#my first fic in english so...

[onetouchparadise]

Find my way back to you ~ Müllendowski

"What!?" he wasn't beliving what his hears were hearing, what have the management thought? He looked at him questioningly and if he wasn't so angry he would have felt slightly scared under the ice look of his best friend who, with his usual calm, answered: "You've heard perfectly Thomas: the coach has decided that, to develop healthy bonds of rivalry with other teams, we are going to stay in the same hotel as Barça till the end of our little trip here in Portugal. I can't understand, why are you so upset?". Müller took his time to answer him, it seems to him a too private thing , even to speak about it with Manu, a friend that always supported him since when they know each other. He was just deciding in his mind if tell him or not when Sané came in, grabbed Thomas by the shoulders and, smiling ambiguously, gave his opinion while laughing: "But how Thommy? I was ready to bet 20€ that you'd be the happiest man ever all the day. Don't you go running around, stressing the entire staff to share the room with your dear Lewangoalski once again? You're so sad since he left to Barça..."; the person directly concerned gave the newcomer an unexpected grim look, detached himself from his arms and turning abruptly towards him replied with empty, controlled words, whitout any joyful emotion that he used to show: "What I do or think is none of your business Leroy. And don't call me Thommy, do not even try.".

The always happy and prankster midfielder went to practice without paying them more than a glance and Manu wondered what had happened, what he didn't notice, that had made Thomas like this. Sané had an incredulous face: "Wha-What did I do? Has he a day off? Whatever, by lunch he'll have already forgotten...", Neuer really hoped it was true...

The afternoon, however, did not improve things, in fact it made them worse.

Thomas was really tired, the trainings for the Champions League had exhausted him, but they had also had the advantage of making him forget what had happened in the morning; everyone was already having lunch together and he couldn't wait to have some fun and eat something so he walked towards the large, well-laid common room of the hotel. His happiness was obviously short-lived: after crossing the long white path that separated him from the food, he reached his team's table, noticing however that it seemed to lean towards the centre. All of his team-mates seemed to be having a happy conversation with a single person, the person he wanted to avoid, the one he hadn't forgiven yet… yes, at the Bayern table was sitting Robert Lewandowski.

As soon as the Pole saw the German approaching, he stood up with a big smile and went towards Thomas with open arms: "I missed you!" Robert hugged him, but the midfielder didn't return the hug and if the ex-Bayern striker noticed the lack of warmth shown by his old companion, he didn't say it and continued to talk to him cheerfully: "Come and sit next to me, Thommy! Long time no see!", he tried to bring him closer, but Thomas seemed uncomfortable, both because of Lewy's pressure and because of Manu's steady gaze analyzing the scene; he looked around frantically, suddenly under all that stress he lost the desire to talk and be in company. So he said: "Sorry, but I have to go upstairs, I forgot one thing ... bye!", and left immediately, disappearing from everyone's sight, with the last image before retiring towards the corridor of Lewa's wounded face and Manu's confused and slightly disappointment..

Thomas closed the wooden door of his room with a big bang, he felt like an idiot, a real fool for running away, but he couldn't stand the pressure of being around him, who treated him as if nothing had happened ...he knelt down and covered his ears with the hands, his eyes red with tears, a single sentence anchored in his head, whispered to himself in the darkest moments: "If you really missed me you would never have left..." "Why did you abandon me?".

In the mood he was in he wished he could have stayed in his room all day, in his inner tranquility and "peace", with only the sound of his regrets and the TV playing some random channel that he honestly gave a shit about, but his fragile, regained balance was soon broken like his window by a balloon on the balcony.

The footballer jumped up and went towards the terrace, opened the window... or what was left of it... , leaned against the iron railing and, looking down, yelled at the top of his lungs: "Who did it?! ?", at that moment Leon appeared from the pool below, the owner of the balloon without a residence permit who was illegally staying on his terrace, soaked in water from head to toe, who said to him: "Come on, Müller, come down! unsocial! Otherwise the whole team will come and get you in your room.". Exasperated by his teammates (and with the secret hope of cheering up), the midfielder was forced to put on his blue bathing suit and go down the stairs to the hotel's lush garden which also included a swimming pool and beach volleyball court.

As soon as he arrived he sat on the edge of the pool to tan under the Portuguese sun and smiled happily, finally he was taking a break from all the troubles of the day and the only thing he wanted to do was rela- PLUFF!!!

The poor Thomas was thrown into the pool. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was underwater and to return to the surface so as not to drown, as soon as he opened his eyes (wet like the rest of his body) he was greeted by the small smile of Manuel "The Wall" Neuer who looked at him smugly towering in all the its bulk from the poolside. Thomas yelled "Why??" "You looked depressed" was the reply of his friend who tried in vain not to laugh, "And trying to assassinate me was the only solution to cure my depression??" "Now I wouldn't put it that way, Thomas..." "Shut up Neuer, now you'll pay!" and, taking him, by his arm he pulled the poor Manu into the pool, the last one victim of the consequences of his own prank..

They spent the next ten minutes of their lives attempting to smother each other with big laughs from the dry onlookers. Suddenly, however, with a mighty bomb dive, a third person entered the pool and started spraying the other two, who, without even realizing who he was, began to react to the fire by giving battle. When things settled down, Thomas realized that the person he was having so much fun with just seconds ago was the one he'd left in the dining room half an hour earlier; he didn't want to run away from Robert as previously: he would have been too ashamed to do the same thing again, so this time he would just ignore him. Yes, now he had a plan, clear, easy and he would stick to it. He forced himself to continue playing happily in the pool, albeit in a muted mood compared to him before, but managed to cover it up skillfully thanks to his natural playful personality. At one point, however, Lewy got out of the pool and dried off quickly ("It's so beautiful with wet hair...No Thomas! Don't think about these things, how they even come to your mind...?") then, again with a sunny smile amplified by the hot rays that hit him directly Robert asked the two against whom he previously fought: "Come on let's go for a game of beach football! It's been a while since we've played together as a team." Thomas made a strange face: his plan was already being compromised shortly after the start, but he certainly couldn't not participate. Manuel, on the other hand, seemed happy, but also a little angry: he hated not knowing things and perhaps not being able to fully understand the vicissitudes that undermined the relationship of

Lewy and Thommy got him into trouble. While the shorter one was still brooding about the goalkeeper, the latter spoke: "Okay Rob, in the meantime, go prepare everything and get the ball, we'll dry off for a second and then we'll join you.", the Polish striker gave the thumbs-up to his friend and ran happily towards the small beach in the center of the hotel garden. Even Neuer and Müller, when Robert had gone, came out of the pool and covered themselves with towels, the youngest was about to put his slippers back on again, but even before he could put his foot in, he felt jerked and pulled towards the entrance of the hotel from Manu, who, after carefully looking around, had chosen a secluded and uncrowded spot. Thomas knew that the moment of truth would arrive, he had awaited it with frank resignation and had hoped to delay it as long as possible. The blue eyes of the 1,93m tall colossus pierced him like not even an arrow could. "Now I want to know what's going on...". The shorter one didn't want to answer so he pretended not to understand: "What are you talking about Manu? The Oktoberfest has been over for two months, are you still drunk?", Manuel got offended and showed his mood with a frown: "Don't the play dumb... there's a strong hatred between you and Robert, which has never been there in all his eight years at Bayern.", "Manu, I swear..." began to say Thomas, he didn't want anyone to get in the way, he would have come across as an idiot, "Don't lie to me! I'm just worried about you! I've known you for over nine years and I've never seen you like this.". The vice captain sighed, the time had come to repay his best friend for always being with him from his debut in the national team (and subsequent victory) up to the Club World Cup, yes, he would have given him that truth that for eight years had hidden from everyone.

"Manu I... I love him" the listener's open mouth was a good indicator of his disbelief, but other than that he didn't get upset and signaled him to go on, he continued: "For 8 years I have loved him but I've never been able to confess to him, I was afraid that our relationship would be destroyed... you know it, it was enough for me to close my eyes to know where he was on the pitch, and off the field I always wanted to be with him, without it I felt lost. broken, incomplete.". "So you were terrified that he wouldn't see you and act the same way again if you confessed how you felt." He speculated Manu and Thomas nodded, "How did it happen in the beginning? At first I well remember you hated him, then you basically became Yin and Yang…so what?" "It's a long story um..." "I have time." "Alright! You're right at first I didn't like him, euphemism, I would have gladly thrown him off a balcony, but then, well... I discovered he wasn't as bad as I thought, he wasn't conceited or snooty, but he was kind, protective, almost shy and when he spoke with such a slight Polish accent it seemed to me like..", Manuel made a colossal facepalm: "Lost in love...". The midfielder was very embarrassed: "Yes", but then his face darkened a lot and tears welled up on it, suddenly he no longer had the necessary strength to stand up and, shivering, he sat down on the cold tiled floor, his bare feet caressed the grass that bordered the sidewalk, Manuel, sad for his best friend, sat down next to him and watched his stricken face. "But now he's gone, he's left me here... I didn't even have time to confess, during the last training session I... I tried, I approached him when he was alone, but I didn't I found the words, they were all dying in my mouth and I gave up, I hugged him telling him to have a good trip, how stupid I am..." "No Thomas, of course you were a bit stupid for not telling him but.. ." "Thanks Manu! Really helpful!" "Let me finish! I was saying... can't you tell him now? I can't understand why you don't want to tell him now that you have another chance?!", after his friend's words Thomas stopped: "I-I... don't know... today, as soon as I saw him again he made me feel, strange... I didn't understand how he could still treat me the same way as before, it was like he still loved me, but not the kind of love I wanted It to be.". At that speech Manuel started laughing and the other looked at him offended, the porter gently took his shoulders, smiled and said: "Thommy but do you realize that you're causing yourself a lot of problems when you don't even know if he reciprocates or no?".

Müller's wide-open eyes silently replied to his friend, who squeezed him in a sweet embrace cradled by the smell of the shampoo on Thomas's still wet hair: "Okay, come on, you'll try tonight, but now let's think about having some fun, damn you're really weird in your version hopelessly in love ... come on!" the speech brings back happiness on the tear-stained face of the vice captain who got up and followed his friend towards the beach volleyball court illuminated by the sun and by Lewy's smile when he sees his former partner arrive.

The afternoon passed quickly and the teams stayed out until sunset, after the pink gave way to blue everyone found themselves in the dining room filled with joy and good food. There was no longer the sparkling air of news and curiosities perceived during lunch. It was... different, equally cheerful, but different: it seemed like one of those big family Easter lunches where everyone knows everyone.

Manuel and Thomas were having dinner at a quiet table on the side furthest from the buffet and chatter, where the moonlight filtered through the windows, after all the day's misadventures they just wanted a few minutes of peace and a nice soup. "May I add to your table?" a voice abruptly broke the silence as Fates cut the thread of Life, Thomas looked up even if the only voice was enough for him to recognize Robert, "Sure, come along." he couldn't tell him no, he just hoped he wouldn't talk about how he'd been avoiding him almost the entire day like he was the plague.

Lewandowski smiled and sat next to Müller, the latter had to control himself so as not to visibly melt at that facial movement, he hid his trembling hands in his pockets and checked the butterflies that had inevitably replaced his blood. Then he returned the smile.

Manuel noticed everything and the fire reignited in his calculating eyes, "Uh? What are you saying Leon? Yes, I'll be right there.", Neuer turned to another table, took his dinner and walked towards Goretzka, but Thomas was sure the young boy hadn't spoken. True or not, the two "almost-boyfriends" were left alone.

Silence pervaded the two men and if it hadn't been for the colored lights that illuminated the room Thomas would have sworn he saw a slight blush on Lewy's face who was simply looking at him ... and how he was looking at him. He was still busy contemplating the divine beauty of his former partner that he spoke: "You know, I missed you Thommy so much ... it's not the same without you.". This in Thomas's heart lit a flame fed by a candle that, slowly, strengthened instead of dripping and wasting away with every word Robert said. "I missed you too, you don't know how much..." (“because when you're not here my heart is broken, it's missing and I can't find the piece to rebuild it; I don't want to find it” were the words that he kept inside and didn't the courage to utter.) at that moment Lewandowski put the spoon he was eating with on the napkin and put his hand on the table feeling the carvings of the wood underneath, in the meantime he didn't take his ocean blue eyes off the one next to him and his smile grew.

As if that were destiny Thomas took his hand and shook it crossing his fingers as if they were the textures of a dress, handmade, slowly, but of inestimable value. "I'm really happy that we remained great friends even after all this..." and Rob with those words involuntarily broke the spell, Thomas suddenly withdrew his hand, as if he had been burned by that same candle flame that had perhaps grown to much. Robert gave him an incredulous and covertly guilty look. Müller was about to cry, he couldn't think of anything and at that moment the noise became deafening, but silent as a grave at the same time compared to mess of his brain.

With tears, he left the room, but his eyes saw neither Lewy nor Manuel. “Friends, friends, friends…” was the only word in his mind.

He didn't know how long he stayed like this: sitting on the carpet in his and Manu's room crying for a love that never really started, never really existed ...

One hand was on his hair pulling it, oblivious to the pain that the gesture caused him, the other wandering around the floor following the designs of the fabric with the tip of his index finger, desperately looking for a solution to his scene that everyone could clearly see. even better than the one at lunch: "Of course I can't enjoy even a meal peaceful without coming back here to cry over myself and regret too late." he whispered to no one in particular, too pathetic at the time to be heard even by the walls surrounding him.

Due to an unexpected noise Thomas jumped and looked around frantically, when he saw the door vibrate and the malignant to move slightly wiped his tears with his arm, managed to shuffle with difficulty to the threshold and opened.

"Hey..." Robert's shy voice flooded the room, "L-Lewy... what are you doing here?" nervousness began to creep into Thomas, what was the Pole doing there? Was he upset about things that happened during dinner? Müller was so tired, he wouldn't be able to get the face of a man "not on the verge of a psychological breakdown" for much longer and giving in to the man he loved was certainly last on his "to-do list for the next millennium". "I, well, I wanted to deeply apologize to you for what happened at dinner...", ok, maybe it's true that Thomas in front of Lewy was no longer able to understand anything and totally melted, but here he was absolutely sure he had heard correctly and the sorry frown, clearly visible from the eyes and from the light biting of the lip, of the striker left no room for doubts: Robert was apologizing to him. "W-What should you apologize for?" Thomas just couldn't understand, why was Robert doing this? Lewandowski looked between hysterical, exasperated and sad, only at that moment did the German realize the emotions and exhaustion that his friend felt inside him, he immediately felt sorry for him, even if he didn't know the reason.

Suddenly the Pole gave a humorless chuckle: "Well, you've been avoiding me since this morning, you never want to be alone with me and always terribly uncomfortable in my presence then... tonight at dinner..." his voice broke down but he continued anyway "I don't know what I said did but you ran upstairs Thommy you had tears in your eyes! Whatever happened I'm sorry I didn't mean to, last thing I want to make you feel bad ... well, now I'm crying too." and Lewy wept, the tears flowing without stopping.

