Positive Vibes Only

Varka was an upstanding citizen of Mondstadt - that meant he could do more than just tolerate alcohol. He tested his limits, each and every time, like a true citizen.

That was until he was met with a fair maiden who sat in front of him, hiccupping every so often after rambling about her adventures across Liyue. He hadn't seen her around Nod Krai before, but now, she was an acquaintance.

A friend.

Oh the joys of alcohol - he's made almost as many friends as he’s had drinks.

But she, oh was she a delight. Varka was certain it was the alcohol that night that had casted a shining glow around her as she spoke, but when he bumps into her in The Flagship late next night, he realises it was more than that.

She was beautiful.

And she knew it.

That was exactly the problem.

"Grand master Varka, hello. I see you’re staying at the Flagship too?"

"Ah, yes. The crew is staying here till we settle some business. I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on" Varka says, a little chipper than usual at the sight of you. You looked quite relaxed today.

"You're not coming in?" you say, coy, you’ve opened your door a little more to give him a peek inside. Usually, it was an obvious sign to let a man in, but Varka didn’t seem to take the hint.

"Oh, no. I mustn't intrude in a ladies quarters…" Varka’s voice is a little more gruff, his eyes return to yours as you scrunch your brows to feign innocence.

"But we are friends, are we not?"

With a simple shake of the head, Varka lays it all clearly, you start to understand what type of man you were dealing with now. He was a fair bit different to the carefree man you shared a drink with last night.

"Friends do not exempt such rules in our knightlihood. Please do understand-"

"If I were a man, would you come in?" you hum softly, it was clear you were toying with the mental rulebook he seemed to follow.

"If you were a man… yes, perhaps" he replies promptly and you fire back in the instant.

"Well then, I'm a man" you state plainly before eyeing him, "care to refute?"

Varka seems all too stunned, but is fairly amused. He finds it a great deal awkward to be turning you down since were particularly charming in his eyes.

"No that’s... er... not necessary" he says awkwardly and you seem to pout, leaning your head against the frame of the door. You looked a picture of innocence, but he knew better.

"Oh but it is, how would you ever know?" you were referring to your identity as a man or woman – it was clear you were a woman, but how could one be so sure?

Surely, sir Varka could take the pleasure of finding out if you truly were a woman in the privacy of your room?

Varka's eyes shine a little and he can’t hide the way his lips curve into a grin right before he chuckles.

You were a dangerous one.

"You're charming, really. But I won’t take any part in this debate, for it may only harm your honor." His laughter is hearty and it finally allows you to fluster - he notices this, perhaps he's embarrassed you, that is the last thing he wanted.

"I mean no disrespect to you"

"Plenty have come in here before... for conversations... nothing else. I promise" you say quietly this time, trying to ignore the way his eyes have grown softer.

"I understand" his voice lowers with yours; he senses you've somehow grown meek all with his blow, "but there is a way a knight must act when they're in the presence of such a fine maiden as yourself"

Your disappointed huff is all it takes for Varka to focus back onto your lips. You don’t notice it since you're far too embarrassed from the rejection - truly, you've never been this brutally turned down by a man before, its taken an incredible hit to your ego.

You're brought back to the present when you feel a softness press onto your knuckles. Your eyes wide, you stare dumbfounded at the man who has his eyes closed and his lips pressed right there.

"I did not mean to upset you"

You grow hot at the words and the way his eyes are staring up at you from below. All too quickly, you find yourself yanking your hand back you your chest, almost as if you were clutching your heart - steadying it from beating so fast.

You've never felt this way, all for a mere kiss - and it wasn’t remotely near anything sensitive.

"I'm not upset" you say, but it’s nowhere near convincing enough.

Varka smiles instead, he was quite smitten at the way you were protecting your ego, "Then you won’t turn me down if I ask you to accompany to the market tomorrow?"

Again, you're lost for words, staring at the man as if you were a fish out of water.

And how could you say no?

The next morning you dress yourself up, you decide for something you usually go for – short, simple, showy. It was your most authentic self, and you really did want to highlight your assets today.

You were on a date with a handsome knight, after all.

The day is pleasant, Varka proves to you just how little he cares about your choice in outfits, by not letting his eyes stray too long on your exposed skin. He compliments you dearly but doesn’t ever so much as touch you more than the necessary – as means of guiding you through the market stalls, or whenever there’s a large crowd tearing you two apart.

You do find yourself tiring a little, cursing your own self for choosing such flimsy footwear. The heels weren’t even that high, but they manage to snap when you’re halfway through your day out.

Varka, being as attentive as ever, noticed right away, and scooped you up into his arms as if your were nothing but a bag of feathers.

When he ushers your to sit down on a nearby bench, he takes off his jacket swiftly and places it atop your lap. You look at the garment, thinking long and hard about its use as Varka lowers to inspect your ankle.

He hums below you, pressing on it softly as you jolt up a bit,

“Apologies, sweetheart” he mumbles and your cheek grow aflame, you don’t think he’s even realised he’s addressed you in such a manner. You’re in your head again till he speaks up,

“I’ll be back in a moment, please stay here”

You nod your head, not bothering to argue. You were still fixed on how he called you so sweetly.

