#god i don’t mind helping him with the self-improvement AS A FRIEND

[persimmonlions]

starting to think i should ghost this one friend

[shadesoflsk]

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind. 

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president. 

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer. 

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works. 

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why. 

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain. 

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness. 

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human. 

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes. 

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition. 

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be. 

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers. 

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that! 

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now. 

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed. 

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk. 

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. —  He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows. 

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes. 

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words. 

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon. 

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before. 

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter. 

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s. 

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you. 

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face. 

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone. 

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment. 

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead? 

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her. 

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air. 

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you. 

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret. 

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air. 

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest. 

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his. 

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception. 

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.” 

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body. 

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end. 

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him. 

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair. 

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it. 

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day? 

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax? 

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that. 

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus. 

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact,  you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out. 

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was. 

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it. 

But right now he wants to be a child again. 

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary. 

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body. 

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted. 

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up. 

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed. 

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced.  You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend. 

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying. 

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek –  you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it. 

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way. 

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago. 

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep. 

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.” 

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.” 

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.  

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming. 

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love. 

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone. 

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside. 

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others. 

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off. 

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world. 

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe. 

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence. 

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs. 

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task. 

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist. 

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch. 

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length. 

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you. 

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant. 

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace. 

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love. 

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs. 

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face. 

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax. 

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands. 

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while. 

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand. 

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side. 

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose. 

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny. 

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him. 

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him. 

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions. 

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.” 

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism. 

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there. 

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night. 

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture. 

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.” 

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now. 

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him. 

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat. 

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?” 

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on. 

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

[mypoorsanity]

𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲?

𝘁𝗼𝗸𝘆𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃!𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀

𝗮/𝗻, 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝘀𝘁𝘆𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗵𝗶 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲,,,

quality time/acts of service, gift giving :

mitsuya had acquired a little bouquet of your favourite flowers and a teddy bear to match his declaration to you, he mentally vows that the second you had embraced his love for you, he would bring you on all the already planned dates you would both be taking in the foreseeable future. don't get me wrong, mitsuya absolutely loves the smile you display when he shows his affection towards you or when you give him the best hugs, but there's just something about seeing your beautiful face light up when he showed you the bracelet he had bought that you'd been eyeing as you and he were window shopping last week. another thing for him was just seeing you come over to his place and also showing your love towards his sisters as if you were one little family. the both of you completing the laundry that he was supposed to wash, fold and hang dry, but you insist it would be faster if you both did it together, he simply loved the small talk you both would make about almost anything while you both did the simple chore, his heart swelled up every time.

acts of service, physical touch (really not much it’s baji) :

he’s like head over heels in love with you and would burn down the world if you asked him too but man, don’t ask baji to give you a kiss or hold hands in public, especially around his friends. though, maybe, if he’s feeling sappy he’ll put his arm around you shoulder and one quick peck on your forehead, he’s gotta keep up the rep y’know.. but he really does love you and loves you 10x more when you both have small study sessions in his room, or try to. he constantly aims to make you proud, as seen by the way he carefully examines the task at hand, baji has a purpose in mind. after you've completed studying with him, he always finds a way to express his gratitude by showing you physical attention. doesn't look like much, but when he's secure at home, baji adores your embraces. he claims that the moment you sit on his bed and extend your arms for him to jump into (he's not light you almost die every time /hj), he might almost forget all he has learned today and to just collapse in your arms. however, i advise against letting him do so since, unless you manage to wake him up, it's a death sentence.

words of affirmation, quality time :

probably the only thing you’ve every really asked, (you begged not ask) was to learn how to fight, to learn with your boyfriend, draken as your teacher. now, draken thinks it’s actually a good idea to for you to learn some self defence, just him being your teacher? he thinks it’s too much for you, not as in to call you weak, but as in saying that one hit could probably cause a knock out on someone like you. after some consideration, he agreed to teach you his methods every thursday evening after picking you up from school. these sessions seemed like one of those nice small dates you two would have, and he secretly adored every minute of it. he couldn't help but chuckle a bit when it got to the moments where you and him would spar since you kept failing to get past his arm barricade. you were adorable, my god. but of course, once you would manage to get a reasonably good hit on him, a huge smile would spread across yours and his faces, and the compliments that would tumble from his lips would make you delirious with satisfaction. "that was great babe, now try that once again with more power”. it gave you the energy you needed to improve even more..

physical touch, quality time :

just, take a nap with him, ok? if you shared a daily one with him, or even simply laid next to him as he slept, he would literally grow a pair of hearts on his eyes. mikey just wants your bodies to be as close as possible when your spending time together, alone, just the both of you, him snacking while you play with his hair. it’s his version of paradise. outside it’s more on the way you hold his hand, he’s really not afraid to have you cling onto his arm, he loves it. he is already willing to give up a lifetime for you because of something as simple and important as interlocking pinkies. listen i sound dramatic, but it’s honestly what mikey feels in his heart, especially when he looks at you while your staring at your phone watching some sort of cat video. absolute adoration.

acts of service, physical touch (he tries ok) :

he sincerely wishes he could express how he feels through touch, but the moment you two sit down together, he starts to feel extremely warm. baji genuinely wonders how the heck he had the courage to even approach you, but the truth is, he achieved it via letters. you basically had a hidden crush on chifuyu and found everything he drew to be so cute, especially the small cats he'd draw in the corner. he felt it was his responsibility as your boyfriend to assist you with everything, whether it was preparing for a test, finding your wallet after you misplaced it, or while taking you on your weekly date to the neighbourhood animal shelter so you could pet the cats there. it was his special way of showing you how much he loves you. but one moment he makes an effort to touch you physically while you both are watching a movie on his tv, peke-j relaxing on your lap and you, who were quite interested in the film. chifuyu took advantage of your diversion to wrap his arm over your shoulders. let's assume that he did a fantastic job because you seemed to like it. after that, he really grew accustomed to it and used to welcome you by placing his arm around your shoulders when he saw you leaving your class at school. chifuyu's next objective was to master holding your hand.

[vera-king-hrfl]

I'll prove it, @crowwolf 😁

Heat of the Night part 5

CW: hugging, hand-holding, kissing, and a single self-applied instance of the F word.

Cal arrives at the bluff a few minutes early this time, but Ryldinn is already there waiting, sitting in the grass with his knees up, looking out to sea from behind his big dark sunglasses, not seeming to notice the arrival. Cal approaches from behind, quietly, a cheeky impulse causing him to wonder if he could sneak up on the little man. 

"Not on your best day, beautiful." Ryldinn turns, grinning, and Cal huffs good-naturedly.

"You knew it was me?"

The drow stands and comes to Cal, holding out his hand. "Mm. I can hear you from much further than that. And I can smell you. Can’t see very well in this light, but yes, I knew." Cal takes the offered hand and looks the man over for a minute. Little cut-off shorts, colorful sleeveless cropped shirt, sandals. He can't help but linger on the marvelous legs and the enticing peek of hard stomach, suddenly feeling a bit too warm in his own baggy shorts and plain grey t-shirt. 

"Gods, you’re sexy... I mean... sorry, I... um. Yeah." Cal stammers, trying to quit staring with limited success. 

Ryldinn’s giggle sends a delightful tingle through the tiefling. "That’s alright; I like when you look at me that way. I don’t dress like this for everyone, you know. Would you like to walk for a bit?"

"I'd love to. I can't stay as long as I would like tonight; the shop needs me tomorrow, but I wanted to see you."

The elf doesn't release his hand, but starts walking with him holding it, and Cal marvels again at the beauty and apparent sweetness of the petite man, the slender fingers in his as they wander along the bluff. Ryldinn is silent for a while, seeming comfortable just being with Cal, and his obvious pleasure in Cal’s company makes him a little braver. "Do you mind if I ask you some things about yourself? I was curious..."

"Of course not. You can ask me whatever you want."

"Um, I guess I didn't want to pry... You said you can't see very well. Is that just in the sun?"

Ryldinn nods. "Where I'm from there is no sun. No moon or stars. I saw them for the first time when I... arrived here."

Cal hears the brief hesitation, but continues anyway, wanting to know this man more intimately. "So you are from the Underdark?" Another nod. "How long have you been here?"

"Almost twenty years now, but my daylight vision never improved much."

Cal stops him, surprised. "Oh... well, that's..." He chuckles. "I'm sorry, I know you're an elf, but that just took me by surprise. I'm twenty three years old. I guess you're a bit older than me."

Ryldinn laughs softly. "A bit, yes. Does that bother you? Because I don't mind."

Cal considers, starting to walk again, wanting to be honest. "Hm. I suppose it doesn't, actually. I mean, does that matter if we like each other?"

"I don't think so. You don't seem to be bothered what I am; why should your age concern me?"

"What you are? What do you mean?"

Ryldinn takes a moment this time, thinking. "Well, I suppose my being a fag is alright with you, considering what we're doing. It's a little nerve-wracking being someone's first foray into something like this, but you don't strike me as that kind of guy."

"What kind of guy?"

"Sometimes there are guys who come around the club, not actually gay, but wanting to experiment with more effeminate men. Or they come with their friends as a dare or a bet or something. It's irritating, but we can usually spot them pretty quickly. I also meant because I'm drow though. There's almost as much stigma around that."

Cal grins. "Oh, trust me; there’s plenty around tieflings as well. I'm used to being judged for what I look like. Not everyone has horns and a tail."

"Well, I'm glad you do. I like them." He looks up at Cal. "Your eyes are incredible as well. Beautiful."

The tiefling blushes, smiling shyly. "That’s good." He can't think of anything else to say for a few minutes, so they turn to watch the setting sun, Cal daring to slip an arm around Ryldinn’s back, trying not to be too obvious in his desire to touch the man. But Ryldinn accepts the little embrace and leans against him a bit, so Cal just closes his eyes, letting everything but the feel of the sweet firm body dissolve for the moment. 

After the last blaze of farewell, Ryldinn removes his glasses and slips them through a belt loop on his shorts as they start walking again. Cal pushes his own glasses higher up his nose and eventually drums up the courage to ask more questions. 

"So what do you do for fun?"

"Oh, not much. I go to the club sometimes, to listen to the music. I like to read, put puzzles together." 

"Do you play any sports or anything like that? Forgive me, but I couldn't help but notice that you're in incredible shape." 

"Oh, that. I also like to dance and I do yoga sometimes. Not religiously; honestly most of this is genetic."

Cal chuckles. "Lucky. I'm always fighting with some extra weight I don't need. But I think that's genetic too."

"You mean this?" Ryldinn reaches out, boldly, and runs his hand across Cal's soft belly, and for once, the tiefling resists the urge to suck it in. "I wouldn't worry about it, Cal. Unless it really bothers you, I... I like the way you're built. It's part of the reason you caught my eye in the club that night. You were just sitting there alone looking like you wanted to fold in on yourself... you were so adorable I couldn't help but be drawn to you. Most guys are much more assertive, making what they want very clear. It's nice to have a conversation, and feel like we have a connection."

Cal stops walking again and turns, pulling Ryldinn in for a hug, which is accepted without hesitation, and speaks into his hair. "Well, if you're happy with how I look, I guess that's good. And... well, yeah. A connection is what I want. I'm not really interested in casual hookups or anything like that. I want a friend first." He pulls back again and looks down at the pretty man. "I mean, one of the guys said that almost everyone there has tried to get with you. I suppose I'm really flattered that you gave me a shot."

Ryldinn nods and leans his head on Cal's broad chest. "Yes, that happens, but it's alright, I'm good at soft rejection. Now what about you? What do you do in your spare time?"

Cal strokes the silky hair, enjoying the closeness. "Oh, well, I play rugby on weekends, and I like to draw. I'm not very good at it, but it's fun. Kinda relaxing."

"I am certain you are better than you think. You seem a bit self-critical, if that's not going too far. What sorts of things do you draw?"

"No, you're probably right. My sister says I lack self-confidence. But anyway, hm. I draw people, mostly. I've been trying to get better at anatomy. It's a challenge to get the muscles to flow correctly in different body positions, and the way the light hits..." Cal blushes, remembering how Lia had teased him about his latest artistic inspiration, then takes the drow’s hand again and starts leading them back toward the city. 

"I would love to see your art, when you are comfortable showing it to me, or come to one of your games." 

Cal chuckles. "I don't know if you'll like it. It's just a bunch of sweaty men wrestling over a ball and talking nonsense." Plus, imagining Ryldinn in the stands while he tries to concentrate on a play... 'But sure, I'll let you know when we play again. We have night games too, if that's more comfortable for you."

