. he's just tired from work.
as you have dinner together in the low light of the dining room, you can't help but watch everything kaveh does. he's the same as he'd been since you met him. the way he holds his fork is the same as it was when you first went out to dinner together. all his little mannerisms, the way his body moves with everything he does, it's all so familiar to you. his whole being is chronicled in your mind. you liked to think that there wasn't anything you didn't know about him, but lately, you aren't so sure anymore.
and so it's back once more, the urge to reach out, the urge to ask him so many things and feel him with you again. the feeling that he's so distant despite being right in front of you. unconsciously, your grip on your fork tightens. you watch him some more out of the corner of your eye, unsure. his eyes focus only on his food.
your thoughts and wants whirl around you until you can no longer bear the silence between you and him.
finally, you manage to open up and ask him. why are you so distant lately? why don't you tell me things anymore?
you intended to sound stronger, gentle but still confrontational, but you felt like a little kid as you spoke. like you doubted your own words, that your questions might be unreasonable.
he doesn't give you an answer. for a long time, he stays silent. he stops eating and refuses to meet your eyes. his name leaves your lips, so soft and so small that you think he didn't hear. so you repeat it, more insistently. your mind floods with pleas that lodge in your throat. please. answer. tell me.
seemingly sensing your growing desperation, kaveh looks into your hopeful and pleading eyes, and simply says: i don't know. i'm sorry.
in his ever-familiar scarlet eyes, in that face you know like the back of your hand, you feel like you see a stranger in the windows of his soul.
that night, you toss and turn alone in your bed. the emptiness of it used to be so easily excused as kaveh simply accidentally falling asleep with his work. only now did it occur to you that he might have been doing it intentionally.
your mind feels like a storm of confusion and frustration and sadness. you wish you had the strength and reason to scream at him. instead, hot tears fall onto his pillow where you lay your head.
friday
the day feels dull and empty. you aren't entirely sure what to do. you go through the motions of a normal work day, but it's obvious that you're lost and helpless. you feel weak, being so uncertain of where kaveh stands. you're certain that he still loves you... that maybe he's just going through something within the confines of his own mind. he needs only to let you in so you can repair the rift between you two, so you can heal whatever's broken inside him.
throughout the day, you subconsciously make a vague script of things you want to say to kaveh when he arrives home.
please tell me what's wrong, kaveh.
i'm here for you, kaveh.
please come back to me, kaveh.
every sentence formed is laced with desperation. it feels like you're screaming into an empty cave, no response besides the echo of your distress.
all you want is for things to go back to how they used to be. you yearn for kaveh's eyes to shine with all the love and adoration in his heart like they used to whenever he looked at you. you miss feeling his warm gaze, his strong arms around your body, conveying every ounce of affection he couldn't express with words.
you just miss his love.
strangely, the day feels excruciatingly long, but also as if it passed in the blink of an eye. you're entrapped within the haze of your own longing.
you don't realize how late it is when kaveh gets home. you intend to greet him casually, so that you don't overwhelm him. you intend to communicate your feelings to him over dinner. though you're overflowing with things to say, you don't wish to go overboard.
but you soon forget all of that, because one look at him slightly swaying by the entrance immediately tells you that he's drunk. all your thoughts are instantly replaced by concern. you rush to his side while he holds a hand against his head. instinctually, you begin fussing over him, asking him why he drank, how much he had. you know he's not good at handling his liquor. the redness taking over his face and neck indicate that he drank a lot.
you don't remember exactly when, but there was a time he promised you he'd stop drinking to this extent. one late night, he came home drunk after work, in a state similar to his current one. you fussed and worried about him. you lectured him too. so he promised he would stop, because he didn't want to cause you more distress.
now, you ask him why he's broken his promise. maybe you were right in thinking something was wrong with his work, enough to drive him to drinking again. in your flurry of emotions, you barely give him room to breathe. you seem to briefly forget yourself as you reach up and cradle his face in your hands. gently, you plead, tell me what's wrong.
