#and like I just said I had excused absences the whole day

[sourkitsch]

Someone so annoying has attached themself to my side like we have a lot of classes together and are both transfers and they’re two years younger than me and but this persons entire personality is made up of things that I despise it’s like they’ve never had a thought about anything other than media that’s been franchised to hell. If they stopped talking about themselves for one second they would realize I barely respond to anything they say because I have truly nothing to say to them. I am trying SO HARD not to be mean and bitchy to people I dislike at college this time but I don’t know how I’m not going to blow a gasket this semester.

[on-leatheredwings]

Checkmate

Yandere! Tim Drake / (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, rated M > tw/cw: yandere-typical behaviors (obsession). M rating is for a boner. just some sexual tension. reader is mentioned as bisexual.

> summary: Intellectually, Tim falls fast. Romantically, he falls hard. Seems this time it's both. > a/n: i just wanted to post some tim practice, pls let me know if i did okay. I made him a bit of a fuckboy i guess but ngl i think tim’s just run through af 😭 > word count: 1268

Tim likes you. And knowing himself, soon, he’s going to really like you.

More than anticipated, too. He didn’t think he’d have much of an opinion at all on you, when you had first met on your first day, in your new position as his personal assistant.

Personal assistant. 

At the reveal, he exchanged a hard look with Bruce across the room. Tim Drake had not been slacking on the job. And sometimes he had the eye bags to prove it.

Tim hadn’t even said anything yet, when you chirped, “Think of it as delegation.”

You gave him a pleasant, albeit cheeky look – which he respected. If you had the qualifications and enough charm to impress the hiring manager, who was a notorious hardass in interviews, you were probably fine. Probably more than fine.

Either way, he expected to forget your existence until you texted or called him to remind him about meetings he hadn’t forgotten about.

It turns out, you had… personality. Probably more than you should’ve, working in the professional setting of Wayne Enterprises. You dealt with Tim’s shit (absences, excuses), but gave as good as you got (ultimatums, thinly-veiled blackmail to run and tell Bruce). You were also… very attractive. And clever. And smart. And insightful.

And God, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. And he wonders if he can somehow orchestrate a breakup. 

Tim moves a chess piece across the board. 

Okay, maybe he’s being too hasty. 

Oh, for the love of– you know what? No, he isn’t being too hasty. Anyone working in such close quarters with the heir apparent of Wayne Enterprises is heavily vetted. But it’s about time he did his own background check on you. He has made it three whole months without doing so. 

See, he really is getting over his control issues. Eat that, Stephanie.

Okay, if he’s going to entertain the idea of courting you– Wait, wait, since when was it courting? Yeah, no. He’s merely entertaining the thought of you. He’s been burned too many times now to start courting.

Let’s talk about having sex first before we start talking about dating, he jests with himself.

Anyway. He wonders what would be the most interesting means of going about this. Coming out and confessing would be a little boring. Too easy. His eyes wander to your lips. You’re too focused on making your next move to notice him ogling the soft swell of your chest beneath a sharp button-up. You’ve rolled up the sleeves – very casual for this very casual hangout. You both lounge on your bed, in your bedroom, in your apartment, because if Tim wins, you don’t get to hound him on personally contacting investors. (Sometimes, you gotta leave malcontents out to dry. Make them miss you.)

He hopes you like being experimented with. Or maybe you like experimenting on others. He would do anything you liked because, man, it’s thrilling to know people and their wants. Anything you give, he could take it–

Tim startles as a realization comes to his mind. 

… Him. Taking it.

Is that something he wants? To bottom for you? … Is that something… he wants? 

Yes.

Now that the idea has been conceived, yes, he wants that. So that’s that. 

The reality of whether you’d want to do that… is slim… maybe? You’re bi as well. Maybe that changes things. He’s not going to think about it too hard, because now he’s getting excited.

Tim would love for the skittering, synapses-firing-on-all-cylinders effect in his brain to cool down – for everything to wash over with cool calculation and academic interest. He manages to do that much for even the most intriguing cases. But you… Tim sighs.

And now he’s hard.

Tim shifts uncomfortably. He’s lying on his stomach, held up by his forearms. 

He sighs, even though there’s an evil piece of his brain snickering and taunting, “But you love this, though!” Evil, evil.

At Tim’s increasing silence, you lift a brow. Man, he’s been out of it all game.

“Tim?” He comes back to planet Earth. “It’s your move. Again.” You wear a Cheshire grin. “It’s almost like we’re taking turns, or something.”

He blinks, baby blue eyes clearing up. He shifts in his spot, feeling trills of pleasure from friction against erection. Your sheets. Against his erection. He bites back a smile. Okay, yes, he loves this. He likes hiding like this, right under your nose.

Him getting a boner was a development he had foreseen coming ten minutes ago, once he started daydreaming about you. So he just went ahead and casually switched positions. A risk, but a calculated one. He was pretty sure there’d be no reason for him to get up and expose the tent in his jeans. And boy does he love it when he’s right.

Tim goes to move another piece, when he glances up at you and nearly goes slack-jawed. You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you wet your lips, seemingly meditating on something.

You meditate on him. After all, Tim is so… pretty. Pretty in a way unlike the rest of his gorgeous brothers. He has pretty eyes framed by dark lashes and a smaller frame, though he’s deceptively muscled under the clean-cut slacks and button ups. He has silky black hair that often falls into his eyes; a defined jaw. And pale skin. He is notably the palest in his family, burning miserably on beach days. It is that pale skin, contrasted so sharply with his dark green tee, that brings your eyes to his collarbones.

Tim nearly erupts.

Fuck, yes. He caught you staring. It takes him self-restraint not to puff out his chest or try to show more skin, lest he reveal his hard-on.

You snap out of it only moments after he notices, grin returning to your face.

“You know if you lose focus like that, I’m going to win,” you tease, almost childlike mischief in your expression. 

Tim so badly wants to parrot the words back at you, but he doesn’t want to scare you into never checking him out ever again. The little inch you just gave him– oh, he intends to take a mile. Whatever small acquiesces you give in the future, he knows he’ll take that and much more.

Now, he’s hungry for you. As soon as this game is done, he’s going to create a new case study file, just for you. He could start kicking his feet at the thought, he's that excited. He’s excited! 

He’ll put the pedestrian, basic stuff like your height, weight, alma mater, major, past jobs and experiences. Somehow get into your social media that’s all on private mode to see what you’re always laughing at on that damn phone. He’s also going to bring up your phone records, go through your email, go through your physical mail. Oh, fuck, surveillance. He’s already in your room, too, luckily. If only he had more of his bugs on hand… The ones he always keeps in his belt buckle will do for now. Also, Tim needs to think of some way to acquire your breast, waist, and hip size – he has a good idea of those measurements, but he wants to know. When is the next time you’ll be out of the house and not at work, he wonders–

“Tim,” you whine, impatient. The sound is music to his ears.

Tim’s eyes rise from the board to your pouting face, and he smiles apologetically. Suddenly, your face dawns with disbelief and indignance.

Tim swiftly picks up one last piece and knocks one yours over.

“Checkmate.”

[rainyorca]

You know I love you girl 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, hurt, comfort, established relationship, smut, pnv, cunnilings.

Words: 2,029

Notes: Probably my last short one until I finish my long form one. Anyways, I am all about soft kenji so pls enjoy <33.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

Sometimes, not so often, you and Kenji will get into these little disagreements, simple fights in other words. And sometimes, neither of you will apologize, you’ll both go to sleep angry, backs facing each other rather than holding each other. You both need your space after fights, a little time to really sit and think, and then you’ll apologize or he’ll apologize and things will be back to normal. 

But recently, you got upset about something that started this whole problem. You can put up with Kenji’s life as a celebrity, him taking pictures with fans and doing the whole sports celebrity thing but him being gone all the time bothers you a bit. You were fine with it before but something about it just really grinds your gears now. You don't say anything about it at first, that is until he tells you a specific time he's coming home, and then he comes home hours later without saying a word. The first time it happened you brushed it off, he apologized, explained what happened and that was that. 

However, around the fourth time, you explained to him why it was making you upset, and asked him why he kept forgetting to let you know. Kenji isn't a cheater, you know that very well, he would never do anything like that to you but you just can't help but wonder what he's up to.

“I don't understand why it's so hard to at least send me a text,” you say, your tone firm but voice rather soft. You never yell, rarely ever raise your voice, Kenji is the same way except sometimes he can get a little carried away. “I just dont see the problem, you have my location,” he points out, the tone of his voice makes you nearly lose it. You two had been going at it for thirty minutes now and you were about fed up, tired of his excuses. “It doesn't matter that I have your location,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s still important that you tell me you're gonna be a little late, if you just sent me a text, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.” Some harsh words were said from the both of you, the argument about his absence turning into a fight about a plethora of other things. Eventually you gave up, frustrated and upset, eyes stinging with tears, you decided to go to bed a little earlier that night. 

About an hour later, you're still awake, staring at the dark ceiling. You left the curtains open to let some cool light from the city and moon pour in. The familiar click of the door opening could be heard throughout the silent room, you turn around, back facing the door to avoid any contact. Kenji stands in the doorway, shirtless, the scent of his body wash rushes into the room, sea salt and cedar. He stares at your backside covered by the silk blankets, a pang of guilt stabs him in the heart. You hear the door close softly, squeezing your eyes shut to pretend you're asleep as he gets in bed with you. His eyes linger on your face for a while.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, sitting up right in the bed, “I’ve seen you asleep thousands of times and I know your face doesn't look anything like that.” His words make you sigh, opening your tired eyes slowly, glaring at him. He feels bad, you can tell just by the way he's staring down at you. “Look, I'm sorry,” he finally says, “I know I should text you when I'm gonna be longer, and honestly I get a little tired of being out all the time.” 

“I wish I could be here with you every moment of the day and night,” he continues, reaching under the blanket and grabbing one of your hands, “and I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean any of it.” He places a gentle kiss on your palm, his lips soft against your skin. You think for a moment, appreciating the fact that he's apologizing even if it's an hour later. “I'm sorry too,” you say softly, voice muffled, “I just wish I could spend more time with you.” 

“I know,” he hums, “I do too.” You stare at each other for a minute in silence before Kenji suddenly pulls the blanket down lower on your body. A smile graces his face when he sees you wearing one of his shirts, he toys with the fabric momentarily before gently pushing you onto your back. Before you can say anything he crawls on top of you, pressing his lips onto your forehead before grabbing your waist and scooting you up further on your pillow a bit. Kenji was rather skilled with his hands, and his silence. He was practically fluent in touches, enough to make you forget the events of what happened earlier. His lips travel to your neck as his hands explore your somewhat exposed body, running them up through the shirt and then down to your bare thighs. His breath gentle against your supple neck, nipping and kissing at your wonderful skin. He pulls away, trailing kisses down to where the shirt starts and then he sits up, nestling himself between your legs and placing gentle, mellow kisses on your legs. It's not long before he reaches your thighs, giving them the same treatment he had the rest of your body. He places his hands on your thighs, holding your legs open and rubbing your skin with his thumbs. 

His lithe fingers curl under your panties suddenly, moving them to the side. It catches you off guard, so naturally you flinch, looking down at him with glossed over eyes. “Relax,” he breathes, his breath fanning over your already soaked cunt, “I just wanna make it up to you.” You watch him open his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against your clit. The feeling makes you twitch and you lay your head on the pillow with a quiet whimper. You feel him wrap his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking softly. He was without a doubt, so excellently skilled at this, you would mark it as another language he was fluent in. Surrounded by your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin and leaving red marks with his short nails, his mouth working at your core. Everything about this moment had you on edge. His tongue eventually slips into your cunt, keeping a reasonable pace as he watches you writhe simply because of his mouth. 

He gasps into your cunt, pulling away briefly before burying his head between your legs again. His eyes closed, determined expression written all over his slicked face. At this point, hungrily, rolling your hips into his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so often. He reaches up, pressing a hand on your stomach. “Stop moving, love,” he breathes, pulling away from your weeping cunt, “let me take care of you.” Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling on his black locks when his mouth meets your cunt again. 

“Kenji,” you breathe, your head moving side to side on the satin pillow. The familiar heat pools in your stomach, threatening to release in an intense orgasm, but the feeling is pulled away from you along with Kenji’s mouth. “I know, I know,” he says softly when you let out a noise of protest, “I’ll let you feel it in a minute.” You watch him tug his sweats off, along with his boxers. He grabs his cock with a large hand, angling so his flushed tip rubs against your dripping entrance. He leans down, his lips graze over your neck. You tilt your head up, sucking in a breath when you feel him slide into you. “Fuck,” he sighs, a grin appearing on his sculpted face, “it’s been so long.” His breathing is shaky as he slides deeper into you, filling you to the brim until his tip nuzzles just perfectly against your sweet spot. He stretches you out pleasantly, your plush walls already tightening around him. You see his adam's apple bob with a swallow, his eyes trained on your face, focused on your contorted expression of pleasure. A whimper slips off your tongue as he pulls out slowly before pressing back in. Your eyes close as he continues to thrust into you, mouth open in a silent moan. 

With every slow, deep thrust of his hips, stars blur your vision, eyes watering as he fucks the tears out of you. “Ken–” you whine, breathless and quiet, each stroke practically taking your breath away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse but gentle. Another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot perfectly makes you cry out, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. The feeling of your nails makes goosebumps rise on his skin, knowing that you're gonna leave marks for him to see in the morning. He smiles, completely drunk on the feeling of your warm cunt, a quiet chuckle, barely audible, heard from his filthy lips. 

“Even when im gone,” he groans, fucking into you with a bit of a quicker pace now, but not too fast, “when im busy, you know I still think about you. You’re always on my mind.” The sound of his groans fills the room, mixed with your soft moans. “You feel so good,” he grunts, his hips connecting to yours before pulling back slowly, “seriously, all I think about is you and this perfect cunt that I’ve missed so much.” 

His soft, wet lips graze yours, making you open your lidded eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, firmly, “please, hm?” His little hum makes you lose your mind, you love it when he does that. You cup his face, pulling him down just a bit until your lips finally connect. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside by force almost. Your back arches, thighs tighten as he continues to repeatedly hit that sweet spot in you. 

The heat pools inside you again, your moans and ragged breathing picking up in volume, his thrusts still continuing at the same, even pace. “Kenji—ah—fuck, Kenji—!” You mewl, throwing your head back, parting from the heated kiss with him. “Gonna cum for me?” He says, dirty but still in that same gentle tone, “hm?” 

“Y-Yes,” you gasp out, “ah, yes.” He smiles again, your whiny pleads sending shivers down his spine as the pleasure climbs up yours. Your plush walls tighten around him like a vice as your climax builds up in you. “Good girl, cum for me” he whispers, his lips trailing up the line of your jaw. It’s almost as if those simple words were the signal for you, because seconds later your peak crests and you cum all over his cock. You cry out for him, desperately arching your back and scratching lines into his with your nails. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm as your tears fall just as they had before. At this point, you're too blinded by your orgasm and his cock to even tell if he’s cumming himself.  

Your whole body shudders as you come to rest back on the bed, the silk sheets sticking to your sweaty skin. He sits up, staring at your fucked out state. Your chest rises slowly as you attempt to chase your breath, your eyes shut tightly, mouth open and brows furrowed. Both your arms sprawled out about your head, twitching as you came down from your release. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, still watching your face for any change. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily before returning with a towel, carefully and gently, he removes your panties and cleans you up before cleaning himself up. He gets you a new pair of panties before snuggling back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling him in even tighter.  

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[hana-no-seiiki]

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT ME NOT F*CK ME!

yan! school grass (most handsome/perfect guy)/rival x crossdresser! male! reader x yan! friends - part one

tw/cw: mention of abusive parents (but not reader’s) and yandere themes. also your rival has some repressed sexual urges, he really needs to get laid or some head or something-

just read migi and dali and gahd NOW I WANNA WRITE A WHOLE CROSSDRESS /GENDERBENDER BL NOVEL IM IN HORRID ROTTING

Like I imagine this the best with stoic and/or tsun yans the best. You know those types that want to be perfect but only feels perfect when they’re with reader.

ive always loved these tropes as a kid, from mulan to that one tawog episode where darwin fell in love with fem! gumball and like this was even before i knew i wasnt cis but gahd AAAAAAA

also inspired by @moyazaika ‘s rival work. go read it!!

but anyways have the fic, lowercase intentional for first part to differentiate povs.

it was a dare given by your friend group earlier last weekend. wear the girls uniform and a wig for the entire month. it was easy to get the materials necessary for the most part. your mother had several wigs and was more than happy to style her son in feminine clothing. she was just amazing and supportive about your whims like that.

it didn’t take long for you to realize that no one recognized you in your new look.

the day started like many of your other ones at the school, you’d race your rival as the first one in class and whoever wins gets rights to a smug look on their face until the next thing you guys eventually compete on.

but unlike the crestfallen expression you expected — nay wanted — from that stupid pretty boy, you were greeted by what you could only described as complete bafflement.

“what?” despite having a different reaction from what you imagined, you managed to keep a composed appearance. “cat got your tongue?”

“ah. . .”

and that were the only words he said to you the entire day. nothing else. not a single groan of anger whenever you answered everything correctly, he didn’t even attempt at stopping you mid-way or disagree with you answer simply because he wanted to annoy you.

and so you couldn’t help it, as soon as the bell rang signalling lunch time you swiftly turned around to face him.

“are you alright?”

you inquired. not at all worried about his well-being at the slightest. you hated him with all your being after all and you didn’t make an effort to be soft with your tone either.

“h-huh?” he looked dazed. like his head had been in the clouds and you just yanked him down to ground.

your rival never got distracted.

“you—“ you reached out about to smack his face to keep him in check.