Horrified, Thomas did the first thing that his instinct ordered him and lunged at Robert, hugged him, felt his warmth on his skin and his shoulder half covered by the pajama shirt on the hollow of his neck; the Barça player's eyes snapped open as he put his arms around Thommy.

Müller took the other's head with his hands and, while looking at him with eyes full of tears, he took courage: "Robert I don't hate you, I..." and the memory of what happened next still lives in the German's mind: their lips met each other, finding Paradise.

When they broke the kiss it seems to them to have spent an entire century like this.

Both were crying, they cannot belived their eyes, their lips, their emotions. Suddenly Thomas started to talk and what he said melted Lewy's heart: "I love you, Robert Lewandowski, for eight eternal years, but I didn't know how to tell you, I thought I'd have..." "Ruined everything? Yes, Thomas I can understand... I love...I love you too." and they kissed again, nobody can believe it and for them it was like living a beautiful, never ending dream.

It was when Thomas, very tired, literally collapsed on Lewy's face that the two woke up, the Pole smiled and, gently, took him like a bride and carried him to Manu's bed (hoping that the goalkeeper wouldn't get angry, even if he strongly doubted it having understood that he was behind the confession of his new boyfriend, one day he would have thanked him properly...). So Robert moved the bed near to his mate's one making some sort of king size.

He tucked Thomas in and slipped under the bed too, embracing him, looked at him with infinite joy and love, gave him a light kiss on the forehead, pushing aside his dark hair and whispered: "Kocham cię, Thommy" , Lewandowski was about to close his eyes when he was pulled closer by a gentle push and a soft: "Ich liebe dich, Lewy.".

When Manu entered in and found them sleeping like this he smiled and turned off the lights, then he came off and closed the door. Then he went to another room: surely Leon and Joshua would have hosted happily him for a night or two.

[tanpopomugishu]

So, yeah, I kinda made something.

I totally have @mrghostrat 's wonderful streamers au living in my head rent free for quite a while now... (@mrghostrat If you happen to see this post. Hi!!! I'm a big fan!) EDIT : Added the last page 😁

This is not based on any chapter of ATWS, and I have no idea where this sits on the timeline of the story 😂.

I just thought it would be cute to see Crowley sulking because of a bad streaming day or something and crash Aziraphale's stream for a cuddle.

Hope you enjoy this!

[boothillz]

steel limbs clank together, the sound akin to the clattering of metal spoons against ceramic cups as boothill shuffles along. he's carrying you in his arms, your own looped around his neck as you rest your head on his shoulder.

the night is dark and starry. the moon hangs high in the sky, a silver disk among the endless black, and the air is crisp and cold. the two of you had just returned from the shooting range and you were exhausted—having used nearly every ounce of energy you had trying to out shoot boothill. you'd failed, of course. his aim was impeccable and you had yet to best him in a single match, but it didn't stop you from trying again and again and again until the two of you finally called it quits.

you can hear the sounds of his joints creaking and the soft mechanical hum of his internal systems as you near your shared room. you’d have to remind him to oil them later—not that he would forget. the man was meticulous in the upkeep of his body, after all.

as boothill sets you down on the bed, you tug at the collar of his jacket, urging him on top of you, his harsh feeling body clunking against your soft one, a dull pain throbbing in your bones at the impact. it fades away quickly though, and you wrap your arms around him, relishing the warmth of his metal chest.

yes, boothill is quite cold. the temperature of his body could sometimes be chilling, his metal limbs frigid to the touch. and while most people wouldn't dream of being anywhere near him, much less touching him, but you find warmth in his company. and boothill found it in yours.

as you lie in bed, wrapped in each other's arms, boothill's voice sounds from deep within his chest, reverberating through the metal frame of his body.

"lil’ shooter," he says. "let's get you to sleep, alright? ‘s been a long fudgin’ day.”

you hum an affirmative and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin, his breath fanning across your face as he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips hot, pleasant.

"night, night, darlin’. aint no bed bugs gettin’ ya whilst im here so rest easy.”

[galaxy-fleur]

˗ˏˋ Thoughtful Care ˎˊ˗

Pairing: RE2R!Leon/gn!reader. Summary: After escaping the hell on Earth that was Racoon City, you are now stuck in a dingy motel room that will be your safe haven for the time being. As you and your little group try to get your bearings together, you get a chance to spend some much-needed alone time with Leon after your eventful night together. As it turns out, tending to one's wounds is a more intimate experience than you thought. Word Count: <17k words; AO3 link. Notes: One use of Y/N, switching POV, some mutual pining, kissing, you take care of Leon's wounds, brief discussion of Ada, Claire and Sherry cameo. Credit: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

Life is a mysterious thing. You haven't ever considered yourself to be someone particularly special. You were always just an ordinary person, with a pretty ordinary life, and ordinary problems someone your age would typically be dealing with. You never once thought of that as something worthy being upset about. Being ordinary meant having your life in order. It meant that your daily routine was comfortable for you. Pleasant. Safe. Small daily problems that keep your mind occupied are really not appreciated enough. There is a very fragile feeling of peace in worrying over not being late to work tomorrow, or what to buy for lunch.

A very fragile feeling of peace that was forever broken for you in a single, horrible night.

You definitely never anticipated yourself to end up in the middle of some deadly outbreak straight out of a horror movie. Sure, you may have joked around with friends on how you would do in a horror story once or twice, but that was the extent of it. Jokes. Make-belief. You can indulge in fantasies about anything while you are safe and sound, however insane those fantasies may be. It's a completely different story when you are suddenly forced to shoot someone who is neither dead nor alive.

There were some that you even recognized.

A cute baker boy you remember complimenting on his new haircut during your visit to Racoon City a few months back.

A young teacher fresh out of college who shared many meaningful conversations with you near the Orphanage.

An elderly neighbor you once helped cross the street, after which he kindly invited you for tea next time you'll come to visit.

A promise that was never to be fulfilled now. And realizing that you would probably end up among them if you didn't move out of the city was... chilling, to say the least. 

Racoon City, once a place of many fond memories for you, has now become nothing but a living, gruesome nightmare that you will likely never forget. A part of you still wonders how you even managed to keep yourself alive through it all in the first place. But, somehow, you did. In part, due to a very fortunate encounter with a rookie cop who seemed to have arrived in the city not long after you. You barely spent a day in there, yet it felt like a lifetime. But despite everything fate threw your way, you two remained united, only briefly forced apart from each other, but ultimately rejoined again.

At the end of the day, it felt good to at least not be alone in this. To know that someone has your back. Heck, even simply having someone there to talk to made things just a tiny bit easier. Navigating the blood-stained corridors of the ruined Police Station on your own would have made you lose your mind for sure.

Survival is not a pretty nor heroic endeavor. You've lost people. In fact, you'd say that you've lost way more than you've saved. Your heart has been permanently stained by witnessing so much senseless death and violence in such a short time. At least you have shared this awful stain with Leon. And it's always easier to share a burden than to carry it alone.

In the end, while you didn't achieve anything world-changing or save the city, you managed to escape together, relatively safe and sound. Despite being battered, covered in blood and grime, you two at least have the privilege of living another day. One that not many share, sadly.

You even managed to reunite with a pair of other survivors along the way - Claire and Sherry - who clearly had their own stories of shared survival to tell. So, you all made the decision to stick together from then on. Each of the four of you with their own scars to bear, whether physical or mental.

Tired, and a bit lost on what to do next, you all decided to spend the day at the nearest shabby motel. To get some much-needed rest before deciding on what to do next. Not the most ideal of places, but after the night you had, a clean bed to sleep in and a safe room with no metallic stench of blood clinging to your nostrils, was more than enough to feel relieved. Although it was rather cramped with all four of you huddling to share the compact space you've been given. But it was also an undeniable source of comfort to not be alone. Furthermore, your body was so utterly exhausted that you couldn't really afford to be picky.

In fact, you're pretty sure that you blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. All four of you shared that same sentiment, it seems. You all slept through the entire day and most of the night, your drained minds and bodies hungry for precious hours of peace and safely. 

When next morning came, Claire went out with Sherry to get breakfast for you all from the nearest diner, while you and Leon stayed back together in the motel. It was definitely... strange. It was strange to share so much with someone you've only met about about a day ago. Though, considering that you spent the entirely of the last day sleeping, it pretty much felt like yesterday. You met Leon having no prior knowledge of him whatsoever. He wasn't even from Racoon City. You couldn't have known him if you've tried. Yet, the shared experience of survival side by side made you feel closer to him than to some of your friends back home.

Human minds work in mysterious ways.

So, here you are now, stuck all alone with Leon, for the first time since you reunited with Claire on the train. To avoid any unwanted awkwardness, you decide to break the silence at last.

"So...How'd you sleep?"

With a small yawn, Leon stirs in his bed and shifts onto his side. He slept the longest out of all you. Knocked out cold and waking up only approximately ten or so minutes ago. He's still rubbing at his bleary eyes, clearly not fully awake despite his efforts to appear alert for you. Given that he was also the one in the worst shape among you all, no one really blamed him for it. As the morning sun trickles through the shutters, light streaks across his face, painting his features into soft shades of red and yellow. It's a cute look on him, in a way. Though you don't linger on that thought too much. He examines the dimly lit room for a moment, almost like he needs a moment to remember how he got here in the first place, before his eyes settle on you standing by the window.

You kept the shutters down on purpose, to keep the morning sun away, making the room appear rather dark, aside from long stripes of bright yellow from the sunlight stubbornly peeking through. Though, it's definitely a first for you to find such comfort in a motel room, of all places.

Leon rolls over onto his back with a small, pained grunt, propping himself up slightly with his good arm. His voice is muffled and groggy as he answers, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it, stiffling a snort: "Honestly... Can't really complain. This might be the best sleep I've had in a while, all things considered."

"Well, I guess at least some of us are well-rested," you say, indirectly referring to your own rather worn out state despite the good 15 hours of sleep you got. You appreciate the cleanliness of the fresh air coming from the window for another short moment, inhaling with your full chest to fill your lungs to the brim. Compared to the foul stench of blood and rot you had grown a tolerance for now, even the somewhat dusty air from the curb felt like you were breathing on top of the cleanest mountain. But, you step away and sit back down on the other bed next to Leon's, leaning back on your palms comfortably. "Claire and Sherry are out to get us all some breakfast. We decided not to wake you."

Leon sits up and gently stretches out his shoulders, wincing slightily at the motion. No wonder, considering the huge, bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Despite your effort to appear nonchalant, he quickly recognizes the weariness etched onto your features, and looks over at you with a genuinely sympathetic expression from what you could tell.

You look away, disappointed that he somehow read you like a book.

It's bizarre, having someone you had basically just met feel so relaxed with you. Usually, it takes you at least a few weeks to develop this level of friendliness with someone. Then again, not like you go through what you went through the night before with everybody. After all, you already knew that Leon was good. There was no need to be cautious around him. None that you knew of, at least. That, and he seemed way more outspoken than you, anyway. A bit too trusting and naive, too. Especially for a cop.

"What about you? You didn't sleep too well or something?" Leon asks with a hint of trepidation in his voice. While a part of you is still a bit annoyed at his keen perception of you, you suppose you can't really blame him either. Given that he's likely dealing with the same thing you do.

Though, despite all that happened, he and Claire were much more optimistic than you.

Either way, you give him a small, dismissive shrug and run your hand over your hair, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant feel of it. It's dry and matted under your touch. Even with your best efforts to get yourself back into shape yesterday, your hair was still far from its ideal state. Not like you had access to your usual haircare products in here. You probably still look rather messy. You also find yourself wondering if you'll have to get a trim on it when you go back home. Maybe this whole ordeal was the universe's twisted way of telling you to get a change of style or something.

Leon gaze is still trained on you, his eyes peering straight into your soul. That's how it felt, at least. No matter how hard you try, the weary look in your eyes and slight sag in your shoulders are the dead giveaway that you are, indeed, still tired. But he doesn't address the issue. Much to your relief.

"Eh, I'm fine. I got some sleep," your response is somewhat aloof, and you know it. But your lack of sleep isn't your only worry here, after all. "I'm glad you got some rest, though."

"Yeah... I sure needed it," Leon sighs softly, tracing the white bandage on his shoulder with his fingers.

Your gaze, too, shifts to the blood-stained bandage over his shoulder as you look over at him. You're a bit curious whether he was tracing it more due to his overall unease or because he was reminiscing about the very person who had put it on him in the first place.

Leon notices your stare on his shoulder, and his fingers stop their movements, almost like he's a bit embarrassed of it. As he looks back up at you, his expression is a perfect blend of exhaustion and contemplation. A somewhat awkward moment of silence passes, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

"...How are you holding up?" you coax, your voice a bit quieter than usual, much to your own surprise.

Geez, you didn't mean to sound so worried.

"I'm... managing," he responds with a hint of fatigue in his own voice. He softly pokes at the makeshift bandage again, grimacing instantly as another dull pain throbs in his shoulder. "-It still hurts like hell though. But I guess I can't complain. Considering everything."

You let out a sigh and lean forward, resting your arms on your knees: "That's... not what I'm asking here."

In a way, you were curious why you were asking him this in the first place. Not like it's important. Or should be important. Your shared experience together did not change the fact that you and Leon were still pretty much strangers, regardless of everything. Or maybe you were being too cynical. Regardless, the absence of Claire and Sherry allowed for you two to converse with each other one on one for the first time in a rather long while. Something that you felt the need for. For a variety of reasons.

Your words cause Leon's brows to furrow slightly, be it confusion or something else. Though, it's obvious he understands what you're implying here, what you're truly asking from him. He pauses for another long moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. You don't rush him. Letting the silence settle between you two once more, safe for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and an occasional car driving by somewhere in the distance.

Finally, he looks away from you and stares down at the cheap carpet on the floor. His expression is almost fragile as he speaks up, his eyes hinting at a hidden vulnerability he kept inside up until this point: "It's... I don't know. I just... all the people I- we couldn't save..."

You quickly recognize his potential indirect referral. Or perhaps you were already aware of it from the very beginning, simply waiting for him to get to it. After all, the urgency to escape prevented you from talking about it, the entire Nest crumbling in on itself in a blaze of fire and ashes.

No time for talking about your feelings when you are about to fucking explode, after all.

Leon trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

So, you cut straight to it for him.

"...Are you thinking about her?" you murmur faintly but just loud enough for him to hear, looking directly at him. Providing a name wasn't necessary for you both to understand exactly who you were referring to here.

Ada.

As Leon glances back up at you abruptly, his blue eyes flash with surprise. It's easy to see the moment his heart drops, a pretty blatant mix of pain and guilt quickly washing over his face. Looks like you hit the jackpot after all.

He tries to speak, but then shuts his mouth once more. The look in his eyes is now one of confusion as he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. You allow him to have his moment with no interference. 

"...Yeah. I am," he finally admits, his voice almost a whisper. It's a wonder you heard him at all. With all the gunshots and explosions, you wouldn't have been surprised to find your hearing suffering greatly. He sighs heavily, his fingers twiddling together on his lap. "I... know it's probably stupid. Hell, it is stupid. To feel guilty over someone I barely even knew. Someone who..."