he takes your wrists and sighs before stepping away from you. your name leaves his lips in a broken whisper. he looks at you, and you see every bit of your desperation and chaos in your reflection in his eyes. his eyes, which are pained, bloodshot, defeated. he apologizes.
you step towards him. you don't want an apology. you want an explanation. he starts by saying that he cares about you. that you still mean something to him, that you'll always be someone important. it sounds like he's rambling.
everything else blurs. the only things you fully perceive in the next moments are the words that leave his mouth and the look in his eyes as he says them, resolute, mournful, regretful.
i just don't love you anymore.
saturday
they say drunk words are sober thoughts. deep down, you knew he'd say those words eventually. you've been in denial for the longest time. always trying to push away the notion that he no longer loved you. you always thought it was impossible, but part of you knew this was inevitable. it didn't matter that he was drunk. you both knew the words have been sitting on his tongue for a while now.
maybe that's why you didn't cry that night. when you went into the bedroom and lied down, yes you were sad, but there was also a sort of relief there. a burden was lifted from your shoulders and his. you no longer have to pretend. as you drifted off to sleep, you felt somewhat weightless.
it's midday now. the gravity of what happened starts to settle in. you lay on the couch, which smells like him, and your tears fall onto the cushions. kaveh is nowhere in the house. he left you with a note, saying he'll be staying at a friend's place. in the note, he promised he'd come back and you two could talk. the tiny naive part of you felt hope that he meant to work things out with you. but you know it's hopeless.
the silence of your home stabs into your ears. you cocoon yourself in memories of him, in sheets with his scent, in his drawings and once endless musings. your heart won't stop reaching for what isn't there. you still don't fully understand how someone could just fall out of love. but there's nothing else you can do about it now.
all you can do is let him go.
sunday
you wake up drowsy and cold. you stare at the ceiling for a very long time. no sounds of sizzling or pleasant humming make their way to where you lie. birds chirp their morning song, car engines phase past.
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Diluc gazed out at the starry night sky from the balcony. His thoughts clouded with the constant burdens and duties he had to deal with. It was your husband’s destiny since birth. Voices of self doubt and stress echoed in his conflicted mind and heart.
Amber eyes filled with uncertainty, he had always been the epitome of stoicism, never letting his emotions surface. Yet tonight, something was different.
As he stood there lost in thought, a voice broke the silence. "My love?" it said, and he turned to see you standing there, concern etched across your face.
He sighed, not quite sure why he was letting his guard down tonight. "Yes, my dearest?" he replied, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
You stepped closer, your gaze never leaving his. "What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?"
His shoulders tensed, a mix of frustration and vulnerability in his eyes. It was as if something had snapped. "I.. I don’t know how much longer I can take dealing with all these burdens with Mondstadt alone.” His voice broke as he spoke.
Your hand gently reached out to touch his cheek, and he didn't pull away. "You don't have to. We're here for you, and I'm here for you."
Diluc's facade began to crack as he finally admitted, "Sometimes, it feels like everything is slipping away, and I can't control it."
You wrapped your arms around him, offering the comfort he rarely allowed himself to seek. "You don't have to be in control all the time, Diluc. Let yourself lean on someone for a change. Lean on me, my love.”
In that moment, he let go, allowing the weight of his burdens to rest on your shoulders. As you whispered words of support, the warmth of your embrace filled his heart with a sense of belonging he had long denied himself.
•••
The time had come for bed. You took his hair tie out and combed his fiery red locks gently with your hand as you both got comfy on the bed.
“My love mine, all mine..” You whispered and kissed the top of his head as his tired eyes shut. He leaned his head in your chest, your heartbeat being his favorite lullaby.
In the quiet of the night, in your arms, Diluc Ragvindr found solace in your presence, a moment of trust and love that began to heal the wounds he had carried by himself for far too long.
once again, you are lying awake in the early hours of the morning, waiting for suguru to return after his mission. the soft click of your door handle turning signals his arrival, and you quickly turn to greet him - like a puppy waiting for their owner. as he quietly steps in, the moonlight pooling into your dorm room illuminates his face, and you notice immediately. somethings off.
