REI / AKI / HARU ! eighteen. he/they. entp. filipino. #1 leon kennedy and sae itoshi glazer.
NOW PLAYING! ♫ — SACRED LIGHT by bl8m
MORE INFO ♡ currently studying agriculture and economics. anything with biscoff, cheesecake, cookies n cream, and caramel. coffee and ice cream addict. jpop, anime, manga, kpop, kdrama, manhwa. i love anything black. music by ado, king gnu, yoasobi, LiSA, eve, natori, vaundy, alien stage, ariana grande, sabrina carpenter, muse, seventeen. my other faves are akaza, luka, diego brando, blade, anaxa, scaramouche, xiao, flins, kinich, invisigal.
Summary: Leon and you have been friends for years until you move in together and some things start to change.
The first thing Leon thought about when moving to Raccoon City and taking his new job as a police officer was, inevitably, you.
His best friend, the girl he'd loved since kindergarten when the other kids used to make fun of him because he preferred playing dolls with you, the girl who grew up into a beautiful woman, no, the most beautiful woman, the girl who always turned his world upside down just by existing in it.
God, he loved you.
Painfully so.
Everyone seemed to know that by now, except for you.
Cliché? Yeah, a curse Leon hadn't managed to break yet.
You were clueless about it, even when it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was the sweetest man you'd ever met, always spoiling you with flowers and letters, and don't even get me started on all those little details he somehow always remembered. Not to mention he was always by your side, hugging you like a lifeline, reaching for your hand every chance he got, and even kissing your cheeks or forehead every now and then.
But in your mind, that was because he was Leon.
Your Leon, your best friend, and now, your roommate.
Because what perfect timing from the universe that you got offered a job in Raccoon City right around the time he graduated. It was a divine sign for him, all the stars in the sky aligning to give him the perfect excuse to live with you. By now, he had pictured living with you a hundred times. You two would be happily married, all laughs and kisses and hugs and kisses and more kisses. Maybe two or three children would come along with all those kisses, who knows?
Yeah, well, this was not exactly as imagined, you were not married, and you definitely hadn't kissed...
Yet... Hopefully.
And then there was one extra problem for him to add to the list.
He never knew how freaking hard it would be to live with you.
You were not a bad roommate. You paid your share on time, you made food for both of you, the apartment was magically always clean and smelled good. You were perfect, and that was the damn problem.
Walking around wearing your pajamas, didn't you know he was still a man? That was tempting his natural instincts. Oh, and also your hoodies, your sweatpants, your jeans, your shirts, oh, don't forget the shorts, and Leon's clothes, and... yeah, you get the point.
Everything you did felt different now, at least for him. Watching you do mundane chores had his heart hammering against his chest like crazy because it felt so domestic, and you looked so gorgeous when you cooked and mopped and swept and fuck, Leon was losing his mind.
The best part, for him of course, was when everyone thought you were a couple, when someone confused you for newlyweds, like the time your neighbor, an old lady who lived upstairs, called you the most adorable young couple she had ever met. You had barely opened your mouth to deny it when Leon just smiled like a lovestruck puppy and simply said, "Thanks," with the proudest tone on Earth.
That should have given you a clue about his feelings.
It did not.
Even when that was not an isolated incident. It happened every time someone got confused or assumed the two of you were together. You thought maybe it was because Leon probably didn't want to bother with explanations.
He agreed because he did think you were the most adorable young couple.
Or at least you could be.
Your apartment was always adorned with bouquets, and he called them "friendship flowers" every time you asked what the special occasion was.
What everyone saw was a man so in love he was willing to spend half his rookie salary on you without a second thought.
What you saw was just Leon being as sweet as always.
Your doubts arrived the first time you saw him jealous.
Leon was not the type to get mad at anyone. If he ever did, it would probably last less than an hour. But then he saw you arrive home with a box of chocolates from work.
A heart-shaped box of chocolates.
"Huh," he murmured, trying to hide how jealousy was twisting his guts. "Chocolates?"
"Yeah," you answered casually. "Some guy from work brought me these. Very kind of him."
"You hate chocolate," he said, rolling his eyes.
How could someone not know that interesting little fact about you? He had memorized it back in kindergarten.
"Yeah, but it seemed rude to tell him that," you said, leaving the box on the counter.
Leon reached for it and opened it, looking at the chocolates inside like they had personally betrayed him.
"They look awful. You should throw them away. They might be poisoned."
Very subtle, Leon.
"Huh, really?" you asked, getting closer to inspect them. They looked perfectly fine to you. "I was planning to give them to you."
Fuck.
How could he be so jealous and still manage to blush like a teenager just because of that?
"I don't want them," he hurried to say, crossing his arms over the counter and looking literally anywhere except at you. He could feel even his ears burning right now. "Some jerk gave you those. Freak doesn't even know you don't like them."
He seemed to think for a moment, the idea alone making his blood boil.
"You know what? Maybe I should eat them. That would teach him a lesson."
"A lesson?" you asked, completely confused. "For what?"
"For giving my girl damn chocolates. I bet he doesn't even know your favorite flower. That's why he got you a generic box of chocolates. And it's pink. You don't even like pink."
Now he was just rambling.
But you were still stuck on the my girl part.
"Yeah, he should've brought you flowers. Those make you smile, not these stupid chocolates."
"Leon?" you called softly, finally starting to put the pieces together.
"I was going to throw them away, but I think I'll eat them just to piss him off. You'll go tomorrow and when he asks if you liked them, you need to tell him I ate them. Me. Leon. Your boyfriend. Your Leon."
"Boyfriend?"
Oh fuck.
"Um, yeah, like... guy best friend?"
There was no way out of this.
This was the end.
He was ready to abort the mission, maybe fake a fainting spell, maybe have a real one. His face was burning, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to disappear, begging for the world to swallow him whole. Everything was spinning around him. You were going to be mad. You were going to leave. You were never going to look at him the same way again.
And then you were kissing him.
Wait, you were kissing him.
Fucking hell, you were kissing him.
It took a solid minute for him to understand what was happening before his hands found your waist like his body had been begging him to do that for years.
And then he kissed you back.
You felt warm and real and somehow even better than every impossible fantasy he had built in his head over the years. The kiss was everything he had spent so long dreaming about and somehow it still managed to exceed every expectation.
His brain completely short-circuited.
That day, his dreams came true.
Not the married part, not the kids...
Yet.
The kissing part, a lot of it.
And after that? He did eat those fucking chocolates, and the worst part was that they tasted damn good.
scaramouche x serial killer fem!reader — wc: 1.1k words.
synopsis: the balladeer's life's work may as well just be dirtied, because he's a fool that will adore you.
warnings: deaths mentioned (very minor ones). scaramouche being himself. published pre-snezhnaya patch. events are after the inazuma archon quests but before the sumeru archon quests.
a/n: YES this fic is heavily based on the song “jane!” by the long faces. i plan to make a few several parts of this but it all depends since i'm only testing on writing this type of fic (and also because tbh this fic alone lacks interaction between the reader and scara). also please lmk the artist of the scara fanart banner so i can properly credit them 🥹 and lmk if u guys are interested in more chaps .. anywayss enjoy reading !
“another one dead?”
“honeysuckles again.”
the harsh winter season of snezhnaya this month kept everyone moving within the center of the city. however, scaramouche halts as he notices a busy crowd forming by the entrance of a random alleyway. his two subordinates behind follow his movements—or lack of it thereof—suit as soon as he stopped, fearing another harsh scolding or a death glare so scrutinizing they’d rather lay dead on the spot.
another murder incident, he supposes. killing isn’t an odd activity in a harbinger’s life, but with the frequent crime scenes occurring within the nation of the archon he serves, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt pretending to care for once.
“what’s the commotion?” he asks the cicin mage behind him.
“i-i think it’s the rumored serial killer, my lord,” the mage stammers, bowing slightly as if her hood wasn’t enough to block the view of the intimidating harbinger. “there hasn’t been any sighting of them—”
“i don’t care what you think,” scaramouche interrupts with a scoff. “i need certain answers. get out of my sight and tell me everything there’s to know about.”
“yes, my lord,” the cicin mage bows, immediately disappearing with a flick of electro; anything to be away from her boss.
turning away, the harbinger continues his stroll to his destination: a bar in snezhnaya, where even harbingers that are feared can communicate and negotiate within.
the once loud bar filled with patrons and warmly-lit ambience suddenly tones down with its chaos as soon as he makes his entrance. drunkards are nudged by their companions, the bartender wiped glasses more rigorously as he focuses on the task, off-duty fatui soldiers either look away or bow in respect—scaramouche never bothers remembering their faces either way.
“my, my,” a man in black at his table lifted his cup. the sixth harbinger is now at the second floor, belittling every human below as he stared down at them with his usual condescending expression. “you sure can make a room quiet.”
“i’m not here for pleasantries, pantalone,” scaramouche sits in front of him. “what was the order?”
“right,” pantalone puts down his cup. the upper floor of the bar is designed for more peaceful conversations. it almost seems like the whole floor was a vip section where no one other than the harbingers and their partners themselves bother to go up to. “i’m surprised you even made the effort to come back after the inazuma incident. your next mission is surely closer to inazuma that snezhnaya, no?”
