#if i tagged all of these i think i would die

[moviecritc]

strawberry shortcake ⋆ carlos sainz smau

pairing: carlos sainz x reader (fc: various from pinterest)

summary: everyone is surprised about the woman that carlos is dating, knowing how classy he is

warnings: some hate comments

a/n: i'm blonde and i'm planing to do pink highlights for this summer, so this seemed fun to do <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

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yourusername 9 to 5 🌶️

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yourbff stop being so cool you're making others seem lame

user1 is this carlos new gf?

user2 i think she is! they were seen together two weeks ago, he soft launched a dinner and now she's posting watching the race, so they probably are

alexandrasaintmleux ohh gorgeous 😍 liked by author

user3 girl you're like 27 what are you doing dying your hair pink

user4 nah some people are allergic to having personality

carlossainz55 🥰🌶️

user5 pls tell me that he's just being friendly user6 no bc what is he doing with a girl like that... she looks so messy user7 that's exactly what i was thinking! nothing against her, but she's not the type of woman for carlos

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user1 i'm sorry, but she's a no for me

user2 she works in fashion????

user3 ultimate cool girl frr

user4 ok i've stalked her and she is GORGEOUSSS, and effortlestly cool?? i would die for being half cool of her

user5 dying my hair pink rn

user6 i can't believe there's people saying that she's not enough for carlos?? girl, carlos is not enough for HER

user7 FRRR she is THAT GIRL, in capital letters and bold

user8 i've dig a little and i found a few things: she was born in ireland (irish queen, i can't imagine how cool is to hear her talk), studied marketing at trinity college and moved to london a few years ago, she was a month in madrid last march (probably when she met carlos)

user9 i mean cool, but please go touch some grass

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carlossainz55 So excited to race in Australia this weekend 🔜 🇦🇺

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yourusername 🤞🏻🔜

user1 SHE'S COMING TO A RACE? user2 honestly i would be embarrased to go to a gp with her

user4 carlos you have to update your taste in women bc wtf

user5 imagine calling yourself a carlos fan and hating on his gf who literally did nothing

user6 we're not hating, she's just vulgar, that's factual

user7 i can't believe people is making this post all about his relationship

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user1 her outfits are in another level

user2 Carlos couldn't stop touching her, he's DOWN BAD

user3 she looks so sweet, i don't understand the hate

user4 she's iconic, you guys are just boring people

yourusername just posted on her story!

[caption 1: gettin ready for the race 💋] [caption 2: thank you for this @scuderiaferrari]

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carlossainz55 c'mere i need my good luck kiss

carlossainz55 i mean you ARE the prettiest and i'm the luckiest

user1 ok you actually look nice

user2 first time i see one of the wags being grateful with the team

Carlos interview after quali

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f1 CARLOS SAINZ WINS IN AUSTRALIA 🤩

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user1 SMOOOTHHH 🌶🌶

user2 and this man doesn't have a seat?? be ffr

user3 ALL I SEE IS SAINZ, ALL I SEE IS CARLOS SAINZ 💅🏼

user4 and that podium>>>>>

user5 YESSS his gf was there and looked so so happy user6 omg i saw it!!

yourusername VAMOSS ❤️💛

user7 oh hi y/n user8 you speak spanish? user9 i love her. i don't care you guys don't, but she's da best

carlossainz55 just posted!

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carlossainz55 Unforgettable weekend ❤️💛

tagged; yourusername

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yourusername Beyond proud of you darling ❤️🥹 liked by author

carlossainz55 Te amo ❤️ user2 AAAAHH I LOVE EM user3 brb im taking a bath with a toaster

user1 so we're hard launching now?

user2 she's his lucky charms, 100% sure

user3 bro casually hard launches in his race win post

user4 carlos and y/n picture was a jumpscare. but like a good jumpscare, and not scary at all im actually in love with them

user5 looking for a third?

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yourusername Left the office to support this handsome fella 💞💞

tagged; carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 Te amo, hermosa. My lucky charm 🍀👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

yourusername Can't wait to the next one 😊😊 user2 I CAN'T THEY'RE TOO PRECIOUS user3 there's nothing better than private but not secret but also not too private relationships

user1 I thought i was early but carlos' already here

user4 and they've been dating for over a year, if i had to wait so much to post carlos sainz i would've died

user5 ugly as fuck liked by author

user6 not y/n liking it- user7 LMAO I ADORE HER

alexandrasaintmleux Coolest ❤️

yourusername i'm afraid that's you hun ❤️ user8 this is so cute ngl user9 wags that get along with each other >>>

user10 y/n, do you speak spanish?

yourusername Un poco, Carlos me está enseñando 🥰 (a little bit, Carlos is teaching me)

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elleuk He was the only non-Red Bull Racing race winner in last season in Formula 1, and the first one this year. And althought his place in F1 is still unknown, it is certain that Carlos Sainz has already left a legacy in the sport.

The April issue of ELLE UK is out March 28. Read the interview at the link in our bio.

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user1 Oh we all know who edited this pictures

user6 and he even changed the pfp to the first one, he's obsessed

carlossainz55 Thinking of pursuing a modeling career after this

yourusername You should. I'll edit your pics 🤝 user3 i'll tell my kids they were adam and eve

user2 the pictures are fabulous

user7 we all say together: thanks y/n

user4 WE'RE BEING FED WITH THIS PICTURES

user5 why is anybody talking about the interview?? he's the CUTEST talking about her

user8 YESS, i read it and i died of sweetness user9 they're so wholesome i love them

[ladyymiisa]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!

summary: your loving boyfriend who spoils you rotten!

tags: hawks x fem!reader, barista!reader, fem pronouns used for reader, fluff

author’s note: hi sexies!!! i literally can’t stop thinking about hawks spoiling his gf god i want him so bad

it’s no secret that hawks is rich. being a hero has not only given him popularity but also a paycheque that would make anyone’s eyes pop out if they saw the numbers on it. like, this man’s credit card is black. that’s how rich he is. and you’d think he’d try to display it, right? maybe by driving a really expensive car, like a ferrari or something, or by only wearing designer clothes.

haha, wrong.

for as wealthy as he is, hawks rarely spoils himself. perhaps he feels selfish to have all of this, despite how hard he’s worked for it. he tells himself that it’s because he’s too busy to actually relish in everything that he owns, that he has more important matters to focus on, but a part of him knows that they’re just excuses to make up for how hung up he is on the past.

the past of his criminal, alcoholic father and emotionally distant mother, the past of his abuse and how neglected he was. because of it, he can’t bring himself to actually enjoy the things others would kill for.

at least until he meets you.

he meets you and suddenly he finds a new purpose for his money, other than keeping it in his bank account to collect dust.

to spoil you, of course!

to me, hawks is more of a giver rather than a receiver and i will die on this hill. he loves to pamper you, shower you in the most expensive gifts known to man and take you on the fanciest dates. from designer shoes to jewellery that would cost you three years worth of rent, this man makes it his life mission to ensure that you only get the best of the best.

and at first, it all seems like too much. you’re just an ordinary civilian working as a barista, nothing special. you don’t consider yourself someone worthy of being hawks’ object of affection, but hawks, sorry, keigo makes sure to put a stop to those silly thoughts immediately. besides the expensive gifts, he also shows you daily just how much you mean to him, which is more precious than any pair of diamond earrings he could ever gift you.

for as busy as he is, keigo never leaves you hanging, no matter how busy he is.

showing up on your balcony late at night with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand if he isn’t able to visit you during your day shift, or washing the dishes for you if you’re too tired are some of the ways in which he shows his love.

and you grow greedy because of it. everything be damned, you slowly turn into a spoiled princess and it’s all his fault.

do you feel guilty about it? maybe just a little. but only because you no longer shy away from asking keigo to buy you stuff.

oh, look! a perfume you’ve been eyeing for a while just became available online? all you have to do is bat your eyelashes prettily at him and next thing you know you have a small package waiting by your doorstep the following day.

your favourite makeup brand dropped a new collection? surely he won’t mind if you get every product available.

hm? you’re still working at that coffee shop? well, not anymore! keigo can’t possibly have his pretty baby working herself to death when he’s right there to ensure that you’re living as comfortably as possible. after all, there’s no need for you to work! your rent is taken care of by him and his credit card is basically yours, so don’t worry your pretty head about such silly things! he’s got you covered.

but in the end, it’s not those gifts that make you fall asleep with a smile on your face at night. it’s his love that has your heart fluttering inside your chest whenever he gives you that boyish grin of his, it’s his love that leaves your cheeks feeling sore after he says such a horrible joke that you can’t help but laugh at. and keigo makes sure to shower you in his love every single day. he is a pretty generous man after all.

[chaniceroses]

Bad Boys Ride or Die (Armando x Reader): Part One

Another day... another morning. Time seems to be passing you by without allowing you to catch up and you feel as if your life is slowly running its course. It’s been about an hour since you have woken up but since the sun is always aligned with your window before work, that’s how you knew it was time to get up and get ready. The birds chirping, neighbors mowing their yard and arguing. A continuous cycle that you sometimes wish would end. You laid there in your soft, silky sheet until you heard a knock at your door. Getting up, putting on your cheetah print robe, you slipped on your house shoes and walked over to your door.

“Who is it?” You asked, holding on to the door knob.

“It’s us, who else would it be?”, a familiar voice answered with a slight chuckle.

You sighed while unlocking the door, opening it to see two black males standing there making eye-contact. They were the ones “training” you for the detective spot.

“What do you guys want? You know this can’t be an everyday routine, right?”You laughed walking away towards your open kitchen. 

“Make sure you shut my door and lock it, I don’t need anyone else barging in.” You continued leaning against your counter-table.