“sugu-“ you begin to say, but you stop yourself as he drops to the floor with a heavy thud. with his face in his hands he begins to sob, his back convulsing as deep guttural sounds rise from his chest. your heart shatters at the sound, and you practically leap off of your bed and onto his lap - where you pull him gently into you, allowing him to muffle his broken sobs into your chest. his tense body melts against yours, his large hands gripping almost painfully hard into your thighs as you gently untie his hair and let it fall between your fingers.
“baby,” you say in a soft whisper as you reach your hands to cup his face.
“tell me what’s wrong.” leaning down you kiss the moonlit tears under his weary eyes.
“tired,” he mumbles, his voice trembling slightly, “i’m just tired”
as you tilt his head upwards, his sorrowful eyes meet yours, and in that moment he feels safe. he can smell the familiar scent of your perfume, feel the smooth skin of your bare thigh under his fingertips and he relaxes just a little.
pressing your lips gently on his furrowed temple, you persist.
“i know sugu,” you say delicately, “i know you’re tired, but what’s made you so tired?”
his memory painfully flicks back to riko, lying on the cold floor in a dark pool of her own blood. it flickers to satoru, the absent look on his face as he carried her lifeless body through endless applauding crowds. and then he feels the bitter taste on his tongue, the residuals of the curse he’d just consumed assaulting his taste buds.
but then he remembers you, and all the other thoughts slowly fade as he feels the warm press of your lips on his cheek. simply your presence is enough to ground him again.
“talk to me, suguru.” you say, your voice soft and comforting.
“the curses,” he hisses, “they taste like shit.”
“i know baby.” you say, your voice laced with genuine sympathy.
still cupping his cheeks gently in your hands, you lean forward and bring your lips to his. you feel soft and sweet against his lips, which part unconsciously to allow himself to breathe you in. the taste of your cherry chapstick slowly washes away the bitter taste of the curses, and he leans in eagerly for more. his whole being is begging desperately for more of you, you who tastes so fucking good on his tongue.
he reluctantly lets you pull away, taking in one last breathe of you before you do.
“does that taste any better?” you ask with a soft smile, wrapping your arms around him.
he leans into the crook of your neck, so warm against your skin, and you can feel his lips twitch into a small smile.
“much better,” he sighs gently into you “thank you.”
pulling away from him you stand up and take his hand in yours, gesturing for him to follow you. he does so obediently, letting you guide him to your bathroom and he sits on the closed toilet seat lid when you gently push down on his broad shoulders.
he watches you attentively as you walk over to the drawer and begin to rummage through it. he leans back, letting his eyes trail all over your body - which looks so perfect in nothing but your panties and his oversized t-shirt.
“what are you doing?” he questions, titling his head at you.
you spin around comically, holding a large box which you had just dug out of your bathroom drawer.
“brushing your teeth for you to help with the taste” you say sheepishly.
he chuckles at that - it’s small and quiet, but you know it’s genuine. “i’ll go get my toothbrush from my room.” he says.
“no need for that,” you say enthusiastically, a huge grin erupting on your face, “i have everything i need in my suguru box.”
“your what?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you.
you open the box, pulling out a toothbrush and toothpaste before passing it to him triumphantly to look inside.
his lips curve upwards into an amused smile as he looks inside and sees: his favourite shampoo and conditioner, the face masks you ‘force’ him to do with you (which you know he secretly enjoys), a razor and scissors for when he allows you to spontaneously trim his hair and-
“condoms?” he questions teasingly, causing your face to heat up in embarrassment.
“er… i thought they might be useful.” you reply, hiding your face in your hands.
“come ‘ere,” he says fondly, guiding you to stand in between his legs before placing his large hands firmly on your hips “you’re cute.”