“it was the orders of her majesty. if i had a say in it, i’d rather spare myself the trouble of getting in and out of snezhnaya within a week,” the balladeer sneers. “just cut to the chase.”
the ninth harbinger simply smiled at his colleague’s impatience. “her majesty has ordered a halt to all agendas for now. the serial murder incidents within snezhnaya have gone too far.”
the mention of the serial crime is enough for scaramouche to momentarily froze. before pantalone could even actually notice, he’s once again laid back on the plush seating of the couch. “hah. so it’s about that dead person today?”
“so you’ve seen it,” pantalone confirms in his own words. “however, it’s the tenth for the week.”
“...and it’s only tuesday.”
“correct,” the regrator nods. “and this little killer has started targeting fatui soldiers. three oprichnik officers were found dead in the outskirts of our strongholds within the nation.”
this gains scaramouche’s actual interest. “oprichniks are frontline soldiers. it’s not rare for them to be reduced in numbers.”
“of course, we found evidence it was them. honeysuckle flowers.”
honeysuckle flowers.
his porcelain-like finger tapped on the oak table once. “where is her majesty going with this?”
“this murderer has officially declared war the moment they started murdering our soldiers,” pantalone repeats the statement made at the palace meeting. “usually, this was left to the local authorities, but they still have no progress after everything, and being able to kill the fatui soldiers only tells this killer is not any measly criminal. we’re tasked to catch this killer within a month.”
the balladeer’s hat tipped downwards as he scoffs. “and her majesty expects us to stop every operation for this weakling?”
“we’ve raised that to her majesty,” the raven-haired harbinger mentions. “however, we do understand her concern for the people of her nation. it will also affect the overall economy of snezhnaya. tourism, merchant trading, and we get political mockery. the fatui will look weak to the people if they can’t handle a single murderer. the only thing that will benefit from all this is the black market from private security and weaponry transactions.”
”won’t the devil guide your hand?”
scaramouche’s eyes narrowed as he locked in on the consequences of this whole ordeal.
”for good luck? to hold the honeysuckle rose as she lies down?”
as if a ghost of a hand tilts his hat sidewards, he looks at the stage across their seats, directly seen below from where they’re sitting with the inner balcony being the only obstacle.
”reading the paper, reading the world right around her eyes.”
as if holding something vulnerable, a woman stood in the middle of stage with her hands afloat from gesticulation, her gaze enticing enough for the men below the harbingers to quiet down and swoon. the fabric of her sleeveless dress is velvet and the color of a rose, partnered with short gloves and a fascinator hat of the same shade of red. her hair is a stunning color that accentuated her face, shaped into vintage curls.
“as her majesty states, the task is the same for every harbinger, except—”
“who is that?”
pantalone’s eyes opens at the interruption of his colleague, who seems to be staring at the singer of the bar with what the regrator can fully recognize from someone who formerly wore his heart on his sleeve.
intrigue.
and it’s a dangerous thing for someone who held emotion like a fragile thing you can entrust to another so simply. regardless, the regrator entertains it with a knowing smile.
“she’s very well-known among the patrons, including us within the fatui,” pantalone answers.”i’m not surprised you don’t know her. columbina also doesn’t. the difference is that you avoid this place like the plague, while columbina avoids the outside.”
”and jane, you’re early.”
the balladeer remained silent.
”your life’s work is dirtied by the fools who adore you.”
the haunting lyrics of the song that were spoken by her mouth in red lipstick somehow feels soothing to the hollowness within the balladeer’s chest.
”only to find, only to find you out.”
and the woman looks up on cue.
as if she’s been feeling his gaze.
as if she locks in on her target.
with a soft, practiced smile, she raises her hand like an offering of salvation.
and unknowingly for the balledeer, he has taken up the offer for the fourth time.
desc | you're a computer nerd, like, a HUGE computer nerd. although you weren't world famous, you did have a pretty decent social media following from your pc and keyboard commissions. safe to say, it came as a huge surprise when a guy with 10.5M followers on Twitch dm'd you asking for a custom keyboard build. little did you know, you'd get yourself entangled in more than just assembling parts and managing cables..
genres | social media au, university au, strangers to lovers, crackfic
cw | swearing, angst, fluff, & more to come as i write!
status | ongoing
profiles | dan heng & friends planarcadiuzz
a/n : parts w ( ✦ ) are either written or partially written
hello. did you explode when hoyo showed us blade chilling in a hot spring on today's livestream? me too. so here you go. i made this in like 4 hours. please don't kill me if you find any bugs. thanks and have fun.
[+edit] there are 3 'endings' you could get. this is all dialogue, no narration. i am also very rusty when it comes to writing blade so forgive me if he's ooc!
itch.io game download page
(mac, linux, windows) →
synopsis: jealous yearner diego but he tries to not make it obvious until he breaks.
warnings: a hint of angst if you squint. british cursing once. diego character manga spoilers. this is my first finished work after like 2-3 years be gentle w me
when diego brando keeps something around him, he considers it efficient and convenient. whether it’s a political connection, a trinket being sold in random markets, even his rations for a certain duration during his races are always optimally calculated—practical yet effective.
that’s how diego convinced himself whenever you appeared in either his mind or line of sight. he never cared for how your gaze lingered on his silhouette for a second too long when he bid farewell, when your smiles directed at him felt like it never belonged to anyone but him.
when he feels a bit more vulnerable—a less than rare occurrence for the british jockey at nighttime, dare i say—he says it’s because you stayed that he simply reciprocates the intent. because you’ve known each other since he was nothing but a discarded child after his mother’s death; a pitiful nobody that the harshness of the world turned a blind eye to. uttered repeatedly in his mind that it’s merely an obligation of sorts, that he feels indebted that you didn't belong to the said harsh world.
though he’s also aware that he’s free from any kind of debt towards you. in addition to the rise of his standing in the world of horseracing, his youthly attractive visage makes the ladies feel like they’ll strike a work of art. countless noblewomen ranging from old widows to naively innocent maidens started chasing him for marriage and more fame. thus, he had the funds to provide you a decently stable life. always hiding envelopes with a stack of bills hidden under your large saucer on the small, round dining table whenever he visits your humble home for his favorite blend of tea; he claims it’s because no one was ever to successfully replicate his tea blending preferences.
he never noticed why it bothered him, or perhaps he just shoved that fact away to prevent himself from discovering the truest depths of his decisions that involved you.
“diego?” he didn’t flinch, but cursed himself internally for letting you witness how he zoned out over you. you’ll never know, but he still somehow felt exposed.
your hand reached out, for whatever reason, and felt magnetized towards it with his own.
“your canteen?”
he reached out with his left one that held the said object.
looking away, he cleared his throat to gain even a little composure, not that you recognize his mental crisis. “why are you here?”
“i’ve been here since your first loop,” you refilled his tiny jug. “i’m guessing you’ll proceed until before dusk?”
“why do you presume like you know everything i do?” he griped plainly, tugging at the collar of his usual turquoise turtleneck as if to let out the heat that clung onto his body; he wasn’t certain if the heat was from the blazing sunlight or your response.
you looked up at him from silver bullet’s horseback and smiled. “do i not?” you offered his round canteen. “i’ve always been here in this field during your equitations.”
he scoffed like the prideful man he is, refusing to acknowledge a fact. “no one told you to accompany me.”
“you never complained.”
“you’re convenient,” diego halted, his one hand on silver bullet’s reins ready to take off once again. “unsolicited, but convenient.”
you merely smiled at his baseless harsh description. you always do. not because you’d take every insult as if it wouldn’t scar, but because you’ve been with him long enough to know he wouldn’t even dare think of harming you.
“do you have plans after?” feigning curiosity, you tilted your head. you always knew his answer.
“no,” diego immediately answered, yet you know what’s about to follow. “but i have no plans of doing such trivial matters today as well.”
it was always a quick shutdown from him whenever you ask that question. you simply nodded. same time, same situation, same answer, same conclusion. you knew that there’s no bite to it, anyway. you always know there never was.
“i see,” you replied. “no problem.”
but for once, diego faltered. a shift of his gaze to his slight left, then you again. “is something perhaps bothering you?”
you blinked, a little bewildered at his sudden query. “no?”
“you need assistance with anything?”
it finally elicited a small chuckle from you. “not at all. i just wanted to ask if you’d like to eat with me for dinner.”
he raised a brow. “an initiative?”
“a courtesy.”
“courtesies are way past us at this point now, don’t you think so?” he exhaled huffily. “fine. i suppose indulging you in your wishes for once would be harmless.”
but once became occasionally, then sometimes, then regularly. diego started taking initiative in his own detached, restrained way whenever you wouldn’t ask after you refill his water at the same field. he wasn’t aware that whenever you won’t ask, it means your night was already meant for a scheduled occupation. you never dared to refuse him the first time he asked, though. you knew it took him a lot of mental courage and internal back-and-forth to even ask that, considering his avoidant gaze partnered along with muttered lines of “my presence” and “insufferable and boring”.
what diego never realized is that there’s one more characteristic to those he keeps around: consistent. it was thursday again when got into the horse tracks with his horse companion. he’d normally tend to silver bullet, then you’d arrive on time just before he takes off galloping with his horse on the field.
he turned to his side, expecting you to be there, but all his sight took was your absence of a supposedly present lady, accompanied with an unusual presence of a paper under a water bucket to prevent it from being one with the wind.
‘i will not be arriving until after lunch. i will be bringing a peace offering instead to make up for my absence.’
diego stared hard at the note, pinching the thin piece of paper between his thumb and mid-section of index finger like it’ll crack, then discards it, eyes lingering before it focused back on silver bullet while being void of emotion. it didn’t matter, he can refill his canteen himself, comb silver bullet’s mane after doing a great job of keeping up with him, readjust his reins—
“someone certainly looks like a soaked puppy on a stormy day.”
and for the first time with you as the witness, diego flinched at the sound of your voice. his eyes narrowed in scrutiny and hidden relief. “...you.”