“Get used to it y/n. Since we are training you, and you are going to be with us all of the time…we might as well hang over each other's houses and be friends.”,Mike answered taking a seat

“Mike, we haven’t done any training”. She’s basically a tag-along.” Marcus replied looking through his phone.

“Tag-along? Please don’t get me started..”, you scoffed looking at Marcus and then at Mike.

You stared into Mike’s dark brown eyes, while examining his body features. Mike Lowery is his name, a tall light-skinned black male with a goatee mustache, smooth skin-texture, soft plump lips, ears that kind of sticks out with a tiny earring that brings out his face. 

“Imma guess that you like what you see.”Mike smiled, walking up towards you. He towered over you. It made you feel some kind of way but then again nothing at all. You turned to look at Marcus, to see him shaking his head into his hands. 

“Hmm…no.”, you laughed, patting him on his chest and then walking towards your bedroom. “Give me an hour and then we can head out.”

“Forty-five minutes since you just pulled that bullshit.”, Mike replied sitting down next to Marcus while he laughed .

“Two words for you…Married. Man.”, Marcus recalled pointing to the ring that was on his finger.

“You’re right.”

You could hear their conversation the whole time however, you didn’t pay attention because there were other things on your mind regarding your job. You know it isn’t time to choose just yet and to make a decision that could change your life and your relationship with your “partners”, however you also know that the sand is slowly slipping. 

Time had passed and you were heading out when you noticed your living room window was slightly opened, you stared at it for a moment then walked over to shut it and left. Before you knew it, you were in the backseat of Marcus’s and Mike’s car on the way to work. This was their way of getting to know you better, training you and “being generous”.  However, the ride to the precinct slowly had put you in a trance, reminding you of your last conversation between you and Captain Howard before he was murdered…

“Captain!!!” You yelled walking up towards him. “Anything for me to do, check up on, investigate ... .alone”, you whispered, moving your focus from him to Marcus and Mike. Conrad Howard was his name and he was the one who had partnered you with Marcus and Mike since he considered them to be“ experienced” in what they do.

“What are you talking about y/n?”he asked, raising one of his eyebrows while folding his arms.

“Heyyyyy! Captain… what do you think about-” before Mike could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by Howard putting his finger up to Mike.

“Did he just-”

“He did.”, Marcus sighed looking at Mike, you and then at Captain

“I was just wondering…if you had any files that needed to be looked at. Or maybe if I need to go somewhere and investigate…something.”, you pleaded.

“I have one file that needs to be-”

“No Cap that wouldn’t be necessary. We can go to the range and practice our shots and ride around to ensure that everyone is safe.”Mike interrupted, looking at you and Marcus.

“I actually have some files to look at myself, Mike.”, Marcus shrugged, walking off towards his desk.

You looked at Mike and watched as he looked at you, then at Captain and left.

“He’s a guy who loves action. He’ll be okay however, I want to talk to you though, Walk with me?”Howard suggested pointing towards the hallway.

“Sure what’s up?”, you asked, keeping up the pace that he was leading.

“I was wondering if you have decided what you wanted to do. With your position here. I know that you don’t need the training but you know it's “protocols”. It’s not me.”, he explained looking through the papers that he was carrying.

You were taking in what he was saying. You entered the portal about a month ago since you came from a different district, however the point still stands. Different opportunities have been thrown at you when it comes to your career and where you are right now, since you’ve been in the game for years. You would think it would be easier however now it has left you stuck. Leaving the precinct and becoming an international agent, stay and be a detective or retire and finally have a family with someone you love, decisions…decisions.

“I haven’t decided yet, so many options and personal things to think about.”, you replied, walking at the same rhythm as your boss.

“Listen…between you and I. Go with what you think is the worst.”, he replied, stopping in his tracks.

“Excuse me?” you replied confusingly tilting your head.

  “You wouldn’t be confused with what you wanted to do, if it was the best option. So go with what you are avoiding.”, he answered, looking up at you through his glasses.

“Not to take advice from you, noted.”, you thought, turning your focus towards the meeting that was happening down the hallway.

“Look, it may not make sense right now but later it will. Trust me.”, he reassured walking towards the room that a meeting was happening in.

“We’re a huge family here. Even if we hate each other’s guts. And with Mike and Marcus… They like you, and I can tell that they’ve somewhat gotten attached to you…which never happens. So ignore the things that are said especially with whatever comes out of Mike’s mouth.”, He continued pointing at you then walking into the meeting.

You watched as Captain walked into the meeting while waving the files that he was looking at earlier.

 “They like me.”, you mocked, while turning around. “They don’t even know me.” you laughed walking back towards your desk.

You must’ve gotten lost in your thoughts because when you looked forward. Marcus was turned around in his passenger seat looking right at you.

“I’m sorry?”, you asked, looking at Marcus to Mike and back at Marcus.

“What do you have planned today?”Marcus asked, looking at you with confusion across his face.

“Um, I have office work that I need to catch up on. I guess I can do that today.”, you replied, grabbing your phone from your purse.

“Office work?”Mike and Marcus replied in unison. Pure disgust crawled across their faces. You thought to yourself if you said something wrong, or maybe if it was your body expression. 

“You’re telling me that you don’t want to get in any action. Hurt people ... .fight!”Mike yelled, paying attention to the road while also taking quick glances at me through the rearview mirror.

“Mike, not everyone loves violence but y/n you should want to get some type of action..y’know. Office work. Really?”Marcus added, looking at the pedestrians going on about their day.

“I mean, if I can avoid it then yeah, I wouldn’t want to deal with it but of course sometimes it just comes my way.”, you replied scanning through downloads on your phone.

“See…I’m not the only person that attracts danger.”Mike laughed while looking at Marcus.

The rest of the ride was pretty chill besides Mike and Marcus arguing over past events with Mike dating Marcus' sister and operations that nearly blew up in their faces and their sex life. After what felt like forever,  you made it to the precinct and were instantly met by the loud voices of cops everywhere and a huge meeting happening down the hallway.

You, Marcus and Mike stared at each other confusingly, trying to figure out what was going on until a police officer came up to stop in front of you.

“They’ve been in there for hours, no one knows what’s going on.”, the cop said, staring at Marcus and Mike and then back down the hallway.

You stared at the people that were in there, making eye-contact with someone who was sitting at the head of the table.

“I’m sure it's nothing. I’m going to my desk.”, you replied, turning to Marcus and Mike and then leaving. You knew it wasn’t just “ nothing” because since Captain Howard was killed barely anyone has used that meeting room unless there was a hostage situation, or something between those lines. However, there were people from different districts in there and paper was scattered everywhere. Everyone seemed obnoxious and worried.

After a couple twists and turns down the hallway, you made it to your desk and flopped down onto your seat to be greeted by paperwork that needed to be looked through.

“What is all this?”, you whispered, opening one of the files and looking through them.

Before you knew it, all you saw was a stack of papers flying across your face onto the table. You looked up in shock to see Mike standing there with a smile across his face.

“You said you wanted files so there you go.”Mike laughed standing behind you.

“What do you want Mike? Because I am not about to look through all of those files, I'd rather be around Marcus all day and listen to him complain about his sex-life.”, you replied sitting down at your desk.

“That’s not what you said earlier.” Mike replied.

“How do you even know that? Mike, you've been telling y/n about my sex life?”, Marcus snapped getting up from his desk.

“Hell no. I-”

“I was in the back of the car. Earlier… when you guys picked me up after coming to my house which has been everyday for the last month.” you interrupted straightening up the files.

“Oh.” Marcus replied, covering his mouth. “I mean that shouldn’t even be a problem, Mike and I go over each other’s places all of the time.” he continued looking at Mike and then back at you.

“Hold up, how did you guys even know where I lived?” you asked leaning back into your chair while making direct eye-contact with them.

You watched as Mike leaned against your desk, gave Marcus a “really” look and then back at you.

“You’re smarter than that so we’re going to pretend you didn’t just ask that question…okay sweetie.”, he replied in disappointment while looking at you.

“That was a blonde moment.”, you thought to yourself. “Well guys thank you for bringing me here but I have work to do.”, you continued pushing Mike’s files to the side.

“I guess I'll grab these and put them back on my desk then.”, he stated grabbing them and putting them on top of his table.

Marcus and Mike caught the social cues that you were giving them and started analyzing the paperwork that was on their desk. They were cool people to be around. Fun and wild but also annoying and extremely obnoxious. They made you nervous due to not being able to know their next move. You scanned across the room and watched how every single person lived their lives. Some looked completely stressed, others looked as if they hadn't slept in months and the rest seemed to be taking each day slowly.

You brought your eyes towards Mike to see him typing things into his computer. You watched how his veins showed through his hands and the way his shirt compressed onto his body. You turned to look at Marcus with his eyes already piercing into yours. He was staring the whole time.

“What?”, you asked looking back at him. You watched as he shrugged you off and went back to work.

The rest of the morning was filled with everyone trying to figure out what the meeting is about, and flashbacks of your last conversation with Captain Howard. You’ve only been in Miami for a couple months now after leaving from a different precinct, and very little has occurred. This will be a long year.

[lolitasangel]

Noah Angst- The Break up pt2

Break Up pt1

Break Up pt3

Please enjoy 🫶🏼

TW- mentions of yelling, shouting

Tag list-🫶🏼

@yarasdead

————————————————

6 months, half a year without him, you dont even want to say his name, yes it was 6 months ago, but when you were so sure, so sure that it would last. We were together for ——,

—-

After the 6th month came and went coming on 7 you started to feel better. Not faking any smiles, not forcing any laughs, not need to escape to the bathroom to let out a few tears.

You started to become comfortable again, not blaming yourself for what happened. Even though you know it wasn’t your fault, and you understood, of course it still hurt, and it still does.