"Ugh, sweaty men. That sounds awful." Cal hears the smirk in Ryldinn’s voice and looks down to see that the drow is wearing a cheeky grin. Cal chuckles and squeezes the little dark hand, which presses back warmly. He smiles back for a moment, then sighs.

"I guess I should get going. Work in the morning. But this was really nice. I... I really like spending time with you, Ryldinn." Cal turns to face the drow, stepping a little closer, trying to work up the courage. 

Ryldinn is smiling up at him, the moon reflecting in his beautiful eyes. "I like it too, Cal. You're different than... I've never met anyone like you before. You will call me soon?"

"Of course I will. And I've never met anyone like you either." He searches Ryldinn’s face, but the dark elf gives little away. "Ryldinn..." He hesitates, then takes his glasses off and swallows. "May I kiss you goodnight?"

The red eyes widen a little, but the answer is almost immediate. "Yes. Please."

Cal breathes a soft sigh of relief and gently pulls the petite man closer. He seems as hesitant as Cal, if that were possible, but slides a soft hand up the tiefling’s arm to his shoulder while Cal places his own broad palm on the taut waist. He brushes Ryldinn’s hair back with his other hand and slips his fingers into the silky strands, tilting his head back, stretching the moment. The arresting liquid gaze, the moist, slightly parted lips. Careful. Don't fuck this up. 

The sound Ryldinn makes when Cal's full lips touch his is magical. A tiny little inhale followed by an even softer noise, almost a whimper, and Cal can't help but tighten his grip minutely. Their mouths meet, press, slide together, and Ryldinn puts his other arm around Cal's neck and pulls himself up into the sweet little embrace. Cal wants desperately to deepen the kiss, to pull Ryldinn hard against him, lift him, cup his enticing, perfect ass. Not yet. Control yourself. So he contents himself with letting his hand move between the hem of Ryldinn’s shirt and the waistband of his shorts, splaying his fingers along the silken valley of the dark elf's spine. 

Ryldinn shivers at the feel of the big warm hand caressing the bare skin of his lower back. He’d expected something rougher, more demanding. A tighter embrace, maybe groping. At the very least he expected tongue. But Cal doesn’t do that, nor does he invite it. He keeps his lips parted just enough to make the kiss comfortably intimate, without any expectations, and by the time he eases away and touches his forehead carefully to Ryldinn’s, it's the drow who's left trembling and wanting more. But he accepts the young tiefling’s lead, and just smiles into the hug that follows. Cal's strong warm body feels wonderful against him, and though he pulls away again too soon for Ryldinn’s liking, the drow feels very satisfied with how the night had gone. Then the handsome young man ups the ante.

"Thank you, Ryldinn. That was... I don’t even know. You're amazing. I can hardly wait to see you again." He's smiling, showing his white fangs, and it's all the striken elf can do not to pull him down again, to taste those sharp teeth, to climb Cal like a tree and offer himself right then and there. The tiefling gives him one more little peck, on the corner of his mouth, and Ryldinn bites his lip for a second before answering. 

"I feel the same. Soon, alright?" Cal nods, grinning, making Ryldinn do the same. "Alright. Goodnight, Cal."

[chuchayucca]

The length is fine!! I love long posts just diving into thoughts

Honestly, as shit of a human being the uncle is, his entire relationship and dynamic with Richard is just. SO fascinating to me. Even in scenarios where Richard WASN'T abused by his brother, he still had to live with him as he grew up, and deal with his whole... Thing. I wanna know their dynamic sooooo bad

Also!! Oh my god I didn't even think of Richard's drinking being connected to his abuse, that's SUCH a good idea

Though that does give me the sweet idea of Carmen trying to help Richard with his alcoholism, maybe even chewing his brother out for enabling it

Same here, Richard can be an intriguing character because of his relationships alone. I’m curious too, even without the possibility of abuse, what was life like for the both of them? Did Richard ever suspect anything? I also wonder if the Carmen and Richard are in the cult theory is true, because if so, was it the Uncle would trick them into it?

Richard has a few things going for with him and I’m a bit bummed out, the fandom doesn’t pay attention to him as much as Carmen, and when they do, he’s just Carmen’s husband.

TW Discussions about fictional CSA and SA and alcoholism

Thank you. It made sense to add because CSA and SA victims are more likely to abuse substances to cope with the abuse and trauma. There‘s specific personalized reasons why victims turn to substances.

Richard turned to them to improve his low self-esteem, feelings of loneliness and inadequacy, his mental health in general, and later feelings of shame, when his parents found out because he believe it was his fault his brother was caught and treated him differently afterwards. Outside reasons for his alcoholism are his friends thinking his drinking made him cool and could also underage drink with him because the Uncle would supplied them. The Uncle had his own motivation for this.

Again trigger warning because unfortunately I have to talk about this sicko’s actions and reasons to explain his character.

He gave Richard alcohol as a bribe to not tell anyone about the abuse. First it started when Richard became uncomfortable with the “games” so the Uncle would persuade him to continue by buying him toys after the ordeal. This continued until Richard turned 13, by then the Uncle realized toys weren’t affective anymore, and that alcohol would help Richard forget what happened. It also helped with the Uncle’s image as he looked like the cool older brother to Richard’s friends so they didn’t suspect anything.

Throughout of Richard’s life, Carmen has been very supportive of him. Despite what people think of Carmen, I do believe she genuinely does care for her love ones and will help them.

Oh that’s another good scene idea, the Uncle finally receiving some sort of consequences. Hope you don’t mind this, but that scene did gave me a possible direction for Carmen and the Uncle’s relationship.

Carmen is somewhat skeptic of the Uncle and is assertive towards him when she needs to be, compared to Richard. I don’t think I can stressed how much of a positive impact Carmen had on Richard’s life here. Carmen was one of the few people to take Richard’s drinking and his problems in general seriously, was and is still supportive of him, weaken the grip his brother had on him once she became a active person in his life, help Richard become his own person, and was the push he needed to improve himself. Of course the relationship went through hardships because of Richard’s problems with intimacy and alcoholism and Carmen’s own flaws but in the end Richard got better because he finally had some form of support.

[xokiddo]

Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve seen you say somewhere before that you have a kid. Just here to ask if you have any advice. I’m struggling with my siblings. Point blank. I’m always angry, they stress me out, and they have seriously put me off children. I love them, I really do, I just get so frustrated and annoyed even at the eldest who can take care of herself but is extremely childish. I look after them like a mother would, balancing college and work. Could be a mix of the stress of severe lack of money rn and not having enough to move out, so I’m stuck with these kids. Their dad does nothing to help. Doing the dishes is a rarity, but more often than not I’m stuck doing his laundry. Washing his dishes. He works, don’t get me wrong. But then comes home and that’s it. Our mom is essentially me but with a bit more balance and patience. Everything about him makes me angry, and I don’t feel my mom understands. I don’t know and I can’t tell if I’m just a horrible person for always being angry with them, or if I’m just stressed. I’m a parent without having birthed them, and have nobody I can talk to about this as none of my friends have children or young siblings. You’re the first person I thought of. All I ever hear is how children are a joy and a blessing. But it’s not feeling this way.

Extremely sorry for this. You don’t have to answer, I know this is out of the blue. From one sort-of mother to an actual mom, any advice would be a god-send.

— from a stressed girl in college, feeling a little bit alone right now. sorry you had to be the one I spilled to. I don’t think anyone will understand this, hence the anon option.

Hi hello! I don't mind. I'll put my answer under a read more cut because of length.

As for what you're feeling, I honestly don't blame you a bit. I'm guessing you're the oldest, since you're being the one left to take care of everything, and it seemed to just be the mentality of our parents' generation (assuming you're in the same general age range as me) to be like, "Okay your siblings are your responsibility!" as if we're parent #3. And this is entirely unfair to you. I also don't blame you either for feeling averse to children. I wouldn't worry too much about this aspect, because you're still in college and have time ahead if you change your mind in the future, or even if you don't change your mind. I have a friend who waited ten years before having kids, just so they could ensure they were ready. The way your parents are parenting you and your siblings isn't how parenting should be. Parenting is frustrating and a challenge at times, but it can be an absolute joy - if there's time, space, support, and a choice in the decision.

My best advice I can give with what I do have here is to be forgiving of yourself. You're bouncing between all these roles in your life - student, employee, sibling, stand-in mom - but it doesn't sound like you're getting any time for yourself to just be. I would definitely suggest if you're ever able to, carve time for yourself or for self-care when you can, but I also am far too aware that that's easier said than done. I do think that you need some sort of space to decompress within the scope of your situation - I'd say that even if you had no children in your life, too, but adding that factor is a stress multiplier. Maybe small acts of self-care can substitute proper time until you can make time?

You're not a horrible person for always being angry with them. You're being put in a situation that isn't fair, and they may not directly be the source, but they might represent that source of frustration with your parents. I think it would be important to remember that they're children and they have far less control than you do in this situation.

I'm sorry you're dealing with all of this. I hope that there's some improvement for you soon. 🩵 sending some mom hugs your way 🫂

[moonspark2022]

Have observed people are interested to learn English here in my country. I always ask myself how I can help them if they don’t have self motivation! Some of them text me saying they want to improve their overall English skills whereas they work in a non-English surroundings where they hardly need to speak or write in English. I wonder how can I help them if they have only me for practicing their speaking and listening skills! Despite the mentioned facts, I started mentoring couple of them thinking of earning some experience and money as well! I think time has come that I start to share my experience or one day I will burst out with all that I’m absorbing while teaching my learners. Here I start sharing about Munir, Shaila and Jahan! These three has three different goals regarding learning English. Munir wants to improve his overall skills in English, Shaila wants to get done with her ever awaited English test from the UK, and Jahan has a plan to migrate from Bangladesh to Canada respectively.

Will start with Munir, a former students of mine who got me as a teacher in his college days. Surprisingly, he found me on FB and told me that he is looking for an English tutor. This days, I’m staying in Bangladesh and he contacted me upon knowing that I’m back for a while. It has been more than 113 years since he was my student in a private university, I worked in 2009.

You will be amazed to know that he is now in his 30s and working in a real state agency. You probably guessed he doesn’t need English that much but he wants to change the profession soon as he got bored working with money minded land and property sellers. No fun right!! He is planning to migrate to West. May be to Canada or US. Who knows he can be ambitious to fly to any Scandinavian country too! Let’s have a ear on his target to get done with a very popular standardised test IELTS in this post pandemic time. He called me and talked for a while seeing how he disliked to work in his office and how adamant he is to move to another country. So, we started to talk. What’s interesting here is he started to suggest on my use of English. How? While talking with him just casually, I mentioned about my girlfriends of America. Right at that time he giggled and say , ‘girlfriends’, haha you know miss if a lady says that she has a girlfriend then we call them , lesbians! Hah hah!! I was so shocked! I haven’t even started to teach him ‘speaking module in IELTS’ , but he started to laugh at me!! How can I proceed! God! I’m not that patient to bear such a person with limited knowledge of practical sense.Save me Almighty! However, I don’t think I can say my ‘girlfriends’ are my girlfriends ever in my life after hearing such explanation from an ESL learner. Don’t get confused folks: I was actually talking about my female friends living in the US but not my partners! This makes me feel ridiculously sad, hah!

Let’s move to my next ESL student named, Shaila. Shaila is living in the UK. She is working already as an associate nurse in a clinic there . Now, what’s her goal to go for an English proficiency test? Yeah, she is going to sit for a basic level test of English and seeking help from me. I started teaching as soon as she contacted me. This time besides teaching her writing (which she supposed to know long 19 years back), I’m now everyday listening to her stories; how she got married at an young age and left her friends and family behind in her home country. Loving to have chats with her though! She told that her husband was an introvert who had literally no friends than his moms and brothers in the UK. When Shaila reached there , she also got so pissed off by her husband’s ‘mute’ condition. That guy was just so swamped into his damn work which made Shaila to feel leaving everything behind and escape from this gloomy life. She anyway made a way out of it! She got a divorce after 15 years of marital life and started living on her own with her only daughter . Sounds very quite thrilling to me. Hey Shaila: talk to me more about your ups and downs dear, I want to hear more! I don’t have a story to tell as I took my teaching endeavour as a life goal and totally drowned into it. In this case, you are my story. For my readers information, we were able to continue learning writing of functional English course in a full swing though. Remember, we are in a teaching and learning feat! You bet!