You shake your head. Wait. You’ve heard that plenty. You’ve heard a dozen more pet names from a dozen other men-

You clutch onto the jacket atop your knees and realise the next best thing to leave you dallying around in your mind for another hour. Your dress was too short. He was being mindful.

Your heart flutters again.

Curses.

Varka comes back faster than you’d expect for what he’s carrying in his hands. A pair of sneakers. He’s wearing that cheesy smile of his as he bobs back down to the ground, taking your foot onto his knee and dusting it. His smile grows wider, and his entire face glows with pride as he looks at your foot,

“It’s a perfect fit! I totally guessed it”

“That’s very impressive, sir Varka” you say without thinking and he looks up to you like a doe, blinking once, then twice, before looking back down and chuckling. He tends to your other foot, and you realise the tips of his ears have gone red, you smirk.

“Thank you, you’re quite dependable” you muse with your best honey smooth voice as he stands up in front of you dusting his hands, before placing them on his hips.

He waves at you as if it were no big deal and offers his hand for you to stand up, “How does it feel? Comfortable?”

“Yes. Much more comfortable”

“I’m glad, we can resume if you’d like? Or perhaps you’d like to return back?”

“Let’s continue a little more” you smile, stepping to his side as you clutch onto his arm, your palm wrapping snugly on his large bicep.

Varka’s eyes grow wide as he looks down to you, his words a little hoarse, perhaps he felt the way your chest pressed up on him. You couldn’t help it; you finally had an excuse to touch him – and he had one to let you.

“Are you tired? We can head back if you-”

You shake your head softly against the arm you’ve rested it on, “Only a little, is this uncomfortable?” you say as you look up at him with eyes that make his breath hitch a little.

“No- not at all. I- uh. Let’s resume!”

You make your way to the tavern, smiling as you notice the familiar uniform of the Favonius Knights of Mondstadt. They were a chatty bunch; you could hear their conversations even from afar.

“Sir Varka, I see you’ve been keeping company with a fair lady?”

“We are friends. Close, friends. She’s staying for the duration of the month as we are…”

Friends. You can’t help but feel a little dim at the words spoken by your knight, but you understand them well.

He lived a different life from you – different morals, different standards.

Of course, neither of you spoke of being anything more than friends, but you were sure there was something more than just kindness in his eyes whenever he looked at you.

But you were an impatient woman, you’re relentless with your lovers as you are with the attention they give you. You weren’t a pretty poised lady who would wait years upon years to be courted by a suitor. You weren’t that type at all. You were tired of waiting.

"My restraint, it is an act of respect. Please do not take it in any other way" Varka’s voice is pained, you feel pitiful for the man who stood in front of you under the illumination of the moonlight. The breeze was biting, and he had insisted on you using his jacket to stay warm - but you refused.

You cornered him tonight.

After countless hours of hearing the knights chatter. You wanted to know what he thought of you, but all that came out was an accusation.

“Do you not find me attractive? Is that it?” you almost cringe at the memory, but there’s no turning back time.

You were hurt he hadn't fallen for your charms and taken you to bed that very moment.

No one's ever resisted you, at least not that easily.

The knight was still in front of you. His fingers interlaced with yours, pulling you close, but not too close.

You can tell it with the way his gaze is fixed on you, a sense of longing, yearning for you, you've never seen it on any man that's pursued you before.

Somehow, you believe he's not just speaking just for show - he means every word he says. As if anything that comes out of his lips is an oath he follows with every breath he takes.

"If anything, it makes my love for you real, not selfish"

You want to crumble down into ash. There’s never been a man who has spoken so purely of love to you ever before. And you begin to wonder if you even deserve to hear such poetry come out of his mouth. All directed to you, you didn’t believe you were worthy of something this precious.

"Desire without discipline is animalistic", his breath is but a whisper as he steps closer, growing faster. His eyes that were once determined to stay on yours have fallen astray now, as his face rests atop your shoulder – his whispers make you shudder, "breaking these vows... they would only make me a knight in name"

"Vow..." you mumble softly, "you have vows to your knights, but your vow to me, what is it?"

"My vow to you?" Varka pulls back,

"Yes"

"I fear... it would only drive you further away from me" Varka speaks, you see the tips of his ears redden, even amidst the darkness of the night.

Something tells you that he's had these very vows prepared for some time, but he's been intentionally holding them back.

You know why now.

He doesn’t want to burden you with his vows, or his commitment. Commitment you both know, you’re not prepared for.

A rush of worry trickles down your spine as you think about the situation you’re in. It was your fault for being so insistent on a man who clearly had a code of honor to fulfill.

A code you could not fulfill.

But you still wanted him. And that was cruel. To both you and him.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt bad for being cruel towards a man, but tonight, you feel it.

You feel like a monster, ripping away something precious from Varka. Something he cherishes with all his heart.

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden realisation; you like this man. A little too much.

This was new. And it was terrifying. You needed to put an end to it.

“I should go” you say, your voice cracking painfully as you step to leave, but Varka pulls you back. You bump into his chest, and your lips are caught in his – but it is no accident.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have” you say quickly, shaking your head and taking a step back. But Varka is insistent on holding you back,

“I kissed you, you have nothing to apologise for-”

“I kissed back” you snap, panicked all of a sudden. As if you’ve done something incredibly wrong, as if you’ve ruined all hope for anything between the two of you. But you know it’s the opposite.