Some of your friends got very worried, they noticed you would fidget when asked about Noah, they would catch on to how you changed the subject as soon as you answered a question even regarding Noah. But they never pushed it.. well until they noticed you pushing them away.

Y/F/N “I’m sick of it!” You and your friends were hanging out at your place, having a girls night. You invited them over when you felt comfortable being around people and letting people back inside, not just inside of your house, but in your heart. You realized your friends didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. Of course it wasn’t intentional, none of it was.

But, sometimes with heartbreak you do things you don’t mean, snap at people, yell, suddenly start crying the middle of supermarket when you realized you couldn’t call Noah to talk about how your cat spilt his catnip everywhere and had the time of his life while you were panicking thinking he was gonna die and you couldn’t find what medicine the vet was recommending (you aren’t to fond of that memory)

So you decided to invite your friends over. It was a good night until they brought it up.

Y/F/N “something has been wrong and it’s bugging us, you haven’t talked to us at all, I know something’s off, I just know it”

You tried playing it off cool, shaking your head faking confusion “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Your friends sighed shaking their heads, giving you a look.

“We know something happened with Noah” your friend to left of the table said quietly, you pretend to be confused again praying to any god out their that they would get the memo, to zip it, shut it, anything, just not talk about it. “I’m confused”

Frustrated your friend stands up, and starts listing everything off on you

“You’re pictures,” walking into the living room pointing at every wall, shelf, and nightstand “not a single fucking picture of Noah.” You and the other girls shocked followed her.

She continued walking down the hall pointing at the walls “here, not a single picture either, Y/N”

Continuing down the hall even further down she made her way into your bedroom opening the door and barging in like no tomorrow.

She pointed everywhere in the room.

“Your dresser, not a picture.”

“Your desk, not a picture either.”

“Your make up vanity, not a picture”

“Fuck it let’s look at your closet, and your dresser”

Opening the closet, “oh funny! Where are his clothes?”

Walking over across the room towards the dresser.

Reaching out to her to try and stop her.

But you stopped, you knew once all three of them started, there was no ending

“Oh would you look at that! Gone!”

She yelled pointing at the dresser

“Gone!” She yelled pointing at the closet

“Gone!” She yelled again pointing at the walls

“Your stand next to your BED, where you SLEEP, and THINK, AND DREAM OF NOAH, IS NOT HERE!”

“What about your book shelf?” She asked rhetorically, she shrugged her shoulders “let’s check there, since we are pulling all the stops might as well look here too”

Looking around the shelf, whipping her head around “not a damn photo album of you and him insight.”

Shocked by the shouting, and not expecting her to blow up, you started to tear up.

It wasn’t because she was yelling, it was because she noticed, she picked up on everything that you were doing, or did, or thought about. She picked it up like a broken glass on the floor, shattered, no glue, time, money, person or thing could put it back together, like a missing puzzle piece from a puzzle that was almost finished, gone.

Y/F/N took a deep breath.

“Everytime we ask about him, you change the subject, everytime we mention him you fidget, everytime we even think about mentioning him, or acknowledging him, you immediately shut down. Now I know something happened, I know it did, and I know for a fact that you’re beating yourself up over it. But as your best friend I’d rather dance with the devil and make a deal then let you throw your damn life away for a man who didn’t want to give the slightest will to try and make it work. Am I right?”

You weren’t listening anymore, you were somewhere else, not sure where, but you wouldn’t help but think of him, why didn’t he want to try, why couldn’t have you have gone with him for a bit, see him every once in a while.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, or make you cry, or angry, but I am telling you that he is gone, he’s not coming back, you already locked him away, I’m telling you this so realize that there are more people out there, and that we are worried about you.”

All you felt was the same pain you felt when he broke those words to you,

“we can still be friends”

How could you guys have been friends? How could that have worked?

Were you suppose to pretend like nothing ever happened?

Like he didn’t rip your world apart, limb for limb?

Like he didn’t promise you the world, and that you would always be his girl?

Like you didn’t imagine a wedding, potential kids, a bright future together?

Like you didn’t imagine him teaching the kids how to play guitar, the piano, all that shit?

How?

How could we pretend like….how?

You were slowly brought back when you realized tears were streaming down your face, looking up at the girls you finally cracked.

Bursting into tears, falling to the floor sobbing in the arms of your friends

“I don’t know what I did wrong, why couldn’t we have made it work, he promised me, he promised me!”

Your friends pulled you close, holding you tightly but gently.

Yes, they were aware you are a strong girl and you could hold your own but sometimes, you can’t get help by yourself, sometimes you have to reach out, before it’s too late, and you’ve already pushed everyone away.

It’s not too late though, and you realize that, it’s not the end of the world, of course it hurts, it will always hurt, but I can learn to be strong.

The girls around her agreed, one friend pulling you up to look at her “we didn’t want you to be upset, and Y/F/N should have come off that harsh, but, we are worried Y/N. 6 months, 6 months of you that we never met, we knew your smiles were fake, we knew the laughs you let out were forced, we knew that you only would hang with us so we wouldn’t get suspicious of what possibly happened. We were scared, it was like this brand new person in front of us, and then suddenly you wanted to hang out, we are worried about you. We love Y/N, we are here for you, but, you gotta let us in. We know that you guys broke up, we don’t know why but…we wanna be there for you…please let us back in…”

———if you’re crying now I’m so sorry, babe———

After calming down a bit, the girls stood you up walking you over to the bathroom, “take a long shower babe, you’ll be okay, we’re gonna be in the living room waiting for you, we will listen”

Giving them a tilted nod up, you made your way to the shower.

Your girls were always there, the four of you against the world, even when there were fights, anytime anyone felt off all you girls would move on, talk about it later, and help each other out.

After you got out the shower, you changed into some sweatpants, and a hoodie

You made your way downstairs where you heard the girls talking.

Hearing you come down the girls got up and walked to you.

Pulling you close into a hug, holding each other tight like if they didn’t, someone would rip one of you away from one another. They softly called your name

“Y/N?” Not having the courage to look up, too ashamed of what you’ve become these last few months. You didn’t even recognize your self anymore.

You thought you had moved on after 7 months but, when you’re always reminded that you aren’t with someone you love anymore is the worst pain.

Agony, anger, lust, pain, happiness, euphoria, dreams, songs, memories, tears, smiles

Everything

Everything reminds you of him

You shared all of those things with him, just for it washed away, like at the beach

Watching the the shore with him during the second date

Getting the courage to ask if he could kiss you

The same beach where he said

“I love you.”

Washed away, never to be seen again

Drowning deep into the sea,

What was saltier though?

The sea? Or the tears that streamed down your face when you tried not to break on your way back to your car

The same beach where he said

“We have to break up”

The same beach where you told me you wanted to make it official

The same beach that you pictured a possible wedding

Why

Why

GODDAMN IT WHY

You felt like you were drowning

You had to be, the muffled sounds, they remind you of when you and Noah would play in the water

He held you in his arms and floated you guys up and watching the stars in the middle of the summer night

Why did you take him from her?

Why God?

The darker it got and the more muffled it sounded

You felt your self being layed down the on the couch

Slowly coming back to your senses, looking around seeing your friends worried face.

Looking away quickly, feeling shame

You didn’t want this to happen, not this, you wanted to deal with this alone and forget it.

Just forget it.

Forget it.

Forget.

It.

Before you could feel yourself being pulled closer and closer down by the minute again.

Y/F/N held your head up for you, too ashamed to look your, what might as well be sisters, in the eyes of the people you loved, who you hurt, not intentionally of course, no you would never, but the sad truth, from what we have learned is, sometimes you hurt the people you love, and the people you love hurt you.

“You’re gonna be okay, you got us along this journey.”

Smiling and giggling from the goofy face your friend made at you, you realized yea, it will be okay.

You’ll be okay.

———————

Hi everyone, I’m glad to see everyone this enjoying this story so far, it was just a thought I had a work and kind of wanted to see if I could write something from it, I guess?

Uh, but I hope you all enjoyed

I enjoyed writing it, your kind words towards and about my stories, thoughts, etc mean a lot to me and keep me having the courage to write

Thank you, have a good morning/evening/night

-LP

[lostmagic]

no ok the more I’m reading through the hotd tag the more pissed off I’m getting bc what do you mean the blood and cheese scene was underwhelming???????? I understand that it was extremely different from the source material and that people had high expectations for the screen adaptation, but the way most of y’all are complaining about it has me sick to be honest.

The main complaint I’m seeing (and willing to argue against bc there are some other gripes that I refuse to entertain) is that it was “less impactful” and that it “doesn’t do Helaena’s character justice”. I’m seeing people say that the horror of the situation was lost without Helaena’s pleading and offering herself in their place to save her children, and that her descent into madness will make less sense now without her Sophie’s Choice backfiring on her and being forced to live with the guilt of sentencing one son to die only for the other to be killed instead. I think this response of pleading and begging and offering oneself in place of a loved one (especially a child) is easy to understand and I believe we all would like to think that it would be our response in an unimaginable situation such as the one Helaena is faced with, but when it comes down to the actual trauma response, no one knows until they’re in it.

Some background on trauma responses: when faced with trauma, a person’s response tends to fall into one of four categories. Most people associate the term with the more commonly known responses of fight or flight, but the other two lesser known responses are freeze or fawn. Freeze is rather self explanatory with the person essentially going into shock and failing to react at all. Fawn is probably the least commonly known response with the person essentially resorting to people pleasing and appeasing in order to avoid further harm.