Here comes the last student called Jahan, a banker of a renowned bank of my glorious country. Yes! Older than me! No way! I have to make him writing and speaking on my own! Can I do that ? I had to! I tried my best to teach everything with a proper teaching code and conducts. I believe, I was doing it in a very smart way unless he reported one day that he felt sick and he was unable to do my class. Yup! I got a break too! During that teaching hours, I pushed him to speak out loudly and correctly. I sent many YouTube links of idiomatic use in English phrases and words, IELTS sample tests and what not! He absorbed those tactics and sent me recorded audio files every night. Probably, that was so hard on him after his office. He stopped! He never returned. I am waiting for a text that he want a class that he already paid for. Where are you my dear test taker, the mentor inside me is crying out. I want to call him but you know the rule of professionalism, right? It’s the client who will look for you, not the mentor! As I’m already paid, I’m hesitant to ask him to come back to papa!!

ESL/EFL teachers please listen to my cry outs! Am I alone in this field? If you know someone who is having amazing learners of real life l, please tell them to visit my blog and be my fellows in sharing the rarest experience they gain as a byproduct of their teaching English.

[joelsdagger]

🛼🥑🍄 🍓🍦🥐🦋

(love ya)

aura my love thank u for asking these 💗

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

❄️🏚️👥🗡️🔫

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

funny you ask that bc i would 100% text you and @papurgaatika

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

this might lowkey be embarrassing but i dont really have favorite ships anymore, now its all just reader/self inserts…but, i really love the idea that when joel’s drunk he gets super flirty & affectionate. just kissing & touching all over 😩

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

honestly, i just wanted to get everything out of my head bc i truly felt like it was making me crazy. also, i feel like although i LOVE a lot of fics, at times i’ve read ones and my brain thinks the storyline or chapter is going one way and i tend to fixate on “what ifs” and then my brain comes up with specific scenes/ideas that i’ve never seen people write and i was like “well let me write it and see where it takes me.” plus i loved the idea of just sharing my work and improving my writing too

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

the “HER SISTER WAS A WITCH” debate between the two friends over the wizard of oz it’s HILARIOUS. just the aggressiveness and the yelling over something so dumb…..i relate 😭

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

oh god…okay well…this is very hard for me bc i usually don’t like anything about characters i hate LMAO but tywin lannister, he was extremely intelligent, a great leader & commander, & calculating. i HATED him but he was such an interesting character, i really enjoyed watching him in got

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

obviously my home 🇵🇸 i miss it a lot, not a day goes by without me thinking of them, my family over there, and just everything really. but on a lighter note, my fics, i miss writing i just have no motivation right now :(

i adore you and love you girl, i miss you sm 💞

[searenbound]

Katsuki and his feisty Omega because I had a bad case of the brainrot. Nothing smutty this time but probably gonna get a part two or something. Don’t know yet

Warnings: omegaverse, swearing, minor depiction of fighting as a part of the relationship dynamic, fem reader

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

-Did he ever, you know.…

-Shut the fuck up?

-Like ever, or did he come out of his mother a loud ass dickhead too?

-(Yn) truly wondered because the Alpha in question was just a tad too irritating to ever be not an absolute bastard

-Always showing off, a presence louder than his quirk and a scent like chili peppers that left your nose stinging and mouth unfortunately watering

-Picking pointless fights in efforts to look bigger and in control

-It pissed her off

-It especially pissed her off that her inner Omega was so interested in him

-Where she saw an insufferable ass, it saw a provider that could protect them and any future pups that fate might give them

-Where she smelled durning spices, it insisted that there was an underlying sweetness that it craved to know better

-And unfortunately this hunch was right

-The sweet scent of sugary caramel wafted off mixing deliciously with his usual spice and left her light headed and craving more

-Which was unfortunate in the moment seeing as she was busy growling at him for being an ass to her friends

-And he seemed affected in the wrong type of way which angered her more

-Of course he’d be the type to be turned on by an Omega threatening him while pinned under them

-Practically purring and saying something under his breath along the lines of how she had no shame trying to get breed when in public

-And when that earns him a punch he just snorts

-Fucking

-Snorts

-Before deciding she’s had her fun and effortlessly tosses her off him

-“Never met an Omega with so much nerve, I like that about you. Work on that punch, don’t want my ‘Mega to be weak” “Who the hell do you think you are Bakugou?! I’m not just gonna agree so easily!” “Fine I’ll court ya then”

-And without letting her get in another complaint he’s of

-Determined to make good on his word

-Giving her thoughtful gifts for her nest and considering it a success if she keeps even one of them

-Claiming it was only because she needed more of the item in question or a replacement for it

-But he always noticed the way she had to catch herself from indulging in his scent embedded in the items she did keep

-Trying to scent her directly always ended up in a fight so he used it as an excuse to help her train

-Feeling proud when he noticed her improvements and getting excited when she could tackle and pin him without relying on surprises

-He didn’t really fight off other Alphas

-Letting her handle herself and allowing the fact she tolerated him near her and touching her freely now speak for it’s self

-Little by little he endeared himself to her

-Proving he wasn’t just a loudmouth asshole that only knew how to pick fights and be a pain in the ass

-Never pressuring her and always working with in boundaries she’s set

-It honestly surprised him when she set aside her pride and told him honestly she was nesting

-He’s not an idiot, he’s aware being told is a show of deep trust

-She indirectly asking for more material so she can build a nice new nest in preparation for an upcoming heat

-And regardless of if he’s trusted enough to be allowed in the nest or help with said heat, he’s gonna give her everything she wants and then some

-His Omega deserves it after all

-But they need to ask for it because he wants to hear it

-“The hell does that have to do with me? Thought I wasn’t your Alpha?” “Don’t start… you know what fine. You wouldn’t be a bad Alpha for me, I guess I wouldn’t mind if you were to want me to be your Omega”

-Close enough

-“God, your stubborn, come by later and take whatever you want” “I’m not stubborn! You’re stubborn!” “You know what? No, you’re not getting shit from me!” “W-wait, you can’t do that Alpha! You already said-” “Oh, so it’s Alpha now?”

-Another argument and a boxing match later and she got what she wanted

[miyagihawk]

i don’t even know you anymore pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

a/n: a lot of people wanted a part 2 so here it is!! some hawk redemption :)))

warnings: a bit of swearing, mentions of violence maybe

summary: after your bad breakup with hawk, he wants a second chance

word count: 1,547

It’s been months after you and Hawk split, and you could confidently say that you’ve moved on.

It wasn’t easy; his group kept ruthlessly attacking your friends. It was like he wanted to make your life a living hell.

After that horrible fight at Golf N Stuff, watching Demetri’s arm get broken compelled you to join Miyagi Do. You never wanted to feel helpless again when your friends are in trouble.

Karate helped you move on. You became confident with yourself and instead of focusing on your break up, your mind was on self improvement. Seeing Hawk stoop down to his lowest level also helped; you wanted to be better than him.

“What... the hell?” you gasped.

As your friends arrived at your lunch table, they looked like they got trampled by a zoo. They almost looked unrecognizable with the amount of bruises and cuts decorating their faces.

Sitting down painfully, Sam said, “It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Well tell me! What happened last night, you guys look insane! Are you okay?” you exclaimed, worried and protective about your friends. They all looked so worn down, not meeting your eyes.

Last night, Miguel and Sam were planning on inviting both Miyagi Do and Eagle Fang over to “combine forces” against Cobra Kai. But you felt sick, so you couldn’t make it.

Your mouth fell slightly open as another person came up to the table.

Him.

What is he doing here?

No one was answering you, but you couldn’t blame them, they probably had the worst night.

Ignoring Hawk’s gaze on you, you got up from your seat and walked around the table to Miguel. You grabbed his arm and he winced. “Sorry,” you apologized, leading him out of the cafeteria into the hallway.

“Miguel can you just tell me what happened last night, who did this to you? And why is he here? I couldn’t make it one time and this happened, god, you couldn’t have texted me or someth-”

“Y/N, Y/N please calm down,” Miguel placed his hands on your shoulders, and it was only then you realized how hard you were breathing.

“Look at you. Look at everyone,” you felt your eyes tearing up. You were angry and frustrated, at yourself for not being there. Maybe you couldn’t have done much, but you still could’ve helped.

“Hey, I’m okay, alright? Everyone’s fine, just relax,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “Cobra Kai came last night.”

“What? To Sam’s house? How did they even-”

Miguel cut you off before you could ramble again, “I don’t know. But they showed up and it was like the school fight part two. Don’t worry though, they look pretty bad too. And we won,” he smiled.

“So why is... he... with us?” You looked over his shoulder through the cafeteria entrance where Hawk sit awkwardly with your friends, looking out of place.

“He helped us Y/N. I know things between you guys didn’t go down so well but I do believe he wants to change,” Miguel explained.

You tried to imagine Hawk fighting alongside Sam and Demetri, but it felt wrong. He’s done too much damage and you don’t think you can forgive him for any of it. How could they forgive him?

“Look, I lost Eli to Hawk too. I was friends with both of them. So I know that he’s being genuine. He wants to be better,” Miguel tried to convince you, leading you back to the cafeteria with him. “He also still cares about you, Y/N. I think you were the main reason he left Cobra Kai.”

You didn’t say anything, you just pondered on his words.

Could that be true? Hawk still cares about you? Then why did he put you through all this? Why now would he leave Cobra Kai for you when you aren’t even together?

You sat back down at the table, head hurting from all the questions you want the answer to.

There he was, sitting across from you. The only one who could really give you the answers. But you acted like he wasn’t there.

-

The first practice with Miyagi Do, Eagle Fang, and a tiny bit of Cobra Kai had just been dismissed. It ended early because it started raining, and you were all outside.

It went well. It definitely felt good to have a full team and that one less rivalry was gone.

But there was still a lot of awkward tension between you and Hawk. You guys had carefully avoided each other; you were never less than 5 feet apart and when you accidentally made eye contact, you both looked away in a millesecond. 

You said goodbye to your friends, putting up your hood over your head to prepare for your wet walk home.

You didn’t mind the rain, you actually loved it. But despite the Valley being known for its good weather, the winters were still harsh and frigid.

You hugged yourself with your arms as shivers shook your body. The sound of a car pulling up made you turn around; your first thought being that someone might kidnap you.

But the red car was familiar and you refrained from running away. The window was rolled down and Hawk’s face was revealed. “Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m walking home,” you say bluntly, and start continuing your walk. His car follows beside you, matching your pace.

“It’s cold as shit. Come on, I’ll give you a ride,” Hawk offered.

“No thanks,” you said, not even looking at him.

As you quickened your stride, you heard his car engine turn off and his door open then shut.

He caught up to you, grabbing your arm to stop you from walking. “Get in the car,” he demanded, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Why would I get in the car with you?” You laughed mockingly and he swallowed. Raindrops were falling on his eyelashes and he looked pretty, but you shook away the thought.

“Fuck, why are you so difficult. You’ll get sick, just come on,” he pulled you towards him, then without thinking your karate reflexes kick in and you hit him in the chest.

You almost feel bad, but he steps back, with an almost proud and amused smile. He thought it was cute.

“Why do you care?!” you raised your voice over the rain.

“Y/N I-”

“Why? You didn’t care for all of these months! Why now? You didn’t care when I wanted you to stop hurting people, why do you want to change now?” You bombarded him with all the questions that have been swirling around in your thoughts for days.

“I did care! I do care. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. Just please get in the car and we’ll talk about it,” Hawk pleaded, reaching out for you again, but you pull your arm away. His jaw clenched from your rejection.

“And I still loved you! Through it all! You broke Demetri’s arm, one of my best friends. He was your best friend too! And I still missed you! Do you know how horrible that feels?” you continued letting out your anger. All of the things you’ve wanted to say to him are spilling out of your mouth and you don’t even notice your tears.

His eyes were starting to brim with tears too, but you couldn’t tell if it was just the rain.

“I am sorry Y/N. For everything. I’ve never stopped fucking loving you and I missed you too. Like hell. I can’t take back what I did to Demetri but I’m trying, I’m trying to fix it,” he confessed, moving in closer to you.

“You’re a liar...” you hit him in the chest, but he didn’t budge. “You can’t say that... that you love me, you’re just a huge fucking liar!”

Before you could hit him again, he stopped your hands and put his arms around you. At first you tried to squirm out of his embrace, but eventually you gave in, letting out full sobs of heartbreak.

You missed this. His warmth and his soft skin. The way he rests his chin on the top of your head and how he rubs your back to soothe you. You hated the way you were just giving in, but you didn’t have it in yourself to pull away.

