#ALSO THE FIRST FIC I WROTE THIS YEAR

[setmeatopthepyre]

Third Act [ now also on Ao3]

They've just evacuated the last of the factory workers when Incident Command calls for total evacuation. Structural integrity can no longer be guaranteed, everybody out. Eddie, who has their patient's other arm draped over his shoulders as they help the man limp to the nearest ambulance, grins at Buck. "Now that's what I call perfect timing."

"Yeah," Buck agrees, maybe a beat too slow, distracted by the number on the turnouts that just darted past them. The name under the 217 started with the wrong letter, the person's shoulders too narrow, height not quite right. Not that he's looking. Not that he's been looking. Not that it would matter if he was. With the enormity of the factory and the spread of the fire they have on their hands, the chances of running into a particular individual are small. Besides, if he's here, he's more than likely at the other end of the staging area, with the helicopters that are being refueled and awaiting instruction. Not that Buck's been looking. Or paying attention to any of that. At all.

They've just handed over their patient to the paramedics when their radios crackle to life once more, this time to confirm that all first responders who had entered the building are safe and accounted for.

"Thank God."

Buck turns to find Bobby has come up behind them, has clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder, a relieved smile lighting up his face under his helmet. And. Yeah. Buck smiles with him, feels terrible for a moment for being so preoccupied when he should just be damn grateful for how their day - night, now - has panned out. Despite the enormous structure, despite how fast the fire spread, despite the upgrade from a three to a four alarm fire when it became incredibly clear the building was not up to code, despite the flammable materials housed in the far end of the structure, (despite the whir of helicopter blades overhead reminding Buck of him, despite the way he had to force himself not to stop and listen when a headcount for the 217 went out over the radio) they got everyone out alive. Some of the factory workers were in critical condition, others would be touch-and-go for a while, but they got them out alive and that was all any of them could ask for.

Perhaps it was too big an ask.

There had been a few moments in Buck's life in which he'd wondered if the universe had it out for him, was just waiting for him to be happy, let down his guard a little, so that it could pull the rug out from under him and send him sprawling. Choking on breadsticks on Valentine's Day. Choking on blood at his own welcome back party. Choking on his own nickname in his own loft as. As he walked out the door.

It feels like he's choking again. Buck watches the faces around him fall when dispatch tells them they were wrong, that there's still two people inside, on the top floor. When the IC responds that there's nothing to be done, the lower floors are ready to cave in, it's too unsafe. When a familiar voice crackles over the radio, saying there's a chance, if they land a helicopter on the roof, get the last two people out from there. That he'll do it.

"Absolutely not, firefighter pilot Kinard. That roof is ready to go any minute now, and you want to land a bird on it? That's a suicide mission. Stand down, that's an order."

There's a static crackle, as if someone, as if he, is weighing his options before he speaks. Buck doesn't breathe. Doesn't think he could if he wanted to.

"If there's any chance they can be saved, I have to try."

And Bobby meets his eyes, still tries, "Buck-", but they both know there's no version of this moment in which Buck doesn't grimace apologetically, doesn't turn, doesn't run faster than he's ever ran before.

He's gone, long strides, lungs burning, everyone and everything he passes a blur. He bumps into someone, yells "Sorry!", he thinks, isn't actually sure that's what he does, eyes set on the rotor blades looming dark against the orange cast of the fire in the distance. It's hard to tell if they're moving, what with how the light shifts in the dark, what with how his vision has become narrowed to that single point, and the dull roar in his ears could be his own blood pounding, could be the commotion that comes with a scene like this, could the be panic rising like bile in his throat.

For one insane moment, he thinks he can hear the sweeping crescendo of an orchestra, thinks, hysterically, like sprinting through an airport in the third act of a romcom. Thinks, I should tell Tommy. Realizes what he's hearing is that dull roar shifting into the high whine of rotor blades gaining momentum and thinks, Oh, god, Tommy. And then, in a blink, he's fighting the dust in his eyes and being buffeted by wind and his hands find purchase on the titanium hull and he's hauling himself inside.

With the wind gone, it's like he's suspended in stillness for a moment. Stillness, not silence, because helicopters are loud and the sound is everywhere, like a physical sensation. Or maybe that's just how it feels to be in close proximity with Tommy again. Tommy, who is staring straight ahead, punching buttons, flipping a switch, and Buck isn't sure Tommy's even aware of his presence until Tommy's reaching back, headset in hand, not looking at him at all, gaze still firmly on the dashboard.