“if you’ll excuse me!” he smacked your hand out of the way, screeched at you, and then left in a hurry to who knows where.

nevermind that was definitely him. that silly brat hated it whenever you touched him. he must have just been having issues at home again or something.

Haoyu was trembling — shaking uncontrollably as his breaths turned more shallow by the second. His heart was pumping blood in places of his body where it shouldn’t have been in the middle of school hours. Sweat lined his entire skin and it didn’t help how the bathroom he rushed into had nothing to keep the temperature down.

Who were you?

You sat at his rival’s seat. That nasty kid that always got in his nerves. No one questioned the boy’s absence and he would have asked the teachers on what had happened if you didn’t suddenly take his breath away.

You were, ethereal. Otherworldy even. When he first saw you he was taken away by the way your hair moved in the wind (if only he knew . . .).

Still, he was far too distracted by [Y/N]’s absence to properly let the feeling simmer.

Then, all that went away when you reeled in his mind back at you again at class. You were incredible, capable, intelligent, and oh so perfect. But unlike that stupid child that usually sat in front of him, he did not feel an ounce of envy at all.

If only who could see your eyes as you spoke; the tone of your voice conveyed so much passion that he wanted to see in those beautiful (e/c) orbs.

And his prayers were granted by none other than the goddess that is you,

“Are you alright?”

Your voice? Oh your voice! Haoyu’s heard it already of course, but each new time you spoke it was like a whole new melody, a new piece that immediately turned into his favorite.

His mind was too fried with these thoughts, thoughts that his parents would no doubt beat out of him if they found out.

His feels the parts down there suddenly move. He wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the phenomenon. He wasn’t without his hormones after all. But this was the first time it ever reacted that way so strongly, like if he didn’t give it attention himself it’d explode.

“Mmph…”

And for the time in his entire life, Haoyu does something he knew his parents would definitely be disappointed if not livid about. A hand on his mouth, and another in his school uniform’s pants.

lunch time.

you usually spent those studying or preparing for the next class as hanging out with your friends always ended with you being too distracted to do schoolwork but today you had to show up with ‘proof’ that you went through with their dare.

“yiran ? yichen ?”

no response.

you sighed. as usual, the twins were late. what did you expect? those two would be caught dead before they could be early much less found in the library.

and so you spent the entire time reading,

unaware of the crowd that formed around you while you were busy studying.

[spidybaby]

Dull shine part 2 pleeeeease 😫❤️ ur srsly talented!!!

Dull Shine | Part Two

Summary: An advice and looking into the mirror makes Kylian understand why you left.

Warnings: cursing, depression topic, money issues.

A/N: It's meeee hiiii, I'm the problem it's ME. Sorry about taking so much time, I was solving some personal things, and now I'm freeeee 😫✨️ love you all so much ❤️

Also, heads-up, this is short because I think it's all it needs, not a full part two, more like a compliment that seals the deal 😀❤️

Part one

One day left.

That's what Kylian told himself when he woke up.

One day left for you to come back.

He can't deny that he wasn't the most excited person in the room the next day at practice. Everybody noticed, it was like everybody knew what happened that night.

But not at Luis Enrique's home. At his own, when he told you to move on from the problem he created.

When he ignored you, back turned to you. When you needed him the most. Every time he thinks about it, his heart sinks. It's a weight he's not able to lift.

His mother was the first to notice your absence. He walked into his home with something for you and you weren't there.

The first excuse. "She's working late."

Then it was Ethan. He called you to go to the movies and have a fun night. Wanting to see you after being busy with the team.

The second excuse. "She's sick, have a cold."

They both believed his words. Thinking you were being taken care of by him. But when the excuses kept coming. It wasn't normal anymore.

"Just be honest, we are your family." Fayza says. Sitting next to him. "Tell us what happened."

He sighs, ready to finally disclose his feelings. "She left a week and a half ago." He confess. Hands covering his face. "We had a fight, I said some things just days before, and she wasn't at the right mental place to deal with everything."

They didn't understood. How?

"What do you mean she left?" Ethan asks, standing up from his seat. "She left just like that? You let her leave just like that?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Kylian fights back. "She had her things packed, her ticket purchased and I thought that was the best thing. Don't you think this hurts me?"

"I can't believe you, Kylian. You lie to us, instead of admit that you fucked up. You lie straight to our faces."

"I was hurt, Y/n left, I was scared of facing that."

Fayza is silent, processing the information while her sons yell at each other.

"Enough, Ethan, sit down." She orders. "Kylian, you two broke up?"

He shakes his head no. "She just needed time. We were just not working together in understanding each others probl-"

"More like you weren't." Ethan interrupts. "Because all I hear is me, me, me. But you don't really think that same thinking got you where you are?"

He didn't fight back.

He knows his little brother is right.

"When will she be back?" His mother asks, worried expression.

"In a few days."

And those few days turned into just a few hours.

To be honest with himself, he was stressed. You were going to be back in Paris, but we're you going to be back with him?

Will the break become a breakup?

He was overthinking. That was not good.

Hakimi felt bad. He knew you better. When he heard what Kylian told him about you leaving, about Pamela belittling you, he checked his cameras.

The good thing about having money is that you can afford a very good quality security system. He heard how Pamela attacked you first. You then answered back, but you weren't going to let yourself get insulted.

He apologized to you over text. Asking you to forgive him and tell you how much guilt he feels about this whole situation.

When you read the texts, you felt weird. It wasn't his fault, or even Pamela's.

Everything was a mix of frustration, sadness and low self-respect you had for yourself.

You defend yourself from Pamela, but who was going to defend you from yourself?

You were the one belittling yourself.

Were you enough? You are.

But were you feeling enough? No.

Were you happy with Kylian?

And that question burned your mind for days.

You loved Kylian, he was your rock and you were his rock. You passed some critical times, but nothing like this.

Because he was there for you when you needed him the most, he was there when you lost someone, he was there when you felt homesick, he was there at you happiest.

But you didn't allow him to he at your lowest.

You notice how he was going out more, but he always asked you to come with him. Begged you to leave the house and accompany him.

You notice how he never heard you talk. But you barely even made conversation. You let him speak. When it was your turn, you only said, "I had a good day."

He had to fulfill the quietness with words.

Your mother asked you to think about therapy. Maybe there was something you needed that she or anyone couldn't understand. Something only you could.

And you did. You went to therapy while you were there. Every two days.

It was just the beginning, but it helped you understand that you had more than just a relationship problem. In fact, the relationship problem came from this.

Being blue is normal. We all feel like that.

But when you don't treat it, it can be rough. And you were doing that now, understanding that you needed help. Help that a trip home won't give you. Help that a fight with your friends new girlfriend won't give you.

But help that your lover can give you. He can be the hand to hold during this.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, I know now what I need to do." You say, hugging your friend.

You felt nervous about coming back.

Would he be okay with that?

Did he realize he didn't need you anymore?

If only you knew how anxious he is at Paris. Watching the time every five minutes to see if your arrival time is coming closer.

He prepared your favorite meal. Got your favorite dessert, your favorite drink and even prepare everything for a bubble bath.

He needed you to know how much he appreciates you, how important you are for him.

You were nervous too, your leg bouncing and bitting your nails. You brought him a gift from your home. Something he asked you a long time ago, and you never got due to not being able to travel back home.

You asked for an Uber. Not wanting his chauffeur to pick you or him to get out in the coldness of Paris.

The whole drive was painful. You were overthinking.

Both of you were.

"Would she be back to stay?"

"Is this going to end?"

"What if he doesn't want me back?"

"What if this is the end?"

"Madame, we are here." The Uber called your attention once your things were next to you on the street.

"Merci beaucoup." You say, paying him and telling him that you will take it from here.

You open the gate with your control. The sound of it interrupting the calm of the evening.

When he heard the sound, his heart stopped for a second. He was about to throw up from nerves.

The giggle of the keys makes him stop, he feels like throwing up. He took a sip of water before looking at himself on his phone camera, checking if he looked presentable.

The smell of food hits you as soon as you walk inside. Leaving your suitcase by the stairs and slowly walking inside trying to find him.

His back welcomes you, he's focused on his phone to notice you walking into the kitchen. The table was ready, your favorite food ready to be served.

"Kyks?"

He turns quickly, smiling at you with soft eyes. He walks with open arms to you. You lock your arms behind his back, feeling his kisses on your face.

"Mon amour." He kiss your forehead. "How was your flight? Did you even sleep? Are you hungry? I made your favorite meal and I was waiting f-"

You interrupted him by kissing his lips, and all the worries from both of you are out the door. You know he's not mad, and he knows you still love him.

"It was good. Thank you for updating my seat." You answer his questions. "I did sleep, almost all the flight, and I'm very hungry. Thank you for cooking. I can't wait to try it."

He kiss you on the lips, smiling into the kiss. His safe space is back with him. There is nothing better right now.

He pulls you to the chairs, serving you the food and drink. You can tell he was happy. He looked fresh.

You eat in silence. The peace of it is different than before. There was no more weird silence that a video or keyboard sound filled.

"Thank you, I really appreciate this."

He nods, waiting for the right time to talk about all the things that need to be talked about. He lays his head on your shoulder. Kissing your neck.

You feel the same. You want to jump and talk about everything to end the topic and move on. But that was not the way.

However, procrastinating the conversation wasn't the way either. "Let's talk. The faster, the better." You smile.

"Impatient much?" He jokes. Standing up and taking the plates to the sink. "Let's go to the living room?"

You nod, standing up and grabbing his hand, directing him to the big fluffy couch you both love.

"I want to start." He says as soon as his body falls into the cushion.

"Okay, lovie." You smile.

He thinks for a second, how can he ask what he needs to ask? He knows that no matter what, it will hit.

"Why weren't you honest about you having money issues?"

Your expression didn't change. You knew he knew. Celine asked you to pick your check a few days after you asked her you were taking a few days off to rest your mind.

You asked Kylian to pick it up, and Celine gave him a piece of her mind. She felt bad about doing it and called you a few hours later.

She told him that he was an asshole if he couldn't even tell that you were having issues not only with your peace of mind but with how much you worked and felt bad about never been able to match the lifestyle he was.

"I don't have money issues, Ky." You say, low but enough for him to hear. "What I had was the concept that I needed to have a certain amount of money to be enough for you. Leading to me working extra and feeling less than everybody who was around and could give themselves the benefit of spending what I earned in a nightclub."

He nods, understanding. "You know that I'm not like that, right?"

"I do. You always supported me in any way you could. And I'm grateful for you. I just felt so out of place." You sigh. "And every girl who got close to your friends always asked me about your ex, how she was this way and this way. I felt like competing."

He can feel his heart sinks. He never wanted you to compare yourself to the girls he dated. There was a reason why he was done with those relationships.

"You are so smart." He says, hand caressing your cheek. "You have no idea how much I ever wanted to end with someone like you. Not only beautiful but a very strong woman who doesn't need other peoples opinions and who can shine on her own."

You can feel your eyes watering. You never thought that his words were something you needed, but you did.

"My ex-girlfriends are just that. Exes. You are my present and my future." He kiss your cheek. "And I want you to know that no amount of money or any girl who I ever got anything with is going to take the place you have in my heart. You are the one."

Your lips found his, you can't think of any future plans or anything that didn't include him. You know he was your one, and knowing you are his one is heartwarming.

"I'm sorry, I know I was acting like a bitch. I think I felt way too comfortable, and I was so wrong for not noticing that you weren't you. I promise I'm not going to let that happen again."

"Thank you for that." You smile. "I'm sorry too, I was overwhelmed with all the thoughts in my mind. I think I let the worst of it hit me and never paint mind to it."

"It's okay." He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it. "You have me, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

The warmth in your heart is hard to describe. You are sure he will be with you no matter what. The same way you were for him when he needed you.

You hug him, falling into his embrace. His hands caressing your body while he left sweet words in your ear.

"We are going to be okay because we have each other." He kiss your lips and your head. "Tu m’as et je t’ai. Je t’aime, tu es mon monde." He humms.

[navia3000]

s o l o n g , l o n d o n

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Mentions of break downs, drinking, mentions of depression symptoms, not proof-read

Based On : So Long, London by Taylor Swift

Part two : All My Ghosts

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

“Haley wants us to get back together.” Upon hearing those words, her heart dropped. She realized why Hotch asked her to come on this ‘date’. She thought he was finally going to ask her to make whatever they were official, but she now knew he just wanted to let her down easy.

“What?” She asked. She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, her view of Hotch blurry and distorted. Though she couldn’t see very well, she could see the pity and regret written on his face.

“She wants us to try to be a family again.” She took a second to process his words.

“And, what did you say?” She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

“I said yes.” He watched the tears fall from her eyes. “I had to, for Jack. For my family. We both knew this wasn’t a sure thing, Y/N. I’m your boss, and our jobs are dangerous enough, this wasn’t going to work.” He was right. Since she started at the BAU, she developed a crush on her slightly older, and incredibly intimidating boss. She would’ve never thought he felt the same towards her, and she was constantly teased by her fellow profilers about it, until he asked her out on the way home from a case. She was elated. They went on a couple dates, and she was sure they were going great. Until now.

“And Haley gave you the out. Instead of telling me, you led me on,” she choked on her sobs. She reached for her purse, preparing herself to leave Aaron Hotchner and her heart along with him. “Go back to your family, Hotch. And don’t worry, I’ll pretend like nothing ever happened.”

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

The team was shocked and confused when Y/N took a two-week leave of absence. She left without telling anyone or saying where she was going, she didn’t even tell Hotch, going straight to Strauss and asking for her leave, using the ‘family emergency’ excuse. They were even more surprised when she returned, acting as if she hadn’t just left without a word.

She could feel their eyes on her the minute she entered the briefing room. She sat down, chin high, eyes forward, not daring to look any of them in the eye for fear they would see through her facade.

Hotch’s eyes burnt a whole in her head. They hadn’t talked, interacted even, since that night. And while she was going to be profesional, she didn’t want him thinking he broke her heart, even if he did.

“Y/N, good to see you back.” JJ was the first to address her, the first to break the silence. She gave JJ a smile, and turned to look at the file sitting in front of her, keeping to herself throughout the briefing.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The team had moved the briefing onto the jet, the case being of a serial killer who was quickly devolving. The profilers all noticed their fellow coworker and friend’s strange behavior, her demeanor entirely different to the one she wore before her leave. She wouldn’t indulge conversation with the others, always directing the topic onto the case. The agents had also picked up on Hotch’s behavior; how his eyes would linger on Y/N for a little too long, and how he avoided referencing the woman.

Emily was growing even more concerned for her friend as the minutes passed, and when she saw her heading to the front of the jet for coffee, she quickly followed. “Hey,” she alerted Y/N of her presence, turning and closing the curtains to give them some privacy.

“Hi,” she gave a tight-lipped smile, moving to go back to her seat before Prentiss grabbed her arm.

“What’s going on?” She saw her friend’s face harden, her eyes moving to her feet.

“Nothing,” she knew better than to try and pretend like nothing was wrong around a bunch of profilers, but she couldn’t admit to herself that hers and Hotch’s break up was taking a toll on her. She was skinnier and paler, and was clearly struggling with something. But she couldn’t even call whatever happened between them a break up; they were only going out for a month and they hadn’t even told the rest of the team. So, sticking to her word, she would continue to act as though nothing happened.

“Oh, come on, you know I don’t believe that.” Emily dropped her grip on the girl’s shoulder, moving to fiddle with the coffee cups on the table. “Something’s going on. We all see it. You don’t have to talk about it, but, I want you to know we’re all here for you.” She saw tears pooling in the younger girl’s eyes, and her concern grew and her heart broke and all she wanted was for her to be okay. “You can talk to us. You can talk to me, or JJ, or even Hotch.” At the mention of his name, she broke. Her tears ran down her face, and sobs racked her body.

Emily hurried to hug her friend, shocked at her sudden breakdown. She heard the curtain being pulled, and turned to the sight of the team’s concerned eyes on the pair. But, she made sure to watch Hotch, noticing his own eyes becoming glossy at the sight of the crying agent.

For so long, London

Had a good run

A moment of warm sun

But I'm not the one

She sat on her couch, drowning her sorrows with a bottle of wine. Emily, JJ, and Penelope had just left her apartment after a night spent of crying and laughing, the women comforting her after she had confided in them about all that happened with Hotch.

She felt better, but not great. Her heart still hurt every time Haley and Jack came to visit Hotch during his lunch break, and she kept having to excuse herself to the bathroom whenever she was around him for too long. The team pretended not to notice the tension between her and Hotch, and they both refused to acknowledge each other unless it referenced their work or a case they worked.

Everyone knew something happened between them, and they knew their friend was not okay, so they pushed past it in hopes of nursing their friend back to happiness. She was incredibly grateful for all their friends were doing for her, but it wasn’t enough.

Nobody knew that she had just given Strauss a request for a transfer from the Bureau; none of the others knew, all but one person. The same person who’s name lit up on her phone, his calls going unanswered as she sipped on her glass of wine.

[artdcnaldson]

patricks sister au has me in a tizzy hes so mean my pussy is sopping wet but what if he got meaner - what if he started dating someone just to get the message across. kisses her where you can see and acts all boyfriendy. what he doesn't know is that ur certifiably insane and purposely crash dates he has with her under the guise of 'i need a ride home.' and 'i need help with homework.' art knows what you're doing, isn't impressed by it.

but one day his girlfriend takes it upon herself to snap at you - maybe you're at a party and this time its not a ploy - you really do just want to go home - and you come up to art and his girlfriend rolls her eyes like, "jesus, here comes your fucking fan club, art." looks at you like, "you know you're annoying right. that everyone knows you have a crush on him? take a fucking hint. he. doesn't. want. you."

and you get tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling.... you run off so you dont see the absolute look of rage that flits over arts face. the way he becomes a wall of ice. if he was mean to you the cold way he turns to his girlfriend and promptly dumps her in front of everyone is downright evil.

of course he has to come find you ☹️ and he has to say sorry ☹️ and maybe you'll forgive him and leave him alone if he tells you really truly honestly...... that he doesn't want you. and if he cant say that...... then at least, cant he be your first kiss? please? you'll milk more tears out if you have to.