“you feeling any better love?” you ask him softly, still blushing a little, whilst squeezing out the toothpaste and placing your thumb under his chin to tilt his face up to you.
“i am,” he lets out a peaceful breath “i don’t know what i would do without you.”
as you brush his teeth for him, he takes all of you in. the beautiful light his darkness has longed for. you remind him every day of what it feels like to truly love a person, the way his skin reacts to your tender touch, the way his heart flutters whenever your voice calls his name, the way his whole body erupts from a single kiss. and in that moment he made a promise to himself, to keep going for you.
“i love you Suguru,” you whisper gently to him, wiping the last of the toothpaste from the corner of his lips, “i promise i’ll take care of you forever.”
he smiles softly, “i love you more than anything in this world.”
and then, he tugs your wrist and pulls you in, kissing you hard. he kisses you like a starving man, savouring yet devouring you at the same time. he kisses you like you’re all his, because you are and always will be.
fr tho why is everything smut😭😭 i wanna read angst that would ruin me, make me sick to my stomach and cry like there's no tomorrow bro i want a fanfic that is so devastating that i won't be able to function for the next few months
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Summary: Part 2 of My Favorite Girl, you unexpectedly return, missing everything and everybody. You want to make things clear, does he still love you? And do you still love him?
Tags: Two lines with curses, Bullying in work place, Angst to Fluff
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Itto remained seated by the docks, similar to how his days ended the past month. The burning ache of your departure never left him, in fact, it has only gotten worse, your lack of presence making itself known to him and a certain mini-sized bull.
Two months.
You've been gone two months, double the time you said you were gonna spend on Watatsumi Island. All his prayers to see a boat containing you had been ignored, much like the letters he sent to you while you were gone.
"Hey, babe! How's the job treating you?"
"I know you'll ace this job like you always do! What is it that Shrine Maidens do specifically that they have to switch locations? Well anyway, you'll do so good, you probably won't even need a full month to finish the job."
"Looooveee, don't let Ushi warm your side of the bed for too long, okay? His sleep moos are kinda annoying, ya know? Ohh, crap! He caught me writing you a letter!" This particular letter had a bite mark and a hoof print of the sleep moo-er.
"So... I don't know how to start this up without sounding like a total jerk, but... Well, first I wanna say happy birthday! Very very late happy birthday..." This letter was quite long, yet it received no reaction.
"You haven't returned any of my letters yet, which is totally okay if you're too busy! But I just wanna know if you're okay... I really miss you, Ushi misses you, the gang too! It been a little bit over a month, waiting for you~ I love youu." This letter was signed by each member of the Arataki Gang, each with their own little message.
A few letters of concern goes by, no response.
"It's been two months, my darling... When are you coming back home?" He wrote this one drunk and in tears, the feeling of missing you sinking deeper and deeper into his gut, not letting him shrug off the feeling like he did before.
"Boss! Look what I found in your mail!" The loud shout of Akira irritated the many people at the docks of Ritou, but it did its job of catching the oni's attention.
Itto turned to see the gang running up yo him. "Hey! You can't just go through my mail like that! What if you accidentally open ones for Y/N? She'd kill ya!"
"Yeah, I know, boss. But I actually got this from the mail delivery before it reached your house, sooo... this isn't your mail yet..." Akira remarked, proudly showing off his loophole.
Kuki Shinobu rolled her eyes before urging him, "Go on then, show him."
The Akira, Mamoru, and Genta excitedly showed Itto the letter in Akira's hands. "From Miss Y/N herself! Ohhh, is our Honorary Maiden about to return? We must rejoice!" Genta exclaimed, hyping up the other members too. Ushi himself couldn't keep his little body from jumping in joy.
"Looks like we don't have to go to Watatsumi for a grand Arataki rescue mission."
"Yeah, hmmm... I was kinda excited about that though."
"Now, hold on..." Shinobu broke their thrilled conversation. "We haven't even read the letter."
