#I feel like I’m just wasting my efforts on people who don’t care

[pictureswithboxes]

Im actually quite upset right now.

[bubblegumbeyotch]

.

[fadedin2u]

pick up and roll the dice - ch. 2

read in between the lines, i know you love me…

summary: ellie takes you to a college party, you do her make up. based on the song hold on by the internet

content: college!au, childhood best friends!au, dealer!ellie, fem!reader, modern!au, ellie is a simp (not surprising), ur also a simp, art major!ellie, kinda slow burn??

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mention of reader vomiting, drug usage (alcohol, weed), lots of cursing (what do you expect), men (mentioned), expect nsfw chapters in the future so MDNI 18+

read chapter 1 here

“Hey, just FYI, a guy is gonna come over in about 15 to pick up,” Ellie warns you as she puts on some sweatpants on top of the boxers she was lounging in.

Ellie started dealing in high school, and it started purely by accident. She was always the one with bud, and originally only sold to close friends because they didn’t know where to get weed, but as college got more hectic (and tuition went up), Ellie started selling to people on campus. She sold actual bud mainly, but sometimes she’d sell shrooms if she ended up in possession of them.

You sit on your own twin bed, and look up from your phone, nodding. It wasn’t completely unusual for Ellie to have people pick up at the dorms, but more often she tried to avoid it in fear of getting caught by the R.A. and potentially getting expelled.

“Sounds good,” You say, going back to your phone.

Ellie stares at you for a moment, deliberating, “Hey, uh, there’s a party happening tonight that I’m probably gonna end up going to sell at, would you wanna come?”

Your face scrunches up, cautious, “Who’s throwing it?”

Ellie thinks for a minute, “I think it’s the lacrosse team, but don’t quote me on that.”

You groan, “Ughh… The lacrosse team? Seriously?”

Ellie sits on your bed, her hands clasped together, “Come onnnn, it won’t be fun without you there. Besides, we’ll go for an hour, get wasted and high, and come back here to play Mario Kart! It’ll be fun!”

You glare at Ellie, “You wouldn’t wanna go to this party either if it wasn’t for the business opportunity. The lacrosse guys are dicks.”

Ellie gives you a half-smile, “I know, that’s why I overcharge them.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, and you contemplate your options. You could either go out with Ellie and stay entertained, even if it is around insufferable people, or you could stay at home and play a video game for 7 hours straight.

“Okay, fine. But you owe me,” you say, folding your arms over your chest.

Ellie gives you a cheeky smile, “The pleasure of my company isn’t enough for you?”

You stare blankly back at her.

Ellie laughs, “Fine, Jesus, name your price.”

You think for a moment, not knowing what Ellie could give you besides weed.

Suddenly your face lights up, “You have to let me do your make up for tonight.”

Ellie’s nose scrunches up, “Dude, come on. I’m not a make up girl.”

You roll your eyes again, “I’m not gonna do it like mine, I’ll make it more androgynous, I promise. It’ll look so good.”

Ellie thinks about you thinking that she looks “so good”, and she sighs, “Fine. But none of that mascara shit. It feels weird on my eyes and I don’t like the way it looks.”

You laugh, “You have my word, no mascara.” You look over at the clock, seeing that it’s already about 8:30pm.

“We should probably get ready soon then, right?” You ask, and there’s a knock at the door.

Ellie nods as she walks towards the door, “Yeah, just let me finish this up.”

As Ellie takes care of business, you go over to your closet, thinking hard about what you can wear that looks good, but at the same time, doesn’t look like you put in that much effort to a college party.

You eventually pink a pair of your favorite pair of jeans, a tight, black cropped t-shirt, and some sneakers. You wait to start changing until Ellie’s customer leaves.

Ellie shuts the door, folding the wad of cash and slipping it into her wallet.

You start changing out of your shorts and hoodie into your outfit, and Ellie very pointedly does not look anywhere near you as you change. When you’re in your outfit, you look over it in the mirror.

“What are you gonna wear, Els?” You ask, fixing your hair.

Ellie stares at you in your outfit before looking down at her wife-beater and sweatpants combo. “Uh… This?”

You give Ellie a look, “Dude. This-“ you point to a stain near her neckline, “is from yesterday.”

Ellie scoffs, “Fuck you, I’m saving the environment by not washing my clothes every time I wear them.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, is that what you’re doing?”

You go over to Ellie’s closet. You pick a black graphic tee, your favorite of her short-sleeve button ups to wear over it, and a pair of her slouchy denim jeans.

“Voila.” You say, shoving the clothes into her chest as you walk over to your shared bathroom to do your own make up. She flushes, but nonetheless changes into the outfit you picked, the idea of you picking what you think looks best on her making her stomach fluttery and warm.

When Ellie is finished changing, she walks into the bathroom, watching you in the mirror as you do your make up. You apply a light layer of lipstick as she does, and you’re hyperaware of her gaze on your face.

You finish up, your make up accentuating your features perfectly. You blot your lips with some toilet paper, and nod.

“Okay, let’s do this-“ You say, hoping up onto the bathroom counter and rifling through your make up bag until you find a brown, pencil liner.

“C’mere,” You say, motioning for Ellie to come closer.

Ellie’s hands are sweating as she walks up to you, standing in between your legs. She’s not sure where to put her hands so she leaves them dangling at her sides.

You lean forward and put your hand on Ellie’s cheek to steady her face. “Your eyes might water, just so you’re prepared.”

Ellie scoffs, “Please. A little eyeliner isn’t gonna kill me.”

You start lining her waterline, and her eye immediately tears up, “Fuck.”

You giggle, continuing to outline her green eyes. When you’re done, you put the pencil away.

“Okay, now the trick for this is to close your eyes and rub them a bit. Can you do that for me?” You ask as you rummage through your bag again to pull out some eyebrow gel.

Ellie chuckles a little, following your instructions, “I thought the point was to not touch your eyes when you have eyeliner on so you don’t fuck it up.”

You nod, “Yeah, usually, but I’m doing more of a diffused, messy look on you. It’ll look best with your whole… Vibe, I guess, if your make up is less structured and more messy.”

Ellie stops rubbing her eyes, and the green in her eyes pops brilliantly against the brown liner. You smile, pleased with yourself.

“Okay, that was the worst of it,” You say, brushing through Ellie’s eyebrows with the gel.

Ellie nods, focused on your face as you do her make up, and it makes you feel excessively vulnerable, but you don’t call attention to it, assuming it’s you who’s being weird for thinking into it.

You take a blush stick and apply a little to her freckled cheeks, and lightly dab the rest on her lips with your finger.

Finally, you apply a top layer of chapstick to her lips.

“Okay, finished,” You say, admiring your work.

Ellie nods, still in-between your legs, looking at you. “Thanks.”

You giggle, and it sounds more nervous than you intended. “Wanna check yourself out in the mirror?”

Ellie is knocked out of her stupor, and moves out from between your legs to look in the mirror. The liner makes her eyes pop, and the rest of the make up is simple and light, accentuating her features while adding a little something extra.

Ellie’s face spreads into a grin, “Dude, this is so much better than I expected.”

You kick her before jumping off the counter.

She yelps, “Hey! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, I just never really saw how I could wear make up in a way that makes me feel comfortable, and this looks great.”

You fix yourself in the mirror one last time, “Damn right it looks great. I did it.”

Ellie laughs, her smile bright. She gives you a once over, “You ready to go?”

—-

The house that’s hosting the party is only a few blocks away from your dorm building, so you and Ellie walk there together as you share a blunt.

By the time you two arrive at the party, you’re both fairly stoned. Ellie opens the door for you, and you two barely get three steps inside before you hear a “Ellie! Y/n!”

You both turn to see a clearly inebriated Jesse rushing towards you, a goofy smile on his face.

He gives you both a bear hug at the same time, and you laugh as Ellie says, “I’m guessing you already found the booze, Jess?”

Jesse laughs boisterously, shrugging, “Hey, you guys need to catch up, get on my level.”

Ellie looks over at you, eyebrow raised, “Wanna take a shot?”

You make a face, “Not really, but I’m gonna take one anyways.”

Ellie laughs at that, and the three of you migrate to the kitchen. Ellie takes a bottle of whiskey out of her backpack that’s carrying everything she has to sell tonight. She pours three shots with some miscellaneous, most likely used, shot glasses on the counter. As she does, you ask Jesse, “Is Dina gonna be here tonight?”

Jesse makes a face, and you think ‘Shit, sore subject right now, huh?’

Jesse says, “Dina and I had a fight last night, so… I don’t know if she’s gonna be here.”

Ellie makes a low whistle, but she knows her friends, and this on and off again thing between Jesse and Dina has been going on since you all were in high school together. They’ll likely be right as rain by the end of the week.

You take a shot from Ellie and pass the other to Jesse, “Then we’ll have a blast with the three of us, right?”

Jesse grins, “Fuck yeah, we will.”

——-

Famous last words.

About 2 hours later, you were sitting alone on a musty couch, your head dizzy from the several drinks you’ve already had. You nurse another one as you watch Ellie dealing to some brunette girl. Jesse left you to hang out with some guy friends, so you’re left to watch this girl flirt with Ellie, clearly putting the moves on her. Your stomach twists a little as you see Ellie laugh at something she said, her eyes crinkling.

When the girl rests her arm on Ellie’s bicep and Ellie doesn’t resist it, you stand up, going to get some fresh air.

You weave through the packed house, stumbling slightly as you turn a corner. ‘Fuck. I must be more drunk than I thought.’

You go outside, walking out onto the front porch. There are a few people smoking outside, and you try to move past them, but a man puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, y/n, right?” He asks, tilting his head. It’s dark out, but you finally recognize his face from a generals math class you took freshman year.

“Hey, Matt, how’ve you been?” You ask, cursing yourself for playing into it. You barely knew the guy, and you were really not in the mood to entertain someone’s conversation.

Matt grins, and he leans in closer to you, pulling you over to the porch railing by him, “I’ve been better without Professor Bynum on my ass about stats. How’ve you been?”

Your nose scrunches up instinctually at him pulling you over.

“I’ve been alright, pretty busy, I actually just came out here to get some air and, well- I guess I got it, so I should probably get back inside.” You say awkwardly, back away.

Matt says, “Wait! Before you leave… You should know that I had a *huge* crush on you during that class.”

‘Great. Jesus Christ,’ you think.

“That’s- Um, that’s sweet.” You say, and you couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if you tried.

Matt’s inebriated brain doesn’t seem to care about that though, “Do you think I could take you out sometime?”

You wince, “Oh, Matt, I’m sorry, I-“

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you jump, turning back just to see Ellie. She looks a little hurt, “I thought you were gonna wait on the couch for me?”

You give Ellie an apologetic, tense smile, starting to feel a little nauseated, “Sorry, I just needed to get some air.”

You turn back to Matt, and maybe if you were less drunk, you would’ve had more tact, but all that comes out of your mouth is, “And I’m sorry, Matt, but no.”

Matt’s eyebrows furrow, “Damn, okay. Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

You pause, wondering if you should lie to get out of the awkward situation, but before you do, Ellie says, “Why, does she need a boyfriend to not want to go out with you?”

‘Jesus, Ellie.’ You think, your stomach churning more and more.

Matt’s jaw drops, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is your problem?”

Ellie’s eyes narrow, “Nothing, I’m just explaining how to take rejection, dipshit.”

Matt looks like he’s about to say something to retaliate, but before he does, you turn away from them and vomit over the porch railing into the shrubs.

Whatever was about to be said gets lost, and you feel one hand bracing your back as another gathers the hair out of your face, and you hear Ellie’s voice by your ear, “Shit, you alright?”

You try to nod but you end up heaving more, emptying the contents of your stomach. Ellie’s hand smoothes over your back in a way that she hopes is comforting as she holds your hair away from your face.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay. I’m gonna take you home, alright?” Ellie asks as you stand back upright, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay,” you say, too nauseous to resist and too done with this party to want to.

Ellie seems considerably more sober than you as she wraps one arm around your waist, walking you back to the dorms. You’re about to tell Ellie that you’re fine to walk on your own, that you’re not that drunk, but you can’t help but want to take advantage of the situation, leaning into Ellie.

“I’m sorry for making you leave early,” you say, and she squeezes your waist.

“You’re just fine, babe, don’t worry. I wanted to leave that boring ass party anyways.” Ellie responds, shrugging.

The two of you keep walking. “What about that girl you were talking to? She was really pretty:”

Ellie brows furrow, “The brunette? She was nice, I guess.”

You shake your head as you laugh, “Ellie, you are so dense, she was totally into you.”

Ellie shrugs again, “I know.”

Your brows furrow this time, “And… You weren’t interested?”

Ellie shrugs, “She was alright, just… Yeah. Wasn’t interested.”

Ellie leads you up to your dorm room, and when you step inside, you immediately face plant onto your bed.

“Home sweet home,” you say into the duvet, your voice muffled.

Ellie chuckles at that, grabbing a glass of water that was by your bedside and bringing it to you. “Okay, doll. Can you drink this?”

You sit up on the bed, and sip the water as Ellie goes to fetch ibuprofen, a bucket (just in case you still feel sick later), and a warm washcloth because she knows you like to clean your face at the very least before bed.

She sets everything up for you as you wipe off your face, watching her with a lovesick ache in your stomach.

When you’re finished, she takes the washcloth and chucks it into the dirty laundry hamper. She also passes you one of her (clean) cheesy, graphic tees.

“For you to sleep in.” She says casually.

You laugh, “My closet is right there, Els.”

Ellie’s cheeks go a little pink and she tries to take the shirt back, “Well, if you don’t want it-“

You snatch it back from her, “I want it.”

She laughs and puts her hands up in surrender before going to use the bathroom to clean up herself.

You strip off your dirty clothes except for your underwear and slip on Ellie’s t-shirt. You check to make sure the bathroom door is still closed before lifting the fabric up to your nose and sniffing it, smelling the familiar scent of Ellie’s laundry detergent.

You feel that same lovesick ache pang at your stomach again, and you crawl back into bed, your drunk brain too inebriated to handle that kind of intense emotion. You nestle under your covers, and thanks to the weed and alcohol in your bloodstream, you quickly pass out.

When Ellie comes out of the bathroom and finds you asleep in her clothes, she quickly goes to pull out her journal, sitting on her own twin bed across from yours and doing a quick, messy sketch of your sleeping face.

‘This is fucking weird behavior, Ellie, what the fuck?’ She thinks to herself as she finishes up and gets up to put her journal away.

On her way back to the bed, she pauses, looking at you for a moment before kissing your cheek softly.

“Goodnight.” She whispers, before crawling into her own bed, where she would lie awake for several more hours.

———

chapter 3 here!

texts w reader and ellie here

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Thank you so much for doing my angst request! It was so good!Can I request a new one? I’m in a mood for angst lately, but with smutty ending lol

Reader and Rhea have broke up a while ago, but Rhea is taking it harder than she thought she would. She hears that reader is going on dates (which is actually just to kill time and as an effort to move on, but Rhea doesn’t know that). She feels angry and jealous that she’s replaced so fast and confronts reader about it. During the argument things are getting heated and “somehow” they resolve the misunderstanding horizontally 😅

i’m so glad you liked it! I’m hoping it was the one with the prompt bc that one was fun to write. thank you for making another request!

after writing: it’s a bit more sad than angry bc i lowkey went thru this a while ago lmaooo so sorry bout that but i hope you like it hahahahahaoops and they’re not really horizontal but it’s still hot lmaoo

Over

rhea x fem reader

content: angst-ish with sad rhea, smutttttt, oral sexxxx, fingeringggg, hot buff goth woman kissing youuu ooooooo

It’s been two months since you and Rhea have broken up. The first month was hard on you but the second month you wanted to get your mind off of it so you decided to download all the dating apps you could think of. You’ve been on a few first dates and a few second dates but none have lived up to your expectations.

It has been really hard on the wrestler though. She claimed that she did it because she was getting so busy that she felt it wasn’t fair to you that she wasn’t able to be around as much as she wanted. So she decided to end things, unfortunately for her, she didn’t realize how much she relied on you to get away from all the buzz.

You haven’t spoken or texted Rhea for three weeks and it was hurting you, but she was the one to end things so why should I try? you thought. You and her had mutual friends that you would hang out with sometimes and they would try to tell you updates on her but you didn’t want to hear them.

“She really misses you,” they would say.

“Then she shouldn’t have left me,” said the anger stage of grief.

Part of you knew that the friends were telling her that you were going on dates and how you were doing but you didn’t care. You wanted to seem like the ‘bigger person’ and make it seem like you moved on.

One night, you had been chatting with a girl on one of the many dating apps and things were going suspiciously well so you set up a date for the next day, just to see. It was at a local coffee shop because you wanted it to be in public in case something went wrong.

You wore a long maroon, but sort of tight dress that showed off your curves just right, some light makeup, and your hair natural; you didn’t want to try too hard. The time came and you headed to the shop, ordered coffee and sat down at a small table in the corner.

People came and went and you were there for about twenty minutes, checking your phone and scrolling through social media. Because you were waiting for quite a while, you didn’t want to come off as someone who got stood up, so you decided to text her.

“You still coming?”

“Sorry, something came up, maybe another day?”

Of course. This wasn’t the first time this happened and it sure wouldn’t be the last.

“All good,” was the only thing you said. You didn’t like putting effort into something that wasn’t going to go anywhere. If they wasted your time, then they don’t care about you, your friend would say, but something seemed off.

