This Is Gonna Look Random But It's Really Important

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Boba: What's something that your character keeps hidden? Does anyone know about it?

Fear. Fear of love specifically, fear of loving someone, fear of being loved by someone she doesn't love back, fear of never loving anyone, fear of loving someone who doesn't love her back. She hides just about everything that goes on in her head behind a mask of ego. And she's good at it too, so it takes a good while for just one person to figure it out and it's the person she fell in love with.

I don't wanna reveal the character because I like to build these things up in the writing itself but it is one of my recent characters :)

I'm giggling and kicking my feet rn what the hell

Shai! Shai! I've thought of another scenario for Leon😊 Altho being a new fan I've come to the conclusion that Leon is the type to believe he's not good enough for his partner, he believes they could do better then him. So imagine a Leon who has finally accepted he has feelings for you and works up the courage to confess only for you to turn the tables on him and say you dont feel good enough for him. I imagine he would be in disbelief? How would he react to his crush telling him "You're too good for me Leon."?

too good for me | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x reader (unspecified gender) genre: fluff, miscommunication, the "endeared badass x normal person scared shitless of the endeared badass" trope. no spice, unfortunately. only good vibes and leon being head over heels smitten. enjoy! word count: 2.7K? It's short! notes: hi sarah! i am SO SORRY this has taken forever. you requested this one month ago! its been so hectic lately, i've been having health problems that required regular hospital visits and tests upon tests, but now that my surgery (yeah i know... yikes) is authorized i'm only waiting for them to call me for the date and have all the time in the world to get my rest and write. i'm also working on your other (wink wink) request! thank you so much for being patient with me. hope this is what you had in mind! i also added my touch and ideas to it lmao. happy reading!!

🌀 read on ao3!

“You’re too good for me,” is the hesitant, small answer you give him while avoiding eye contact and playing with your fingers in front of your office’s shared coffee maker Leon had made countless paperwork excuses to be able to simply stop by — to his question, that is, about why you wouldn’t go on a simple date with him. 

You puff out an awkward laugh to smooth things over as humorous but it’s forced and not at all sincere. 

It’s taken Leon a whole inner journey (Spain. Mostly the simultaneous trauma and catharsis of Spain) to get over himself to recognize what his heart truly wanted but was too pussy to look at before, yet here you two are. The lone angel in his life telling the failure Leon is that he’s too good? For you?

He simply stares, dumbly standing there, piping hot coffee that’s actually incompatible with his taste buds he insists he must do a detour to get from here simply because you often do, stiff and awkward in his hold, thinking he heard you wrong because he hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest — rest, not sleep — in forever since he came back from Spain. 

He’s been forcing himself to come to work just for a glimpse of you and your pretty face to recharge his battery, heal his soul a bit, let you be all that occupies his mind despite being laid off after that outrageous mission that resulted in the president’s unwanted favor and nightmares upon nightmares with only anxious yet soothing thoughts of you as the best bad out of the worst he’s had to face— and what is it that you said again?  

“You’re joking right?” Leon says, pride not knowing if it should be broken or not because he’s not sure to take this as a rejection, and it isn’t his intention for it to sound that harsh. He’s not some asshole who can’t take no for an answer, it’s your reasoning that has him downright jamming like a gun.

Leon has to remind himself to switch off work mode because now you look mousey as if he has a paw on your tail, shoulders pulled into yourself.  “Sorry!” He feels so bad, heart expanding within his ribcage and it aches, fuck, he just wanted to ask you out and all he’s doing is scaring you. “I’m sorry, you were kidding. I didn’t get it— I’m kinda slow and you sound flat sometimes, of course you weren’t serious, I’m—”

“No, I was serious.” His eyebrows furrow at yet another self-degradation from you. “It’s you who has to be kidding. What do you mean too good for you?”

You are at a loss of words, mouth opening but nothing coming out, and finally look him in the eye and all Leon wants to do is lean down and capture your mouth, he’s heavily distracted by you licking your lips and swallowing, the sighting of the tip of your pink tongue makes his shirt suddenly suffocating and tight. 

“I mean,” you begin tentatively, unaware of what’s going on in his head, vaguely gesturing to Leon. “Well… You’re you, I mean… And I’m. Me. Look at you and look at me. Why would you even…?”