“i said i would be back at noon, not after ten months,” you mused. “you’ve been this grumpy all morning? i hope silver didn’t have to personally deal with the aftermath.”
“who said i was grumpy?”
you finally smiled. diego breathed. “me.”
“hmph. presumptuous.”
“i just observed.”
he snorted. “what business did you have to neglect my horse?"
his question had you tilting your head in amusement. it’s as if his horse’s liking for praises became your partial responsibility, but you didn’t take offense. “you mean ‘neglect you’.”
“i have no need for such care,” he glanced at her blankly. “nevermind. you had no duty to be present every time.”
“don’t sulk. someone required my attention.”
his gloved hands stopped combing silver bullet’s mane for a short moment; however, it was long enough for you to notice. “your neighbor asking for help again?”
“...a merchant,” you answered with a bite of your lip, hesitance echoing through your lackluster posture. “asking for my hand. it was too sudden, so i tried rejecting his humble advances, but he was persistent—”
“and you felt the urge to explain so suddenly?” he barely glanced at you, yet his voice’s modulation said it all. you never expected him to be curious about you, but never did you expect him as well to express such disinterest to the point of dismissive yet grating rejection.
“diego,” your tone took a dispirited turn, volume low as if to tread lightly. “are you upset?”
“i’m uninterested,” he finally turned to you with a passing cold glare above his shoulder. “don’t invite me for anything tonight; i’m not interested in doing any pleasantries to faff about with you.”
“what is wrong with you?” you glared back, but fiercer. “is it necessary for you to be a ruthless jerk every time?”
“‘jerk’? ‘ruthless’?” he scoffed. “you speak as if we just met. and i spoke nothing but my true feelings.”
“feelings?” your face twisted into one of mocking. “you speak of feelings as if you ever showed any.”
before you know it, his words became aboundingly cruel in his own way through detachment; something that’d hurt only to you. “and you speak like you know me. did years of being acquainted with you gain you this much arrogance?”
that silenced you. but the silence was sharp, grinding—enough to express what you both won’t dare to vocalize.
“you’re infuriating,” you hissed in a gravelly voice. “i can’t believe this—” a scoff followed with a short howl of laughter. “did i not mean anything more than an ‘acquaintance’ to you all these years, you bastard!?”
the blonde jockey refused to speak more. to him, he thought he already did more than enough to regret the damage that would set you off and potentially cut you off from his life as well. but to you, it was a nonverbal admittance.
with a quick and loud exhale, you stormed off from the area. your heavy steps carrying the weight of the argument and the burden of emotions that diego refused to share with you.
however, he remained unmoving beside his horse. despite silver bullet’s company—whom has been his companion ever since—the absence of one more presence that he’s always been looking forward to made him feel empty and lonely.
-
alas, no prideful man would still be immune to his innermost battles at the end of the day. every man needs that push to snap, voluntarily or not.
and for the great jockey, it was seeing a man—who’s not him—making you laugh. and it was also right right after your argument, where diego absent-mindedly lingered around the town’s side where you live in with his horse in tow at dusk.
not that he’s such a joker and flatterer to you himself. he has made several women laugh for the sake of having them fall into his trap. he didn’t need to do that with you; he’s more than just a flirt when it’s you.
he observed the man’s mannerisms with composure, yet his thoughts flowed like a chaotic mess where dinosaurs were trampling all over the forest.
the man’s gestures alone says a lot about his standing. stiff yet elegant posture, slightly lidded eyes and up-tilted chin that makes him look down at wherever he looks at, fingers moving gracefully whenever his hands move—he’s not just your normal merchant. it makes diego look at him with scrutiny from caution. why would an elite nobleman want to mingle with a simple maiden living in the rural sides? was he simply captivated by your beauty and charms? diego couldn’t blame the merchant if that’s the case. however, what if ulterior motives are secretly involved? how did you even meet this man?
however, it isn’t the man’s wealth that made him feel threatened. he has the wealth to support your living for a lifetime, after all. but the gentleman was undeniably attractive, charismatic, and… a gentleman. diego could be a gentleman whenever he tries, but you know who and how he is already.
“so,” the man hummed, its vibrations sending diego’s jumbled mind into alarm after his next words. “what do you say… we have dinner tonight?”
and it jolted his upper body, flinching too hard it earned him a little whine from silver bullet.
“i have scouted the nearby city for any diner that would hopefully align to your preferences, and there—”
“i apologize, gentleman, but this fair lady has a scheduled rendezvous with me tonight,” diego hoisted himself down from the saddle of his arabian-thoroughbred, dusting off his gloved hands with each other while sauntering with his chin held high towards the duo. “i’m afraid she will not be able to keep you company for the rest of the day.”
brows furrowed, the nobleman snorted in disbelief after recognition. “diego brando? this lady—are you telling me you’re entertaining me while having an affair with this widow!?”
your jaw dropped, ready to retaliate. “that’s not—”
“mind your words when talking about her,” that earned the businessman a glare from the jockey, silent but enough to warn him thoroughly. “she is not obligated to settle with one man when there’s no commitment. after all, she’s an exceptional, respectable woman who makes even the bastards chase her around with her beauty and nobility. secondly, i believe ‘having an affair’ is no longer a valid argument against a widow. i suggest you choose your words correctly before flaunting around mindlessly.”
the man, unable to find a counter-argument, could only scoff and leave the two with grumbles and heavy stomps, as if breaking character.
your head turn was sharp like your glare as you looked at the blonde. “diego, what in the hell was that?”
“i saved you,” i feigned a proud huff, inwardly panicking. “i could tell that bloke was an annoying, narcissistic one. better to keep you out from them.”
“what?” you sneered. “do you know what you’re saying!? the man was nice—”
“exactly,” his eyes narrowed. “he was nice. too nice for a high-caliber merchant to hang around towns destitute of excessive wealth. never even thought about how dodgy it is?”
“not everyone is like you, diego,” you hissed but a little softer. “not everyone would be nice for the sake of end-term benefits—”
“you don’t benefit me.”
his words stung, but confusion won over your mind. “excuse me?”
“you don’t benefit me. not anymore. but i stayed,” he continued. “i don’t have any favors to owe you now. definitely not as nice as that bastard, but i was always there.”
you squinted. “what are you getting at?”
“do you need me to be nice to you? is that what would take you to not look at any man other than me?”
“i don’t need you to change, diego! that’s not the point!”
“bloody hell, woman!” he snapped. “how are you so dense to not see how much i pine for you!?”
a stunned silence fell over.
“i don’t do confessions,” he said. “but i’m not also a coward. they’re too flashy, pretentious—i only did that once to charm the old woman i intended to marry for convenience. you’re not on her level. i treasure you. not for wealth, but because it’s you who never judged me at my worst.
“so if you will,” one step closer. “don’t just look at me, see me.”
you finally let out the breath you’ve subconsciously held. “diego, i always do. you don’t need to ask.”
“then what was that?”
“he was nothing but a gentleman,” you shook your head before chuckling. “you fool. i was always yours, whether you knew it or not. i just never wanted to potentially ruin what we have.”
it was his breath’s turn to halt. “...you’re naive.”
“stop it with the insults now.”
“but you are,” he insisted smoothly. “yet… your naivety was one of the traits that made me stay. i don’t want it to fade, i wish to protect it instead. you remained so lovely, so good-hearted despite what the world threw against us. before i knew it, you became the constant in my life that held no advantage but i valued the most. the one i only ever cared for after my mother—you who held the same warmth and affection as her.”
his hand silently asked for permission to hold yours as he held it out, but not before stripping away his glove. once you reached out, his rough-edged fingers honed by callouses gently lingered your smooth and soft fingertips. it was clear that he had forbidden you to do any vigorous work.
he held eye contact with enough firmness that still hinted at his sentiment. “i ask of you. have me.”
you breathed out a laugh. “again, you don’t need to ask.”
“i’ll ask again and again if necessary,” he muttered against your wrist as he cupped his face with your hand that he held so dearly.
“and i’ll be giving the same answer again and again.”
for once, diego smiled. genuine and amused. “which is?”
you returned his smile with one of your own: content and affectionate.
summary: recently, things have gotten worse and you struggle to leave the bed. your husband, leon s. kennedy, worries about you.
song: five string serenade - mazzy star
"what's wrong honey?"
"i don't know."
"are you hungry?"
"i don't know."
"do you think you'll go to work tomorrow?"
"i don't know."
you didn't know. you couldn't label how you felt. you always thought you were good at labelling your feelings and speaking about how you felt. you thought you were articulate; you read a lot, wrote a lot, drew a lot. you could express yourself in so many different forms. so why couldn't you just tell leon what was wrong with you?