You brushed it off, drank your coffee and enjoyed your time alone, it was nice. You rarely went out by yourself, so it was good for a change.

You finally finished your latte, so you head back home. To your surprise, there was a familiar black truck in your driveway.

“No fucking way,” you growl as you park the car. You sit for a few minutes contemplating going somewhere else in town, maybe a movie or something long enough to where she would leave on her own, but you decided against it. “If she wants to talk then let’s talk.”

You slammed the car door and stomped inside to her helping herself to a glass of water.

“Sorry to show up out of the blue,” the australian admitted.

“No you’re not,” you threw your keys down on the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“Obviously you have something to say that you couldn’t call or text about so…” you crossed your arms keeping your distance.

She was silent but you could tell she was trying not to go off.

“So?” you push.

“You’ve been going on dates,” she finally said.

“Yeah and? Why does it matter? You broke up with me,” the lump in your throat began to form, you were never good with confrontation but you swallowed it down.

“It’s only been two months!” she barked as she threw her hands up.

“People grieve differently!”

“You’re not grieving, you’re trying to get back at me.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to move on,” you glare.

“Moving on means seeing other people after two months?” She walked to the kitchen table and leaned on the back of one of the chairs, gripping it tightly.

“Yes, it does because I’m tired of throwing myself a pity party every night.”

“As if I haven’t done that?” she gestured to herself.

“You broke up with me,” you reiterate.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you!” She walked to the bar area of the kitchen counter.

You let the words hang in the air, you genuinely didn’t have a response to that.

“It’s like you didn’t even care to reach out,” she sighed under her breath.

“The phone works both ways,” you rebutted.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to!”

“Of course I did! I wanted to remain friends,” her cheeks were flush.

You try to calm your breathing and think hard about what you’re going to say because you didn’t want to get her feelings anymore than you did, apparently. “It’s hard to remain friends with someone you had fallen in love with and been with for a year.”

“As if I don’t know that?!” She crossed her arm and held her forehead with the other, “I had hope that we could work our way back.”

“Well…”

She took a long deep breath, before looking back up at you, “so you don’t want to try?”

“Literally when did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to say anything! I can tell with the way this is going that you don’t want to,” she was trying to calm herself down but you could tell she was struggling.

“No, no, no, back to the main question, why do you care that I’ve been seeing other people? We broke up!” you uncrossed your arms and got yourself some water too, your hands needed to do something.

“Because!” she huffed, “Because I still care for you and I don’t want you to get hurt,” she sighed once more, “and I miss you.”

You stop in your tracks and set the glass down gently before your impulse took over to throw it. You glare at her, “then why did you leave?”

“Because it wasn’t fair to you! We barely saw each other and when we did we would fight! I loved you too much to do that to you,” tears began to form in her eyes but she didn’t dare let them fall.

“I was perfectly fine letting you do what you love and was willing to work it out, you never talked to me about how you felt! You just up and left!” you threw back.

“Are you serious?! I had a flight that morning I had to leave, it was nothing to do with you.”

“You could’ve waited,” you growled.

“And make you feel more miserable?”

“I wasn’t!! That’s what I’m saying! I loved you, hell I still do, but that was bad the way you did it and you know it,” you pointed at her, hoping that she didn’t catch that one part.

“You what?”

Damn it, “you heard me.”

She sat at the bar and hung her head in her hands, sniffling.

“Rhea…” you start, and the lump in your throat was getting bigger, “I was distracting myself so that I could stop thinking about you. You consume my life, I think about you all the time,” a tear fell and you wiped it away before she could see. “I couldn’t do anything that first month, I was miserable, I had to do something.”

She lifted her head, her face was red and covered in tears. “I never stopped loving you,” she admitted.

“That makes two of us,” you said under your breath. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you again,” she wiped her nose with a paper towel.

You couldn’t think of anything to say. You sat there staring at her, thinking of everything you’ve ever done together and where it went wrong, but it never came up. “What do you want me to say?” you sigh.

“I don’t know,” she caught your eyes. Those icy blue perfect eyes staring back into you.

“Then what do you want from me?”

She sat for a minute racking her brain, trying to think of an answer that was different from what she wanted to say, but what’s the use, she thought and decided to shoot her shot anyway, “Another chance?”

You contemplate for a few short seconds, “You have to promise me-”

“I’ll do anything please, baby,” she didn’t mean to call you that, but you let it slide.

“You have to promise me that you’ll keep me informed on your schedule no matter what. We will make it work. Take me with you, I’ll pay for the extra bed, I’ll pay for the tickets, just…” you take a deep breath, “don’t give up again.” You didn’t think you would fold so quickly, but here you were.

“I promise, I’ll send it right now, the whole month. And when the next one comes I’ll send you that too,” as she took out her phone and sent it, “we can download a shared calendar app.”

“Thank you,” you took a sip of your water and set it back down. “Now are you going to admit that you were supposed to meet me at the coffee shop or what?”

“I had to get to you somehow,” she smiled nervously.

“You didn’t think that Leah Shipley wouldn’t raise an eyebrow?”

“Hey, what can you do?” she shrugged.

The two of you sat in silence for a good minute smiling at the thought of her trying to trick you.

“So are you going to kiss me or what?” you said a little too confidentally.

She basically ran around the counter and slammed her mouth against yours, holding your jaw. Your hands grabbed her waist and pulled her in tightly.

“God, I missed you,” she breathed.

“Shut up,” as you kiss her again.

She carefully walked you backwards towards the counter as your lips danced against hers. Your hands found themselves roaming her body naturally, like it was never gone.

She picked you up onto the counter, carefully moving things away. Her hips shoved their way in between your thighs pushing your dress up as she went, as you wrapped your legs around her, pulling her in as close as possible.

A hand found its way into your hair and yanked it to the side letting a whimper spill out of you. She kissed down your neck, biting delicately sending shockwaves down to your core. She kissed her way down your chest until she couldn���t find anymore bare skin. Suddenly, her arms pulled you forward to where you almost fell off the counter, yanking your dress farther up. She planted soft kisses on your inner thighs which made you crazy.

“Can I-” she whispered before you cut her off.

“Do it. I don’t care just fuck me, please baby,” you had missed her touch so badly. No one had ever made you feel the way she did, it was insane. She knew how to work you out just right.

With a devilish smirk she bit harder on your thighs spreading them as far as they would go. Your hand tangled itself in her hair as you used the other one to lean back. She grabbed at the waistband of your underwear and slid them off of you. A shiver hit your body as the cool air hit your hot center.

Her eyes widened at the sight of you basically dripping onto the counter, “Damn, baby, you missed me that much?”

“Shut up,” you said once more and shoved her head into you.

She immediately began lapping at your juices. You moan loudly with your head slamming on the cabinets behind you. A small “fuck,” fell from your lips followed by another moan. Her hand grazed up your thigh, lightly scratching its way up. It reached around to the small of your back and pushed you more forward into her. Riding her face, your hand gripped hair tighter. The hand sneaked its way back around and prodded at your entrance.

“Please, yes,” you whine.

And so she did, gently plunging her two fingers into you. “God,” you groan as your eyes rolled back.

She kissed the inside of your thighs before returning to your neck and kissing her way up to your lips. You grab her face, kissing her intensely, as she’s now pounding into you. Her other hand returns to your now swollen clit and adds to the knot growing inside of you.

“You missed me, baby?” she coos.

“So… fucking… bad,” you breathe.

“Then show me,” she growled.

Only a few seconds pass and you released all over her hand with a loud moan, squeezing your legs closed but was stopped by her hips blocking your way. Your back arching into the woman in front of you, “ffffffucccckk,” you whine as she kisses your neck. Your nails are digging into her shoulder blades as she continues to pump in and out of you letting you enjoy the high.

As you came down, catching your breath, you release your grip on her shoulders. Your head lolled forward leaning onto the wrestlers forehead for a few breaths before leaning back onto the cabinet. She gently pulled her fingers out of you and brought them to her mouth, cleaning them off.

“I forgot how good you taste, princess,” her accent was so thick you almost came undone again.

“It’s been too long,” you sigh.

“I guess we have some catching up to do, then huh?” she smirked. She picked you up with a giggle coming from both of you and began to carry you to your bedroom.

[sanzaibian]

Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs.

Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be.

I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing…

I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there…

And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something…

It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others !

- Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears.

- And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard…

- Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it.

- Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed.

- What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time !

… at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s-

Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin.

How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember…

However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving.

What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right…

Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus.

She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ...

I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me.

- Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow…

- Do you want to see the results ?

- Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich !

I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters.

As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up.

I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

[luckykiwiii101]

Hello,

I’ve been in this community for a while already, maybe since 2021 but I haven’t really been keeping count. My journey has mostly been a mixture of being desperate and uncommitted. There would be times where I would put in a lot of effort for 1-2 days but honestly would just burn myself out because I would let doubts rule me. So many times I’ve said I’m going to enter and log off tumblr to do it, but I kept logging back in and looking for more information or letting drama that’s always going on in this community affect me. For a whole month I actually managed to stay off void and loa tumblr by creating another account and strictly using that for fics I read. I didn’t really persist because I kept putting it off and I don’t even know why. I logged back on and realized I don’t find myself wanting to continue the same loop that I see a lot of people still chasing. Stepping back, I really see how useless and self sabotaging it is and I know most people are aware of this too but don’t want to break the habit by letting this desperation go.

There’s always going to be the feeling that you’re missing something or that there’s something better for you to try as a method if you keep holding on to the desperation. This loop is dangerous because it’s so easy to fall into and it gets comfortable. People get distracted by new things to try or by drama that’s always circulating. These things can seem exciting and curious but they really don’t matter. We’re not here to feed into tumblr drama, to learn all about it, find out who’s lying/telling the truth, to accuse others, etc. Most of us are going to be gone as soon as we enter void. Who cares about keeping up with the latest void methods and tumblr drama when you’re not even going to think back on it after you succeed. You already know everything you need to know. Don’t make this your “comfortable zone”. People get used to this familiarity of trying, wishing and hoping together, and following the latest news and trends that they get comfortable like this.

I don’t know how to word this but I’ve also seen people romanticize their struggles together. Community is so great and a place to relate to others, but lots of people make it a group effort to struggle. Reaching void state isn’t a group effort. You don’t need to ask others to manifest for you and you don’t need to wait for others to try something out to see if it works. You also don’t need validation from others and expect them to dissect what you did wrong. Someone else’s journey or attempts doesn’t correlate to yours so don’t let it decide yours (unless you know it helps you). You shouldn’t feel discouraged by someone else’s attempts because it’s not yours.

Community is so helpful, but individuality is the key. You need to do this for yourself and by yourself at the end of the day. I know it can be hard but really it’s all up to you and it’s so worth it. People can help you through advice and you can relate to people, but you need to be the one making the choices and putting in the effort to persist.

I saw someone on your page say they are going to log off and persist and (I think) come back with their success. They’re so right and I’m honestly going to do the same. I tried staying off void tumblr for a whole month and it wasn’t too hard. It allowed me to really reflect on myself, which I encourage people who can relate to this post, do. I read your tough love post about how some people will never get their dream life because of a lack of persistence/backbone and their mindset. This post really hit me because it represented my views on void tumblr and my previous struggle with the void state. I really don’t want to be this person anymore so I won’t be. I will succeed this time because there really is no other option. I’ve honestly had enough and I’ve already wasted enough time. These are just my thoughts and I encourage people to get off void/loa tumblr and just persist. You don’t need an epiphany to hit you to finally enter void state. But if you do, take the Not so Sugar and Spice post (I believe that’s what it’s called) as one.

Sorry for over sharing and the long post, but I really wanted to get this off my chest and I wanted to let people know that no matter how much you’ve struggled with the void and mindset in the past, kind of like me, you can still make the choice to persist and break habits that don’t benefit you.

I want to say thank you for your post for the inspiration and goodbye for now 💞

I’m SO SO proud of you 💗💗💗

And yes I too recommend that post to people who are mindlessly roaming void and loa tumblr looking for methods to enter the void state because that isn’t going to get them anywhere.

[luffyvace]

Aizawa crush headcanons

”aizawa crush headcanons, but like make him realize he’s in love with you at the end, so that like, he can do something about it or he can’t ignore it”

asked by a good friend of mine irl. she didn’t mention gender so i’m going with afab since i haven’t written for that yet ♡

(ps i’m not going to mention what type of person he would like unless you req that i want to keep this as neutral as possible)

aizawa having a crush on you means finding cats to take care of together

it means warm, comfortable, solidarity silence

he would still be himself around you for sure, he would want you to like him for who he is

changing himself is too much effort. if you don’t like him back he’ll have to move on whether it hurts or not

people still need teaching and saving after all and the world isn’t going to stop just for him

being a realist he’s aware of that

but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to clean up if you go out somewhere together (prior to dating, first impressions are everything)

he wouldn’t be afraid to tell you like it is if you ask for his opinion,

in his eyes sugarcoating things aren’t going to help you

but he wouldn’t necessarily be as harsh on you as he is on his students or mic

to woo you he wouldn’t really do anything above and beyond

he acknowledges that he likes you but he doesn’t want to waste time if his crush on you doesn’t blossom into something bigger

so instead of going all out he relies on things like little compliments, little favors and quality time

examples;

”you don’t look half bad today l/n”

”not too shabby, i guess” *combs hand through hair* (yeah that’s another thing, he’ll do little gestures to sway you but we’ll dabble into that more later)

”you smell fresh, that’s a nice aroma”

for little favors……

you: “ahh crap i left my keys in my car”

him: *magically knows a way to open locked out cars* you: *clearly having a rough day* him: *opens a window for you to vent* you: “awww man the last of ____ is sold out!”

him: “hmm..well, i’ll keep an eye out for when it’s back in stock” *the very next day* “oh yeah turns out i already had one i just forgot, here you can have it”

im not lying he actually did have one and forgot

as far as quality time:

inviting each other over for movie nights (he always falls alseep so you get most of the popcorn- 🎉 unless it’s his favorite movie- then he stays up eyes red and all, while sucking nothing out of an empty juicy box)

although movie night only happens when your closer friends though- he keeps his friend circle small because anyone could betray him and he doesn’t like people (he doesn’t hate them either he just stays to himself)

quality time for him can also be texting and checking up on each other

it doesn’t always have to be physical for him to feel appreciated

if YOU want to sway HIM though

get him a cat

self explanatory

but you can also listen to him when he talks, shoulder massages (only when your real close tho), give it to him straight.. definitely don’t be phony…and yeah!

pretty much be yourself

if he doesn’t fall for you himself there’s no way to convince him to

and if he falls for you it’s not for any facade you put on

its for your real true self

your personality.

he accepts your flaws and who you are but he will talk to you about bettering yourself a few times if they’re really bad and habitual (which he’s perfect if you have low self esteem because he’ll help you realize you might be overthinking and underestimating yourself, bringing you back to reality like the realist he is)

he’s not necessarily judgmental though

i feel like the part of him that’s not afraid to tell it like it is, is being misunderstood as him being judgmental

anyway that’s for when he has a crush on you

now its time for love

😍

okay so what (for), when, where and why right?

(“what about who? 🤓☝️“ YOU, FOOL!)

so what (for):

i dabbled in this okay? he loves your personality

for your flaws, your strengths, your weaknesses, your IQ (high or low), your fears

he loves everything about you

when?:

probably when you guys are pretty close

not him and mic close

but y’all have been friends for some time now

i say a couple of months

he doesn’t fall fast

maybe first though, if you an oblivious typa person

where (does he realize);

he was probably sitting on his couch after dinner, waiting for his shower to get hot, snug as a bug in his sleeping bag, drinkin a juicy box.

see the vision?

okay

so he was thinkin n thinkin n thinkin…

about you.

wait.

about you

why was he thinking so much about you.

omg wait..

he just remembered..

your beautiful smile (don’t care if it’s crooked, missing teeth, over/underbite- it’s GOREGEOUS)

your beautiful hair

your beautiful eyes

your personality

he realized he was thinking about you so much because…

he loves you

sits there head empty for a hot minute…

then falls asleep..

(rip water bill- shower still running)

why?:

wym why he fell in love? your YOU!!

your amazing even if he doesn’t say it all the time

or even if you don’t think it

even if no else thinks it!

someone does!

him!

he’s not the type of person to romanticize the person he loves

but he does accept you!

but as i said he loves you most for personality!

purely, truly—you

now let’s dabble back into the little gestures he’ll do to sway you once he realizes he loves you

for one like i said he’ll comb his hair in his fingers

and if he sees you find that attractive he’ll do it a little more around you

now keep in mind

your special

he doesn’t go around doing things like that for just anyone

no matter how small the change if it’s not beneficial he won’t do it

but this is beneficial

because he’s trying to court you ;)

he loves you, and he wants you to love him back now :)

but anyways

back on topic

he’ll also shrink his personal bubble around you

so now you can;

stand a little closer than normal

brush your fingers together

have your arms side by side

touch knees together when sitting

lay your head in his lap during movie night and he won’t say anything

(he wouldn’t pet your head but he’s not going to move you either)

rest your head on his shoulder as he does stuff/work (usually in private like when he’s planning his lessons on weekends)

speaking of that you can now come over unannounced and he’ll be glad to see you, ask you about your day, etc

back on topic to gestures he does,

his favors can get more personal,

like if you need to run errands but aren’t feeling well he’ll go shopping for you

(although i will say he doesn’t like shopping and has no idea what brands of products you normally buy he’ll do it to help you out)

he’ll also feel comfortable putting his arm on your shoulder (not around, on)

the gestures aren’t a lot because he isn’t the most cuddly guy (in my realistic headcanons)

but they mean something to you

AN: i tried to write canon aizawa more than fanon because it’s better that way to me but if anyone wants a little more cuddly/fanon aizawa i’d be happy to give it to them

i’m really happy with the way this turned out so i hope everyone can enjoy as well

ps: if you want specifically how he asks you out id love to do that (i might do it anyways 😋)

[lapis-lights]

Chapter 03 | Kiss the Skin From My Lips

'Falling From Grace' Series

[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Song Title: Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy

Content Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY), Unprotected p in v, Porn with feelings, Creampie, Some dirty taking but nothing too intense, The lovers in enemies to lovers

Word Count: 14.1k

Author's Notes: Chapter three of the Falling From Grace series! Sooooo....this is really my first time attempting a smut scene so criticism would be really appreciated if you have any! Otherwise, I hope you guys like this chapter :)

Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!