Even when Buck has the headset on, the roar of the engine finally dropping away, Tommy doesn't acknowledge him immediately. The set of his shoulders is stiff, determined, defensive. He lets out a sigh. "What are you doing here, Buck?"

Buck carefully ignores the name, ignores the way Tommy still can't look at him. Squares his shoulders, even if Tommy can't see it. "I'm going with you."

There is a moment in which Tommy doesn't respond, simply finishes the last of his pre-flight checks. When he speaks, his voice is carefully deadpan. "You know we're probably going to die out there."

Buck can't help it, shoots back before he can think about it. "Figured this way I can prove I want you to be my last."

It works. Finally, Tommy turns. Meets his eyes. Breathes out. "Evan."

And Buck knows it's a ridiculous moment to smile, but it's like a weight falls away from him and he can feel his chest expand in a way it hasn't been able to since "See you around, Buck."

"Like you said," he amends. "If there's a chance at all, I have to try."

Buck doesn't think he's imagining the spark of hope in Tommy's eyes, the twitch of a smile, before Tommy turns back to his controls and the ground falls away beneath them.

[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.

[moeblob]

Yeah! I haven't read any fics focusing on them but I have seen that they exist! And also there's like a five sentence interaction in a fic I read ages ago that lives rent free in my brain. I think about it all the time when I draw Sixty.

[littlefankingdom]

The Batman fandom infantilizing a near 30 years old white man taking in a child, saying he was a brother more than a father as if he wasn't a full grown adult taking in a child he could have birthed, but parentifying a brown young adult taking in his brother pre-teen for less than a year, saying he was a father more than a brother (only a year is barely enough but ok), or saying he was more a father to his other brothers than Bruce, when he met them when he was 18 and 21 is making me uncomfortable, ngl.

Like, Bruce is a "kid" when he became Dick's guardian when he canonically was over 25 (he started being Batman at 25), and a brother to him when he raised him for 10 years (and Dick probably has not many memories from before Bruce now), but Dick is a "father" to Damian he only had as his charge for less than a year, half of which they were fighting each others??? Make it make sense???

[crossthread]

No jokes here. The Navy’s best pilot and the Navy’s best admiral. Between them, eight air-to-air combat kills and five stars. These were men who commanded respect with or without your approval. This was the picture of ruthless competence.

Debriefing (& Other Stories) • part 2 of Easier Done Than Said by @compacflt

[mildarka]

dug up some old Nightmare art from 2 years ago

[owl-with-a-pen]

They could’ve been anywhere for New Year. Literally anywhere – no one was going to blink an eye if you turned up in The Bahamas thirty seconds before midnight with Supergirl as a best friend. In fact, Nia had lost count of the party invites she’d received from acquaintances at best just for being in Kara’s general social circle.

The first proper year since Kara’s identity reveal had gone global and, suffice to say, the dust hadn’t settled just yet.

But no invite came without expectation. In this case, that Supergirl would be a part of the package. Everyone wanted a spectacle. They wanted the suit, the show, the fanfare. Even CatCo’s office party felt a little too intense for Nia’s liking. While most of their co-workers had relaxed into the notion of having Supergirl as their boss, that didn’t stop journalists at rival news stations from practically clawing the doors down, all hungry for the latest scoop into the life of Kara Zor-El.

So, they didn’t spend New Year’s Eve on a beach or a yacht, the roof of a skyscraper or even at CatCo. There was only one place that would’ve felt right – the only place that mattered. Being with the people that mattered.

Which was why Nia found herself snuggled up with Brainy on the Tower’s couch by 5pm. Super suit officially retired for the evening, she lounged about with the rest of her friends in comfortable civilian clothes, wine glass in hand and like a zillion different party games strewn across the coffee table.

Lena and Brainy had both spent the better part of the afternoon poring over the game instructions with the same sort of life-or-death intensity usually reserved for their day jobs, but Nia wasn’t about to complain. Brainy was on her team, after all, which meant that whatever they got around to playing, they were totally going to kill it. She and Brainy were already sat at the champion spot on the game night board – really, the others didn’t stand a chance. Brainy didn’t get all the credit for that, either. Nia’s powers came with some added benefits – like dreaming up specific strategies or figuring out the rules to games they hadn’t even thought of playing yet. She’d gotten pretty good at it, in fact, and no matter what Alex said, it was not cheating.

So long as she didn’t get caught.

“So,” Alex said as she grabbed a beer from the cooler, clinking her bottle against Kara’s glass as she passed. “Your first year without a secret identity. Better or worse than you thought it’d be?”