Where book!Helaena’s response was fight, show!Helaena’s response was fawn (and arguably freeze with what appeared to be disassociation). That doesn’t make her wrong or a bad mother as some of you are suggesting. She was experiencing an extremely traumatic event with a knife to her throat and two sleeping children only feet away from her with her only options being to surrender her son or risk losing them both as well as her own life. Trauma responses aren’t something we control, and blaming her for hers is greatly misunderstanding the nuance of it all. Showing that there ARE multiple ways to respond in traumatic situations made sense with this version of Helaena’s character with all of her other reactions we have seen throughout the show so far.

I get that people are also mad that Alicent wasn’t there for the situation and especially that she was instead fucking Cole, but I honestly think that that is a different horror of its own. Book!Alicent shared in Helaena’s trauma of being forced to choose between her children and is helpless, but show!Alicent doesn’t even know that there is danger. She doesn’t know that their security was breeched (partially due to the fact that she is fucking the HEAD of security at the moment) and she doesn’t know that her daughter has just had to make the impossible decision to surrender her son to save her daughter, knowing that her daughter is “of lesser value” and that SHE will be blamed for the heir to the throne being assassinated in front of her while she was powerless to stop it. Alicent will feel the guilt of not knowing that her daughter needed help and she will feel the guilt that while it was happening she was “sinning against the gods” with a man she knows she shouldn’t be. Holier than thou Alicent was caught in the worst possible way and I doubt she will forgive herself.

I can understand being annoyed when an adaptation strays from the source material, but being upset that this particular event was “watered down” or “sanitized for television” has me questioning why you wanted to see a pure translation of the scene in the first place. The shows have diverted from the books for better and for worse in the past and while I understand and agree with book purists on some storylines or scenes being changed, this is one I firmly believe was justified.

[clandestinedmeetings]

Hi dear! You could do an Enemies to lovers fic but it ends in a fluff? Like Leon is a bully who makes fun of Reader but then starts to get to know them better until he falls in love with them? I'm just giving an idea, I hope you're well and have a nice day, thanks for reading!!<33

First of all, thank you SO much for submitting a request!!! This was impossibly fun to write; I got so carried away, haha

They aren't in love by the end per se, but they're definitely lookin at each other like 👀🧐🫣

Hope you like it!!! 💕

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Synopsis: Leon and Reader have hated each other ever since they were placed under Krauser's command. Their bitter rivalry comes to a head after one particularly disappointing spar.

Tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, AFAB reader, no use of y/n, STRATCOM Leon Kennedy, canon typical violence, they curse but that's as bad as it gets, mentions of guns, mentions of knives

WC: 4,692

Read it on Ao3!

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

As the back of your head collides with the ground and the familiar metallic taste of blood floods your mouth, you come to three unoriginal conclusions.

The first is that you have a weak left hook. You’ve been working on it—almost to the point of exhaustion, really—but it still lacks weight and ferocity. The latter, thankfully, comes to you rather naturally. Or so it has as of late.

The second concerns your poor tongue. You’d taken quite the bite out of it on impact and based on sharp, pulsing pain radiating across it, you aren’t confident you’ll be able to speak later this afternoon. Medics had recommended shaving down your canines in the past for this precise reason but you aren’t above showing a little teeth when necessary. Maybe you should start wearing that mouthguard they’d offered as Plan B, though. This isn’t the first time this has happened.

The third—and this one had first come to you long ago (but that doesn’t lessen the intensity of your conviction)—is that you truly, madly, deeply wish Leon Kennedy would just fucking die already. 

You’ve dreamt of it being by your hand on a few occasions. You use the memory of his scarlet blood trickling down your fingers that one time you’d scratched him mid-spar, and the imagined feel of his esophagus collapsing underneath the weight of your grip as prime motivators at the gym. Petulant? Maybe. Deranged, and likely to get you kicked out of STRATCOM? Certainly. But that would only happen if you ever voiced your desires, or acted on them. You aren’t stupid enough to do either. However, if you’re being entirely truthful, you grow less fearful of the consequences every time Krauser pairs the two of you to spar which, to your chagrin, is often now. 

Very often.

So often that that the scent of Leon’s cologne—why does he wear cologne to training?— had already threaded itself into the fabric of your being. So often that you feel his phantom hands grappling your biceps when you admire the bruises he’s left before you shower. So often that you now associate the dull jab of a practice knife with the weight of his body on yours and the iciness of his blue eyes.

You wish he would fucking die so you could stop thinking about him all the time.

It’s honestly a surprise you’re able to think at all with the way your head slammed into the dirt floor of the training grounds. Stars flit across your vision; you can’t totally make out whether you’re face up or down. You scramble to assess damage —nothing major, clearly. It only takes you a second to orient yourself but you’re too stunned to properly struggle beneath the crushing weight of Leon’s forearm at your throat. 

You writhe and squirm to no avail. His impossibly strong legs cage in your hips, kneecaps digging deeply into the sides of your thighs. You’ll have bruises there, too. You hear whispers ripple around the circle of observers. Colleagues, fellow troops. Whatever. There’s a blatant gap in skill level and precision between you and them, so who cares what they’re called anyway. The only person who matters is on top of you, and viciously crushing your throat.

You and Leon are tied as top contenders in Krauser’s cohort, head and shoulders above the rest in both resilience and unbridled spite. There are, of course, a few minor disparities in your respective arsenals: you fail where Leon excels in brute strength and endurance; he fails where you excel in precision, accuracy, and agility. You’re both tactical. You’re both observant. You’re both hideously and obnoxiously stubborn. Which makes for a good show, you guess, and explains why betting pools were established quickly after your first sparring match a month into training. 

As your competition to the top became more evident, and when your rivalry became more prominent, the betting pool expanded to encompass more than one course. You’re proud to say that you have more support when it comes to firearms and strategizing—you’re an impressive shot, even Leon can’t deny that. But Leon, with his gilded hair and boyish charm, usually wins the popular vote for most other tasks.

God, you fucking hate him.

You suspect he hates you, too. Why else would he be grinning so smugly right now?

Blood is rushing to your head. You’re finding it increasingly challenging to breathe. You need to get out of this, fast, or it’ll be another win under his belt. You briefly consider sinking your teeth into his forearm—no, too childish. You think about spitting a glob of blood into his crystalline eyes—too dirty. But then you see a glint of victory in his eyes and feel the pressure caused by his knees digging into the sides of your thighs preemptively weaken, and a catlike grin spreads across your face.

He falters for a second and that’s more than enough.

You buck your hips up into his to spread his legs apart further, and create an opening large enough for you to curl your legs inward. The soles of your feet flatten against his torso. You chuckle when you realize he isn’t flexing. Good, you think, this should fucking hurt then. With all the strength you can muster, you kick him off of you. The force of the assault disorients him and elicits a violent spasm within his diaphragm.

The dusty scent of sand and desert heat stings your nostrils as you roll onto your knees. You retch and cough and scramble to regain your composure, the sudden intake of oxygen leaving you dizzy with relief. You stumble onto your knees. The room’s spinning. Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought. You put a pin in it — this respite has to be or he’ll be back on his feet again. Leon’s well aware of this, too, though there’s not much he can do with the wind knocked out of him. 

The cramping in his stomach is searing, sharp, and intense. His lungs scream for air; his head, clouded and disoriented, insists he get up and fight back. He will not fucking lose to you, not again.

He isn’t even totally sure when this conflict started. He isn’t totally sure why you hate him so much, but he’s relieved because god, does he fucking hate you, too.

He hates your arrogance, hates how quickly you’re able to surpass him in almost every respect, hates that you’ve still got an innocent glow to your cheeks and that he’s plagued by night terrors and perennial dark circles beneath his eyes despite the copious amounts therapy he’s received (mandated, of course. Leon wouldn’t choose to go). 

Above all else, Leon really fucking hates that he can’t stop thinking about you. Ever.

You occupy most of his thoughts across both day and night. He tailors his training around your movements and your fighting style, he spends additional time in the firing range every night instead of socializing with his cohort because he knows you do the same, he reads whole fucking textbooks about medicinal herbs and the ways in which they can be combined to maximize their benefits because you’d bested him in medical training once.

You infuriate him. You make his blood bubble and boil and he gets such a fucking kick out of beating you. It’s an addiction at this point, an all-consuming obsession. He should feel embarrassed. It should humiliate him to fixate on anything but his own development, but your incessant snark, irascible attitude, and constant push back evidences your own intoxication with this unspoken competition. Who is he to deny you that fun? More importantly, who is he to deny himself the satisfaction of a well-earned victory? Surely his therapist would approve if he were to ever broach the topic. It’s healing his inner child, or whatever.

So it’s out of sheer spite that Leon tries to sit up to continue. His body protests, loudly. He stumbles backward; he struggles to stand to his full height. But he tries anyway. He’ll be damned if he lets you win in his arena.

It’s a pathetic sight to behold: Leon grimacing, hunched and bisected along his middle; your bloodshot eyes struggling to regain focus and your shuddered heaving shattering the silence that had befallen the training ground. Neither of you can move though both of you try. 

Incontrovertibly and irrevocably pathetic.

“Enough,” Krauser snarls, “That’s fucking enough.” His voice is wrought with shame. With anger. With a third more foreboding sentiment you cannot identify through the blood pounding in your ears and the bruises clotting along your torso. He strides toward the center of the training ring, wrists clasped behind his back. The shade of his face nearly rivals the startling crimson of his beret.

You flinch as you swallow; Leon winces as he tries to stand at attention. Krauser grabs you both by the shoulders with curled talons and a venomous frown; you both crumple beneath his grasp. 

“You two are fucking embarrassments—pitiful fucking displays from the both of you.” He whips his head to face you. The sharp, acrid scent of his aftershave makes your eyes water. With a squeeze to your aching trap, he growls, “List four areas where you went wrong.”