Series Masterlist

Ao3

Summary: As tensions ride high between you and Leon, you execute your first infiltration mission of the J.I.E. lab. What you find inside is more than just a few simple monsters, but rather a life or death situation and an experience that leaves you and Leon absolutely breathless.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

And you can kiss the skin from my lips if it makes you feel good... I'm not sure if you want it; I'm not sure if you need me too.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

When you wake up, there's a deep ache in your bones and you think sourly of how you're getting on in your years. 

At this point, don't people start planning their retirement homes or something? You've led anything but a normal life so really, you wouldn't know, but from what you've heard, it's gotta be something along those lines. When did your twenties end and your thirties begin?

Jesus Christ, you've let yourself go.

You start your morning routine, ignoring Leon who's still happily snoring away, and taking a trip down to the first floor to the gym room. There's some flimsy equipment down there and it's definitely not the high quality stuff you get at actual gyms or at the J.I.E.'s professional training programs, but you'll have to make do for now. 

You start with simple stretches to warm up as you ponder everything that has happened last night. 

You think about the way Ada had looked and by proxy, Leon. He's never mentioned her to you ever so you suspect there must be a reason for that. Maybe he wanted to protect her from you in case you decided to go on a rampage or something, but that didn’t make sense either. Was Leon into the type of woman that could fend for herself or did he just care if she was a looker or not?

If that’s the case, you were definitely crossed off the list. The scar tissue bears a heavy burden. 

You lose yourself in the familiar burn of exercise and it feels oddly good to hurt in the ways that tell you your efforts weren’t going to waste. Eventually, this moment of peace will come to an end just like all good things, but right now, you stay in the intensity of your workout. You don’t even notice the door opening.

It’s a guy you haven’t seen before, clean shaven and muscular. You can tell he keeps himself fit but whether it’s for work or just for show, you don’t know. He doesn’t look bad at all with dark doe eyes and light brown hair that sweeps across his forehead enticingly. 

“I didn’t know pretty girls vacationed here,” he says and you rip your eyes away from the floor to meet his. What little respect you had deluded yourself into making for him bleeds away and in a split decision, you decide to play with him just a little.

“And I didn’t know good-looking men frequented these parts,” you fire back, batting eyelashes and giving him the most innocent look you can muster. “No need to flatter. I’m sure you could pull someone better than lil’ old me.”

“Don’t put yourself down so fast, babe,” he snorts, heading for the weights and you mentally roll your eyes as you see his intent to try and impress you with reps. 

However, you keep up the disguise and take a seat on a nearby medicine ball while watching him carefully. “I’m not putting myself down–it’s the truth.”

He doesn’t answer but he does make sure to put extra emphasis on choosing a fairly heavy hand weight and beginning to rep without any warm up. Silently, you know he’ll pull a muscle eventually and all for a woman he’ll likely never see in his life again. Womanizers like him never made much sense to you, but you suppose human instincts can make people irrational at the best of times.

“So you got a boyfriend?” he asks and you hum.

Would you? Should you?

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” you decide on answering, which wasn’t much far from the truth itself in all honesty. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know if there’s anybody keeping me from taking you out.”

“You’re at a hotel,” you scoff. “Do you have anybody waiting for you back in your room?”

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” he grins.

So he did come here with someone. How disgusting. You’re not the most morally correct person in the world, but even you understand the basic agreement of being in a relationship, and furthermore, you kow the importance put on the concept of loyalty. Well…you know how it’s supposed to be.

“Right,” you sigh, “and what are you proposing we do?”

His eyes flash suggestively and if you had the energy, you’d projectile vomit. “I’d take you out for a real nice dinner then bring you back to mine so we could-”

He shuts up when the door flies open and Leon strides in so confidently you forget that he’s supposed to be back at the suite stuck in dreamland. However, the stormy glance he gives you is nothing compared to the downright murderous glare he directs at the guy you hadn’t bothered to get the name of.

"Woah, man," the guy says, blissfully unaware. "You must be riled up for a serious workout."

"No," Leon answers, voice clipped and tight in a way you've never heard him before. "I was just looking for my wife who happened to get a headstart in her day without me."

The guy's face pales when he motions to you and you shrug non committedly before getting up and opening the door that leads out. Leon is hot on your heels as you make your way out and it's not long before he's gripping your wrist and pulling you back to stop your stride.

"Mind telling me what the fuck that was?" He demands, keeping his voice just quiet enough to not disturb the other residents.

"I was having fun," you hum, "since you're providing no entertainment for me."

"You can't just go wandering off where I can't see you."

"I'm not a child."

“Of course you’re not, but you’re practically a walking target for any undercover agent,” he sighs as you wrench your hand from his grasp and scowl. “You scared me is all.”

The sentiment might’ve been sweeter if your brain didn’t remind you of his latenight amorous meeting with Ada and it sours your whole mood even further. Long gone is that steadily growin soft spot and it only gets replaced by stone cold bitterness. Had the world always been this dark?

You spin on your heel and ignore the confused sound Leon makes as he follows closely like he’s afraid he’ll lose you again.

“You’re losing your edge, Kennedy,” you sniff dismissively.

“What?”

“Isn't this all some complex business partnership to you?” The walk to the room seems to drag on longer than you like and the nagging feeling of his eyes on you makes you want to scream, cry, and break all at once.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” he asks as if this whole thing would be any different than past encounters.

You ignore him, approaching the suite and unlocking the door with your keycard and pushing through roughly, not waiting for any protest from Leon. Your brain flies with so many unanswered questions and they’re so loud that you want to fall to your knees and beg them to stop.

Unable to take it anymore, you whirl around and he almost runs into you from the abrupt halt.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?!” You demand, bordering on a plea but he doesn’t need to know how deep the desperation went. 

His dark eyebrows knit in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like–” you struggle to form a coherent line of thought, “–with those eyes.”

You know you don’t make much sense but you can see it register in his expression, dusty blue darkening into electric and the atmosphere rapidly shifts from one emotion to another. He’s so close now, less than an arm's reach away, and he looks at you from beneath his lashes in a way that’s enough to drive you to insanity.

Why was he doing this? How was he doing this? How was Leon of all people drawing you in deep enough to get under your skin? How could he command the tension between you like it was a simple race down a one-way street and simultaneously provide no context behind his motives?

Why did Ada come by last night and how did she know who he was? How did she know you?

These questions sprout one after another like those depressing time loop videos of flowering plants. He answers none of them and it’s only all the more infuriating.

“Leon,” you swallow harshly and stand your ground. “What do you want from me?”

The question is left hanging in the air, an unoccupied noose. It’s intimidating, dread on your shoulders like a heavy burden as you wait for an answer that never comes. Leon just looks at you like he was waiting for you to come to some revelation and answer the question for yourself but no such reason comes forth.

Ridiculous. 

He does nothing, and his nonchalant exterior only makes you more infuriated and frustrated with the sensation of talking to the equivalent of a brick wall. Instead, Leon’s eyes flick around your face as if he was soaking every detail, absorbing as much as he could. You watch him warily like a hawk, wondering just how much longer the two of you could dance around this issue of unspoken feeling and silent motive.

Then, his eyes travel down to your mouth in a way you would’ve missed if you blinked. Your lips part as his tongue darts out to wet his own, the muscle gliding along his skin and leaving a light sheen of saliva behind.

The movement is miniscule but addicting all the same, and you’re almost knocked breathless with the urge to pull him close just to get his hands on your body. You want to kiss him so badly until his lips swell with the imprint of yours and his passion matches to suit your own. You want the taste of that spearmint gum he always carries around and the aura of alcohol that always stays with him no matter where he goes. 

Craving flares in your stomach as tears well in your eyes, confused and angry as to why this was happening now.

Did Leon know how much he was torturing you? Was he just pupeteering you around just to leave you cold and alone like your family, friends, and past lovers did? You wouldn’t be able to handle that–you can feel it. That would be your breaking point, your hamartia. 

Your death.

It takes all of your strength to pull away from him and his hypnotic spell though you’re not sure if he even had an inkling of the self-torment you’re undergoing with this new revelation.

He doesn’t stop you as you escape onto the balcony, slamming the sliding door closed, and gulping in the oxygen like you held your head underwater too long.

An ugly sob rips from your throat and self-loathing burns bright and hot in your gut. The heat is almost too much to handle as you hate yourself for allowing yourself to cry like this over something so miniscule and especially because of something Leon had done. He doesn’t even have the audacity to be sorry.

Still, emotions are nothing new even if your understanding of love is so warped beyond repair. You’re stronger than this. You’re better. You have to be.

Your knees give out and you have no choice but to fall onto one of the patio chairs and let the numbness spread through your body. The tears begin drying tracks on your cheeks as new ones follow the path of the old, but you don’t have the heart or energy to wipe them away.

What were your feelings about Leon truly? It’s obvious you don’t hate him as much as you had before and the thought of him dying now scares you more than ever. There’s still some old hate there, just behind your ribcage just waiting to explode outward again, but dulled by an entirely new portion of your brain. 

The portion of your brain that wants to kiss him. The one that wants Leon to take you out on dates and make jokes as your husband and admire him under the golden lighting of the sun. The one that charges into your old self with a fierce snarl and starts a battle for your wishes and dreams. 

Your head hits the back of the chair and you screw your eyes shut, trying to make sense of the whole entire thing. 

Nothing but the image of that desolate and dead landscape from your dream comes to mind. You can still hear the rolling thunder and cracking lightning as if it had happened right in front of your eyes. You can still feel the sticky blood on your hands and the metallic scent permeating the air as lifeless eyes had stared up at you.

Devoid of passion. Devoid of anything.

Is that what you wanted–what you wished for? Is that your happy ending? 

Somehow–for some inexplicable and unknown reason–you don't think so.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Guns weigh heavy in your palms, but in a cruel twist of fate, it also means home.

The power to kill someone lying in a variety of sizes are the only way to survive in your profession. That much is obvious. You've been through the same song and dance a million times over and then some–so this? This is nothing new. 

Tensions have been high in the suite as you do your level best to avoid Leon while confined to such a small space with him. Over the past couple of days, your interactions have lasted with only a few clipped words and making plans to infiltrate the lab you'd found in the clothing department dressing room. Today was the day you'd decided to put your plans into action despite how poorly they've been communicated.

You know for tag team missions like this, communication is vital. However, you can't bring yourself to care. Being dealt potential death seems much better than having to face Leon and grapple with the warring thoughts tugging between wanting to end him and wanting more with him. He doesn't make it any easier.

He's not bitter. The exterior he puts up paints him as a grumpy middle-aged man whose experiences have only made him all the more angry at the world. You know him better than that, though. That's just how he is naturally, and if he was anything but that, you would know best how to spot the signs. However, this new attitude of his is something you’ve never encountered before so it’s hard to pinpoint just exactly what state of mind he was in.

Over the course of just a couple days, you find yourself struggling to hold on to that composure you worked so hard to craft. Leon leaves you alone and allows you to have your space, but even then, it takes all of your willpower just to not stare openly. 

You indulge yourself late at night when his breathing deepens and your thoughts are just between you and whatever potential god there was. There were nights where your thoughts run rampant and take whatever chance you allow to admire him. You wish that there was something more between you emotionally and nothing physically. You want that sensation of his body on yours and what that might entail, and you want him deeper than you ever have before.

Shamefully, you wonder if he would burn just as deliciously as you imagined or if it would be more just because it's Leon. Would that controlled blaze turn into a wild forest fire under his advances? Would he steal your breath away roughly or would he take his unrelenting time to savor you all? Would he aim to watch tears roll down your cheeks or would he kiss them all away with whispers of sweet nothings?

Your enemy, putting you at the mercy of his hands and body, was a thought you kept sealed away tightly. Nobody could ever know about it.

When the morning came, you had checked your back and was delighted upon knowing that the wound had healed thanks to the full effect of Leon's questionable herbs. You'd put on your tactical gear over it, stretching to get the blood flowing and downing a coffee for good measure. 

While he's in the bathroom, you check over your weapons once more and make sure all of your guns are loaded and stocked. Running out of ammo has been the reason for near-death multiple times so it’s especially crucial that you don’t make that mistake today.

Alone with your thoughts, you finally grapple with what you’re trying to do today.

For so many years, the J.I.E. had silenced you and molded your mind and body into a perfect little war soldier under the pretenses that you were making the world a better place. You’d been a fool, blind to the millions of deaths that were paying for the price of a few lives until that veil was snatched away and revealed the horrors of humanity to you.

Your eyes shut as you remember the chains, rubbing your wrists raw as you were forced into discipline. The memory of cold metal kissing your skin before breaking through it, promising worse if you hadn’t obeyed was fresh as a morning bloom in your head. Your own screams had sounded like they were from someone else, leaving your throat torn and your vocal cords frayed. 

Leon would never know the extent of the pain you had gone through, even if he’s the only one that knew the basics. You were afraid of what he would think of that–of you.

He emerges finally ready and you stare wordlessly at him. A silent understanding passes between you and the two of you jump into action. 

The car ride there is a blur. Despite having walked before on your small outing when you first got here, you'd figured it would be much easier to have a getaway vehicle ready and parked a couple blocks away just in case. The store opened early, and just in time for you to sneak in inconspicuously.

Avoiding employees was easy, especially after you had swiped a keycard from the manager’s stand upon finding it carelessly abandoned. 

The dressing rooms were easy enough to get into and you led Leon into the one that you had changed in while you tried on that pretty little dress he recommended. It’s only been a few days but that night feels like it was so long ago, especially with how many cycles of emotions you’ve been subjected to since then. 

Upon removing the middle panel, holding the keycard up to the gray block causes a loud click to sound out that notifies the door has been unlocked. Uneasily, you breathe in deeply and push in. 

The interior is something you’re familiar with since it took on a similar appearance to that of the lab you’d been assigned to. However, the layout is foreign so it’s a toss in the air as to where anything could possibly be. The walls are lined with thick cords that are warm to the touch and the vibration of the lab's electricity current hums under your feet. You take out your handgun, keeping your finger off the trigger but staying alert all the same. 

Leon fires off a shot and you whirl around just in time to see a camera falling to the ground brokenly. 

The initial entrance is a straight shot but eventually you reach a hub of sorts where there are multiple tunnels branching off into different directions. Above them are signs that list the area of interest that each one led down to, ranging from dormitories to experimentations. The offices were the most dangerous to try and breach since multiple people working meant a bigger crowd to try and disperse if you got caught, though you're convinced that this place must be overrun like an ant colony.

"Where do we go from here?" Leon asks and your stomach flips. 

You haven't heard him speak since your fallout a few days ago so it's an emotional whiplash being reminded of what exactly the most miniscule things about him do to you. Things that shouldn't elicit such reactions, making your skin spark with invisible electricity and putting your brain on high alert when he so much as breathes heavier.

"Anywhere we go is gonna be crawling with workers," you answer, keeping your composure. "They're usually confined to their assigned station for the whole day before being let off to go home. We should try and go to one that has the least amount of people or the biggest advantage for us."

"Where do you propose that might be?"

You look up at the labels above the tunnels before settling on one. "The observation deck. They use it to record the progress of their bioweapons and monitor any potential dangers they might pose so they're on a tight schedule. We might be able to find something about what they're doing there."

He nods and together, you make your way through the tunnel, shooting down any more security cameras you see and testing for any potential defense mechanisms they might have installed. It's eerily quiet besides the atmospheric noises and suspicion rises in your mind as you wonder why you haven't seen anybody thus far in your journey. You'd expected a flood of scientists or at least one assassination attempt as soon as you stepped inside, but maybe this wasn't as uptight as the lab you were at.

The observation deck was a series of catwalks crossing over a large arena, presumably where they let their bioweapons roam free while they stayed a safe height away from it. From where you entered, it happens to be in the 4th level, though the platforms stretch to multiple stories above your head. It looked almost similar to the pictures of the lab beneath the white house that Wilson had hidden away with the whole incident with Jason, though this one lacked any chemical experiments in the middle. 

“Let’s go,” you whisper, pointing up to a space encased in glass. “They might have reports we can get into over there.”

Just as you go to begin walking, the static cracking of a speaker jumping to life immediately halts your steps. Leon whips around, pushing his back to yours as you defensively cover each other with your guns at the ready. There’s no telling where the speaker might be or where it was located, but the fact that it was active at all is a problem.

Then, the crackling dissipates and the voie comes through, muffled by the poor quality of a microphone.