You’ve never ever cared for the consequences till now.

“I’m allowed to kiss women” Varka says, eying you carefully, hoping you’d understand him. Yet, even when you look right into his eyes, you don’t reach him.                                             

“But you mustn’t waste it on someone who you know you cannot keep. Isn’t that right?”

The words are bitter on your tongue, and you know they’ve done a lashing onto him when he receives them. He looks heartbroken, but you’ve only spoken your truth.

Commitment wasn’t something you had ever considered in your lifetime.

In the coming weeks, you pluck up your courage to see Varka again. He’s sitting patiently, waiting for you to finish your speech about how the kiss was a dangerous mistake, and that you would like to forget it altogether.

You’ve come to terms with it now – you like this man a great deal. And because you like him so much, you will spare him the inconvenience of your interest.

He deserved someone better than yourself – and that is what you have settled on.

Varka, though pained at the thought of forgetting his kiss, agrees, but not before commenting that he would still like to be friends. Though you are hesitant to dismiss the idea, he doesn’t give you the chance.

You feel faint as he stands up and strides towards you.

The last time you were this close, he had kissed you.

You swallow thickly, feeling him towering above, as his eyes narrow down on your skin – it was an unfamiliar sight to see the knight rake up your bare skin. If you were your usual self, you would relish in the new development.

But you liked him now, you truly cared for the man. You didn’t want to charm him anymore.

You feel the rough pad of his thumb press onto a spot just above your breast,

"I see you've found yourself in a good time" he mumbles lowly, his eyes flickering back to yours as a stinging sensation fills the very spot he presses into. Your cheeks grow hot as you remember the marks that were still freshly engraved into your skin from your most recent rendezvous.

"It wasn't" you say blandly, you didn’t want to lie of course, not in front of a saint like him.

Varka’s eyes hollow, he tilts his head to the side, "What’s his name? I can teach him a lesson."

"It’s not like that" you sigh, before failing to keep the words to yourself, "I just wish it were… someone else, that’s all"

"I see" he clears his throat, a shine returning back into his eyes. When you see a silver of a smile appear on his lips, you know it’s too difficult to be playing this game anymore.

Friends. As if that were ever possible.

“I guess, sometimes, we can’t all have what we want” Varka says, his eyes piercing through yours, at if he was staring right at his own reflection. You feel a pang of hurt at first, but you soon come to realise, he was saying it to himself.

“I guess so” you mumble as you seek your own reflection in his eyes.

Every day since then, you do your best to avoid the knight. If you ever see even a small glimpse of him, you turn the other way. If you so much as hear his name, you’d beeline elsewhere.

But in truth, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

About his god-forsaken smile and that childish laughter that roared whenever he felt even a tiny glimpse of joy.

You hear it again when you’re at the tavern and you feel your body go still.

The area was arranged for a special show tonight, and you had thought to pay a visit.

You didn’t expect the whole of Varka’s crew to be settled in here, but you shouldn’t be too surprised either.

Suddenly, you’re a little thankful that you have dressed a little more modestly – your dress a had a higher neckline than usual, and it wasn’t all too short either. To top it off, you had a modest shawl to cover your curves from any attention – something you would have never ever thought you’d be capable of doing.

Ever since your revelation of liking Varka, you couldn’t help but cover yourself up more. You hated that you did it in hopes of impressing him when you were meant to be avoiding him, but that’s exactly what silly crushes were like. You felt like a teenage girl all over again, trying to impress a silly boy by changing herself into something she's not.

But Varka was no silly boy.

“Ah Y/n, it’s nice to see you again. Are you here for the show?” you hear Varka, he’s sat on one of the chairs furthest away from the stage.

You smile softly, and tug onto your shawl a little tighter, “I was just paying a visit, I didn’t think it would be this crowded. But I must leave, there aren’t any places left to seat myself”

Varka smiles even sweeter, and begins to stand, “You can take my seat, I’ve even warmed it up for you”

“That’s quite okay, Varka. I am fine to stand” you shake your head, trying to be as polite as you could, but the man was stubborn today.

“That’s no good. You’ll tire out your legs”

“Then, what about yours? Your legs are far more important than mine, I could never steal a spot from such a valuable individual like you.” You quickly say as he frowns at you. You want to giggle at the way he frowns; it looked almost like a child who was being denied candy.

“Mmm, you’re not letting go easily, are you?” Varka huffs before seating himself back on the chair. You hear the crowd begin to murmur as a guest appears on stage. All attention was now on the stage, it was the best opportunity for you to leave, but Varka’s eyes are on you like a hawk, drawing you in.

Varka pats onto the flesh of his meaty thighs as he looks at you, his head cocked to the side as he eyes your expression turning flushed. He tries not to smirk, but he can’t help it.

You wave your hands frantically and decline, that is until his fingers wrap oh so delicately around your wrist, tugging on it just the slightest.

“There’s no harm in it”

“But-”

“There’s nowhere else to keep you seated” he shrugs, “and I’d hate for you to miss out on the show”

You truly wonder how Varka manages to speak this way, “Don’t worry, no one’s watching us”

“I’m not worried, but you should be” you remind him, but he simply raises his brows, feigning innocence.