'wrong' with you.
was it even wrong to feel this way? you heard about people losing their fire, and then coming out the other side better than ever, learning something new about themselves. you were floating, not moving forward, just stagnant.
maybe you were doing depression wrong. or this was a forever feeling, and it was never going to go away. this infinite numbness that was going to continue to penetrate your mind and eat away at you.
over the years, you had coped with your depression better and better, even your husband commented on how much happier you seemed.
you heard the floorboards creak, the floorboards that leon was meant to fix ages ago, a cautious padding of feet approaching the room. the door squeaked open, leon paused, watching you from the doorway.
your depression always crept in, unnoticeable at first. you would take longer to get out of bed in the morning. your eyes would burn with exhaustion when driving home after work. your food portions became smaller. you blew through your cigarette packet quicker than usual. you would unintentionally fall asleep everywhere in the house.
everywhere.
including the bathtub.
that night redefined your marriage. you couldn't let it happen again.
but that was years ago.
and now you had fucked all your progress up because you couldn't leave your bed.
your eyes never left the wall. it was a light blue, you told leon it would light up the room, make it less dingy after he said he wanted grey - reminding you to never let this man decorate the house. if you squinted your eyes closed enough, you could see a small stain. a stain that you have no clue to what it could be, or you do - and you'd rather not think about where it came from. the grainy texture of the paint, the smooth parts and the bumpy parts, the plaster that filled what once was a dent in the wall, the faint splatters of paint near the desk area. it all reminded you of a life before the hollowness in your chest.
stop running away from your problems, you told yourself.
you liked running, physically and mentally. leon was the opposite. you admired his mindset, but you saw where it ended. the copious amounts of empty bottles in the recycling.
in the end, both of you craved what was going to destroy you.
your inability to get up embarrassed you. just move your stupid arm or move your stupid leg. sinking into your mattress of hatred and despair, you imagined your mattress growing around you like it was going to eventually engulf and absorb you.
getting up meant dealing with things. you'd have to find your underwear, and then realise you needed to do the laundry, and then you'd get hungry and would have to make dinner, but then you would realise you couldn't make dinner without groceries and then you would have to get fully dressed to go out, and how it never ended. you wished you could just do it once and for all and to be done with it.
every other adult did this, why couldn't you?
your lifeless body lay across the bed, only your hair was visible, peeking over the duvet. the drawn curtains caged you in this tumbling darkness, a cold lace draped around the room.
his mouth opened to say something, something like a stupid joke, but then clamped shut again as his throat tightened. his eyebrows furrowing and then relaxing before he made his way to the bed.
"c'mon baby. i'll run you a warm bath if you get up," leon murmured, sliding into the bed with you, his arms wrapping around you.
"i don't feel like it," you said, a distance woven into your voice.
no matter how close he held you tight, he couldn't have you fully.
there was nothing about today that made you want to move. it was already the afternoon. you wasted half the day, there was no point in starting it now. in fact, it annoyed you that your husband even suggested getting up at this time.
you hated the afternoons. pointless waiting around time. he knew that.
"these cold feet tell me otherwise," he hummed, his warm feet touching your icy ones - puncturing your self-hatred.
"i'm not ready to get up," you whispered. "i have so many things to do. you probably think i'm lazy."
your frozen hand suddenly twisted into a fist, curling around your shirt. or his shirt, you just stole it, and he stopped asking for it back.
"why would i think that?" you could feel his warm breath against your shoulder. something about this gentle warmth kept you afloat.
"because i'm a grown adult with responsibilities like everyone else. this is childish." you admitted, becoming quieter.
his arms pulled you closer to him and he rested his chin in the familiar space between your neck and your shoulder.
"it's okay to feel down," he said with a certainty. "you're the hardest worker i know."
"that's the biggest lie i've ever heard." you scoffed.
"forgot about how terribly stubborn you are." his chuckle tickled the back of your neck.
"i'm not stubborn." you snapped, reflex faster than the sadness.
"i think you are just proving my point here, hun." he laughed a little, "you're still you. still arguing with me over something silly. so i know a part of you can sit up."
"you're so corny," you huffed, bringing your arm out to push his face away. his stubble scratched your hand, and he pressed a kiss against your palm.
"works every time." he mumbled against your fingers that were pressing against his mouth.
you then slowly retreated them back under the duvet.
"i haven't felt this way in so long. i'm just... fucking everything up all over again. i'm the same person i always have been. i haven't changed." you sighed, drowning in your spiral.
he held you closer to him, as if he was trying to absorb all your mental pain. he saw you change with his own eyes. he saw the smile grow back onto your face again, he saw you begin to argue with him about silly things again, he saw you laugh at his corny jokes again.
"you know healing-"
"isn't linear yeah, yeah." you interrupted him.
"wasn't gonna say that."
you didn't respond, feeling the barbed wire tighten around your throat, like if you swallowed wrong it would tear something open.
"you think you're still the same?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and brushing your hair out of your face.
you didn't answer him. you stared at the wall instead. if you released anything right now, it was all going to come crumbling, crashing and toppling down.
"when it got bad, back then, you kept it to yourself." he paused, remembering how that ended. "but you're telling me you're struggling. that's not the same. that's better than keeping it to yourself."
his precise wording, the way he paused before saying sentences just told you everything you needed to know. he was scared all over again, worried that saying the wrong thing would trigger you further into the hole you were falling into. he couldn't let that happen.
"can you run me a bath?" you said, suddenly.
you could hear his breath hitch like he was about to say something, but he said yes, pressed a kiss onto your temple and disappeared down the hallway.
the water faucet turned on, the water splashing into the porcelain bath tub. it filled the dusty quiet of the house.
you couldn't stand his voice any longer, you hated the tenderness within it. his pathetic attempts at comforting you. before he would tease you and excitedly trot down the hallway humming away, off-key. this time, he saw straight through your deceitful ways, now he was cautious. he was walking on egg shells in his own house because of you.
you hoped, cruelly, that he would run the bath, tell you it was ready, and you would tell him you would get there in a second, and forget about it. just fall asleep again, because you never planned on bathing anyway.
what sort of cruel wife dangles progress in front of her husband like bait, letting him believe he could still reach you?
you imagined the steam fogging the mirror, him dipping his fingers in the water multiple times to ensure it wasn't too hot.
disgusted by yourself, the selfishness of it all, the greed in wasting his time, the lack of consideration for how this was affecting him. rotten, that's what you were. it was sour and spoiled your corpse of a body, spreading throughout all your veins.
you heard the soft clink of bottles being placed down and then the rustle of fabric. you pictured him folding your freshly cleaned pajamas and towels and placing your soaps on the side of the tub.
he married someone bright and determined, someone who argued with him about the colour of the walls and forced him to come to antique shops. not a body in the bed.
a burden.
not someone who wasted his time, just to see if he still cared. not someone who made her husband audition for her love.
pressing your face further into the pillow, your forehead twitched. you wished that you could suffocate your thoughts but they just kept taking root.
you were going to waste it.
the water would still, waiting for your body that was never planning on coming. after some time, it would cool and all the bubbles would dissolve. leon would drain it, pretending that this never happened as the last bubble fell down the drain.
the water shut off.
footsteps didn't come immediately. but they did, eventually.
"it's ready honey." he said softly, the door opening a little as he pushed it against his fingertips.
"i'll be there in a minute." you croaked out, your nails digging into your thigh, leaving crescent-shaped marks. disgusting.
the thin bar of warm yellow light from the hallway slipped into the room, running across the pooling duvet.
"okay." he replied, his footsteps retreating down the hallway. not angry, not disappointed. just 'okay'.
your chest tightened. you squeezed your eyes shut, just hoping that maybe, everything would just disappear. you prayed that maybe you would get sick or some catastrophic external event would happen so none of this would be your fault anymore. because it had been you.
seeing his shaking hands and his pleading cries after that night changed you. saying your name over and over again as if repetition alone could've brought you back to normalcy. even if it was an accident, it scared both of you enough. he drove himself to exhaustion making sure you were okay. you noticed his constant hovering afterwards, his sudden desire to make you food all the time, the way he would check your pulse in the middle of the night. you didn't mean to fall asleep in the bath, you weren't trying to kill yourself. but the water didn't care about intent. and intent didn't change impact.
"leon." you called out, mustering up all the energy you could. he had fought hard for you, and now you were going to fight hard for him. it didn't mean pretending you were okay, but it meant being open and honest.
too quickly, like he was hoping for this, he poked his head around the door. the light from the bathroom haloed him briefly. the mattress dipped, his weight sitting on it.
"i'm here," he said, his hand firmly holding your shoulder.
"i want to get up." you said, "i'll get in the bath you made. i don't want this to end like it did last time."
suddenly, tears spilled from your eyes, your frame heaving up and down. everything burst and crumbled. your body folded in on itself as you tried to hide yourself.
"oh, honey," his voice was low and steady as he pulled you into his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. "i've got you baby."
"i can't even get up. i can't get up and have a bath." you choked on your words, sobs breaking through. "you shouldn't have to deal with this."
"i didn't get married to you to only have you on your good days," he said, rubbing firm circles into your hip. "you getting up is not small to me."
"it's small to everyone else." you mumbled, sniffling.
"you're not married to everyone else." he whispered, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. you huffed slightly as your fingers held onto him tighter.
"you go out fighting horrors that i can't even imagine. you shouldn't have to come home to this."
he stilled, his rough fingers holding one side of your face and wiping the tears that spilled down your cheek. he gently brought your chin up to look at his eyes.
"don't do that."
"don't what-"
"don't compare." he hushed, "you think what i deal with makes this less real?"
you tried to move your face away from his grip, but tears kept leaking from your eyes.
"i'm sorry for being like this."