You sigh and lower your gaze as well. Saying things were complicated would be the same as saying nothing at all. Their final confrontation on the bridge was inaudible to you due to your distance. So, you were unaware of what was said between them. Not all of it, at least. The rumbling sounds of the Umbrella facility slowly crumbling in on itself caused everything to be drowned out to you. You didn't dare ask him about it, either.

His voice catches in his throat and he hesitates, making it obvious that it's your cue to continue now.

The judgment you made on Ada was based on what you saw from afar. That's all you could really offer him here.

"I do think she cared. About you, at least. We don't know why she did what she did. But... she didn't shoot you back there. I don't think she wanted to," you say, pursing your lips in thought as you play over what your eyes have seen. You were not aware of what Ada's last words to him were before she slipped from his grasp. But what you did see unfolding in front of you was... conflicting, to say the least.

Your words have a pretty profound effect on Leon, causing his heart to tighten in his chest with a painful pull. He understands all the implications behind them and, admittedly, he had already came to the same conclusion within himself. He just had no desire at all to actually face it and accept it. The fact that Ada's refusal to harm him to get her way was clear evidence of her allegiance. But that evidence was cruel and left him with no closure at all. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair again, releasing a bitter laugh that felt heavy on his lungs. He is unsure whether he should be angry, sympathetic, or simply mournful towards the enigmatic woman who was such a mystery in every way, up to the very end. Perhaps he experiences all three emotions at the same time.

But you both know that if it were you standing there instead of Leon...

Ada probably wouldn't have hesitated on pulling the trigger.

He looks to you again, maybe hoping for you to give him some information he knew you couldn't give.

But you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look downwards, seemingly just as conflicted about this all as he is. Of course, Leon realizes that his numerous questions would remain unanswered for an indefinite period. Probaby forever. He also had to accept that you couldn't give him any answers, or closure that could potentially come with them. Ada has died, and there was no way to change that cold, hard fact. Just like there was no way to take back all the lives of countless others who were lost in those streets. Racoon City had transformed from a community of pride and hopeful future into a place of death and bloodshed, with only you, Claire, and Sherry, managing to escape it alive. That was your current understanding, at least.

It would be nice to meet other survivors. But, for now, all he could do was sigh and accept your answer, however unfair it was on his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe... Maybe you're right," he mutters before falling into silence once more. His mind is racing with so many thoughts, all in conflict with one another. He is torn between his heart's desire to believe that Ada cared and the warnings of his mind to be cautious. He is uncertain about any of his emotions or thoughts at this point. He lets out another tired huff of frustration. "I just- I just wish I knew why. Why she did what she did, how much of it was real, or..."

...Or whether she cared about him at all.

"Well... at least you're safe. Let's leave it at that," your voice cuts through the dark whirlpool of thoughts in his head, turning his attention back on you. You seem to be focusing on his injured shoulder again. Perhaps in an attempt to divert the conversation, you switch the subject: "-We should really clean that up for you. It's all dirty and bloodied. Can't be good."

Leon winces as he instinctively tries to move his injured shoulder, further proving your point. He complies with a single nod, fully aware of the dire need for cleaning and proper care for the wound hidden under the worn-out bandages. Or... whatever care you could provide. At this point, anything is better than this dirty, blood-soaked thing.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a while, and it's starting to kind of..."

He stops, his face contorting in pain while he tries to move it again. His shoulder is becoming increasingly tender, and the bandage is completely stained with dark crimson blood. How much of it is his, and how much of it is of the other mutated things that used to be humans or animals he had to fight off, is unclear. Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself mentally for the miserable ordeal ahead. 

This experience will not be pleasant.

That pitiful look you give him doesn't help his pride, either. Or what's left of it, anyways. 

Regardless, not wanting to stall this any longer than he has to, he gingerly shifts his wounded shoulder and starts to delicately remove his police uniform with caution, taking his time. He took off his body armor the day before, leaving it stacked neatly somewhere in the far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. Still, what was left of the dirtied police uniform on him was just as much of a reminder of the night before. He flinches involuntarily due to the fabric brushing against the bloody bandage, the pain instantly radiating from his shoulder straight to his insides.

You realize that you cannot just sit back and watch him struggle on his own, pride be damned.

"...Here. Let me help," you murmur softly as you approach him and sit next to him on the motel bed. You begin to delicately unbutton and peel off his soiled uniform from his upper body, aiming to avoid putting any unneeded discomfort on his already tender shoulder.

Leon nods quietly in response to your assistance. You're grateful he didn't make a big deal out of it. Outwardly, at least. He raises his good arm and makes an effort to shift his position, allowing you to help him in taking off what was left. "Thanks..."

You try not to think too much about the fact that you are basically undressing a cute guy you just met the day before.

With your help, you eventually succeed in removing the top portion of his uniform, leaving him in his pants and a bandage to cover his bruised skin. As he sits there, you can tell that his upper body being fully uncovered to your gaze - except for the stained bandage on his shoulder that is - is making him feel rather awkward and tense. You can't really blame him for that.

You sure would be feeling embarrassed in his place.

"...I probably look a total mess right now," Leon shoots you a somewhat nervous smile. Despite him clearly trying to make a joke, you can still hear the painfully obvious apprehension in his voice.

"Yeah, you do," you agree rather bluntly as you glance over him without crossing any inappropriate boundaries. Leon had a more fit body than you expected, which... made sense in hindsight due to his recent graduation from the Police Academy, as he told you. It was probably necessary for him to be in good shape. Although muscular, he wasn't excessively so. His body was... normal. In a good way. Decently toned, with some softness around his sides and belly. Frankly, if it wasn't for the situation at hand, you would have complimented him, but you suppress that urge as soon as it arises.

You don't need to make things even more weird between you two.

As your eyes travel up and down his body, you lock eyes with each other for a brief, awkward moment. You quickly break eye contact with the each other, almost simultaneously.

Welp, so much for not being awkward.

"Uh... Do you remember what Ada did for you exactly...?" you say instead, touching his uninjured shoulder lightly. When Leon was shot, you were not together. You missed witnessing the event directly, only reuniting with him afterwards when he already had a fresh bandage wrapped snuggly around his shoulder.

"No... I passed out after I got shot," there is a brief pause between you, and his face reflects a mixture of pain and another indescribable emotion that you can't really pinpoint clearly. Whether it's physical discomfort speaking or something else entirely, you don't know. "I woke up with it already on and her gone."

You watch him turn his attention back to his injured shoulder, where the white bandage is stained with dried blood. He gently rubs the fabric with his fingers, sensing the pain and discomfort that emanates from the fresh wound beneath. Despite everything, it's very much evident that he can't help but feel at least a small tingle of gratitude towards Ada, even though it hurts him to think about her at the moment.

"Well, since you didn't bleed out, and your arm is still somewhat usable, I'd say she did a good job," you let out a sigh and lean back slightly. Although you had previously taken a rather beneficial first aid course, you never anticipated having to actually apply those skills to treat a severe bullet wound, of all things. "...Her being a mercenary explains her way around such stuff, I guess."

Leon's eyes are still fixed on his injured shoulder as he nods. Guess he wasn't feeling very talkative for now. Not that you could blame him for that.

He runs his hand through his messy hair as you go to grab the medkit you thoughtfully prepared for the occasion, the faint sound of his fingers scratching against his scalp echoes in the room. You can only guess that his hair is probably just as dry and dirty as yours is, considering the circumstances you've just recently escaped from. On some level, it makes you feel less awkward about your own disheveled appearance in turn. It's good to know that you are all in the same boat here. Looking like a mess, and feeling like one, too.

"It sure does," he exhales somewhat bitterly, his voice filled with underlying anguish, as if he feels deeply betrayed. And he probably does. His face covered in a plethora of conflicting emotions. You feel a twinge of sympathy tugging at your heartstrings again. "I wish she could have just... been honest with me. From the start."

It appears that he is struggling to reconcile with the disparity between the person he believed he knew and the person Ada truly was.

You decide to not mention that he knew her for less than 24 hours. After all, it's evident that he's going through a difficult time as it is, and your practicality may not be of much help to him. Emotions are notoriously illogical.

It's difficult to think of a way to comfort him in the current situation.

"Well, at least you still have me, right? We made it out. And Claire, too. And Sherry." So, instead, you choose to gently rub his uninjured shoulder as a wordless show of support. "C'mon. Let's get that dirty bandage off of you. We don't want you catching an infection or something."

When you touch his shoulder again, he returns his gaze back to you, some life returning to the gentle blues of his eyes, much to your relief. Looks like your touch did the trick, as his body gradually loosens up under your palm. He gives you a small but genuine smile. "Alright, alright. Let's get this done, then. This is going to suck though..."

"Hey, it can't be as bad as actually getting shot, though, right?" you attempt to make a small joke to lighten the mood, but you instantly feel a deep sense of discomfort inside as soon as you actually speak it aloud.

Well, that sure sounded macabre.

"Uh... Sorry. That was... pretty bad."

Leon snorts out a short laugh regardless, running a hand over his face. At least you made him laugh. Though you can't help but wonder whether he laughed at your joke, or you. Probable the latter. Regardless, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very probable agony of having his shoulder directly meddled with.

You both understand that it'll likely be pretty painful for him to endure, but you also understand that it is very much essential to get done. Especially since you haven't visited a hospital yet.

So, after you share a nod of mutual agreement with him, you begin to carefully remove the dirty bandage from his shoulder, taking your time to avoid causing him any unnecessary discomfort.

Besides your unfunny joke, that is.

"...Your jokes are terrible." Leon mutters under his breath, probably to distract himself a little. He winces slightly, the fabric that's already hardened now rubbing directly against the wound from your movements, which is more than uncomfortable to sit through, but not as painful as he expected. Or maybe he has just become more numb to the pain of it. "Don't be too gentle, by the way. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible."

"I'm not about to hurry through this and potentially make it worse, sorry," you deadpan, leaving no room for doubt. 

Well, so much for his hopes of getting this done quickly. Though he knows you're right there. He just really doesn't want to sit through this.

As you continue to unravel the bandage, he clenches his teeth tightly. The pain is bearable, but it's far from enjoyable. With you steadily approach the actual wound, his entire body tightens involuntarily, muscles going taut with contained tension. The actual memory of being shot is still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Though, he tries to divert his attention away from the pain by focusing on your presence and touch instead, however dubious such a notion may be.

He can hear you release a small sigh, whether it was out of annoyance or pity for him, he couldn't really tell. Your lips tighten as you carefully and patiently unravel each layer of cloth one by one to reach the aforementioned wound. He quickly looks down at his lap, scolding himself inwardly.

Why was he staring at your lips, of all things, anyways? He has no concise answer for that. And he is not sure what to expect once you two can finally look at the bullet wound itself, either. It's like everything was uncertain, and that was frustrating, to say the least.

"F-Fuck... That hurts-"

He clenches his teeth tightly, determined not to make any unneeded noise. He doesn't want to appear weak in your presence for some reason. Perhaps it's his pride speaking. He didn't really know.

"Sorry... I'm going as gently as I can," your voice is softer than he's used to, and he's not sure how to take that. You take your sweet time to remove the remaining layers of his bandage, being cautious not to abruptly tear it off, opting instead for a slower and more careful approach. Considerate as ever.

Leon releases a trembling breath while you carefully remove the final layer of fabric. He has to fight a growing urge to recoil as the last remaining layers of bandage are delicately removed. But it does at least feel relieving to finally take a full breath with no restriction that the tightness of the fabric secured around his chest provided. Even if such freedom was probably brief.

You both can now see his entire shoulder, which completely reveals the wound for you both to behold. He is very much aware of his heart pounding in his chest, his nerves on high alert. Once the wound is finally exposed, you examine it, quickly glancing over the hastily but securely stitched front and back where the bullet entered and exited his body. It was certainly not a clean, medical work, but it far surpassed anything either of you were capable of doing for him.

"Looks like she stitched you up, too... I wonder if that means she removed the bullet," you note, your brows furrowed together, creating a rather adorable-looking wrinkle between them.

...Goddammit, he's thinking utter nonsense.

"Ugh... I don't want to look at it," he mutters with clenched teeth, his breath slightly uneven. Nonetheless, he tries to divert his attention to something else, anything else, to distract himself from the nervousness twisting at his insides. The pain is intense and prickling, a sensation that spreads from the wound itself. The tender area around the injury causes Leon to wince involuntarily as you delicately touch it. He looks down at the wound, the stitched-up flesh making him a bit queasy. But he pushes past it. "I... can't tell you anything on what she did, sorry. Like I said, I passed out."

He looks away from it, not wanting to see it for much longer. Damn it, this will likely leave a mark. So much for the first day on the job. The idea of having to bear a permanent reminder of that horrible night makes him want to wail and claw at the walls.

But instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping at the sheets with iron-tight grip. In some sick irony, he now finds himself wishing for the dull, physical ache to return, to take center-stage again, instead of these feelings of disgust and dread that were so much more difficult to deal with.

Once again, your voice pulls him out of his silent turmoil. This seems to be a common occurrence now. But one he's grateful for, nonetheless.

"Well... Either way, you'll still need to go to a hospital for this. Preferably as soon as possible," you state, pretty much admitting that you would rather have opted to go directly to the hospital after your escape instead of staying in a nearby motel. He knew that you didn't approve of his stubborn refusal to go to the hospital. And here you were now. DIY care will have to do. You hum, your fingertips carefully tracing around the stitches. He shivers. Whether that was from the pain or something else entirely, he didn't really know. "-At least it's stitched up, so that's good. I'll just clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it back up for you. Hopefully it'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know I need to get this checked out. But for now..." As you start tending to his injury with a wet wipe, he flinches a bit, feeling a sharp pain from the cold dampness touching his skin. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues, his voice strained from the pain: "-I just want us to get out of here first. As far away from Racoon City as possible. Especially Sherry."

"Sorry... Bear with it for a while, will you?" you say as you move closer to him on the bed, glancing at him with that cute sympathetic look of yours. You start from his back and then move to his front. He shuts his eyes again while you continue with the wound cleaning, concentrating on taking deep, regular breaths to soothe his nerves. His body tenses up involuntarily, as the pain from the wound and the recollection of how it happened remain vivid in his thoughts.

"It's alright... I'll handle it." A sensitive area on his shoulder causes him to squirm slightly when touched. His entire body tightens instinctively, and his muscles contract involuntarily. "S-Sorry, just... Be careful, okay?"

You nod as you continue to cleanse his skin of dried up blood, while he tries to find solace in your quiet comfort. It presents a challenge, as the pain from his injury and the physical proximity between you two hinder his ability to focus on anything else.

"Don't apologize. I'm not the one with a damn bullet wound in my shoulder," you respond to his apology with a soft huff and a small shake of your head, your attention fully focused on your work. Your primary objective was to avoid making any sharp movements and to prevent your eyes from wandering south.

Which was... a bit harder than you would have liked to admit. You notice a few birthmarks scattered around his skin here and there. It's cute. A part of you wants to trace over them with your finger.