“Hey,” Leon sets his mug on the counter, closing his eyes and pinching the insides with his thumb and pointer. The implications alone sent a zapping headache through his skull that he knows he has to rest to be able to unpack, especially when he’s finally decided on seriously pursuing you in spite of himself. Leon can’t let this remain unaddressed, for your sake and his sanity. “How about I wait for you after work today and we talk about this somewhere else?” He’s squinting. “In detail.”

“We don’t really need to—”

“We do.” Leon wants you to see he’s serious about this — about you. “Because I see something here that I want to pursue and we can’t have any misunderstandings. Would appreciate it if you at least give me the chance to clear the air.”

“P-pursue?” You swallow and Leon’s mind wanders again. “Clear the air you say…”

He breathes in. “Can you give me your phone?”

You slap it into his palm almost immediately, the speed with which you obey him without asking him any questions surprises him. He wants to scold if you’re willing to hand over your mobile to any guy who asks, but supposes it’s not his place — is frustrated this is what it takes to get him annoyed, as well. He isn’t some young adult. Weirdly, you make him feel like one.  

He’s punching his own number in, despite the conflicting feelings, finally feeling like this is getting somewhere and he’s doing it when you start talking again, nervous. “You can uh, clear the air… right here… without taking me to a secondary location…” 

His eyes flick up to yours in confusion and you look to the right immediately, and back to him. To the right. Back to him. It’s somehow comedic, because why do you look like you’re cornered by some bad guy? 

You really look like you want to be anywhere else than here, Leon’s fucking this up and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. Was he going too fast? Should he have told you his number and let you save it instead? 

You’re mumbling, nervousness clear as day for reasons he can’t fathom, he hears you, but he doesn’t really understand. 

“What? What's wrong?" Leon asks, his voice laced with genuine concern. He takes a step closer, wanting to bridge the gap between you and alleviate whatever discomfort you were experiencing. "You seem... uneasy. Did I do something wrong?"

Your eyes meet his briefly, then quickly shift away again, as if you are struggling to find the right words. 

Leon's heart sinks. His intention wasn’t to make you feel nervous or pressured, especially when he is genuinely trying to connect with you — then, in a brilliant moment of heart-stopping realization, the fact that you might just not be interested slaps him in the face and he’s…

Well. Wouldn’t that be the reality? 

Leon is… He isn’t exactly the ideal man. Not with what he does, and how his life is. He’s aware of that. Have been running from forming connections because of what he knows will end up happening because of that. He can’t get attached and keep losing people — can’t keep getting hurt in the vicious cycle to prevent everyone from getting hurt. It’s been the bane of his existence ever since STRATCOM plucked him off straight from Raccoon City. Even if you work in the same field as him, just different offices, who is to say it will work out anyway? 

He’s getting ahead of himself. You might not like him at all in the first place. Jesus. 

Maybe you see him for what he is. Maybe you think he’s not  —- the effort’s not worth it, and you wouldn’t exactly be wrong in thinking so. You could be wanting something else in life that he only has the desire to give you, and not the promise. He wouldn’t blame you, hell, who would blame someone for being their own person with their thoughts, wishes, wants and goals in life? 

You’re too good for me, really, is his line. It has been right from the beginning, his excuse in running away from his undeniable, frightening attraction to you.

"No, it's not you," you finally managed to articulate, prompting Leon to release the breath he was holding, your voice shaky, playing with your fingers. "I just... I feel a bit overwhelmed. This is all happening so fast, and I never expected..."

Leon nods, his expression softening as he realizes the weight of the situation. He hasn’t fully considered how his sudden confession and determination to pursue you might have caught you off guard. He has been so focused on his own feelings that he hasn’t taken into account your own thoughts and emotions.

"I understand," he replies, voice gentle and reassuring. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just... I couldn't keep my feelings to myself anymore. But please know that I don't expect an immediate answer or any commitment from you. I just… Well. I just wanted to tell you. See where this goes. Or, maybe, if that’s not the case… Get rejected for good so I can move on, you know?"

You laugh a little and it’s genuine — you have no idea how it turns Leon’s heart into putty right where it hangs between two lungs. “Do you really mean all of that?”

“Of course,” he says, offended the tiniest bit. “Why do you think I would joke about something like this?”

“It’s not about you joking, really…” You’re uncomfortable again, hesitating to tell him something. 

“Hey, you can tell me.”

“Can you promise you won’t get mad?”