“So you’ve finally made it,” the voice purrs through the intercom. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Neither you nor Leon answer, swiveling around and searching for any oddities while keeping your wits as the speaker crackles again and clears.

“Unfortunately, we don’t appreciate outsiders much, Agent (L/n). You should know that more than anybody.”

You grit your teeth, trying not to let their words get underneath your skin. 

“Ah, well. You were a valuable asset to us. It’s so unfortunate we’ll have to do some clean-up, so to speak.” 

Beneath you, something crashes against the wall with a violent boom and the dark growl of something massive reverberates through the whole entire room. A sick sort of dread grows as you look down before glancing back at Leon who’s sharing the same thought process as you are. It’s not that hard to deduce what would happen next, and silently, you pray to whatever’s out there that you would make it out of this thing alive. 

“You really need to work on your speeches, pal,” Leon snaps and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t stuck in such a precarious and unpredictable situation. 

“And you need to work on your manners, Mr. Kennedy,” the voice cackles, all ugly and sounding like they were hacking up a lung. “You’ll be regretting those words when you’re dead. Entertain the animal for me, will you?”

The speaker clicks off just as a metal door below flies off its hinges and nearly blows through the wall of the arena below. You break from the formation you and Leon had set up to look down at what you’re up against and your eyes widen with horror. It’s got multiple appendages whipping out from every limb, taking on the sick appearance of some mutated spider. Multiple eyes glow yellow as it glances around before zeroing in on you above it.

“Leon,” you mumble, backing up and he only gets a sparse good look at what you're up against before he’s grabbing your wrist and sprinting down the catwalk. 

The beast screeches upon seeing its target on the move and one of those long arms shoots upward to latch onto the railing of the walkway. You just barely make it onto safe ground before it’s yanked away and the whole path crashes to the ground. Panic curls in your chest as you remember what had happened the last time you had faced off a bioweapon, and you start running after Leon once you gain your bearings.

All along the sides are countless offices that hold large filing cabinets, though they hardly matter in this chase scene. The monster hisses, spitting something before launching upward and beginning to climb the walls rapidly towards you. You’re able to deter it with a couple well-aimed shots to its head but, it only makes it angrier as well.

Once it’s up, your stomach jumps into your throat upon seeing that the thing is almost twice as tall as you are. It lumbers toward you with a hiss as it secretes acid that burns into the ground. Leon stops in front of you, pulling out a rifle and pressing the scope to his eye. You’re confused as to what his approach is until he shoots and the monster reels back in pain with a scream. When you look, you see that he’s hit one of the multiple grotesque eyeballs that embed along the legs of the mutated spider. It’s not hard to see where Leon was going with this so you take out your own rifle to join him.

Gunshots ring in your ears as you and Leon rain down hellfire, backing away every so often to put distance between you and the bioweapon. 

Leon runs up a flight of stairs before shoving himself into a crevice that's only large enough to fit one. You stumble up after him and turn onto another catwalk, looking back and almost vomiting. The ugly monster's wounds are leaking pus that chews holes into the ground it walks on, eyes flicking wildly before finding you–entirely missing Leon–and heading frantically in your direction.

Of fucking course they made all of its bodily fluids acidic. What else would you expect?

You switch out your rifle for a magnum and shoot around Leon as he brings up the rear. He works on picking off the rest of the leg eyeballs while you set to getting the fucker right in between it's menacing yellow eyes. The recoil is almost unfamiliar, but you swiftly get back into the rhythm of handling the weapon, walking back before reaching to your tactical utility belt and yanking off an incendiary grenade. 

You pull the pin, throw it, and shield your eyes from the burst of flames that erupt and start licking along the spider's body. It shrieks so ungodly loud that you would've almost clapped your hands around your ears if you didn't remember where you were and what your goal was. You reload your magnum as quickly and accurately as you can manage, and keep shooting. Leon sprints out, using the weakened legs as leverage to swing himself onto its back and start stabbing it with the combat knife he'd been hiding. 

He's a genius and lunatic all at once.

You suppose this must be nothing new to him since Leon's faced who knows how many bioweapons at this point, but this is your first time seeing it up close and personal. He fights like it's second nature–like he's simply just breathing. It's mesmerizing to watch, but the moment is over when he gets thrown off into your direction and lands heavily in front of you directly onto his arm with a pained grunt.

You wince, hoping that it hasn't been broken or dislocated, reaching out and hauling him to his feet when he accepts your hand. Together, you keep shooting as Leon pulls the pin on a hand grenade and throws it at the spider's feet. You halt, palms covering your ears as it flashes multiple times then explodes, taking the mutated monster down with it. 

Organs go flying everywhere and you duck to avoid the majority splatter of the acidic blood. The explosion causes a creak and only the middle portion of the catwalk sinks before crumbling down into the wreckage already created by the first ruined walkway. 

Leon stands up, panting heavily as he looks down into the mess below that has sparked a fire and was burning merrily as if you hadn't just killed a man-made monster. Speaking of which, whose body had joined the metal below and had speared onto the sharp pieces that jutted out like a homemade spike pitfall trap. 

He turns to you, going to open his mouth to say something but is rapidly silenced by a creaking groan and then he shouts in panic when the ground beneath his feet gives way. You gasp, lunging forward and grabbing his hand on instinct as the portion of the walkway falls into the void below and he's left dangling precariously from a fatal height with only you to hold onto. 

He glances down then back up at you, desperation in his eyes as you both come to the same realization and conclusion. 

You could kill him right now.

All you had to do was let go and it would all be over as if this never happened. He would be out of your hair and all that torment he subjected you to would dissipate like cotton candy subjected to water. This would all end if you would just take the chance to drop him into that dangerous trap where you would never have to see him again, never have to worry about him again. You could drop him and turn away without a second glance to see if he survived or not.

Leon’s eyes flash and you know exactly what it is despite never seeing it before. It’s pure unadulterated fear, with his life hanging in the balance of someone who had expressed distaste for him a healthy amount of times and whose certainly not favorable towards him in any way at the moment. Even if he saved your life, were you so willing to give up this once-in-a-lifetime chance?

You have the high ground now.

You determine his fate.

You could end it all right now by just yanking your hand away and taking back everything you had done to improve your relationship with him. 

Your heart thuds marathons in your ears as all your muscles twitch and have a war in your mind. The thoughts curl and shriek around each other, fighting for what they believed the right thing to do was and it felt like the whole world was watching you for some sort of revolutionary choice.

You wince, knowing what your decision is.

Hauling Leon up, your legs burn as you lift his weight from the ledge and onto safe ground, rolling away when he finally lands on the stable ground that the catwalk had been attached to. Your lungs beg for air and you pant, faintly registering what just happened as you ride out that high of adrenaline. Leon must be out of it if he hasn't made a sarcastic quip about almost dying.

"We need to get to safety," you say, shakily getting to your feet and almost stumbling back down from the shock factor.

He only nods and you reach out to help him up. Even though you didn’t drop him to his untimely death, he looks at you warily before accepting the offer, almost falling to his knees again before you shoot forward and catch him. His body heat radiates through your skin and your cheeks set ablaze at the proximity even as you sling one of his arms around your shoulders and support some of his weight as you begin walking.

“There’s a safe room I saw on the way while we were running,” you mumble, avoiding making any sort of eye contact. “We can go over there and make sure you’re not hurt.”

“What about you?” He rasps and it leaves you wondering why he’s so adamant about the state of your health when he’s just looked death between the eyes.

You laugh breathlessly, almost sarcastically if you weren’t still riding the high of that fading adrenaline. “Don’t worry about me.”

You and Leon make your way to one of the cubicles, and you set him down carefully on the office chair that he manages to unceremoniously slump into. It’s clear that his almost-death is impacting him, though you now well that this isn’t the first time he’s had a touch of the afterlife. It really did make you wonder what about this time made it any different. 

While he squeezes his eyes shut and massages the shoulder he’d landed on, you reach into your bag and pull out a first aid spray for him to use when he’s ready before standing and taking in your environment. The computer is innocently waiting on the stand with the J.I.E. logo set as the wallpaper, and there’s a filing cabinet that you try to open. It doesn’t give way and you mumble out a curse under your breath as you start poking around the desk drawers for a possible key.

Leo pops the top off the spray bottle and starts healing his wounds while you flip through various pages inside. Most of them are unhelpful and just detailing things you already knew until you tumble on a report for the spider you had just killed.

You put it into a manila folder that you put in your bag, rummaging around more until you find a hidden compartment that holds the key to the file cabinet. Upon opening the locked drawer, you find reports on agents–including your own–and details on the imports and exports the company had been engaging in. 

Then, you hit the jackpot.

First and foremost was a folder of maps that laid out every level and room there was in the entirety of the lab. Then, there was a large binder that recorded every experiment the J.I.E. had engaged with the creation of their bioweapons, even detailing a new virus that they were meddling with. You flip through, finding monster after monster that has failed and succeeded. For now, this would be enough until you could figure out a plan using the map and going over the particulars of the experiments.

“We should go now,” you decide. “This is more than enough to figure out where we’re going and what we’re up against.”

Silence.

The lack of response causes you to turn around and peer questioningly at Leon who just nods mindlessly and gets up. He doesn’t meet your eyes and this attitude only makes you all the more confused. What had gotten into him?

Nonetheless, he follows as you make your way to an elevator that you go up in to return to the main hub that you had entered through. You suppose that nobody had watched you through the cameras and just automatically assumed you were being taken care of by the spider bioweapon since it's still suspiciously dead silent. 

You still stay alert, and if you hadn't been so on edge, Leon would've walked right into the wire trap that had been meticulously strung across the tunnel. You pull him back sharply without thinking, fingers lacing with his as you yank.

He grunts as you pull away, going to carefully disarm it, figuring this was their way of alarming anybody you made it out alive. The explosion surely would have let someone know that there were two unauthorized people still running around, so it was good you had seen the thin wire and the two dark devices flashing red lights. Then again, you'd expected Leon to be just as attentive as you were to your surroundings. 

Something was bothering him. Seeing him like this wasn't helping you much either, dying to know just what had him so distracted. 

The two of you finally make it to the exit carefully pushing outward into the dressing room whose door had been locked when the two of you entered to prevent anybody seeing things they shouldn't be. A quick pack of wet wipes is enough to make yourselves look decent enough to not look like you’d been playing around in dirt and gunpowder, and you make plans to shower once you got back to the hotel.

All throughout your way back, Leon still stays infuriatingly silent from the lab to the suite, and the question as to why teases the tip of your tongue. 

You get inside, let him know you're going to run yourself a bath, and retreat to the restroom as you sigh out with a whimper almost escaping in the process. In the solitude of your own thoughts, you finally let yourself feel that pain and anguish and confusion that you always hold back in the presence of Leon.

Fighting didn’t help at all. If anything, it only made it all the worse feeling guilt or something akin to it.

Would he ever tell you about Ada or was that just something you would have to figure out for yourself? Could you ever be closer to him knowing that he had said you meant nothing to him? It must be true if he had said it without expecting you to hear, and somehow, that sentiment causes a stabbing pang in your chest. It’s a wonderful and horrible thing–wanting someone so badly but knowing they would never want you back.

It’s a bittersweet taste on your tongue with a pungent aftertaste stinging your tastebuds, dooming yourself in the process.

Emotions were always so easy to stomp down and kill before. What about this whole ordeal could possibly make this any different?

Some dark part of your mind whispers that you know. You know what this provocative emotion is that makes your head spin and act irrationally, but you’d die before ever admitting it out loud. This may as well be worse than a death penalty–or rather, it is your death penalty. 

The sound of rushing water acts as a soothing white noise until the tub is full and submerging yourself in the warm water causes a sigh of relief to fly past your lips in a gentle exhale. You take your time, washing your hair and massaging fingers into your scalp to help focus on releasing all of that tension that has built up over the past few days. The water turns gray from all that built up grime and dust and the soapy suds merely adds to the discoloration once you actually start scrubbing.

Once you’re done, you feel more human, more in control. The thoughts have quieted, and you finally start to feel like you can get a grasp on yourself again. You think you’re ready to see Leon and just simply resign to the watching the city on the balcony or going to sleep early like the past few days have allowed you. You can live with this. You can do it.

Once this is all said and done, you can part ways. You can forget him.

You could…

You have to. Right?

You step out, steam chasing after you as if beckoning you back into its warm embrace and you find Leon staring out the window mindlessly. You get hit with deja vu as it reminds you of the first morning you’d gotten here and watched the sunrise together. That was when you were nothing more than unlikely but eager allies. Now? You don’t know what you are. 

You don’t want to be the one that wants him while he just wants the entertainment. You’re smarter than that.

“Hey,” you call out and he turns slightly, acknowledging you. The atmosphere turns slightly awkward when he provides no verbal answer. “I’m just going to go sit outside for a bit since I guess you want to be alone right now. If you need me, I’ll be-”

"Stop."

His command makes the words fade from your tongue and you swallow harshly. The first words he’s spoken to you since asking how you were at the lab are spoken roughly, making your heart drop into your stomach. When had you started listening to him when he ordered you around? You weren't one of his rookies or agents on his team, but right now, you were completely and totally at the mercy of whatever he might do.

"Why did you save me?" He asks tightly, turning around and finally getting a good look at you in an oversized t-shirt with pajama shorts barely peeking out from underneath the hem. His eyes wander and he swallows harshly. "You could have killed me–ended this feud and finally been the hero of this whole story. Why did you do it?"

You don't have to think about the answer, but it's shameful. After giving him the cold shoulder upon hearing him with Ada and sealing your emotions in a tight little glass bottle, they come spilling out now for Leon to pick through and judge. 

"I don't want you to die," you whisper, taking a step back, afraid of whatever he might say. 

He moves toward you at an excruciatingly slow pace, expression unreadable and more intimidating than the literal bioweapon you had survived just hours ago. You match his footfalls backward and you think this fear must be what prey feels like when death has locked eyes on it.

"I can't–We can talk about this, yeah?” You try explaining, wondering if there was any possibility you could talk your way out of this. “It doesn't matter–not really. We just…"

You're rambling now, trying to find an excuse to stop those blue eyes from piercing your soul and peeling away every layer of defense you've built up. He keeps getting closer and you're running out of room to escape to. You've never been more scared of him than in this moment–even when he almost killed you the day you met, you've never felt like this. A deer in the headlights, electricity coursing through your nerves as your brain struggles to choose between fight or flight. 

Did he know? Did he know about all those lingering gazes and words that held guilt behind them and all those emotions that you weren't supposed to be having clogging up your chest?

Your back hits a wall and you're fucked.

Leon's hand finds your waist when he's close enough, your skin rushing hot as his breath fans your face and you smell spearmint. It's addicting. He's addicting. Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, pounding anxiously as the nerves in your body light up like a Christmas tree.

When he speaks, it’s all low tones and so fucking attractive.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs, affectionately raw in a way you never would've imagined him to be. His other hand comes up, cupping your jaw delicately and all the blood rushes to your face.

He's called you many things before, and has used more than enough adjectives to convey this disdain for you. Annoying, disgusting, naive, revolting, repulsive…but never in a million years would he have called you sweet. You must be dreaming, and if you are, you never want to wake up.

"I'm actually a very indulgent creep," you wheeze out and barely conceal a whimper. "Leon, you-"

He cuts you off as his lips press onto yours and all rational thought leaves your brain in an instant. His mouth molds to yours, fingers on your waist mindlessly beginning to run circles as he presses heavily onto you as if this is what’s been wanting just as much as you. All you can feel is him, his hands on your body, his mouth working your own in such a sinful way that makes your head spin and your stomach do cartwheels.

You close your eyes, let yourself fall from grace, and plummet.

His tongue licks into your mouth and you moan as he presses you further into the wall as if it were possible. His grip turns almost bruising on your skin as he guides the hand that had been caressing your waist down to your thigh, prompting your leg to wrap around him. When you get the hint, he uses the momentum to haul you up and you squeak as he gets his arm underneath you with ease and stabilizes you. 

Leon laughs breathlessly, and he kisses on your neck. Your fingers thread through his brunette locks while you work on refilling your lungs with air. This small hint of joy–this humorous moment in something so tense–is what really matters. You can’t believe this is happening, but the way his touch burns is more than enough of an indicator that this is real.

He moves with you in his arms like you weigh nothing. Leon lets you down onto the hotel suite's bed gentle enough to not hurt you but still rough enough that you bounce from the buoyancy of the memory foam. Your back hits the mattress and everything seems to fall into place the way it should be.

Leon's hands are all over you, trailing from your hips to your stomach and up to your chest. The touch of his palms burns your skin like trails of heated lava pleasantly oozing along your veins. He burns so brightly but yet so so good. Leon hikes up your shirt, exposing your stomach to the cool air that blows across your burning body as his tongue pries your mouth open again. You hum in satisfaction as his wet muscle curls around yours hotly and arousal sparks in your gut as you feel slick just starting to begin pooling uncomfortably in your panties.

He pulls away, kissing the corner of your mouth as he pants, your legs still straddling around him even while you lie down. He looks so fucking pretty. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He teases and you kick him lightly in the back with your heel. 

"You wish," you retort mockingly. "You're all bark and no bite."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

You smile, something genuine and soft and so beautifully crafted just for him. "It's whatever you want it to be."

"Then let me tell you how I want it to be." His hot breaths fan across your skin and you really do feel like you're already burning as his fingers pull your shirt further and further up your torso. 