You try to inhale. Bile scalds the back of your tongue as his visage doubles. You definitely hit your head harder than you thought. You squint in an effort to converge your mirrored vision and your voice comes out hoarse when you respond: “I aimed for his face when I should’ve gone for his neck. I dodged left when I should’ve swept right to knock him off balance. I should’ve jabbed instead of hooked because my hook is weak. And—“

“And what?” he insists, the tip of his thumb digging painfully into the hollows of your shoulder.

“—And,” you continued with a gulp of air, “I swung too wide. It left me vulnerable, and made me predictable.”

Krauser gives you a curt nod before turning his attention to Leon. “Go on, Rookie,” he grumbles. Leon clenches his teeth to keep from withering under Krauser’s grip.

“I spent too much time on the defensive—I should’ve gone offensive from the start. I relied on my upper body strength to knock her over when I should’ve been using my lower body instead because that’s where her center of gravity is,” Leon coughs. He pauses to catch his breath. Krauser urges him to continue by forcing his shoulder back. Leon flinches at the sudden change in his posture then continues, “I should’ve finished her when I had her pinned.”

“You’re forgetting one,” Krauser rasps in irritation.

Leon clenches his jaw.  “And I swung too wide. It made me predictable.”

Krauser lets out a mirthless chuckle. “So you do have sense in those stupid fucking heads of yours. Could’ve fooled me.”

He shoves you both northward, in the direction of the medical tent. A harsh dismissal. It evokes memories of your childhood, of scraped knees and bruised egos. You hadn’t been a problem child, per se, but you’d always been headstrong. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for you to be sent to the principals office for fighting, though the shame riddling your expression never dissipated regardless of the number of times you’d gotten in trouble. 

You don’t spare Leon a second glance as you stomp away from the training ground. You don’t so much as look in his direction as you’re both examined by the practitioners on call. In fact, you avoid him in every conceivable way until dinner, but only because your choices are limited to swallowing your anger for 20 minutes or skipping a meal. You don’t have much of an appetite after your failure to beat Leon in hand-to-hand for the fourth time but you force yourself to head down to the mess hall anyway, if anything to show that you were’t affected by the fight (you were) and you’re actually perfectly fine, thanks (you weren’t). 

But life, it turns out, has a violent sense of irony and horrific sense of humor. Distance from Leon’s shitty, incorrigible attitude proves to be a mere interlude. You’re aware that you’re in the military, but why does it constantly feel like you’re fighting for some semblance of peace? 

He saunters into the mess hall flanked by a few of his friends, all smiles and baritone laughs. You bite your tongue in displeasure, and wince as your still-healing injury makes its presence known. You’re happy you can still talk at least. Or at least you were. It probably would have been better if you’d been forced into silence because you don’t refrain from spitting the venom that had been accruing beneath your tongue when Leon harshly shouldersyou in passing. 

In a way, you’re thankful that Leon fights back. You’re thankful that he’s witty enough to go toe-to-toe with you in a verbal altercation because that means it’s at least an even match. Being compared to him would’ve been humiliating if he’d been an idiot.

Though not more humiliating than the punishment Krauser has in store, you realize as the Major hands you and Leon each a gleaming pair of scissors. His office smells heavily of aftershave, of oxidized pennies and sweat. Your reflection is clear along its crisp platinum blades. Next, Krauser hands you each a headlamp. Its straps appear freshly laundered, too. They’d never been used. Your stomach roils at the implication. Or at the smell. You can’t really tell anymore.

“Well,” Krauser gruffs with his hands clasped behind his back, “get to it then.” 

He doesn’t need to explain — you and Leon are to trim the expanse of grass in front of his office with only these miniature tools. You suppose the curt dismissal its for the best. A tongue lashing would’ve made you feel exponentially worse. 

Leon follows you out the door, the bridge of his nose pinched between two calloused fingers. The beginnings of a headache blossom across his frontal lobe. This was going to take all night and knowing Krauser, you would both still be expected to run morning drills. You stand beside him—had you two ever been this close to each other outside of combat?— on the Major’s doorstep. Leon doesn’t acknowledge the way his chest tightens when he catches a glimpse of you biting your lower lip in his periphery. He chalks the way his fingers tense as they absorb the warmth radiating from your hand, itching to make contact like moths to a flame, up to residual irritation from today’s events. Surely the fluttering in his stomach and palpitation of his heart are symptoms of agitation. He doesn’t consider them to be anything else. 

The scent of your shampoo wafts towards Leon as you stand beside him on Krauser’s doorstep — brown sugar and vanilla. Incandescent. Temperate. Evocative of chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven. Leon’s chest aches. He exhales sharply, as if to rid himself of the scent. As if you’d offended him just by existing. As if he didn’t long to bring you closer just so he could bathe in your sweetness again—wait, where did that come from?

“Let’s get this over with,” you grumble, crossing in front of him to kneel on the opposite end of the yard. The headlamp clicks as you power it. Its light is dim at best, barely illuminating the grass beneath your fingertips. You’ll have to squint to achieve any level of accuracy or consistency once Krauser leaves his office and turns off the porch light. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, jaw tight with confusion. 

You work in silence for the first hour, casting curious glances over shoulders every so often. Krauser had left half an hour prior, leaving you two to your own devices. You catch Leon staring a few times; he catches you staring, too. And when your eyes meet, it’s almost like a race to see who can look away first. Another competition. Great. 

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumble aloud. 

“Humiliating,” Leon echoes. 

“Mortifying.” 

“Degrading.” 

You sit up from your hunched position, and cross your arms across your chest. With an arched brow and probing stare, you challenge, “Discomfiting.” 

Leon’s grip tightens around the scissors’ handles. He mirrors your movements: “Disgraceful.” 

“Demeaning,” you snarl, digging the blades of the scissors into the rich soil. 

“Discomposing,” he spits back. 

“Ignominious.” 

His mouth opens and closes but he can’t conjure up any more synonyms. You’ve bested him again; he should’ve known this would be the outcome. Anger bubbles in his chest and radiates through his fingers. The corners of his mouth turn down in a tight, scowling frown. 

But then you giggle. 

You giggle. 

It’s surprisingly sweet on his ears, surprisingly melodic. His expression softens when he sees you smile. It’s… brilliant, actually. Sparkling and bright even in the dead of night. A warm blush creeps onto Leon’s cheeks. He’s laughing, too. 

“Sorry,” you laugh, “that was—what’re we doing?” 

“Cutting the grass with scissors?” he offers with a bemused smile.

“No,” you shake your head and readjust so that you’re sitting on your side, “no, I mean, what’re we doing competing over… vocab words?” 

A small smile creeps onto Leon’s face. Heat rises to yours at the geniality of it all and you’re forced to look away, fearful that you’d have to admit that Leon Kennedy is quite beautiful when he smiles if you don’t. 

“The usual,” he says, “measuring our dicks to see whose is bigger.” 

You toss your head back in a full laugh now. It strikes Leon’s heart much harder than expected. He wants—needs— to make you do it again, so he continues, “It’s mine, in case you were wondering.” 

“It isn’t and I wasn’t,” you giggle again. It makes him smile more broadly and the sight is so disorienting, so antithetical to the morose glower contorting his face whenever he looks in your direction, that you have to lie on your back to maintain your composure. 

You come to the realization that you’d never been out this late before. You’ve spent so much time studying medical texts, practicing your aim, and honing your general skills in ranges and labs that you’d had never taken the time to truly look at the night sky. Glittering silver stars embroider the indigo canvas. Their rays like loose silken threads emanate from pinpricked epicenters. You wonder if you could observe spools of the Milky Way’s arms if you ventured deep enough into the desert, leaving behind the bruises and sand-caked soles. Your lungs would fare better out there, your heart might, too. You turn off your headlamp to get a better view.

There’s a brief pause before you hear Leon crawl over to you. The grass rustles softly beneath his knees. He turns off his headlamp before getting too close. You appreciate it; you didn’t know he was capable of such consideration. 

You hold your breath when he lies next to you, the setting and his proximity suddenly feeling intimate. Your chest constricts. Your fingers grow numb. You become hyperaware of the wetness along the nape of your neck caused by burgeoning dew drops. And it isn’t until you exhale, your breath visible in the chilled air, that you finally admit that he’s making you nervous. He’s making you nervous and it feels good.

“So,” he rasps, hands tucked neatly under his head, “have you always been such a fucking bitch?” 

You bark out another laugh, “No, actually. I’m usually a goddamn delight.” 

“Around everyone but me, it seems.” 

Was that… remorse in his voice? Sadness? You readjust your shoulders and clear your throat. 

“Yeah, it’s just… it’s just you I hate,” you whisper. 

Another pause.  Leon bites the inside of his cheek, contemplating what he should say next. There’s one question that he’s been dying to ask, one that’s been simmering in the back of his mind since this useless rivalry began. He doesn’t know if he should ask, both because he isn’t sure you’ll answer honestly and because he isn’t sure he actually wants to know the answer. But this feels opportune. He’s never going to get you alone like this again. 

“Why?” 

The obvious pain his voice hurts you more than you’re willing to admit. Your throat tightens around the words that threaten to spill forth, squeezing and constricting and forcing them back down to the point of asphyxiation. The air suddenly feels to sharp in your lungs, your mouth too dry. 

You hate Leon for a myriad of reasons; you hate Leon for no reason at all. It’s complicated, except it isn’t. 

The matter isn’t complicated in the slightest. In fact, it’s a simple truth your own recalcitrancy actively avoids accepting. Admitting it would be the equivalent of exposing yourself, of laying yourself flat bare and standing in front of the mirror to face the consequences of your own self-sabotage. Your shame nearly suppresses it as it slips through your chapped lips.

“Because you’re everything I’m not.” 