“You were right about all of it. I wasn’t myself,” he murmured into your hair. He missed holding you too, and he wondered how he went so long without doing so.

You looked up at him with your glassy eyes. His hair was drooping down from the mohawk because of the rain and he looked more like Eli.

The rain was still pouring down on both of you, but you had gotten used to it. Still in his arms, you were no longer shivering from the cold.

You lifted a hand up to place on his cheek, and you admire the kind blue eyes you’ve missed looking into.

You pushed your previous anger away and pressed your lips against his, revelling in the feeling of reuniting with your lover. You missed him so much. You got butterflies as you two moved together perfectly and he smiled against your lips.

“I never stopped loving you too, Eli.”

okay here’s a tag list for the people who wanted a part 2 :))) thank you so much for reading and feel free to send in any requests!

@rosiahills22 @sinicalh4wk @lina-lovebug @rudypankow-whore @miyagifang @blvxktvmmx @lulu-yuming @melinda-hargreeves @emmyboo019 @lllyyysss02

[sukirichi]

jujutsu kaisen characters as students in high school: (non-canon AU)

featuring: itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, getou suguru, & ryoumen sukuna notes: some parts include you as their friend, or even their high school love! (this is unedited/ not proofread)

masterlist ! requests are open 

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

he’s not the brightest bulb, but he makes up for it through hardwork and enthusiasm

yuuji is literally that classmate everyone is just friends with

the type who waves with a smile, saying “good morning!” the moment he walks through that door

with that being said, since he’s everyone’s friend, i headcannon that yuuji doesn’t really have a best friend because he’s so open and available to everyone it’s hard to have just a one on one conversation with him

not to say he’s always surrounded by a crowd that you can’t get near him, but everyone likes talking to yuuji

he just fits in so well and understands people 

kind of like how he easily clicked with junpei (please, i miss him, i still can’t believe that he’s...you know...)

whether it’s the guys raving to him about sports

or girls shyly talking about their crush on class or about that new shojo manga

yuuji is open to anything and everyone. this boy wears his heart on his sleeve and he’s honestly such a precious boy, please be kind to him <3

the type of student that gets called to answer in class but isn’t shy to admit he doesn’t know the answer while rubbing the back of his neck

he does pay attention tho

i think it’s canon that yuuji is a dedicated man, like from that time he just watched movies straight and kept his cursed energy controlled so the cursed corpse would stop hitting him

overall, yuuji is a very hard working student! 

he wouldn’t get over the top grades, but he’s really proud of himself (and he should be!)

also that one kid in class that is surprisingly good in sports despite his lanky figure and laid back persona, because all the other sports-craved people are always flexing or challenging other captains 

but plot twist, this boy is ripped and very, beautifully kept in trim

yeah he’s not really into club activities that much

not because he hates them, but he’s just not that into it. he’s more than glad to join in whatever activities though and enjoys them, but if asked what he’d like to do, it wouldn’t be that first thing that came to mind

in conclusion: itadori yuuji is the class sunflower that lights up everyone’s day  🌻

yuuji’s role: the hard worker! 

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

hands down, megumi is THAT student

if you’re volunteering in the library, you can sure as hell guarantee you’ll see megumi there

he doesn’t like studying in class because it’s too noisy, so if he’s in school, you’ll always see his name in the library logs

he’s that kid that aces all exams

the type to scowl when he sees a 96% mark because he’s expecting a perfect mark

okay before you come at me, i’m not saying megumi is that annoying smart kid in class that goes, “Oh, I’m so dumb, just a 96?”

no he’s more frustrated at himself because he knows he studied hard and lost sleep over it. he’s just wondering where he went wrong. he has literal note cards and customize flash cards on an app on his phone, waking up every four am and probably taking supplement classes after regular school hours

i headcannon that megumi is someone who always wants to do his best and actually goes through lengths to prove his worth

maybe it stems from having the need to show who he really is and what he’s capable of

but yeah i can totally see him doing that

also that cute student that keeps visiting the cafe every saturday morning, wearing a black hoodie and headphones tucked in, his pretty hands nestling over a book

he looks like a gamer but honestly i don’t think he’s got time for that lmao

would also be that guy people find hard to approach because of his quiet and reserved self

he’s pretty intimidating too

definitely sits beside the window at the back of the class. you can’t fight me on that

just because he’s smart and loves studying, it doesn’t mean he’ll sit on the front row and raise his hand every damn second

the teachers will encourage him to participate in class a little bit more, especially after seeing he’s awkward during group activities, but megumi just really prefers to do things by himself

i also headcannon him eating in the cafeteria like everyone else instead of having his alone time during a rooftop? like idk i can’t picture megumi completely isolating himself like that

he blends in well in a way that you know he’s just like everyone else; a human

but he also stands out in the manner that he’s a lot more introverted and reserved compared to everyone else

surprisingly good during sports and relay games

100% reliable

the type to stay up at midnight to finish a group project, sighing because his groupmates doesn’t care as much as he does, but turns it in anyway the next day

he’d be annoyed at them, but he doesn’t really like confrontation so he doesn’t out them to the teacher like that

but he’s also not someone who lets people walk over him, so he’ll simply say something about his groupmates becoming more responsible and to be serious for once as a “warning”

and yeah, he may be closed off, but once you get really close with him (even better if you have similar interests) you’ll find there’s a lot more to him than what you’ve originally seen and he’s actually a pretty great friend and supportive classmate

would teach you instead of just letting you copy his work or snap pictures of his notes

ugh he’s so responsible and morally right and that’s so attractive help

in conclusion: fushiguro megumi is the hidden gem  💎

megumi’s role: the intellectual outsider!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

man...i don’t know how to start this

i’ve said this about megumi, but gojo is also that student

no, in fact, he’s THE student

everyone loves him. literally everyone

the teachers? smitten

his classmates? in love

the school guard? calls him by his first name

the cleaning lady? turns into a star with the way she lightens up when he’s there

the cafeteria staff? yeah free food because he’s gojo satoru

gojo is what i like to call the “one who has it all” because....well, he kind of does

he’s really smart and talented, which comes as a surprise to everyone in the first day of school when he nearly gets kicked out for falling asleep in class

only for everyone to be shocked that he knows the answer already and the teacher is only discussing chapter 1 lmao

yeah he’d be that kid who always sleeps in class

or is playing games on his phone behind an open textbook

he literally doesn’t listen to what the teacher is saying at all - or at least that’s what he wants you to think

man is a god at multitasking and his seatmate would snicker because he’s crushing his enemies at a phone game, but then gojo coolly corrects the teacher about history or something

he’s pretty laid back tbh

but when he’s got everyone’s attention on him? ofc he’d show off

basketball meats are wild. even students from neighbouring schools would visit just to see gojo play - and he’s not even an official member! the coach just asked him to replace a sick player but boy won that champion shot

omg BASKETBALL PLAYER GOJO I CAN’T

but he pretty much excels at everything

except cooking class, gosh, don’t ever bring this man anywhere near a fire. that’s probably the only thing that really got him to detention this time because he always somehow talks himself out of getting that red card with his words and charm

also that kid that would receive lots of confession letters, chocolates, and random gifts in his shoe lockers

he knows he’s handsome and he’s not shy about it. in fact, he’s shameless when it comes to his allure on people

but he also doesn’t really date anyone (it’s canon this man won’t stay loyal to a single woman lmao)

if he and megumi were classmates, they’d be sort of rivals

megumi would always come on top of class, but gojo is just a breath away from the former’s perfect marks. if it only weren’t for megumi’s squeaky clean record and reputation - whereas satoru’s is TAINTED as heck - and the fact that gojo doesn’t really study as much as gumi, then yeah he’d also be top of the class if he wanted to

on a much more serious note,,,gojo acts like nothing really bothers him and he’s simply that effortless

but i feel like he grew up with tutors from a very young age and that’s how his natural intelligence was just further improved and increased with that type of environment in his childhood

and unlike megumi, i don’t think gojo would really have a set goal in mind on who he wants to be or what he wants to do in the future

he’d just be enjoying the moment <3

in conclusion: gojo satoru is the effortless god!

satoru’s role: the lazy king everyone is envious of 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

the playboy

you can’t argue with me on this one

he just is, i feel it deep in my SOUL he just is

moment he walks in, all classy and suave aura and all, you can honestly smell and taste the amount of confidence that drips from him

probably came from a well-off family

probably the mayor’s kid lmao and he’s been used to the attention ever since he was young

much like megumi, he’s not really the type to show off his intelligence

and similar to gojo, people are surprised he’s actually got them brain cells just because everyone is more focused on his appearance first

like who would expect this tall hunk beautiful beast of a man with long hair and piercings actually liked classic novels and could effortlessly recite sonatas and poems in different languages

yeah i headcannon that getou is an intellectual, cultured man

ofc having long hair and piercings isn’t allowed in his school, but because he’s geto and the school knows about his family’s influence, they just let it slide

probably comes late to school too

he eats in the cafeteria, but you don’t really see him indulge much. some days, he’ll have his own fancy bento box prepared by a family chef, but geto is actually pretty simple and humble that he also buys packed bread or canned coffee 

takes the library volunteer by surprise when he drops by one friday after class to borrow an old classic novel that even your professors had a hard time analysing

but geto’s like, “oh this? yeah i last read it when i was thirteen, thought i’d read it again”

IDK WHY but I can see him as sort of breaking the rules when it comes to the school uniform

top three buttons of his shirt open when he’s feeling hot or something

doesn’t really keep his tie that tight too

but overall, geto is a composed and well-put together guy

i just can’t picture him slacking when it comes to his appearance, he’s too fancy and pretty for that

he’s also similar to megumi in a way people find it hard to approach them, but most definitely, geto also receives confessions often 

i can see him dating someone after being interested in someone in school and actually being serious with them unlike gojo

then they would be “that” couple that’re just so couple goals

not the type that goes overboard with pda and pulls off the angry face emoji when they hear someone talking about them and they’re like, “NO HE’S MINE”

okay that’s cringe but i legit witnessed that way too many times in high school yall cant blame me lmao

but they’d be more like the chill laid back couple that supports each other in everything and you can just tell they have a happy, healthy relationship

(oh to be getou’s girlfriend in high school and his first love and all his firsts)

in conclusion: getou suguru is the unpredictable!

getou’s role is: that one classmate you really admire but he’s so far out your league but he’s genuinely a good guy anyway so you’re happy for him no matter what <3

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

okay okay hear me out but...the stoner

i really can’t see him any other way guyssss

and if you’re his classmate, you most likely wouldn’t see him that much either

dude is like 2-3 years older than everyone in class and he doesn’t give a shit about it

he’ll come like...once a week, if he’s in the mood enough

teachers don’t even bother scolding him for his tattoos anymore because there’s rumours going around he’s the son of a yakuza leader or that he’s a gangster who sells organs or some creepy dark stuff

ofc he doesn’t do that

he just does drugs and gets drunk at most

sukuna doesn’t really have that much friends either. yeah he parties with people and often gets high with some older kids, but he doesn’t genuinely enjoy their companies either

would totally come to school with his uniform unironed

red-eyed from his high and naps at the back of the class, making the teacher soften their voice in fear of waking him up

also doesn’t have a pen or paper

i mean...he doesn’t even bring a bag

fails the exams all the time, making him repeat year by year, and he’s even known for beating his senpai up for something stupid and sending the guy to a hospital where he stays for two weeks

but on the other hand

he’s also freakishly attractive and surprisingly easy to talk to

you probably bumped into him one time and you profusely apologize, but then he notices something about, something odd like, “did you just cut your hair?”

“uhm yes...you noticed?”

sukuna shrugs lazily, “noticed something was different, but whatever. it looks good on you though.”

he’s just soooo nonchalant most of the time, it’s hard to believe he’s actually pretty violent

but yeah this man has anger issues i’m sorry

but with that speaking, i actually don’t see sukuna as a bully with like a gang of his “followers” or that type of jazz

he’s more like the kid that hides under the bleachers or gets high in a storage room while everyone else is occupied with school festivals

it’s a shock he even came, but sukuna just says “free food is always a gift” but ofc it’s not free food...he just steals from the stalls

now here comes the fun part

so now that we know sukuna pretty much is a hopeless case...suddenly, he isn’t? maybe he meets you, the class volunteer who goes out of their way to visit his shabby apartment just to hand him his class work that he’s missed out on

he obviously disses you at first and ignores you, telling you to get lost

but somehow your kindness and persistence has him breaking

now he starts coming to school often, carrying a pack of gum or mint pops because he smells like weed and he’s slightly conscious of himself

this is supposed to be just them being students in high school, but i could honestly sukuna changing colors once he just gets a better grasp of what would be good for him

or maybe something finally interests him and gives answers to his silent questions

i feel like he’s such a troubled kid and just lacks proper care and attention, but once you become his friend and show him you don’t have bad intentions, he’s actually a loyal and decent guy

and when you two finally get close, you eventually gain enough courage to tutor him. sukuna is actually pretty smart too, he just doesn’t like studying, but when you compliment him, oh man, he melts

“yeah, you actually got that right! i told you you could do this!”

tsk,” he scoffs, “that’s all kindergarten shit.”