"Shinobu's right. Maybe... she just wants to say there's nothing to worry about, and she'll be staying there longer..." The hopeless voice coming from the oni, perhaps preparing for dissapointment, didn't go unnoticed. The gang noticed the change in attitude their leader has been having a few weeks after you left, getting worse with each passing day without you.
"Aww, boss, don't be like that! I'm sure Miss Y/N's had enough of Watatsumi now, she's probably preparing to head home right now." Mamoru attempted to comfort his boss, but Itto has told himself the same so many times that he feels like he can no longer hold the statement in a high regard.
Ushi softly pushed Itto's ankle with his hoof, urging him to open the letter.
"I apologize, my dear. This letter may be long overdue, but I want to let you know that I am doing just fine, there is nothing to worry about. I will be returning in just a short while, I trust that Ushi has kept my side of the bed warm for me, hehehe. To the Arataki Gang, I missed you all as well, I look forward to seeing you. And as for my beloved, Itto, let's talk once I'm there."
"She's really coming back home!" Everyone celebrated, but Itto's mind started spinning.
The most terrifying words... "Let's talk..." without a hint of emotion.
He looked at the letter once again...
Not even an I love you.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Itto didn't expect the "returning in just a short while" to be just a few hours after he received the letter.
But when he found the door of your shared home open, you were standing visibly inside with your luggage laying on the ground, he could only stand in shock.
He has been dreaming of your return for the past month, but he hasn't exactly thought about how he was gonna greet you, he wasn't even sure whether you were still upset about how he treated you then.
"Y/N..." He whispered the name of the love of his life into the air, being loud enough to just about graze your ears.
You turned to look at him, and immediately, your heart fluttered at the sight. The ever so idiotically dashing man you think is still yours. Your heart sunk at the thought, opting to smile at him instead.
"Itto... Am I still welcome here?" There's a pain constantly in your chest when you think of him. Is his home still your home? Have you been thoroughly replaced? Did you absence spark something between him and a certain ninja you know?
"What are you-" The oni started of confused. "Of course you're welcome here! This is your home, did you think Ushi clamed your ownership entirely? He only took up the bed, but that's it, really." You giggled at his remark, finding it easy to talk to him still.
"It's just that you probably didn't expect me to come back now. My letter was pretty late, as I've heard." You reasoned as you look around, seeing that practically nothing has changed from when you left.
"Well, you wanted to talk, so let's save that for later, why don't we?" Itto picked up all of your luggage, reminding you of his pride of not making two trips just to transport something, prompting you to smile as you nodded at his suggestion.
Your smile lit up the house he found so lonely while you were gone, so naturally, he noticed you smiling at him, and it brought a light feeling to his heart. "What? Missed your strong oni carrying everything for you?"
Your oni... Is he really?
Your smile faded a bit, but you made sure to catch yourself so he wouldn't notice, "Yeahh, I really did..."
...
"So you're the maiden from Narukami right? The one in love with an oni?" You caught the condecending tone of another Shrine Maiden as she spoke to you.
You decided to ignore the way she spoke to you. "Yes, that's right! How can I be of assistance?"
"Mind throwing this to the garbage, just some useless junk mail." She placed a sizable amount of crumbled and shredded paper onto your hands. "Thanks." After giving you the most ungrateful thanks, she walked away giggling with her friend.
You merely sighed, heading for the trash can, pouring the paper in the bin. Just as you were about to walk away, you noticed something on the paper... Ushi's signiture hoof print.
With a gasp, you grabbed it and read the letter that was at such a sorry state. The letter was light hearted, yet when you read it, you almost broke down right next to the garbage. You scooped up the rest of the paper you just threw away and hurriedly ran back to your quarters. Most of the letters are in pieces, but you still needed to see what they say.
After two months in Watatsumi, you only received their letters then.
...
You're finally back home, the suffocating air the Watatsumi Shrine Maidens breathe no longer in your lungs. You took another look of the house as Itto carried your things into your shared room.