The words sit heavily in the space between your bodies, leaden and cosmic. They suck the air out of the night sky, out of his lungs, and out of yours, too. 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

You swallow thickly before answering, “It means that everything comes so naturally to you: you’re naturally charming, naturally tactical, naturally at the top. The sergeants are always talking about how well you’re doing and it doesn’t help that Krauser’s always giving you additional specialized training. Existing here is just so fucking easy for you and it makes me sick.” 

He’s gobsmacked by the revelation. A mirthless, sardonic chuckle is ripped from his throat. You sit up at the sound, anger flaring in your chest as his laugh grows fuller, deeper, more raucous. 

“What’s so fucking funny?” you ask, lips curled in a sneer. 

“Because I hate you for same reason,” he admits, angling his face towards you. You look lovely this way, he thinks, petulant and blazing with rage. Fury suits you. Opalescent moonlight suits you, especially as it halos your face and casts haunting shadows across your cheeks. 

“What?” 

Leon sighs then sits up, forearms balanced on two raised knees. “You… Have you not noticed that I disappear ten minutes into dinner, and show up to morning drills fucking exhausted every morning?” 

“Why would I notice that?” 

“Because you’re fucking observant? And,” he smirks, “because I catch you looking at me often enough to know that you have noticed me leave.” 

Your cheeks sear in embarrassment, but then a new realization dawns: “Doesn’t that mean you’re frequently looking over at me, too?” 

His jaw goes slack as he racks his brain for some kind of comeback. He’s grateful for the oppressive darkness—he’s certain he’s flushed a deep scarlet. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles, dropping his gaze. He tears a chunk of grass out of the ground before remembering he’s on Krauser’s turf. The blades fall through this fingertips. He inhales before continuing his earlier sentiment, “I spend hours practicing every night, you know. It doesn’t come naturally.” 

“You do?” 

He nods. “I learned krav maga because I knew just boxing wouldn’t suffice against you. I’ve been practicing with a sniper rifle because you’ve broken my distance record four times now. God, I’ve been reading textbooks on strategy because your plans are always so much fucking better than mine.” 

You open your mouth to interject, but he shoots you a warning glare. You bite your lower lip to keep from speaking. 

“And you have so many friends,” he continues, “and all I ever hear the sergeants talk about is you. Krauser’s the fucking worst of them, you know. He compares me to you all the fucking time —and I think what makes me hate you the most is that you chose to be here; I didn’t. I was forced.” 

He grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply through his nose, quelling his burgeoning anger. It’s unfair to hate you for choosing this life. It’s unfair to hate you for being so privileged. You don’t deserve the lecture; you’ll suffer enough throughout your stint in the military. He’s so ashamed of his own resentment that he can’t even bring himself to look at you. 

“For what it’s worth,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m only as good as I am because of you.” 

He gives you a sidelong glance and snorts, “No, you’re not.” 

“I am,” you insist, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I work thrice as hard just to keep up with you. I thought… I thought you were just… good at everything and that pissed me off so much that I went and became an expert at everything out of spite just to knock you down a peg.” 

You rest your temple on your knee, and turn to look at him. He meets your gaze and for the first time, neither of you look away. You look at each other, you actually see each other and recognize that any and all preconceived notions were just pitiful projections. The eye contact is prolonged, apoplectic, apologetic, and so deeply terrifying that you’re left breathless by its odious sincerity and the truth that claws along with it. 

The muscles in Leon’s jaw flex and you see his shoulders drop slightly. You lick your lips, tasting the crisp night air. It’s sweet now, less arid. The smell of rich soil provides sound relief from the dust that so typically cakes your nostrils. Clarity. Understanding. Apprehension evaporated by the intensity of the moment.

“I didn’t… I didn’t really have a choice, either, if that helps. I don’t want to be here.” 

“Who fucking does,” he sighs, tearing out another chunk of grass. Krauser’s definitely going to notice now. 

“Probably that one guy who’s always throwing weights around.” 

“The one on steroids?” 

“He’s on steroids? Isn’t that, like, illegal?” 

“Isn’t everything we’re doing here technically illegal?” Leon chuckles. 

You can’t help but smile. “Fair enough.” 

A beat passes. Two beats. Three beats, and on the fourth you say, “Wait, how does he pass the drug tests?” 

Leon shrugs, a playful smile blossoming on his lips as he toys with loose blades of grass. You can’t help but smile at the innocence of the action. 

“You know this is the first time we’ve gone more than five minutes without trying to kill each other?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I think I’m starting to go through withdrawal.” 

Leon smirks, and grabs the discarded scissors to his left, “You gonna slit my throat with these  then?” 

“I thought about it,” you jest with a smile.

He laughs. God, he can’t look away from you now — how did he ever look away from you? And what is going on with his stomach? He feels nauseous all of a sudden, feels uncomfortable and giddy and like all he wants to do is scoot in closer so he can envelope you in his warmth. You’re shivering. He can help stop the shivering if he just—

“Leon.” 

He perks up at the sound of his name (had it always sounded like that on your lips?). “Yeah?” 

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper without meeting his eyes. 

And months of bottled bitter indignation melt into a neat crystalline puddle. His voice is uncharacteristically soft when he replies, “Me too.” 

“I’m still going to kick your ass everything, though.” 

He tosses his head back in laughter this time. “In your fucking dreams.” 

You sit like this a while longer, comfortable despite the silence of the night. You want to know more about him. You wonder if he’ll be willing to tell you more, if he’ll be willing to discuss the circumstances that led him here in the first place. You doubt it, but in your reverie you recognize the long-forgotten glowing embers of hope. 

And much like every other reprieve from Leon’s antics, it’s short-lived. The faint fire, once promising and incalescent, is extinguished and the all too familiar flare of irritation takes its place when he speaks again. 

“So you really think I’m charming, huh?” 

[littlemourningstarr]

Lovesick

Astarion always thought flowers a waste of a gift- but maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong about that.

Read on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: fluff, like TOOTH ROTTING fluff, silly little vampire in love

The moment Astarion stepped into Bonecloak’s he was hit with a wave of different scents- all the herbs and flora mingling together in the air. It was different from the way Sekh’s workshop always smelled- his always had an Earthy undertone, a hint of fresh soil as he always had living specimens.

Derryth glanced up from the counter, where she had been jotting something into what appeared to be a large log book. Perhaps doing the numbers for the day’s sales.

She didn’t smile at seeing him, but did quirk her brows in recognition. Astarion moved quickly from the door, letting it shut behind him, the city’s nightlife rising behind him now that the sun had set. “Did your other half send you on a last minute errand?” she asked, voice still gruff but not unkind. Astarion presumed she was just never an overly friendly person.

“Not quite.” He paused at the counter, glancing about at all of the herbs hanging in clumps, quickly thinking he was in over his head- and that this had been a rather stupid idea. “Sekh doesn’t know I’m here.”

She closed her log book then, looking intrigued. After a moment of heavy silence and her unyielding stare, Astarion had to glance away.

“I was hoping you might be able to… guide me. I’d like to get some…” Astarion waved his hand around, “herbs or plants or whatever that he might find useful. And might also… look nice.”

He felt rather silly, as she continued to stare him down. “That look nice?” she repeated.

Yes, this was an incredibly stupid idea.

Astarion cleared his throat. “Something that may compliment a few… flowers.” The last bit was mumbled, and he could feel a bit of color along his cheeks, his ears. Gods how had anyone ever done this? He was right to think flowers were an utter waste of a gift.

Derryth finally cracked a small, bemused smile. The crinkles around her eyes deepened. “Most folk would just get flowers.”

“I’m not most folk,” Astarion retorted, adding, “besides, what use would he have for flowers? They would sit and die on a desk or a shelf. At least something here would be useful.” He gestured around him again. “But hells if I know what exactly.”

She moved around the counter, motioning for Astarion to follow her. He did, further into the shop, swearing he was seeing plants he had never seen before. He didn’t think that was even possible at this point- not with Sekh’s obsession.

“What color flowers were you thinking,” she asked, adding, “and what mayhem has that drow been up to in his lab? Maybe we’ll get lucky and we can compliment the color and his work.”

*

Astarion continued to feel utterly ridiculous, walking through the city, clutching a mess of herbs and flowers, all tied together in a golden ribbon. Was this what lovesick youths felt like? He couldn’t remember, but it had to be the most daunting feeling. He swore everyone was staring at him.

Most nights that would be fine, but this felt- embarrassing? As if everyone knew exactly what he was up to. As if everyone could read that he was going through some overrated, ridiculous, sappy romance tradition.

It was only worse that Sekh hadn’t gone out to the Elfsong that night for a drink, but had made his way out to Sharess’s Caress. Which, again, any other night Astarion would have been utterly amused by this, would have wondered what trouble the two of them might get up to-

His thoughts all jumped to a screeching halt as he stepped into the brothel, dodging a few already drunk patrons who were chasing about one of the courtesans- a pretty half elf with a long blond braid, who gave Astarion a little smile as he moved past him.

Astarion slipped past the patrons, off into the curtained room where music was giving the air a new life. It took a moment, but he found Sekh across the room, sitting casually with Sorn and Nym as if they were simply sharing a drink in any tavern. Which, he knew, was how Sekh was seeing it. He’d chat up the other drow happily until one of them was pulled away for a patron. There were plenty of nights where patrons tried to employ Sekh, even- drunk enough to notice realize he was in fact just a patron like them.

Astarion had scared off plenty of those types, in the past.

He made his way over, his drow glancing up when he was only a few paces away, the cup he was lifting to his lips pausing and hovering near his mouth. Astarion was far too aware of Nym and Sorn watching, as well, when he finally reached Sekh.

He cleared his throat, offering out the flowers and herbs, all tangled in their gold lace, feeling as if his voice simply didn’t want to work. “These are for you,” he mumbled, adding even softer, “my love.”