“if it is, then why haven’t you graduated?”

“shut the fuck up.”

although he sneers, you and sukuna have gotten close enough that you know both of you don’t mean anything bad behind those words and it’s all light hearted teasing

oh and when you ask him to take a picture with you for “high school memories?”

sukuna is disgusted

“get that thing away from my face - did you just take my photo?”

“yeah, you look pretty cute here! i’m so printing this and putting this in my album.”

sukuna is about to scold you even more, but the thought of you putting your photo together - even when he’s frowning in the picture - in something as sentimental as a photo book really has him softening up

would even try - keyword is try - to study more just so you’d stop frowning when you see his paper covered in red marks all over again

and he’d even try cutting down on his weed for the sake of his “health”

ofc he won’t suddenly - or ever, even - become the amazing student megumi is

he’ll still get into trouble because he’s impulsive and has poor coping skills, also he’s not good with words or dealing with his emotions

but on his good days, he’s a pretty funny guy

it just takes a lot to see that side of him, but it’s worth the time and patience

also i was expecting to write funny scenarios or imagines of stoner! sukuna because he’s too high to even hold a proper conversation sometimes but all i got is him saying weird words like “snail trap” or something when you ask him how his day is

would also have that garbled little laugh when he’s so out of it

sukuna will try to be better though, you just need to be patient him

but my GOSH when he finally graduates

he’s going to hide that little smile because deep down, he’s also pretty proud of himself and how far he’s come <3

lol now this makes me want to writer a high school au lololol

in conclusion: yeah he’s the stoner with a good heart 

which is so not canon...this shouldn’t even be a headcanon we know ryoumen sukuna is PURE EVIL but oh well maybe when I’m down from my sukuna high I’ll write him a lot more canonically

[shingia]

Could I request Kuroo, Bokuto, Tsukishima, Sakusa, Miya twins, and Tendou with a reader who used to self harm but was sober for a while, only to relapse after they left bc of a huge argument then please and thanks? Sorry if that’s really intense tho. And thank u for being so nice🙂💞

[𝐓𝐖] 𝐒/𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌

ok i reaaally hope this is what you expected. i didn’t know what kind of ending you wanted but i decided that you, my friend, needed comfort, so i gave you comfort because you deserve it ❤️️

i hope reading this will make you feel better! kisses on your nose ❤️️

type : (strong) angst | word count : 4.4K

warnings : mentions of self-harm, depiction of depressive behavior (plz do not read if any of these might trigger something, i want you all to be safe <3)

⇀ 𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨

« fuck you, kuroo. fuck. you. ». those were the last words you had told him. they had hurt, but they were nothing compared to the last words he had told you, the words that kept playing over and over in your head as you slowly felt yourself drift to your old habits again : « i’m done with you ».

was it your fault ? did you push him over the edge ? you had many questions to ask kuroo, but he wasn’t there to answer anymore. so these thoughts were left spiraling in your head as you started to lose balance between love and pain. because his love used to be the cure to your pain. so now what ? what were you supposed to do other than going back to your old habits ? you couldn’t think of any answer.

on monday morning, you woke up thirty minutes earlier because, first of all, you needed some time for the swelling of your eyes to go down, and second of all, you needed to mentally prepare yourself to see kuroo again. it had been two days since your fight, and he had not manifested himself once. it seemed to be well and truly over ; and that thought had been the main cause of the collapsing of your mental strength over the last two days.

during your first period, although you were avoiding his gaze, kuroo couldn’t help but cast glances in your direction. because he knew you better than anyone, and he could only imagine how hurt you were.

but he really started to get suspicious when he noticed you were not raising your hand to correct today’s homework. he had helped you with that last week, and you had told him that you felt confident enough to propose your correction to the class ; which rarely happened. so why weren’t you raising your hand ?

he had a bad feeling about the answer… he didn’t care about giving you quick glances anymore, he just stared at your arms until one of your movements would make your sleeve reveal just a few inches of your skin.

and he was horrified to have his fears confirmed. the cuts that he had so often kissed while holding you in his arms were back. and he knew it was all because of him. and although his first thought was that it was not his job to heal them anymore, he couldn’t bring himself to act unbothered.

he had loved you for long enough to know that you needed him right now. or maybe he still loved you ? it was not clear, but it didn’t matter right now. what mattered was that he needed you to listen to what he wanted to say, even if that was the last thing you accepted to hear from him.

« y/n, we need to talk » he told you once you got out of the classroom. you looked up at him ; his face was unusually austere. he carefully grabbed your shoulder and took you away from everyone else. 

« i can’t… i couldn’t walk out of there pretending like i didn’t see what your arms looked like » he started. « now listen, i know i fucked up, but i still care. and you still matter. whatever our relationship is doesn’t define you and most importantly, these don’t define you » he pointed at your wrists, his brows furrowed with concern. « so please, i’m begging you, keep in mind that i’m always here if you need to talk. always. and if you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, but in that case, please find someone else. for the sake of everything we've been through together, don't let everything you’ve accomplished go to waste » and he wrapped his arms around you in the strongest hug he had ever given.

⇀ 𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨

it had already been a week. and bokuto had absolutely no idea what to do. call you ? text you ? probably not. what would he even say ? « hi, sorry for slamming the door in your face after screaming at you for fifteen minutes. am i still your boyfriend ? » awful idea.

and while bokuto was pondering every option he had left to get in touch with you, you were left in the darkest place of your mind. and you hadn’t felt like that in a few months. because bokuto used to always be there, his number on speed dial whenever you feared you would relapse. and thanks to his unwavering support, you hadn’t. but was there anything in this world that was truly unwavering ? you really started to doubt it. and now that bokuto had left you, what could carry the pain away ? whatever the answer was, you were in no condition to think rationally about it.

you remembered how he used to celebrate every improvement in your mental health, how strong of a cornerstone he had been for you. and just the fact of not knowing where you guys were at after your fight was enough to make you feel like you were drowning again.

you were overflowing with emotions that you thought you couldn’t control, and apart from holding on tight to bokuto’s chest, you only knew one way to feel better.

you loved him, you really did. but after a week without hearing from him, you started to think that maybe his feelings were not as real as he pretended they were. and how could you not blame him for that ? for letting you down so fast ?

curled up in your bed, tears were streaming down your face ; because you felt weaker than you had promised yourself to be. you were exhausted, in every sense of the word, yet there was still a tiny bit of strength left in your body that made you grab your phone and open your conversation with bokuto. the last message was a bitter pill to swallow : « no problem babe, i’m always here for you ». it was just a week ago but it felt like an eternity had passed. your fingers started slowly typing on the screen and immediately hit sent, knowing that you would second guess your message if you re-read it. « can we talk? », just three words, it was the maximum you could get off of your chest right now.

but bokuto did not answer. for the simple reason that he was too busy catching his breath in front of your door. he frantically knocked, not stopping until you opened it.

« oh my god, are you okay ?! » he exclaimed, patting your entire body like he wanted to make sure you were well and truly there. and once he had made sure of that, he pulled you against his chest like he wasn’t planning on letting you go ever again. « did- did you… » he ventured to ask, not wanting to finish his sentence precisely because he was afraid of your answer. but when he heard you let out a muffled sob against his chest, his fears instantly got replaced by guilt. more than he had ever felt. « you’re alright, i got you. i got you now… » he murmured, his hands stroking your back tenderly. « we’ll get through this together, ok ? we’ll show the world how strong you are. because i know you are. »

⇀ 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚

yes, sakusa had run away. and he was glad he had. because he knew how hurtful he could be with his words, and he had enough respect not to inflict that to you. but as he made his way back home, doubt started installing in his head. what if he shouldn’t have left you after your fight ? he immediately shook the thought away. no, you were good now. you were better. nothing like who you were when he met you.

and sakusa could be very convincing when he needed to, including with himself. that’s why he didn’t get in touch with you for the next three days, because he thought you just needed some time for yourself.

but when he received a worried text from komori when he got out of the gym after practice, he changed his mind within seconds. « i just saw y/n, something felt off. maybe you should check on them ? ».

sakusa felt a wave of guilt descend upon of him. of course he should. it was his fucking job to offer you his help, even when he thought you didn’t need it. and especially when he knew what you had already been through. he cursed himself all the way to your house, where he could only imagine how lonely you felt. not wanting to waste any more time, he pulled out his phone to call you. and heaved a relieved sigh at the sound of your voice : « hey, are you ok ? like, right now are you doing ok ? » he asked hastily. 

you sat on your bed and rubbed your strained eyes, fiddling with the cloth of your t-shirt. « i- yeah, i’m good… » you lied. « i’m at your door, open up please, i gotta see you » he said before hanging up.

you knew sakusa was not going to take no for an answer. so, after wiping your tears and putting on a long-sleeved hoodie and sweatpants, you went to open the door. 

« hi… » you uttered quietly. sakusa didn’t dare to move. he had been so determined to get to your house, but now that you were standing in front of him, he wasn’t so sure of what he was supposed to do.

you decided to be the first to break the silence,  « i’m okay. and i’m sorr… » « sorry. about everything. » he pre-empted you. seeing you like this made him fear the worst. so he gently grabbed your wrists like he wanted to hold your hands, when in reality he just wanted to confirm his thoughts. and when he saw you stiffen at his touch, he knew he had guessed right. « come here » he whispered before going in for a hug. but you pulled away at the last second. « can we… go to my room ? i- i feel better there » you asked timidly.

he didn’t even answer and simply wrapped his arm around your shoulder before taking you to your bedroom where you immediately curled up on your bed. you didn’t want sakusa to see you like this, but you were in no position to fight back anymore. quietly, he laid beside you and pulled you in a warm embrace, just tight enough to let you know that he got you now. 

when he noticed you were trying to find something to say, to explain yourself, he shushed you with a kiss on your shoulder. « you don’t have to speak if you don’t want to. but i want you to listen to me very carefully : don’t ever think that you’re back to square one now. you’ve dealt with this before, you’ve grown and you can do it again as long as you promise yourself to get back up. and i won’t leave your side. you deserve so much more than what you give yourself, and i’m here to remind you »

⇀ 𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

tsukishima’s pride was important to him, everyone knew it. the only thing he valued as much as his pride was probably you. but during your arguments, the scale always tipped in his pride’s favor, you simply could not compete.

but surprisingly enough, it was you who had told him to go away after getting in the most heated argument you had ever had. and he didn’t have to be told twice : you had shattered his beloved pride, and he was not going to stay here begging for your mercy.

he still loved you, but he also had no problem ignoring you at school. yet for some reason, this argument didn’t sit well with him. well, no arguments ever sat well with him, but today felt different. 

ignoring you was one of the most hurtful things tsukishima could ever do to you. he had helped you through so much, and suddenly becoming a stranger to him was slowly bringing you back down.

« it’s just one time, i won’t relapse » you thought the first time you tried to cope with the pain the way you used to. but you feared it wouldn’t be just one time. you were diving into what you had said goodbye to ; but now that tsukishima was ignoring you, there was no one to stop you from falling, right ? 

well, that would have been true if he hadn’t kept a discreet but attentive eye on you. which is why he knew very well that you had gone back to your old habits. and he needed to do something about it.

but he wasn’t good with words, and he feared that actions would not be enough this time. he needed something more permanent, something that you could keep with you all the time. so he decided to do something he had never done before, and gave it to you as soon as it was done…

receiving a letter from tsukishima was definitely not something you expected. but what was written in it was even less expected.