Kara pulled a face, hiding behind her glass. “Can I answer that after midnight?”

“Staller,” Alex teased, settling down next to Kelly who had already claimed a spot around the coffee table.

“Hey—not fair,” Kara said, speeding over to join them. “I shouldn’t be the only one answering that question, anyway. A lot has happened this year. I mean, the DEO officially started up again, you and Kelly got that new house.” She pointed to Nia and Brainy emphatically. “And you two – you got engaged!”

Nia grinned, leaning forward. “Oh, you mean this?” she asked, brandishing her new Legion ring with pride.

Alex laughed. “We get it, already, your fiancé bestowed you with the power of flight.”

Brainy scoffed. “This ring offers more than just flight.” He scooped Nia’s hand into his as though to demonstrate, linking their fingers together. Nia’s grin widened. “It’s also a psychic blocker and comms device, as well as offering protection against extreme climates found at higher altitudes, otherwise compromising—”

“Show off,” Alex cut in, poking out her tongue.

“Well, I think our engagements rings were pretty perfect,” Kelly said, pecking her wife on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Alex pouted, “but flight.”

Kelly waved her off. “I get nauseous flying anyway.” She prodded the backpack stowed beneath the coffee table with her foot, giving some shape to the folded shield tucked inside. “Guardian stays grounded for a reason.”

“Yes.” Brainy eyed Kelly warmly, sitting upright. “Let me know if that ever changes.”

“I appreciate the suit upgrades, Brainy, really,” Kelly assured him. “But you couldn’t pay me to strap on a pair of wings, or a flight ring for that matter.”

“Understood,” Brainy said, although Nia could tell he hadn’t quite put his flight plans to bed just yet.

When he relaxed back against the sofa, she took the opportunity to claim his lap as her new headrest, making herself comfortable. Their hands remained entwined across her stomach, Brainy’s thumb working gentle circles over her knuckles.

Just before anyone could get too comfy, the elevator doors dinged from across the room and Lena stepped into the loft, her face obscured by an intimidatingly tall stack of pizza boxes. “Pizza’s here,” she announced, struggling to see around the veritable tower in her hands. “There’s more downstairs if anyone has an arm to spare.”

“Well timed, Lena,” J’onn said with a smile. He was already jogging forward, half-phased through the Tower’s floorboards. “I’ll get the rest.”

“Oh,” Lena called out before he could disappear, “I also had to leave the wine in your office.”

J’onn winked before melting through to the level below.

“Prioritising food over alcohol; who are you and what have you done with Lena Luthor?” Alex teased, rising to greet her at the same time as Kara.

“Oh relax, it wasn’t the good stuff,” Lena said as she assigned pizza boxes to the two sisters. “There should still be some of that left over in the pantry downstairs.”

Nia smiled, watching the interaction with absolutely zero intention of moving herself. Instead, she spread out even further across Brainy’s lap, stretching out her arms. “D’you think they ever fight over who gets to deliver here?”

“Why?” Alex asked. “Because we’re superheroes, or because of Lena’s tips?”

“Both.”

Brainy narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “It is highly likely.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Lena called out in exasperation. “Pizza’s getting cold.”

Nia groaned, pushing herself up with a little help from her fiancé. “Fine, fine, we’re coming.”

----

The next few hours passed with ease. They ate and chatted and played way too many high-stakes card games. Brainy was officially banned from poker by 8 o’clock and Nia wasn’t allowed any more pre-game ‘warm up’ naps. She let it slide – she’d been meaning to practice her conscious dream-state, anyway. Besides, by the time the strong stuff came out of the pantry, everyone was playing with every super advantage they had at their disposal.

Nia wasn’t sure what time it was when she felt Brainy begin to grow restless at her side. Without saying anything, she lifted her head from his shoulder, giving him a little more room to work with. Not long after that, he broke away from the circle, heading out to the balcony for some fresh air.

She gave him some time at first, easing back into the conversation, but as the clock ticked closer towards midnight, she knew she needed to check in. After excusing herself, she creaked her way unsubtly up the stairs, finding Brainy exactly where she'd expected him to be – with his arms folded over the balcony’s edge, his chin tipped up towards the stars.

He always looked so peaceful when he was alone like that. His eyes may have been closed, but his mind was wide open. Right now, Nia imagined a million and one thoughts coursing seamlessly through Brainy’s head. To anyone else, the very notion of thinking to that extreme was a one-way ticket to migraine territory. But Brainy revelled in it. His twelve thought tracks were flourishing, broadened to new and exhilarating horizons ever since he’d first removed his inhibitors.