“It’s not wrong to help a maiden in need”

You huff lightly as you step closer, your legs almost shaking and giving away right as you let yourself sit atop of him.

You feel Varka hum as his larger palms wrap gingerly around your waist, pulling you closer against him. You hold your breath and stay as still as possible, but it seems he notices it all too easily.

Varka’s hands rub at the sides of your waist soothingly. You know he’s being sweet, gentlemanly, even, but you’re far more concerned with keeping your emotions in check.

You were on his thigh now, you needed to behave, you needed to not focus on how good it felt to-

“Comfortable?” you feel his breath on the side of your neck, and you stiffen at once, he chuckles.

You feel him tense his muscles for a moment and you want to moan out at the feeling under your core. The mental and physical restraint you were employing to not squeeze your legs against his thigh, it was immeasurable.

“Which do you prefer, hm?” he mumbles, letting his muscles relax once more, before tensing them again. You close your eyes shut and steady your breath – surely, he was playing with you right now.

“How it was... before” you say as calm and as unbothered as you can manage. You hear him sing a small affirmation before relaxing himself again, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“You’ve been avoiding me a lot lately, I though you said we could still be friends?” he starts and you bite onto your bottom lip to remain sane. So he noticed. It explains why he’s acting so out of character right now.

“Is this why you keep me held hostage?” you speak, coy, but Varka chuckles softly behind you, attempting to remain just as unbothered.

“You’re free to leave whenever you please, malady. I would never keep you out of your will”

Unfortunately for Varka, you did take it as your cue to stand up from his lap. Though, you don’t get even a step away from him till his arm swings around your waist. His forearm is strong and hard, firm enough to pull you back onto him with little to no effort.

As you’re settled back on his thigh, you turn to meet his gaze, quirking an eyebrow up, “Well?”

Varka stares at you for a moment, awkward and innocent before clearing his throat, “Uh… answer me before you go” but with the way he pulls you in closer, you know he won’t let you go, not that easily at least.

You turn back around to face the stage and notice his fingers wrap into his own against your stomach, locking you in place, “I was merely being respectful of your boundaries as a knight”

Varka sighs softly, and you can almost envision him shaking his head from side to side, “It’s not your job to be respectful, it’s mine. You’re free to act as you please. As you are, wholly.”

You try not to grow emotional at the words, but you remain stoic, “I’ll keep that in mind from now on”

“And is that…” he trails his fingers from your shoulders, down along your arm to your wrists – you feel your entire body tingle, “why you’re so covered up?”

“Hm?” he prompts you to answer once more, but you feel too embarrassed now. So, he caught on. Now you looked much more desperate than you’ve ever looked – which is an all-time low, since desperation was all you gave off when you first met.

You cringe internally, wishing to disappear entirely.

“It’s too hot for this, is it not?” he mumbles against your skin, “I worry for the conditions you set yourself in”

You don’t bother to refute his words – he’s being rational, and that was the most charming way to go about it. He wasn’t gloating about how you were trying to appear modest around him. He was simply proposing you shed a layer or two to be more suited to the conditions you were in – hot and bothered. In more ways than one.

“May I?” you hear him behind you, and with the fingers that were already settled around your neck, you nod,

“Go ahead”

Swiftly, you feel your shawl pulled away from you, “Better?”

“Thank you”

You feel lighter now, but you’re still hot. You have Varka to blame for that. His strong arms hold you tighter,

“You’re most welcome”

Varka feels more at ease now, seeing you in the clothes he knows you’re most comfortable in.

His eyes settle on the smaller beads of sweat collecting behind your neck, though he’s tempted to wipe at them, he knows it’ll only fluster you more.

He’s a knight, and though Varka takes great pride in his set of values and adherence to the codes of knightlihood, he isn’t always the picture of a saint.

It has taken him far more restraint than usual to calm himself down tonight, especially with your weight on him – the feeling of it was sinful, but the thoughts he battled were far worse.

With the way he feels your heat on him, he’s settled with the knowledge that you feel quite the same. A feeling of excitement, one he should be ashamed of, but he isn’t.

You’ve soaked right through your dress. You’re sure of it.

You haven’t even made it halfway through the show yet.

You close your eyes, wishing to focus on anything else, anything other than the fleshy thigh that belonged to the otherworldly man who you kept fantasising over in each of your sleepless nights.

“Bored of the show already, huh? Should we retreat back to your room?”

You swallow, hard. You heard correctly, did you not? He used the word ‘we’.

We.

“Varka-” before you can say anything more, he moves against you. Gently ushering you off his lap, his fingers already laced at your wrist in case you’d run off.

You immediately move your eyes off of him and away from any part of him. You don’t want to see the mark you’ve left on him, and he certainly doesn’t make any hint to even knowing of the stain – though you knew well, he’s felt every bit of the dampness you left on him.

In a matter of moments, you’re surprised to see Varka step a single foot – let alone his whole body into your room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. Well, I mean-” you begin as he closes the door behind him, finally letting go of your wrist. His eyes are gentle,

“There’s nothing to apologise over, sweetheart. It’s only natural.” The way he so easily says it makes your heart melt into two, “If anything, I should apologise for putting you in such a predicament. I wasn’t exactly behaving as I should have.”