But, of course, you have a job to do.

Leon takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising and falling as you work on him carefully. His teeth are clenched far too tightly for his comfort, and you are kind of worried that he might chip a tooth if he keeps this up. But considering that you have no idea what he's going through here, you decide to keep your mouth shut on that.

After successfully cleaning the area around his rough stitches, you pull away and search through the first aid kit you had in the motel room. A small, thoughtful hum fills your lips.

You hear Leon laugh weakly:"...Anything worthwhile in there, doc?"

"Well, there's some antibiotic cream in here... Better than nothing. I guess?"

He watches as you pull out the small tube of some basic antibacterial cream. You're pretty sure you have seen it somewhere before. Then again, no point expecting some high-end medicine from a med-kit you found stashed in the bedside drawer. Regardless, you make sure to read through its contents, just to be sure. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and return to sit behind him, beginning to apply the cream to his stitches with your fingertips. He instantly grimaces, be it from the pain or the cold. His muscle tighten again  for a moment, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"Stay still," you instruct to him softly as you spread the cream over his stitches thoroughly, your forehead wrinkling with focus. You try your best to be gentle while also ensuring that an adequate amount is applied to the injury.

"Ugh... shit, that's cold," he grits out, his voice strained.

For a small while, the room is silent, aside from Leon's shaky breaths and an occasional grunt of pain as he struggles to stay still for you. After you thoroughly treated both sides, you withdraw with a sigh: "Well... That's as good as we can do for now. We just need to wrap it back up with something."

Leon exhales a trembling breath of relief. Poor guy definitely had the worst night of his life.

"Heh... I guess I owe you one for this." He directs his gaze towards his shoulder, his eyes shifting between his bloodstained shirt lying crumbled on the floor and the now clean and treated stitches. Compared to their previous state, they definitely looked a bit better, but it was still, admittedly, pretty gross to look at. You can only guess that it will be a lengthy recovery for him. He hums. "You did a great job, by the way. I'm not sure I could have handled doing all that by myself,"

He meets your eyes with a gentle, grateful smile.

"-Just make sure to get it treated at the hospital. I don't need anything else from you." You dismiss him with a small smile of your own. Leon gives you a small nod at that.

However brief, the implication of the future makes you feel a bit... uneasy. Considering the past night's events, the idea of parting and going your separate ways seemed to be somewhat conflicting to you. Nonetheless, you have already accepted that it was inevitable. Leon, on the other hand, seemed to be firmly committed to destroying Umrella completely for what it did to Racoon City, just like Claire was. You felt somewhat out of place between these two determined individuals. After all, you were just an ordinary person who somehow miraculously escaped relatively unharmed. You weren't a courageous hero, nor were you skillfull enough to take down an entire corporation in some blaze of glory.

...Except for the scar or two for you to brag about now. Though you honestly doubt your survival is something to be proud of. You sure don't feel proud or accomplished at all.

Regardless, you ignore all these thoughts and concentrate on retrieving fresh bandages, contemplating them with a pensive expression. It's a bit of a hassle to unwrap the delicate gauze without tearing it. "...I sure hope this will be enough to wrap your shoulder back up. Though I guess I can just run out and buy some more."

"I think that should be enough. And don't worry about running out to get more. I don't want you going out there alone," Leon's voice is more serious than you expect, prompting you to raise a brow at him. He meets your questioning gaze, his face showing a somewhat worried expression. "We're stronger together. Safer together. And after everything we've been through, I don't want to risk us losing sight of each other."

"What do you would even happen, though? We're out now, right? I get that you and Claire want to deal with Umbrella and all, but..." you let out a sigh and move closer to him from behind, beginning to gently wrap the bandage around his shoulder and torso to provide support. Despite the awkwardness and clumsiness of your work, you do your best for him. "-I'm just a normal, boring person with a normal, boring life, y'know. Not much I can do. I'm guessing I'll just... go back home to my State or something. Since Racoon City is obviously... uh... not an option of residence anymore."

Leon nods again as he listens to you. He takes a brief pause, staring down at the fresh bandages layering themselves over his body before returning to look back at you over his shoulder. You lock eyes with him.

"But still... I'd feel better if you stuck with me. Or Claire. At least until you and Sherry are somewhere safe," he shrugs slightly, wincing as the motion immediately strains at his wounded shoulder. "I'm not saying you have to help us take down Umbrella if you don't want to. That's our fight. But... I would feel better knowing that you're safe and protected. And if that means sticking with me until you are, then..."

"-Go easy on that shoulder, will you?" you release a small sigh of frustration when you see him casually shrug and grimace instantly. You place a hand on his uninjured shoulder to acclimate him a bit before continuing bandaging him up.

"Sorry, sorry. Staying still now." A sheepish chuckle leaves him as he gives you an almost guilty look. A trembling breath escapes him as you work at his shoulder. Although it's obvious that he's still uncomfortable, it looks like his pain has eased a little, much to your relief.

You take a deep breath, your expression shifting slightly. Truth be told, you were a bit jealous of Leon's unyielding faith into things somehow working out in the end. It was naive, but... refreshing, too. He continues, his gaze now locked onto you over his shoulder: "And you're not boring, you know. Sure, you may not have any special skills or training, but you're smart. Brave. Resilient. You've survived this far, haven't you?"

You take a brief moment to reflect on his words, with only the faint noise of the gauze being unwrapped and distant sounds from outside permeating the motel room. "-Won't I just be a burden to you guys, though? You're a cop. And Claire is apparently one impressive badass with a gun. I'm not... Ada, either. I'm just... well, me. Not much I can offer to help you in the long run."

You take a brief break to lock eyes with him again. Leon smiles at you faintly, his face now looking more relaxed, no longer wrinkled with the expression of pain: "Well... You've got heart. That counts for something in my book."

"Uh... not to be a downer, but I don't think my 'heart' will keep me safe out there. I never even shot a gun properly before. Until last night that is," you whisper playfully, rolling your eyes at him. Somehow, his words always manage to bring a smile to your face, even if it's a small one. Though he is pretty damn corny. "I guess I could kill zombies with kindness. Do you think my heart is any good for that?"

Leon laughs at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It looks like your bluntness didn't bother him much. When you're eventually finished with bandaging him up, you're able to see how well the pure white fabric of the fresh gauze contrasts with the previous dirty and bloody one now lying discarded on the floor. Leon takes a moment to look back down at his freshly bandaged shoulder, too, appreciating your work. At least you hope he did.

"I mean... I could teach you how to shoot properly and all. If you want." He looks back up at you with a genuinely sincere expression on his face. He takes a short pause and a small smile appears on his lips before he adds: "...And I get the feeling you'd be a natural shot from what I've seen from you already."

You only scoff at that, your attention focused on inspecting his body, examining the various cuts and bruises that still marred his skin.

Leon lets out another gentle chuckle at your dismissive response or lack there of, his face showing a combination of amusement and gratitude. Admittedly, you're a bit more huffy with him now that you're out of danger. You can't really help it. But that doesn't mean you don't feel any worry twist in your gut as you look over his bruised body.

"-How about I patch some of these up as well? Since I have all the supplies out and all."

"You sure? I can walk it off just fine," Leon says in a rather playful tone. Though, to make it easier for you to observe his body, he still carefully adjusts his position to face you fully. "Sure, a few cuts and scrapes here and there, and I'm guessing I'm gonna be bruised up pretty bad, but... Nothing to make a fuss about."

You only grace him with yet another deadpan look that makes it clear that you already made the decision for him. So, without saying another word, you grab another wet wipe and begin cleaning out his numerous smaller cuts and gashes scattered here and there, starting with his lower back, as you move behind him once more.

Leon emits a soft hiss, the familiar coldness causing him to shudder against you. He's rather pliable for you, for some reason. You kind of expected him to protest or at least grumble a bit at your incessant coddling. But it seems like he was fine with just letting you play nurse for him. 

"Stay still, will you," you quietly chide him, placing a hand on his back to stop his squirming.

"Sorry, it just stings like hell..." he mumbles as he attempts to remain still for you, his muscles tightened. His body grows increasingly rigid as you continue to tend to his wounds, a trembling exhale leaving his lips. He clenches his teeth again, but he sometimes cannot resist emitting a hiss or gasp here and there. "God, I don't remember the last time I got beat up this bad... I feel like I got hit by a damn train."

You now move to position yourself in front of him to take care of his stomach area. And once again, you find yourself trying to keep your mind from focusing too much on the physical proximity between you two. Especially as you shift to kneel on the floor between his legs, finding no other better option to be level with his lower abdomen in a way that would be comfortable for you.

All you are doing is taking care of his wounds and nothing else.

Leon and you are both acutely aware of how close you are to him now, his breath catching in his throat when you kneel in front of him. But he doesn't say anything about it, and neither do you. After all, saying anything about it would potentially force you to confront some feelings you weren't comfortable confronting quite yet. As you clean up some minor cuts of his, you feel a slight increase in your heart rate despite all your best efforts to keep a level head. However, you try your damnest to put these unwanted feelings aside by reminding yourself that you are simply doing your job.

...Only you certainly can't ignore the fact that you are now essentially kneeling between his legs. Despite this, you persevere in cleaning him up, your hands moving over his chest and abdomen with great care. With too much care, really. There was no reason for you to be so careful and soft with him. But you do so anyways.

Leon watches you intently as you're working on him in tense silence, his eyes fixed on your face, hands, the way your hair occasionally falls over your face from your position, partially obscuring your features from his view. Your gentle assistance causes him to feel a tiny shiver traveling down his spine every time you move your fingers and touch his skin directly. He swallows, clearing his throat.

"Fucking hell... I'm gonna be sore as hell for weeks," Leon lets out a somewhat shaky laugh, trying to adopt a light and casual tone despite the situation. Though, he is mostly just hoping to distract himself from... everything.

...He wonders how your touch would feel on him without the washcloth there to mask it.

You give him a slight shrug in response. "-Sore is better than dead."

Fair.

"Thanks for... taking care of all this. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"Probably have Claire do this for me."

Leon laughs nervously, realizing that his attempts at small-talk are not quite working out. He watches you grab the antibacterial cream and move back up to sit behind him on the bed. When you begin applying the cream to his back, he wries slightly but tries his best to remain still for you and conceal the full extent of his discomfort. Your hands on his skin, and the cream's coldness is making him shiver for the countless time today. "...Is the cream really necessary? It's just some cuts and bruises..."

"Yup."

He sighs, hanging his head low and accepting his fate. Once the initial foreign coldness of the cream subsidies, the sensation of your touch on his skin has a strangely relaxing effect on him, especially so when it doesn't involve the aching bullet wound on his shoulder. He leans into your touch mindlessly, despite the ache, feeling his muscles gradually unwind under your care.

He's not necessarily aware of the action. But once he does notice it, he doesn't try to move back, either. After all the stress and pain, it's too much of a relief. And he's far too weak to resist it.

With a small smile on his lips, he glances at you over his shoulder and says: "You know... I've gotta say, being taken care of by a beautiful stranger like you isn't all that bad."

You huff out a surprised laugh at that, giving him a rather adorable-looking eye roll. He feels his smile grow, feeling oddly proud of making you laugh. Even if it was probably at his expense.

"...Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, but thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself. For a patient." Your dismissive response at his cheeky remark is something that Leon finds genuinely amusing. He knows he took you by surprise with that. Which was his intention all along.

And just like that, you return back to the floor, settling between his legs and starting to apply cream to the small cuts scattered on his stomach. Like it's no big deal whatsoever. Your calm and nonchalant attitude about this all is kind of driving him crazy. It makes him feel like he's insane for feeling all frazzled by this entire situation. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

Your ghostly touches across his abdomen cause a slight increase in his heart rate, another shudder running down his spine despite his efforts to suppress it. He tries to hide his body's unwelcome reactions to your touch, biting down on his lip, but he can't help but tremble and gasp occasionally, writing it off on the pain in his head. Rather poorly. His body stubbornly refuses to calm down, not when he can feel the sensation of your fingers gliding across his skin so gently, and he just has to sit there deal with it.

...And hopefully avoid getting a very awkward boner, considering your position between his legs.

Trying to keep the mood light, he grins down at you his eyes glued to you as his voice takes on a more joking tone. Though it sounds more shaky and nervous than confident, much to his annoyance: "You don't have to respond. Just take the compliment."

"Gee, thank you. Very gracious of you," you laugh briefly, shaking your head at him. At times, you were too much. Leon wonders if that's how you normally act, when you're not in a life-or-death situation. He was not prepared for you to be so curt and snarky with him. In a way, it was endearing. Though, of course, he wasn't about to admit that outloud.

Regardless, he finds himself shooting his shot again. Almost on impulse.

"Y'know... You're making this whole 'being patched up' thing damn near enjoyable," his tone is playful, but a subtle hint of interest still manages to sneak into his voice, mixed in with his playful words. He was testing the waters. Trying to see just how receptive you were to his flattery that was a bit more flirty in nature.

"Well, at least you're not in pain. That's good enough for me." Your response is almost unfairly simple, prompting him pout a bit as he watches you finish up on the task of tending to his numerous minor cuts and bruises that he acquired the night before. At the very least, this was much easier for him to handle, both physically and mentally, compared to the gruesome bullet wound you just treated. His torso still had a few noticeable bruises and smaller cuts from the previous day, but he definitely looked much better without all the dried up blood and dirt stuck to his skin and making it seem worse than it really was.

With a soft sigh, you pull back from him and look over him, pausing to look at his bruised hands in particular: "-Those probably hurt, no?"

He concentrates on his hands for a good minute, staring down at them and flexing his fingers to gauge their feel. With a slight grimace, he experiences a tiny burst of pain as he moves them, an exasperated huff leaving his lips.

At this point, is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt like a bitch?

"...A bit. Can't say I'm really surprised, though. It's a wonder I have any usable hands left at all, honestly."

His expression softens slightly when he meets your gaze, noticing the crystal-clear worry in your eyes. He finds it charming how much you truly care and desire to help him. You may be a bit more sharp with him, but your genuine concern for him never went away. He's definitely not used to being doted on so much. Though he feels a bit guilty for enjoying it as much as he does.

You shake your head again, giving him a pointed look at his little quip: "Don't get all dramatic now."

He smiles at that.

"No, but really. Thanks for tending to me. I was serious when I said that I wouldn't know what I'd do without you right now," he repeats his previous statement again, mostly because he doesn't really know what else to say. Or, rather, what he wants to say is a bit out of line.

"Nah. I'm not doing anything groundbreaking here. It just helps to keep my hands busy. I'll probably patch up Claire and Sherry once they come back, too." You wave off his gratitude, as always. 

Leon has to refrain from voicing his observations, which directly contradict your words. Which are that you visibly cared more and felt more concerned for him in particular. He didn't want to create an awkward situation between you two. Instead, he watches quietly as you hum and delicately take hold of his hands, bringing them closer to your face to assess the damage. Of course, it wasn't a major problem. In all honesty, you could have concluded this all once you took care of his bullet wound, as it was the only truly crucial matter to deal with. Everything else that followed was rather unnecessary, all things considered.