"what are you apologising for?" he asked, "just because i fight things that are visible, doesn't make the things you fight any less painful. i said this before and i'll say it again, you're the hardest worker i know."
you went quiet, your sobs broke into gasps, sharp little inhales that hurt your chest. leon didn't say anything, he didn't rush you, or overwhelm you or fill the silence. he only continued to trace gentle, grounding circles into your back with his thumb. your forehead rested on his collarbone, his scent was a mixture of cologne and that slight earthy smell from when he spent too long in the garden.
then your breathing gradually evened. you pulled away from his body, his hands still holding you as you blinked through the blur. you noticed the damp patch on his shirt. everything felt lighter, the heaviness of the duvet wasn't as suffocating as before. leon pressed his lips against your forehead.
"you done apologising?"
"maybe." you whispered. his lips twitched.
"i'll take maybe." he laughed a little, relief overwhelming him. you two held each other in silence for a little longer, relaxing in one another's warmth.
"i want to get up." you said, clutching onto him a little tighter.
"okay." he began, "let's sit up first-"
"if i change my mind about this-" you broke out, breaths going uneven.
"then we change our minds and i'll stay with you until you're ready again. i'm not leaving your side." his hand firm on your shoulder still, tilting his head to catch your gaze. he had that reassuring look that he always had, no matter the situation, it somehow made you think everything was going to be okay. the sort of reassurance and warmth that had you remembering when you first met him and he flashed you that boyish grin of his. the one that made you fall in love with him. your breathing evened.
"okay." you pressed your lips together, his smile now filling you with determination.
"ready?"
you nodded.
he shifted himself so he was sat on the edge of the bed, and you pushed yourself up using your elbows. leon's hand instinctively shot out to support your lower back, steadying you before you could even ask. the room swayed, your vision swimming. as your head slowly turned to him, you saw the small proud smile that was ghosting on his lips.
he stood up, but his touch never left.
"ready for standing up?"
you hummed in agreement and shifted your feet off the bed slowly, until they touched the cold of the floor. your hands clutched onto leon's damp shirt as you pushed yourself up.
you stood.
you knees felt weak and your head felt light, but you were up. you leant into leon, his firm solidness made the twist in your chest loosen.
"there she is." he said, a smile in his voice.
despite everything, you were standing.
note: if this does well, i might write a part 2 of the reader getting in the bath, or if anyone else has any other suggestions i'd love to hear them. i hope everyone is okay, just saw the sun for the first time in so long - i didn't need to go outside with a scarf or coat it was so nice. i even got ice-cream, that's how excited i am for the summer. through editing this i also noticed that i unintentionally made an undertale reference.
re9 leon who's spent years pining after you, but solidly locked it behind layers and layers of highly guarded walls and amidst the clutter of all things repressed in him.
re9 leon who thinks he's missed his chance with you. or that he never had it to begin with. it's been too long, the timing's off, he's never been able to give you what you deserve—
and you deserve the world. not a man pushing 50 whose every expedition is so fraught he can't guarantee you he'll ever return to you safe and sound, much less return at all. his luck has an expiration date, and you shouldn't be there when it spoils.
re9 leon who buckles embarrassingly quick once you've had enough of the back and forth, the 'will we, won't we', the way he keeps himself at an arm's length at all times but the way that same arm is still held protectively in front of you whenever the situation calls for it.
re9 leon who can't believe his luck when you finally get together, who puts you on a pedestal of his own making— lovingly built with your every flaw and virtue in mind. he's too old to idealize, to see anything but the reality of who you are and still think it's far beyond the wildest reaches of his imagination.
the world is quieter around you, and you make him dream for once.
re9 leon who's at once reserved and unabashed, so forthcoming with the way he loves you because age has made him reckon with the nature of time yet almost shy when he realizes the depth of his gestures — particularly when you return them, when he's on the receiving end.
re9 leon who's every part the hardened veteran, weary beyond his years, but melts into your every touch, your every kiss. chases after you.
re9 leon who gets greedy, with his heart and with his hands, but who can't bring himself to care for as long as you'll have him around. who always checks in, reassures your every doubt, heeds your every word.
Hihi!! I was wondering if I could request Invisigal with an f!reader who dresses kinda cutesie (pastel goth preferably!!) and is basically the SDN's local anxiety-ridden mess? Visi will flirt with her and she'll just kinda... malfunction. She fidgets a lot, whether it be with her hair, clothes, or jewelry.
Reader has powers (u can decide what they are!!), but never really used them unless she had to because, admittedly, she was scared of getting into fights and stuff, prefering to fly under the radar on the sidelines. But, once she joined the SDN, she slowly started using them a bit more, becoming the hero that was sent in as a last resort if things went bad. You can make this spicy if you want to, but if you're more comfortable without spice then that's fine too!
Hello hello! I finally had the time to do your request, and I hope you like it :D I'll do the other reqs in my inbox once I have the time again! Happy holidays <3
Angel | Invisigal (Dispatch)
SUMMARY: You never expected to catch someone's attention. Especially since you preferred keeping to yourself most of the time. But when the Phoenix Program was created, you find yourself catching the interest of someone who smelled like smoke and smirked like trouble.
CONTENT: WLW pairing, Visi being a little shit, Making out, Mentions of injuries, Anxious behavior, No explicit content, Fem Pastel Goth! Reader, Light jealousy, Mentions of Anxious Attachment.
WC: 7K
RATING: MATURE
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Ever since Blonde Blazer recruited you into the Phoenix Program, you've been struggling with how to function entirely.
It's not that you were treated badly. Well, you did harbor lingering looks during your first day on the building where Blazer toured you around. It's not everyday you'd see someone wearing an alternative style and a colorful dress layered with accessories, but at least they didn't comment too much about it!
You could say you stuck out like a sore thumb in the building. While everyone mostly stuck to the brand colors—red, yellow, blue, green, orange—you fashioned your pastels. Pink, white, on occasion some black, and more. While you felt out of place at first, you came to discover there were other heroes who sported a unique style of their own, which helped lessen the odd sensation of being alienated.
In the span of six months, you adjusted with your new job as best as you could. You even earned the nickname, Angel, when they discovered your superpower during your first assistance on an injured hero team.
Everyone knew who you were, and while you made a few acquaintances here and there, you still preferred to keep to yourself. Socializing wasn't exactly your strongest forte, especially around new people. There were times when you froze in place just because someone called your name so loud that it made you panic. You knew they didn't mean harm, but in a place surrounded by retired veterans and aspiring new heroes, the environment still intimidated you during your first few months.
Fortunately they respected you enough, and mostly left you alone or kept their interactions as brief as possible. Maybe Blazer had mentioned your anxiety to them prior. Maybe that's why they were… soft with you.
Blonde Blazer didn't exactly place you in a permanent team, and your position in the SDN branch was to simply aid others on the field as the back up.
Which, to you, was perfectly fine!
Dealing and fighting off villains twice your size and strength scared you.
Your powers didn't necessarily specialize in physical combat or as a powerful transmitter. It was more of a healing type of power that involved using your own energy to cast light and mend any injuries—minor or severe—within a ten feet radius. That's why Blonde Blazer put you in the medical department instead. Though, while you didn't have any prior background to being a hero (or a villain), she still took you under her wing as your mentor.
Every Monday and Friday, you'd meet up with her for training.
To test your skills, strengthen your combat, raise your stats and hone your abilities so that if you ever were deployed in the field, you'd know how to defend yourself.
And you were glad you took up on her lessons.
Especially since there was a new program created by SDN.
The Phoenix Program.
And the first team created was none other than the Z-team.
It's only been a month since they’ve been formed, and you watched every Dispatcher handling them either transfer to a new team (or branch) or ultimately give up on the first day. You couldn't honestly blame them. When you first met the Z-team, your anxiety spiked up the moment you entered the conference room and felt every piercing stare on you.
Blonde Blazer, although you knew she could perfectly handle the situation, still asked for your presence if things got out of control.
You gathered a breath, channeling a sliver of your power to blanket the space. It was nearly intangible, and if they were perceptive enough, they would've noticed the room gradually brightening.
Then, you sensed their emotions.
Apprehension. Distrust. Doubts.
Exhaling quietly, you released a soothing wave of comfort over them.
In an instant, you noticed their postures relaxing and their hardened gazes softening. You also noticed the confusion on their faces, but with the lax state of their bodies as of the moment, you knew they wouldn't question the strange phenomenon aloud.
Blonde Blazer seemed to pick up on your work, smiling at you from the corner of your eye.
“Alright,” Blonde Blazer clapped her hands, the smile on her face corporate but genuine. “Everyone, I’m honored to have you all here today. I’m Blonde Blazer, and I’m sure most of you are still wary of me and the organization. But this program was created to give hope and chances for those people who want to redeem themselves from the life of villainy. And I’m pleased to welcome you all here today to…”
As your mentor droned on her formal introduction, you can't help but shudder upon feeling a sharp stare on you.
Lifting your gaze from your studded boots, you met gazes with one of the new members and tensed at the sight of her smirk.
The woman had dark hair, cut in an asymmetric way that screamed trouble. Her magenta cropped jacket, septum piercing, and crossed arms all raised alarm bells in your head. Out of everyone here, she was the one who looked normal. No judgement to the large figure sitting at the corner, the massive demon woman who winked at you, or the one with blades on her back—
“So, you gonna introduce us to little miss pinky pie over there?”
You flinched, fiddling with the hem of your plaid skirt as you snapped your gaze below.
Pinky pie?
The others snickered at the new nickname, and you couldn't prevent the nervous laugh tumbling out of your lips as a response.
Blonde Blazer paused in her words, a displeased frown replacing her smile.