"Go ahead," you pull him closer, noses bumping together as you press a feather-light kiss to the stubble on his cheek. "I'm listening."

"I want you underneath me," he admits it like he's in a confessional, but whatever this is is far from holy. "I want to hear how you sound when I make you feel good, sweetheart." He nips at your neck, soothing the tiny burn with the flat of his tongue. "Can I do that for you? Will you let me?"

You wouldn’t just hand everything over to him on a silver platter. A little teasing never hurts, right?

"I don't know," you hum, though every instinct in you screams to submit just so he can do whatever he wants with you. "All this just for a little entertainment? You sure do go all out, Kennedy."

"Is that what you think this is?" He pulls away and you almost protest at the lack of contact until you get a good look at his expression. Something like sadness and doubt lining those electric blue eyes that you've come to stare at for hours. 

You don’t like the sudden shift in atmosphere so you shake your head in hopes of clearing those shadows away from his head. “Of course not–I’m sorry. That was a bad choice of wording on my part.”

He laughs, nervous and still lingering with some semblance of unease. “You sure know how to keep me on my toes.”

“I haven’t been this close with someone in a while,” you admit and shift your eyes to a random spot on the ceiling, trying to ignore the giddy feeling that came from him still hovering above you from between your legs. “You should know I’m not very…experienced or anything. I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises, fingers tilting up your chin so he can lean upward to press a warm kiss to your forehead. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

You take the time to consider this, knowing that whatever was about to unfold would be something big in your relationship. It feels like there hasn’t been enough time to process your undying devotion for him or the questions that still linger behind Ada’s appearance, but you do know that this is something you can work out. This is something you want.

Still, there’s just some things you can’t let go of.

“Before I answer that,” you sigh, hating that you’re bringing down the mood with your fears. “Can I ask what Ada was doing here–what she wanted?”

Leon’s eyes take on a new emotion and his whole body tenses. You’re afraid that you’ve struck a chord he wouldn’t want to discuss and you fearfully wonder if this would sever any chance you have with him.

“You know Ada?” he asks and it’s painful when he says so. Whatever she means to him, it must not herald any good will.

“No,” you frown. “I heard you talking a few nights ago on the balcony. You…” The words don’t come off your tongue stubbornly, trying to stuff themselves back into your throat. “You said I was nobody–that I meant nothing to you. I mean, if that’s true, then what could you possibly want me for?”

The sting of it all comes rushing back in this incredibly vulnerable moment. You were never good with intense emotions nor did you have a good handle on them when they exploded outward like a volcanic eruption. It’s no surprise when the tears start threatening to fall, though you curse them and hold them back in an attempt to keep your dignity.

Leon makes a wounded noise deep from the back of his throat. 

“I was trying to protect you.”

It doesn’t make sense. “What?”

He ducks his head, and you desperately try to understand. “She’s backstabbed me more than once. I can’t count how many times Ada’s used me for her own gain, and I just–I couldn’t just let her get her hands on you that easily.”

“So…?”

“I lied,” Leon pleads, and the ice melts away from your burning heart. “You mean everything to me, (Y/n). I can’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else.”

“Leon,” you whisper, all too vulnerable and drowning in that unnamed emotion. The answer to his questions and advances pours from your lips like a sacred waterfall, ready and yearning. “I want you. Make me feel good–I’ll let you.”

His pupils dilate and he dives back down, claiming your lips with his in a rougher kiss than the ones previously before. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair when he moves down, tugging on your shirt so that it could finally come off over your torso. The cool air blows across your hot skin, moaning when he massages the pad of his thumb around one of your nipples, and the pleasure sends your thoughts into a whirlwind. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought of this,” Leon murmurs, eyes slipping shut as if he was trying to map out and memorize your whole body.

You don’t get to ask what he means by that when he opens his mouth and licks the flat of his tongue wetly across your tit. Your head tilts back of its own accord, a strangled moan escaping in the process before you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. Heated shame rushes to your cheeks as you look down, already finding Leon gazing up at you, mesmerized.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he prompts, pulling your arm away. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

Why was he so persistent with the pet names? If he keeps this up, you’ll be nothing more than just putty in his hands. 

“Stop,” you whine, covering your eyes like that would change anything. “You’re gonna drive me insane if you keep saying things like that.”

“Do you not like me calling you names?”

You peek through your fingers to find him all the more attentive, trying to find what you don’t like and what you want. That love, care, and attention was something you never had–never deserved. How could you tell him that he’s giving you everything you want while not discouraging him from doing so?

“It’s not that,” you swallow shamefully. “Nobody’s ever told me that. Or called me anything, for that matter. It’s just new–I think I’m trying to figure out how to handle it all.”

His expression darkens and you think he might tease you or tell you to suck it up. Instead, Leon almost growls out, “Nobody?”

You make a noise of confirmation.

“Oh, baby.” He rests his cheek on your stomach and traces patterns on your skin. “Your last partner didn’t?”

You scoff, deciding to be vulnerable just this once. “My last partner was in highschool, honey.” The pet name feels foreign, but good nonetheless. You can understand why he seems so insistent on using them with you. “Like I said–it’s been a while.”

“Even so.” He picks up his head and shakes it, moving even further down and hooking fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “They didn’t appreciate you like you deserved then.”

Your voice cracks as you rest your head back onto the pillow and whisper, “I don’t think I did.”

Down, down, down your shorts trail along your legs, leaving you in nothing but a lacy pair of underwear and all too vulnerable emotionally and physically. You make a noise of dissatisfaction, tugging on Leon’s shirt as he was still unfairly dressed. 

He chuckles and gets the hint, leaning up to throw it off as you get to admire his body. There’s multiple scars from the tussles he’s engaged in with fighting bioweapons for a living, but one in particular catches your eye. Set proudly on his shoulder is a bullet bound that looks to be years old, all knotted and improperly healed. He must’ve not had the right care available to him when he got it. Leon sees you eyeing it, and smiles, albeit a bit sadly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges, falling back over you and kissing you softly, leaving a peck on your chin as he keeps going down. 

“I’ll worry about it later,” you compromise.

Leon lifts one of your legs, trailing featherlight kisses down your calves and into the inside of your thighs before swapping to the other and repeating the action. You sigh blissfully, letting that arousal build like a growing fire in your belly until you absolutely need something to quell it. You need him to do it–nobody else. 

There’s nobody else in the world you would be this exposed to. There’s nobody else you need.

“Leon,” you whine, hips gyrating as the accumulated wetness has become noticeably uncomfortable. “C’mon. I’m dying here.”

He actually laughs at that–not a chuckle or a huff of a breath that you’re so used to. A laugh, warm and genuine and painting lines across his features that you commit to memory in case you can never have this moment with him again. The possibility that this is a one-time thing is terrifying, but it gives you all the more reason to savor it.

Granting you some reprieve, he finally, finally, presses a heated kiss to your clothed clit and you cry out, hips bucking up of their own accord because you needed more than just the slight touches he was teasing you with. Leon gets his hands on you, driving your pelvis down and holding it in place as he licks a heated stripe up the outside of your panties. It's a warm, wet, and wild sensation–one that gives you a taste of Heaven without actually being there.

The feel of it is enough to drown you as you struggle to writhe beneath his restraint, head tossing back and heart fluttering to the beat of hummingbird wings. Your fingers tangle in his hair instinctively and pull, earning a delicious groan from him that reverberates through the room. You’re obsessed, or something along the lines of it, and you hope this never ends.

"You're so beautiful," Leon murmurs, eyes fluttering shut before he begins yanking off your panties like they offended him personally. Your glistening core is exposed to him, positively dripping from just the small things he's given you so far. "Jesus Christ, sweet girl. Is this all from the little I've done?" 

You squeak as he positions your legs over his shoulders, breaths puffing right over your waiting cunt that impatiently pulses with the need to be filled. He still doesn't allow you much room to move and a desperate little noise makes its way from your throat as he teases you with everything you want so close yet so far. 

"Use your big girl words," he prompts gently, tilting his head so that it rests on your inner thigh. "I need to know that you want this."

"I do," you whimper immediately, trying to find solace in tweaking one of your nipples for some sort of pleasurable reprieve. All that dignity you'd been trying to preserve goes out the window. "I want you so bad, Leon. I can't take it anymore–please, please."

"Good girl," he purrs, all sultry and seductive. 

You choke on a gasp when his lips close around your folds, sucking sharply and swirling his tongue in your clit roughly. Instinctively, your hips break free and shy away from his touch, but Leon has none of it and merely pulls you back down to keep attacking your poor cunt. You moan freely, hand tugging on his hair as he laps up your arousal like a dying man and when his eyes flick up to meet yours, the fire in your belly flares.

You cry out his name, unable to vocalize or convey just how good he was making you feel. You've never had this before–this attention and euphoria.

Leon's head nods into you as his tongue fucks you deeper and you squirm under his ministrations, pushing against his face in vain as if he could grant you more than he could. He sinks his middle finger into your wet heat, tongue circling on your clit as he pumps in and out of you. The noises your pussy makes when he adds his ring finger and starts rocking them in and out of you would almost be embarrassing if you weren't so focused solely on how he was making you feel.

He eats you out like this would be his last meal, savoring the taste of you on his tongue as he fingerfucks you brutally. Experimentally, he curls his fingers up and you squeal, babbling incoherently and just settling on begging him to let you go. You can feel it building up just as he brushes against a spot deep inside you that makes you ascend, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure pricks tears in your eyes. 

He moans appreciatively, sending vibrations throughout your whole body and as you grind desperately against him. He keeps you as still as he can manage, but you're not a world-class agent for nothing. Even as Leon tries to control the thrusting of your hips upward, he also has to work on keeping your legs spread open in case you crush his head in between your thighs. 

Maybe he wouldn't object to it.

Leon pulls away, watching his fingers disappearing into you with a nonexistent resistance, cooing over your whimpers. "Does that feel good, sweet thing? Fuck, you taste amazing."

You keen at his words, face blazing hot as he momentarily takes the time to rub his wet fingers all across your folds so that cool air kisses between your thighs. "Leon!"

"You say my name so prettily," he sighs erotically, pushing his fingers back into you and scissoring harshly as he's knuckle-deep. "You gonna let me stretch you out? Gonna let me fuck you so good, all you can think about is my name?"

"Please," you whine again, and you have a feeling you'd be asking him for a lot tonight. Trying to think of any way to speed up the process so you can get what you really wanted, you whisper desperately, "Baby, I need you inside of me."

"Fuck," he hisses, voice gravelly as he begs. "Let me fuck you, angel. Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

Your legs spread even wider as he works on getting his jeans off, and you eye the happy trail that takes route from his belly button and disappears into the waistband of his boxers. He's leanly muscular, though he's nothing short of attractive to you. 

To think that only a couple weeks ago, you would've killed yourself before even thinking about having sex with Leon Kennedy. Now, you think you would offer up yourself to whatever god existed just to be able to have this again–to be able to have him again. This vulnerable moment where all he wanted was to make you feel good and to hear you scream his name is something that has come straight out of your fantasies.

Fantasies during nights where you thought about touching yourself because of him but holding back because trying to hold back your noises while the man was literally sleeping in the same room was a horrendous idea. All that time you thought about what he would do to you and craving a touch you never thought you would get is paying off as he eyes you hungrily from above, licking the slick you'd left off of his fingers and palming the obvious tent in his boxers.

"You're staring," he comments slyly and you roll your eyes.

"And you're thinking about me," you accuse.

A smirk grows on his face, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he shuffles down the waistband of his underwear only slightly but just enough so you can see the implications of his sculpted v-line. 

"How did you know?" Leon hums and you blush furiously as if that persistent heat could burn any hotter. 

You turn your face away, unable to hold eye contact without getting flustered all over again. "Take it off before I do it for you, asshole."

"Would you?" He croons and you hide your face in your hands from the embarrassment of his unspoken words. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, sweetheart."

It doesn't feel like you're adults right now, but rather two stupid teens getting up to something they shouldn't and acting like they were grown ups. It doesn't help the fact that you've had a playground rivalry for who knows how long, something so childish that you can't believe you'd let your icy emotions get the better of you for all those years. You can't help but wonder if this is something you could have had if you hadn't been so blind-eyed by the J.I.E. 

You feel the mattress shift beneath you and you pull your hands away from your eyes just in time to see Leon throw his discarded boxers somewhere else in the room, but it doesn't take long for your eyes to trail down. Leon's cock stands stiffly at attention, already leaking precum from the angry red tip that he hadn't even touched yet. Your mouth waters, and your hand twitches to wrap around it though you haven't had this experience for maybe over a decade. 

"See something you want?" He teases, though the words barely reach your ears as he climbs back to hover over you. 

You're crazy, and you know it by the way the words fall from your lips without a second thought. "Yeah. Was it from just…?"

His cockiness fades for a moment and his eyes soften, a genuine smile spreading across his features and lighting up his already-flushed face. "You're incredibly sexy when you're enjoying yourself, princess." You startle, and he laughs lowly, pecking your cheek. "Liked that one, huh?"

Leon kisses you deeply and you moan upon tasting yourself on his tongue as he feels up your torso and wipes a thumb over your breast. Blindly, you feel down his stomach, appreciating the definition of his well-deserved abs, and finally get a shaking hand around his dick. The action elicits a rich groan from him, even though you've barely even touched him. 

You slide your thumb across his slit, beading wetness sliding down your palm and providing the moisture you needed to stimulate him just right. Your motions aren't smooth by any means, and Leon can probably tell that you're not used to this, but he must be getting something out of it by the way his mouth drops open and his eyes screw shut with that beautiful blush spreading across his skin like wildfire. 

"Careful," he warns, but it ends with a guttural moan when your fingers brush delicately across his balls. "Shit, you're gonna make me go insane."

"It's payback, baby," you simper, groaning when he runs a finger up your folds in punishment. In revenge, you pump your hand a little faster around his length and you can feel the throbbing veins pushing into your palm. 

Leon pulls your wrist away, and you go to protest, wanting to give him more like he'd given you, but he shakes his head and cuts you off with a well-meaning kiss. "We'll do that another time, doll. Right now, it's about you."

"But-"

"C'mon," he cradles your face so gently that the words die on your tongue. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm right here–I'm not going anywhere. Not not, not ever."

His words cause your emotions to soar, tears leaking vulnerably from your lashes and he wipes them away gently with the pads of his thumbs. Nobody ever stays like he promises and the threat of him breaking that vow hangs precariously in your mind on whether you'll truly take it to heart or not. All around you is him, hands on your body and voice floating richly in your ears. Could you have this again and again? Would he stay long enough to let you?

"Don't leave," you beg pathetically, looking up at him through shamefully teary eyes. "Just don't go."

"I promise," his forehead presses against yours as he whispers vows under the cover of this private moment with just the two of you. "I promise."

You lock your legs around his waist and pull him downward so that his cock taps impatiently against your stomach and Leon quickly gets the hint as he reaches down to pump himself a couple times in preparation. He kisses you deeply, passionately, as he lines up with your entrance and the weight of anticipation causes all the blood to rush to your head. He grinds for an agonizing moment, dick sliding between your folds tantalizingly slow before he finally gives in.

The head of his cock presses into your cunt and your mouth drops open, skin flushing as you pull him closer to get your lips on his to muffle the desperate sounds you make as he sinks inch by agonizing inch into you. Your thoughts scatter until nothing but Leon fills them and your heart beats marathons in your chest.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he pushes further into you as you adjust to feeling him inside of you. It's been literal years since you've last had sex and though you'd never expected it to be with Leon, it feels a lot more sentimental and pleasurable than the affairs you'd had with past partners.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," Leon groans out, rolling his hips so that he bottoms out and the euphoria washes over you so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

"Le–on," his name falls brokenly from your lips, head spinning as you glance down and spot the outline of him bulging from your skin. 

Leon's forearms land on either side of your head, his nose bumping yours as his lidded eyes search yours. "Say it again. Say my name again, sweet thing." 

Fucking hell, his nicknames were going to be the death of you. 

"Leon–" you cry out when he sharply thrusts once, twice, then slowly begins setting a pace that has you seeing stars. As he adjusts to being inside of you, his speed increases in increments. You allow yourself to be loud, because right now, you could care less about dignity when Leon was just getting started.

His hips slam against you harshly, and he has you almost screaming when you can feel your plush walls hugging every vein and definition of his cock that he drags through you sweetly. His balls clap noisily against your skin and just the sound of it alone was enough to get you high and ever so closer to that sweet release. Leon's lips land on yours, kissing you roughly and the euphoria you were gifted from him abusing your hole was enough to keep you on cloud nine for at least a week. 

"Do you know how much I thought of this?" Leon grunts out, moving down so he can kiss the skin behind your ear affectionately. "Getting to fuck you so good that you don't remember anything but my name?"

His words make you whine and writhe beneath him until his hands hold your hips down so he can continue jackhammering into you at that relentless pace. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix bruisingly and the fact that he's so deep inside of you is enough to leave you absolutely dripping. 

"Leon–fuck, fuck!" You cry out as he folds one of your legs up and settles your knee into the crook of his elbow, using that leverage to fuck your sweet cunt even harder. 

"All mine," he mumbles, pussy drunk and caught in a brain fog. "So fucking beautiful and all for me, yeah?"

You barely manage to hum out an affirmation but the torturous pleasure he subjects you to makes it sound borderline pornographic. Your thoughts scatter in the wind and only leave you enough sense to rack your fingers through his hair as he rocks his cock in and out of your hole, addicted to the feeling as you lose yourselves within each other. 