“What am I, your father?” He snorts. “Come on, tell me.” 

You brace yourself for it and he doesn’t understand why until you say it. “You, um… You’re kinda scary.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Sorry!” You raise your hands up in panic. “I don’t really mean it like that, not to insult you or anything, it’s actually admirable, I’m just saying! Discipline, work ethic, unmatched field performance! You’re very… Very, uh… Intimidating, yeah, that’s the word…? I mean, like… You, uh, you’re famous, you know, we all know your work, you’re very hard working, working hard, very hard work — uh, um… So it’s…”

“I scare you?” Leon swears he felt his eyes get bigger the faster you kept on vomiting words. “You think I would hurt you?” 

“No!” You reject strongly, waving a nervous hand at him. Silence befalls later, which you follow awkwardly with a silent, guilty. “Maybe,” after clearing your throat. 

 He had always strived to be a protector, but he hadn't realized that his image and reputation — what it had become after Spain — could have such an effect on someone he cares about. 

"I never meant to scare you," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine remorse, he puts the coffee mug on the counter and leans his hip on it, shoulders sagging a bit as he crosses his arms. The thought of you only feeling intimidation about him leaves a bitter taste worse than the coffee does. "I guess... I've always been so focused on work, on the dangers just around the corner — I’m aware how it might affect my relationships in the long run so I never attempted to form any at all, but I never realized how it might affect how people see me in the first place. I never wanted to make you, of all people, feel this way. I could never hurt you. Never."

“I didn’t want to imply you’re a guy who’d intentionally hurt someone—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, ruffling his hair to get rid of the awkwardness. “So I’ve just been bugging you this whole time, huh? Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, don’t say that, you’re amazing! You’re like a hero around here…”

“Around here doesn’t mean shit,” he replies curtly, and regrets cursing like that in front of you immediately. It’s unbecoming of him — and doesn’t help his image in your eyes at all. He’s getting frustrated. His tone lowers into a softer, more disappointed, heartfelt one. “I only care about how you think of me.” 

“Well, you’re amazing,” you say again, bashfully this time, and it prompts him to look at you. There’s something shy about you now that has him standing taller in anticipation, wondering if it’s him reading this wrong or not. “It’s pretty well-known if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know,” he prods, idiot heart fluttering at the way you’re flustered. “What do you think? Besides intimidating, I mean. Not reporting on the local gossip this time, if you don’t mind.”

“You seem like a nice guy,” you settle. The middle ground. “I’ve seen you with the president’s daughter.”

Leon's expression softens at your words, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the tension that had built up within him. The mention brings a slight smile to his face, memories of Ashley flooding his mind, a fondness evident in his eyes. "Ah, Ashley. Yeah, that was quite the adventure. Though what can you be other than a nice guy when your mission is the president’s daughter?"

“I know a couple people who’d treat her like a package to be delivered. You prioritized her wellbeing more than anything.”

“What else was I supposed to prioritize?”

“You know what I mean. Emotional wellbeing. I’ve read your initial report and her statement. You cared about her.” A smile tugs at your lips, he can tell you’re a bit more comfortable now. "Especially during what you’ve been through. It's impressive how you handle yourself in those situations."

He shrugs modestly, a hint of pride shining in his eyes. You respect him. "I guess you could say it comes with the job. But it's not all action and danger, you know. There's more to me than just being a government agent."

Your curiosity piques, and you tilt your head, prompting him to continue. "Tell me more. What's Leon Kennedy like outside of work and missions?"

It catches him off guard that you want to know more and take the first step. You could have just rejected him. His heart picks up, chest expanding in excitement, he’s glad for the opportunity to share a glimpse of his life beyond the chaos of his work — he’s normally not eager to share pieces of his life like this, but… He’d give it to you on a silver platter, whether it'd lure you in or not. That’s how Leon knows he wants this with you so bad. “I wanna lie to woo you but… Would it be too unattractive to tell I really don’t have a life outside of work? I’m still trying to find some balance in my life. The upper echelon guys are pretty ruthless and demanding. I guess it means I can say I’m into traveling?”

“Is this the cool guy way of saying you’re an introvert these days?”

The unexpectedness of it is what gets him to throw his head back to laugh, and he catches you staring, scrambling to rub his face to get rid of it and regain some composure. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Pretty much.”

“Well,” you gesture at him, there’s a vague pink hue dusting your cheeks. “What are you into, then?”