There is a silence, and you start to realise that he wasn’t at all acting himself either. You thought you were in your head this entire time, but the knight had just admitted to you that he was acting out of the ordinary. He was riling you up on purpose.

“No, you weren’t”

“Then, may I take care of the consequences?” he muses, an eyebrow raised that made you bite onto the bottom of your lip to contain yourself from ripping his clothing off entirely, “You’re still wet, aren’t you?”

You look to Varka with wide eyes, you feel yourself shaking at the very words. You would be on the bed that instant with his face between your legs if you were your usual self.

“It would be a disservice to leave you as you are” he starts, he doesn’t move an inch closer, and you’re thankful for that, “a knight is bound by duty, and once he starts something, he must finish it”

“You don’t have to. I can just- I can just do it myself!” your words rush out and you’re left hot at the silence that follows. You close your eyes shut, not wanting to see his face but you can already hear him scoff, and the soft creak of the chair as he sits down.

Never in this lifetime would you ever expect to utter such a pathetic sentence to a man – you seem to surprise yourself with a new low each time you’re faced with Varka. It’s like you become a new woman.

“Go on then” Varka is seated on the small armchair beside your bed, his legs spread, as he cocks his head to the side, eying you.

“Huh?” you scowl, before clarifying, “I meant by myself”

“I know” he shrugs,

“Varka!” you exclaim, covering your mouth at your own response. It wasn’t an absurd request to watch you pleasure yourself, and it wasn’t at all scandalous – in fact, you’ve experienced far more scandal with the men from Fontaine, but that was a story for another day.

“I was just teasing~” he cracks into a smile, chuckling into a fit of laughter with his head leant back. You’re mesmerised with the man in front of you again, and you feel like your throat is clogging up.

“Stop changing up all the time” you mumble softly, “it’s driving me insane”

“I was simply matching your energy” Varka replies, his tone this time, a little more serious.

You feel yourself grow embarrassed, your cheeks hot and your eyes glossy.

You were needy and aroused, but you were your own demise.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?” you look up to see Varka stood in front of you again, his large palm, warm and rough, against your cheek – but it felt all too comfortable. You close your eyes to fall into the feeling – you wanted him, badly.

“I’ll be good, I promise” he whispers, his eyes are on yours, you can tell, You force yourself to look back at him, “That night, I kissed you. I made the commitment to stay beside you, and I will. In every way possible. I’m not hiding away anymore, at least not like before.”

“Are you sure?” you hear yourself crack, but you feel his lips ghost over your own, mending what you kept breaking.

“Positive”

Varka is gentle with his kiss, he isn’t pushy, he isn’t a rough brute like you’d imagine a knight. He treats you as if you’re as fragile as a flower. You don’t think you’ve ever been kissed like this.

“And if I trample on your heart and warm the bed of another man right after this, what will you do?”

Varka chuckles softly, “I’ll win you back. As a knight always does”

“And if you can’t?” you furrow your brows, hoping he’d back down, but he doesn’t.

“I will” he kisses you, “There’s no battle I haven’t won”

Despite your brain telling you to push him away, you can’t help but be swayed. Your heart swells with a newfound happiness you’ve been trying to dampen all this time.

There was no use anymore. You've lost the battle inside your head and he's taken the glory.

“That’s an awfully conceited thing to say” you giggle and Varka’s expression entirely softens at the sight of you - finally smiling for him. With a small sigh, his forehead leans against yours as he nudges his nose onto you.

“What can I say, I am a knight”

chuu's note: varka, I assure you lord barbatos does not care if you rail a woman, he is sooo chill, my guy~

also, can you tell i just finished watching the new season of bridgerton? I swear my writing became like lady whistletown throughout this... but I think it weirdly fits the story and tone haha!!

© kurapikapikachuu | Please do not feed any of my work into AI. Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3 lots of love, chuu!

The office is colder than you had expected.

It's your first week at DSO headquarters, and the humming fluorescent lights were already giving you a headache. You can feel the eyes on you from the other staff members, quietly whispering among themselves about the "new recruit". You were prepared for the stares and the names, so it didn't really phase you. After all, you hadn't clawed up your way though intense training and exams for nothing.

The door to the interview room opens and you're invited in by a woman in a grey suit, instructed to sit and wait. She leaves promptly, and not even five minutes later the door opens again.

Leon S. Kennedy. You had heard the name many times from your superiors, learning from his example, watching him in training footage, hearing about his missions. He isn't anything how you expected him to be.

He isn't the polished, stoic hero you had seen in the footage. Nor is he the handsome, charismatic mystery man that people gushed about. He looked... tired.

And not just "lack of sleep" tired, but the tired that settles into your bones. His hair is a bit shorter now, and you can't help but notice the hint of silver that catches under the office light. The lines near his eyes deepen when he gives the room a once-over, not out of judgement, but recognition. Like he's seen too many faces here before.

When he speaks, his voice is calm and controlled, almost cold. "Congratulations, rookie. You've made it further than most. Let's see if you can make it further still." He puts your file down on the table, stamping it with a red "approved."

And just like that, you're assigned to him.

~

Your first mission feels like more of a test of endurance rather than a learning experience. You're heading to an isolated facility somewhere in the outskirts of Romania. There have been reports of bioweapon activity and possible survivors.