He freely lets you hold onto his hands without any resistance. His heart flutters slightly as he feels the tenderness of your touch once more. Observing your face, he feels a mix of affection and amusement bubbling in his chest as you examine his hands so thoroughly. Your gaze lingering on his bruised knuckles is something he notices in particular. You're rather attentive with him.

Nonetheless, you pull back once you're satisfied, meeting his gaze. "-It'll probably be good to bandage up those knuckles. Make it less painful for you, at least."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," he says in a light tone, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat steadily accelerates due to the warm sensation of your fingers against his skin with no barriers getting in the way. And ignoring the persistent thoughts of lacing his fingers with yours, just to see how that would feel like.

As you begin silently wrapping his knuckles with gauze, he watches as your hands move gently and precisely over him. Even if it was faint, he couldn't help but notice the contrast between the size of your hands and his own. He almost becomes distracted by the sensation of your touch, but your voice takes him out of it.

"-Nice to know that taking that first aid course back in college wasn't a total waste of time," you muse playfully while you delicately wrap the gauze around one of his hands, making sure not to apply too much pressure on it. The sensation was comforting. By taking care of Leon, you were not only helping him, but also alleviating your own worries following the events of the previous night. In a sense, you were doing this for yourself as much as for him.

"Well, you're really good at this. Maybe you should be a nurse. Look into that." Leon's voice is soft even if his words are teasing, a hint of appreciation or admiration seeping through. You couldn't really tell.

As you scrunch up at him in response to his compliment, Leon giggles. The sound of it feels oddly calm and soothing to you. You are acutely aware of his eyes on you as you swiftly wrap the gauze around his hand, but you do not mention it to him. Considering that you were acting rather excessive with your care for him, you couldn't really blame him for staring. Once you are done with one of his hands, he glances at his freshly bandaged knuckles with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"...Never thought I'd put my skills to use like this though," your say quietly.

"I never thought I'd end up getting shot on my first day on the job, either. Or attacked by a giant alligator. It's been a wild ride, to say the least."

"I guess we all got the rug pulled from under our feet last night, so to speak," you sigh, your brows furrowing a bit as your mind drifts back to the events of the night prior. But you don't dwell on it too much. Focusing instead of the feel of Leon's hand in yours.

As you gradually complete the bandaging on his other hand as well, he continues to watch you in silence, his gaze fixed on your face as you concentrate on your task. You feel a bit sheepish, knowing you are being watched this closely, a warm, ticklish sensation flickering to life in your chest. You sigh and shake it off.

"But hey, I'm grateful I got to meet you. Though that was... one hell of a first meeting," his tone is sincere and quiet, with a genuine intention behind his words you can't overlook even if you try. You are suddenly fully aware that you probably wouldn't have been able to figure out what to do without his presence by your side in duration of that hellish night. In fact, if it wasn't for him, you'd probably be dead. Be it by giving up on fighting and simply accepting your fate, or being far too panicked to get yourself together in a moment of importance.

You wouldn't have survived if you were on your own put there. At least that's what you thought.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. And I'm glad you're here with me, right now."

The ease with which these words just fly out of your mouth is... surprising. A rather long moment of silence follows, only the soft sound of the bandage being wrapped around his other hand and the distant noise of cars outside filling the cramped motel room.

You do not look up at him, but you can be pretty certain that Leon is probably just as taken aback by your unexpectedly moving response. Your heart skips as you swiftly realize the genuine sincerity of your own words that seemed to have a mind of their own. This wasn't like you. Being this open and vulnerable about your feelings. Especially so to someone you've just met. Maybe you were even more of a mess than you thought. But when you do get the courage to sneak a quick glance up at him, his expression is rather soft, much to your surprise. You cannot quite comprehend what is reflected in there, but it brings a warm, blooming feeling to your chest regardless.

"Uh... Thanks," he speaks up eventually, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual, but you are grateful enough that he managed to blurt out at least something to end this heavy beat of silence. The unexpected intensity of the moment has left you feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard, and you never liked not being in control of your emotions.

He continues to watch you as you finish bandaging his other hand, his gaze shifting between your face and his now fully bandaged knuckles. Throughout this quiet but charged process, you deal with a rather strange combination of feelings. Gratitude for his understanding of your odd behavior without focusing on it too much. A fluttery, nervous feeling in your stomach due to your physical proximity to him, making you painfully aware of every rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. A burning heat of embarrassment blooming in your cheeks from being so upfront with him all of the sudden.

It was a doozy, to say the least. Especially to your already worn out mind.

You exhale slowly, calming yourself. Leaning slightly back on your knees, you observe his bandaged hands. Despite finding a safe place to rest and sleep without immediate danger, you still feel a sense of unease and uncertainty somewhere in the back of your mind, gnawing at your every thought like an ugly, persistent parasite. And these new emotions you are now dealing with did not help with that feeling of apprehension whatsoever. You're growing increasingly unsure about what to do next or how to proceed after all is resolved. Both short-term as well as long-term. 

Will you just return to your regular daily routine after this? Go back to work like nothing happened? Try out that study program you were so interested in applying for? Visit that new Cafe that opened near your apartment back home?

All of that seems almost impossible now. The same things that used to make you feel hopeful and excited for the future now seemed completely hollow. You felt hollow. Like Racoon City has robbed you of your future, even if it let you escape alive.

But what other option is there for you?

To play hero and risk your life again?

You weren't sure you could handle that, either.

"Hey, I..." Leon starts to speak, breaking you out of your trance, but his voice fades away without ever finishing whatever he was planning on saying to you. He clearly wants to convey something, but he is either unsure of what to say, or is hesitant about speaking his mind at all. You can't really blame him. You find it rather infuriating yourself, trying to find the correct words to express the unique combination of emotions swirling within you chest.

You shake your head, expelling all these unwanted thoughts from your mind. At least for a brief moment.

"-For what it's worth, I really am glad you've survived. With me. And... I'm thankful. For all you did for me. Even though you didn't know me at all."

Your thumbs are absentmindedly brushing against his palm now while you keep your gaze lowered. You don't want to see his face right now. Perhaps, you're just scared to.

"...You may not have saved everybody. Or most people you wanted to save. But... I'm here thanks to you. So... thank you. For saving me," you finish quietly. Taking little time to consider your next action, you find yourself leaning down and gently kissing his bandaged knuckles, lingering there for a few moments before withdrawing. You don't address the issue directly or consider its significance.

You refuse to.

Leon is very much stunned speechless when you go and kiss his knuckles without any warning being given to him, his heart quickly flying up into his throat as he stares down at you, utterly dumbfounded. This was... definitely the last thing he expected you to do, especially after such a heartfelt sentiment that left him feeling rather choked up as it is. He feels a rush of warmth traveling up to his face, causing him to choke on his own words for a good minute. He struggles to find the right words as various emotions overwhelm him all at once. But they didn't feel heavy or painful, like the crushing guilt for those he couldn't protect, or the suffocating ache of betrayal that Ada's deception left him with. 

This was lighter, giving him a much-needed break from all the depressing thoughts and questions buzzing on the front of his mind. But, ironically this was also so much more nerve-wracking to navigate.

He didn't know which on which emotion to focus on, which one to express to you, and whether or not he should express anything at all.

Gratitude for your unconditional comfort. Guilt for making you comfort him in the first place. Confusion at your sudden show of gentle affection he didn't know how to respond to. An inexplicable fluttering sensation making his guts feel all queasy.

You not saying anything to address what just happened doesn't help much with the chaos happening inside his head.

"You..." although he starts speaking, he trails off once again, cursing at himself inside his own head.

You don't seem bothered at all by his lack of a reply. In fact, Leon is kind of uncertain if you even want him to reply in the first place. It doesn't seem like you expect much from him at all. And the situation between you is already too complicated as it is, without all the added weirdness taking place right now. Maybe you didn't want to talk about it at all.

Though, the notion of you simply kissing him like that, without expecting anything from him in return is... more moving than he was willing to admit.

So, despite his disbelief and the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc on his already frazzled mind, he just keeps looking at you like. Like a loyal puppy looking at its owner and trying to figure them out. Truth be told, he simply cannot bring himself to look away from you right now, not with the memory of your brief kiss to his knuckles now etched into his mind. Regardless of its simplicity and innocence, the kiss has a deeper meaning for him. Suddenly, he finds himself being struck by your simple beauty: how tired and fragile you truly seem to him in this moment. In a way, you look just like him. Exhausted and battered, but carrying on regardless. There was a certain authentic charm in your disheveled appearance. He finds himself yearning to reach out and hold your hand, to bring your own fingers up to his lips, like you did for him.

...But before he can do or say any of that, you sigh and lift yourself up from your kneeling position beneath him. You release his hands, your thumbs gently brushing along the sides of his palms one last time before you warmth slips away from him completely. Leon continues to watch as you move away from him, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment coiling deep in his gut despite his efforts to ignore it. He tries his damnest to dismiss this unpleasant feeling, convincing himself to concentrate on whatever you choose to do next instead. Though he does kind of feel like some lovesick puppy, unable to look away from you even for a damn second.

You quickly sit back up onto the motel bed beside him, your eyes traveling up and down his form quietly. He knows you're probably just overlooking his injuries, but he suddenly feels nervous and almost self-conscious under your attention, nonetheless. Mostly because he wants to know what you think of him. Not as a patient, but as a man. He does appear visibly better, though, now that he's at least no longer wearing that dirty, bloody bandage around his shoulder, and his smaller cuts and bruises have been properly cleaned from the stray dirt and blood stuck on them. But he's definitely seen better days.

"-Claire and Sherry sure are taking their time," you say softly, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yeah, they are. They've been gone for a while now. I'm sure they're fine, though. Claire can handle herself," he agrees, his voice sounding strangely squeaky even to his own ears. He cringes inwardly, clearing his throat. His mind continues to race, with thoughts swirling like a tornado within his head. Feeling restless, he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to find the right position.

He's fully aware that his behavior has become noticeably more quiet and reserved compared to before, and he can't help but feel slightly annoyed with himself for making things awkward between you. But he doesn't really know what else to do. Whether you want him to talk about that kiss or not. If he's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.

If you would be willing to do that again...

He runs his fingers through his unkempt hair with a quiet huff, the subtle sensation of your lips brushing against his knuckles both a blessing and a curse. He's definitely the weird one here. Claire probably would have laughed her ass off at him right now, and he can't really blame her. His gaze is fixed on you, his eyes lingering on your face for far longer than necessary, trying to read between the lines, to figure out what you're thinking in that head of yours. He's itching to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence that has now enveloped the small, confined room... but the words continue to stubbornly elude him. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat again, almost like something got stuck in there. But, really, he is simply suddenly overtaken by a strong desire for physical contact with you. One he isn't sure what to do with.

You shake your head and speak up again, for which he is definitely grateful, his mind instantly rushing to cling to your words. Anything to escape from the rising disarray his head is in.

"Well, hey, at least it gave us a chance to patch you up properly."

You glare at the old bandage, stained with blood from his shoulder's bullet wound, that you had taken off earlier and left crumpled on the floor. As Leon once again remembers the wound on his shoulder, he trembles slightly, following your gaze down at the blood-stained bandage lying on the floor. He finds that cute. How you almost scrunch your nose up at that dirty thing. Like it's a living thing that caused him so much problems.

Despite him being very much shirtless, he still feels a bit too hot for his liking.

"I guess it did, yeah," he says, his voice sounding rather strained. Restlessly, he shifts on the bed again, desperately searching for something else to talk about. However, his mind stubbornly keeps returning to the sensation of your lips on his skin, and an unfamiliar longing gradually rises within him, tugging at his heartstrings...

But longing for what exactly?

He suppresses his thoughts and bites his tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed by the intensity of his desire. He feels like a complete idiot. Getting all worked up over nothing. He glances at you once again, his eyes lingering on your face momentarily before dropping to your hands resting in your lap.

"Uh... thanks again, by the way. You know. For taking care of me and all," he blurts out, trying to resist the temptation to reach out and hold your hand, his own hands now clenching into fists on either side of him on the bed.

"No problem. We're a team, remember?" you say in a more cheerful manner, giving him a slight smile. One that he returns almost on a whim. Though, as you look at him a bit closer, you hum and reach back for the antibacterial cream. Before he knows it, he feels the pads of your fingers dabbing the cool cream on the side of his cheek. You applying the cream to his cheek leaves him feeling a slight sting, but the warmth of your touch on his skin helps to distract him from it. He didn't even realize he had a cut there. He's pretty sure it was relatively tiny. It wasn't really needed at all to take care of it, but you still did it anyway, and your smile grew a little wider as you pulled your hand away. "-There. Good as new. Y'know... ignoring the bullet wound, huge scary bruises and a good number of cuts."

Despite knowing he's far from 'good as new', Leon can't help but laugh at your playful comment. It helps him relax a little, some weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of me. You didn't like it so much when those dogs were trying to bite your face off, huh?" A small smirk forms on his face as he teases you back in a lighthearted manner that a good friend would. Though,  the subject is rather... morbid. But it helps to joke about those things. A little.

He wants to say more, to come up with something witty or charming, maybe even muster up some cheesy pick-up lime to try and see if he can get away with it. But as he glances at you again, his words become stuck in his throat all over again. It's impossible for him not to focus on your face, taking in every tiny detail and drinking them all in with a hunger that feels almost scarily insatiable. This particular moment between you two has an oddly charged quality to it, as if there's more than just friendly banter filling the stale air of the motel room. He feels an intense and unexplainable desire to be closer to you, to touch you, to...

He swallows hard, trying to push these invasive thoughts out of his head. He chastises himself internally for being absurd. After all, you're just a friend and teammate. Supposedly. Whatever you were to him, his behavior is strange, like an infatuated teenager with a pathetic crush he has no idea what to do with. For fuck's sake, he is a 21-year-old police officer.

...Technically speaking, that is.

But he lacks any sort of control over his heart rate or sweaty palms. He can't help but look down at your lips repeatedly, as if he's being persuaded to do so against his own will.

As you let out a weary sigh of your own, you seem to be utterly oblivious to the inner struggle he is currently experiencing unbeknownst to you. The room is quiet, but your troubled and contemplative gaze is fixed ahead of you instead of looking at him. Leon doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. A huge, pathetic part of him wants your eyes to be on him, to be your center of attention like he was moments prior. But another part of him is utterly mortified at the prospect, knowing he'll probably just fumble like an idiot if you were to meet his blatant stare right now.

He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The shutter cracks welcome the morning sunlight in, creating long, bright yellow stripes across your features. You look beautiful like this, but he can't help but want to know what's on your mind that has you looking so distant, like you're in a world completely separate from this one. And them, much like you did with the kiss to his knuckles, you don't say anything to warn him. He just watches as you lean down and rest your head on his good shoulder. You remain silent, immersed in your own thoughts. Almost like it's a completely normal thing to do between you two. Or maybe you just don't want to address it? He couldn't really figure it out. He couldn't figure you out. And he couldn't really figure himself out, either. 