Higher and higher Leon takes you, licking up the column of your throat and biting hickeys into the skin of your neck as if to mark you as his. The pleasure burns brightly, a traveling firework climbing up to the sky in hope of exploding outward. This sensation–something you've never had before–is what makes you obsessed and afraid to ever let go. All those years that people came into your life and left without prompting is negated by the fact that he's stayed.

Leon stretches you into a full-on mating press, your knees kissing your chest as he fucks you deeper than before. You sob brokenly, clasping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life as he pistons his hips harder into your dripping heat. The weight of him on your body as he works you both up to your heights drives you crazy and you can feel all that tension building up–that firework ready to burst.

"You know how pretty you looked?" He grunts out, working his thrusts as if he could go any deeper than he already was and you squeak as he gives your tit a slap. "All dolled up and wearing that pretty little dress I picked out for you? Fuck, I was so close to taking you that night."

"Leon," you whimper as those clear blue eyes bore into yours, hooded with lust and swirling with more emotion and passion than you've ever seen before. "Shit, if that's what you really think, why didn't you do this sooner?"

"Do what, sweet thing? Fuck this pretty pussy 'til I was rearranging your guts?" 

You whine submissively at his words, tugging him closer, and hiding your face in his neck. His cock ploughs into your shopping heat, fucking you like the two of you are animals. Leon swallows your gasp, tongue lolling out to beg for air until he captures your mouth and steals all the breath from your lungs. His tongue wrestles your one into submission before pulling back, a trail of saliva connecting your moist lips. 

"I wanted to," he admits vulnerably, "so many times we were alone–wanted to bring you to a quiet little place where we could forget about the missions and rivalries and show you what you were missing.."

You weren't going to last long if he kept revealing secrets like this was some sort of steamy confessional.

"I thought you hated me," you gasp, keening when his pace slows and begins favoring hitting you deep and hard over speed. Your eyes roll upward before squeezing shut and just revealing the feeling of him all around you in the best case of sensory overload. "I thought you wanted me dead where I stood."

He tilts your chin up, rutting deep into you that makes you see stars. "That cocky little girl who was unkillable, maybe. But, you showed yourself to me and there you were."

"But, you-"

"I didn't want to scare you off," he sighs, something soft that contradicts the way he's still balls deep inside you. "I was ready to kill you when you landed on my doorstep at that shitty motel, but…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose you."

There's a gap where he trails off, looking into your eyes as you realize that all while you scorned him and loved him, he was going through the same tortuous emotions as you. Those encounters, shooting bullets in each other's directions and painting scars through wounds was all one-sided. Leon knows you genuinely hated him in a past life as he hated you too, wished he was dead in the same way he was so close to putting a bullet through your skull, and yet he's still here.

"I did hate you." You bury your nose into his neck. "I preyed on your downfall for so many nights and loathed that you kept me alive just to prove a point."

"And now?"

You open your eyes, looking past through tears that have started to prick your lash line. Your chest swells with an emotion you haven't felt in a long while, reigniting flames on a piece of cold coal that hasn't felt the kiss of fire for so long. This feeling that has caused you so much conflict before has a name on your heart, your mind, then your tongue. 

"Now?" You reach up, brushing bangs away from his moist forehead, and bring him closer like you were telling him a secret. Your lips ghost over his as you answer. "Fuck, I love you, Leon."

That declaration seems to be the breaking point as he squishes you between his body and mattress, sinking his weight onto you as he desperately begins pounding you into the bedsheets. You moan loudly, unbidden as you relish in the feeling of Leon and trailing your fingernails down his back in angry red lines. The pleasure tips you into overdrive, and you almost scream as you feel yourself just beginning to tip over the edge.

“Leon, I,” you stutter and his hips never break stride, seemingly spurred on by the implication of your words hot and heavy in your ear, “I’m close, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You choke on your breath as he wedges a hand between your bodies, rubbing furiously at your clit while muffling your sobs with an open-mouthed kiss. 

“Cum for me,” he pleads, eyes squeezing shut like you were tormenting him. “Cum on my cock baby, and I’ll cum for you too.”

Your head slams back onto the pillow, gasping and choking for air as you finally crash and that firework explodes outward. Your mind reels as you see white, gushing hotly around Leon who’s still chasing after his own high. You take the overstimulation, tears running freely now as you hold on for dear life he uses you to achieve his own orgasm, his grunts and breathy moans making home inside your memory as the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. You call out his name like a chant–a mantra, sweeter than any prayer you’ve ever had to utter.

When he pulls you in his arms, settles his full weight onto you, and kisses you so desperately like you’d disappear the moment he opened his eyes, you know he’s reached it.

Leon rams his hips so that he drives as far as he could into you, cum shooting white hot ropes and painting your walls white. You choke on your own breath as warmth spreads through your body, addicted already to the feeling of his cum spurting inside. You're mesmerized as you watch as his face pinches into something so beautiful and pretty to watch, and you wish you could ingrain the look of him coming undone into your head permanently. 

Nothing but hot pants fill the air as he lifts himself from your frame, hands bracketing either side of your head as he pushes himself up to get a good look at you, blissed out on his cock and almost fucked stupid. He brushes fair from your forehead and kisses you lightly in a deep contrast to the way he had nearly bruised your lips as he came.

You shift and he winces, slamming his hands on your hips to hold you still as he stays inside of you. 

"Stop," he breathes out as if it pained him.

"Leon? What are you-"

"Fuck–just please, I need–" he gasps, slightly moist forehead coming to rest on yours, "You're so good, baby. Just let me stay like this for a bit–just a second."

Your emotions take a hit as he begs you to stay despite the oversensitivity combating the need to be as close as possible to you. "Alright," you whisper, though a pressing question comes to the forefront of your mind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Why did…Why’d you kiss me?"

He laughs, all gentle and real right from his stomach and it sends shivers down your spine. You want to draw the sight of his laugh lines into your permanent memory. "Of all the things that just happened, that's what you want to know?"

"Mhm," you affirm, having no strength to try and fight him on the matter. He's left you breathless and tired, and frankly, you just want to know what’s on his mind.

"Well, that's a bit of a stupid question." He nudges your chin up with the crook of his index finger and those blue crystalline eyes catch yours to sweep you off your feet again. "I kissed you because I wanted to, sweetheart.”

You breathe, working on keeping it level as he finally slips out of you, mixed fluids leaking out of your spent cunt upon not being plugged anymore. Leon leans back, admiring his work and laughs to himself. His eyes trail up your body and your gazes connect. You find him looking at you, searching for something like he usually does, but this time, he finally seems he found what he’s looking for.

“Did I let you find it?” you ask tiredly.

“Hm?”

“Back at the cafe,” you explain with exhaustion lacing your voice. Leon gets up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, and you hear the sound of running water. When he comes back out, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge that was provided from the hotel and returns to the bedside, running the warm cloth against your oversensitive skin. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs to show he’s still listening even as he carefully wipes down the inside of your thighs. “What about it?”

“You said you were looking for something, but I wasn’t letting you find it. Did I do it?”

Leon pauses in his actions, takes a good look at you though you don’t know what’s happening in that complicated head of his. Nonetheless, he smiles and crows feet crinkle his eyes as he leans over to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “You did,” he affirms sweetly, then once he deems you clean enough, he says, “You did good, baby.”

The praise goes straight to your head as you try uprighting yourself, but almost miserably failing before Leon catches you. One of his arms curls around your rigid upper back and the other tucks beneath your knees as he easily lifts you and carries you to the pull-out bed that he’s been sleeping on since you got here. Gently, he deposits you on the mattress with the water bottle before beginning to wipe himself down. 

You take gentle sips, watching him as he finishes up and joins you at your side on the bed, sinking down in the much cleaner sheets and tossing the fabric over you. Quickly, you fall into place with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and legs intertwined. One of his arms lazily tosses over your waist as he buries his nose into your hair.

Never before has your heart felt so full and alive before, pumping strongly and emotionally just for the man in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling sleep weigh heavily on your mind. “For everything.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying,” he jokes, hand running cautiously up and down your back. You shudder as he feels along every scar with expert care, but you find it's not as bad as you thought it would be. “We still have a long way ahead of us.”

“We do,” you agree thoughtfully before hesitating. “Do…you feel the same way I do?”

Leon kisses the crown of your head affectionately, polling you tighter and more securely against him. “Oh, I adore you, sweet girl. You’ve got me at your beck and call, I can promise you that.”

“Okay,” you settle down, finally at peace. “You’ll stay?”

He tilts your head up, making you stare into those blue eyes that have carried you through so many years of torture and conflicted love. Leon Kennedy, this masterpiece of a man weighed down by years of his job who has tried to kill you and in turn survived your attempts to slit his throat wide open loves you. Even when you hated him, you couldn’t stay away as if the stars and the universe had destined for you to always be connected.

Maybe this is what it means to be in love–to be devoted to someone that you need then like you need the air to breathe.

“I promise,” Leon says, sleep edging on his voice warmly but still persisting to lay your fears to rest. “You’ll have to kill me to stay away from you, (Y/n). I’m yours, whenever and wherever you need, no matter the time of day. I’m staying for you because I love you.”

What a strange thing it is to be in love. But, perhaps in this moment, where you feel so incredibly warm and rich like a healthy fire with plenty of fuel to go on forever, you decide it’s not so bad. 

No longer does your heart stay frozen and bitter from years of misuse, but who would’ve guessed that the man who you swore to hate for the rest of your days would be the one to finally melt it down into a blazing fire of emotion?

Far away, miles away from you and Leon, the blizzard that had forced you under the same roof all those weeks ago dissipates, finally satisfied.

[haleyboook]

Sexiest man alive’s photographer wife pt.l

Chris Evans is to be named People’s 2022 sexiest man alive, what he and his wife don’t know is that his photographer for the magazine is his very own wife. Who better to give the smoldering sexy look to than his wife?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Yes I am still scrambling around London trying to make it back in time for Miles birthday party. The models I’m dealing with here believe I’m a complete ninny. If only they knew the real stars I’ve photographed. Tell me why I agreed to this shoot again?”

He smiles on the other end of the video chat saying “It was something new. You wanted to broaden your portfolio.”

I grumble saying “Biggest mistake ever. Never let me make another like this okay?”

He chuckles saying “I think you’ve spent too much time in Europe, you’re beginning to speak like them. Ninny? What does that even mean?”

I stifle a laugh saying “Gah.. I’m so sorry. I should be home. With you and Dodger. Not here.”

“Hey, we understand. You’re killing it there and we’re couch potatoes while you’re gone. After shooting I’m exhausted.”

I nod saying “How’s the shooting for the red one going?”

“Good. I love Dwayne. I know I said I didn’t know if he’d be weird but he’s so funny and so nice. You’d love him. You need to meet him soon.”

“I’ll be home soon. And I won’t leave again, for as long as humanly possible.”

He nods saying “Sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had.”

I shake my head saying “You look tired. I am screwing up your sleep routine calling you this late. I hate this stupid time difference.”

He shakes his head saying “I can’t and will not go to sleep until we have our nightly calls. You know that.”

I frown and say “Sometimes I hate my job.”

“But, you love it. You know that.”

I shrug as I feel tears produce, “it’s just so difficult being away from you for so long. I don’t know anyone here. My assistants are French and talk terribly about me to each other. And the models think I’m a servant to them. I miss America. I miss you. I miss home.”

His eyes widen and he says “It’ll be done in no time. We’ll be here, waiting. Just do what you’ve gotta do. I can send Scott over if you’d like. He begs to go to Europe all the time.”

I smile as I wipe my tears saying “If he’s my best bet, yeah. But he’s not my first choice in Evans’ visiting me.”

He nods saying “I know how much you love my mom but I think she’s pretty busy in Boston, even though…”

I laugh through the tears at his efforts to make me feel better, my assistant quickly calls for me as I look to the laptop

“Miss Klava is requesting you to do… your job. No offense.”

I sigh as I look to her saying “Klava was supposed to be on set of the shoot an hour ago. She doesn’t run the show here. Get her in makeup and make her look like she cares to be here. I’ll be there soon enough.”

Quickly she leaves as I groan and Chris mellows as I shake my head saying “They can never not interrupt our alone time, can they?”

He shrugs saying “Big shoot day. I know you need to get out there now.”

I look down to my watch saying “No. No, tell me more about what’s going on with you.”

“I got a call from People magazine actually..”

Klava pushes her way into my room, shouting in a language I don’t understand, pointing towards my laptop and huffing and puffing.

Making a whole tantrum in front of me

I shake my head saying “You should be in hair and makeup! You’re so lucky I don’t find literally any other model to replace you!”

She shakes her head saying “I told you I model best. But you waste time with this! This ridiculous device.”

I look to my laptop screen, seeing Chris’ flushed expression. I glare at Klava saying “You can’t barge into my private office-”

My assistant says “She refuses to go into makeup, she claims she looks perfect as is.”

I sigh saying “Get Rachel, send Klava to Wes while I figure out how yo handle this.”

I look to my laptop saying “I’m sorry, Chris. I will call you later. Alright?”

He nods and says “I love you. Good luck with Klava.”

I smile to him quickly, saying “I love you too. Good luck with shooting.”

“You too.”

The call ends and I spend the rest of the day scrambling around, attempting to position and direct models that are nearly more than a foot taller me in heels to do as I request

I didn’t get around to calling Chris again, but I had enough time to check my email before I ultimately let my head hit my pillow and pass out

A rep from people magazine have reached out, asking for a call to speak about a job offer

I set plans and fall asleep with my phone unplugged and with a low battery

Chris messages me as I sleep, giving me updates throughout his day

Only going through to my dead phone

The sun shines in my face and I abruptly sit up, scrambling to read the time “please don’t be late..”

I look to the clock on the microwave, groaning as I rush out of the room.

Another painful day of dealing with models begins as I plug my phone in, missing my daily call with Chris

Missing the email telling me I would receive a call from People magazine’s Zoe.

Rachel pushes my ringing phone to my ear as it answers “Honey, I know I missed our usual call but-”

“Oh? Sorry, do I have the wrong number?”

I set my camera down, grabbing my phone confused saying “Sorry.. thought you were my husband. My assistant didn’t tell me it was a business call. Who is this?”

“Zoe from People.”

“Oh! Hi, sorry. I’ve been swamped here in London. What can I help you with?”

She cheerily says “As you probably know, People announces the sexiest man alive yearly with a large photo shoot and article. And we need a photographer for this years 2022 sexiest man alive. I’ve been following your work for awhile and wow… you’re work is stunning. My employers and I would like to offer you the job.”

My eyes widen and I say “Who would I be working with? Who won?”

Zoe pauses and says “2022’s sexiest man alive..”

I smile and say “Ah.. so confidential for now. When will the photo shoot take place?”

“Soon, as soon as you have an opening actually.”

Debating taking on more work I say “Who’s in the running for the job besides me?”

Zoe pauses saying “We were hoping it’d be you. We have a few people we’ve used in the past but my boss really enjoyed your photos from the Met gala earlier this year. You took some phenomenal photos.”

I pause and say “I don’t finish this job for another few weeks and I- I need to speak to my husband first before I accept another job.”

“We’d be willing to be flexible with times. And we know the model would be too.”

Looking to the models in front of me I say “Can we shoot in Boston?”

Zoe happily says “Yes, wherever you choose to photograph!”

I nod saying “Alright, I’m in. I just need to reassure my husband. I can just do the editing from this job from home. I’m almost wrapped up here. I will send you some dates that work for me, you pick one and let’s set some solid plans okay?”

“Perfect, I’ll expect your email. Thank you!”

I wrap up the call, dropping my phone and saying “Alright, this is the last day of shooting and none of you will have to hear my harping voice again. Just cooperate with me.”

Sending my unedited shots to my higher ups at the magazine I request finishing the final product in the states

With some convincing it’s approved and I call Chris on my taxi ride to dinner

“Didn’t think you’d get some time away to call me.”

I huff a breath in response saying “Yeah. I didn’t either. From the looks of your texts it sounds like you’re enjoying filming on red one.”

“I’m actually about to go meet someone for breakfast. Would you mind if you just texted me what’s up?”

I pause and mask my voice saying “Yeah of course! I’ll talk to you later.”

I hear a couple different voices in the background, one being Scott shouting “tell her I’m booking my flight immediately!”

I smile and Chris ends the call with a hushed goodbye. I sigh and the taxi driver says “Where to?”