You're seated in the briefing room with Leon, sifting through files and data. You watch him as he looks through the briefing, fingers brushing over a digital map as he traces a route for the two of you through the abandoned villages. You catch the faint scent of coffee and gunpowder when he leans in beside you.

"Remember what you were taught. Keep your weapon low until you know what's out there, but never let your guard down."

You nod, heart pounding harder than you want it to. The nerves start to set in, and you swallow, throat suddenly dry. You knew that what you were going to see when you were on the field isn't normal. Quite the opposite actually. But you still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that such monsters might exist.

You're sure Leon notices your nerves. But if he does, he doesn't comment on it, rising from his seat next to you and patting your shoulder. "You'll be fine, rookie. Just breathe through the nerves. Everyone gets over it eventually."

That night, you're seated in the transport plane, staring out the small window into the dark night. Of course, it was thundering and pouring rain, droplets pattering against the glass. Your gaze drifts when you hear Leon softly humming to himself, polishing his sidearm in the dim light.

He must feel your gaze on him, because he looks up, a brow raised slightly.

"Something on your mind, rookie?"

You freeze, averting your gaze. "No, sir. Just... trying to stay focused."

"Good. Focus will keep you alive." He clips back, signaling the end of the conversation. You don't let your gaze wander again in fear of being spotted, so you shut your eyes, the sound of the heavy rain and the hum of the engines lulling you into a light sleep.

~

The mission goes wrong the moment you hit the ground.

The facility is in worse shape than the reports had explained. The doors are rusted shut, shattered glass in the halls, and the heavy smell of decay clings to the air, making it feel suffocating.

You move in formation behind Leon, every one of your senses straining. Your grip on your pistol is making your knuckles go white, every nerve on edge, and the fact that your flashlight barely illuminated the dark hallway didn't help either. The silence is heavy, too heavy, only being broken by distant drips of what you hope is water and the soft scraping of your boots.

Then comes a sound, a wet drag of something alive.

Leon signals you to hold, and your heart nearly stops. You watch him lower into a crouch and you mirror his position, scanning the corridor ahead. When the creature appears, a twisted, pale, grotesque fusion of flesh and metal? You nearly forget how to breathe.

It doesn't seem to see you, thankfully, but you remain still, praying it doesn't hear anything or turn down the hallway you're both crouched in.

"On the left." Leon orders quietly, eyes remaining fixed on the creature.

You obey before thinking, raising your gun. The first burst of gunfire from Leon's pistol shatters the quiet, your pulse skyrocketing with it. The creature lets out an animalistic roar, and you can't help but flinch. You've never heard something so unnatural in your life.

You take aim and shoot, hitting the creatures side, your shaking hands causing your aim to be off. Leon fires again, finishing off the creature with a few shots to its head. He moves with precision, every shot deliberate and controlled, unlike your nervous spray.

When he confirms the creature is dead, still and unmoving as it lays on the ground, he turns to you. His voice is steady, but there's a flicker in his eyes. Relief? Concern? You can't tell.

"You okay?"

You nod, though your hands tremble around your gun.

"Good." He says, lowering his weapon. "You did well. Remember what I taught you. Don't let adrenaline make decisions for you."

"Okay. I'll remember." You whisper, mentally storing that note away for later. When you catch his gaze to continue moving, you see something else there. Something softer.

But it's gone before you get a good look.

~

Weeks passed, missions blurred together, and before you knew it, you and Leon were going on almost every mission together. The DSO knew that if they wanted a job done, you two were the best pick.

Of course, Leon never got any easier to read. He was patient when it mattered and distant when it didn't. He kept every single wall up around you, as if any sign of vulnerability would compromise every mission.

You kept quiet about it, watching and learning more and more after every mission. You learned quickly how to move silently, how to anticipate threats, and how to keep fear from making you freeze. Leon didn't praise you often, but when he did you knew that you were doing well.

Once, during a debrief, you caught him glancing your way while you spoke. Not critically, but almost thoughtfully. When you finished, he simply said "good work", but it left an unmistakable warmth blooming in your chest.

You kept telling yourself it was just respect. Professional acknowledgement, nothing more. But there were some moments, very rarely, when the air shifted around you.

Like when he corrected your grip on a rifle, his hand steadying yours for just a second longer than necessary. Or when he brushed past you in a narrow hallway, his voice low as he told you to stay close.

He never crossed a line, and deep down you knew he wouldn't. But still, you couldn't help but wonder if he felt it too — the quiet tug between the both of you, a tension that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

The turning point came during a mission in Berlin.

You'd been separated after an explosion tore through the lower levels of an underground lab. Your radio had been damaged, cutting you off from HQ as well as Leon. You stumble through flickering corridors, vision swimming with debris dust.

When a shadow appears beside you, you raise your weapon on instinct, letting out a spray of gunfire. Luckily, none of your shots hit, and a hand catches your shoulder through the dust.

"Easy. It's me." Leon's calm voice cuts through the haze, easing your racing heart, and your shoulders sag with relief. He's breathing hard, face smeared with dust, but his grip on your shoulder is firm. "You're okay. You did good."

You try to answer, but nothing comes out but a cough after inhaling so much dust. He guides you down to a safer hallway, letting you compose yourself while he checks you for injuries. His touch is hesitant, almost like he's scared of what he might find.