Sure, it had been rocky at first, but with the time to become reacquainted with his own potential, Brainy had only become more certain of himself for it. He’d once tried to explain it to Nia - how it felt for him without the restrictions that had once clouded his mind - and although there was no way she could ever put herself fully in his shoes, the way he had described it had sounded so profound, so freeing, that she’d found herself tearing up long before he’d even finished talking.

To be alone with one’s thoughts took on a whole new meaning for a Coluan, and it was the surest way to calm him whenever he became overwhelmed. Sometimes, especially after being around so many people for so long, Brainy needed to take a step back from it all and recharge his social metre. To find that connection between himself and the Big Brain and to truly nourish it.

It did mean that he often lost track of time. And so, as quietly as she could, Nia padded out to the balcony edge alongside her fiancé, brushing her arm up against his.

He stirred slowly, his lashes catching the starlight as he turned his head, acknowledging her without having to say a word.

Nia stood with him a while in that comfortable silence. The night air felt sobering against her cheeks, and the city below was so alive. Every brightly lit window was a doorway into another world, another person celebrating that step closer to a new year on planet Earth. Down on the ground, the bars were abuzz with people, whole groups spilling out onto the streets with drink in hand, enjoying the mild weather and fragrant breeze.

Nia took in a deep breath, letting it go slowly. “How long do we have?” she murmured.

“Eleven minutes, twenty-nine seconds.”

She grinned. Brainy’s response was as immediate as ever. She tipped her head against his shoulder, relaxing into his warmth. “Kara was right, y’know. This year has been pretty intense. In a good way.”

Brainy’s lips twitched into a faint smile. He lowered his head, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Indeed, it has.”

“Think we’ll top it next year?”

Brainy’s smiled widened. He turned his attention back towards the skyline, scanning it with new vigour. “You wanted a summer wedding, correct?”

“Spring or summer,” Nia said with a shrug, burying her nose firmer into his throat. “So long as the flowers are out. Mom would’ve wanted to see them in bloom.”

Brainy was still mapping the stars ahead, his dark eyes moving rapidly from left to right. There was a secretive edge to his smile, and a far-away look in his expression - one that told her he was already planning something special. He bit his lip, rising proudly where he stood. “Then the year to come will certainly exceed the last.”

Nia buzzed with anticipation; his excitement was infectious, igniting her own. Honestly, she would’ve married him right that second if it hadn’t been for all the hard work they’d put into the wedding plan already. Although, with an officiator in the other room and a bottle of wine already going to her head, she couldn’t deny it was a tempting thought.

She was thrown from that thought when a flash lit up the sky above their heads, followed by an explosive pop and bang a second later. Instinctively, Brainy clutched at her hand, holding her close. Nia tensed expectantly, but there was no fire to follow, no superhero emergency at all - just a stray firework set off by some kids down below.

“Little early,” Nia murmured, nudging Brainy’s arm. It was still beautiful, though, and she found that she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The firework streamed across the sky in fine shimmers of red and gold, reminding her a little of the translucence of her own dream energy, before spilling downward, raining a mist of glowing embers just a few blocks away.

The sky was dark again by the time she realised that Brainy hadn’t been watching the firework with her. Instead, he was looking at her, his eyes bright with reverence, twinkling with a different kind of spark.

“Perhaps we should take advantage of the moment,” he suggested in a low voice, leaning forward.

Nia smiled when his lips brushed across her cheek, trailing towards her ear. She closed her eyes appreciatively, tipping her chin closer to his mouth, his lashes tickling her nose. “Aren’t we supposed to wait for midnight?” she murmured.

“Hm.” Brainy’s lips curved in contemplation. His thumb traced the line of her jaw slowly, catching a curl of her hair before stroking it back behind her ear. His fingers lingered there at the nape of her neck, digging fine crescents into her skin. “I think we’ve traversed time enough to allow for certain… deviations in that respect.”

Nia shivered. She didn’t need much convincing; in fact, she was already leaning in for the kiss, one hand still gripping the balcony wall, the other locked tightly around Brainy’s arm, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

She was still a little heady from the wine, but the kiss felt like a firework of its own inside her chest, warming her from the inside out. Brainy’s hands were electric everywhere they touched - her face, her hair, her neck, each sensation enhanced by the alcohol roaring through her blood.

She could have believed they were flying.

Crap. Because they were flying.