GODDDD <3

It’s so obvious what you’re doing. But maybe he shouldn’t have his dates on campus, shouldn’t bring his girlfriend to parties he knows you’re going to be at. It’s like he’s asking for you to do it.

And yeah the past excuses have been total bullshit. They were so weak, not even convincing, but you could always count on Art to walk you back to your dorm with his girlfriend in tow. He stops at your door, she lingers behind, and you smile all pretty and thank him.

Alone in your room, you wonder if he’s going to take her back to his dorm to fuck her. You’ve seen the way he kisses her— sweet and gentle, the way boyfriends kiss. You wonder what it’s like when they fuck— if he keeps that same sweet, doting facade on when he’s fucking into her cunt.

Probably. Art’s sweet, he’s respectable. You’re the only one who brings out the fire in him in your brother’s absence. It must be boring when they fuck. Missionary, cowgirl, doggy when he’s feeling adventurous.

You’d never be boring for him, never let things get stale. You don’t even know why he likes her, why he wastes his time. Sure, she’s pretty, she’s… an English major? Whatever.

So the next time you’re at a party and you come up to Art, they figure it’s just jealousy. That you’re just trying to break them apart. Again.

Your DD left with a polisci major, you were drunk and ready to leave. Two hours of watching Art and his fucking girlfriend suck face and grind to shitty music had left a sour taste in your mouth. You just wanted to be home in your bed already.

So you walked up to the two of them nursing beers in a group. She rolled her eyes at the sight of you, whispered something to one of her friends. You ignored her, tugged on Art’s arm.

“Can you walk me back to my dorm, please?”

It’s supposed to be earnest, it is earnest. But Art can’t get a word in before She interrupts.

“Jesus Christ. This whole thing you’re doing isn’t cute anymore. It’s just really fucking annoying, and we’re all fucking sick of it. Find someone else to throw yourself over and leave Art alone. You’re just embarrassing him at this point.”

You try to be a Big Girl about it, to say something back, but all you can manage is a weak I’m sorry before you’re leaving with hot tears streaking your cheeks and a nauseous pit in your stomach.

You don’t hear about the aftermath until later— whispers from a friend, really. Art had laid in on her after what she said. Called her things you’d never heard him say, that you couldn’t even imagine. Calling her a fucking cunt, telling her to mind her own fucking business and keep her fucking mouth shut about you. Shoved her off of him, told her to lose his fucking number.

But you didn’t know that. All you knew was barely five minutes after you had walked into the door and crawled into bed, there was a knock on the door.

You groaned, opened the door with teary, smeared makeup and a weak frown. Because seeing Art just makes it worse.

“I’m sorry Art, I never meant to embarrass you, and I know I’ve been horrible and awful and I’ve made you do awful things, and i don’t know when to just give up and it’s not fair to you.” He walks with you into the room, shuts the door and pulls you against his chest.

He smells like cigarettes and weed and beer and his girlfriend’s perfume. It makes you cry harder. “I’m really sorry, Art. I’ll leave you alone, I promise. I’ll tell Patrick to let you off the hook, and you won’t have to see me anymore.”

He pets your hair, leans back and wipes your tears with soft brushes of his thumbs along your cheeks. “You really don’t want me?” You ask weakly. “Not even a little bit?”

He swallows hard, because he doesn’t want to lie to you. Not tonight, not when you’re already feeling so bad. But what the two of you have isn’t healthy, it’s not what you need.

You sniffle, nod. “Will you just kiss me, then? Once? Please?”

His lips meet yours gently at first, with all the sweetness you’d expected from him, the same kind of kisses he’d give a girlfriend. You feel his tongue brush against yours and moan into his mouth.

It’s short— way too short— but you lean back with your lips tasting like him and that’s all your heart can handle for the night. Really it is.

“You should go,” you say finally, blinking away your tears and wiping at your eyes. “Really, I, uh, I have plans tomorrow, so—“

You don’t have plans, none at all. But he nods, kisses your forehead once.

When you’re in bed, you open your phone, text Art. I’m really sorry. You lock it and try to sleep.

[photogirl894]

I can't keep quiet anymore. I've got some things to say about the whole Tech situation from Bad Batch...

I've kept a lot of this bottled in for a long time, but now, I just can't. Long rant ahead, be warned.

First of all, I understand he was loved by many people and seeing your favorite characters die is extremely hard. Believe me, I swore I would quit the show if Hunter died. Though, some of the fans' reactions and the things fans are STILL saying to this day a few months after the show ended, I feel need addressing because I think people are missing the bigger picture here.

"Tech deserved better"/"They killed the only 'neurodivergent' character"...

Frankly, I don't think it would've mattered who they killed because people would've found something negative to say about it.

Hunter: "Of course, they would kill the mentor/father-figure!"

Crosshair: "Why did they have him die to redeem himself?"

Echo: "They killed the disabled character!"

Wrecker: "Why would they kill the big teddy bear character with the biggest heart?"

It wouldn't matter who it was, people would still find some way to complain about it. But of all the Batch to die, I do agree with what the creators said in saying it had to be Tech because things would've been much easier if Tech had lived. Now, hear me out! I'm not saying I wanted him to die or he deserved to die; heavens, no! I was devastated by his death and he's not even my favorite Clone. But if you think about it, his death was what paved the way for everything else that needed to happen.

If Tech had lived, they would've tracked the shuttle to Tantiss, probably stormed the base, broke out Crosshair, gone back to Pabu, end of story. But here's the thing: the mending of the sqaud's relationships with Crosshair probably would've been a bit rougher. Crosshair's relationship with Omega would most likely be different and that all just seems too easy.

Because of Tech's death and what happened on Eriadu, Omega wouldn't have been taken to Tantiss and formed a relationship with Crosshair as well as restore his hope in escaping. They wouldn't have needed to go to Barton IV, which is where a LOT happened in the Batch rebuilding their relationships with Crosshair, especially Hunter. If Tech had been there, he might've had Crosshair check his hand much sooner, which wouldn't have led to Omega bonding with Crosshair over trying to help him and teaching him to meditate. Everything else that followed involving Crosshair's growth, Omega's growth, the Batch growing closer as a family, etc, would not have happened had Tech lived. What we might've gotten would've been vastly underwhelming. Tech's absence made the Batch have to work together more to achieve their goals, which brought them closer together by the end of the show.

Granted, I do believe it still would've been nice to see Tech be a part of the family dynamic after Crosshair's return, but I don't think it would've been remotely the same. I could very well be wrong; maybe what we could've gotten had he lived might've still been just as good, but that's all pure speculation now. But I know there are moments we all loved from season 3 that wouldn't have happened had Tech survived and would've vastly changed the story.

As to the "killing the ND character" thing, I highly doubt that was why they did it. There was no agenda there and I feel that point is just something people want to say to justify hating his death. I understand if you're ND and seeing a character like you/you relate to die on screen is hard, but that doesn't mean that the creators are out to get you and they're "taking away representation". Like I said earlier, you could make any excuse to why they'd kill any of the characters, but that's not what they were doing with Tech. Tech's absence created the most challenges for the Batch, which was what led them to work more together and grow closer as a family. It still sucks we had to lose him anyway, but his loss had more impact on the story than anyone else's would've. Characters are killed for "plot purposes" all the time. That's just part of storytelling and driving a story forward. (Unless you're Game of Thrones and you just kill characters left and right for the hell of it)

"CX-2 should've been Tech! They manipulated us into thinking it was him!"

Here's where I might get a little controversial, but just hear me out.

Here's the thing: I only believed CX-2 might've been Tech when he used the word "domicile". And even then, that was a loose belief because I didn't want to be disappointed if it turned out not to be true, which it did. Everything else people were saying was "proof" that the assassin was Tech, I personally couldn't see it. And I'm someone who closely analyzed a LOT of things throughout the show.

I'm gonna come out and say it: I think a lot of fans were heartbroken over Tech and wanted him to be alive that they saw what they wanted to see in order to justify that want.

I wanted Tech to be alive, too, and I even said a couple times to people "we didn't see a body" or "if X character (like Maul or Palpatine) can survive a fall, then Tech can", but I never firmly held onto that belief. Because I wasn't so set on "he's alive and he's going to come back", I didn't see all the things people claimed they saw that "proved" CX-2 was Tech. They claimed he walked like him, I honestly didn't think so. They claimed he talked like him/sounded like him. How could you tell? He had a voice modulator and frankly, he sounded like a mix of Clone voices and I never heard Tech's voice.

I honestly believe a lot of fans saw what they wanted to see in order to justify saying "Tech is alive" because they were angry or sad that he had died in the first place. Then to find out in the finale that they were wrong, they got angry and claimed the creators "manipulated" them into thinking Tech was the assassin. Which was not what they did. Also side note: with how the actors and creators were vague on talking about Tech's death, which I think was also a contributing factor to people thinking Tech was alive; that could've possibly been handled better, yes, but think about it: they loved Tech as much we did. Maybe they didn't want to outright say "he's dead" because they were struggling with it, too. I don't think those vague statements were made to mess with us. I think the cast and crew were still trying to cope with Tech's death just as much as the rest of us.

This is part of why I say making theories or speculations about shows is dangerous because when you hold on too closely to them or convince yourself your theory is right, it ruins things for you when you turn out to be wrong. Some people get too convinced they're right about certain things and then when they're not, they get angry and hate the show. That's part of why fans got angry at "The Last Jedi"; fans were convinced Rey was a Kenobi or related to some other big SW character and then it was revealed that her parents were nobody, which made people mad cuz their theories were proven wrong. (Not gonna go into how they backpedaled on that in Rise of Skywalker, but my point still stands). I know some people may not agree with what I'm saying to this point, but I assure you, I'm not trying to invalidate anyone. I'm merely pointing that what everyone thought was there was not actually what was happening, which unfortunately soured your opinions on the show/how they handled Tech.

Which then brings me to this point:

"They never mentioned Tech"/"They never mourned Tech"/"They wrote him out of existence"...

First of all, the first and last sentence couldn't be farther from the truth. They reference Tech several times throughout season 3.

And here's the thing: after his death, Tech is mentioned more times in season 3 than several other Clones were ever mentioned after their deaths throughout the entirety of Clone Wars combined!

99: 1 time

Hevy: 2 times

Fives: 3 times

Hardcase: 0 times

Waxer: 0 times

Cody: 0 times (I know he's not dead supposedly, but he's still disappeared and hasn't been mentioned since)

Echo: 1 time, but only just before it was discovered he was actually alive

Gregor: 0 times until it was revealed first he was alive in Rebels

Jesse: 0 times

Mayday: 0 times, but shown 1 time

Tech: 13 times

If you don't believe me, I will give episodes, scenes and/or lines for every single time he's referenced.

The show did not forget him. The Batch did not forget him. If they had completely forgotten about him, they would not have referenced him by name or alluded to him with his goggles or datapad several times. So please, can we stop saying they forgot about him? Cuz it's just not true. Just cuz they didn't all sit down at a table and full on talk about him at length doesn't mean the characters or the creators forgot about him. His absence was still very much felt, but he still had a presence throughout the last season.

Which leads me to the Bad Batch not properly mourning him. First of all, everyone mourns differently. My husband is a good example. Both of his grandparents died within the span of a couple years, but he didn't cry at either funeral because he knows he'll be reunited with them in heaven one day, which I know too, but he chose not to cry. Whereas I was a mess at both funerals and I didn't know them nearly as well as he did.

Same with the Bad Batch. Keep in mind, they are soldiers. They've probably gone a long time knowing any one of them could die throughout the Clone Wars. Most of the Clones knew that. Honestly, when did we ever really see the Clones "properly" mourn their brothers other than the CW series finale? Fives or Rex didn't mourn Echo after he "died". No one properly mourned Fives. Or 99 or Hardcase or Waxer. Most Clones didn't get "properly" mourned because they were soldiers. Rex even says in Clone Wars s7 ep2:

"I have watched so many of my brothers fall during this war, and I try not to hang on to any one of them."

The Clones are taught/programmed to not really mourn their brothers because they are soldiers in war and any of them could die at any moment. The same applies to the Bad Batch. Now, the argument could possibly be made that the Batch are a smaller squad and closer than most other Clone groups, so they should be different, but that still doesn't take away from the fact that they were still born and raised as soldiers. The way they handle death is different than how we might in real life.

The bigger fact of the matter is, right after Tech died, a lot happened. The Batch were all badly injured and then Omega got captured. Their attention was then focused on finding Omega instead of Tech. Plus, what did Tech say in "The Crossing"? That "change is a fundamental part of life" and "we have to adapt and move on". I really think that's what the Batch did: they had to adapt to the change and move on. They couldn't take time to mourn Tech because finding Omega took precedence.

And if you really think about it: that's what Tech would've wanted.

He was adamant about rescuing Crosshair and I honestly believe, if he could speak from beyond the grave, that he would've been adamant about them rescuing Omega instead of wallowing in sorrow over losing him. We all know how much he loved his brothers and his sister, so I firmly believe he would not have wanted them to focus on him.

That all, of course, is more speculation, but it is just something to think about.

If you've made it this far, my point is: I'm not trying to invalidate anyone's feelings about how things with Tech were handled. I think a lot of us were just shocked with his death and plenty more coped with it by essentially denying it and finding things to justify him being alive in the hopes that he would come back somehow. I've seen people act like Tech still being dead is, like, the first time a character's death has been actually final, but this isn't the first time a beloved Clone has died and his death was final.

Fives is still dead.

99 is still dead.

Jesse is still dead.

Mayday is still dead.

Plenty of other Clones are still dead.

The only exception so far has been Echo and Gregor (the first time) for reasons I don't know. So Tech's death being made final after the Bad Batch finale is nothing new, so I don't know why people are so up in arms like it's the first time it's ever happened. I know it sucks other characters in SW can die and come back by some means, but with Clones, this is how it's been.

I miss Tech, too. I struggle watching "Plan 99" and thinking about him being gone is hard even for me...but don't hate on the Bad Batch because they didn't bring him back. They gave us an incredible story; probably the best in all of Star Wars animation and I'm afraid people are losing sight of that because they're mad about Tech not actually being alive like they thought. We didn't see him in season 3, but his memory and legacy was still ever present. Hell, the show ended with Omega becoming a pilot just like him and wanting to help the Rebellion. If that's not perfectly honoring Tech and his sacrifice, then I don't know what is.

If you disagree with me, that's fine, but please keep things civil if you choose to say anything. These are just my thoughts and observations. I felt many of these criticisms were unfair and needed to be addressed.

I love the Bad Batch so much and I just want other people to remember their love for it, too, despite the tragic loss of Tech.

[faebaex]

Tangled in Wonderland - Pick Your Poison

author note: next part finally! i enjoyed writing Vil, I've never written for him before and really wanted to do a good job. i thought alot about his values and how to put across his character, so i hope it doesn't seem too ooc, as i have never written him before now! next up is Ignihyde, and i'm planning to get that out before the end of the month! I've had an idea for that chapter for months, and i'm really excited to write it and add a little twist ≧✯◡✯≦ hope you enjoy!!

characters: Vil Schoenheit x GN!Reader

Something was definitely up.

Really, you should be relieved. This is what you had wanted all along, the whole reason that you had kept a low profile in the first place. But for some reason, now you just felt disconcerted. Uneasy, like there was an axe hanging above your head, ready to drop any moment.

Azul had still overblot. It wasn’t unexpected, especially considering you were the one who gave the Heartslabyul braincell duo the hot tip on where exactly they should look to get some leverage on Azul. You had no idea of what Leona’s involvement was in the whole situation, if he was at all, and you weren’t present to witness Azul’s overblot. But that wasn’t the part that had you all shaken up.

No.

The part that disturbed you was that Jamil’s overblot still happened, and you had absolutely no involvement in the events. You made sure you stayed well away from Scarabia, from Kalim, from Jamil. Even when you inevitably ran into him in the cafeteria kitchen when you were feeding the fire fairies, you made sure not to stare into his eyes, staring at his lips or anywhere else instead. You excused yourself as soon as possible, even though you were sure you’d aroused Jamil’s suspicions at least a little bit with your flighty behaviour.

You had wondered what the consequences of this would be. Would Jamil’s initial plan be a success and Kalim would end up ousted from his role as housewarden? Would Jamil take his place and finally be satisfied? Would his overblot be avoided altogether?

Clearly not.

You first noticed that something was up when Grim didn’t return back to Ramshackle one afternoon after the two of you had split up the work of feeding the fire fairies. You had hoped that he was just taking his sweet time, but he didn’t return that evening, or the evening after that. You debated with the idea of going and helping him out, but eventually decided not to. You felt a little bad, sure, but you trusted Grim’s tenacity to get him out of trouble.

When Grim finally returned home, he was practically bursting at the seams to tell you everything that had happened during his absence. Such willingness earned him a can of premium tuna, which you kept on hand for bribery. As you had expected, he had spent the last couple of days playing through the story route for book four. After becoming embroiled in the study hell that brainwashed Kalim was forcing on the Scarabia students, Grim escaped only to fall straight into the arms of Octavinelle. From what Grim had told you, book four played out exactly the same as the game, even without your presence, with Octavinelle’s meddling resulting in Jamil’s plan being foiled and him subsequently overblotting. Grim was particularly proud to tell you that even when Azul and the Leech twins had asked about you, he had not said a single peep about you. You gave him another can of premium tuna for that, hoping that one it was true, and two that he would be more inclined to continue being as discrete in the future.