Everything was a big, convoluted mess.

Another strong rush of emotions hits him straight across the face at the sudden closeness you grace him with. It's funny, really. Here he was, wanting to get all close and personal with you, and now that that's exactly what's happening, his brain is completely blank. He makes an effort to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven. He is also suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothing on his upper half. He longs to express himself to you in some meaningful way, but still finds himself unable to say a single damn word. A chaotic mix of thoughts and cravings overwhelms his mind, taking over his every sense. Gradually, he does manage to bring himself to move. To extend his arm and gently drape it around your shoulders, drawing you in closer to him, watching how you'd react and if he should pull back and shower you with awkward apologies that were already forming on the tip of his tongue. He can sense the gentle, rhythmic pulsation of your heart against his bare skin, and that feeling is almost intoxicating in how soothing it is.

He kind of wishes he could lay his head down directly on your chest, just to listen to your heartbeat. That would certainly keep his head empty of any and all thoughts, big and small.

You make a soft noise that sounds like one of approval, moving slightly closer to him, your bodies now comfortably intertwined in a clumsy side-snuggle. A surge of protectiveness suddenly comes over Leon when you cuddle closer to him like that. Silently, he squeezes you a just a little bit tighter, letting a pleasant shiver run down his spine as your body touches his, filling out the dips and contours of his form with your own, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together. The gesture holds an undeniable amount of intimacy, and he feels a strong desire to just keep holding you and never let go.

Now, Leon finds himself being silent to conserve the moment, rather than due to awkwardness. There is a delicate sense of wordless understanding and reliance that has formed between you, without it having to be solely platonic or romantic in nature. He's uncertain how to interpret it exactly, and whether you even want him to interpret it in some specific way. For now, he simply acknowledges that your warm presence near him sooths him in a way that he desperately needs, regardless of what that entails for you two. In a way, it gives him a feeling of calmness he was longing for this entire time. A brief reprieve from all the chaos and uncertainty of the past, present,  and future.

He leans forward, carefully placing his chin on top of your head, and then closes his eyes, focusing on nothing but the soft feeling of your body pressed against his. He can hear the soft and soothing sound of your breath and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, which makes him feel strangely...

At peace.

He can feel you nuzzle into him ever so slightly, clearly being careful not to disturb his achy shoulder, which makes him smile fondly, finding the gesture endearing in a pure and uncomplicated manner. It is comforting to not be alone, in a fundamentally human sense. Maybe he needed a moment such as this one for a while now. He just didn't know that until he had it.

Leon inhales the scent of your hair as he takes a deep breath. It smells of motel's cheap shampoo, which is unsurprising. All four of them probably smell the same right now. But he doesn't really care. He is unable to resist the urge to bury his nose into your hair slightly, as if attempting to absorb your scent. Is that a bit weird on his part? Maybe. But he feels far too content to care about his dignity at this point.

Tgough, the moment breaks rather abruptly, as you move pull back from him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Leon feels a familiar sense of disappointment deep in his gut when you withdraw from him, but he tries his best to conceal it from you, not wanting to appear too needy in front of you. Even if he really was needy. Despite his heart still racing, he shakes it off and attempts to appear unaffected. Very poorly.

"...Sorry. You must be cold like that. The cream probably settled already, so..." you mutter out without looking at him directly, but he cuts you off, the words leaving the tip of his tongue before he can think them through.

"It's fine," his tone is gruff. "I'm not cold."

Despite being aware that there is nothing inherently intimate about this situation, he still feels oddly exposed in front of you. The thought of you observing his bare skin out in the open only increases his already fast-paced heartbeat. After all the events of the night before, it feels... strange to feel his blood pumping in his temples, and it not being a result of something horrifying or life-threatening. He attempts to divert his eyes from you, but they persistently return back to your face. He was being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Though, your warmth was nothing like one coming from a flame. He wasn't scared of you burning him if he gets too close. No, rather, he was terrified of your gentle light to turn off, leaving him without its comforting warmth to grasp onto.

He can't help but focus on your lips in particular, already reminiscing about the moment you kissed his knuckles. His thoughts are now pretty much haunted by this one memory, replaying it incessantly like a broken record.

Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...

He repeats it to himself in his own head, but he finds it increasingly harder and harder to follow his own advice. His hands are clenched tightly on his lap, causing his bruised knuckles ache in protest. But it's all he can do to resists the urge to reach out to you, and...

"-Sorry," you suddenly repeat, your attention fully focused on his tightly clenched hands. Damn it, you probably think he's uncomfortable or something. He can see that guilty look in your eyes, and he hates it. He doesn't want you to look at him like that. "I... didn't mean to make things weird. Don't worry about it. I don't-"

Leon shakes his head, but keeps looking straight at your face dutifully. His heart is beating so fast that it seems like it could burst straight out of his chest any moment now, eager to show you how excited you truly make him with the smallest of things. It's becoming almost too much for him to handle the desire to kiss you. And not just your knuckles.

"No... it's not that," he protests in a slightly hoarse voice. His words stop as he shifts his eyes down to your lips again and then back up to meet your hesitant gaze, searching for something he can't really put his finger on. He is able to see every aspect of your face crystal clear in the soft light of the morning sun: the way your eyelashes create faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips, the subtle color flush on your skin. "You didn't make things weird. I just..."

Your lashes flutter, your body tensing ever so slightly as you finally take notice of his very apparent staring, causing Leon to hold his breath momentarily. A part of him expects to receive a scolding he probably deserves. But it never comes. Instead, an unexpected sense of tension settles between you, catching him completely off guard and leaving him uncertain about where this was going exactly. Or maybe he just doesn't want to acknowledge the truth. Even so, he allows it to persist and guide him without any resistance or attempts to distance himself from you. Not that he wants to resist this pull in the first place.

He can almost taste the saltiness of your skin on his lips. He can almost hear the soft sound of your breath. And he can almost sense the subtle scent that is uniquely yours. The emotional intimacy between you is almost too much for him handle. So, without much thought, he moves in and gently cups your cheek, lifting your face towards his, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to you.

"...Leon?"

The subtle sound of your voice uttering his name causes his heart to stop momentarily. He can see it in your eyes that you do understand the silent implication behind this sudden action of his. After all, clarification is not exactly necessary to catch on to what he trying to do here. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers sends a slight shiver through his body. Despite this, your eyes remain locked together, almost as if you were sharing a wordless conversation between each other.

Leon swallows. He gently strokes your lower lip with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of it beneath his fingertip. Even if it's chapped and dry from last night's events. His voice is just a soft whisper now as he voices the silent question that's on the forefront of his mind: "...Can I kiss you?"

There is a moment of hesitation between you, but you don't move to pull away or reject him. He can guess that you're mulling over your own thoughts and doubts in that pretty head of yours. Though he wishes he could know what you're thinking of right now. If you want this as much as he does. But he waits patiently for you to share your answer with him once you do find it. Whatever it may be.

And then, you give him a slow nod.

As you stare back at him, Leon feels a sudden tightness in his throat. He knows he's being a bit too emotional about all of this, but your little nod feels like an agreement, approval, and acceptance all at once. Without any further delay, he leans in and gently cups your other cheek now as well, holding your face in his palms, letting your breaths mix for just a smidge of a moment.

Is it a wise decision? Clearly not. You've just met. The fact that you were able to survive a dangerous and challenging situation together doesn't alter that fact. However... in a way, it still does. Leon feels secure with you. The unspoken trust built between you two is difficult to articulate in words. The kind of trust that can only form when you experience a challenging ordeal only you can understand the full extent of. Which is why he doesn't try to explain it. Not when you two can explore it through action, instead.

When he does finally lean towards you, you meet him halfway, much to his relief, your lips inevitably locking together lightly. He closes his eyes and drinks in the delicate sensation of warmth and comfort that comes from sharing this simple human contact with you. The sensation of your lips on his makes Leon's mind blissfully empty. He resists the urge to embrace you tightly and hold you close. Compared to the intense passion he feels burning within his chest, the kiss itself feels hesitant and almost innocent in nature. Nonetheless, it triggers a pleasant surge of heat in his veins. He can feel the warm of your hand on his skin as you place it atop of one of his own hands cradling your cheeks, causing his heart to beat even faster within his chest.

Your circumstances don't make it particularly romantic or mind-blowing. The kiss is a bit clumsy, as first kisses usually are, when you don't exactly know how to fall into step with the other person yet. Your lips are dry and cracked, just like his are, due to the previous night. There is even a faint taste of blood that can be felt in the kiss, as one of you definitely split their lip during the numerous falls you both endured. However, none of that is a major issue for him. If anything, it makes it more precious in his mind. How real and authentic it feels.

The kiss is a soft and lingering one that doesn't extend beyond that.

And when you eventually pull apart from one another, concluding the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Your hand remains on top of his, the touch bringing him a nice feel of wordless reassurance. That you're really there. That you did just kiss, and it wasn't just some weird trick of his frazzled mind.

You weren't going away. Nor were you asking anything of him with that kiss. It was just a kiss. No hidden meanings or agendas in mind. Somehow, that makes it all that much more meaningful for him.

There is a strange sense of vulnerability he has to get used to, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of his emotions causes his body to tremble slightly against you. He remains close to you like this for a couple of long minutes, unprepared for the enchanting moment to come to its inevitable end. He absorbs the subtle scent of your hair hitting his nose, the warm sensation of your skin on his, and the soothing sound of your breath. He longs for this moment to last, and finding his voice again after kissing becomes a rather difficult task.

You also exhale, calming down after that short but sweet moment of connection with him. You don't express much about what just happened between you. You don't think it's even necessary. You simply know that it was sincere and enjoyable. And it seems that Leon felt the same way, too. At least you hope he does. Whatever that meant for your relationship in the long run, you know you don't regret it. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments, staying close to him.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name in a low voice that sounds almost shy. You can't help but find the sound of him like this rather adorable, your heart giving out a subtle flutter in your chest.

Leon opens his eyes slightly, the blues of his irises meeting yours intently as you follow suit. The soft kiss you just shared is still running through your heart, leaving you feeling just slightly giddy. As you often do after kissing someone you like for the first time. And that dopey look of his is just too damn cute to bear.

So, you blurt out the first thing you that comes to mind. 

"...You know, I actually hate cops."

Leon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

...Alright, that was probably not the most romantic thing to say right after kissing him for the first time.

"Uh... Really?" he manages to ask, even though he's obviously still very much dazed from the kiss. Which is honestly kind of endearing, considering how it was just a short but sweet little kiss. You can't help but wonder how he'd look if you kissed him again, properly this time. How he would look at you if you were to lean in and kiss him senseless. But you don't do that. For now, at least. Either way, it's obvious that the emotional whiplash you just gave him with your silly comment only contributed to the stupefied look he's giving you. "But you just kissed one..."

Leon's lips form a small but genuine smile as he lets out a quiet little laugh, a clear hint of disbelief in his voice. You feel his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks gently as he continues to hold your face in his hands, the sensation warm and comforting to your heart.

"Huh. You're right. I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical today," you chortle, a small giggle leaving your lips in return. You can see his smile growing in response to your laugh, and it's a sight a bit too adorable for you right now.

He has a pretty smile.

"I guess you are," he agrees, his eyes briefly glancing over your face, as if he was taking in your features. Or maybe he was just marveling at how beat up you look. "But I don't mind. I think... I sort of like you being hypocritical. Just a little."

With another soft laugh, you gently squeeze his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to the side slightly and resting your face against his palm, practically nuzzling into a bit. You press his hand closer to your cheek and close your eyes for a moment, a content sigh leaving your lips. Your peaceful expression of serenity mirrors Leon's, as he looks on at you with that same sense of quiet satisfaction and solace that was filling the quiet space between you.

Your chest tightens as you feel his thumbs stroke your skin again, the touch gentle and light. The soothing warmth and softness of his skin on yours causes your heart to skip a beat. You suddenly find yourself seriously struggling to resist the urge to kiss him again. It wasn't just a passing curious thought anymore, but a genuine desire you are itching to fulfill. But, for now, you just exhale and enjoy this fragile moment as it is. At this very minute, all the chaos and peril you two have dealt with vanish from your mind at long last. Replaced by this tranquil, modest motel room, reserved only for you and him. At the very least, for this brief moment.

Unfortunately, your little exchange is abruptly interrupted by the earth-shattering sound of a door suddenly bursting open, none other than Claire entering the compact room without any warning given to either of you. That, or maybe you two were just far too lost in each other to hear the approaching footsteps or chatter. A peppy grin is brightening up the redhead's features as she strides in with no care in the world, seemingly far too engrossed into some vigorous discussion with Sherry to fully notice you quite yet. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, you'd probably comment on how buddy-buddy they looked: swaggering in hand-in-hand, almost like two sisters would. 

The entire space is quickly overpowered with the strong aroma of freshly cooked greasy food, and you immediately feel your stomach twist and turn in clear demand for some much-needed sustenance. The bags of what looked like your standard roadside diner takeout sure looked promising right about now.

"Rise and shine, dynamic duo! Breakfast's here- Oh."

As Claire's bright eyes inevitably land on the two of you, she stops right in her tracks, just blinking at you for a second or two. Sherry, in turn, appears to be just as surprised, not that you expected anything else at this point. 

...And you feel a strong urge to sink straight into the ground.

As if he's been burned, Leon abruptly jerks away from you and releases his hold on your face. Your heart pounds all the way up in your throat, and you can already feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face. Glancing over at Leon, he doesn't seem to be handling it all that much better, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in silent protest that just didn't form yet. Though, there is also a subtle hint of embarrassed annoyance flashing through his eyes as he meets Claire's look. A look that is no longer surprised, but instead, expecting. And a bit smug.

You're in for a questioning. 

As expected, she is quick to regain her cool, raising her brows at both of you and closing the door with her hips, an incredulous snort leaving her lips. You can already guess that she's not going to live this down for the two of you. Before you can open your mouth and stutter out some type of excuse that would hopefully sound decent, Leon beats you to it.

"Jesus Christ, Claire! Knock much?" he grumbles out in a raspy and slightly trembling voice. If it wasn't for the burning embarrassment raging inside your head, you would have thought that was cute. He isn't really fooling anyone.

"Excuse me," Claire muses in a slightly humorous manner. "Care to tell what's gotten you shirtless? Or... who?"

Now it's up to you to sputter as you stumble over your words to try and rectify the situation.

"I-I was just changing his bandages!"

Claire just laughs at that, with Sherry now joining in a fit of giggles. The sound is lighthearted in nature, though. Just harmless fun that just happens to be at your expense. Well, partially. Your only choice is to accept your defeat, hanging your head low with a flustered groan. Leon's embarrassment only increases as laughter rings out. He crosses his arms over his chest, a pout quickly taking form on his face.

"Ugh, you two really have a knack for bad timing. And... for the record, it's none of your business what we were doing," even though he tries to sound irritated, his flushed face and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips diminish the desired effect, making his effort useless.