Or at least, she was. Without even thinking, Nia had let her Legion ring tap into the psychic suggestion she’d been broadcasting a little too boldly, so much that it had begun to lift her off her feet.

When she gasped in surprise, Brainy grinned against her mouth. He held her steady, anchoring her to him until she found her footing again - on solid ground, this time.

“Thanks,” Nia mumbled against his chin, ducking her head into his shoulder, trying to assuage her own embarrassment. She could feel the rumble of laughter in Brainy’s chest and couldn’t help but smile along. “That’s definitely gonna take some getting used to.”

They held each other for a while longer, so comfortable in each other’s arms that Nia nearly lost track of time.

That was until voices started picking up back inside.

A moment later, Nia heard Kara calling: “Countdown’s starting!”

Already? Nia could hardly believe it. She grinned mischievously. “C’mon,” she said, tugging Brainy’s arm.

In the light of the Tower, he looked about as flushed as she felt, his blond hair frazzled against his jaw. He moved eagerly with her momentum, letting her drag him towards the balcony door.

By the time they were back inside, the countdown was nearly halfway through. They got as far as the top of the stairs before the final three seconds started ringing out.

Thinking fast, Nia made her decision. Spinning impulsively at the final second, she wrapped her arms around Brainy’s shoulders, pulling him in for another – official – kiss.

His lips were the warmest welcome she could hope for to usher in the new year.

They parted just as a bottle popped across the room. Brainy’s hands slipped around Nia’s waist, bumping his nose against hers before they both blinked back into reality, noticing for the first time the chaos that had erupted in just seconds below them.

“Ah,” Brainy said under his breath.

“Uh-huh,” Nia answered.

Over at the coffee table, Lena was pouring champagne flutes like her life depended on it from a bottle that’s neck was furiously frothing over courtesy of a certain over-eager Kryptonian. Kara was already making up for her mistake by super-speeding glasses under the bottle faster than they could spill over, placing them on every available surface she could find.

“Okay, you guys really need to start taking some of these,” Kara insisted.

“Way ahead of you,” Alex said, snatching two flutes from the table and handing one to Kelly. They clinked glasses, sharing another kiss.

J’onn laughed. “Here, let me help,” he said, angling the bottle in Lena’s hands so that it was a little less explosive on the next pour.

Lena let go of the bottle entirely, more than happy to let J’onn take over in exchange for a glass of her own.

“Us too,” Nia said, catching Brainy’s eye. “I could use another glass.”

Lena raised a brow expectantly. “Oh, I bet you do.”

Nia tried not to blush.

Once everyone had settled back around the table, flutes in hand, champagne mostly mopped up, Alex raised her glass, tapping it insistently with a fingernail. Instead of instigating a speech, she pointed her glass towards Kara. “So?” she asked. “Better or worse?”

Kara groaned aloud, muffling her voice with the rim of her glass. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

Alex winked. “Never.”

Kara rolled her eyes, lifting her free hand in surrender. “You know what? Fine. I’ll say it. Because, as a matter of fact, despite how freeing this year has been for me, I can’t deny that it’s also been hard. Really hard at times. In fact, for a while, I really did begin to wonder whether any of this was worth it.” She pursed her lips, knocking Alex’s arm. “But,” she countered, drawing out the word, “every time the media tried to beat me down, or the military pushed into my affairs, you were all there for me. You stood by me, supported this decision and supported me whenever I needed it. You reminded me why I wanted this in the first place.” Kara’s lips were already starting to tremble. She swiped quickly at her eyes, sniffing. “What I’m saying is, I really couldn’t have got through this year without you guys.”

“Kara,” Alex said softly.

“Stop, or I won’t finish,” Kara laughed. With a steadying breath, she hooked one arm around her sister’s shoulders, looping her other with Lena’s. “So, yes, this year could have been the worst, but it was the best because of all of you.” She raised her glass above Alex’s head, beaming proudly. “To family!”

“To family,” everyone echoed back.

Nia clinked her drink with everyone else, trying desperately to hold it together. She locked eyes with Brainy from across the table, seeing the happy tears that already stained his cheeks, the easy smile he wore now for no one’s benefit but his own, and realised just how lucky she was to be surrounded by so much love. Despite the hardships she’d faced in both her personal and hero life, she had a family here, one that may have come under its fair share of strain, sure, but had only grown stronger from what it had endured.

The Legion ring suddenly felt warmer around her finger, like a hug from a new friend. Maybe it was all in her head, or maybe it really was responding to her good mood.