“The airport please.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

next>>

Also make sure to like, comment, and re-blog please!

comment to be added to taglist!! ♥️

[stuckinapril]

i’m finding it so difficult to detach myself and cut off a person who i am very much still in love with but who has repeatedly hurt me and strung me along only to dump me when reality hits and they remember im a real person with flaws and emotions and not some fantasy they created

i’m about to be really mean but this person doesn’t give nearly as much of a fuck about you as you do about them. you’re probably romanticizing them, playing a highlight reel of their best qualities in your head, rewinding all the good moments you might’ve shared w them. meanwhile they weighed your best qualities, replayed your best memories in their head, considered the value you add to their life as a person—and still decided it wasn’t enough and chose to dump you.

this was my biggest blind spot when i was going through things like friendship fallouts or my breakup w my ex. i was like but how can i live without them now!! as if they didn’t choose to severe our connection w their whole chest. you might be like “but they might’ve really struggled to do it” and it’s like okay, but they still chose to go through w it. their reasoning to them was more important than having you in their life, regardless of the tremendous energy and emotion that got expended into the decision. that or it took no energy at all, which just means that they were playacting their care for you and never actually gave a fuck. far more sinister.

from the way you described them, they’re still not mature enough to realize that love is hard work. that it’s not just convenience and feeling good all the time. why do you want someone like that in your life? someone who always goes into fight or flight whenever push comes to shove? not sustainable whatsoever. they literally did you a favor by walking out of your life. they saved you more wasted time and effort and pain that would have no doubt stemmed from their avoidant, erratic, wishywashy nature.

you have to get into the habit of not wanting people who don’t want you, whatever the context. i feel like a bit of narcissism is healthy when it comes to this bc i legit don’t care what a person’s attributes are; to me that’s such a fundamental difference in thinking between us bc i’m the dopest bitch i know. and they still don’t want me in their life ?? like ik what i bring to the table and that would be such flawed, ludicrous logic to me. it just gives me the ick and makes me lose interest in them as a person instantly, even if they were great listeners or had a good music taste or were funny or played the guitar really well. doesn’t matter, they still were shortsighted enough to think a life without me in it was a good choice. romantic and platonic breakups do bother me, simply bc i’m very honest w my love and i genuinely value the people in my life, but these days i’m not hung up on anyone for more than a day bc i will never want someone who doesn’t want me. never never never. i don’t have the compulsive urge to make people who don’t like me like me. i have such a don’t let the door slam you on your way out mentality about it. i’ll simply find someone who’s funny and a good listener and plays the guitar well and still cares enough about me not to dump me when it gets hard. doesn’t have to be one or the other.

also do yourself a favor and don’t fill the gaps for them or try to guess what’s going on in their minds. they dumped you? okay they don’t care about you. they cut you off? okay they don’t care about you. they’re not trying to send you subliminal messages on their ig story about how much they still care—and on the very small chance that they are, you shouldn’t want that. you shouldn’t want someone whose peak effort when it comes to you is posting a sad quote about how lonely they are without actually putting the effort into approaching you, apologizing, owning up to their mistakes. until they actually act on it, their feelings pretty much irrelevant & it’s best to assume they just don’t give a fuck. you don’t want someone in your life who always prioritizes their comfort over maintaining their connection w you. ruthlessly remind yourself of that and move on to someone who doesn’t just give you breadcrumbs, if anything at all.

[thepinklink]

@selkies-song I wrote this for you when you weren’t feeling well, and I intended it to be longer but ran into some troubles. Regardless I hope it brightens your day 🩷

"Legend, can you get the pitchfork?"

It's a simple ask, but his headache filters it through layers of honey, so that by the time he registers what's been asked of him, Malon is watching him with concern.

"Is everything alright, Veteran?"

Legend swallows, words caught in a dry, gummy throat.

“Yeah.” He rasps. “I’m fine.”

He turns to walk back to the barn, but a dizzy spell freezes him in his tracks, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Goddesses, was it always this hot out? Where was the cloud cover? Hadn’t it been overcast this morning? The light is making his head hurt even worse.

“Veteran. You’re ill.”

It’s not a question.

“What? No, I said I’m fine.” He scowls at the ground. Farore, it’s hot.

“You’re clearly not, dear. You’ve been sluggish and silent all morning. Look at you, the only thing keeping you on your feet is the Hero’s Spirit.”

“I’m fine. Just tired, nothing I haven’t handled before.” He is tired. He’s also in pain, but Malon doesn’t have to know that, and besides. He’s always in pain, the result of years of adventuring without always being able to take the time to care for himself or heal properly.

“I’m fine.” He repeats again, and with a little more firmness.

Malon reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can. His skin is freezing.

“You’re cold.”

He frowns at her. “What? No, I’m—it’s blazing out here.”

She frowns back. “You don’t feel cold?”

“No!”

Malon places her hand against his forehead.

“Well no wonder, you’ve got a fever. And look at you, all glassy-eyed and pale.”

Legend pulls away, scowl returning, wrought with anger at being cornered.

“I’m fine.” He hisses, insistent.

“You’re sick,” Malon replies, equally unyielding. They stand for a few minutes, glaring each other down, before Malon’s gaze is drawn over Legend’s shoulder. Legend follows it, and winces as he sees Time approaching. Time will side with Malon, he has no doubt.

“…I came to inquire about dinner on the Champion’s behalf, but I see I have stumbled into an argument.”

“Of a sort,” Malon tells him tensly.

“That does not inspire much confidence.” Time takes his place beside his wife. “It’s not too heated, is it?”

“Quite, actually, it’s got a fever.” Malon looks up forlornly at her husband, and then back at Legend again. “Our Veteran is sick.”

“Oh?” Time raises an eyebrow, eye now trained on Legend, who does not meet them. Time doesn’t say anything, but somehow he pulls all the information out of Legend faster than Malon did, and with less effort.

“I’m fine,” Legend snaps defensively, feeling raw under Time’s one-eyed gaze. He’s getting sick of the phrase. “I swear, I’m just a little tired. It rained yesterday, made my joints hurt and stuff, I’m just feeling the aftereffects right now. It’s fine.”

“Legend.”

It’s just his name. Not even his name, his nickname. And yet, the way Time says it, Legend knows immediately that he’s lost the battle.

“You have put up an excellent fight up to this point, however, it is truly bordering on pathetic.”

It hurts. Probably because it’s true. It gets worse when Time steps up next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and lowering his voice.

“I know it is not easy to remember when you’re safe. To stop pushing yourself out of habit, out of that underlying pressure to keep going because that is what you have learned. To keep going, because the fate of Hyrule is in your hands, and you cannot afford to waste so much as a second. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to learn that, and I’m sorry that because of it, you don’t know how to recognize and take advantage of situations like this. Situations where such pressure does harm, not good. You’re in a safe place, Link. Hyrule’s fate is not is your hands, not in a way that pushing yourself will help. You are not alone anymore. There are people who will pick up the slack while you recover. There is time to heal, so take it. There is strength in recognizing when you are weak, and stepping back to change it.”

Legend desperately wishes Time were not so wise. Suddenly, his fighting against Malon feels silly and rude. He doesn’t even really know why he was arguing with her, what it would have accomplished. He nods numbly. It was hot a second ago, but the clouds have returned and in their shade, he’s cold.

“M’sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be. It’s a hard lesson, one we heroes are terribly unprepared to learn.” Time squeezes his shoulder gently before releasing him. “Now, go ahead and let Malon walk you to the house. And I say that because if you don’t walk, she will carry you. I had to learn that the hard way.”

Time chuckles and Malon huffs.

“You heroes and your selfless tendencies.” She turns to Legend, expression softening. “Come on, dear. You’ll feel better with a hot cup of tea in hand.”

[nightghoul381]

No Room to Breathe~ Ellis Twilight

Chapter 1

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

No Warnings for this part, but it does become NSFW in later parts, so MDNI

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

Victor: “Well then, here’s the question.”

Victor: “The third glass from the top and furthest left in the common room. What happens if you touch it?”

Kate / Ellis: “A hidden armory appears.”

Victor: “Yes, very good answer.”

(Waaaaah…!)

The moment he touched the glass, a shelf appeared and the common room transformed into an armory.

On principle, only the members of Crown and I were allowed to use the weapons Victor possessed.

Victor: “It’s so earnest and sweet of you to ask to borrow a weapon for your next mission, it almost brings tears to my eyes.”

Ellis: “Can I take whatever I want?”

Victor: “Of course you can! What do you want? Oh, this is a new tranquilizer gun. Once it puts you to sleep, you won’t wake up for 24 hours!”

Victor: “It can be used on either lions or people. And this one—”

Ellis: “These handcuffs… I’ve never seen ones like this before.”

Kate: “Really? How do they work?”

Ellis: “Kate, can I see your hand… I wonder if this is it.”

Kate: “Oh, I see. That’s how you use them.

Victor: “So, this one is…what!? Wait, what!?”

Victor: “What’s that in your hands, no way…”

Ellis: “…?”

Victor yelled as he looked at the handcuffs connecting one of my hands and one of Ellis’s hands.

Victor: “These are handcuffs that never come off after you put them on-----Oh!”

--dining room

(Th-This is one hell of a situation.)

Liam heard the commotion and pulled us into the dining room saying “Al is a master lock-picker”

Alfons: “You’re fools to fall for handcuffs that can never come off again.”

Kate: “Hey, regardless of what we’re stupid enough to do, just take it off for now. Please.”

As the rest of Crown looked on, Alfons messed around with the handcuffs, looking up after 5 seconds.

Alfons: “This is impossible.”

Kate: “Huh? Please, try a little harder.”

Alfons: “I’m a genius at giving up. Isn’t it foolish to waste effort on unnecessary things.”

Alfons: “I surrender, I surrender.”

(Th-that’s…)

(Huh? It seems like Victor and I are the only ones who have been panicking for a while now.)

Ellis: “…Is it really so bad if it stays this way?”

Kate: “Huh?”

Ellis: “With anyone else, it would be a bit of a problem, but…”

Ellis: “If it’s with you, I don’t mind staying connected.”

I blinked at the unexpectedly sweet words being thrown at me.

Ellis: “You feel the same with me… right?”

Kate: “It’s…. The, uh, I don’t like…. I don’t.”

Ellis: “I see. Fufu, good.”

Victor: *sobbing* “……Oh……OH…..Oh….”

Victor: “This is a grave situation. I can’t believe that my mismanagement has deprived two people of their freedom!”

Liam: “…Victor, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

Victor: “So, I’ve decided to call a locksmith I know.”

Victor: “He lives far away, so I’ll be home late. William,”

William: “—ah, I understand. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Victor: “My sweet Kate, Ellis. Wait for me, okay?”

(…Gone like the wind.)

William, who had been watching the situation while drinking his tea, smiled softly.

William: “Kate, Ellis. Crown duties will be relegated until it is removed.”

William: “Think of it as a vacation and spend it as you like.”

Liam: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you instead.”

Kate: “Thank you. Ah, but Ellis, you have work for Jude’s company, right?”

Kate: “You’ll need to tell Jude that you’re taking the day off.”

(It’s dangerous to have business negotiations or collect money while connected.)

Ellis: “Yeah. But, do you think he’ll readily say I can take a break?���

Kate: “Fufu, no way. Not that devil.”

--castle grounds

We went to see Jude who was doing some research in the library…

--library

Jude: “Tch, that doesn’t matter, just do the work.”

(The devil!)

Ellis: “I knew Jude would say that.”

Ellis: “The way you’re talking…Is there something you want us to do?”

Jude: “Do you remember the man who asked to borrow money for investing from me three months ago?”

Ellis: “Ah…that extremely friendly grey-haired man?”

Jude: “Yeah. He stopped his repayments without asking.”

Kate: “Is there some reason why don’t just ignore it?”

Jude: “Are you seriously asking that?”

(Uh….)

Jude: “The circumstances and shit were premeditated. He doesn’t pay people back, just shows up at balls around here and there and has a grand old time.”

Jude: “How dare he break his word, eh?”

After spitting it out, Jude threw something in front of me and Ellis.

Kate: “An invitation to a ball? Could it be…”

Jude: “He’ll be there tonight. Go undercover and collect the money he stole.”

Ellis: “That means Kate is a young lady and I am her servant.”

Kate: “No, that would be suspicious. We’re still connected aren’t we?”

Jude: “They’ll just think overprotective parents put a collar on their daughter.”

Jude: “Or they’ll think yer someone with a taste for that sort of thing.”

(Ngh, That’s the problem! Ah, that’s right!)

Kate: “Well, I also don’t have a high-class dress that a young lady would wear.”

If I told Victor, he’d probably have one ready in a second, but I’ll keep that a secret for now.

Jude: “Haah… yer a very ill-prepared princess.”

Jude, looking really bothered, took something out and ran his pen over it.

Jude: “Hm, If ya got this it’ll be fine.”

Kate: “Uh, a check…and for this much!?”

Kate: “I can’t accept this!”

Jude: “No one said anything about doing it for free. It’s an advance on today’s work.”

Jude: “If it doesn’t work out, you’ll have to pay it back with double the interest. Do yer best.”

Kate: “Eh, h-hey!”

--Crown Castle Hall

(…ugh, I couldn’t refuse.)

Ellis: “Kate, are you okay?”

Kate: “I’m alright. Now that I’ve received the money, I want to do my job properly.”

Kate: “Let’s do our best, Ellis.”

Ellis: “…Fufu.”

Kate: “…?”

Ellis: “I, that part of you… I like it.”

Ellis: “…Maybe it’s a good thing it turned out like this.”

Kate: “…good?”

Ellis: “Yeah. This way, I can be with you all the time.”

When I see the sweet smile on his face, I feel my heart flutter.

(Before, I couldn’t say it clearly)

Kate: “Me too, I’m glad you were the one who was connected to me.”

Ellis: “I see, I’m happy… So, shall we go buy a dress?”

Kate: “Yes, Ellis!”

--Mansion entrance

After I bought a formal evening dress at Harrods,

We stepped into the mansion where the ball was being held.

(Wow, a big mansion… and lots of people.)

While I was stunned by the glittering lights, Ellis held my hand.

Ellis: “Let’s hold hands. It would be difficult if we got separated.”

Kate: “Fufu, we can’t exactly be separated when I’m handcuffed to you.”

Ellis: “I didn’t say it right. So…”

Ellis: “Can I hold your hand, because I want to hold your hand?”

Kate: “……yes.”

(I wonder if he noticed my anxiety… Ellis is as kind as ever.)

When I think about that, I suddenly felt a sense of discomfort.

(Huh? Are we being watched?)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

[mistkisbiggestfan]

Pidge x reader | White Lion - Part I |

A/N: Okay so this has parts of dialogue of "Dangerously Yours", it'll have a part 2, and btw my requests are open! Word count: 2k

You were not ready for failure of any kind. As a white paladin of Voltron your soul mission was to protect other paladins and people around you. A medic was what you were, a brute by nature and a pacifist by force, all you could do was save, even if you tried to charge into battle you were quickly pushed off – back to the sidelines. “Y/N! Get out of here! It’s not a place for a medic!” They yelled. Voltron was fine by itself, no medic was required, you were a so-called “Plan B”, you were useless, healing pods were more handy than a medic. Everyone neglected you, not as a friend of course, but as a valuable fighter and defender of the universe. 

The only one treating you fairly was your love, Pidge. She actually appreciated any kind of help she got from you during and out of battle, that was, to your dismay, cut short. As war with Galra raged on, everyone forgot about any other struggles disregarding the threat across the universe. Soon, Pidge began to share the view about you with other paladins, bit by bit. – You should be more careful! – She said, but quickly, those words turned into. – Just stay out of this Y/N! We don’t have time to waste!

Waste? You thought. Waste? Is that what they see my effort as? A waste..? And like that, the overthinking pursued. No one even noticed you staying out of conversations, blindly following orders, no one noticed because it was making everything easier – Who would have thought that disregarding your feelings would be so convenient? Nobody, that’s why no one realized something was wrong. 

And there you were, in the middle of the ashes of a once proud planet, now left dying and naked of its natural beauty and resources. While the other paladins were fighting a Galra ship, basically above, you were left to seek refugees and help them. People shied away, some openly running out of your sight. You left your weapons hidden, leaving only a red, cross marking on your armor standing out. You looked forward, a camp stood out of the dead surrounding, a medical camp. You quickened your pace, rushing into the tent. 

– Hello? – Everyone sulking in silence suddenly looked up at you in horror, some closing their eyes, as if you were there to collect their soul and send it away from this world. – I saw the crosses on the tent, do you need help? I’m a medic and—-- You were cut off by a few people gasping at your confession. An old, wise looking alien granny rushed over to your side and guided you inside. – We’re glad you came here, indeed we are, but there’s no time! We need to act quick, please, help us. – She looked at you with hope in her eyes, the medical staff, consisting of three other aliens, gazed at you. You just nodded in agreement. 

– Y/N? What’s happening there? – You heard the confused voice of Pidge on your intercom, you muted your mic and popped off your helmet, pushing it into the corner of the medical camp. – Alright, let’s get to work. – You said quietly, no one said a word, they just led you into the other part of the tent. 

In the next hour you operated on at least four people, crushed, stabbed, or just dying in general. You sighed and washed off the sweat from your forehead, you turned to another patient but before that, a middle-aged woman grabbed you by your shoulders. – Please, god, save her. I can’t do it without her, please, you kind people are the only hope we have left. Not even Voltron is here to guard us. – She said breaking down in front of you. – Where were they when we were dying? – She asked, and like that she fell to her knees as one of the other people inside took her away from the place you were operating in. You looked at the girl in front of you, her life was in your hands now. She turned to you and whispered – Don’t blame yourself if I don’t make it, if I- I actually won’t wake up tomorrow, tell that girl that I will watch above her… – She closed her eyes as you ran to save her. 

The battle outside died down, you were sitting under a dimly lit light with a cup of strange coffee in front of you. And like that your mind wandered off. Your helmet beeping obnoxiously. 

Beep. Voltron just missed this place? While they were fighting in the sky, innocent people were dying on land. We could have stopped this, they could have stopped this. Beep. What kind of heroes are we if we can’t even save the people we’re fighting for? Beep. What’s the point in this? Today, I helped more people than I ever did in Voltron… Did they even notice I was gone? Beep. Lord, all of those people had families, lovers, children, lifes to come back to after the war. Beep. You looked up, the beeping seemed to be more frequent then before, you sighed annoyed and turned your intercoms on. You heard a few familiar voices echoing through the mic, your tired and beaten down gaze softened. 