“Settle down, everyone!” She stepped aside, and you felt the dread come back again once you were in full view. “Everyone, meet Angel. Not her real name, but that's what we call her. She's one of our Aid Heroes! You'll be expecting her assistance from time to time during your field work. Angel, meet the Z-team.”
Gulping, you forced yourself to look up from your bowed tights and smiled.
“Hello,” You waved a gloved hand at them, voice soft yet trembling. “I'm Angel. It's nice to meet you all. I’ll be helping you from the sidelines. And um, yeah. Looking forward to working with you!”
All you received was silence, and you lowered your hand back down out of embarrassment.
Your chest constricted, the weight of their stares and the indifferent expressions on their faces did nothing but fuel the nerves in your system. They may have been former villains looking for redemption, and even though they deserved a second chance in society, you still can't help but feel anxious in their presence.
Did I say too much? Or not enough?
Sneaking a glance back at the same woman who spoke up, you found her smirk still present. But there was something else brewing beneath her energy. Something dark, curious, and dangerous.
You gulped, shifting in your spot.
Just nervous jitters. Totally fine!
You released a shaky breath, glancing back at Blonde Blazer who gave you a small reassuring smile. It seemed she was satisfied with your introduction, causing your body to relax at the sight.
“Thank you, Angel.” She placed her hand on your shoulder, and you smiled at her gratefully. “Now, everyone, I'd like you to introduce yourselves as well. It'd be a nice way to get to know each other, since you'll be working closely from now on.”
Then, she directed her attention towards the first person closest to her.
The man who wore a skin-tight suit with a deep v-line cut and fiery amber eyes.
“Flambae,” He didn't look at you or Blazer when he spoke, addressing the table instead. “You fuckers might know me already. If you do, good for you. If you don't, who fucking cares?”
You sealed away the information, silently listening to the next introductions after him.
The woman with the bi-colored palette you kept admiring from earlier was called Prism. She commented on your outfit with a snap of her fingers, smiling from her seat.
“Love the fit, girl!”
Golem, who was the dirt and clay construct sitting at the corner. He seemed pretty chill, with a low soothing voice that surprised you.
Coupé, the one with the sharp blades on her back and an ever sharper glare on her eyes. You found yourself admiring her style as well, itching to know more about her.
Punch Up, the gruff yet jovial man who grinned at you. You liked him immediately. He sort of reminded you of an uncle growing up who’d spoil you with ice cream.
The demon who winked at you earlier was Malevola, and you gave her a small smile in return. She looked intimidatingly strong, but at least she didn't wink at you again.
Then, there was Sonar, who immediately bragged about being a Harvard graduate at his turn. Who later added half-man, half-bat, all freak. His words, not yours.
And lastly—
“Invisibitch,” You blinked at her name, then flinched when she trailed her dark eyes in your direction. “Or what I've been newly baptized with, Invisigal. Don't try to get close to me. It won't end well.”
You're not sure if she's addressing the table or you in her last sentences.
Blonde Blazer seemed content with that, clapping her hands again. “Alright! That's settled then. Welcome to the Phoenix Program, everyone. You'll be meeting your Dispatcher later. For now, let's get settled with the rules…”
You tried to listen to her words. You really tried to focus on the important things she might be saying. However, you couldn't concentrate well enough to understand any of it. Because while you were avoiding everyone's stare, focusing on the bracelets on your wrists and the rings on your fingers, you felt the unmistakable weight of someone staring at you the whole time.
When you dared to take a peek, you saw Invisigal looking at you with an indecipherable glint in her dark eyes.
When you looked away, the weight never left.
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You didn't know what you said or did in that conference room a month ago. But ever since then, you've been followed and surprised everywhere you went.
Because now, you had a shadow.
And it was in the shape of an asymmetric haircut, cropped magenta jacket, and eyes that gleamed trouble.
Invisigal.
Contrary to her words, she seemed to like getting close to you. You didn't approach her most of the time, choosing to stay out of her path just before she saw you. However, she really enjoyed popping out of nowhere—literally because of her powers—whether to ask what you were doing or simply bother you from doing your tasks.
You honestly didn't know why she started hanging around you. The others, especially the entire Z-team, noticed how much she began clinging on you every time you were in the same room. Malevola commented one time how Visi was like a cat around you, and you couldn't help but agree to her words. Some days, Visi left you alone without so much of a passing glance. But most days, you'll have to pray not to get jumpscared by her sudden presence manifesting into thin air—
“Hey, Angel.”
Yelping, you jumped at the sudden voice speaking so close in your ear.
Oh no.
You cautiously looked back to see the one and only woman smirking in amusement at your reaction.
“Oh– Hi, Visi!” You offered her a small smile, fiddling with the sleeve of your dress. “Did you, um, need something?”
Visi tilted her head at you, appraising your dress with barely concealed delight. “New dress? Getting all dolled up now, huh? Wonder who that could be for.”
You stepped back as she leaned towards you, crowding you against the wall. “Uh, no. It's not– I mean yes, it's new! But it's not–”
“For me?” Visi placed a hand beside your head, smirking at you. “For who then? For Blazer? Is that why you're so eager to please her?”
What?
Shaking your head, you held up your hands and averted your gaze. “It's not like that! I just like to dress like this. And Blonde Blazer is only my mentor. We're not–”
She took your chin between her fingers, forcing you to look at her again. That dangerous glint in her eyes flashed, and you shivered at the proximity between your faces. Anyone could walk down this hall and see the position you're in! Not to mention, you're already ten minutes late to Blazer's office. If anyone would see, HR would definitely get involved and you could get into serious trouble—
“Hey,” Visi swiped a thumb across your bottom lip, causing your breath to hitch. “I'm just fucking with you. Seeing you all flustered just makes my day, y'know? Can't help it. You're too fucking cute.”
Her face inched closer, so close that your noses almost brushed together.
Meanwhile, your knees could barely support your weight from how intense you're trembling.
You've never been this close to anyone before. Even around another woman. It's been a month since you met her and the team, and each time you crossed paths, she became bolder and bolder. No matter how many times you tried to escape, Visi always knew where to find you. You didn't understand why she chose you, of all people, to mess with. And these games she's been playing were only messing with your head.
You were about to open your mouth, ready to defend yourself, when she beat you first.
“I wonder why they call you Angel.”
“What?”
“Why do they call you that?”
“Oh... Well, it's because–”
“Your powers,” Finally, Visi removed her hand from the wall and retreated to cross her arms. “I know. But we haven't seen it in action yet. Are you hiding it from us? Some kind of deadly, super cracked power stronger than Blazer? Or… are you like a real fucking angel?”
Gulping, you began playing with the hem of your skirt.
That was true.
You haven't shown the Z-team your powers yet, at least, not all of it. The only part they knew from you was that you could heal. They've experienced it some many times after having one too many close calls with their work. When one or two of them get severely injured, you'll be dispatched on site to heal them back to perfect health.
Most of them were convinced that was the extent of it. However, Visi was like a curious cat. She kept prodding and poking you about your alias, why everyone kept calling you that, and what was your true power. Beneath her flirtation and charm, there was that dark curiosity threatening to uncover you—to piece you apart and find whatever she’s searching for underneath.
“It’s not–” You tried to meet her stare, but ultimately failed. “I promise it's nothing bad! I'm just an aid hero. I heal and help you guys.”
Visi hummed, still not convinced, but at least the smirk on her face was back.
She took a step forward, then another, and another.
Until she was right in front of your face again, so close you could smell the traces of her scent. Lavender, smoke, and traces of something sweet like a pastry. Everything made your head spin. The proximity, her scent, the way her eyes dropped to your lips and darkened when you parted them to release a shaky breath.
But no air came out. You can't breathe, not when she was this close and her face was coming closer.
And closer.
And—
“There you are– Oh.”
In the blink of an eye, Visi vanished into thin air with a startled gasp. And you were left standing alone, staring into an empty space, or maybe she was still there staring back at you.
You heard footsteps, the steady set of boots coming towards you, and suddenly Blonde Blazer was at your side.
She took one good at your flushed features and your wide-eyed stare, then the whole scene.
A hum came out of her, and you finally blinked out of your reverie.
“So, that's why you're late.” Blonde Blazer crossed her arms, staring off into the end of the hall. “Was she bothering you again? I could get into HR and– Woah!”
She caught you just in time before you hit the ground.
After that day, for the next following weeks, Visi kept up with her games. Surprising you out of nowhere, delaying your training with Blonde Blazer, and tailing you wherever you went. Each time she’d corne you again and speak to you in that low and alluring voice, before leaving you dazed and confused.
And it kept getting worse.
Not only did she get bolder. She got more comfortable.
You're very particular with who can initiate physical contact with you, and at least you should know them enough to be able to be comfortable. However, Visi cannot, for the life of hers, read your boundaries. Always pulling you by your waist, leaning close with that infuriating smirk on her face. Every time you bump into each other in the office, you don't have time to escape when she's already crowding you back into another wall.
Keeping her game going, making you flustered and sending you into a near coma with how detailed her words become whenever she whispers in your ear. It started off innocently. Praising your outfit, your accessories, your hair, and how pretty you look in a skirt. Then, it became downright filthy. How she wants to find out if you had a matching set underneath, how you'd react if she started slipping her fingers beneath, and how'd you look when she's making you feel good.
You should be bothered by it. You were bothered at first.
But why did you start feeling… excited?
Why were you beginning to anticipate her next move? Why did your heart beat so fast every time you saw her? And what was the ugly feeling in your stomach when you saw her talking so close to their new Dispatcher, a man named Robert Robertsone the third, and why were you bothered by that?