Brainy had told her once that a Legion ring meant different things to different people, but at its heart, it represented the joined forces of the Legionnaires themselves. Their connection to one another, despite what made them so different.

For her, though, at its core, the ring was a promise. As certain as the one she and Brainy had made to each other on the training room floor. A promise shared by the echo of her friends right that second.

To family.

With the person she loved the most right there at her side, their devotion to each other worn as plainly as the rings on their fingers, she realised that promise was only just getting started.

Nia grinned, taking Brainy’s hand.

She couldn’t wait for the year ahead.

[myreputatioooon]

okay but can we see Wuthering Height's side on the fallout of Heathcliff being Doomed by the Narrative in World of U Corp?

manor reconstruction is in order, golden boughs are secured, some more years and Heathcliff will be invited back home

some years too early an uninvited guest requests an audience with somebody he only knows by the name of Cathy to give news regarding Heathcliff

Catherine, deprived of her love for so long demands the same, demands he tells everything he knows about Heathcliff, to know the name of whom Heathcliff has spent the last of his years with

"I've beaten around the bush for too long, I came here because Heathcliff loved you dearly, so much so he had a coffin made for the moment of his inevitable demise.

"I'm inviting you, and anybody you wish to take with you, to my love's funeral. Please forgive me for not having the funds to host it in a Nest," is spoken from Yi Sang.

whom Heathcliff has spent the last of his years with

it can't be him

[theoriginalcrossjumper]

so i forgot i can probably like. announce like a normal person that i finally wrote a tau fanfic, huh? on somewhere that isn't just the tau18 server?

wild.

anyway if anyone wants 26k of a transcendence au fic that includes outsider pov of alcor from a perspective we don't often get, gratuitous references to tau mutuals, tons of little sentences and phrasings that i added in specifically because i think i'm hilarious, numerous cameos and references to other tau fics/arcs, a lot of fake legal stuff that sounds accurate if you don't think about it too hard, a sneaky crossover with one of my own original stories that hasn't been written yet, and so many metric tons of worldbuilding that i did behind the scenes that it'll probably force me into writing more in this 'verse: this might be something you can look at!

or not. up to you. have fun!

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[butterfliesornauseous]

“And I’m sorry”

(500 special 5/5 with just many months later)

Fun fact, I originally started this blog with the intention of being an oc sickfic writer and originally was posting prompts to start getting my name out there and get more comfortable before I posted fics, but I only posted one actual fic and took it down because I still didn’t like my writing and became way more comfortable with prompts and had a lot of fun with them, I think for the final part of my late special I’m ready to bring River and Milo back so here’s them early in their relationship :)

Warning for Emeto, stomach noises, awkwardness, food mention, embarrassment ,reason of illness is in tags for spoilers,

**both characters have also had past ed’s it’s only very lightly touched on and not out right stated, but it’s still hinted at so trigger warning in case**

(Also my sickfic style is way different to my prompt and a and b stories, so I hope the change up is all right and still okay to read:))

Something had quivered inside River’s stomach. A gentle wave of butterflies fluttered in his gut, dancing to the pattern of his fingers drumming softly against the velvet table cloth while he waited. The cosy little restaurant wasn’t exactly buzzed with life tonight but Milo, the bleached blonde he adored was nowhere to be seen.

The air was bursting with spices and sauces scents that would bring a hungry growl out of any stomach yet for River’s own it tugged him deeper into his nervous daze.

River had thought ‘where is he?’ A couple of times now, each time caused a new picture such as the possibility that Milo was probably triple checking his outfit or had begun to fret over his hair as always, or he lost his wallet again, to enter his mind. Each tugged at River’s lips in a way that made his body’s inside feel that much more warmer and mushy.

Realistically he knew it was sort of his own fault that he had been waiting a while for his date. He arrived at the restaurant early just so he could work on taming his need to fidget every few seconds so hopefully he could prevent his hands shaking and his voice rising to a higher octave all night. The issue however, was his brain constantly turned back to giddy thoughts about how he was finally going out with his best friend.

It was the acknowledgement of the butterflies that increased how intense everything felt, and he shifted in his seat as one of his hands came up to play with the thick choker around his neck.

The sound of a squeak being across the table brought River out of his thoughts and grounded him fully into reality with a delicate but rushed voice spoke.

“I’m so so so sorry for being late!”

There he was, Milo bobbing his head in multiple short paced bows that caused his small half up ponytail to bop with him. Milo paused for a second looking at River siting and then quickly sat down himself, tightening his ponytail in the process and tucking his fringe behind his ears. “Sorry…. You look really nice River.”