God, he can’t stop, “Other than you?” from escaping his dumb mouth. He shouldn’t have said it. It’s too corny. So uncalled for. Your mouth hangs open and he wishes he could rewind the tape to take it back and choose some other option. “Say… What about we continue this discussion after work? I know a good coffee place. Let me make it up to you for invading your lunch time. I’ll tell you all about me, what do you say?”

You look at the clock on the wall, he knows you didn’t get to have anything because he decided to turn up and serenade you with unwanted attention, it’s two birds with one stone for him if you decide to accept — he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t see a perfect moment to seize the chance. 

“Coffee sounds perfect,” you nod, with no pressure from him, and it lifts a great weight off his shoulders. “Would it be okay if I eat something too?”

Why are you so adorable? You don’t know that you own the power to get Leon to have your superiors let you go for the day, but he can’t get too excited right now. “Say the word and it becomes a dinner date.”

It gets you flustered again, you don’t know where to put your hands, and he’s so happy about it. “It’s a weekday… That’d be a bit exhausting…”

“Okay. Coffee date it is.”

He’s noticing you like the cheeky confidence, and it makes sense, considering the intensity had you intimidated. “Thank you,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“Believe me,” Leon can’t stop the grin from overtaking his expression. “My pleasure. You’re honestly too good for me.”

There’s the sudden urge to kiss you when vulnerability and shyness lights up your whole face, but he’ll take it slow. He has to take it slow. For himself. 

An attempt was made

Was rewatching The Grand Budapest Hotel and I haven't been able to stop myself from quoting this line all day. This film is just too iconic. Also everytime Dmitri is on screen, I have the time of my life

Just found out Alucard from Hellsing has the same dub va as Kirei Kotomine from the Fate series.

ALUCARD SHARES A VA WITH A (probably Catholic) PRIEST

Words Unspoken - gerard keay

Gerry isn't used to the Archives being quiet. Good thing he's got you, then.

masterlist

a/n: back from hiatus w a podcast fanfic out of nowhere. yippee enjoy

Gerard isn’t used to quiet.

He doesn’t usually get a lot of it. Not since he started working at the Institute. Certainly not since his mother started plaguing him, even before the books took her skin and soul. He’s been a Keay for longer than he’s been conscious. He doesn’t think he’s truly been at peace since he first opened his eyes.

He takes what he can, of course, bits and pieces in between the forays out into the world to find the books, the fucking Leitners, and burn them. He’s always been calmest when he can watch the pages turn into ash, crumbling away on the wind. The words inked within are twisted, vile things, bringing only ruin to those unfortunate enough to read them, but Gerard almost feels jealous when he watches them go up in smoke. It would feel extraordinary to be light enough to coast away in open air, he thinks. The weight would be nothing then. Certainly not enough to crush him whole like it does every other day.

He hasn’t burned a book in a month, maybe that’s why he feels so uneasy. He runs his fingers over the holes in his ripped jeans for the nth time that day, dark fingernails accelerating the ruin of the threadbare hems. The eye tattoos on his knuckles appear and disappear as he bends his fingers, as if they’re blinking over and over again. Sometimes, Gerard tells himself this ill-gotten stalemate in between terrors is the reason he stays here, in the Magnus Institute, in this world of fears and statements and book-burning. He can barely handle quiet when he gets a few days of it. He’d probably go mad if peace and calm became his whole life.

The door swings open behind him, and Gerard has to fight not to flinch. He’s not quite sure he manages it. In between reminding himself how to breathe, Gerard has enough time to notice the identity of his visitor. His shoulders drop a little in relief when he recognizes the even footfalls of Y/N L/N, Gertrude’s latest hire. Y/N’s another archival assistant, primarily engaged in researching statement givers. Their paths don’t always cross, but when they do, Gerard finds himself happy for it. Y/N– Gerard can’t describe it, really, what they do to him. They make him feel normal, almost. Almost, until he remembers the eldritch all-seeing overlord they serve, or the myriad disasters they catalog every day, or any other detail of their insane lives.

Y/N smiles at him, taking a seat on a nearby chair. They’re holding two mugs of tea, one of which is slid across the table to a grateful Gerard, and a few file folders full of various notes.

“How’re you?” Y/N asks pleasantly. Most find the labyrinthine underbelly of the Archives too cold and austere for words, but it never seemed to bother Y/N. The Institute, much like everything else, just seems to make them that much better and brighter in Gerard’s eyes.