« i’m not the best at this kind of stuff, but… i really need you to stop being so hard on yourself. i know it’s not something i usually say, but i fell in love with you because i learned to love your imperfections. and you have to start doing the same about yourself. please. and if you need to be held, to be listened to, i’ll be there. but i wanted to write something because i want you to be able to read this as much as you need, as much as you want. i want you to get better, but even more than that, i want you to want to get better. you can do it, i believe in you more than you can think. please come to me if you need it. i love you ».

the tears that streamed down your face had a salty taste, but for the first time in a long time, they tasted like hope as well. and the next time you came face to face with yourself and your thoughts, your eyes found find their way back to the letter, and you knew that there were people that still believed in you, counted on you, loved you. tsukki was just the first one of a long list. (<3)

⇀ 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮

he had been there through everything. more than you would have imagined. which is probably why you felt desperately empty ever since he got so angry at you that he left without looking back. but at the time, it simply had not crossed his mind that you would suffer so deeply from his words.

but you did. a lot. and that was the reason you found yourself crying on your bedroom floor, not even able to be mad at anyone but yourself.

still oblivious to the true damage, atsumu thought he could get back to you by pretending like nothing had happened. he often did that because, to him, what was in the past belonged in the past. except that today, and in your situation, it could not work.

« wanna grab something to eat ? » was the first text he sent you. and you didn’t feel like answering, so you didn’t. « are you still mad ? i’m not <3 » was the second one. but you still didn’t feel like answering. maybe it was your fault ? maybe you were overreacting while you were just supposed to play it cool like he did ? but you would have played it cool if you knew how to.

when atsumu decided to go to your house, it was initially to apologize in person. he had not planned on seeing you looking the way you did, which was a heart-wrenching reminder of the dark period of time you had gotten through together. but here he was, standing in front of you, feeling more helpless than ever. he knew too well the look into your eyes, one that he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

he dropped the pack of snacks he was holding in his hands before cupping your cheeks. « oh no, no, no. i fucked up, didn’t i ? i am… so so so sorry. c-can you forgive me ? » he stammered, absolute panic in his eyes as he took you in his arms. why would i have to forgive you ? you thought. i’m the only one to blame. 

but atsumu seemed to also hear the things you didn’t say, and he refused to let you feel guilty for anything. ever so gently, he took your hands in his before placing the softest kisses on your wrists that were still covered by the sleeves of your hoodie. « i probably won’t ever forgive myself for leaving you alone. but promise me you’ll always come to me if you need help, or any kind of support, hugs, kisses… you name it. i’ll be your coping mechanism, and i’ll be the best you’ve ever had »

and he kept holding you for a long time, at least until he felt your breath become steady again. and if you thought atsumu was doting before, prepare yourself to be even more amazed now.

⇀ 𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮

fighting with osamu was not frequent, fortunately. but when fights occured, it was bad. really bad. he tended to think that you could endure as much as atsumu when it came to harsh words ; but you couldn’t.

kind of like his brother, samu had a tendency to leave the past behind and pretend like nothing happened when he got in touch with you after a fight. and that’s what he did a week ago, after one of the biggest arguments that you had ever had.

too happy that he seemed to still want to be your boyfriend, you didn’t have the courage to tell him how you had gone back to your old habits during the time you were on bad terms. but as they said, old habits died hard, and your destructive thoughts were still very present even when things seemed to have gotten back to normal.

yet samu was not blind, and he noticed that you were acting a bit more distant since last week, since your fight. but he still thought that your problems could be solved by just keeping on pretending like everything was ok. and eventually, things would turn out ok by themselves, right ?

you were laying on his bed, turned on your side as you scrolled on your phone. usually you would have had an arm swung around him, but you didn’t want to take any risk, so you kept your distances. 

« hey, come closer baby. we’ve barely cuddled today » he told you before lazily wrapping his arm around your waist.

feeling nervous, you swallowed the lump in your throat before putting your phone on the nightstand. « i’m going to sleep, samu », you said, stretching your arm to turn off the light.

but he was quicker than you and gently grabbed your arm, careful not to apply any pressure on it. his eyes widened, he had barely seen your wrist but it had been enough to notice that the scars were recent. he put two and two together and looked at you dead in the eyes ; you looked ashamed, and it broke his heart. « when did y- was it because of me ? » he asked, his voice faintly shaking. you pulled away from his hand and held your arm against you, sinking in the pillow. « no, of course not. it’s nothing » you breathed out, looking away to avoid his gaze. but he was quick to make you face him again, with a slight pressure of his fingertips on your red cheeks. « there’s only one thing that i hate more than seeing you in pain. it’s knowing that i caused this pain. let me help you, y/n. please. you deserve to feel better. i’m sorry i didn’t give you as much love as you gave me. and i’m sorry for behaving like an asshole when you needed me. just… fuck, i just love you ».

tears started prickling the corner of your eyes, but he saw you trying to hold them back. with the most gentle look in his eyes, he proposed to turn off the light if it made you feel better. and you nodded ; you knew that you’d eventually had to have a face-to-face conversation with him. it was the only way to get better. but right now you just wanted to be held without thinking about what he’d see. or wouldn’t see.

so he turned off the light and let yourself get comfortable in bed before wrapping you in his embrace once again. his soft breath against your neck was obviously not enough to make all your pain magically go away, but it let you know that he had your back. and it was all that mattered.

⇀ 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮

« i don’t want to do this anymore, y/n ! » tendou had yelled, making this sentence the peak of your argument. six words, and they were on replay in your minds since four days. you couldn’t believe that almost two years of relationship had ended so abruptly. but you had to face the truth : tendou had enough of you. and obviously you linked that to the turbulent start of your relationship. you knew it hadn’t been easy for him to deal with your self harm when you had just started dating. yet he had managed to make you feel so much better that you had been sober for about a year, all thanks to him. but maybe you hadn’t been grateful enough ? maybe that was why he had decided to end things now ?

the only thing you knew for sure was that he was gone, and you felt like you had lost your anchor.

you had spent the weekend in your dorm, and it had been a painful weekend. so painful that you did not get out of bed on monday morning ; it was just too much to handle. deep down you knew that you were not handling your problems the right way… and escaping reality was not viable.

but little did you know that tendou wanted nothing more than to see you again in the hallways and finally have a heart-to-heart conversation with you. and when he didn’t see you in class, he started to freak out. he knew how it was to feel alone and rejected ; and he started to fear that he had caused you to feel exactly that. so he did not follow his friends to the cafeteria at lunch and headed to your dorm instead, hoping that you’d open the door.

and you did. thank god you did. but panic started bubbling in his chest when his eyes laid on your face.

« alright, come here » he told you with a forced smile before pulling you in his embrace. truthfully, he didn’t feel like smiling, but he knew that the last thing you needed was to think you made him feel bad. when he was with you, his main goal was to cheer you up, he’d deal with himself later. « angel… did you do it again ? » he asked, his tone being the furthest thing from judgmental. you muttered a quiet apology, your face buried in his white uniform jacket. but something lingered on your mind. angel ? it sounded right, but you knew it wasn’t. not anymore. « don’t apologize ! the only person you owe an apology to is yourself » he whispered against your ear. slowly, he put his hands on your waist before bringing you to your bed where he sat right next to you, still refusing to take his hands off of your body.

 « tendou, you don’t have to do this… » you muttered, knowing that you weren’t supposed to be this close anymore. « i’m your ex, you don’t owe me anything ».

he immediately looked down to meet your eyes, an eyebrow raised in confusion. « your ex ? wh- you think i broke up with you ? y/n, when i said that i didn’t want to do this anymore, i was talking about fighting with you ! i’m sorry, i should have texted you these last few days, but i thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me »

a tear rolled down your cheek. tendou’s words sounded like heaven right now. maybe you weren’t alone after all ?

« now, do you need me to get you something ? band-aids ? anything ? » he asked, caressing your hair with his right hand. you nodded your head no and kept your head buried in his neck, like you were waiting for his scent to go to your head. « i know you’ve been through a lot, and i’m proud of you no matter what. but, you know… even though i have enough love for the both of us, i’d really want you to have enough love for yourself » he said and placed a kiss on top of your head, waiting for you to say something. but he sensed that you were not ready yet. and he was ok with that, the last thing he wanted to do was to pressure you. it was going to be a long path, but you had already done it, and you were going to do it again. and he’d be there the whole time.

ok so if you’ve read until there it probably means that you needed comfort (i hope i have given you enough) : so if you are in this situation yourself, PLEASE don’t be afraid to ask for help, you can and you will get better. i’m rooting for you like saeko roots for karasuno ❤️️

@toworuu (didn’t forget about you ^^)

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[seokiie]

𝙸𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍? 𝙸𝙸

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

+𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.1𝘬

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪-𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩, (𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 !! 𝘛𝘢𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 !!)

On AO3 || part one

~

"Are you working a double today?" Your friend says with her jacket in hand and bag around her shoulder.

"No. No, I think I'm gonna head back to my dorm today." You sigh from behind the counter, untying your apron and folding it in your hands.

You felt kind of dumb. For the past month and a half you've been staying late at work, working doubles just in case a certain someone decided to show up. Just your luck, he never did. It was almost taunting, working extra hours almost every day just to go home alone. He never texted you and, well, to be fair you never texted him either. You felt like you had a pass, though, because you didn't know when he'd be back in America. What was the point of texting first if you didn't know that one crucial fact?

While the extra money was nice, you couldn't afford to work late anymore. Midterms were just around the corner and you really needed to get back to your dorm and study.

As you're gathering your things to leave and locking up, the whole situation seems to hit you. You and Taehyung are from completely different worlds. Taehyung's apart of a worldwide Korean pop group and you're a broke college student who works part-time at an urban cafe. You mentally facepalm at the fact that you thought Taehyung would ever come back to you. He probably has so many options in Korea, not even. He has options all over the world, for god's sake.

You're letting out another groan of self-pity when you're phone chimes with a new text. Almost a little too eagerly, you unlock your phone and-

It's a text from your roommate.

You coming back tonight or are u working late??

You let out another groan. You're roommate only asked that if she was planning on bringing a guy back to the dorm, which wasn't allowed but you're no snitch.

"Lucky me, looks like I'm spending the night at the library." You roll your eyes at no one but yourself, turning off the main light and stepping out of the cafe. The air outside is a lot colder compared to this morning. You kind of regret not bringing a jacket as goosebumps start to rise on your bare arms and thighs. On top of that, you have to walk all the way to the library. It really was your lucky day, huh. You close the front doors, locking them then shoving the keys into your bag.

It wasn't too late, it was maybe seven or eight o'clock yet it was still cloudy and sullen. Walking somewhere as far as the campus library while it was this dark didn't sit right with you but you didn't have anywhere else to go or any other way to get there. Ah, at least the library had heaters and those comfy beanbag chairs-

"Hey." Just as you're starting to comfort yourself with the promise of a gigantic physics textbook, long fingers are wrapping around your arm and gripping you with a force that has you stumbling backward. Are you being kidnapped? You always saw posts about watching out for sex traffickers but you never thought it'd happen to you. You're too young, you have a future!

"Who-who are you?! Don't kill-" You're practically begging for your life, nearly screaming in hopes that someone walking by will see something wrong until... until you actually look up and meet the eyes of this ominous stranger.

"T-Taehyung?" You finally stop your struggle when you notice the black mask, black hoodie, and blond curls. Did he get taller compared to the last time you saw him?

"Hi."

Is that all he had to say? He kind of just stands there with his fingers still wrapped around your arm. His eyes are squinty and you can tell he's smiling despite the mask. He was clearly happy to see you but you weren't one hundred percent sure you felt the same way.

"Hi? Seriously?" You raise an eyebrow and scoff, trying to pull your arm out of his hold a second time but his grip is still too tight. You can see the moment his smile falters and you'd feel guilty if it weren't for his nails digging into your arm right now. Seriously, does he have any idea how strong he is?

"You not happy to see me?" You can hear the pout in his voice and his hold on you finally loosens. You let your arm fall to your side and you rub the area with your other hand, trying to make some of the pain go away.

"I- I'm- you can't-" You sputter. Okay, you were happy to see him, you have to admit, but that doesn't mean you weren't a little frustrated with him.

"Aw, just as shy as I remember." Taehyung's eyes get squinty again and he brings his hand up to pat the top of your head. You don't know whether to feel embarrassed or exhilarated at the gesture.

"Wanted to see you for while. Did you... miss me?" You watch the way Taehyung's eyes trail down your body and you feel your skin heat up at the simple action. Despite half his face being hidden, you could practically taste the lust in his eyes.

"I... It doesn't matter if I missed you. I didn't think you'd ever come back..." You cross your arms and turn away. You don't want him to notice how flustered he'd made you with just a couple of words.