You wondered if book four had continued as planned without your presence because the main character was more passive during that book then they were in all previous books. It was getting harder to wrack your brain and remember all the finer details of each book, especially considering that actually being in Twisted Wonderland when these events were unfolding was giving you seriously nauseating amounts of déjà vu.

All of these feelings led you to your next plan of action. With the culture fair fast approaching, that meant that book five was also on the horizon. And that meant you would have to deal with Vil Schoenheit. You’d been lucky enough to avoid any interactions with him at all since arriving in Twisted Wonderland, and you wanted to keep that streak going, preferably. You needed to not participate in the SDC at all, and you definitely couldn’t have the NRC Tribe staying at Ramshackle.

So yet again, you kept your head down. You didn’t go to the audition with Ace and Deuce, although you did feel bad enough about ditching them to watch their practices once or twice. When Rook’s message on an arrow summoned you to the Pomefiore ballroom after school with Ace and Deuce, you refused to attend. The Heartslabyul duo were confused at your outright refusal, but you managed to convince them that you had no interest in the SDC and simply wanted to focus all your energy on finding a way home. They both seemed to accept that, even if they found your behaviour a little odd.

That resulted in the Headmage paying you a rare visit in the library a few days later. He had implored you to find ‘enough kindness in your heart’ to share Ramshackle dorm with the SDC members. You had refused, of course, even after he tried to sweeten the deal by promising to pay for renovations to Ramshackle, which you knew were never going to happen. Crowley even had the audacity to promise to increase his exploration in a way home for you, which very almost had you throwing one of the books you had in front of you at him. You didn’t particularly want to upset the library ghosts. You managed to chase off Crowley by using the opening he had given you when he had brought up your home situation, with you pressing the Headmage on what exactly he had been doing this whole time. You were hoping that was the end of it, and if you just kept your head down and refused to cooperate, you could stay safely in the background.

But of course that wasn’t the end of it, because for some reason everyone at Night Raven College wanted to test your patience, even if you hadn’t officially met them yet.

You had left the library late that night, having gotten carried away reading one of the books you had sourced. Whilst the books that you read in an attempt to figure out a way home were often dense and confusing, you often came across interesting sections. You’d never dreamed that you’d be reading textbooks about magic, real magic, so it was so easy to get lost when interesting tidbits about forgotten magical practices or magical artifacts came up. You were startled when one of the library ghosts gave you a not so gentle fright to let you know it was late and you should probably go home, and you didn’t need any more persuading.

You were sure that Grim had probably fended for himself for dinner and you wondered if he would be that upset if you snagged one of his tins of tuna for himself as you crossed over the threshold into Ramshackle. You yawned, not bothering to cover your mouth, and attempting to stretch your stiff shoulders and back as you slowly ambled through the walkway towards the kitchen.

“If you paid more attention to your posture, you wouldn’t be feeling stiff at all.”

You froze in the walkway when you heard that familiar voice that shouldn’t feel familiar.

You doubled back several steps until you were looking in through the doorway towards the lounge, where none other than Vil Schoenheit sat on your couch, demurely sipping from one of your mugs. Your expression must have said it all, because he brought the mug away from his lips and raised an elegant eyebrow at you.

“Must you gawk? It does nothing for your features.”

You hadn’t even realised your mouth was hanging open, and you promptly snapped it shut. “What are you doing here?” You stuttered out before you managed to regain some of your composure, “I told the Headmage I wasn’t interested in hosting the NRC Tribe, so if he told you that—”

“I know what you said. I’m here because I think you should reconsider.” Vil remarked, a certain haughtiness in his tone that told you he thought you were being unnecessarily difficult. He gestured toward a free seat on the sofa, as if it was his lounge, not yours.

You blinked, slightly taken back by the audacity before you leaned heavily on the doorframe, pinching the bridge of your nose as that familiar feeling of frustration that you got when you had to deal with any of characters pestering you began to build in your bones. “Look—” You began.

“No, sit. We will be having a proper discussion about this.” Vil cut you off with an air of authority, one wielded by someone who often got their way, one way or another. Your eyes narrowed, your hand dropping from your face so Vil could feel the full impact of your disdain. “This is my dorm, Schoenheit, you should be treating me with more respect. You can’t order me around here.”

Vil gave you a smile that was as demeaning as it was beautiful. “Of course. But we are both housewardens, and housewardens should treat each other with mutual respect, no? The least you could do is give me the courtesy of a discussion.”

If you never had to deal with another housewarden again, it would be too soon.

You huffed but relented, moving over towards one of the sofas and all but threw yourself down, with elicited another eyebrow raise from Vil. Your phone tumbled out of your pocket on impact, lighting up in all its cracked glory and drawing Vil’s eye. “You should really get that fixed.” Vil commented dryly, and you scoffed whilst flipping it over, hiding it from his critical gaze.

“There is nothing you can say that will convince me to host the NRC Tribe here, so you’re just wasting your breath.” You said bluntly, hoping to end this pointless conversation quickly, but Vil didn’t look phased.

“I thought you might say that, so lets just cut to the negotiations. If you allow the NRC Tribe to stay here until the SDC concludes, Rook and I shall donate our share of the prize to Ramshackle dorm. Should we win, of course.” Vil looked at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes.

“Crowley already tried to bribe me, and I’m not buying it.” You responded cooly, “I don’t intend to stay at Ramshackle, or even Twisted Wonderland, long enough to enjoy any benefit from allowing the NRC Tribe to stay here.” A bluff, considering you had no new leads on how to get home, but Vil didn’t seem to catch on, “also, all that hinges on the NRC Tribe actually winning the SDC. Not saying I don’t have any faith…” Which of course you don’t, you know the outcome. “… But as I’ve already made clear, I really don’t want to host, especially not out the goodness of my heart.”

To his credit, Vil seemed to be mulling over your words, placing his mug of tea down so he could fold his arms gracefully in front of him. “Ah yes, I see… The Headmage did mention you had been researching quite steadfastly. You know, tenacity is the pillar of Pomefiore…” You swear you could see a hint of respect in his eyes as he looked on at you approvingly, before he continued on with his train of thought, “then how about something more short term to sweeten the deal? Such as…” His eyes darted down to your poor phone. “Perhaps I could arrange for your phone to be fixed?”

You scoffed. “Who are you, Azul?” Vil frowned at that comparison, looking a little affronted. Good.

“How about this, then. The NRC Tribe stays here for the time that we need, and that’ll be it. You won’t be expected to carry out any support duties, nor give us any of your time. Furthermore, I’ll provide groceries for the full duration that we are at Ramshackle, and I won’t tell Crowley about it. Perhaps then you can put your living allowance for that month towards something to help with your research? All you need to do is allow us use of your free rooms and living space for a limited period. And of course, if NRC tribe are victorious at the SDC, I still intend to donate my share of the prize to Ramshackle.”

It was a tempting offer.

What you wanted was to not be involved with the SDC at all, and this allowed you to do that. You wouldn’t be the manager, or support in any form. You wouldn’t even have to see the NRC Tribe if you didn’t want to, you’re pretty sure you could negotiate further with Vil that the members weren’t to disturb you at all during their stay. You had already seen how Vil had ruled with an iron fist during the story, if it got him what he wanted, he would see it done.

But… With the NRC Tribe staying at Ramshackle, there was a risk that Ace and Deuce would gravitate towards you, and then Grim would get dragged in, which would likely end with you getting caught up and… You shook your head, looking towards Vil resolutely. “No, that’s not going to work for me. Sorry, but the NRC Tribe are going to have to find somewhere else for their training camp.”

Vil stared at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was studying you before he sighed, twisting his wrist around elegantly to check the time. “I’ll allow you to sleep on it. We can continue this topic again in the morning. Its time for me to retire for the evening, I don’t want to waste the effects of that herbal tea.”

You crooked an eyebrow as Vil stood, following suit shortly after. He drank a sleep tea in your dorm, even though he had to walk back to his own dorm? Odd, but each to their own. Maybe it was a Pomefiore thing? You did vaguely remember from the game that Vil set strict standards for himself…

You followed him out of the lounge, planning on giving him the courtesy of walking him to the door. Whilst he had invaded your home, he had been civil, which was more than you could say about half the other people on campus who pestered you on campus.

Of course, you had no idea just how deeply Vil had taken root in your home during your absence.

As you left the lounge, Vil turned towards the staircase instead of continuing down the walkway to where the main doors lie. “Uh, Vil. Wrong way. The entrance is this way.” You directed politely, only for Vil to continue walking. As he reached the first stair, he looked over his shoulder at you, with a look you could only describe as coy.

“Didn’t I mention, my dear? I’ve already moved in.”

For the second time that evening, your jaw dropped. Was he serious?!

“Vil—” You began, but he was already continuing up the stairs, clearly unbothered by your surprise and discontent. “I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early to continue our discussion. Sleep well, Prefect.”

You could only watch as Vil climbed the stairs and disappeared deeper into Ramshackle, hearing the creaky sound of the door of the room he had chosen opening and closing as he retired for the night. You were rendered absolutely speechless. You had never anticipated something like this happening. Even without agreeing to having the NRC Tribe stay at Ramshackle for their training camp, you still had Vil Schoenheit staying here anyway?! You scrubbed your hands over your tired face in frustration.

Just what else were you in for?

[gemini-sensei]

Everything Has Changed | Cobra!Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz x Chubby!LaRusso!Reader

CW: teen pregnancy, angst, crying, kind of enemies to lovers.

Reader felt her heart leap into her throat as she stared down at the stupid plastic stick in her had. Pregnant.

"Fuck," she huffed and hit the wall with her fist out of frustration. "Dad is gonna freak the fuck out."

Her heart thumped hard in her chest as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. How one earth was she supposed to explain this to him or the rest of her family? What would she tell her friends? Her sister especially.

And of course the guy she slept with, multiple times after heated arguments and near spitting vile names at each other. How was she supposed to tell the most annoying, egotistical guy she knew that she was pregnant with his baby?

She didn't want to think about it but all the troubles invaded her mind anyway. With a huff and a deep breath, she harshly wiped away her tears and tossed the pregnancy test in the trash. However, when she looked in the bathroom mirror, she felt sick to her stomach.

Here she was, a LaRusso knocked up in high school...

"What the Hell am I going to do?"

As the days went by, Reader tried to act as if everything was fine. She went to school, did everything she had to, and made excuses as to why she couldn't go to karate afterward. She skipped going to the dojo, telling her dad and sister that she was hanging out with friends or needed to do homework. Before they could object, she slipped away and didn't let them get a word in.

It worked for a while but she knew that sooner or later, she was going to have to either get more creative in her excuses or tell them the truth. She really didn't want to do the latter, so she started making up all sorts of things to tell them. Her absences eventually reached her mother, who gently confronted her one night while doing the dishes after dinner.

"So, are you avoiding your father or are you just sick of karate?" she asked.

Reader scrubbed a plate and kept her head down. Another lie slipped past her lips with ease as she spoke. "I'm sick of it. I just didn't want to hurt Dad's feelings. You know how he gets."

Her mom let out a small laugh. "That I do. Well, I'll talk to him and make him ease up on ya. How does that sound?"

"Like a dream."

But the word didn't stop there. It traveled through the karate community and reached one mohawked menace's ears.

While walking to the library during one of her classes, Reader was suddenly grabbed by the elbow. She pulled her arm out of her unwanted company's hand and turned to him with a glare, staring Hawk down as he smirked. She spat, "What do you want?"

"Heard you were quitting Miyagi-Do," he said, an amusement in his tone. "Heard your dad's a pain in the ass, so I thought I'd come to extend an irrefutable offer to you."

"No dice," she said and put her head forward, continuing her walk. He annoyingly followed, so she continued. "Like Hell I'd even join that pitiful excuse you call a dojo. Besides, I didn't quit karate. I'm on a break."

"That's so lame," he huffed. She could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. "Come on, you'll like it. It's a whole lot better than that lame Miyagi-Do crap you do."

"First of all, are you even listening to me? I said I'm taking a break," she said, not sparing him a glance. "Second of all, don't disrespect Mr. Miyagi like that. He shared his culture with my father and was like a grandfather to me. Just because you have a different way of doing karate doesn't make my way wrong."

"Jeez, chill out, LaRusso," he grunted. He glared at her, but there was a glint in his eyes. "What's got your mood so sour?"

She ignored him as she walked into the library, but it was futile as he followed behind her. She tried to walk faster than him, though unfortunately for her, she was tired and her body was a little sore. He caught up fast and stayed behind her as she browsed the shelves. However, she couldn't do that for long when he turned her around and pinned her against the bookcase, looking at her with that same glint in his eyes.

"Have I ever told you how you're kinda hot when you're pissed off?" he asked.

She looked at him, her breath caught in her throat. His hot breath fanned her face and made her knees weak, a fact she hated to admit to because he was so annoying. His bad-boy attitude was what both frustrated and attracted her to him, not that they'd ever discussed stupid things like feelings. They screwed around when things got tense; when their adrenaline was up from throwing insults at each other; when words escaped them and the only thing to do was smash their lips into each other and tear one another's clothes off.

But that couldn't happen this time, so she put her hands on his chest to prevent him from getting any closer. He gave her a weird look, almost offended.

"What? Tired of me too?" he asked.

"Grow up," she huffed and tried to shove him away, but he remained sturdy in his position.

He shook his head. "Be real with me, Reader. If you wanna me a bitch and go fuck someone else, then just tell me. There's plenty of other girls I could go to."

When she didn't say anything, he started to pull away. That was when she grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and pulled him back. He had to catch himself on the bookcase behind and he almost missed the words she hissed out.

"I'm pregnant, you fucking asshole."

He stared at her, holding himself over her, eyes slowly going wide as what she said set in. She watched the seething Cobra melt away, leaving behind a terrified teenage boy who was just as scared as the teenage girl in front of him. It broke her.

It broke her because if the all-mighty Hawk was scared, what did that mean?

She looked away from him as tears came to her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ..."

Reader would have crumpled to the ground had he not been there to catch her. He held her up by her arms but unlike all the other times he held her, his grip wasn't rough or tight. It was firm and gentle.

"Are you fucking serious?" he asked dumbly.

She nodded, afraid to look at him as she quietly cried into her hand. She also didn't want to show him her tears, her weakness. It was too much to think about, stupidly so given the bombshell she'd just delivered to him. Why was she so concerned if he saw her cry? There were bigger fish to fry.

Then he did something unexpected. He hugged her.

His warmth suddenly became something different, something she never expected to feel from him. It wasn't lustful. It wasn't just body heat. It was comforting. So she buried her face in his chest and cried as quietly as she could, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him back.

Reader didn't know what he was thinking. She couldn't begin to imagine what was going through his head. Perhaps it was similar thoughts to what she had when she found out about the pregnancy, but unless she asked then she'd have no way of knowing. She didn't have it in her to ask at that moment though. All she could do was cry and he let her.

It wasn't as if Reader was new to keeping secrets from her family. She'd snuck out of the house numerous times without her parents knowing and she'd been fucking Hawk behind her sister's back. They were so wrapped up in their own problems that they didn't realize she was gone most of the time. However, hiding a pregnancy was a lot harder than anything else, mostly because it was frustrating.

The hardest night came when her dad made sushi for dinner.

Reader sat with her family as they enjoyed their meal and she sat quietly poking it with her chopsticks. It sucked not being able to eat a family favorite. She was starving and her parents had made the one thing she couldn't eat, not that they knew that.

"What's the matter, Reader?" her dad asked from his seat. He looked at her concerned, shifting his eyes between her and the plate in front of her. "You've hardly touched your food."

She felt a little tense. Everyone's eyes turned onto her and she hated it. She pushed her plate away and lied. "I'm not that hungry."

"You've hardly eaten today, you should really it," her mom said, pushing the plate back in front of her.

It was true, she hadn't eaten much, but that was because of the massive waves of nausea.

She pushed the plate away again and tried to ignore the way her stomach felt like it was going to eat itself. It was just her luck that on a night like this, her dad made sushi of all things. "Really, I'm not that hungry."

"Is something wrong?" her dad asked. It was the final straw on her already tense and hormonal back.

"I'm fine! God, why can't you guys just leave me alone?" she shouted, pushing herself away from the table and standing up. She stomped upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut, tears pricking the corners of her eyes by the time she made it there. She loved the door to make sure no one followed her inside, knowing that was exactly what her dad or Sam would do.

She sat in bed for a while, waiting for the tears to stop, but they didn't. It was like a dam had burst from behind her eyes and now she couldn't make the tears stop. She did the only thing she could think of to do; she texted Hawk.

"So you haven't told your parents yet?" Hawk asked as he unwrapped a taco. He looked up at Reader as they sat in his cat. She was using the middle console as a little table as she poured sauce packets on her taco. He couldn't help watching her.

She felt his eyes on her and she didn't mind it so much as before. He'd been looking at her all night ever since he picked her up from her house. It somehow made her feel better, probably because he was the only person that knew what she was going through.

She looked up at him and shook her head. "No, my dad is gonna freak out and try to kill you when he finds out."

"I can handle myself," Hawk said, unafraid of Mr. LaRusso.

She hummed. "You won't say that when he's coming after you."

"I'm not scared of your dad, Reader."

"Yeah, okay," she said, then bit into her taco. Her cheeks were still stained with tear tracks but she didn't bother to clean them up. She was too tired and too hungry to be bothered with such a silly thing. So she decided to enjoy her tacos in silence.

Well, as much silence that could be achieved with the radio playing modern pop music. It was low and not really noticeable until the pair quieted down. That was how they sat for several minutes until they both finished their meal.