Gerard takes a sip of tea to avoid answering. “I’m alright,” he murmurs at last. “A little restless, but that’s nothing new.”

Y/N hums in agreement. Not for the first time, Gerard finds himself wondering why on earth someone like them would end up somewhere like here. He could find out, if he really wanted to, could look past the pretty face and encouraging smile to read the truth like another printed line from a cursed book, but for once, he doesn’t give in to the urge. He’d rather have Y/N tell him. He’d rather be the willing keeper of their secrets, not the thief.

Y/N catches his musing stare and Gerard coughs, embarrassed to be caught, and points his chin towards the stack of file folders in their hand. “What’ve you got there? More statements?”

Y/N nods. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about them. There’s somebody, a banker out near Bradford, who’s been having weird encounters with one of his neighbours. I don’t think the banker has read a Leitner directly, but I wanted to see if you thought his neighbour might be a victim of a book. He’s been describing weird, erratic behavior, odd patterns–”

Y/N flips open one of the manilla folders and slides it across the table. Gerard leans over to take a look, his tattooed fingers tracing the lines where they point. For a few carefully held breaths, their two hands brush, and Gerard has to fight the urge to wrap his fingers around theirs and never let go. It’s a right pain to make himself focus on the statement again, especially when there’s someone vastly more interesting right next to him, but Y/N is diligently focused and so Gerard reluctantly follows suit, peering at the description of the banker’s worries.

He tilts his head to the side, considering the statement. “Yeah, might be. He says his neighbour was doing, like, weird rituals, right? Could be the People’s Church of the Divine Host, but given how closely it all seems to relate to, uh, meat, it’s probably Flesh-adjacent.”

Y/N snorts. “Flesh-adjacent?”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Fine, you come up with a better way to say he’s been reanimating random corpses or bits of corpses without seeming silly. I’m just trying to help.”

He’s grinning, though, and Y/N laughs too. He likes it when they laugh. It makes him feel better about himself. Can’t be that fucked up as a person if you can make someone like that smile.

“Alright,” they say, still humored, “Flesh-adjacent it is. So you’re thinking all this stuff was started by a book?”

Gerard lifts a shoulder. “Might be. The neighbour guy’s probably learning some spells from a Leitner, thinking he’s the next big thing in witchcraft, when in reality the book is just draining his measly little soul to do it. I’ll go take a look around in a few days, see if I can track down the thing.”

Y/N’s face falls. “No, I can’t ask you to do that. It might be dangerous!”

“No, it’s quite alright,” Gerard says. “Like I said, I’ve been getting restless. It’ll be good for me to get out and do something.”

Y/N arches a dubious brow. “It’ll be good for you to track down someone reanimating corpses using evil spells from a murderous book?”

“Are you worried about me? That’s sweet of you,” Gerard teases, noting with a thrill of delight up his spine how Y/N’s face heats up when he leans ever closer to them. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Plus, I’ll run it by Gertrude first. Downright cautious. How’s that sound to you?”

Y/N flips closed the file folder, smoothing down any errant paper corners with a deliberate movement of their hand. “I guess. I just didn’t want you to think that I only came down here to send you on another death mission.”

“Of course not, I know you love my company,” Gerard grins.

“I do,” Y/N insists, their eyes rising to insistently meet Gerard’s gaze, like it was incredibly important that he know how they felt. Like it might even matter as much to Y/N as it does to Gerard. Like for once, they feel the exact same way, and it’s– it’s–

Up one floor, a door closes a little too loudly, the reverberation of the slam echoing down to them. Y/N flinches away, and just like that, they’ve both lost their nerve. Y/N stands up quickly, gathering up the folders again and their tea. “I’ll see you around, then,” they whisper, and head out, stealing one last glance at Gerard when they think he doesn’t notice.

He does notice, though, and he does notice the plaintive sigh they let out once the door closes behind them. It’s alright. He’s got plenty more chances to say what they both want to hear.

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

Starting my 20th year with Ibuprofen

Wondering if I should post the 3 am writing piece that this is a part of 🤔

Life update:-

I went from writing this:

"He had a way with words."

To this:

"He always knew what to say and each word that left those perfectly shaped lips of his was like the mead of poetry for which she would be down to trickery just to get a taste of."