"Why would you think that? You think the coffee shop was it? You think I don't want more?" Taehyung brings his hand up to your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek gently. It seemed like a comforting gesture but you could tell there was much more to it.

"As I was on the plane, my mind... it went to you. I don't know why. All I can think is how good you'll taste..." Taehyung's eyes visibly darken as his hand moves down your body from your cheek to your waist, his fingers pressing against your back slightly as he pulls you closer.

"Fuck, I could barely wait. You'll let me have you, right? You'll let me fuck you properly this time?" He suddenly tugs you forward and to avoid tripping into him, you place both of your hands on the plain of his chest, hard and muscular and fuck. He must've done that on purpose. You could sense his smirk through his mask.

"Wait... Shit, Taehyung, someone's gonna- someone's gonna see us." Your hold on Taehyung's shirt tightens when you feel big hands drifting slowly from your waist to your ass. Honestly, you really did miss him, you missed having his hands on you like this, and now that he's finally touching you your frustration is starting to melt away.

"Let's go somewhere." It's only been a month or so and his English had improved so much from when you last saw him. He seemed to speak more naturally now. If anything was certain it was that Taehyung took studying way more seriously than you did.

"Where..?" Your mind is kind of a mess right now but you try to remind yourself that this is Taehyung. Worldwide superstar Taehyung whose apart of the biggest boy band in the world. If anyone saw you two together or even thought to take a picture of you two together everything would be ruined.

"Somewhere. C'mon."

Your mom had told you many times growing up, never talk to strangers. She especially told you to never ever get into cars with strangers. As you're sitting in the passenger seat of Taehyungs car, you wonder if your mom's shpeal applies to a moment like this. Well, Taehyung wasn't exactly a stranger. And with the way he made you cum you don't think you'd ever let him become a stranger.

"What you are thinking?" A warm hand on your thigh snaps you out of your thoughts. He probably thought something was wrong since you were looking out the window with your arms crossed. To be fair, there was no way you could be relaxed in this situation. The big hand that covers the vast majority of your thigh definitely helps though.

"Nothing." You say quietly. To be completely honest, you can't really remember what you were thinking about, the simple gesture of putting a comforting hand on you having wiped your memory entirely.

"Nothing?" You can hear the way Taehyung's voice drops an octave, turning it into some kind of seductive murmur. His hand drifts a little higher and he gives a light squeeze, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh delectably. Fuck sake, can this man give you a break?

"Ye-yeah... nothing." You stutter. Were you really touch starved to the point where a mere hand on your thigh had you salivating? You guess so.

"Really nothing?" His hand rests there for a little while before moving under your skirt. Your breath hitches and your legs open the tiniest bit as if on instinct. That seems to grab Taehyung's attention because, for the first time during the car ride, his eyes flicker towards you then back to the road. He inhales deeply then lets out a slow exhale.

"Taehyung..." You meant to say his name as a warning but it comes out as more of a breathy moan. A pair of fingers press against you through the thin material of your panties. You only wore them because you wanted to feel pretty but it looks like they came in handy.

Before you can bask in the feeling of Taehyungs fingers rubbing against you, he pulls away and puts both hands back on the wheel. A couple of curse words you don't understand stumble from his mouth and suddenly he's pulling over.

"Wha..?"

"Backseat. Now." Taehyung parks the car and everything starts to make sense when you see him unbuckle his seatbelt haphazardly.

"We're doing this here?" Surprise is evident in your tone and okay, yeah, maybe car sex has been on your bucket list for a while now, and maybe doing it with Taehyung in the back of his expensive GV80 wasn't such a bad idea.

"Was gonna take you to our hotel but too far. Can't wait anymore. Get in the backseat right now." Taehyung licks his lips and when you meet his eyes you finally notice how dark they are. You quickly unbuckle your own seatbelt and crawl over the armrest console into the comfy leather seats. You could honestly fall asleep here.

"You look fucking delicious." Taehyung slowly pushes you down until your laying on your back and he's looking down at you. The glint in his eyes is something ominous and hungry. He was looking at you as if you were his next meal. No guy has ever looked at you with this much lust in their eyes.

"Touch me, please." You don't want to sound needy but holy shit all you've been able to think about these past few weeks is Taehyung fucking the life out of you. By the looks of it, you're not the only one.

"Soon." Is all he says before pressing soft lips against yours. The kiss starts off slow, the two of you learning the other's motions almost like you were dancing. When you let out a breathless pant, he slips his tongue in your mouth, and all of a sudden things aren't moving as slow anymore. You bring your hand up and slide your fingers into Taehyung's silky hair easily, inadvertently making him kiss you harder.

"I hope- I hope you didn't replace me..." Taehyung pulls away for a second only to press light pecks down your jaw, all the way down to your neck. "... while I was gone."

"I didn't. Promise. I waited for you. Please..." Taehyung sucks dark hickeys into your neck, sucking until you hissed in pain. You always had a sensitive neck and the man above you was truly making the most of it.

"Good. Don't want one- anyone in this hole beside me. This pussy is mine." As if to emphasize his point, he grinds his hips down against yours and fuck, there's no way he's that hard already.

"Ah, Tae-" You moan at the feeling of him rubbing against you. Even with the layers and layers of clothes in the way, you could feel perfectly just how thick and long he was. Not to mention the clear possession in his voice.

He already had you wrapped around his finger.

"Ah, jinjja, I can't believe this. You forget what I said last time?" Taehyung pulls away to unbuckle his belt and the action alone has your brain buffering.

"Eyes are up here, jagiya." He uses a singular finger to tilt your chin up and his voice is doing that thing again. That thing where it's deep and smooth like butter and you can practically taste the flirtation in his tone.

"Answer me. You forgot, hm? Call me oppa." As soon as his pants are off, he's sliding down your body and flipping up your short, pleated skirt. You're not exactly sure what he's about to do until he leans in close to your lower abdomen, bites the thin waistband of your panties, and pulls them down your thighs slowly with his mouth.

"I'm waiting." He mumbles, letting go of the panties and letting the waistband snap against your thighs. He spreads your legs apart as far as they can go with them bounded together by your expensive underwear. Then he's flicking his tongue across your clit, purposely teasing.

"Oh- oppa, fuck!" You throw your head back when he finally drags the flat of his tongue up your slick folds, giving it a few more slow licks.

"Wanted to taste you for so long-" The words stumble out his mouth quickly and he doesn't take his lips off you for a second.

Taehyung's focus shifts back to your clit, spurred on by your airy moans. Your fingers are itching to knot themselves in his hair again - you just want to pull him closer, grind your hips into him. It's too much and not enough at the same time.

"Oh my god, oh my..." Taehyung swallows and looks up at you with dark eyes, his cheeks and ears a light shade of red as he licked his lips. Your wetness was all over his chin and the corners of his mouth and you've seriously never seen a guy enjoy giving oral so much. For god's sake, he looked like he was about to ascend.

"It's wet." He moans. The words were so simple and obvious but the way he said it, god, you want it on repeat.

A big hand drifts up your thigh slowly as his mouth wraps around your clit again. While the hand on your thigh kneads the skin there gently, his other hand is inching between your legs. Nothing can prepare you for the feeling of two long fingers pressing into you.

"Ah, ah- wait-" The fingers slide in easily with how wet you are. It seems he hasn't forgotten where your sweet spot is if the way he curls his fingers directly into that bundle of nerves indicates anything.

"You like it, hm? It's just fingers but you're going crazy. It feel that good?" Taehyung growls, sucking on your sensitive bud lightly as he thrusted his fingers inside you, curling them each time and making you see stars.

"Answer me, jagiya." He says around your clit. If he kept this up you'd be coming embarrassingly fast.

"Mnnhh, I like it. I like- I like it a lot." You try your best to speak a coherent sentence but you end up cutting yourself off with your own stuttered moans.

"Tae, close. So close..." You try to warn him but he ignores you entirely. Instead, he continues sucking and opening you up with his fingers, even as your orgasm flows through your whole body, making you spasm a little.

"Mashisoyo," Taehyung says it quietly like he's talking to himself. He removes his two fingers from inside you and admires the way your cum seeps out of you. He prides himself on his work but he wasn't near close to being done.

"Wait- wait, what're..." You barely get a second to calm down before Taehyungs mouth is back on you. He spreads your thighs apart farther using both hands and swipes his tongue up your folds, collecting every drop of your cum on his tongue and swallowing it down with a satisfied 'mmm'.

"Fuck sake, are you real? How can you taste so good?" He sighs against you before pressing his tongue inside your hole. You writhe under him, sensitive and overstimulated.

"Hard. So hard right now. I need it inside you." Taehyung sits up and when your vision unblurs, you can clearly see the way his cock strains against his designer boxers.

Designer boxers?

"Let me?" At this moment, you can't help thinking that Taehyung looks cute here. He's sitting up, rutting helplessly against his hand. Rosy cheeks, parted lips, and an aching cock. An aching cock he needed you to fix.

"Of course." As soon as the confirmation exits your mouth, he's freeing himself from his boxers and sliding the restricting material down his thighs. He tosses the underwear somewhere in the car. He'd deal with it later.

"Woah, I forgot... how big you were..." Suddenly recollections from your last sexual encounter with the idol flood your memory. The way the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, the way it hurt but it felt so good. The same fear that he wouldn't fit still grazed your skin as last time but you weren't any less determined to take him. Lord knows you needed him just as much as he needed you right now.

"Ah, don't say a thing like that... embarrassing." He tries to turn away to hide his embarrassment but you can see the smile curling on his lips. How was it possible for a guy with a dick this big to be so humble? It was insane.

"I'll insert now." He says, slotting his hips between yours.

"Insert?" You repeat, confused. You've never heard someone use the term 'insert' while having sex.

"Did I say it right? It means put in, you know?" You really can't help laughing at that. That laugh quickly turns into a groan of pleasure when you feel the thick head of his cock press against your folds, threatening to split you open.

"Fuck, it's hot." Taehyung has to stop himself before he can fully get his tip inside because the last time he had sex was a month and a half ago and holy shit, he might actually cum prematurely.

"You-you're stretching me open, oppa." Hearing you call him 'oppa' seems to awaken something inside him. You bite your lip hard in an attempt to suppress your whimpers as he gradually slides in deeper.

"Ahh, it's hugging me." Taehyung closes his eyes tightly as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. Somehow, being so deep inside you made him feel at home.

Slowly, very slowly, he starts building a rhythm, grinding into you with careful and precise thrusts. You're not completely sure if he's moving gently for you or himself but you're very grateful.

You part your lips slightly to let out a moan as Taehyung's cock drags along your walls. Before you can properly let a sound out, he's pressing his lips against yours again. Unlike before, he's immediately licking into your mouth, almost as if he can't get enough of you, like he needs to taste you to survive.

"Perfect. Perfect for me. Perfect and tight just for me." As you both adjust to the beautifully familiar feeling of each other, he starts to move faster. He pulls away from your lips and presses them back against your neck. For some reason, getting fucked in Taehyung's expensive car was ten times as luxurious as any other one night stands you've ever had.

"Tae, it feels-" You never considered you to be extremely vocal in bed but somehow this man managed to drag every sound, every moan from the back of your throat like it was nothing.

"Feel good? I feel good." He groans against your neck. He's been holding back this whole time but the longer he's inside you, the harder it gets to control himself.

"You don't- fuck, I'm not made of glass, you can go harder." You slip your hands under his shirt and glide them over the expanse of his back. His skin was a bit damp from how hot the car had gotten.

"Really?" You feel him smirk against your neck before his lips brush over the shell of your ear.

"So, more? I don't know, little girl, what if I break you?" He enunciates the word 'break' with a particularly rough thrust that has you seeing literal stars. That along with the way he's whispering and lightly biting your ear has you shivering under him with need. You need more.

"Mm- ah, break me! I don't care." You whine loudly. At first, you were happy he was letting you adjust but right now you needed his thick cock fucking you into these leather seats.

His objective seems to change after that. Instead of teasing you relentlessly, his hips start moving at an ungodly rate, the head of cock nudging at your cervix as if it was trying to get its attention. It was a dangerous feeling and you know what could happen if you got injured up there, but it felt so good. The way he filled you up so perfectly, rubbing against that bundle of nerves even when he pulled out just to thrust back in was just too addicting.

He growls something in Korean and if you could use half of your brainpower right now, you'd try and figure out what but you could literally feel Taehyung in your guts and it's hard to focus on anything else.

"Naekkeo..." His breathing gets heavier and his thrusts are starting to get sloppier. You barely notice, though, with your second orgasm already rearing around the corner.