Reader disrupted the upbeat pop song playing by crinkling her taco wrappers and tossing them back into the bag from which they came. Hawk took the bag from her and hopped out of the car to walk it to the trashcan nearby. It allowed Reader to sit back and really look at the situation she'd gotten herself into; here she was with a student from the dojo her father hated, was bitter rivals with, eating tacos in a parking lot like it was a normal everyday thing to do. Oh, and she was pregnant with his baby, to top things off.

It was a hot mess and as she realized this, the storm of emotions reemerged. However, rather than let it get the best of her, Reader turned up the radio's volume and sang along to the Taylor Swift song that was playing.

When Hawk returned, he was met with the blasting volume and Reader singing at the top of her lungs. He slipped into the car, watching her carefully before turning the volume down a little bit.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked at him, pausing her serenade. "I don't know."

"Why's that?"

"Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm pregnant in high school and my dad is gonna kill me when he finds out," she said, sighing heavily. Then she shook her head. "Well, no, that's not true. He'll kill you and I'll be unscathed except for the fact that I know he's gonna be majorly disappointed and somehow that's worse than him being mad enough to commit murder."

Hawk reached over to her and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. He offered as much comfort as he could, being the boy who had knocked her up and had yet to tell his own parents. A part of him understood the immense amount of pressure she was under but only a small fraction of it because he wasn't the one that was pregnant. He was just the guy.

Still, he offered his support. "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

"It doesn't feel like it," she mumbled.

They sat in silence for another few minutes, aside from the radio. She put her hand on his, accepting his comforting gesture. It helped soothe her mind, let her forget about the troubles that she would have to face, and allowed her to push them away again. He reminded her that she wasn't totally alone in all of this, which was what she had expected to come after she told him she was pregnant.

After all, he was a total jerk. At least that was what she was led to believe. He was a part of Cobra Kai, the asshole assembly that terrorized her sister and friends on a near-daily basis.

However, as they sat in his car under the lights of streetlamps and the Taco Town neon sign, she didn't see a Cobra.

She saw the boy who was scared of everything, the one he tried to erase from everyone's memory. No matter how hard he tried, he now sat in front of her, hair down, closed off to the world, quiet. Deep in thought, he didn't say anything, and he looked like a brief memory more than a person. He looked like Hawk, but she remembered-

"Eli..."

He looked up at her, a little shocked to hear that name fall from her lips. She spoke it softly, testing the waters. However, unlike how he lashed out at Demetri for using that name, his eyes softened from their startled state and he met her eye.

"Yeah?"

"What are we gonna do?"

He licked his lips and croaked, "I don't know..."

It fell silent again. The radio played. She looked down at their hands and sighed, letting the question and answer go. She was too tired to think about it or try to figure things out.

Then the song changed. It was an Ed Sheeran love song. The air filled with soft melodies and sweet tones. Reader felt awkward as it came on and tried to pull her hand away but he held it firmly, making her look up. Her heartbeat picked up when their eyes met again. He drew closer and she felt a magnetic pull as the nerves faded away. Their lips brushed against each other gently at first, then fully came together in a soft, long kiss.

She slipped a hand into his hair and his other hand came up to hold her waist. Their joined hands stayed together and he squeezed her hand, leaning into her to deepen the kiss. She let out a small moan, melting into it. Something about it was better than any other kiss she'd ever had.

But she was scared to pull away. So when it ended, she sighed and didn't open her eyes. Softly, she asked, "This can't be fake."

He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath before she looked at him. "I mean, if you're feeling obligated to be with me... because of the baby..."

He stared at her, then cupped her face and brought her lips to his once more. "I'm only obligated to be here because this is my baby too, but that's not why I'm kissing you. Reader... I've always had feelings for you."

"You hated me a few months ago."

"Before any of that," he told her. She stared at him, questing in entirely. "I never hated you. I could never hate you, Reader LaRusso."

She licked her lips. "Before?"

He nodded. "Way before."

She smiled softly, assured that this wasn't just circumstantial. And she kissed him again.

[ozzgin]

Greetings! How you doing today/tonight?

This is not a request or anything

Hopefully you're doing fine, cuz I'm not, I have a shitty cold rn and I just finished 5 tissue roll papers in just a few hours

Anyway this ain't about me, just wanted to see how you were doing since I've been a bit inactive with tumblr with the past few days

Have a great day/night :3

-🎧anon

Aww, sorry to hear that. We’re definitely entering cold/flu season. Mid-October I’ve gotten ill with some virus, no idea what it was, but I had no other symptoms other than terribly swollen sinuses. Which, in turn, pressed on my tooth nerves, so I had massive tooth pain for days. Never dealt with anything like that before and it sounds downright ridiculous, turns out it’s an actual thing. Start taking immunity supplements and avoid visibly sick people!

I know you said it’s not a request, but I couldn’t help the thought of “How would the Baki characters take care of you?” So I did write some short headcanons after all. For you and anyone else currently bedridden. :)

Baki Characters x Sick! Reader

Featuring Baki and Jack Hanma, Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi and Pickle. And a reader that’s battling a cold!

Baki Hanma

There are two stages of Baki’s involvement. Once you’re not answering his calls he will be at your front door, worried and considering ways to break in. That’s when he hears the muffled coughing and sneezing through the walls and figures it out: You’re sick. He’ll return with a bag of supplies and offer to stay at your place until you feel better. His help consists of quick Google searches, because he’s never had anyone doting on him and consequently has no idea how to care for someone in such situations.

Second and final stage is him getting sick from you. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night to see him trying to hold back his cough, at first denying his poor health until you touch his forehead and it’s burning. The bad news is that you’re both bedridden. Baki is beyond embarrassed, attempting to justify himself and explaining it has never happened before. Eventually one of his or your friends will show up and pay the occasional visit to play nurse. At least you’re not suffering alone. You’re not sure if it’s an actual saying, but you’re tempted to believe colds go away faster in good company.

Jack Hanma

You don’t want to interfere with Jack’s routine, so once you wake up with the familiar sore muscles, you decide to quietly recover from home. Jack notices your absence and while he does not want to be nonchalant and potentially impose on your personal troubles, he can’t help the curiosity. In fact, he spends the whole training time wondering why you’ve skipped your usual visits. So when you hear a knock on the door you don’t think twice about opening it. Probably your food delivery. Only when you notice Jack’s massive frame blocking any outside view, you gasp in surprise.

“Oh. You seem to be ill.” Is all he states before turning on his heels and leaving. You stand there baffled and eventually return to your warm bed. Just as you cozy up, there’s another knock and you groan, throwing the blankets off of you. This better be the hot soup you ordered. Except it’s Jack again, holding not only your delivery, but also multiple other bags with groceries peeking out. “Y-you’re back?” You mumble. “Well, can’t do much empty handed. Here’s your order, but I got some extra things to help with your cold”, he states as he invites himself in.

Kaiou Retsu

You know Retsu will be worried about you, so you try your best to mask the symptoms over the phone. “That’s a stuffed nose. Are you sick?” He immediately points out. Uh oh. You fumble with some excuses and he promptly hangs up. Have you upset him? You’re starting to feel bad. He’s never dropped out of a conversation like this before. You try to call back several times until you’re distracted by the sound of your doorbell. You’re not in the mood for visitors. You continue your attempts to reach Retsu as you approach the door and open it. “I suspected as much.” Your head snaps up hearing the familiar voice.

Before you can say anything, you’re casually lifted up and brought to your bed. As if he’s been doing it his entire life, the Kenpo master tucks you in and pulls out an apron from his bag. “I’ll check what ingredients you already have in your pantry and go buy the rest. Before that, I’ll make you a tea. Any preferences?” You open your mouth to speak, but he’s already walking away, describing the best choice of drink for the common cold. Really, the best thing you can do right now is to rest and leave everything else to him.

Katsumi Orochi

Usually, Katsumi will avoid using the spare key you’ve given him. On the other hand, he was supposed to pick you up for your regular date night and you haven’t answered his persistent knocking, so you leave him little choice. He quietly apologizes for the intrusion as he unlocks the door and tiptoes his way in. The lights are off and he’s becoming increasingly anxious, almost sprinting to your bedroom. He stops in his tracks once he sees you buried under the blankets, passed out and sweaty from an obvious cold.

Ah. Well, that makes sense. He smiles to himself and gently pats your forehead to make sure it’s nothing serious, then sneaks out of the room. You wake up hours later, groggy and sore. It suddenly occurs to you that you’ve slept through your date and jolt up, nearly collapsing in the process. You erratically search for your phone and call Katsumi to apologize. Simultaneously you hear his ringtone nearby, so you limp outside, confused. As you reach the kitchen, a pleasant smell invades your nostrils. Katsumi turns to look at you. “You’re awake! I made something to help with your cold. I’ll bring it to your bed, so you can go back and rest. We can’t skip our romantic dinner.” He chuckles after the last statement.

Pickle

Pickle has been ill at least once in his life, so he can quickly guess that your coughing and runny nose is not something that’s supposed to happen on the regular. Although, if he’s honest, he has no idea what he should do. He’d deal with his sickness by just sleeping it out, or downright ignoring it. Seeing you like this, however, fills him with an overwhelming desire to help you. He does love you, after all. Witnessing your suffering isn’t something he does with ease.

He manages to gesture the situation to Baki, who follows him back to your place and proceeds to do the first aid he’d sporadically learned over the years. A rather clumsy attempt, but it’s better than nothing. Once Pickle has observed the steps, he swiftly shoos the young boy away. All he needed was a little bit of demonstration, some brief instruction on the modern ways. Everything else will be done by him. It’s only proper that the actual care is performed by your partner. You’re a little afraid of the potential outcome to this experiment. Especially once you hear the loud rattles coming from the kitchen. Don’t worry, it’s all made with love.

*My partner has insisted that I include Yuujirou Hanma just to say that he’d tenderly piss on you. I compromised on a footnote.

[hauntedwitch04]

Bday secret party

Remus Lupin x reader

Words: about 2.0k words

Warnings: pure and awesome fluff (after yesterday ahaha), lovely Remus, my obsession with Edimburgh

Author's note: Hi! Here another one shot fo the series for my birthday. Hope you like it loves.

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Bday plan

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"James, I swear if you said anything to her I will hang you upside down from the astronomy tower for an entire day." Remus says in a particularly annoyed and contrite tone.

The young werewolf immediately felt guilty for talking that way to his friend, but at the same time he couldn't believe that James had almost screwed up the whole plan he had designed to put on your birthday party. He had been planning everything down to the last detail for a month now, to make sure everything is perfect on your big day, and he couldn't let a chatty deer ruin everything just because he's careless.

He sees pure fear in his friend's eyes after threatening him with one of his greatest fears: height.

"Sorry." Whispers James, as he backs away slowly to make room for his friend, seeing that he is stressed right now. "But I swear she didn't understand anything. It just slipped out that I had to see you to arrange something, and I said it was my gift to her." Potter continues, as he looks at Sirius, who up to this moment had been silent. Immediately his best friend understands the plea for help and nods.

"Yes, she didn't understand anything, we were very good at lying to her." Says the older Black, as Regulus runs a hand over his face, remembering the scene that took place a short time ago in the Great Hall. Indeed James and Sirius had been good at creating a believable excuse, but I young Black knows you better than you think, and he had seen in your eyes the seed of doubt, and he knows that this is not good at all. In your group of friends you are known for having a sixth sense and a spirit of observation so keen that sometimes it seems you can read people's minds and, even, the future. The very moment they've said their shit, Regulus knows that some strange mechanisms have been activated in your mind that have caused you to weigh all possible options, and so he knows they're screwed.

"No, you have to excuse me. I didn't think organizing a birthday was so hard, but at the same time I want everything to be perfect for her, because she deserves it." Remus confesses, as he holds his head in his hands, trying to relax.

"You know she's going to say you're overreacting anyway and she doesn't deserve it." Regulus comments, as he puts away the last things for the party. Your birthday would be celebrated this evening, after a romantic walk between you and your fiancé. Remus had managed to convince the prefect with the Ravenclaw night shift to turn a blind eye, and would thus take you in front of the Room of Requirement, afterwards around the park, and there all your friends would surprise you. It was a well-thought-out plan, and it still doesn't explain how you didn't actually almost come to find out only today and not weeks before.

"Which is silly after all he gives every day for us." Sirius continues, as James nods, placing balloons on the wall. "Our mother deserves a proper celebration." The oldest Black concludes, making all three other boys laugh. "Ever since you and Remus got together, the boys started calling you the 'mom' of the group, since they always teased Remus for being their dad in a way, since he was the most responsible of the four.

When they finish laughing they go back to work to sort out the last few things for the party, knowing that it is now only a short time away. Right now you are supposed to be with the girls, whose job it is to distract you from the absence of your friends and your boyfriend, but Remus cannot help but keep fidgeting both behind every little detail and out of fear that at any moment you might walk in the door and find out why he has not been very close to you these past few weeks, but after all, part of him knows it might be because of the gift he gave you.

Remus keeps moving like a damned soul without rest for a while before Regulus stands up and blocks him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Man, everything is perfect, why don't you just relax for a moment?" The youngest among them asks the werewolf, but immediately Regulus sees in his friend's eyes that there is something else and not just what they are preparing that is upsetting him.

"There is something that doesn't give you peace." Regulus comments, and Remus says nothing, and just looks at him. "It's not like it's the gift you gave her, is it?" The Slytherin continues, marveling at the Gryffindor in front of him.

"How did you do that?" Lupin asks, increasingly shocked by young Black's prowess, when the other in response merely laughs.

"You were playing with a little box earlier, and can one read the doubt and fear in your eyes?" Regulus explains, continuing to laugh, while Remus in response rolls his eyes and looks at the clock, seeing that it was almost time to see you, so he gets up.

"It's almost time for our walk. Take care guys, the others should be here soon. Don't screw up please." Lupin asks as he looks at his friends, who reassure him and give him pats of encouragement.

"Go and return victorious with the lady messer Lupin." Sirius says, giving him a sort of bow, just before Remus walks out the door. He turns and as a last thing gives him a middle finger, after promising never to let him see "The princess bride" again.

Remus could feel his own heart beating in his throat as he saw you coming downstairs in simple jeans and his favorite sweater. You are simply perfect in his eyes, and nothing could change his mind.

"Finally, it seems like I haven't seen you in forever. Where have you been until now?" You ask curiously, seeing him a little stressed. "Are you okay? You look a little pale honey."

Immediately his heart warms at hearing your concern, and he can't help but think that maybe those nutty friends of his are right to call you "mom," and gently the boy shakes his head.

"I'm fine honey, maybe I just need to get some air. Would you like to take a ride with me?" He asks, and he doesn't even have to wait a second for an answer, as like a hurricane you pounce on him, taking him under your arm and running toward the school grounds. You walk around the lawns for a while, laughing and joking like you haven't in a long time. Nothing could dent your mood, and nothing exists apart from each other at this moment.

From the outside, one can see obvious the love you feel for the other person, only from your eyes, more than from your gestures, which seem to sing the most beautiful love song ever heard.

Hours seem to pass, then Remus looks at his watch and realizes that you are running late, so with the excuse that he has to catch another prefect in one of the side corridors to get the keys to a closet for the next prank James and Sirius are planning, he takes you in front of the mystery room. He's never felt more flustered than he does right now, and he's doubtful whether to give you the gift now or later, when you, damned curious as usual, lean out and touch the door.

"How come the room of needs is visible?" Ask curiously, as you watch him break into a cold sweat and try to play the part of the one who hides nothing.

"I have no idea my dear, try opening it and see what's behind it." Try suggesting Remus, as he rests a hand on your shoulder to guide you into the darkness of the room that opens before you. A few seconds pass and just as you're wondering what the point of it all is, the lights come on and all your friends pop out from behind couches and armchairs, shouting who "surprise" who "happy birthday," but all with beaming smiles on their lips as they come to hug you.

You immediately feel tears in your eyes, which you let run, because of the happiness and excitement they made you feel seeing so many people gathered to celebrate you.

Once you've greeted everyone you turn to Remus, who looks at you smiling, his hands behind his back.

"Did you arrange everything?" You ask in amazement as you look around and try to memorize every single detail of everything around you. "You didn't have to-"

"Yes I had to. You deserve this and much more than I can give you, you deserve the world, indeed the universe. And it wasn't just me, everyone helped me in some way." He interrupts you, as he circles your shoulders with one arm, and you hold him even tighter to you, squeezing his waist. "I love you, and all I want to do is remind you of that every day, but today especially, after all it's your day, and we all came here just for you, because we all love you, me more than all of them." He continues, resting his forehead on yours. Then he freezes for a moment, right for a few seconds and pulls out a box from his pants pocket.

"I want to give you my present now, because I want you to think about it." He says and you, confused for the umpteenth time this evening, wipe away the last of your tears and then pick up the box he is handing you. It is a black velvet box, and when you open it you see a pair of keys. You look up not understanding what they were, so your boyfriend explains.

"These are the keys to an apartment in Edinburgh, in your favorite area, which I may or may not have asked an old family friend to rent to me and my girlfriend, once I finished school, if she wanted to move in with me. What do you say, what will she decide?" He asks as he strokes your face and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You can't help but cry again before you go back to hugging him, just enough to take his breath away, your arms wrapped around his neck.

"I don't even have to think about it, the answer is obviously yes idiot." You whisper between the kisses you leave all along his face, making him laugh, while a few tears escape him as well. "You know you're pretty dumb for the smartest guy I know, it was obvious my answer was yes. And me thinking for a moment today that you had found a new girlfriend and were going to break up with me, damn how stupid I am."

Both of you laugh, still clasped in each other's arms, enjoying that closeness you had missed so much.