You honestly couldn't understand why.
It's not that you developed feelings for her or anything.
Right? Right?
Then, why did you start dressing up more for her attention? Why did you start greeting her when you passed by the same hallway? Why did you suddenly feel ill when she grew distant, hanging around their new Dispatcher like how she did with you? Why did you feel abandoned every time you walked past her and she wouldn't even spare you a glance?
That never happened before.
And you didn't understand why you felt betrayed.
You had nothing going on, and maybe whatever she was playing with you really was a game of hers. A sadistic, confusing, and cruel game. It was only a matter of time before she got bored.
Because now, her attention was elsewhere.
Stolen by Robert, who had just been recruited by Blazer, who also became fascinated by him at the same time.
Why did you feel so left out?
Forgotten?
You tried. You really tried to forget about it.
But you can't help the heavy feeling in your chest every time you watch Visi and Blazer cling to that new Dispatcher. At the same time, you honestly couldn't blame them. When you talked to him the first time, or tried to, he didn't shun you away just because you kept stuttering or failed to make eye contact. Instead, he eased your nerves with a soft smile and led the conversation calmly.
He possessed a naturally soothing aura that rivalled your power. With him, it came easily. That air of comfort and understanding. Unlike you, he didn't need a superpower to get others to feel at ease around him. He even taught you how to manage your anxiety, while still validating how you felt, and told you ways how to control it rather than letting it control you.
You quickly understood why they liked him. He was a good guy. Not just from the way he interacted with you, but you could sense it with your power. He was selfless, committed, and mature. And not only that, from the first week of his work, the Z-team has shown a rather surprising yet pleasant progress no one has seen coming.
He was the change that turned their lives upside down. He was what they needed right from the start.
Their chance of redemption.
Their silver lining to becoming not just heroes.
But good heroes.
Still, you can't help the bitter emotion bridling in your chest. It wasn't anger. It wasn't indifference.
It was envy.
Without even trying, he managed to get both Visi and Blazer's attention.
But why?
Why did you feel envious of it?
Why did your heart break every time Visi smiled at him the way she smiled at you before? Why did you start missing her little teasing and taunting? Why did you want her to look at you again and not him?
It was so confusing! It was frustrating.
And you shouldn't be thinking of that—of her—when you have bigger problems to worry about,
Shaking your head, you focused on the paperwork you were tasked to sort. Just updated medical records of the recent injuries that needed to be filed away.
Last week, with the rise of Red Ring’s attacks, many heroes have fallen injured or temporarily indisposed. These agents were becoming more and more clever with their traps. And it was taking a toll on many of your heroes’ morale. Including the Z-team. And you can't help but feel there was something more behind all of these—something much more dangerous working under your noses.
“Half of our teams are down,” You gave the papers back to Blazer, frowning at the documents. “I can't help but feel… I don't know. I feel like this is all on purpose.”
Blonde Blazer perked up at that, fixing you with a questioning look. “On purpose? What are you saying?”
It's just a gut feeling.
It's probably nothing.
But I can't shake it off.
Peering up at her, you took a shaky breath in. “I just feel like… It’s weird. Don't you find it suspicious they're targeting our strongest units?”
You heard her hum, her chair creaking as she leaned forward to ponder over your words.
She probably has enough problems to deal with!
“But it's just a thought!” You quickly waved your hands around, smiling sheepishly. “I just… I don't know. It feels like they’re targeting our strongest divisions first. I'm probably not making any sense. Just forget about it–”
“No,” Blazer was shaking her head, then nodded along. “No, you're right. It's weird, isn't it? I mean it really depends on our shifts, but it's like they know who's on the clock. They only attack when our top teams are available. But how do they know–”
The door slammed open, causing you to jolt in your seat and snap your gaze towards the direction.
Robert Robertson was there, panting, his frantic brown eyes reaching Blazer's before they landed on you.
“Angel,” He stumbled inside, and you noticed his headset was still on. “I need you. The team needs your help. Are you available?”
Sensing his distress, you shot up from your seat and clasped your hands together.
“My help? What happ–”
“They're attacked. Visi and Waterboy are surrounded. The others too.”
Visi?
“Please,” His hands rested on your shoulders, and your eyes widened at the desperation on his features. “Help them. Blazer told me you can.”
You gulped, sweating, glancing at your mentor to see her pursed lips and set gaze.
She nodded, standing up from her desk. “If what you're saying is true. That they're targeting our strongest first. That means they're leaving us with our weakest defenses. They're definitely planning something.”
Your breath hitched, now understanding the picture.
Robert seemed confused however, but before he could ask, you gently pushed his hands away and exhaled.
“I'll go,” He sagged with relief, nodding a silent thanks. “Where are they?”
He told you each of their individual locations, spanning across all of South Torrance, and you felt your nerves lit with trepidation. They were scattered. That meant they'd see your power, and you had no choice but to resort to using it if you wanted to get there faster.
Sighing, you gave them both a weak smile before stepping back.
“This might… get a little bright.”
────────────── ★ ───────────────
Visi pulled Waterboy back behind a wall, heaving shallow breaths and retrieving a spare inhaler from her pocket.
“Fuck, where's that back up Robert called?”
“They should be here– or close!”
“Then, where the fuck are they?”
“I–I don't know. Robert isn't responding.”
Visi peeked through the corner and saw the Red Ring agents closing in on them. “Well, that's just fucking great.”
With both of them injured, not expecting an ambush from the shadows, there wasn’t much to do but to stay hidden and wait for the back up Robert promised earlier. So far, no one has shown up yet. None of the others were responding as well. Maybe the back up caught up to them, or worse case scenario they were injured too.
Visi may be an atheist, but at this moment, she really hoped someone up there would heed her prayers right now.
“Come out, come out where you are!” A Red Ring agent sang mockingly, his heavy footsteps echoing along the hall. “Not so tough now huh, Invisibitch? Should've run away like you always do.”
Waterboy clutched his injured arm, blinking in confusion. “Wha–What does he mean? Like you always do– what did you do?”
“Nothing!” Visi snapped, gritting her teeth in frustration. “That guy's spitting bullshit. He's baiting us out.”
Thankfully, Waterboy seemed to buy that.
Meanwhile, the agent kept walking closer and closer to where they hid. An earsplitting scrape dragged against the floors, something sharp like metal or steel, and they both winced at the sound.
With Waterboy’s arm wounded and Visi’s strength quickly diminishing, there was no way they could defeat the guy. Even with their number, they knew they wouldn't stand a chance with someone who carried a weapon that could harm them even more. The best they could do was wait, but the closer he got, the heavier the dread they felt.
Visi held her arm out, shielding Waterboy behind her. She pressed on her earpiece, whispering frantically into the channel.
“Robert? Fucking hell, where are you?”
The footsteps thundered closer, and she held her breath in response.
Pressing on her comms again, she was about to call his name again when his voice filtered through the channel.
“Back up’s on the way,” She sighed in relief at that, and heard Waterboy draw a similar exhale. “Just a head’s up. Close your eyes when you see her.”
Her?
Blinking, Visi peeked through the wall. “What the fuck do you mean by–”
A heavy axe crashed down in front of her. She barely had enough time to jump back, grabbing Waterboy's uninjured arm and running past the agent while he was still recovering from his swing. But she didn't get too far when his other hand shot out, pulling her back by her neck and throwing her across the hall.
Landing against the wall with a loud thud, Visi groaned as she slid down on the ground.
The back of her head pulsed, throbbing in immense pain. She distinctly heard Waterboy shouting her name, but black spots were already dancing at the edges of her vision and there was a loud ringing in her ears. She needed to get up and fight, but her lungs felt too cramped. Her muscles begged for rest after long hours of battle, and her breathing was coming in and out too fast—the oxygen failing to enter.
Her mind screamed for her to move and help, but her body was already straining and her chest was aching.
She didn't even realize Robert was speaking in her ear, calling out her name and telling her to stand up.
The darkness multiplied, but before she slipped into the void, a light emerged from the shadows and filled her vision like an explosion.
The last thing she heard was a whistling echo.
The last thing she felt was a wave of peace and comfort washing over her drained body.
And the last thing she saw was a figure with wings made out of light flying towards her.
Right then and there, she was convinced God existed. Because before her eyes fell shut, one word flashed across her mind.
Angel.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
The moment Visi woke up, she was in SDN’s infirmary.
The cool and sterile smell of the room filled her lungs. The scent made her head throb in dull pain. When she slowly came to, she reached up and touched her forehead. Bandages. So someone did come and save them. But who the fuck was that?
Blinking, Visi set her hand down and stared at the ceiling.
The last thing she remembered was blacking out, but before that… there was something else. Something she should remember. Or rather, someone. But all her brain could come up with was a fogged memory. A memory of a bright flash, a song—lilting and soft—and there was the warm wave of peace blanketing her body. She never felt like that before. Like every pain in her body, even the tight feeling in her chest has never existed.
But why?
Who was that? What was that?
As much as she tried to remember, Visi couldn't get past the fog clouding her head. As if something was preventing her from remembering.
Or someone was blocking her memories.
“You're awake!”
She flinched, looking at the doors to see you walking towards her wearing a small smile.
Relaxing, Visi laid back down and exhaled. “Fuck, Angel. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
You fiddled with your skirt, chuckling nervously. “Sorry about that. I was just here to, uh, check on you. We've been checking on you for two days now. And I’m– We're glad you're finally awake.”