River’s voice blurted out a fast “Thanks. “

Taking a moment to force himself to breathe he added “Nono it’s not an issue at all." His hands shook for emphasis.

He wanted to choose one of the million compliments swimming through his head, but his voice had died on him ending its permission for him to say nothing more than a “You too.”

‘Get a grip you’re making yourself worse’ River mentally sighed. He would rather not have the butterflies turn into anxious queasiness or possibly even make it to the point where he loses his lunch and possibly forever scars Milo’s memory of him and first dates forever.

Milo stated to apologise again. “I’m so sorry, see one of my friends borrows my charger which was cool dude but then my phone was flat, and I needed to get an Uber because my car is in the shop and I-“

“You’re rambling.”

‘Cute’

There was something about the way Milo had been trying to say so much in one go. The informality in his tone and red in his cheeks eased River’s mind and a just tiny bit of the pressure in his belly.

Milo’s mouth gaped somewhat before another “Sorry.”

River himself can’t really talk on repeated unnecessary apologies, he’s always the first to apologise for everything, still he found a light smile on his lips as he replied “You don’t have to keep saying sorry for everything.”

If he was a bolder person, he would have taken Milo’s hands, kissed them and spoken that the blonde is adorable. That he should stop fretting over everything because he’s just River and River isn’t someone worth getting this flustered for. Yet another squirm in the pit of his stomach made just a small noise come out his throat.

The silence that followed for a beat was broken by Milo deciding to speak first. “Sooo…” he glanced around the room and settled on picking the menu up, “have you seen anything you like yet?” His tone was bashful, spoken in a slightly quieter than previously.

‘He must think I’m weird damn it’

River shrugged. “Not really I honestly kinda of just sat here.” He picked the menu up himself not really reading it. The restaurant's ambience was the only thing heard between them again with the only lick of comfort being they were both together yet at the same time the tension was created because of the fact they were both here together.

“Look I’m going to be completely honest,” Milo folded his menu down so he could gaze at River. “I’m so nervous that I apologise if this is awkward.”

River wasn’t sure if it was Milo would want to hear if he even wants any validation at all but River felt the tension leave his body.

“Oh god I’m sorta glad, I’ve been sitting here for the last couple of minutes thinking I’m so awkward you must find me weird.”

A laugh bubbled from Milo’s mouth, the type of laugh that bounced off the walls and melted into River’s ears. It was enough to pull River into Milo’s spell and make him turn into a love drunk fool who lost control of his brain before he could stop the spill of him finally being able to say longer unfiltered sentences.

“To think we have known each other for so long, and yet I can’t form words right to explain how happy I am that we are out together, You know nine-year-old me with have been stoked to hear he’s on a date with you.”

Milo’s eyes went wide. “R-really?”

“You’re surprised?”

“Mean… Well… I’m not going to lie about it, when we used to hold hands it did make me feel weird things in my tummy and I would be disappointed when you would let go but…” Milo this time gently pulled his fringe back away from his ears.

The pound in River’s heart had stopped for a second like it needed to get ready to speed up after. ‘Milo liked me back as a kid?’

“That sounds like a crush Milo.”

“It so is not, perhaps it was a small infatuation with you but not a crush-” he watched as Milo’s face twisted with a cringe at his wording then it changed to him laughing. If only Milo had known that his laughter was causing all those silly sensations in Rivers stomach to feel like permanent function of his body.

This is all River wanted for Milo. For him to feel free with him and loosen up like this, he would do anything to keep Milo feeling comfortable. But it was a big step tonight for the both of them, outside the first fire date context and River said the first thing that he could think of in hope of continuing the night go be easy for them.

“Want to maybe spilt a dish, would that be easier for you?” That would be easier for River.

Milo’s expression changed first to a look similar to suspicion which morphed into relief. “Actually that would kinda would be nice.” His eyes held a small twinkle of relief. “Uhh what about the carbonara… maybe?” Milo held up the menu, this being the first time River truly held interest for anything on it.

“I think it sounds good too.” River nodded. He bit back his tongue for a moment to make sure his tone conveyed he’s asking this for Milo’s sake and not as a disguise for his own issues. “Are you sure you are okay with this?”

River’s hands were pulled away from his own menu, the softness of Milo’s warm skin leaked into his own as Milo intertwined their fingers tightly. Milo looked to the side as his voice sweetened into fondness “I feel comfortable eating in front of you River.” He squeezed River’s hands. Meeting river’s gaze again.