"I love you more than my own life, how could I ever look for another girl, when I have the most perfect girl that exists in the whole universe?" Remmy says in a whisper in your ear.

"I love you too Lupin, but you don't have to suck up, look you've already won your reward tonight." You counter by winking at him and he jokes by raising his eyebrows and whispering "I won, let's hurry up and leave this party then," making you laugh, until that sweet moment is interrupted as usual by the grace of Sirius Mr.Elegance of the Year Black.

"Do you want to be part of the party too, or are you going to be lovebirds the whole party?" He asks to throw a handful of confetti at you.

"I guess your reward will have to wait for Lupin." You say, as you hear him laugh, and together you go to enjoy this party with your friends, while in your mind already what will happen tonight in your own personal after party.

TAGLIST

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[urhoneycombwitch]

witch of ages, cleft for me [part I]

🍯 honey flavour: Christmas-themed fluff and comfort

🐝 the bees: Eddie x greenwitch!reader, ft. The Gang (special appearance by Max Mayfield herself)

wc: 3.8k

Content warnings: weed mention, cussing, reader is given a nickname (Poppy), fem verbiage/motifs used for reader, r is a witch with a troubled home life, fluff, pov Eddie for part I.

foreword: new series alerrrrrt. self-inserty? MAYHAPS. I’ve endeavored to keep reader neutral enough for general x reader purposes while still givin’ her some flavour. please lmk if I need to update the cw to make things more clear. smut in later chapters planned so MDNI. happy readin’!

Christmas has never been Eddie’s favorite holiday.

When he was a kid, and his mom was still around, sure- he’d do the whole peppermint sticks in cocoa, snowman-making schtick, but that was ‘cuz his mom was his favorite person and, well, shit, he didn’t have any Scrooge-like tendencies back then. He was just a kid.

The lack of holiday cheer came later, settled in around teenage-dom, never quite left. Eddie can count on one hand the number of memorable Christmases he’s had, and this one sure won’t be added to the list.

Wayne had made a valiant effort that morning to distribute the cheer- holiday radio buzzing tinny over the stove while he flipped pancakes for the two of them. Didn’t even grouse at Eddie for taking a premature smoke break. Over breakfast, he’d slid a brown paper-wrapped parcel across the table and said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Wayne,” Eddie teased, slamming a hand in the middle of his chest, syrupy palm sticking to the old band t-shirt he was wearing- “I thought we said no gifts. You’re going soft on me, old man.”

“Old man my ass,” Wayne had muttered, but Eddie was already tearing into the paper.

It was a killer gift. Special edition Tolkein, bound in red leather, gold lettering and vines curling around the sides. 

Eddie was stunned into silence as he turned the book over in his hands. Wayned tapped the edge of the chipped mug he held, thoughtfully. 

“You survived this year, boy. That’s something to celebrate.”

Clearing his throat that’d gone stuffy with emotion, Eddie flipped through the pages reverently. “Well, shit. I keep up my living streak and you get me a sword replica next year, that what you’re tellin’ me?”

Wayne had chuckled, then risen from the table to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

He’d offered to take Eddie along on his Christmas Day Drive (as he’d called it, which was actually just code for Wayne and his fishing buddies getting sloshed on schnapps in some dingy Hawkins living room), but Eddie had declined (assuring Wayne that no, actually, he wasn’t gonna be moping around the house- in fact, Steve’s throwing a party and he’s gonna go).

Which they both knew was code for Eddie staying home and getting high. Wayne took his time getting out the door, shuffling around the kitchen, instructing Eddie to eat something in his absence, finally taking off in that rickety excuse for a pickup just before noon.

Which suited Eddie fine. Really. He was sprawled out on the couch now, arms lax above his head, dozing catlike, thinking about lighting up one of those joints rolling around under his bed. Trying not to think about you.

And sure, yeah, maybe he stayed home ‘cuz he was hoping you’ll call. The holidays are making him sentimental, not pathetic. 

‘Kay, maybe a little pathetic.

You’d been over at the trailer last night, curled into his side on the couch while Wayne snoozed in the corner chair, It’s A Wonderful Life playing for no one in particular, when you’d told him quietly that you weren’t gonna be around the next day.

“You mean for Christmas?” He’d asked, rubbing a smooth path up and down your arm. “How come?”

Your fingers plucked a steady rhythm at one of his shirt buttons, head resting on his chest, so all he saw was the crown of your head while you explained. “I mean, I’d rather be here. With you and Wayne. It’s just… my dad asked me to hang out. And he never does, yanno? Least I can do is give my old man a few hours to try and make it up to me.”

Eddie was quiet for a bit. Even though you knew about his turbulent familial life (god knows he’d told you more about it than anyone else in his life- your fault for being such a goddamn good listener), he didn’t think a lecture about how disappointing fathers could be was quite appropriate. 

So he’d said “Sure, sweetheart, if that’s what you want,” and he’d kissed the top of your head, breathing in that earthy blend of cardamom and sweet mint that you’d tapped into your skin that morning, and you’d thanked him for understanding and gave him a kiss so soft he could’ve cried. 

You looked like you were going to cry, yourself, saying goodbye later that night in the doorway, backlit dreamily with soft streetlamps, arms wrapped tight around your frame to keep out the cold. 

He’d kissed you goodbye once, twice, got a little goofy with it and pressed quick manic kisses across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your eyelids that were scrunched with amusement, as if he was trying to memorize your face with his lips.

“Just one day apart. We can do that, right?” He’d said, holding you at arm’s length, trying to assure himself just as much as you. 

Your eyes were misty underneath the rim of your knitted hat, but you’d nodded, hiding the tremble in your bottom lip with a brave tilt to your chin. “Just one day apart.” And with a final kiss, you set off down the snow-covered path, waving a red-mittened hand over your shoulder before getting into your car.

So you weren’t gonna call today, Eddie knew that. He’d have you tomorrow, curled in his lap with that strange herbal tea that you were always trying to get him into, and you’d tell him all about your holiday with your dad that you lived with but barely knew. 

Just one day apart. He could deal with that, right?

Eddie groans, scrubbing his hands over his face and turning belly-down into the couch. 

The thing is, he’s not the overbearing type. At least, he tries not to be. But when you meet the girl of your dreams under circumstances such as the end of the world, you tend to be a little more on the anxious side of things. 

Eddie can’t actually remember the last time you’ve spent more than a few hours at a time apart in the last four months; at first it was you playing nurse, tending to Eddie for weeks after the demobats had fucked him up, rotating from couch to makeshift floor-bed that was probably hell on your back. Not that you’d complained. 

Those days were a narcotic-fueled haze in Eddie’s memories; the first week he really only surfaced when he smelled the bergamot wafting from your neck each time you leaned over to change his dressings, or when he heard the gentle tinkling of those delicate flower chain earrings and stacks of thin silver bracelets you wore.

And then your time spent by his side just sort of naturally… evolved, along with your feelings for each other. He’d been crushing since high school on the starry-eyed, quiet little thing that sat behind him in Kaminsky’s class. The fact that you were rumored to be a witch really only encouraged his flirting by the day. 

You weren’t so easily enamored with him- not playing hard to get, necessarily, but you never seemed to have time for romance- what with your whole saving the world thing. Information that Eddie was now privy to, after all that Upside Down shit. 

Eddie would have happily taken his crush to the grave (nearly did, he has Dustin to thank for dragging his bony ass topside) if it meant keeping things between you both smooth. Because it was smooth, easy, as natural as breathing, being around you. The fact that you made the first move as soon as he was healed up (on this very couch, no less) was a dream come true. You’d basically attacked his mouth, a story he loves to drag up at the most torturous times just to see you light up with embarrassment before he kisses it better.

So now you wear one of his guitar picks on a chain around your neck and he spends his spare change on moody 70s cassettes to stock in his van for the midnight drives he loves to take you on; neither of you want to put a boyfriend/girlfriend label on each other ‘cuz it feels weirdly trite, for the amount of intimacy you’ve got going on. 

Belonging, though, that’s a phrase you’ve both used before, to each other. You’re mine. You belong to me. Said sweetly and chastely during backyard BBQ’s at the Harrington house, with possessive fierceness between open-mouthed kisses, whispered cozily under the cover of thin sheets and sprawling nights. 

He was your boy, for sure. You were his girl. And fuck’s sake was this day without you dragging its goddamn heels.

Eddie pounds a closed fist into the couch cushion, petulantly, then shoves himself up and off, the metal chains at his hip clinking with the sudden movement. He roots around in his bedside table drawer, then the top of his bureau where you stash your clothes sometimes- clothes that probably still smell like you. If he’s gonna be pathetic, mind as well be really pathetic, right?

Eddie’s just pulling out one of your lacy tanktops with a victorious fist pump when there’s a knock at the front door. If it’s carolers interrupting this pity-party, he’s gonna lose his shit.

But it’s not carolers. It’s Max Mayfield, red braids poking out of a green knit hat that he knows for a fact you made her last winter. She’s holding a blue tin of Danish butter cookies, customary scowl on her freckled face.

“You gonna let me in or make me freeze to death? Don’t think I won’t call child services on you, Munson.”

She ducks under Eddie’s arm, and he lets the door shut behind her with a bang. “Look, Red, Merry Christmas and all that but I’m really not in the mood to-”

Max holds out the tin, bracketed by her fuzzy mittens. “These are for you. My mom’s making me take some ’round to all the neighbors.”

Eddie pops the lid and is mildly surprised to find not the customary butter cookies but a neat stack of gingerbread people, with gumdrops for buttons and chocolate chip eyes peeking out from the wax paper. 

He lifts an eyebrow at the girl, who’s dripping melted snow into his carpet, and can’t help but tease. “These look like they took some effort, Red. You treat all your neighbors this nice?”

Max glowers again, crossing her arms best she can against the thick puff of her coat sleeves. 

Eddie bites the head off one of the cookies and points the desiccated corpse in her direction. “You want something, huh.”

“No,” Max says, a little too quickly, then sighs, and cranes her neck down the hallway. “Not from you, anyways. Where’s Poppy?”

Eddie flinches a little at the nickname the kids all use for you (an homage to the red lipstick you used to wear, or maybe it was the detention you got for getting caught with a jar of the seeds on school property freshman year, the story changes each time he asks) and drops the partially-eaten cookie back in the box. “She’s not here today.”

“She’s here every day,” Max counters, still looking down the hallway hopefully.

“Trust me, I wish I was lying to you,” Eddie continues, snapping the tin closed and setting it on the kitchen counter. “She’s with her dad for Christmas.”

“Poppy is willingly spending time… with her dad… for Christmas?” Max repeats the information slowly, as if she thinks Eddie is not so bright.

He lets his silence and return scowl do the talking for him. Max stamps in place, knocking more snow onto the carpet, annoyance rolling into uncomfortability. “Uh. Okay. Well… I guess I’ll just… ride my bike to the party across town. In this blizzard,” she tacks on, pointedly.

There’s a beat of silence. Eddie drums his fingers against the countertop. It’s hardly a blizzard, and there’s less than an inch of snow on the ground, but he knows what you’d do, if you were here, which you usually are.

“Goddammit,” Eddie cusses, before snatching his keys off the hook behind Max’s head and stuffing his arms into his thermal flannel, muttering, “If she wasn’t actively making me a better person, you’d be a popsicle, Red.”

___

On the drive to Steve’s, Max pokes around in the dash and complains about the lack of Kate Bush before settling on a Fleetwood Mac tape and shoving it into the deck. 

Stevie Nicks croons Rihannon over the speakers, and Eddie thinks maybe he’ll get a few minutes of peace and quiet but no such luck. He’s making a slow turn onto the main road when Max asks, “What’s this?”

Eddie fights the urge to snatch the crushed velvet jewelry box out of Max’s mittened grasp and stares resolutely at the road. “I’m trying not to spin out and kill us in a fiery wreck, kid, would ya put that back where you found it?”

She bumps the dash compartment closed with her knee. “Someone’s testy today. Is it for Poppy?”

“Yes,” Eddie grits out, white-knuckling the wheel. “Christ, Max, you’re like the annoying little sister I never asked for. Would you put it-”

There’s a quiet snick as Max ignores him and opens the box. “C’mon, don’t you want a lady’s opinion?”

“Lady, my ass,” Eddie mutters. It’s pretty quiet in the passenger seat area all of a sudden, and he forces his gaze to stay safely on the snowy road as he asks, “Well?”

“Cute,” Max muses. She lifts the delicate chain from the box, the charm at the end swinging like a pendulum with the movement of the van. “A little on the nose, though, don’tcha think?”

Eddie was afraid of that. But when he saw the tiny poppy in perfect cast silver at a jewelry store on his big city excursion last month, he couldn’t help it. His girl makes him all sorts of mushy.

“Put it back,” he tells Max again, the fight going out of his voice, and she complies, this time, reaching out to pat his shoulder after reassembling the box.

“Don’t worry. Girls go crazy for that cheesy shit. Especially if they’re in love,” she says, sagely, gloved fingers absently playing with the gold heart locket around her own neck. 

“Uh huh,” Eddie says, with a pointed grin aimed sideways at the girl.

“Shut up.” Max flushes beet red, then reaches for the volume dial and cranks Stevie up to ten.

___

The Harrington house is a flurry of activity, apparently chosen as the main hub for the Gang and their various extensions. Mrs. Byers chirrups a hello as he passes the kitchen, Nancy waving a wooden spoon in greeting. There’s a cheer from the group of boys in various states of sprawl over a board game on the living room floor when Eddie clomps in, Max practically shoulder-checking him on her way to Lucas’s side. 

If anything, this party will be a welcome distraction from the silence that is his trailer without you. Eddie figures he’ll hang around for a bit, help eat up some of Harrington’s fancy holiday food, and dip into his weed reserves (that lacy tanktop of yours on his mind) before the bell tolls six.

After giving a dorky salute to his Hellfire kiddos, Eddie drops into the last available couch cushion: next to Argyle (silk black hair adorned with a pair of reindeer antlers), who turns sleepily and gives him a weed-laced lazy smile. 

“Heyyyy, brochacho. Where’s your girl? I still owe her some cold hard cash money for those morels,” Argyle says.

“She isn’t here.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe this party won’t be a good distraction after all, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t wanna keep bringing you up anyways. “What the hell are morels?”

“Mushrooms!” Jonathan pipes up from the end of the couch. Judging by the red eyes, he’s just as gone as Argyle. 

Eddie isn’t judging. Christmas is hell without the help of weed and pretty girls.

“Yeah, dude, mushrooms.” Argyle slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, talking over the raucous noise of the kids engaged in a tense game of Monopoly a few feet away. “She’s a wicked good forager. Better than my mushroom guy back in Cali by a loooong shot.”

“Morels are the ones that look like brains,” Jonathan says, focused on his attempt at a house made of paper money on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Brains,” Argyle confirms. This seems to set Jon off in a fit of giggles, and then Argyle starts up, snickering into his closed fist, and the sight is almost enough to get Eddie to crack a smile when Steve Harrington appears in the archway.

“Uh oh,” Jonathan says, practically spasmodic at this point, “His hands are on his hips. That means he’s pissed about something.”

“Would you chuckleheads knock it off?” Steve snaps, hands still set on his hips in prissy little fists when he rounds on Eddie. “And seriously, man, you couldn’t’ve waited until the afterparty to get them stoned?”

“What, you think I did this?” Eddie gasps in faux shock. “I’m real hurt, Stevie, that you think these fine established gentlemen would need my help in getting their hands on good kush.”

This sets the boys on the couch off into conniptions again, this time Dustin barking at them to “Keep it down, assholes, we’re getting cutthroat over here,” and Nancy calls out “Language!” from the kitchen, which has Mike yelling back at her, and Eddie is just starting to enjoy himself when Steve whips the towel previously over his broad shoulder at Eddie’s face.

“If you’re done wreaking havoc here there’s someone on the landline for you,” Steve says, bending down to wipe crumbs from the coffee table.

That wipes the smirk off Eddie’s face. He sits up ramrod straight. “Who?”

“Who do you think?” Steve shoots back, and then shouts at the board game group, “ALL right, which one of you little shits spilled orange soda on the rug?”

There’s a return yell of “LANGUAGE” from the kitchen as Eddie hustles down the hall, the noise of the party fading as he reaches the mounted wall phone. He nearly pulls the cord from its socket in his haste to get the receiver to his ear- “Shit- hello?”

“Hi, Eddie.” 

Eddie sags against the wall, letting his head tip back, eyes closed all the better to savor your voice- “Sweetheart. Thank god. I was dyin’ out here. Say my name again, would ya?”

“Eddie,” you laugh, and it’s chiding, but he doesn’t care, too flush with relief at hearing from you.

“How’s this nightmare of a holiday treatin’ my girl, hm?” he asks, settling the phone into the crook of his shoulder. If he had it his way, there’d be technology to laserbeam your voice permanently into his eardrums. 

“It’s okay,” you sigh down the line. “I tried calling you at the trailer first, then when it kept ringing I figured you were at Steve’s party.”

“Yeah, honey, I’m at Steve’s. You want me to come pick you up?” Eddie brightens at the idea, warming up to it the more he talks. “I mean, I’d keep you all to myself, but it’s Christmas and I’m feeling generous. All anyone’s asked about so far is where the hell my girl is at.”

“That’s sweet,” you reply, and Eddie thinks you sound a little distant, a little… off, somehow. “No, that’s okay. I’m not in a partying mood. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”

“Well you have it, sugar,” Eddie purrs. “You want me to read to you? There’s a real slick copy of the phone book hangin’ right next to me. Could really get you going.”

Eddie’s only partly joking. He’d happily read the yellow pages to you until his voice gave out if it meant keeping you on the line for a little longer.