"Who does this belong to, hm?" He says between breaths. The sound of skin slapping skin was so loud in the car and you wonder if the vehicle was shaking with how hard Taehyung was pounding into you. There's no way it wasn't.

"Who does this fucking pussy belong to?" He reiterates and the clear dominance behind his words has you keening. You wonder if you could cum just from him speaking to you like that.

"Y- ya- you! Belong- belongs to- you!" You clench hard around him when you feel your orgasm ripple through you in waves, one after the other till your head was thrown back and you were calling out Taehyung's name like a mantra.

"Tight, nnha, it's fucking... tight..." Taehyung's restraint was quickly deteriorating and before he can even form a cognitive thought he's coming inside you. His hips buck wantonly as you practically milk him dry with how hard you're clenching around him. The feeling of his warm cum pumping inside you nearly makes your eyes roll back. You truly missed that feeling.

"I shouldn't have- ah, I came inside..." Taehyung raises his eyebrows in a shocked, worried expression and slaps a hand over his mouth. It takes you a moment to come back to reality but when you do, the first thing you see is an anxious Taehyung. It makes your blood run cold.

"What happened? Was it bad?" You sit up, your initial reaction being to comfort him. He pulls out carefully and you feel his cum oozing out of you, seeping onto the fancy leather seats. Oh.

Oops.

"No, no. So good. But this could be bad." He gives a nervous chuckle and looks down where you're practically leaking. You bite your lip at the sight. It was kinda hot.

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean, so don't worry." You giggle at your forward-thinking. After the promise of a second time with Taehyung, there was no way you were letting him pull out again. You had a bit of a breeding kink but there was no way you were getting pregnant. Thank god for birth control

"Pill? What pill?" He tilts his head, clearly confused but his lips turn up in a smile after seeing you giggle.

"Birth control. It prevents pregnancies." You explain it simply. He makes a sound of understanding and nods before throwing his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. Now it's your turn to be confused.

"Let's hug like this for a while then I take you back to the hotel. Couple minutes away." His arms are wrapped around your waist and he's pressing his nose against your neck, just breathing you in.

"I thought you said it was too far of a drive." A smirk graces your features.

"I just couldn't wait."

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[© seokiie]

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

[nice-kill-tanaka]

🌄Kyoya + Rival Fiance🌌

Summary: Had you two not been paired off since you were young, your intellectual spats would have been much more...uncouth...to say the least. But, being maritally connected might be the needed push for you to realize your collective potential.

A/N: Outlet for needless unresolved sexual tension™️?? Yes please!

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👓Kyoya Ootori👓

You met Kyoya when you both were around twelve years old

Your respective fathers had reached a long-lasting stalemate in their efforts to merge their companies in a way that was satisfying to both sides. And this was a last ditch effort to successfully complete the deal crucial to your father’s company in particular

Your parents were reluctant, as you were their only child. But, cautiously decided to go through with it after you gave your (albeit, slightly uninformed) consent

It was a dinner for yours and the Ootori families alone. One to finalize the deal. One to introduce the young future “lovers”

You sat across the table from one another, exchanging glances of matching intensity and analytical intent

You knew next to nothing about the quiet boy in front of you. But, you did know that he, just like you, were used to being the smartest person in the room. And, if not the smartest, the most observant

Your first words at that dinner never went beyond greetings and farewells. Very suffocatingly cordial for what was supposed to be two young and bright kids brought together for what their parents described as the “greater good”

Make no mistake, you both knew that this arrangement held more benefits than a successful business deal

But, something about your future husband made you want to intellectually step on his neck (Lovingly of course ❤️😚🔪). And it was the same sentiment vice versa

Up until you and Ootori (The name you insisted on using to address him) started attending the same school, neither of you could pinpoint why the competitive tension between you two was so strong

But, you and Ootori do figure it out eventually, through learning about each other’s pasts

I’ll put it like this:

Unlike Ootori, your gifts were never overshadowed by well-off or talented family members. Though praise wasn’t a frequent thing either. You were always subconsciously told to improve though. Through that, you were almost always the one on top. And you knew it. You liked it there, sure, but you were never complacent. You wouldn’t be caught dead being surpassed because you didn’t bother to try

You were the monarch, and you stayed that way through working, soaring to higher levels than your adversaries could ever imagine

Kyoya, being the eclipsed moon to virtually everyone’s sun, had to learn how to flourish in the background. He knew that a lot of the time, he was the most capable person in the room, but other people didn’t recognize that. So, he had to make his mark through craftier methods

He was the one with his sights set on your throne. The only one able to conquer it. And you knew that

In summary your relationship is a constant back and forth between Kyoya using his silent cunning to surpass you, and you reclaiming your place with pure drive and spite. You were the one he wanted to overthrow, and he was the assassin you wanted to outsmart

“Hm, I wouldn’t have expected the fleeting top student to score so far below me. I suppose this is part of another big plan, Ootori?”

“Well, L/N, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that the class average is unusually higher than normal. You’ll have to work a little harder next time to maintain your far lead won’t you?”

Or:

“That’s the third time you’ve eaten lunch with the Tsuin sisters this week L/N. I didn’t know you were looking for new friends.”

“Networking is never a bad thing Ootori. I got their parents’ company to invest in our fathers’ partnership in less than a week. But sure, call it ‘looking for new friends’.“

Something like that 😂

The thought of becoming personally involved outside of social performances never left your minds. But, the lack of cooperation between you deemed the option unnecessary

You and Kyoya were still strictly rivals when you both met Tamaki Suoh

You, for one, never quite understood Tamaki and his motives. Especially when he proposed an idea he had for what he called a “host club”

When Tamaki spoke to you individually, he suggested that you become the club’s manager, since you politely declined becoming part of the act

The second time you spoke with Tamaki, it was with Kyoya, and you quickly realized what was going on

Though, you weren’t sure what made Tamaki think you and Kyoya would make a good team. You knew the potential was there, but pride was another big hurdle to clear

But, through a bit of convincing (and Tamaki’s puppy dog eyes), you and Kyoya agreed to partner up in running the technical business aspects of the host club. Kyoya as the vice president, you as the manager

Things were a little rocky for the first week or so of business. Both you and Kyoya had the same end goals in mind, but the friction was in how to go about it

Your approaches were more straightforward. Practicality and efficiency were what mattered to you. Sure, you didn’t mind playing the long game. But, if you didn’t have to, you wouldn’t

Kyoya’s approaches were intricate and methodical, designed for the sake of the long game. He was willing to wait for everything to fall into place, even if it wasn’t the best for the short term

But, since you knew Tamaki wouldn’t be much help to your dilemma, you and Kyoya had your first genuine conversation

“We do get things done eventually. But, only after a disagreement on our approach.”

“I suppose you’re right, L/N. Functioning the way we are now would only hurt us long-term.”

“So, is that an agreement to collaborate?”

“Of course. Besides, if we’re to be married one day, working as one unit is something we’ll need to learn.”

Kyoya gave you a cunning, yet teasing smile as he walked away. The club, undoubtably hearing what he said to you

You raised an eyebrow and gave a dumbfounded glance at your rival, who you just let stalk away without hearing your reply

This was the first time either of you verbally acknowledged your arranged marriage. Or, at least, met it with something other than dismissal and a nasty look towards the other person

Your ears and the skin between your eyes burned with heat, though you were sure it was only from Kyoya exposing your arrangement to the entire club. You had never felt so flustered by him, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to welcome the feeling yet

Kyoya on the other hand, wondered why he said what he did. It was something that slipped out in an attempt to make you all hot and bothered with no chance to reply. A small victory for him. But, what did he actually think of marrying you?

...Well, to be honest, he kind of liked it

Being able to marry someone on his intellectual level meant things would never be boring. Especially with you being so self aware

Besides, two minds for business meant neither of you needed to inherit something to be successful. You two could build your own economic empire from the ground up and still have time for vacationing on the weekends

((Ignoring the fact that Kyoya also finds you physically attractive. So, you guys would legit be the prettiest couple in Ouran))

From then on, your relationship became like a shiver of sharks. Dangerous individually, but when you see them together?

Pick a god and pray.

With your combined cunning and observational skills, no one can pull a fast one on the host club

Your little jabs at each other slowly became more playful, leaving the other with a burning face and a ghost of a smile

Even Honey-Senpai began religiously shipping the two of you

“Kyo-chan, Y/N-chan, can I be the ring bearer at your wedding?”

To which you both stare down at the cheeky little boy, then back at each other, aware of what he was doing. You smirk with endearment, and speak first:

“Well, that’s a big responsibility, Honey-Senpai. You think you can handle it?”

“You can’t get any cake on your suit, remember?”

Honey-Senpai faltered immediately at Kyoya’s last statement

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[🌌Take this for your travels, bud. Don’t worry about paying me or anything, everything’s on the house! Though 🍁likes🍁 and ☘️reblogs☘️ are appreciated!🌄] — Reagan

[nekropsii]

Which character arc in sovereignstuck you worked on/wrote are you most proud of? Which of the other writers arcs are you most excited for ??

Oh, god. This is such a hard question. Some of this shit gets positively thespian. Going to try to avoid overt spoilers as best as I can.

Content Warning: Long.

As far as myself goes… Kankri’s growth has given many issues. He’s not that difficult to write, per se, and it’s not like writing him isn’t fun. He’s just hard to get a good angle with. Character arcs have an angle. There’s no improvement without there being some kind of focus to that arc of improvement. If something is to be fixed, you need to know what there is to fix, and how. What’s the root of the issue, and how do you address it without unintentionally making it worse?

It took fucking ages to find a good angle with Kankri, and when we did find it, it was through an offhand joke. Emotional attachment skyrocketed with it, though, and I personally find it to be a highly satisfying arc. I’m definitely proud of my other work with character arcs, but Kankri’s is the first one to come to mind, and it’s absolutely the most dramatic change I’ve written. As I said earlier, though, it’s genuinely hard to pick a favorite.

As far as arcs from the other writers go…

Emeric’s character arc is genuinely fascinating to me. I’m so fucking excited to see it written out fully. Emeric is such a fascinating character, and it’s really, really satisfying seeing a Bard not get defaulted to a villain role. She’s incredibly complex, and incredibly fun to watch. She’s one of those characters where you think she’d get shafted as pure comic relief, but she’s so much more than that, and I love her. Her battle with herself is one of those that those who have felt neglect can really relate to. Her struggle is a brutal one. Every moment she’s alive, she’s fighting for something, and her efforts are felt. (@unexiled)

Tejuri’s arc is dramatic in ways we never thought it’d be. She starts as an awkward, nerdy, southern troll-Catholic girl with very little self confidence, and the way SVURB makes her confront and challenge herself really makes her blossom into a complete badass, weaponizing other people’s belief in her and her friends in an absolutely catastrophic way. She deserves every victory she gets, and I feel like her humble, clumsy beginnings as a character really help you feel like she’s someone you would have been best friends with in high school. She’s a character where you don’t realize how much you believe in her until you’re actively cheering for her, it’s amazing. She’s a true Rogue of Hope. (@scalematez)

Meenah’s growth as a character and as a person within Sovereignstuck is one that I hope invigorates others just as much as it does me. She’s someone who’s slowly come to realize just how much hurt she’s caused, but she’s so deep in her routines that being a good person is something she has to fight tooth and nail for. She fucks up constantly, but she really is trying, and it honestly hurts to see her fail. She’s battling with the fact that just because she’s trying to be better doesn’t mean people will forgive her for the past. She’s built to hurt people, and she knows she is, she truly believes so, but the blood on her hands is starting to sting. She’s done so much damage in the past, and yet seeing her hurt isn’t even satisfying. Improvement really is Sisyphean sometimes. (@octopeixes)

Kausat’s arc is quiet. At least at first. Most of those who are Voidbound don’t tend to have a very loud, dramatic arc. But you don’t need to be flashy to be interesting, do you? Their story is one of growing into who they are- watching how his arc ties into his status as both a Seer of Life and a Seer of Void is really interesting. Change is an inevitable force of nature. It’s what makes things a tangible concept. Sometimes change is unexpected- mysterious, unexplainable, intangible. Sometimes it’s slow, like the growth of a tree, the decomposition of a body, and sometimes it’s dramatic- lightning striking the tallest construct it can find, an explosion in a lake, so on and so forth. Life, and living, is about change, and acceptance of that change, even if you don’t understand it. It’s the only way to survive. It’s quite an intimate topic, honestly, but rather fun to pick apart. (@santostrife)