In a tired manner, you sat down on the couch, and Ushi immediately took a seat next to you. "Hello, my little bull..." You cooed affectionately, patting his head, which he all responded to positively.
Everything is where it should be... so normal and so familiar.
"Darling! I have a surprise for you! I almost forgot since, ya know, you came unex-" Itto's excited voice and enthusiastic movements halted when he saw you sitting down on the couch. "Y/N...?"
Your head was down, small sobs came from your throat, and he can tell that you're trying yo hold them in. You curled up into a ball, sobs getting louader as you can no longer hold such a pain in your heart.
"Itto, please... I need you..." At your call, the oni dropped his gift to the ground and hurried to your side before pulling you to his chest. "Let me stay here..."
"Love, it's okay... I'm right here. And you can stay right here too." He kissed the top of your head, rubbing you shoulder to calm you down.
"Don't leave me all alone. Do-Don't forget about me..." You were begging, clinging onto him. Hoping he wouldn't walk out the door without a thought.
You wrapped your arms around him, sitting on his lap before burrying your face on his neck. The concerned oni didn't completely understand, but he understood that you needed him, so he's going to be there, he isn't leaving you alone in your home this time.
...
"Feeling better?" With a grin, Itto placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. The sight of you nodding left him feeling relieved.
"I'm right here, darling, alright?"
"Do you still love me?" The oni was shocked by the suddenness of your question. You looked at him, expecting an answer.
After composing himself, Itto stood in front of you at the dinner table, giving you the same look. "I fucking love you too much for you to start questioning my love."
"But you gave me a reason to... question it..." You pointed out sheepishly.
The man you love sighed, "I know, and I'm hoping... if you let me, I can make up for that..." He then proceeded to place a gift in front of you, right next to the hot chocolate.
"My very very late birthday present?" You gestured at the gift with a smile.
You felt in your heart that... you should trust his words, to let him prove his love. So you will.
"So you did receive my letters..." He teased right back.
"It's a long story..." You sighed, looking at the present in front of you.
"And I'll be hapy to hear it, love. Because I will always be here." Itto walked up to you and proceeded to wipe the lone tear that fell from your eye.
You stood up and jumped at him, hugging him immediately. "I'm really sorry, Itto... I shouldn't have left."
Tears yet again fell to your cheeks, "But when you forgot about my birthday, about our special day... about me..." You recalled the many nights you spent without him by your side.
"It made me... questionn your love..."
The love of your life hugged you back, letting you lean on his chest. "Then let me ask you now... Do you still love me?"
You chuckled against him.
"I fucking love you too much for you to start questioning my love." He couldn't help but let out the biggest grin when you said that.
The oni let go of you, before bringing the gift to your attention. "Since you love me so much, you'll let me take you out on a date and wear this, right?"
As he opened the box, you saw a necklace with a pendant that in a shape of a bull... he knows you too well. Yes, this is the beautiful jade necklace, it is made out of jade, soooo...
You hear a moo at the your feet, making you look down. "Oh, and here comes Ushi." Itto bantered with the idea of him and the bull being competitors for your love.
Ushi presented to you a wilting flower, along with the purest eyes you can see on a bull.
"Ohh, my sweet darling, thank you so much!"
Itto scoffed, "He literally plucked it out of the neighbor's garden, he almost cried when he was being shouted at."
"Ahh, Ushi has faced such a great trial for this flower, I appreciate it even more."
As the two compete for your love just like old times, the hot chocolate on the table goes cold.
...
"Uh, Shinobu..." The boat of the rest of the Arataki Gang docked at Watasumi Island. "What are we doing here again?" Mamoru questioned the green haired girl.
"Apparently, there's a problem about receiving mail in the Sangonomiya Shrine, and that's why Miss Y/N took so long to get back home." Kuki Shinobu clarified. "Miss Yae asked us to take care of it. Think of this as part of the rescue mission you were talking about."