He can picture you so clearly in his head- sitting pretty in that bay window, sock feet tucked under your thighs, twirling the phone cord around your fingers in anxious little twists as you speak softly- “That’s okay, Eds. You enjoy the party, okay? I’ll come by the trailer tomorrow morning with your gift.”

“Sure,” he replies, a little deflated. 

After saying his goodbyes, he hangs the phone back on the hook and returns to his spot on the couch, leg bouncing a frenzied beat amid the chaos.

He lasts about three minutes like this, which he feels is more than generous.

As he’s sliding his arms back into his green fleeced flannel, there are a few jeers from the peanut gallery about how “Eddie’s going to suck some face with his girlfriend”, which earns the room a halfhearted and generalized middle finger. 

Mrs. Byers stops him in the hallway, but it’s just to hand him two cling-wrapped plates of food with a warm, knowing sort of look about her.

And then Eddie’s off into the night to see his girl. 

___

okay hoped you like it gonna post pt. 2 soon follow if u wanna see when it comes out!!

[deeversuswords]

a/n: no inspiration? take a shower (joking, or maybe not?). ended up drafting a 3.6k words oneshot that'll probably end up not as one, but two chapters, and I'm so excited about it.

so, here's a small peek at this bakugou katsuki x reader, exes to lovers (there'll be two smut scenes too 👀). hoping my words flow 'cause damn are they letting me down with my wip long fic...

When Katsuki had lost you, he had lost and never felt like he won anymore. When you had walked out through the door, belongings packed, you took a fundamental part of himself with you. Two years later, and his ability to love another was nowhere to be found. He functioned. Crawled through life and achieved. But not once did he stop looking for the traces of you. Still, his efforts were in vain. He never found you again.

The universe refused to answer that one burning wish he had for reasons he no longer understood. Was he bound to feel like this forever? Empty in your absence? Cold when another warmed his bed? Incomplete, despite being almost certain that someone out there had to fit with him? A torment. Every single fucking day. From morning to night, night to morning. Awake or lost in dreams—better yet, nightmares. He dreamed of you so often, his subconscious rubbing the what-ifs in his face. He should’ve kicked his fear of losing you to the curb and showed you off to the whole world instead. Like you deserved. Years and years, he had boasted of being strong, as being the best. Yet when it came to you, he was weak. Weak because life taught him early on how fleeting it could be. One moment here, gone in the next. That thought was rooted in his subconscious, and while it wasn’t an excuse, it made him act out more times than he could count. “I don’t understand. Why can’t we be seen together without all this stupid disguise?” you would ask and his response would always be the same pathetic excuse, “You wanna paint a target on your back that bad?” And you would give him this confused look that never failed to feel like a gut punch before saying, “…I can take care of myself, Kat. You made sure of it. Besides, you’d never let anything happen to me.” "What if I'm not there? What if I am and you end up getting hurt because I didn't see it coming?" would be his argument that rang true to both of you. But it was those what-ifs that bred insecurities, and before he knew it, with tear-stained cheeks and in a small voice, you had said, “I’m just not enough for you, Katsuki. I tried and I failed. I’m tired.” He, too, had tried to stop you, to express his fear. You refused to listen, too fed up with him, too sick of being his “dirty little secret” as you so bluntly put it. His “dirty little secret” you remained for he never talked about you with anyone. Not his parents, not his friends. His heartbreak was his and his only, and Katsuki gladly succumbed to it. He deserved the punishment—to drown in regrets and shame. Katsuki hurt you, his missing half, his person who loved him for him. So, when whatever the hell aligned so that behind the door where his hookup for the night was supposed to be stood you, the last two years flashed before his very eyes. And then, he could swear his whole fucking world exploded in color and light; though, that might’ve just been his heart finally, finally beating in the now.

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 15

We are set to arrive on Fendaar in two cycles. As we are currently stuck on the SIIR Noxos, I have concluded that the passages of time that I am free of duties would be best spent continuing to observe the human. The human, on the other hand, seemed to have different plans in that matter, as it took me an unusually long amount of time to locate her.

As I eventually found her, she seemed to be working on one of the control panels in the main control room, so I may excuse her absence with duties she had to attend to. As she saw me, although, she seemed rather…excited (this is obviously mere speculation, as the study of the Terran so far has provided far too little evidence to prove such theories)?

As she rolled out from under the control board and sighted me, her face once again split into a wide opening revealing her horrifying amount of teeth.

"Hey! Dude!", she said, raising to her full height and stepping towards me, still baring her teeth, although I did not recoil, as I did not want to seem impolite. She raised her arms, each pointing into a different direction, away from their connection to the human's body.

"Human Quinn. How are you?"

"Me? I‘m fine, the whole 'wandering around in space' thing just made me throw up, I honestly don‘t know why they insisted on keeping me there for two whole days."

The ends of her fingers, studded with claw-like (rather short and rounded instead of sharp, perhaps they were not meant to function as claws at all, or perhaps the beings on Terra were far different from what I knew, and therefore a shape like this was far more useful to hunt) protuberances, scraped over the back of the connection between her head and her upper body. If I interpreted her facial expression correctly, she seemed to be thinking.

"Maybe I got a light concussion too, I’m not entirely sure. But it's improbable, because I’m fine now."

I decided to focus on one piece of information at a time. "Well, this "throwing up" can certainly not be a healthy nor normal process, otherwise, it would not seem so violently painful and involuntary, would it?"

"Well it‘s not…unnatural, it‘s just something that can happen. And about health, it‘s not unhealthy, it usually helps us to get rid of stuff that is bad for our bodies!", she eludicated, moving one of her arms in a rather random manner.

"The scientists have concluded that this fluid is highly acidic. If this 'stuff' is so harmful to you, wouldn‘t it just dissolve in this fluid before being able to cause any further harm?"

Quinn seemed to think about that. 

"Well, just because it gets dissolved, doesn‘t mean it‘s gone, you know? It's still in our bodies, and we have to get rid of it somehow. And if it needs to be fast, we throw up. Honestly, I‘d definitely explain this further to you, but Biology‘s never really been my strongest subject, ya know what I mean?"

I did not, in fact, know what she meant, but I decided against questioning her further.

After a pause the Terran spoke up again: "So, this planet we're landing on..." "Fendaar.", I clarified. "Right. So, this planet that we‘re going to, it‘s a desert, right?" "That is correct." "So, is it a sand, an ice or, I guess you could also count rock desert? 'Cuz on my planet, we‘ve got all of those types."

"Fendaar‘s ecosystem is mostly made up out of sandlike landscapes with rather scarce vegetation and biodiversity. Most of the planets in system 36-54 have rather extreme temperature ranges, and Fendaar is no exception.", I eludicated.

"Alright, cool.", she spoke, rolling back under the underside of the control panel she had been working on previously. She seemed to be sitting, or rather lying, on a piece of metal with four small wheels attached to it, allowing her to move it around.

"Your planet.", I initiated. 

"Yeah?", she responded, while continuing her work on the wiring.

"Am I assuming correctly that your planet has a far bigger biodiversity?"

"Oh, yeah.", there was a small spring in her voice, as if she had let out air in the middle of speaking. "Big biodiversity. We‘ve got deserts and rainforests, coral reefs and permafrost - although perhaps not for that long anymore - mountain ranges and all that stuff."

"Interesting.", I supplied, for lack of a better response. If Terra had such differences in temperature and landscapes, it was a logical conclusion that the humans had evolved to survive under such circumstances.

"Yeah."

It was unusually quiet for some time. That was, until Quinn rolled out from the underside of the control panels.

"Alright, I‘m done." She took a deep breath before opening her mouth once again. Then, all of a sudden, the muscles of her face started contracting as if she was plagued by an invisible pain. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out horrifying noise, holding an arm angled in front of her nose and mouth. The noise itself was not particularly loud or long, but I recoiled either way, as a measure of safety. I could not be certain if this gesture was meant to harm me, after all.

Quinn‘s arm sank down again as her other hand rubbed at her nose. She huffed, a sound far less threatening than the one she had produced a moment ago. One of the hair patches above her visual organs raised itself, prompting the question to arise if human hair was controlled by muscles or if it had a mind of its own, although this was a question that could be further investigated later. One of the corners of her mouth raised, revealing the seemingly sharpest teeth in her mouth.

"I guess dust is an inter-galactic thing, huh?"

I did not respond. Her face muscles contracted, causing the skin above her visual organs to crease.

"Hey, you okay? You‘re looking a little spooked over there."

"Human, I do not wish to cause you discomfort, but, if I may ask, what was the purpose of the noise you just uttered?"

She did not respond for a moment, blinking with both of her eyes as she stared at me. It was quite unsettling, considering her previous explanation, that most humans preferred not being stared at. 

"I…sneezed?" The creases in the skin above her eyes deepened.

My front pliers uttered another rattling sound. "What is this 'sneezing'? What purpose does it serve?" I admit, I was quite curious. Terrans seemed much more complex than I had previously assumed.

She paused, seemingly to think of an answer. "Well, it‘s like…if something is bothering us at or in out nose, like dust, for example, it‘s kind of the natural response to that. To keep things out of our bodies that don‘t belong there."

"Human bodies seem to require a lot of defense mechanisms.", I commented.

She raised and lowered the connection of her arms to her upper body, baring her teeth once again while raising herself to her full height, using one of her arms as support.

"Y’know, it’s surprisingly hard to explain something you’re so used to to someone who’s never heard of it. I guess I still have to work on the whole 'awareness that I‘m around aliens' thing. S‘ kind of surreal."

She patted off her clothing, as if to remove non-existent filth once again. I had noticed the past few cycles that most of her clothing seemed to consist of several, usually differently-coloured, pieces of fabric. 

Her clothes usually covered her body from the connection between her arms and torso to the connection between her legs and, presumably, her feet. Her feet were usually also covered, although I could not determine the purpose it was supposed to serve in the environment we are currently in, although the theory that the conditions on Earth are vastly different compared to the ones on the SIIR Noxos is gaining more probability, based on the Terran's narrations.

The human seemed to evaluate a question she wanted to ask (this is, of course, a mere speculation based on previous observations: her face muscles were contracted to form a crease over her visual organs, which could so far most likely be interpreted as confusion, thoughtfulness or discomfort; her head was both slightly raised and tilted to one side at the same time, a gesture that was most likely supposed to convey an ongoing thought process).

Although, before she could utter a noise, V-7 informed us of a request from the Vitrichl to gather for a matter of importance.

The purpose of his summoning was to divide the crew into several smaller groups that were to be assigned with different tasks to fulfill once we sucessfully landed on Fendaar.

I was grouped with the Terran, which was unsurprising, as well as Tkzt, a member of the species that is widely known across the galaxies as Ctzas (it is to note that the Ctzas have not evolved any form of written language and communicate exclusively through clicking and chittering sounds. The written forms of, for example, names of this species, are written by other species to produce approximately the same sound as the Ctzas make when recited verbally).

Tkzt, as a member of the unit controlling supply chains and keeping a list of the stock of the SIIR Noxos, would make a helpful addition in our task of seeking out the nearest settlement in order to stock up on supplies.

After all matters of importance were settled, the crew dissipated, continuing their respective tasks. The Terran was ordered to stay and to assist the Vitrichl in another matter, which is the reason I did not cross paths with the human again for the rest of this cycle.

Despite this, I am positive that accompanying the human on an foreign planet will give me a further insight into the species' mannerisms and interaction manners with foreign species, which will prove to be helpful further on in studying the human.

[the-phantoms-kiss]

Pillow talk

Leon S Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Angst - Fluff - Smut - 5k

It was a wonderful night, the breeze was cool as it entered through the window, the moonlight shone happily into the room, and most importantly; I was wrapped up in the arms of the man I loved.

This should’ve been the perfect end sequence in a romance movie after the two protagonists have sex, or “make love”, however in my case, it did little to quell the questions that were raging inside my mind.

“Leon…” I whisper softly, propping myself up on my forearms. “What is it?” His voice was deep and tired. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask, perhaps I should wait until he isn’t half asleep. He opens his eyes after a while, noticing my lack of a response, and pulls me closer to him with the arm around my waist. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” He sits up, waiting for anything. “I- nothing… it’s okay. I’m sorry for waking you, go back to sleep.” I kiss him on the forehead and let him lie back down properly, resuming his peaceful slumber.

Before I know it the clock says it’s 2:41 and I’m in the same position I was all those hours ago. The same thought has been repeated over and over again. It’s stupid. I know the answer, yet I can’t bring myself to accept it. I should, otherwise I’ll just be wasting time. I get up as carefully as I can, trying not to wake Leon up, which is easier said than done, and I carefully make my way to a small office room in the apartment.

At his old typewriter, I begin to write a letter, it goes as follows;

Dear Leon,

I apologize for not giving you a proper goodbye, but I couldn't bear to look you in the eyes knowing I'd have to leave. It may not matter to you why it is that I'm leaving, hell I don't doubt you won't notice my absence until much later on, yet I still feel as if I owe you an explanation even if it’s a shitty one.

We've been close since that night in Raccoon City, we stuck through thick and thin on various missions afterward and I've seen you grow and change from the young, sweet, and artless rookie that you were. Don't worry, I've had my own changes, and it wasn't until recently that I discovered just how much I changed from the person I was to the person I am today, I've also noted the change from the person I am today to the person I wanted to be back then. I'm leaving in pursuit of becoming that woman I always wanted to be, that woman that I am deep down. A hopeless romantic who wants nothing more than to start a family in a small town with a meaningless job. This rotten city, and whichever other city you get assigned to has no future for me, at least not one that is negotiable. I will always remember you and hold you dear to my heart, but I’m just not sure I can be here any longer without losing myself. I’ve already lost so many, I can’t lose myself. Please don’t be sad, I’m sure you’ll meet others far funnier than I, others who you’ll be able to bear your whole soul to. Please don't track me.

Maybe someday our paths will cross, till then;

Yours truly,

💋

Leaving my lipstick was my signature, the easiest way for him to recognize me. I neatly folded it, put it inside an empty envelope, and set it on his nightstand along with a cup of coffee, just how he liked it. I drove back home and quickly packed up my belongings, stuffing them into the trunk of my car.

I drove up north, only stopping for coffee and gas every once in a while, never settling in a motel for the night, instead, I opted to sleep in the backseat of my car, dreaming of the day I’d finally be free of these plagues. Faking my death was the easiest part of it all, after all, working for the government means anything is accessible and anything is possible if you talk to the right people.

I wonder if he even saw the letter, he probably thought it was some lame excuse to leave without making him breakfast, a habit we had gotten used to over the years of casual sex and crashing over at each other’s place when we were too drunk to drive home. Maybe it was exactly what he was hoping for, a break from me. I guess only time will tell.

Leon’s POV

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, the bed is colder than usual, and she isn’t singing in the kitchen like she usually is when she spends the night, she didn’t even wake me up at 6. Did I somehow dream last night? I was pretty drunk… but that’s not right, the coffee on the nightstand is-. I sit up and grab the mug, it’s cold like it’s just been there for hours, but it’s the same as when she always makes it. This must be some kind of game, ah, and here’s a letter most likely explaining the rules, a bit unusual that she didn’t tell me earlier, usually when she plays these games she at least gives me a heads up. Jesus, why’d I have to be into a detective?

Let’s see, “ ’Dear Leon’, blah blah blah blah, jeez she really got into character this time, let’s just skip to the good part, ‘don’t track me’ What am I supposed to do then? Hope I run into her? Maybe the clues are hidden in the text.” As I reread the entire letter I quickly realize, that this isn’t another one of her games, this is a goodbye. But… no. She must be kidding right? Some sick prank she thought would be funny? She knows how many people have left me… she knows that… she’s… I don’t have anyone… why would she leave if she knew that? “FUCK” I grab the mug and toss it at the wall in a fit of rage, shattering to pieces.

 *RING RING RING* Great who is it now?! Claire Redfield? “My condolences Leon, she was a great teammate and an even better friend.” “What condolences? Do you know how long she was planning this?!” “I don’t know! I would’ve helped her if I had known… she didn’t deserve to go like that.” “Helped her?! Deserve to go out like that?! So what? You’re just going to help her play the victim now?” “Jesus, Leon! Have some respect for the dead, despite whatever religion you may believe in we can both agree that we shouldn’t blame her for killing herself, the blame should be on us who didn’t even notice something was up.” “Killed herself? What do you mean…?” “Stop acting dumb! It’s all over the news! Those damn bastards couldn’t let her rest even after her death.”

That can’t be right… she would have told me if she was even feeling remotely suicidal… she- THE LETTER! SHE TOLD ME! HOURS OR EVEN SECONDS BEFORE DOING IT! WHY WOULD SHE DO SOMETHING SO DRASTIC! I WAS RIGHT NEXT TO HER! I COULD’VE SAVED HER AND EVEN AT THAT, I FAILED! MERE INCHES AWAY AND STILL I- I failed her- if I had gotten up instead of pretending to sleep if I had opened my eyes when she left the coffee on the nightstand… I could’ve prevented all of this…

2 Years later (2005) 7 years after the incident

MAIN POV

The night was quiet, even inside the bar, the bar was quieter than usual as it was late and most patrons would have work the next day. I loved these kinds of nights, the kind where the sound of people talking and low jazz music were nothing but ambiance noise compared to the rain that was pounding on the windows. The doorbell jingled, and a man came in. I must be dreaming, he looks an awful lot like Leon, sure the blonde hair is throwing me off but the resemblance is there, it can’t be, what’s an old town like this got to do with his operations? Maybe I’m drunk, I doubt it since this is my second glass of wine, but stranger things have happened. As I look back away and out the window a heavy set of footsteps walk up to my table. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Holy shit. It’s him. Maybe he won’t notice if I keep quiet and look out the window, maybe the changed hair color will throw him off? Right like his threw me right off track. I shake my head side to side, careful to not show my face. “Thanks.” He pulls out the chair, faces it towards the front of the bar, with his back to the window and sits on it. Umm hello? Can you leave? “It’s a nice night ain’t it.” I guess you aren’t going to leave. I just nod. “Cut the shit, I know it’s you.” He slams his beer on the table and turns his body towards me. I feel the hairs on my body stand at the sudden loudness of his voice. The place goes quiet for a second, and I remain quiet as well. “Fine then, don’t speak to me, I’ll talk whether you talk or not.” I stand up and quickly walk outside, speaking as I do. “I don’t want to talk Leon.” He reaches up to me just as fast, and grabs my wrist before I can get into my car, the rain slowly drenching us both.