– Y/N? Y/N? Are you there? – You heard the soft voice of Pidge, you smiled for a second at the thought of her. – Ugh, Pidge, come for your food! – Lance shouted in the background. 

– Um, sure, just let me make this one message and—--

– Pidge! Come on, you know how the Mx. Lone Medic Wolf acts like, they’ll be back, please, what’s the worst that could’ve happened? They were on land, no battles you know. 

– I- I guess you’re right, I’m just a bit worried.

– Have you forgotten? They’re not a fighter, it’s not like they could be hurt doing a pointless check up on land.

– Yeah… It doesn’t sit right with me though, the whole “creating a pointless task to get Y/N out of battle” thing, you know?

The rest of the conversation was muffled, you couldn’t keep up with the words leaving their mouths, the sentence left you numb to your surroundings. You heard Pidge shuffle around, presumably standing up and getting out of her room to get food. You stood there frozen, shocked, sitting still and aimlessly staring at the dark abyss in front of you. You felt tears flowing down your face, but you made no noise. Everything was too loud and too quiet at once. You silently took off your helmet and put it in front of you, sitting in the dimly lit room, with cold coffee as your company. Is that what they think about me? You thought. 

Suddenly, someone walked in, their feet shuffling on the floor, you didn’t move, still staring numbly forward. – A- am I interrupting something? – You heard the person say, it was one of the medical staff you worked with today. You stiffened and spoke up. – No, not at all, but I must ask, why are you here? – You grabbed your mug and relaxed into your chair, the person walked in and sat slightly on the table in the small room. 

– I just wanted to thank you for today, many great people were saved because of you. – The seemingly way older woman told you. Your head dropped to the table as you hid your face with your palms. She looked at you, worried.

– But too many were lost, tell me, what was this effort for? What did I change? – You said, your voice cracking. She walked over to you and put her hand on your shoulder. 

– You saved lifes. – She said.

– Did I? How sure can I be that they’re going to make it to see the daylight? 

– You can’t be sure, all you can do is wait. – That left you speechless, not out of rudeness, just purely out of things to say. It seemed like all the words you could muster out were said, but then, she spoke up again.

– I’m sorry but I came here to ask you something… – She said quietly, you nodded for her to go on. – Are you, by any chance, part of team Voltron?

– I- I’m, yeah, yeah I’m part of Voltron… – You said, almost ashamed. But why? You thought. 

– I saw your reaction to that young lady breaking down in front of you, and I wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t go hard on yourself. – She said, almost like an older sister giving you great advice. 

– What are you trying to tell me..? – You almost cried out, looking at her with your bloodshot eyes, gazing at her through the gaps between your fingers. 

– There’s really no way of winning this, you know. You can't fight woth yourself forever. – She said, taking her hand off your shoulder, bitterly smiling at you, with such sympathy you haven’t seen in a while. – Take your time, kid. 

The door shut behind you, the ear-splitting silence was killing you, your breathing stopped for a second when you heard Pidge’s voice on the intercom. I didn’t turn off my mic. 

– Y/N..? – You heard heartbroken Pidge on the other side of the mic. – Y/N please… I know you’re there. 

– Have you heard everything? – You asked, feeling drops of sweat rolling down your back, awaiting for an answer. 

– I- I did, and did you..? – She asked with hope that you didn’t, your answer crushed the little hope she had left.

– Yes, I did. 

– Look, Y/N, I’m sorry, please just listen, I- can explain—-

– No! I can read you like a book now, you're not so wise after all.

– You don’t know what you’re saying Y/N! 

– You never loved me did you? You knew that I loved you and you used that!

– Y/N please, just listen to me!

��� No! I'm done, you saw me as an useless waste of space, didn't you? – The silence after your sentence was deafening. You sighed tiredly into the intercom. – You want my heart to constrict with agony?  My hands to shake? You want me to plead for my place in Voltron, you want to hear me beg for a chance to be useless trash laying around again? You want that so you can make a generous gesture and spare me..? – Your tone shifted drastically. – Sorry Pidge, I don’t seem to be in a mood for prayers tonight. – You bitterly smiled to yourself. 

– I used to think that I was a Paladin just like you all, but now, the mere thought of it makes me ashamed. I should wish you good luck, shouldn't I, huh? I guess, this is a goodbye, isn't it Pidge..? – You said sadly, sighing once again. You brought your hand up and rested it on the mute button. – I- No, I don't have anything else to say. Don't look for me, Voltron won't be us welcomed here as you wish it to be.

– Y/N just please, wait! —- The conversation ended. You took a sip of your cold coffee and closed your eyes to recollect yourself. You rested your head on your hands and cried quietly, sobbing stopped only after you passed out from exhaustion that finally caught up to you.

[stainedglassthreads]

Thinking about it. People have discussed to death and debated over whether Chara was ‘good’ or ‘evil’, and talked about their feelings on fandom’s early tendency to cast them as a villain. But now I’m wondering why a lot of fanworks cast them as a hyperactive little shit who swears a lot, gets mad easily, argues with everyone, and is sassy as hell. 

Sassy and sarcastic I can see if you’re going by Narra Chara. But rude, hyperactive, yandere-esque, and especially the swear words... not so much? 

And yeah, I could make arguments about how hiding their face paints a very shy and quiet image. But I’m not going to grasp at straws from still images. I’m going to use dialogue very few ‘Chara is evil’ believers are willing to argue DIDN’T come from them. 

In No Mercy, which is the one route basically everyone agrees they narrate, they’re direct and to the point and usually distant and unemotional. They’re not yelling that you’re a fucking donkey for believing you’re above consequences and can take back control, or heartlessly ripping into the monsters for being so foolishly naive and weak, or gloating over their victory. They calmly explain who and what they are, and what they want. The few times they do insult you, they use sophisticated words like ‘perverse sentimentality’. When they dismiss the monsters they’ve met until now, they don’t go out of their way to be really cruel and insulting. They remain direct and to the point, and are usually cold and harsh statements of fact. 

Toriel’s check in No Mercy is ‘Not worth talking to.’ They’re not wrong. In every other route, talking does nothing, only persistently sparing her lets you make progress. 

Papyrus gets ‘Forgettable’. Again, they’re not wrong. Very few monsters really take notice of him, most only remembering him in relation to other people. As ‘Sans’ brother’ or ‘Undyne’s trainee’. 

Monster Kid is just ‘in my way’. Cruel, but objectively not wrong. It’s less of a ponted insult, and more how little they think of them. 

For Undyne, the narrator isn’t even particularly cold or disrespectful. In two out of three possible flavor texts, they refer to Undyne as ‘the heroine’. Quite a compliment, and one that isn’t wrong, considering how she’s standing up to a mass murderer and protects Monster Kid. 

Mettaton, in No Mercy, gets similarly positive or neutral remarks. ‘Dr Alphys’ greatest invention’ and ‘Mettaton NEO blocks your way’. He sure is blocking your way. And most of the Underground sure does know him as Dr Alphys’ greatest invention. I guess it could be read as sarcastic, but with the tone of all these other bits of flavor text, it feels more like a neutral statement...? 

And of course. Sans. He probably has the absolute biggest variety of No Mercy flavor text. ‘The easiest enemy’ could be read as insulting, but this is corrected to a more objective statement of encouragement. ‘He can’t keep dodging forever. Just keep attacking.’ Other bits of flavor text are objective assessments of how tired Sans is, how YOU feel, and how dwelling on the flavor text isn’t a great use of time. At no point do they call him smiley trashbag, that comedian, or...anything really insulting. 

At no point do they call ANYONE anything especially insulting. They’re not like Flowey, calling everyone idiots. If anything, a villainous and murderous Chara comes off as more cold and distant. Even the Save Points don’t tell you ‘5 more idiot babies to slaughter’ or specifically demand that you finish everyone off before moving on. Until you reach Sans, Chara makes no effort to discourage or persuade you. They just state objectively ‘x left’ or ‘but nobody came’. 

They just... don’t care. They don’t care about any of these people anymore, not even enough to waste energy on insulting them. All they care about is reaching ‘the end’. (Or one could argue they’re at least trying to act like they don’t care.)

Chara states that they were confused upon awakening and chose to follow your lead. Personally I’m inclined to believe that they’re not lying. They choose to follow our orders to the utmost, even when they do not understand those orders, even when those orders lead them to the edge of annihilation. 

On a final note. It’s kinda sad how Chara’s systematic completionist mentality is cold and horrifying in No Mercy... but in the Winter Alarm Clock dialogue, it’s a funny anecdote of a more lighthearted time which both Asgore and Toriel remember fondly, and a behavior Asriel still continues to emulate even after he stops idolizing Chara. 

Any trait, when taken to the extreme, can become nightmarish. 

[firecrackerhh]

I sometimes wonder if the reason (if not at least one of many reasons) why antis are so against Hazbin Hotel as a show (besides the obvious anti viv bullshit) is because the very concept of redemption is anathema to them.

They do not believe people can change, and thus the entire premise of hazbin, (and frankly helluva too) is something they literally cannot understand. Refuse to understand at the least.

They don’t care about other people, they do not care if their actions in the name of their own twisted form of justice causes undue suffering, they simply want to be seen as a “good person” without putting in any actual effort to be good.

Sure, it’s easy to find a shitty person online and rake them over the coals for things they’ve said or done years ago. Effortless. But it takes real patience, compassion, perhaps slight firmness but certainly no undue cruelty to convince people they need to change, and even then, that’s a personal journey that others can at most try to influence, but they can’t make people change.

And even if the person they’re bitching about does, it’ll never be good enough.

There’s nothing Viv can do to change these peoples minds, nothing we can do. No matter how many apologies she gives they will never accept it. No matter what we say they will never accept that Viv is not fucking Satan incarnate.

Engaging with these people is a waste of time. Always has been. If Viv is so irredeemable to them, they likely look at us the same way.

I wonder what skeletons people like this must hide, anyone who acts holier than thou about being a “better” person while engaging in reprehensible behavior themselves is a rather irritating form of hypocrisy that boggles my mind.

I am no saint, god knows I’m no fucking saint, but I know what’s right and wrong and antis are wrong every. Single. Time. Any evidence they claim to have of Viv’s awful behavior is either nearly a decade old and thus clearly irrelevant given the people who vouch for her in the present, doctored discord messages (which even if they were real, shows no dates, so we have no idea how old those are to begin with) or the ‘evidence’ is so flimsy that if a lawyer looked at it he would say you’re wasting his time.

I think these people don’t like Viv’s shows because they are morally incompatible with it. They do not believe in redemption. They believe once you’ve fucked up in life, that’s it, no second chances.

I fear what they must think of our current prison population. I fear what they might say.

These people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

They dare to talk shit about the fandom, Viv, anyone else associated with the show, pretending that they’re saying what they’re saying in the name of justice, as if attacking people with their past when they have clearly changed and made apologies is in any way a justifiable thing to do.

They don’t have to like Viv, they really don’t, but calling her irredeemable, calling us irredeemable, is fucking bullshit.

None of us are irredeemable.

The fucking conceit. The fucking gall. The fucking balls on these people.

Everyone has the capacity to make good and bad choices in this life. Yes, many people don’t make the best choices, but that doesn’t mean that they should be stoned to death for the most minor of offenses. For shit that’s long been in the past and apologized for.

I’m not going to say I think very highly of humanity as a whole, I’m a fucking misanthrope through-and-through, but I don’t think we’re incapable of being good, or doing good things, we just…choose not to, a lot of the time.

I also do not deny that there are some crimes so horrible that redemption isn’t even on the table, nowhere near it. But I feel like antis treat every perceived fault of Viv as some most grievous sin that must be met with full penance by…doing what exactly?

Apologize? Again, they won’t accept it.

Donate to charities or causes? She gets shit on for it, say she’s “flaunting her wealth.”

Get off the internet entirely? In an anti’s wet dreams maybe.

Her very existence makes them so mad. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.

These people twist her words in every way imaginable to make her look like some horrible person undeserving of her success, without realizing they make themselves look far worse than her by several measures.

They claim she’s racist and queerphobic, but if anything acting as if BIPOC and queer people shouldn’t ever be shown doing awful things because “bad queer/ BIPOC rep” or whatever I think is just as racist and queerphobic. Minorities are human beings, and as such they are just as capable of being shitty. I already made a post about this before, so I’ll keep this paragraph short.

They claim she’s abusive to her coworkers when it seems the one person bitching about it has no problem putting other past co workers under the bus for their personal gain. Antis claim she’s abusive while engaging in downright emotionally abusive behavior (I know that sounds kinda dramatic but I’m making a point) themselves as they shit on us for the stupidest reason imaginable: liking a cartoon.

They cry about ableism while ignoring their own.

Not that I’m all that offended if I’m honest, it’s just more evidence that antis aren’t any better than the people they bitch about.

I could go on about this for a while but you get the point.

I repeat, these people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

Frankly, as much as it bothers me that they leak patreon shit and whatnot, many fans are actively warning against them, and I think the idea of someone actively choosing to give money to someone they hate just so they have more content to shit on is fucking pathetic and getting upset about it is exactly what they want.

They want you to be just as miserable as they are. They just want to suck all the fun out of this fandom, I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, these people are tar pits, trying to drown us in their muck. It’s pathetic and sad. No use in having sympathy, they don’t deserve any.

It’s funny how antis scream and cry about how awful we are as they ignore their own sins and mistakes, hypocrites.

If anything, their behavior is far more irredeemable than Viv’s has ever been.

I wonder when they will realize that, if they ever do. I can only hope some of them grow the fuck up and realize what the fuck they’ve done. If the ensuing guilt eats them alive, I can’t say I have pity for them.

Wonder how many of us would accept their apologies, if they chose to make one.

Alright it’s almost 7 am I gotta get to bed. Peace.

🔥🧨~Firecracker out~🧨🔥

[canonizzyhours]

When I first watched OFMD like a week after the season 1 finale my feelings for Izzy were honestly just passive dislike. I hated him but I was barely thinking of him compared to everything else in the show. I also was not fond of him at all. I just didn’t care. Then I saw all these posts about how he was such a freak and needed to be put in a jar and I was like, “Oh ok I see the appeal. I still don’t really care for him but you guys have fun with your fucked up creepy and wet pathetic meow meow blorbo.”

Then as spring turned into summer there was this gradual yet very rapidly growing sentiment of “actually Izzy is sympathetic and tragic and correct about everything” and since then I have had to think about him so fucking much just to unpack why all of these takes were so fucking wrong. I remember seeing one or two dead serious “hot take: Izzy doesn’t need a redemption arc because he did nothing wrong” posts for the first time in the summer and being baffled at what a crazy fringe take that was. And then those people got louder and louder and I felt like I was losing my mind. I talked So Much about Izzy’s canon characterization and his motivations and stuff because I felt like I had to keep reminding myself of who canon Izzy was or the fandom would trick me into forgetting that he was creepy and wet. All this for a character I didn’t even care about in the first place.

And then season two came out and apparently I had been tricked into putting more effort into analyzing Izzy’s character than the actual OFMD writers???

Season two did not give us any insight into Izzy’s internal thoughts. We didn’t get any sort of backstory to explain why he was Like That last season. And his character growth from being Like That to being a normal about Ed happened off-screen, or happened entirely through symbolic rebirth after he tried to kill himself, or was written and possibly filmed but ultimately got cut for the sake of prioritizing what the show is actually about, which is obviously Ed and Stede’s romance (and that last one feels really unlikely to me just based on how Con and others talk about Izzy in season two). The writers just did not care enough about Izzy to make sure any actual character growth from Izzy happened on-screen, they just showed him doing things he wouldn’t have done last season with no real explanation for why he changed his mind and how he unlearned toxic masculinity he had so much of in the last season. They wrote Izzy doing the absolute bare minimum they needed him to do to get him to where he could make that apology to Ed on his deathbed. And there was almost nothing left of Izzy’s season one characterization, despite season one Izzy being a character so many fans allegedly fell in love with.

This is the absolute funniest possible thing that could’ve happened to me with season two coming out. I’m not even mad that I wasted so much of my energy thinking about a character I never even cared that much about to begin with, it’s worth it for the punchline that absolutely none of it mattered. Izzy was literally not important enough to the story to make that kind of in-depth character analysis necessary except for fun, and while I like analyzing characters I would have never chosen to think about Izzy so much of it wasn’t for the fandom. And I really didn’t need to be worried about disproving what half the fandom was saying when one of their core takes is “the way he said it was harsh, but Izzy was ultimately right to bully Ed back into being a pirate because that’s their livelihood and he doesn’t want them to starve,” the fact that they thought that was what writers were trying to say is absolutely insane. Izzy fans should have realized they were reading against the text. I should have realized that trying to deconstruct everything that was incorrect about an interpretation that was so clearly reading against the text wasn’t going to be worth the effort once season two came out.

It’s like if I had spent all of the break between seasons one and two tackling why “Stede’s main arc is about how he is just a spoiled rich boy who needs to learn how to toughen up, just like his dad said in the pilot” was a misinterpretation of the show. That’s how ridiculous Izzy fans sounded when they analyzed OFMD. Everything I said trying to make a solid argument against them can be summed up as, “the antagonist of the show is written to be an antagonist, actually.” It was really never any deeper than that.

#120.