Sekh set his glass down, stood up and gently covered Astarion’s hand holding the flowers with his own. His mismatched eyes were dancing. His other hand was gently touching the petals of one of the flowers- a large white bloom that Astarion had no idea the name of. He had just gone on instinct.

He was truly thinking his instincts were broken, in that moment. His pulse was alive despite that he hadn’t fed yet, his heart thumping painfully in his chest, banging against his ribs. Why was he nervous? Why did something so trivial as giving flowers to his lover make him feel like crawling out of his skin? It wasn’t as if he needed to impress Sekh, he knew. They had years together now. And yet-

Sometimes, it all still felt so new.

Sekh’s mouth curved into a soft, sweet smile. He leaned past the flowers, pressed a very gentle kiss to Astarion’s cheek. “You,” he whispered, “are a ridiculously sweet man.” He took the flowers himself, carefully examining them, as Sorn and Nym both gave soft laughs as they watched.

“Flowers? In a brothel?” Nym mused, tracing her finger around the lip of her own wine cup. “You are indeed a strange one, Astarion.”

And while he couldn’t argue that, he also couldn’t bring himself to tell her that the idea had just struck him that day, and if he didn’t go through with it now he would have lost his nerve. Over flowers. Gods what had he become?

“I guess romance is far from dead,” her brother added, as Astarion glared at both of them. They took his annoyance with nothing but more smiles.

“Is this Weavemoss?” Sekh asked suddenly, fingers dancing along the purple wisps. Astarion turned his attention back to his lover, as Sekh added, “and this is Mergrass, and this…” he trailed off, his gaze lifting from the bundle in his hands to Astarion.

The vampire shifted awkwardly. “What good would just flowers be for you? I thought you could… use those…” He waved his hand, before he reached up, covered his own eyes. “I think you should simply stake me now Sekh, it would be less painful.”

Instead of the requested stake, however, Astarion got Sekh’s arms tightly around his neck, his lover embracing him. Astarion was barely able to lower his hand from his eyes in Sekh’s grip, as the drow peppered his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, with kisses. The strange, embarrassing dread was quickly replaced by a sweet soaring feeling, as Astarion drowned in the delighted sound of Sekh’s laugh.

“You said flowers were a waste,” he teased. The way Sekh was looking at him made the world melt away, around them. If Sorn and Nym were still watching, Astarion was oblivious.

“Well they are,” he said, even if he couldn’t bring his heart into the statement. “But perhaps… I thought you might like them.”

“Oh, I love them,” Sekh said, adding, “just like I love you,” before leaning in, giving Astarion a proper kiss. The vampire’s hands drifted to his waist, squeezed gently, as he began to feel dizzy over the warm sensation of Sekh’s mouth, the taste of wine clinging to his lips, his tongue. He felt…surreal.

When Sekh pulled back, he leaned up on his toes, pressed his forehead to Astarion’s for a moment, before he eased back, glanced over at Nym and Sorn.

“I think I’m going to take him out for a little hunt,” Sekh said, “then take him home. Seems only appropriate I get the chance to let him feel… special too.”

Sekh glanced at Astarion, and the vampire’s stomach was up in the most pleasant mess of knots.

“What a bore,” Sorn said, resting his chin on his palm. “Fly away lovebirds. Perhaps you’ll entertain us another night.”

Nym only rolled her eyes at her brother, before she shooed Sekh and Astarion off. The vampire felt Sekh take his hand, tangle their fingers together, as the drow led him quickly through the brothel, back out to the bustling streets. Sekh turned them away from the gates back into the city, his other hand still clutching his flowers and herbs tightly to his chest.

“Let’s find you a little beastie to devour,” Sekh said, “so I can devour you.”

Astarion felt his heart race over the idea. Yet- “I didn’t… darling, you don’t have to-”

Sekh paused, tugging Astarion up against him. The vampire could smell the subtle floral scent, mixing with the herbs- it was oddly soothing. “You didn’t do this just to get me on my back beneath you, I know,” he teased, “you don’t have to even try for that, Starshine. But I think I’d quite like to whisper into your ear all night how much I utterly adore you, if that’s agreeable?”

Astarion swallowed thickly, lost in the scents and the cool night air and Sekh’s dancing eyes. Had he ever felt so utterly a fool and yet a king before, in his life? Had there ever been a time, before this man, where he had actually known what it was like to be so hopelessly in love?

He swore that even if there was, lost in the recesses of his long dead memory, it would still pale in comparison to what he felt now. That giddy, safe feeling, that excitement over just seeing his lover smile.

That feeling that wherever Sekh was present was home- and he was finally safe to think that.

[i-likegamesbut-cant-playthem]

[shadowduel]

eye of the beholder

[mugentakeda]

better safe than sorry

[hychlorions]

they match :')

[mishy-mashy]

Kudo is actually such a kind, soft-hearted guy that had to toughen up because he cared too much

He looked at AFO's rule, and even though he was weak, he had that glint in his eye that has been referred to as the "will of a hero" to oppose him. A hopeful glint shared with Midoriya, Bakugo, and Hawks

He even parallels Hawks when they talk about that particular look in their eye

From a glimmer in the eye, to which eye is shown, how much of the face, a similar angle of the face, and placement of text questioning the existence of that light,

He stormed to kill Yoichi with Bruce, but couldn't, once he saw the state Yoichi was in. Even knowing he was the enemy, he still reached out his hand and never let go, even when they were running

When Yoichi died, even though they'd only been together for two months, Kudo still cried and froze up.

This is a reaction from a man who repeatedly used lives as a stepping stone for his own goal.

Kudo said himself, that victory was life, and defeat was death. He had killed and seen his friends killed over and over, but still cries when it happens again. And to someone he only knew for two months, at that.

Kudo gathered allies under his cause, and they were loyal enough to die for him. Bruce cries (still smiling tho) facing AFO, tried protecting Kudo when he froze up at Yoichi's death, and we see all Kudo's comrades dead in the end. Maybe Bruce was suicidal when he went to face AFO, knowing he'd die, but most of his comrades (and Kudo) were already gone. Their cause was snuffed out, but the will persisted.

Kudo is a bit like Aizawa.

A bit crass and blunt, doesn't like beating around the bush, but he can clearly see what kind of person you are. He's not openly kind, but you know he cares so much, but has also lost too much once. He's seen his friend(s) die, and shouldn't it have been him in that spot? Shouldn't he have died instead, but was forced to continue living for that dead person's sake?

His speech about why we call Abilities "Quirks", recognizing people's intent over raw power is the real power. (Ch 369)

He's blunt and goes straight to the results rather than beat around the bush, but it doesn't mean his heart is frozen and he doesn't care about you. (Ch 408)

He cares so much, and that's why he has to do so much. (His whole Resistance thing, figuring out how Yoichi's Factor works to make sure Yoichi and his will can live on in some way)

He recognizes that Midoriya isn't driven by duty, but that he genuinely adores Quirks too much. (Ch 414) He could look at Midoriya, read that immediately, and even though he looked through his memories, Midoriya's character was his takeaway. Not that Midoriya is an idiot for letting himself be stepped on, or that this kid was bullied, but that Midoriya could see the goodness in others.

Like how Aizawa saw that Midoriya was relying on the reason [It can't be helped] whenever OFA broke his bones and told him he can't always break himself just because he could be fixed (Midoriya's recklessness that showed itself on the first day of school). He called out something that was an underlying, innate belief to Midoriya, that was so normal to the teen, and no one else had brought up as wrong to him.

The first thing they perceive is a person's character.

When Aizawa tied up Midoriya on the first day of school, he wasn't telling him off over his Quirk destroying him being a PR thing or too gruesome for the public. It was out of the fact that his Quirk shouldn't destroy him, because it's dangerous for Midoriya.

Aizawa came off antagonistic, but he was looking out for Midoriya. He didn't want him to keep breaking his whole arm, he didn't want him to get stuck in the mindset that he had to get hurt to use his Quirk, he was looking out for his wellbeing from the start. A kid he didn't know personally until that day.

Kudo did a similar thing. He turned his back, and refused to help, because they were putting their hopes in a delusional boy who would go too far. When the vestiges realized their gathered Abilities and Quirks were letting Midoriya have the freedom to do as he wished, Kudo already knew, only saying "His path is the right one". He could relate to having to run full-sprint to see your goal realized, even if everything opposed him, but didn't want Midoriya to go through that same path alone.

If he were alone, he'd be like Nagant. He had to have comrades to be like Kudo, able to continue and stand for their beliefs, but having comrades to fall back on, or pull him back when it's too much. That's why he follows up in that moment with, "But, if there's something Midoriya does need..."

Kudo and Aizawa could see themselves or their comrades in others, and knew how to approach those character flaws that were normalized to others and said person.

Kudo could see others for who they were, and I think it's this, and his caring nature, that he gathered so many allies with him. He knew when to be blunt, when to show kindness, that the truth hurts but needs to be seen, was actually very logical and witty, and when to step aside and let people do their thing, even if it wasn't the best move (like saving All Might). Because that was what was best for that person.

It's not like people would join someone so wholeheartedly without conviction and being left unseen by that person. So many people were willing to die with and for Kudo, and Bruce believes in him so much.

When All Might's vestige was fading and becoming more solid, Kudo had to look away. They knew it meant All Might was dying in the real world.

Kudo was telling Midoriya not to intervene with Gearshift there. But once he saw All Might genuinely dying out, he couldn't look at him, and kept quiet. He stopped hanging onto battlefield logic of necessity, shut up, let Midoriya do his thing, and it saved All Might. It saved Midoriya from seeing his idol die in front of him, and Kudo didn't have to see another ally die beside him.