 “No! You are not walking away from me. Not again. You may have said everything you wanted to that night but just remember that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. You left me with what may have been a reason to move states, but to me it was a letter with a reason to end your life, and that wasn’t fair. You knew that I would find out about your death so why make it seem like a suicide note knowing damn well that you had no intention to do so. You left me when you knew! YOU KNEW THAT I HAD NO ONE ELSE. DO YOU KNOW JUST HOW MUCH IT KILLED ME THINKING IT WAS MY FAULT YOU HAD ENDED IT? I CRIED FOR MONTHS NONSTOP AND WHEN I WOULDN’T BE CRYING I WOULD BE DRINKING, BLAMING MYSELF FOR NOT HAVE ASKED YOU WHAT WAS WRONG THAT NIGHT WHEN THERE WAS OBVIOUSLY SOMETHING WRONG. IT KILLED ME. YOU KILLED ME. YOU HURT ME MORE THAN ANY OF THOSE STUPID MISSIONS EVER DID. AND FOR WHAT? WHAT WAS THE REASON? TO END UP WORKING AT SOME MORGUE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE? YOU WALKED OUT ON ME. WHY? WHY?! YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO COME BACK JUST PLEASE TELL ME WHY!

“BECAUSE I LOVED YOU LEON! I STILL DO! AND I KNEW YOU WEREN’T READY TO SETTLE SO I LEFT. I LEFT THAT NIGHT BECAUSE I LOVED YOU AND I KNEW YOU DIDN’T LOVE ME. IT HURT TOO MUCH NEVER BEING ABLE TO TELL YOU OR SHOW YOU JUST HOW MUCH I DID. AND NO, I DIDN’T GET TO TELL YOU EVERYTHING I WANTED TO SAY IN THAT LETTER BECAUSE I WAS SCARED OF WHAT YOU WOULD DO IF YOU KNEW I LOVED YOU. I AM SORRY I HURT YOU SO MUCH. I JUST COULDN’T LIVE THAT WAY AND I NEEDED TO ESCAPE. I WAS SO BLINDED BY MY OWN PAIN I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE WHAT I DID UNTIL I WAS SEVERAL TOWNS OVER AND I KNEW IT WAS TOO LATE BY THEN. I LOST IT. I LOST IT LEON. I LOST IT ALL. I- I WAS GOING MAD. IT WAS DRIVING ME MAD THE WAY YOU INTERACTED WITH ADA! YOU WERE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HER AND I WAS SIMPLY THE SECOND CHOICE! EVEN WHEN WE MET YOU WERE HUNG UP ON SOMEONE! I NEVER HAD A CHANCE.”

“YOU’RE WRONG! I NEVER LIKED ADA! ALL SHE HAS DONE IS LIE AND BETRAY MY TRUST!  IT’S BEEN YOU SINCE THAT NIGHT WE MET! AND YOU’RE RIGHT I WASN’T READY TO HAVE A FAMILY, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I NEVER WANTED TO START ONE! ESPECIALLY WITH YOU! GOD I WOULD KILL TO HAVE THE CHANCE TO CALL YOU MINE IN ANY FORM!” His facial expression suddenly changes from anger to sadness, and one can practically see the gears in his brain as he thinks of what to say next. He steps closer his eyes now looking down at his own shoes, and when he speaks it’s much quieter than the previous shouting he was doing, his voice is slightly deeper and he talks slower, as if he’s realizing the meaning of his own words as he says them.

“You don’t know how many nights I spent dreaming about the day I could finally quit my job and just ask you to be mine already. So many nights wishing that all of these viruses would just go away so I could finally take you out to dinner and treat you the way you always deserved. I just wish you would have let me tell you that instead of making choice for me. I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts. Surely you must know that… right?” I pull him in by his jacket, and I kiss him. I kiss him like there’s no tomorrow and he kisses back just as passionately, his arms wrapped rightly around my waist pulling me and closely as possible and it still wasn’t enough. For what feels like an eternity we stand there, drenched and yet it doesn’t bother us, and it isn’t until our lungs beg for air that we finally pull apart. He picks me up bridal style and runs to the passenger side of his car putting me inside, takes off his wool jacket and lays it on me gently before running back to the driver seat and driving to my house. “How- that’s a stupid question it'd be stranger if you didn’t know my address.” He chuckles, but that doesn’t answer my second question, “If you have something to say then say it, I don’t want you keeping any questions from me ever again.” He looks at me, frowning. “How many times did you have to look at my address to memorize the path from the bar to it?” “Too many, honey.” That’s all I wanted, a sweet nickname that I know only I’ll hear. While he drives he puts his hand on my thigh, and it feels so unbelievable right.

When we arrive he runs back over to my door to open it and extends his hand for me to hold, I run to the door and unlock it running inside for shelter as the rain falls in bigger drops, “I’m going to go shower really quickly, make yourself at home.” “Can I join you?” his hand still on mine “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, I’ll be out in a second I promise.” I kiss his forehead, and run to the restroom to shower before I catch a cold. When I get out of the shower I shiver, only wearing a towel, he’s in my room, standing by the fireplace that is now ablaze while he looks at the pictures and trinkets I have on it. “I left some hot water for you, better run and shower before I go back in.” He doesn’t answer, he just motions for me to come closer and when I do he holds my waist with one hand, the other holds out a framed picture of the both us selfie, it was taken on my 21st birthday, we were in a booth in a bar, jeez why are we always at bars? “I have this exact same picture framed on my nightstand. We’ll make it. I promise.” He kisses my forehead, his hair still damp and cold from the rain, after a few seconds he pulls away and goes to shower. Should I bring some wine? What about lingerie? Too much? Yeah, too much. I just want to make it up to him. Candles! Music! Is Jeff buckley too much heartbreak? Chris Isaak? Nine Inch Nails? Too kinky for our first romantic time. Alannah Myles? Yes. Black velvet comes on first too?! Perfect.

As if on cue Leon comes out of the bathroom with a towel covering his lower half, I just can’t help it and I run into his arms pulling him in to a kiss once again, he must’ve been feeling the same way because his hands immediately land on my hips and he pulls me flush against his chest, my hands on his hair. He picks me up bridal style and carefully throws me onto the bed, climbing on top of me, his hands roaming any bare skin I have, his kisses growing sloppy and eventually moving down my neck occasionally nipping and leaving his mark, kissing back up my jaw and nibbling right below my ear, the sound of his heavy breathing makes me rub my thighs and he instantly notices, pulling them apart and throwing the towels which hung loosely around us onto the floor. It was like he was analyzing which part he should go after first. His kisses go between the valley of my breasts, and he carefully pinches both nipples at the same time, his tongue leaving a trail as it goes lower and lower, “Leon, please,” My voice barely above a whisper, “I wanna be yours… I’m going to make you mine.” His lips right above my clit the vibration still going through. And he kisses it, slowly at first, his fingers never leaving my nipples, then he speeds up, instead of kissing it he’s just flicking it with his tongue, running circles on it, sucking, and blowing on it afterwards. My moans grow louder, it’s too much, his touch is too much, and it’s about to be more. “So many nights I dreamt about this.” And without a warning one of his fingers goes into me, as he curls and moves it in and out, adding a second one and doing scissor motions, his lips now repeating the same actions from before but now on your nipples constantly switching between them. “Leon it’s too much- I-“ “Cum on my fingers.” I don’t need to be told twice and he just speeds up his ministrations as my legs shake.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good tonight baby, you’re never going to be the same.” I moan and twist his hair between my fingers. After I’m done he pulls out his fingers and licks them clean, “God how I’ve missed your taste.” And before I know it he’s between my thighs again like a starved man, curling his tongue inside and his hands massage my hips keeping them from bucking, his nose rubbing against my clit every once a while and his tongue runs over my walls like he can’t get enough, “Leon don’t stop please- you- you- feel so-“ My legs shaking again, thighs crushing his head and he groans, the vibrations going through my entire body. And as I come down from my high he’s licking every last drop, “So pretty when you cum” without warning he’s shoving his dick in me, one of his hands holding my legs on his shoulders and the other holding my hips, angling them up getting in even deeper, setting a sharp and quick pace. I pull him in with my legs, his hands now pressing my thighs to my chest and his lips meet mine for a messy kiss, both moaning into each other’s mouth the new angle has both of us seeing stars and I involuntary clench around him every once in a while making his knees buck, “Fuck, keep doing that and I won’t last.” “I don’t want you to last.” I scratch my nails on his back and his scalp, and he moans in my ear. “You sound so pretty when you moan.” And he blushes hiding his face in my neck, groaning and moaning. “I- I’m close- Leon-“ “Cum for me.” And I snap, my walls gripping him tighter than he could imagine, and he cums as well, his knees bucking and his body shivers on mine. His hands bruising my hips but I couldn’t care any less. After a few more seconds of him pistoning in and out he finally falters, and he lies on top of me for a while, now it’s just our heavy breathing and the long-forgotten CD still playing in the background. As he pulls out he lays his head on my chest and covers us both, I softly run my fingers along his hair, his own fingers drawing shapes on my skin. “I love you.” We both spoke simultaneously, “Jinx” “That’s not fair.” He jokingly frowns, “Nuh uh, can’t speak, I said jinx.” After some silence I speak up again. “Do you remember when we first met?” He just remains silent, “I know you’re awake.” “You said I couldn’t speak.” “Fine.” “Leon,” Saying his name slowly, a kiss on his forehead, “Leon,” repeating it even slower, a kiss on his nose, “Leon.” Barely above a whisper, a kiss on his lips, “I think about that night every day.” He replies. “Do you remember?” “Crystal clear.” The memories flooding back to me.

We met in a bar a day before the incident, a town outside of Raccoon City, I walked in “Can I get whiskey on rocks?” I ordered, and a voice came from next to me “Are you even old enough to drink?” The man was unbelievably good looking, but obviously out of it. “Excuse me? I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” “I’m a cop. It is my business.” He flashes his badge, “A drunk one. You’re no better than I am.” He chuckles “You didn’t answer my initial question.” “I did you just didn’t like my response.” “I could take you to jail right now.” “In that condition? You’d probably crash before we even got in the city.” “I can drive just fine.” “You sure? Because by the look of your dilated pupils, you’re either drunk or in love.” “Or?” he smirks, “As if.” The bartender is way too tired to pay attention to either and simply passes you the drink, you hand him cash, “You’re not even going to ID her? And they say we’re the corrupted ones.” “Listen here, if you’re just going to come in and talk shit with our customers then feel free to make your way out.” The bartender responds, of course, he’d have your back, you’ve been a regular for months. “Fine. I guess I will.” He stands up immediately feeling dizzy as he slightly stumbles out of the bar, I follow behind him I can’t afford such a handsome guy getting himself killed on the road. “Let me drive. You’ve obviously had too many and I’m sober.” “After that whiskey?” “Believe it or not some of us actually have a tolerance to alcohol. I didn’t finish it anyway.” He sighs outside his car, taking a moment to think, he puts his hand on his head and hands me the keys walking over to the passenger side.

“Where to?” “Any hotel nearby.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at your house?” “Don’t have one.” It’s dark out and the road is empty other than the occasional gas station, “So… what brings you out here anyhow?” “To the bar or to the city?” “Both” “Mainly work, I’m starting my first day as a cop tomorrow in Raccoon City.” “Wow, I could’ve been your first arrest, lucky you.” “So you admit you’re underage” “I’m 20 alright lay off it, say you don’t look old enough to drink either.” “That’s because I’m 21.” “Aha! You’re no better than I am.” “At least I waited.” “First of all I call bullshit, and second of all getting wasted isn’t exactly waiting. You drank tonight more than I’ve drank in these past months. What about the bar? A celebration for your new job?” “My girlfriend broke up with me yesterday, needed a drink to forget. What about you? Do you go there often?” “I’m sorry to hear about your ex. Well, college is hard and family doesn’t make it easier so we all cope in some way or another.” “Ah family, I can relate to that.” “They didn’t want you to be a cop?” “They’re dead now but I’m sure they wouldn’t be proud. They were wrapped up in crime more often than not, a cop helped me out that night though, and helped me get into an orphanage.” “That’s sweet” he smiles, god he’s cute. “What are you studying in college?” “Mortuary science.” “Isn’t that just lovely.” I laugh and he looks at me with these huge puppy eyes. “Don’t think I’ve seen you smile this whole time, you’re pretty cute when you smile.” “Only when I smile? Good golly.” He laughs again, “Didn’t even deny it.” I whisper under my breath as I shake my head, “You’re always cute, you’re just too sassy for me to see it.” I just blush and keep quiet for the rest of the ride, turning on the radio to play some jazz quietly in the background as the rain starts pattering down the windshield. At one point he simply passes out, man is he adorable when he sleeps, his eyelashes are so thick, and his faint freckles are scattered around his cheeks and neck, man his ex must’ve been blind and deaf, don’t know how she could just give up on this cutie. As I see a nearby motel I notice the gas tank is close to empty and I park at the motel. “Excuse me how close is the nearest gas station?” “About 4 miles up north, but I wouldn’t recommend walking out there this late, with the heavy rain and the recent murders in the city it is too dangerous to be out.” “I’ll book two rooms then,” As I finish up paying I walk back out to the car to get the stranger, recent murders huh? What if he’s the killer? Nah he’s too sweet for that. He could be acting… I’m sure it’s fine. “Are you awake? I got you a room, seems we’ll have to be neighbors for the night since this car isn’t going anywhere.” No answer. Guess I’ll have to carry him, man he feels like a steel wall, god, I’m going to be sore tomorrow. After carrying him to his room and push him onto his bed his hand grabs onto mine, and he pull me onto the bed with him wrapping his arms around me, whispering a name, still very much asleep. After a while I manage to get his arm off of me and to my room as quietly as possible knocking out on my bed.

In the morning I wake up to the sound of the sound of knocking on the door, as I peek out I see the lady from last night, her husband is offering to drive me to the gas station and I quickly agree and get in his truck. The drive to was quiet filled with occasional small talk, on the ride back however, he stared asking more personal questions, putting his hand on my shoulder every once in a while. When he parked he kept the doors locked looking over at me as if he’d seen his first meal, “If you’d like, I can help you fill up” his tone lower and he leaned towards me, “No thank you, I’m running a bit late could you-“ “Listen princess, my wife is probably taking a nap right now and I think it’d be in both of our interest if we had a little fun.” I quickly move my hand and unlock the doors, but he grabs my wrist tightly before I can open it. “Let me go! My friend is a cop and he will arrest you!” He chuckles and my god it is the most disgusting sound I’ve ever heard. Oh yeah? Where’s this friend of yours at?” “Right here.” A familiar voice responds from behind the man as his door swings open and he gets pulled out of his seat, and before the man could even fully raise his fist he gets punched in the nose, falling back unconscious. Seriously badass. He quickly runs around to my side and opens the door, holding his hand out for me to take and I gladly do so. “Thank you.” I pull him into a hug and he reciprocates the action, after pulling away he holds his hand out “I’m Leon Kennedy, sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.” I introduce myself and shake his hand. After filling up the tank we drove back to the bar, the same place I’d left my car the night before.

We stop at a diner to eat lunch, his treat of course since he turned out to be a gentleman, lending me his jacket when it got cold outside and walking me to my car as we said our goodbyes, both knowing we didn’t want to go our separate ways. I give him my phone number and he does the same, and with that I’m in my car alone, and he’s in his equally alone. It wasn’t until I got half way back home that I realized he’d forgotten his jacket, and I would’ve kept it if it didn’t contain his badge along with other belongings. Thankfully I knew he’d most likely be heading to the police station over at Raccoon City so that’s where I’d be going for the rest of the day, I didn’t have anything planned anyways so it’d be a fun roadtrip. By the time I was only half an hour out of the city it was already dark and I needed fuel stopping at a gas station which coincidentally had Leon’s car parked right outside it. I got out ready to surprise him when out of no where a bloodied woman came to my window banging her head against it, not knowing whether to help her or seek Leon inside the dark gas station I climb over the passenger seat and run towards the building turning back to see a swarm of them hurling towards me. As I turn an isle I walk into Leons back, he quickly turns pointing the gun right at my forehead, “DON’T SHOOT! IT’S ME!” He doesn’t even respond he just grabs my hand and leads me out to the nearby police cruiser which was luckily on. I get into the passenger seat and he gets into the drivers, quickly stepping on the gas pedal. After we were seemingly in the clear he speaks up “What were you doing there?” Not angry but obviously shaken by the experience, “You forgot your jacket, I was going to drive to RPD and leave it there but I spotted your car at the gas station.” He looks down at me, noticing the jacket still on me, “Oh, thank you.” I take it off and hold onto it for the rest of the ride, we were both quiet, trying to process what we’d just seen. Eventually stopping outside of another diner within the city. From then on it’s all just history. 

3 Years later (2008)

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do."

“I do.”

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do."

“I do”

“You may now kiss the bride” 

And with a searing kiss, we begin a new chapter in our lives.

AN: I pulled an all-nighter so please like and reblog 👏🏻😭