"-Whatever you say, loverboy," Claire deadpans, giving you both a knowing smirk as she waves Leon off. It's apparent that she doesn't believe any of your shared excuses. Not that you can blame her. You'd probably act the same if you switched places. She takes her sweet time placing the warm fast-food bags on the nearest counter and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Anyway, you better get dressed before the grub gets cold and soggy."

In spite of all the embarrassment, you can't help but chuckle sheepishly and shake your head. Despite being flustered, it's almost... comforting to share such a normal, simple moment over some silly accident instead of a high-stakes situation. You'll take getting teased by Claire over running for your life any day.

You watch as Leon huffs and puffs at Claire fruitlessly. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath, unfolding his arms, and quickly walking across the room to pick up his discarded shirt from the ground. He hastily puts it back on, all while stealing a couple of glances back at you. You don't know if he's trying to subtle about it, but if he is, it's definitely not working. A small, almost bashful smile appears on his face as he does, similar to the one you give to your crush when you think they're not looking. It's cute. You can't help but return it with a smile of your own.

"Well I think you two look cute," Sherry joins in, her hands resting on her hips as her blue eyes dart between you two with eager curiosity. You can already tell that you're in for a game of 20 questions after this. Or something similar.

"Cute, huh...?" Sherry's charming comment seems to inspire Leon's bashful smile to grow in confidence while he looks down at her. He almost appears a bit cheeky, as raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick side-eyed look. "What do you think? Do we make a cute couple?"

"...Don't get cocky now," you huff out with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, prompting him and Claire to chuckle.

As you go to grab some much-needed food, you feel oddly light, both in mind and spirit. All the anxieties and uncertainties about your future seem to have eased away, letting you enjoy the peacefulness of now, instead of worrying about tomorrow.

Whatever happens next, you just know that everything will turn out fine.

As long as you stick together.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

“Yes,” says Edwin. “As inconvenient as the biannual reinterments are, one has to admire his commitment to remaining on this plane of existence until the Rapture.”

“We knock him down, but he gets back up again,” says Charles. With a grunt of effort, pulls the heavy, metal-bladed spade out of Edwin’s cast-iron umbrella stand. He swings it up and over his shoulder and trudges off to the Lady Defoliana Paraquat memorial garden, whistling Tubthumping as he goes.

This fic has enchanted me body and soul so I'm doing some scribbles for it 🥰💛

[collophora]

Last line challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like.)

Sorry I took my time to answer xo Thanks for tagging me @just-here-with-my-thoughts <3 <3 <3

Actually I can't show much cause all my wips are for fanzines or commissions but!

I can show you a hint of what I'm actually doing for @devinsisland apocalyptic AU zine hehe

Very sketchy 'cause some of theses were just ideas exploration I ended up throwing (they'll be cleaned and posted on social for bonus later probably)

Also follow the zine here: https://www.instagram.com/aftermathzine https://x.com/AFTERMATHzine

(not me changing a tag into a promo post xD)

I don't really know who to tag, always scared of bothering, so I'm gonna try hhhh @lightspringrain (I'm the worst, I'm tagging while you're on break so Hm, no pressure) @wrenkenstein (hello I love your art and your whole vibe apparently we're mutuals so *flies away*) @clownery-and-fuckery @electrikworm

@scarletv0id (Please ignore if you don't wanna) And mutual who see this post but I'm too shy to tag!

[reddbl]

This is a cover I’ve drawn for my own fic “The Officer from Osaka and the Armchair Detective.” In which Heiji works in the Tokyo police department and Shinichi is a consulting detective like Sherlock Holmes, except he rarely checks the crime scene himself. Due to his health condition, he can’t be participating in any more vigorous activity. So no more chasing after criminals for him. That’s his husband’s job anyway~

[ressonancee]

BF! WONWOO hanging out on lazy days 18+ mdi

lazy sundays were you completely favorite. everybody hated sundays, the dreaded week lurking the feeling of the rest day just ending.

but you learned to love sundays. sundays meant late and lazy breakfast in bed, it meant snuggle in hoodies all day, it meant not getting out of the house, it meant laying in the sofa all day reading with your boyfriend between your legs.

you started reading a book that your boyfriend and also bookworm gifted to you; "I just thought you would enjoy it" he said while giving it to you as he arrived from his last leg of his tour "I brought in a pretty bookshop in New York, it has a nice coffee in it, you would love it, we should go together in your next vacation" and your heart sweell nicely thinking about your boyfriend just going around New York thinking about you.

wonwoo rubbed himself against your stomach, claiming for your attettion. "this book is boring" he said, leaving the book on the floor. "I mean it's not boring but I already know who is the killer" he continued, putting his hand inside your hoodie and on your skin, making your heart buzz a little and making you shrink a little.

"mine is pretty fine, you made a good choice" you said ignoring your boyfriend lifting his hand to your rib cage and depositing a brief kiss against the line of your sweatpants.

"yeah? did you liked you present baby?" he said while his hand travelled through your body, his fingertips touching the valley between your bobs and resting against your neck. "i always think of you when i see pretty things."

"you know i liked wonu, i almost cried when you showed me the whole bag you brought back full of presents." you saying running your fingers thought his short hair, he almost never used liked that and you dont know why but made you more attatched to it. wonwoo laughed, that almost scoffing sound full of air.

"that's what my baby deserves" he kissed your stomach and retreated his hand just so he could grab you by the hips with both hands. "I'm such a nice boyfriend, and yet you leave me bored out of my mind because of a book." he said playing with the hem of your pants.

"you are acting like I ignored you for an hour." you finally bookmark the page of your book knowing that it is a lost fight. You are not reading a sentence anymore.

"not a hour" your boyfriend finally gets off the sofa just so he can take off your pants, he lays between your legs again and he presses a kiss against you clothed pussy making you catch your breath. "a few minutes at least"

"not even five minutes baby" you complain while opening more your legs so your boyfriend gets comfortable, he just squirm a little and plant his big hands in your thighs.

"more than twenty for sure." he says while he travel his fingers against your clothed pussy, putting more pressure at your clitoris making you whimper pathetically.

"not that much." somehow even to yourself your voice sound pitiful, wonwoo barely did anything to you and somehow you are almost begging already.

"did so." he says without leaving his fingers against your pussy, and you can almost feel his fingertip through the cloth, the way your wetness is spreading somehow makes you feel that the cloth is getting thinner, almost disappearing but still not enough. "I love watching you." he pauses and presses a kiss in your pussy, and you feel his wet tongue against you. "you are so pretty all over, I just can't take my eyes off you" he says as he presses his fingers against your entrance.

"not fair." you protest while your fingers find solace in the pillow by your head.

"what baby?" he tuts. "cant i find my girlfriend pretty?" he says while he finally pushes your panty to the side. he pinches your pussy. "so fucking pretty and so fucking messy."

"wonu" you protest again feelling a little faint, a little dumb like you always gets when wonwoo talks to you like that, with his voice low like he is telling you a secret making your insides coil.

"fucking love your pussy" he says before finally putting his mouth against you, hot breath fanning over your pussy until you feel his tongue between your folds. and its like being submersed in a way, searching for air but not getting enough. wonwoo pushes your legs up and you come back to reality a little bit, the way his fingers presses against your flesh anchors you.

"god" wonwoo murmurs. "i could live like that" he says while his fingers left your thigh and comes to grope at your pussy, pressing his palm against your puffy lips. "could live eating you out" he says against your thights while you feel his fingers at your entrance, and he push just a little, making you go a tad bit crazy, putting your arms above your head and arching your back, trying to make his finger go in just a little bit more. "don't worry baby I will give It to you."

And you just feel a little bit more out of your mind, a little more hot, a little more denraged, the way his speaks to you just make you squirm because his voice is so full of adoration, like every word is just full of lust that make you clench and you just give up feeling his hot mouth against you, his tongue going against your folds. He keeps lapping at your pussy like he is getting so fucking drunk, you lock eyes with him and he just suck your clit while you feel his second finger aagainst you.

"baby please-" you finally beg and you dont even need to finish because wonwoo just knows what you need and his just put his second finger in you, and in a way it feels so much but not enough, you feel so tight, like every muscle of your body is working. You give up, you just need a little bit more, so you trail your hands against yourself, searching, you put your hand inside your hoodie, finding your boobs and squeezing.

wonwoo mouth leaves your pussy and you whine, his free hands lifting up your hoodie so he can watch you playing with yourself. His eyes travel between your hands and pussy like he can't make a choice. "fuck" he laughs a little "you are just so hot." and he just bite the skin at your hips. "so wet and taking my fingers so well" he changes his position and presses his hand against your tigh so you open your legs for him. "look at you" he coos "you have such a pretty cunt." He says while he keeps fucking your with his fingers. You whine again, feeling desperated, hasty, but you are just at the end of the cliff almost falling and wonwoo just know, he takes his other hand and just pinch at your clit making your moan. "come on baby, you can do it, just a little one and i give you my cock hun? just know you gonna take it so well gonna split you open in a little bit."

and you just fall apart thinking about the way his dick would feel.

[phoneycam]

(brainrot 5(?))))

Soulmates experience the same nervous or involuntary tics at the same time.

It all starts as an innocent inside joke from the 212 troopers. How their high officer where the best and one of the key proves of it was how in tune they are with eachother. That thought slowly evolved with every interaction they were able to witness until it turned into a kind of game, trying to understand just how deep the synchrony went. Space bingo if you will.

1.

Ever since he decided to have a beard, he touches it. at first it was because of the new sensation, later to show it of as one should do, then to display knowledge in hopes to seem more wise and finally evolving in his "in deep thoughts" pose.

It was on the early battles when it first happened. The clones weren't comfortable enough yet to being openly without their buckets and so, the moment both officers moved to rest their chin on their hand, Cody hit his helmet causing him to make an aborted movement pretending that he was trying to adjust it when the general turns to look at him. There is a pregnant pause around the holotable before Obi-Wan turns back to the holotable and the commander has to survive the rest of the meeting with the constant snickers from his brothers inside his helmet.

2.

In times of high stress situations he tends to scratch the back of his head, particularly the place where his padawan braid was, an unconscious tick he picked first from his time in Melidaan. He got to overcome it over the years when he came back to the temple, only to pick it back up after Qui-Gon died and he became a knight.

The first time the troopers note it is in Christophsis. Anakin is being he's usual reckless self causing Obi-Wan the go grey early with his invisible ship against a hole separatist fleet, and he doesn't even realize he's hand moving up to pass it over the back of his head, nor that his commander repeated the exact same movement at the exact same time, too distracted with the fight in sight. The other troopers on the bridge however? they did notice.

3.

This one happened before they where about to land in a highly unknown planet with an astonishing lake of information. They were walking into a trap, not that they knew at the time that.. or well.. not until both General and Commander deepened their frowns and mumbled quietly "I have a bad feeling about this". This time they did notice it tho and turned to look at eachother with a surprised look while the soldiers around them are gapping with a collective thought of "Oh kark we are so doomed" and "lmao check another one for the team."

4.

A defect of using a helmet for so long, is that you start forgetting how to keep a straight face and our dear commander, starts slipping his controlled mask especially when faced with stupid decisions. This is one of the main reasons him and Anakin do not get allong well. Because one of the first times they were all reunited strategizing their next move, Anakin decided to offer his brilliant idea and almost cried when faced with the pure power of the combined disgust Obi and Cody were inadvertently showing.

Ahsoka and Rex thought it was hilarious, Obi-Wan had to apologies multiple times before his formed padawan stopped sulking and demanding Obi-Wan to spend less time with his commander and the rest of the troopers just checked another mark.

5.

Kamino has never and will never be an easy place to live in. The facility was a nightmare and no one knew this better than the clones themselfs, between the kaminioan, the trainers and the Alpha batch, life was a challenge and any little quirk can be a dead sentence if you're not careful enough. Cody knows this and learns to deal with it.

It's in the middle of a peace negotiation with the local authority when they noticed it.

It was a small group for this mission, just Cody, Obi-Wan, Boil and Waxer accompanying a Coruscant team of negotiators. The prime minister of the planet was being unpleasant during the whole meeting, with nasty comments, senseless demands and baseless accusations towards eveyone. All bark, no bite.

The jedi was leading the negotiations putting him in front of everyone with the commander by his side; Waxer and Boil standing just behind them notice a pattern pretty quickly. Everytime the minister said something bad about the jedi or the clones, both of their officers would each start drumbeating their fingers with their thumb. A small thing that no one else could notice because their hands were behind their backs, but remarkable enough for the troopers witnessing it as a checkable tic.

6.

Dex notice the next one.

Obi-Wan likes to take every clone he can to visit Dex's reastaurant at least once, but the most regular companion is always the cammander. Not that it bothers him, in fact, he is rather fond of the good commander, but he can't help but notice how everytime the principal door opens a little bit harder than needed, they both will tense up and inmediatelly look at eachother.

And yeah idk, i just think it's neat as an idea. I can imagine a lot more of little scenes like these. Maybe some time latter both realize, maybe they know, maybe they will purposely start doing some to just mess with the troops, maybe it would save the galaxy somehow... just saying..

[wine-wrtj]

The party at the Prom

But soberness turns out to be the friends we made along the way

I literally just got possessed and woke up with my this piece finished two weeks later

Mind you as much as deranged teenager I am, for everything to be ✨legal✨ you could tell this is my self-indulgent polish Byler au. Because I was inspired to draw this after my school’s prom and I know NOTHING about American proms lmao. Anyway here’s some more context:

And yeah Will is totally the person to run the fuck away randomly and Elmax would probably be on the side quest. Somewhere outside of the state. Most likely.

[cringefail-clown]

i think my favourite tidbit ive written so far for cam cafe au is the Hal's Real Name debacle, bc in it hal is a name he got for himself when he first watched 2001 space odyssey at 13. jake first catches a wind of it when dave calls hal "dee", but hals like nah im not telling you it requires lvl 69 friendship and youre at best on lvl 3 so get fucked noob. everyone at the cafe and all jake and hals friends know but everyone decides to fuck with jake and not tell him. its a constant subplot through the story until its finally revealed at the end and i can tell you, yall aint ready for what the name is

[paint-it-red-and-black]

"oh, Charles, you're such an angel."

Max hears it often. he picks up the phrases chirped by the girls around. it was said by fans, PR managers and once he had even heard it from a Ferrari mechanic. and Max totally and utterly disagrees.

Charles is no angel. on and off the track.

he is a bloody menace.

because angels don't look like that. with a slight squint when there's a storm brewing in the depths of green eyes in the middle of a sunny day.

angels don't get so angry you're afraid to approach. angels don't hold grudges. angels are quick to forgive.

angels don't smile like that. smirking, a little arrogant, covering it with their innocence. and showing a little of the soft tip of the tongue between their teeth.

angels are measured. they take their time. they are neat and tidy. they never make a mess of crumpled sheets and clothes.

angels are gentle. angels never squeeze skin until it bruises, bite until it darkens, or pull hair so hard it brings tears to the eyes.

and even more so, angels don't moan. not painfully, but sweetly, like melted chocolate with marzipan that leaves marks on your fingers. hot. frank. naked. absolutely wasted.

angels don't expose their necks, don't bare collarbones, giving more space for someone’s lips to leave marks.

angels don't press closer, scratching back until it’s bleeding. angels don’t choke on passion and never create their own.

but he falls asleep in the most angelic way. with his nose against Max's neck and the blanket pulled up to his eyes. he throws an arm and a leg over the body next to him, pulls closer, smiles warmly, and lowers his long fluffy eyelashes.

people easily fall for it.