The chapter is literally called [We Love You All Might!!]. Even if it's just meant to focus in Bakugo and Midoriya, and only has 2 exclamation marks, it can't discount the world is watching. The vestiges care about All Might too.

When the vestiges come up with the plan to forcibly transfer themselves to deal damage, Kudo volunteers himself as the test dummy. Sure, he backs it with a lot of reason too, but he didn't want anyone else to go first as a test drive

He, with a Gearshift Ability that resembled a manual car, was the test drive. Ha ha pun- *gets shot*

En tried going first. Kudo rejected him, saying he would go first.

"Part ways with Gearshift [me], and you'll be free of the crippling recoil too."

Too. TOO.

KUDO JUST WANTED TO GO AND BE DESTROYED FIRST. HE PUT THE FREEDOM OF RECOIL DOWN AS AN EXTRA BONUS SO THEY'D AGREE WITH HIS CHOICE.

I'd cut the image so it looks better, and I can use Bruce's words elsewhere, but this is an image limit, so,

- Kudo refused to let anyone else go first. This was before giving reasons to convince them he should leave first

- En gives reason to why it can't be Kudo. Kudo just says, "Listen." and reminds them of now.

- Look at Kudo's face when he says that. The guy knows what he's doing when he cuts off En, and would probably be a horrible liar. He might as well be pulling this out of his ass.

He's said "The world will end" "You have to or else" "Five minutes" "You're going to die" a few times in this fight already. DUDE STOPPP

(Terrible liar and a guy who purposely eggs you to torment? What a great friend he would be [yknow, when u make ur friends freak out by being ominous or reminding them of stuff. Like Toast to Lilypichu in a game of Observation Duty])

- "Too."

- Bruce's trust in him, but knowing when to pull Kudo back from going too far

Also, when he's transferred, he smiles to Midoriya. He knows he's about to die again, but the last thing he does for Midoriya is

1) Take away the recoil of his existence as a Factor on the boy

2) Reassure him that it's okay, so it doesn't weigh on his conscience

Even if only in thought, STILL!

KUDO LOOKED SO PROUD OF MIDORIYA!

I bet Kudo is suuuch a sentimental fool

> [Be me and watch your new friend die]

> [I have Yoichi's Factor]

> [It's like I carry his will now]

> [Have a glint of opposition in my eye that drives the Demon Lord and my comrades (Bruce) crazy]

> [Hey Bruce, let's figure out how it transfers]

> [Bruce's common sense VS my rabid ideas]

> [I win]

> [Bruce was unwilling the whole time and still ends up with the Factor]

> [The Factor is named One For All, after something in Yoichi's favorite comic book series]

> [We pass it on to the future to carry forward]

> [Even as everyone else and me dies, I make sure Yoichi and his will are safe from his Demon Lord brother that locked him up]

> [Decades later, my sweet vaulted friend reminds me of when we met]

> [I turn around and give my whole-hearted support to believe in some 15-year old boy because Yoichi believes in him too]

SEN - TIM - ENT - AL!

When Shinomori was stolen by AFO, Shinomori pushed everyone away before they could really notice the invader. Kudo called out for him.

Everyone is in shock, but I don't think it's a mistake that the text bubble calling out for Shinomori is pointing from Kudo.

All For One made it through and is ready to steal them, but the first thing Kudo did was call out for the one at the very front.

[On the post I made that mentions Shinomori pushing everyone away] What if Kudo wasn't pushed away? What if this was him at the front, realizing the danger and turning around, but being unable to do anything for Shinomori when he saw?

Like Bruce, Kudo communicates. He doesn't expect you to just follow or understand him. He actually lays it out and makes sure you keep up.

He explains

- the transfer of vestiges, and why he should go first

- his Quirk

- why Quirks are Quirks

- reports to Midoriya what's happening and what's next

- to Yoichi why they couldn't trust in a delusional boy. In a way that wasn't Bruce's roundabout "we lived in a terrible era and a leader gathered us"

When En panics, he barks at En to keep up. By barking at him, rather than any other way he could've used his tone, it shuts up En in his frantic babbling. Kudo also lets Vestige Might put in his thoughts to understand better, and uses it.

Eye reflection. Kudo can really see people for who they are, and understands others, and himself.

I can't repeat the pics cuz image limit, but look at previous panels here. For example, Kudo saying Yoichi's will lives in him, and when AFO reflected in his eyes

It's something I learned from Re:Zero. When a person in reflected in one's eye, something something that person can see the true core of you, of what you really are underneath everything. The eyes are the window and mirror [glass] of the soul. I finally see the true you.

AFO never reflected anyone.

But Kudo reflected AFO when the man accidentally killed Yoichi. He saw that AFO wasn't seeing anything, so later, Kudo smiled and mocked AFO at his own death.

"Yoichi?"

"He's gone."

"You killed him, Demon Lord."

And AFO hated that reminder.

Kudo was reminding him of what the truth was. Kudo saw it himself, and AFO blocked it out from the get-go. Kudo already knew what AFO was, what he was seeing, what he was doing to himself by blaming Kudo instead of himself.

And then, Kudo's eyes reflected his own hand when he realized Yoichi's Factor was in him.

Kudo clearly saw himself, and in himself, Yoichi. Nothing distorted it. It really was a clear mirror.

He really perceived Yoichi's will was living on, and was right. Otherwise, his eyes wouldn't have shown it.

Kudo was right about AFO. It's even implied back when he and Bruce had their backs turned; Kudo knew what AFO's real goal was. That was back when AFO preached unity and division under him.

Kudo could always see right through AFO. He really understood people from the start. And he never tried making up truths to justify what he was seeing, facing it head-on.

Kudo's lying about the world being black and white.

Kudo and Bruce saw the world as black and white. This was mentioned in the void.

Kudo also says, "Victory meant life. Defeat meant death."

But it's the Resistance. It's when Japan and the world was at their lowest. The world wasn't black and white; there's lots of gray.

Kudo and Bruce would've seen this. Kudo even admits that there's gray, just not directly.

Kudo says Yoichi knows, how he killed and trampled so many lives, to get back at AFO. He knows it wasn't right, or an amazing choice. Later, he says that when your back is against the wall, you have to make callous judgements. These hint at gray moments.

Kudo and Bruce have faced and been in the gray. But it's too hard to make the right choices, and there are times there is no right answer.

Historically, soldiers would convince themselves the enemy were monsters. They wouldn't be able to fight and kill them otherwise. They wouldn't be able to live with themselves without believing in this so badly.

Kudo and Bruce had to have been the same way. They were Meta Humans [Monsters] in a time they were viewed as diseased humans. The monsters were real. And they had a Demon Lord. Kudo and Bruce literally dressed up as soldiers.

Even if they were monsters to society, being Meta, Kudo and Bruce were still human. They knew this. The ones who tried believing in only black and white were inhabitants of the gray itself.

But they have to protect themselves. Kudo is so adamant that the world is only black and white, because he can't stand the gray. What it makes him do, what it means, that he's too weak to do anything.

Yoichi is an example of that gray area. The mortal enemy's younger brother, was actually locked up and sickly. He's just a comic book nerd. And it humanized the other side Kudo opposed so vehemently.

Kudo says victory is life and defeat is death. And Yoichi asked why he reached out to him then. He reminded Kudo of that gray area, and Kudo opened up.

Kudo might avoid the gray area because it's a matter of the heart and a moral dilemma, but it's what makes him human. When there's no right answer in the battlefield, he decides on his feelings instead.

He wishes the world was black and white, because it'd be so easy. But it's not.

Yoichi reminded him of how entering that gray area led to OFA ("when you reached out your hand to me"), and it had been the best choice in the end. The gray area is real, and Kudo's left a bare man with only his emotions when he's there.

Kudo is actually really kind and understanding. He's too soft for his own good. Thanks if you made it this far, I hope it makes sense (tag and image limit)

[localcryptic]

the LD Rangers team is the nightmare blunt rotation. argent is intentionally trying to freak herald out because its funny. herald keeps floating higher and higher because he can't help it. steel's paranoia is through the fucking roof. ortega is the ONLY one having a good time. don't even get me started on sidestep

[ruvviks]

my cyberpunk wip folder is entirely too large on account of too many ocs at this point so have these sketches i might never finish :] top to bottom left to right: ambrose, @mojaves' seb + cassidy's arm, cato, jesse, mojaves' gabriel, seb again + reuben + aubrey, mojaves' vega + reuben again, reid </3, becca <3, james & aubrey again, the butcher, seb AGAIN, kaida, vitali, and johnny!vincent

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@jacobseed, @swordcoasts

[yea-baiyi]

YALL. everyone go watch story of kunning palace i swear it’s worth it im still riding an insane high after i finished it last night.

it’s a very good solid drama for 30 episodes kinda slow burn but well written with good characters and decent plots.

and then in the last 8 episodes, the guy’s sidekick tells him “maybe you should show her how you really feel. show her the real you” and he proceeds to go batshit feral insane. which after watching her pine after and then reject the most morally upright guy ever it fucking WORKS ON HER because she is ALSO insane!!

after that it’s just 8 episodes of him being sloppy desperate for her and begging her to give him an answer while she’s just there buffering because she has to readjust her whole worldview with this news that he’s liked her all along?? she went out to meet her former crush and when she got home he sat her down and made her eat a dinner he made. that was drowning in vinegar. because if he had to drink vinegar then SO SHOULD SHE. and after she doesn’t eat much at dinner he plops down a tray of her favourite cake. that he had given her before earlier in the drama. announces that he made it with his own hands. and she’s like :0 “you made it for me even back then?? but back then we were only….” and he’s immediately like “only? only what? what were we back then? what about now? is it different now? what are we?” and she’s just like .

[vigilskeep]

i need to wynnepost. somebody has to