“Where are the others?” Visi glanced around the room, brows furrowed. “Is Waterboy okay? Did he make it out?”
She watched your gaze fall to the floor, and her stomach dropped.
“He's fine,” Oh, thank fucking god. “They're all fine! Compared to you, they didn't sustain any major injuries. Just broken arms, legs, and wounds. But you were… You must've hit your head, and it's been two days since that.”
Two days?
Visi blinked, sitting up quickly to stare at you incredulously. “Two fucking days? How much did I miss?”
You waved your hands around with that adorable nervous look on your face she knew and adored.
“Nothing much! Everything's under control.”
“And what about the Red Ring?”
“Uh, yeah… They've been dealt with.”
“By who?”
Gulping, you stepped back and averted your eyes again. “By me. I was sent by Robert. I rarely use my powers, but he said your guys needed my help. So, I came as fast as I could. And it looked like I arrived just in time before the guy–”
“Wait,” Visi narrowed her eyes, cutting your words as suspicion rose. “Robert called you? You were the back up?”
You nodded, playing with the long sleeves on your wrists. “Yes, I was. I would've gotten there on time, but I helped the nearest ones first. Sorry if I was a little late.”
That meant one thing…
You were the light she saw.
You saved her.
Visi could only sit in silence, processing the news in her head. Now, it made sense. You healed them from time to time, but you never really showed your power before. At least, not to them. But why just now? What did Robert tell you to make you use them? Did the others see it too?
After a while, she finally broke out of her trance and fixed you a hard look. “Show me.”
You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “Sorry?”
Visi leaned forward, clutching the covers against her lap. “Show me who you are. Show me Angel.”
For a moment, you two didn't move. Just staring at each other in anticipation. Then, you released a small sigh in resignation.
“Okay,” You stepped back again, and Visi tracked your movements. “Just… promise me not to freak out?”
You closed your eyes, manifesting the light from within you. Heat licked its way from your feet, feeling your body slowly suspend into the air. And suddenly, white light covered your boots. Up to your legs, your arms, and your head. Until large ivory wings sprouted from your back, fluttering behind you, as your whole body was engulfed in a luminous glow.
Then, there was that sound again.
A ringing tune echoing in the room, bouncing off the walls like an ocean’s call.
Or an angel’s hymn.
Visi's jaw dropped, eyes squinting then widening after your transformation was done.
So it was fucking real.
During those two days of unconsciousness, she kept dreaming about the angel who saved her. The silhouette made out of light. It was you. You were the angel before her death, and you pulled her out of the void just before Death’s fingers could claim her. Also, did you mysteriously look taller like that? Maybe it's just her concussion or imagination, but she definitely swore you looked taller.
Soundlessly, your wings flapped behind you and brought you closer to her bed.
The light covering your body was pulsing, but never dimming. And your eyes were pure white. Just an expanse of light staring down at her, as if you were bearing judgement on her sins. But you never looked away, and neither did she.
“Holy shit,” Visi could barely stop her words, and you produced another lilting hum. “You really are an angel.”
You didn't answer her with words, maybe you couldn't, and all she received was a high whistle.
Clearing her throat, Visi smiled up at you. “Did Mal have a heart attack when she saw you?”
Again, no answer.
Instead, your hand slowly raised, reaching forward until Visi could feel the warm heat extending from your fingertips. She didn't breathe, just stared in awe, waiting for your next move. Then, you pressed them on her forehead, and it was the lightest touch she ever felt from someone else—and immediately, the faint throbbing at the back of her head faded into nothing.
Her whole body relaxed. Her shoulders slumped down, her lungs opened to release a long exhale, and her fists unclenched from gripping the covers.
For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel any pain. Not from her lungs. Not from her head.
Nothing.
Just peace.
Then, as soon as the warmth filled her, it was gone the next second.
For a few seconds, Visi just sat there—content and lax—before her lashes fluttered open.
And you were back to yourself.
Standing there with your hand still outstretched, wearing that adorably tiny smile.
When you opened your eyes, you were about to retract your hand when Visi grasped your wrist, pulling you by the back of your head.
And smashed her lips against yours.
You squealed at the sudden force, but you couldn't pull away from the kiss because Visi was pulling you on to her lap until you were straddling her down on the infirmary bed.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
Visi was kissing you.
And you were kissing her.
Your first kiss was with Visi.
The hand on your wrist left, pulling you closer by your waist, but the one around your neck never did. You didn't know what to do. Your mind was reeling from the unexpected action. Your body trembled against her, not used to the unfamiliar heat burning through your system.
You felt dizzy, but in a good way? Like your mind was swarmed with ecstasy, and you didn't know what to do with it. You were overwhelmed with the urge to pull her closer, but instead your hands shakily rested on her shoulders. All you could focus on was her lips. Surprisingly soft, and she smelled so good too. Sweet like a pastry, yet smoky like the cigarettes she always had in her pockets. A dangerous combination to have. But all you knew was you wanted more of it.
However, before you could kiss her back, Visi withdrew.
She peered down at your parted lips, before she smirked at you.
“Nervous?” Her voice dropped, and you only blinked dazedly. “Don't be. Just follow my lead, okay?”
You nodded, cradling her neck and feeling the heat warm your cheeks. “Okay. I– I’ll try.”
She chuckled, brushing her nose against yours. “Cute.”
Then, she leaned forward again to claim your lips in another dizzying kiss—softer, sweeter.
This time, you relaxed and let her lead the kiss. Following her movements with a shy tilt of your head. When she opened her mouth, you felt her breath kiss your bottom lip and soon her tongue swept across. You didn't know what to do, but you took that as a sign to part your lips. It seemed like you were right, and it earned you a pleased hum from her.
Your mind was quickly turning into a warm mush, your skin felt too hot and cold at the same time. Too many sensations. Too many thoughts. All erased the moment her tongue slipped past your lips and met yours.
Tentatively, you copied her movement and tasted her tongue with a timid swipe.
Like a switch, you flipped something within her that caused her to moan. The sound made you shiver, whimpering into her mouth and wrapping your arms around her neck. She tugged you impossibly closer, an arm around your back, and a hand cradling your neck to deepen the kiss.
In a matter of seconds, the kiss turned from testing the waters to sinking deeper and deeper into the unknown depths.
You felt like you were drowning, the lack of oxygen made you dizzy with want. But your body felt like it was on fire, burning and aching to be closer. To have more. To press her down on the bed and taste the sins from her tongue.
Months of enduring her games. The unspoken tension between you, charged and electric, all released the moment she kissed you. The longing, the ache, and the hidden desires cloaked underneath the act of professionalism. It was all gone. Just like that, you were surrendering yourself to her.
And suddenly, you were overwhelmed with something else. Devotion. You could be her salvation, you could save her from whatever damnation she was eternally cursed with. You could forgive her over and over again. You'd love her despite her flaws, her imperfections, and her cruel games. You'd worship the ground she walked on, just as long as she became yours and you would be hers.
You hugged her tighter, finding enough courage to match her pace. The kiss quickly turned ravenous, and she breathed you in like you were the smoke she constantly sought. She devoured your moans with a fervent need, grasping you tighter and panting heavily in between kisses.
You could barely do anything but accept her hunger, whimpering and sighing softly.
When she pulled away to trail her lips down your neck, you were convinced she left smoke in your lungs—suffocating you under her mercy.
“Knew you'd be so sweet,” She murmured against your check. “You know how long I've been wanting to do this?”
You furrowed your brows, gasping at a sharp nip at your pulse. “Yo–You wanted to do this?”
“Since I first talked to you.”
“But I– I thought you liked Robert?”
“Fuck no, he reminds me of my dad.”
“Then, why–”
She sucked on your skin, and you saw stars behind your eyelids. “Wanted to find a way to make you jealous. Did it work?”
Jealous?
You pushed her back, pouting angrily. “You were trying to– Why would you do that?”
She only gave you a wry smirk, mischief glinting in her dark eyes. “So I could see your reaction. Plus, Blazer's all over him. I wanted you the whole time.”
Huffing, you crossed your arms and looked to the side. “That’s so mean! You’re so mean. I thought you had a thing for–”
Fingers were under your chin, and in the next second, your words were cut off by another unexpected kiss.
As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn't help but melt and kiss her back.
She smiled against your lips, tilting her head to kiss you deeper.
So all this time, she just wanted to make you jealous? That's just mean for so many reasons! First, she played with your head with her stupid games. Second, she kept leading you on and making you believe she was genuinely interested in you. And third, she completely ignored your existence just to make you jealous by latching on another person?
Mean. Mean. Mean.
You didn't realize you stopped kissing her, muttering the word while lightly hitting your fists on her chest.
Visi just rolled her eyes, grabbing both of your wrists and placing another lingering kiss on your lips.
“Forgive me, Angel?”
You pouted again, glaring at her, but you can't help the way your heart fluttered at her voice. At the way she gazed at you like you were her next meal, and she was dying to get another taste.
Crossing your arms, you looked away from her.
“Why should I forgive you?”
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the stretch of a smirk on her mouth. Then, you felt a warm breath ghosting the shell of your ear. And you shivered at the feeling of her lips grazing your ear like temptation.
Her next words were so sinful, it almost made you repent on the spot.
“So you could see me on my knees,” Your cheeks burned at the thought, feeling her hands slip beneath your skirt. “Spreading yours. Then, I'd beg for forgiveness between your thighs.”