"oh, Charles, you're such an angel."

but Max knows that Charles isn't an angel at all. he's a real demon in the flesh. but it's much easier to love him like that.

[daeluin]

there's a room in a hotel in new york city where the chips are free and the girls are pretty or whatever that twink in fall out boy sang

[joeytime]

Maxiel Hogwarts Au...

If you asked Max what he thought of Hogwarts, he would likely make a joke about pigs and insult their quidditch teams.

He isn't sure it's smart to do that now, in the middle of the Hogwarts' grand hall, completely surrounded by Hogwarts' students and staff. He isn't sure he could escape even if he had his broom.

"Wow, you really hate Hogwarts." The dreaded hat says atop his hair.

Shut up! Max thinks furiously at it. Get out of my head!

Everyone stares intensely at Max, not daring to breathe while the fate of the member of the national quidditch team is being decided. Even the teachers are at the edge of their seats, other than Dumbledore, he seems to know where Max will inevitably end up.

"Little quidditch champion. Everyone is expecting" The hat says, as if it's life of forever moving from head to head to call one of four words is somehow a greater destiny than Max's.

It's not. Max knows he will go on to succeed in life, and win as many quidditch championships as he wants and then retire on an island in The Maldives with a butt load of cash while the hat is left in a dusty room, waiting for it's yearly use. Max wants to reach to rip it up but it would not be wise to do so in front of Dumbledore himself. His hands stay in his lap, frown etched on his face.

"Impatient. Immature." Max's fingers twitch slightly. There is only so much backtalk one can take from a hat.

"Violent and uncaring, wherever will I put you?" Max doesn't agree with that description, he cares plenty, about winning that is.

"Foolish. Foolish boy." It doesn't hurt, Max has heard those words plenty of times.

Max sulks.

It's a beat of silence before the suspense reaches its climax. "Hufflepuff! " The hat hollers, not bothering to consult Max on it's decision. Which is very rude and impolite.

The entire room erupts into chaos, screams of "What! " and "No way! No way!" echo throughout the hall.

Max can't help but agree, he thought he might end up in Gryffindor or Slytherin, maybe Ravenclaw if he was super unlucky. But Hufflepuff? His father was going to disown him. The media are going to have a field day. Well they were going to already, regardless of which house Max was put in.

Dumbledore moves to pull the hat off of Max, the treacherous thing whispers one last time: "Things will make sense in time. Be patient. Do not mope."

Max doesn't mope. Verstappens can't mope, so he doesn't.

Dumbledore gently guides a slightly speechless Max to the Hufflepuff table, pushing him into the seat before winking and walking off.

Max wants to burn down this school.

Cheers erupt from the Hufflepuff table, hands coming to pat him on the back and fawn over him.

The other tables seem miserable at the prospect of losing out on a quidditch champion.

"Oh my god! Hi! Hi! Oh my god! It's you!" A boy excitedly chatters to his left, other students crowd around him and Max suddenly finds that he can't breathe. It's like he's small again, after being knocked off his broom by an overly excited big kid. He had fallen to the ground, too exhausted and overwhelmed to get back up.

His father had been mad, really mad. He hadn't slept well again after that.

"Guys! Guys! He doesn't look so good. " Whoever that is, is definitely right, Max can hardly breathe, he tries to use the breathing technique his father taught him after his first match, control his breathing. It doesn't work, it only causes the panic and urgency in his veins to surge. It did work, it's purpose was to put him on guard, not calm down.

He curls into himself, hands around his ears to protect from the deafening sound of crowds cheering. His bubble of personal space is of course pried and poked at. Fans never had any self awareness when it came to these matters and his father never did have sympathy for personal space.

Hands are pried away from him, he can hear outraged screeching at the action. His own quidditch team's screams when he was 6 years old and pulled away to join the older kids. They thought it wasn't fair that a small boy climbed the ranks faster than they did.

"Hey! Hey! Everyone back up right now!" The entire opposing team bombarding him in an attempt to stop him. The referee's reprimand that fell on deaf ears.

The people at his sides are replaced and gentle hands hold him back up, out of the ball he curled himself into.

Max doesn't dare look up, too afraid at the thought of seeing his father's judgemental look.

"Hey, are you okay? " Max turns his head, soft, gentle, warm eyes, concerned. Jos was never concerned, he was the uncaring one! Not Max!

"I'm fine. " A repeated response, practiced again and again every time he came home to his mother.

The teen with the soft eyes gestures for another boy to sit on Max's other side. The boy opposite Max looks on in concern.

"Hello. I'm Daniel Riccardo, I'm a prefect of Hufflepuff, it's nice to meet you." The gentle boy says, eyes still filled with concern.

"Max Verstappen. " Max manages to choke out.

"The boy on your left is Yuki Tsunoda and that's Lando Norris." Daniel gestures to the boy sitting opposite Max, who waves shyly.

The ruckus Max's sorting caused calms down and everyone settles down to listen to Dumbledore's welcome back speech which luckily does not mention Max.

Max feels strange between Riccardo and Tsunoda, like dread wrapped in false cotton. Norris also peers at him from time to time, creep.

They're sent back to their dorms. Max tells Riccardo that he can get there on his own but the older boy frowns and insists that he takes Max. Max thinks his father would be disappointed at his complacency but he doesn't have the strength to fight it.

Riccardo leads him to the kitchen, Max wants to snap some insult about him being a goody two shoes and how this is none of his business. He holds his tongue.

Riccardo gestures to a specific barrel, looking more worn out than the ones around it. He taps a certain beat, perhaps it's a secret code. That's childish, Max decides, they are not children playing in a fort.

The barrel swings open.

Max grimaces at the small tunnel.

"Here, you try tapping it." Riccardo puts Max's hand to the barrel.

Max repeats the rhythm perfectly. Memory exercises were part of his training.

Once Riccardo is satisfied, he points at the tunnel, almost as if he wants Max to crawl through it.

Max scrunches his nose, seriously? The older boy points more urgently and Max relents, shoving himself through the tunnel.

Well, not shoving, he's not really big, a fact his father loathed, putting him on diets with large sums of proteins and even attempting to use transfiguration spells before it was put to a stop by his mother.

Max wished his mother had not stopped his father. Maybe he would have an excuse not to join this god forsaken house.

It's an agonizing 5 second crawl before he pops out the other end right in front of Lando Norris, the boy before.

Daniel appears behind him, putting a hand on Max's shoulder.

"So Max, this is the Hufflepuff house. You know Yuki and Lando. That's Oscar, Nico and Valtteri." Riccardo urges the boys to come forward.

"It's Verstappen. " Max declares, Riccardo quirks an eyebrow and the rest of the boys look equally confused.

"Hi! I'm Lando! I'm like a huge fan, do you mind signing this for me? " The boy's yellow robes are somehow orange.

Max's PR training kicks in and he smiles one of those sickly sweet smiles that his father loves to wipe off his face before ordering him to smile again. His posture straightens and he reaches a hand around the younger boy's shoulders, patting him on his back once, twice. Just like he rehearsed.

"Sure! " His tone is so obviously a faux sweet as he reaches to retrieve the black marker from his back pocket. The boy has stars in his eyes and Max feels guilty, he always does. He's a fraud.

He signs the hat from his national team, the one he left behind.

He wishes he didn't.

"Hey, are you okay Max? " Riccardo asks, looking weird again.

"I'm doing great, how are you? " His PR trainer said asking back these questions were endearing, cute. Max's father had mocked him for that act, his trainer had been fired after that.

"How about I bring you to your room? Would you like that?" Riccardo asks, Max smiles again, nodding.

"Sure." Norris waves enthusiastically as Riccardo leads him out of the common room and into his private room.

"Are you alright? Max?"

"Call me Verstappen."

"Verstappen. Are you alright?"

"You can go, Riccardo. "

"... Call if you need anything."

When the prefect leaves, Max wants nothing but to burst into tears. He flops onto the bed.

The next day he drags himself out of bed. Even if classes don't start till 9 and the sun hasn't risen yet.

Jos expected him to continue his strict training regime. He was almost tempted to skip it and lie to his father but he thought he better not after his humiliating sorting from yesterday.

Now, alone, Max can see the Hufflepuff room properly. It's... It's all gentle lighting, none of the bright fluorescent lights his room had. The chairs looked comfy and the many plants lazing around the common room tempts him to join them.

Perhaps that would be a better fate, turning into a plant to live the rest of his life in the common room. His hand lingers on his wand, mind on a spell his professor taught him when he was just 9. He didn't.

When he had crawled out of the Hufflepuff room, fully dressed, broom in hand, the sun was just peaking from the horizon.

The halls are empty, some portraits mutter as he walks by. His father's portraits never moved, other than those instructed to. For example, a painter that never stopped moving his brush or a surfer never to take a break from the sea.

Making his way to the Hogwarts field, he stretched, slow and patient. His bones crack from the exhausting day he had before.

The field is decent sized, not as big as the one he played in during national championships, bigger than the one his father made him run laps around till he fainted.

He glides through the air easily, flying comes easily to him. If he were to be given his own time and freedom he thinks he would likely still be a top player in the school leagues.

It's better that he was hurled up though. Better to have reached the top by sheer force of his father's training.

He thinks about his national team, he's a reserve, too young to play officially but the team has him in some practices and he attends smaller competitions for them. Max suspects it's more about having a claim on Max when he comes of age.

He's 15, he still has 3 years to choose which team he wants to go to. By then, he will make his own choice. He will not do whatever pleases his father anymore.

The golden snitch twinkles near the end of the field. Max pretends not to see it.

It is fun, sometimes, tricking the golden snitch, allowing it a false sense of security. Like a tiger cub playing with a cricket.

His father would get mad at him if he did it for too long, he was upset his son couldn't catch it at once. Which Max could, he just didn't see the fun of it.

The fluttering golden ball is in his hands before it can even think of escaping.

Max briefly wonders if the snitch can possibly think, he lets it flutter away, repeating his game once again.

In the golden light of the sun and shaded path of the clouds, the wind whizzes past his ears, he falls into the familiar rhythm of flying, sometimes he makes his own obstacle courses, weaving through imaginary hoops.

By the time the sun reveals itself fully to watch Max fly, he realizes that a crowd has gathered around under him, star-struck Hogwarts students watching, mouths open and everything.

He flushes slightly, he may have had many adoring fans due to his membership in the national team and young age but come on! These were his peers.

Max lowers down, checking his watch to see that it is indeed 8.30am and he has to run if he wants to get to class not drenched in sweat.

He waves slightly to the crowd, zipping to the house dorm even though he's probably breaking several school rules.

He knocks the tune and enters quickly, still high from the adrenaline of flying.

He climbs out of the tunnel only to come face to face with Daniel Riccardo, his face stern and stony.

"Verstappen! You can't just sneak out like that!" Daniel's expression softens when he sees Max.

Max knows he feels pity even if Riccardo knows nothing about his life.

"I of course did not sneak out, I left my room and went to the field." Max doesn't think early hour training counts as sneaking out, going to parties in the dead of the night is sneaking out.

"Max, we were worried. I went into your room and you weren't there. Thought you'd been kidnapped by the other houses to play quidditch for them or something... "

Max considers this briefly, Riccardo knocking on his door gleefully, freezing when he doesn't get an answer. Did his blood pressure spike? Did he throw Max's door open in desperation only to find the room empty?

Max grimaces.

"I went to go training... Sorry..." Max stands awkwardly, hands by his side like a child being punished by a parent.

Riccardo sighs. Max wants to cry.

"Please forgive me, I'm of course sorry, I will do anything!" Max cringes inside, begging with someone other than his father is a foreign concept.

Riccardo has a cheeky smile on his face, Max is almost scared.

"I'll forgive you... Only if you call me Daniel!"

Max groans inwardly, well he's also partly relieved but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

"What will it be Max? Will you call me the d word? Or will you suffer in my never ending spite! "Daniel's grin grows.

" Fine. "

" Fine, who? "

"Fine. Daniel."

Max flushes, weird.

Daniel looks elated.

[lemonlokkich]

Writing prompt idea: the Chain is in Skyloft and Sun is being mischevious and encouraging the Links to do daring/risky things like paraglide off Skyloft or catch and ride a wild loftwing

Thank you for the prompt! Hope I did the vision justice.

Divine mischief:

When Legend met Sun he had expected her to be the picture of grace and patience. Perfect in every way as Sky had eagerly described her.

As perfect as a goddess and as wise as any Zelda.

Legend had realized that this rosey view of the girl was quite false as he watched Sun shove Sky off of the floating island right In front of their eyes upon their sweet reunion.

Sky had screamed.

Sun had laughed, no, not laughed, cackled.

It was a terrifying few moments before a streak of bright red shot through the sky and caught their chosen hero, who apperantly had forgotten to mention his loftwing could catch him on command.

Apparently the direct incarnation of the goddess Hylia had quite the mischievous streak to her, and Legend had no issue sitting back and watching it all unfold.

The first victim after Sky had surprisingly enough been Time. Sun had a talent for convincing, and convinced she did.

Their sort-of leader stood on the very edge of the skyloft, a padded tunic wrapping around his body to keep him warm against the harsh winds instead of his usual armor, there was no need to be armed to the teeth in such a lofty place.

The one eyed man had been conversing with Sky's sweetheart (much to Sky’s jealous grumblings) not even a moment before, and now they seemed to be watching the bland open expanse of sky like hawks.

Time seemed suspiciously tensed, as if preparing for something-

Sun shouted something, pointing.

Time jumped.

Nearby, Legend heard Warriors scream.

Legend would never admit that he tensed, sitting up slightly from where he had laid in his appointed lawn chair watching it all unfold.

What was Sun thinking?

Better yet, was the old man thinking?

Time didn't have a loftwing like Sky did.

Not even a few moments after, something giant, feathered and brightly coloured shot upwards and beyond skyloft, a certain blond man seated firmly on its bare back.

He met Sun's eyes and she winked at him before jumping off of the sky islands herself and flying after time on her own purple loftwing.

Legend shuddered, wondering who the next victim would be.

. End .

If you're in the mood to read more silly stories of mine don't hesitate to send me a funny Lu prompt in my ask box or visit me over on my AO3 account: LemonLokkich!

Thanks for reading!

[saelterlude]

Us, In(tense)

Summary: On a random day in the studio, high school seniors Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang are studying for their exams. The subject they’re studying? English. 12 short prose, exploring Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang’s thoughts and relationship through the English tenses.

Read my new fic!! I worked really hard on it. Click on the title!

It is exactly what it said on the tin, a Link Click fic seen from all the 12 English tenses.

It's a little bit of slice-of-life with a flavor of humor, fluff, and angst. Right before shiguang fluff week starts in 2 weeks.