"You're bleeding." He points out, spotting the gash on your temple.

"It's nothing." You answer quickly, clearing your throat. Leon laughs at your comment, shaking his head.

"Hey, that's my line."

When you look up, his eyes meet yours. His gaze is tired, yes, but warmer than you had ever seen it. And for just a heartbeat, the walls between you seem to almost fade. The sound of the distant fire, the stench of smoke and burning machinery, it all fell away.

"Leon..." You start, but he blinks, whatever passing between you vanishing as quickly as it came. He clears his throat, taking a step back.

"Let's move. We're not safe here." He says and you nod, following his lead, but the tension between you is thick with everything left unsaid.

~

Things changed after Berlin.

You never brought it up again, but you definitely noticed Leon's slight change when he was around you. He became quieter during missions, but more watchful. You caught him double checking your angles, making sure nothing could touch you, always scanning for any injuries once you were on the transport flight back to HQ.

You also noticed him lingering near you during debriefings, or standing just close enough to make sure his presence was known, but not enough to make anyone look twice.

Once, after a night of cleanup, you caught him outside the safehouse, leaning against the railing and staring at nothing. You contemplated even going out to talk, but your feet pulled you over before you could tell yourself to stop.

"You're out late. Shouldn't you be sleeping by now, old man?" You tease, trying to keep the mood light but internally cringing at yourself.

He gives a small laugh, the corner of his mouth tugging into a half smirk. "I'm not that old. Just wanted to get some fresh air. It helps quiet the mind."

You pause, still leaning against the doorway. "Quiet the mind?" You repeat, not quite understanding. "Like what, some sort of meditation?" You joke, but there's no real bite behind your words.

He doesn't answer really, just laughs a bit before falling silent. You don't push further, staying standing and following his gaze out over the small town you were staying in.

After a moment, he finally speaks, his voice quiet. "You've come a long way, rookie."

You shake your head, laughing softly. "You can drop the 'rookie' now. I've been in the field for long enough."

He glances at you, his lips tugging into a half smirk. "Not sure I can. It kinds of suits you."

You roll your eyes, but the sound of his quiet chuckle makes your heart clench, and you mentally curse at yourself. But he continues, his voice a touch softer.

"You remind me of who I used to be."

You pause, watching him closely as his gaze shifts away from you, and you catch a faint glimpse of regret in his eyes. "... Before what?"

"Before Raccoon City. Before everything changed."

He didn't say more, silence falling over the two of you again. The wind carried the faint scent of rain, and you pull your jacket tighter around you, taking once last glance at Leon before heading inside.

You had wanted to ask what he meant, but his expression said he wasn't ready. So you didn't.

~

The final mission came without warning.

An emergency call, a late night briefing, and deployment within the hour. Of course it was Eastern Europe again; you joked to yourself that you should start a sticker book for every European city you go to.

The mission wasn't anything complex, just a suspected resurgence of BOW trafficking. You had been through much worse, stuff straight from nightmares, but something about the way Leon looked that night unsettled you. He seemed distant, more distant than usual, and surprisingly withdrawn. His words were all protocol, but his eyes lingered on you more than once, as if he was memorizing details.

When you landed, the mission fell apart faster than expected. The intel you had received was wrong and the ambush came hard and fast, nearly separating you and Leon in a storm of bullets and roars.

You follow Leon through the ruins of an old church, boots ponding against the loose concrete, heart pounding in your ears.

"Go left!" He shouts, covering your flank. You turn - too slow. A creature resembling what used to be a human lunges at you, claws digging into your flesh. Pain flashes up your arm, causing you to see stars, and making you stumble. Before you could react, Leon was there, dragging you back, his weapon roaring until the thing fell.

"Dammit, you okay?"

You nod through the pain, your hands trembling as blood soaked through your shirt, dripping from your fingers and staining the stone crimson. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." You say through gritted teeth.

Leon grips your shoulders, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Don't say that. You're not fine." For the first time, his voice cracked. Not with anger - with fear. You had never seen him look like this ever, not towards anyone.

"Leon-" You begin, but he shakes his head, already fishing out a wad of bandage from one of his pouches, tying it around your arm to stop the bleeding.

"Stop. Don't talk to me with that voice." He bites out, his hands moving fast. "Don't let me watch another rookie - another partner go down."

You freeze at his words. This isn't just about you. It was about the ghosts of his past, ones that still haunted him.

"I'm not going anywhere." You say quietly, though your head spins and sweat beads on your forehead as your body fights to stay conscious. Leon shoves some pills in your hand for you to take to ease the pain, and he lets out a slow breath, hands dropping to his sides.

"Stay here. I'll be back."

You nod, slumping against a fallen wall of concrete, waiting and listening as Leon finished combing through the rest of the village, eliminating the remaining threats.

When he returns, the village is silent except for the faint fires crackling in the distance, or the sound of crows coming to pick at the remains of the infected villagers. Your injury throbs in time with your pulse - the pills Leon had given you had helped you remain conscious and stop the bleeding for now, but you still winced in pain with every breath, your arm hanging limply at your side.