"Yeahh, alright! Let's kick some mail troblemakers butts!" Akira exclaimed.
"Yep, that's exactly what Miss Yae asked for. This is probably the only Shrine Maiden related thing I like, except for Miss Y/N, of course."
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
After a year with no update...
I was done with a lot of things on my plate (thankfully) so I thought, why not pick up an old project :3
Thanks so much for everyone's patience, for waiting for part 2 of this story for such a long time, I appreciate you guys ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
im sobbing as a renjun ult who’s pansexual who’s been in talking stages where in they literally don’t believe the fact that i can be attracted to people other than men IM SCRYINGGG THE LITTLE SHORT TEXTS LIKE THESE ARE SO FUNNY AND SWEET PLSSS CHECK OUT THEIR BLOG GUYS 🫶☹️
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Tired sex with Katsuki where you’re both too exhausted to properly fuck but it’s been too long since you’ve actually been able to be with each other like this.
One arm hooked under your body and breasts as he mouths lazily at your shoulders and neck, the other gripping your hip as he grinds his cock into you, humming appreciatively when you sigh happily.
Neither of you are really looking to rush things or even to cum at this point, and if you both end up falling asleep like this, he certainly won’t complain.
You stared out at the city scape, refusing to look over at the guy in the driving seat who was currently breaking your heart.
“So this is why you’ve been so distant?”, sighing, bakugou leaned his head back against the headrest.
“I’ve been busy, which is exactly why I’m having this conversation with you”, scoffing you finally looked over at him.
“This is a conversation?”, you ask, gesturing between the two of you.
“We’re talking aren’t we?”, you wanted to laugh, even while breaking up with you, he somehow still managed to be snarky.
“Not really Katsuki, you’re telling me what’s going to happen”, you knew that wasn’t exactly fair, he was trying to explain to you why he couldn’t handle a relationship right now. Which somehow made you madder, it wasn’t that he didn’t want you, he just didn’t want you right now.
“Okay well, I guess I’m trying to have a conversation but you're being a child about this”, sitting up more, you shoot him a glare.
“So I’m not allowed to be hurt over this?”, you ask, trying not to raise your voice.
“I didn’t say that I just”, he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. He wished he could tell you how he couldn’t do this because it wasn’t the plan. He was never supposed to fall stupidly in love his first year of being a pro, he was supposed to be working on his career, putting his all into becoming number one, not worrying about you constantly. He just couldn’t do both right now and being a pro had always been his dream and he couldn’t just give it up or half-ass it for you. “I’m sorry, okay I’m sorry. I just can’t do this right now”
Biting down on your lip, you nod, not having any more energy to talk or fight about this. “I just thought I meant more to you than this”, you mumble, avoiding eye contact as a few tears trickled down your cheeks.
Sighing, he reaches his hand out for your face, gently cupping your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “You do, that’s why I can’t do this right now. I can’t half-ass my career and I can’t half-ass this relationship. So one has to go”,
Looking at him you sigh, moving your face away from his and leaning back in your seat. “Okay.”
Opening his mouth, his response dies in his throat, because in all honesty there’s nothing else to say. There are no more excuses he can give you for breaking this off and even if he did it wouldn’t make this hurt any less.
“Can you take me home”, you whisper, closing your eyes, not allowing yourself to start crying.
“Yeah”, backing out, he heads back towards your house, the longest 8 minutes of your life.
Pulling up to your building, he parks, watching you as you get out.
“Please don’t expect me to wait around for when your ready for this”,
“I don’t”, reaching his hand out he grabs yours, his callused hand rough against yours. “I”, before he can finish you pull your hand out of his grasp.
“Good night bakugou”, turning around you walk towards your apartment, trying hard to ignore that he‘s still sitting in his car watching you get inside safely. You hated this, hated that you knew you’d forever be waiting for him to realize he could do it both. Waiting for him to want you again, need you again, and maybe the day that he finally pieced it together, that he could have his career and you that it’ll be too late.