Leon is kneeling in front of you, changing out your soaked bandage with another one he found while rummaging through the abandoned houses. His movements are quick and controlled, but you can still see the slight shake of his hands.

"Hold still." He says, voice tight.

"I am holding still." You quip back, managing a faint smile. "You're the one shaking."

He shoots you a look, the kind that usually meant 'not now', but this time there's no sharpness behind it, only fear.

"This shouldn't have happened," he mutters, "You were behind me, I should've-"

You cut him off. "It wasn't your fault."

"Doesn't matter." He presses harder on the wound, and you hiss in pain. His jaw clenches, and he curses under his breath. "You're losing too much blood."

You can tell he's in survival mode, running on pure instinct. The quiet, deadly focus that comes with years of seeing too many people go down. But under it, you could almost see something else, something raw and unguarded behind the walls he puts up.

"Leon..."

He doesn't say anything, tearing off another piece of bandage and wrapping it around your arm, just for it to soak through almost instantly. You reach for his wrist, catching it and making him freeze.

"Hey, look at me."

He pauses for a second, almost as if he's debating whether to listen, before looking up at you. You see it instantly, the way his mask had slipped, even just a little. You saw everything he didn't say - the exhaustion, the guilt, the fear of losing one more person he'd sworn to protect.

"I'm not dying here." You say, your voice steady despite the searing pain in your arm. "You taught me better than that."

Something flickered in his expression, a mix of disbelief at your words and hope. He huffs out a quiet breath that could have been a laugh, or maybe just the sound of him slightly relaxing for the first time in hours.

"I should've stayed closer to you." He says, quieter now. "It could've been worse, you could have-"

"Died?" You finish, smiling faintly. "You'd miss me."

He lets out a breath that sounds like a curse. "Don't joke about that."

You tilt your head, studying him. The furrow of his brow, the streak of dirt along his cheek, the exhaustion set into his features like it had always been there, though you knew there was once a time where he was a bright rookie, just like you. You wanted to tell him that he could relax, that he didn't always have to carry the world on his shoulders.

Instead, your voice is quiet when you speak.

"I'm not joking."

The silence that follows is almost unbearable. The wind shifts, carrying the faint scent of gunpowder and rain. You can hear the distant whir of an approaching helicopter - extraction, maybe. But neither of you move.

He should’ve gotten up. Called it in. Kept things professional.

He didn’t.

Instead, Leon stays kneeling there, his hand still pressing against your arm, his other resting on the dirt beside you. His eyes search yours like he's trying to find an answer he doesn't want to admit he needs.

You feel it before it happens - the pull. That fragile, impossible tension that had been building since the day you went on your first mission together. You knew he felt it too by the way his breath catches and the way his shoulders tense like he's fighting something.

"Leon…"

"Don't," he says softly. "You don't - you don't know what you're asking."

"I'm not asking for anything."

He lets out a shaky breath. "You're twenty years old, kid. I'm-"

"Fifty-one." You say, almost teasing, though your voice trembles. "I can do math."

That almost makes him smile. Almost.

Then his hand lifts, slow and uncertain, brushing the dirt-streaked hair from your face. His fingers linger against your cheek, rough and warm, and you find yourself leaning into the touch before you can stop yourself.

He shouldn't. You know that. He knows that. But the look in his eyes says that logic doesn't matter anymore.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper. "You scare the hell out of me, you know that?"

You blink through the haze of pain. "Because I got hurt?"

He shakes his head, jaw tight. "Because I care."

The words hang there between you, fragile as glass. You don't move, and neither does he, as if the slightest disruption could break the moment.

And then - slowly, like gravity itself had made the choice - he leans in.

The kiss is hesitant, broken at the edges. His lips brush yours like a question he's afraid to ask, like he wants to stop but can't bring himself to pull away. You can taste the salt of sweat, the faint metallic tang of blood, and the quiet ache of everything that had gone unsaid.

When he pulls back, he doesn't move far. His forehead rests against yours, his breath uneven.

"This shouldn’t have happened," he whispers. “"You’re my trainee. My responsibility."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your ears. "Then why did you do it?"

He closes his eyes. "Because I can’t lose you."

Your heart twists from pain, from fear, and from something dangerously close to hope.

"You won't."

He pulls back just enough to look at you again. Whatever walls he had left were gone now, stripped bare by exhaustion and something deeper. His eyes search yours, gaze desperate and longing.

Then the radio crackles, interrupting the moment and bringing you both back to reality.

"Chopper inbound," a voice reports. "Two minutes to evac."

Leon's gaze doesn't waver, but you see the shift, the moment the soldier in him reassembles the pieces. He exhales slowly, stepping back just enough to break contact.

"Save your strength," he says, voice dangerously soft. "We’re getting you home."

You want to say something, anything, but your body is too tired, your vision too blurry from all the blood loss. The only thing you can hold onto is the ghost of his lips against yours and the promise in his voice. As he lifts you carefully into his arms, your head rests against his shoulder, and you can feel his racing heart under you.

The helicopter’s blades begin to roar overhead, wind whipping through the air and scattering ash and smoke around you. You feel his grip tighten, protective and desperate as he carries you towards the chopper.

In that fleeting moment, as he loads you into the back, watching as the medic on standby tends to your wound, you couldn’t help wondering which would break first: his duty… or his heart.