That meant a lot to him, more than Milo would ever know.

“Milo… I… I do too.”

—————————-

They both put their fork down at the same moment. Milo leaned back into the chair and River hunched. The carbonara was heavier than River expected, a taste different from what he was used to. It sat heavy in his stomach, getting ready for when ever his stomach decided to attempt to digest the rich sauces.

“Good?” Milo asked with a some hesitance as he leaned back up as he patted the top of his tummy while Milo tried to loosen his choker.

River nodded. “Yeah……Good….” No not really, it’s not a taste River was used to, a little on the stranger and chewy side but it was his first time trying this restaurant. Who is he to judge how different places cook their food.

It probably took them over an hour to finish their one shared carbonara from River being a slower eater. A normal eating speed was something River could never let himself do in front of others. His insecurities had attacked him the whole night that he would be judged if he did so and through our the years he had learnt Milo is the type to try to match the pace of who he is eating with.

A gurgle had been brewing in his stomach. He felt his belly tense before he heard a sludgy type of sound emit from him as his stomach went loose again. Milo was sitting slightly slouched over with his thumb circled under his chin with the rest of his fingers in front of his mouth with no reaction of hearing anything when River hastily glanced up to him.

He squirmed involuntarily. Ages ago the flutters finally shooed off only for them to slowly creep back into his now packed stomach, raging back to full life.

It took a strong movement inside him for him to put a hand to his stomach. He hadn’t noticed he was a beginning to bloat until his felt the strain against his pants.

Under his hand he was painfully aware now of how thick the sauces and pasta were mixing up under his skin like small bubbles of unease were popping around the sitting food.

Across to him, Milo blew through his lips and River sat up. “Sorry did you say something?” River’s voice came out shaky, he mentally blamed it on a mix of embarrassment and the chill growing in the late night.

“…. No….did you want me to say something?” River shook his head at Milo’s prompt. He knew the blonde also probably needed a minute to let his tummy prepare to digest as well. He would hate to force Milo to get an upset stomach for him.

Quietness retuned between them, the lack of sounds from the boys forced River to gain more consciousness over the expanding trouble in his belly, which had begun pushing a bit more out.

He took a deeper breath, holding it for three seconds to placate his urge to rub his tummy or do anything else to ease any of the pressure swelling. River allowed himself to close his mouth and squeeze his throat muscles to compel a small quiet burp that he breathed out his nose but stopped at just one with how much it tasted like their dinner but warmer.

The gurgling in his stomach wasn’t held back from it. They were gurgles that ranged from higher sounding foaming noises that fell down to deeper small rumbles that had him sure Milo must be hearing something from the orchestra.

River didn’t feel it but a sudden curdle noise that got higher until it broke into a grumble issued itself, and he cringed. His eyes shut at the loudness yet once he opened them he saw his date blushing a pretty red. “S-sorry, I’m digesting loudly.”

Similar to earlier Milo bowed his head again before his grabbed his tummy when a wetter noise rose from him. “I think it might do that all night-uh that’s so embarrassing.” Milo grimed as he rubbed his hand under his ribs with a small “shhh please.”

He wished he had the confidence to tell Milo it was okay and that his own gut had been churning up a quiet storm for a bit now and Milo’s reaction was cute, but his energy had started to drop the more his meal sat. “It’s no….problem.”

Milo seemed like he was to add something else but instead settled on reaching for his drink when his hand nearly hit it over. In response River jumped forward to grip Milo's wrist, noticing the faint shake and sweat to his hand. Both locked their eyes at the same time.

“Am I allowed to apologise again?”

River hesitated then nodded.

“I kinda of use all my elegance up at dance” Milo said flustered boarding on embarrassed. They took a second longer of River holding Milo before pulling away from each other.

“I think… I think it’s our time to go. River muttered as he realised a couple waiters were staring at them. “We have been here for a while.”

“I-yeah…”

————————————

The bright night sky outside the restaurant grew cooler as the stars became more clear while they walked on the sidewalk. River pulled his jacket closer to his body.

“You don’t have to walk me to the train station…. But I do really appreciate it Milo.”

Milo seemed almost untouched by the cold, even undo doing his top buttons on his blouse. Under the faint street lights, Milo actually looked even a tad sweaty.

“What type of….date am I if I let you walk home by yourself?” He faulted in the middle, sounding unsure of his choice of words.

River offered a hum. His response was more pained than he intended to sound. His focus wasn’t cooperating with him anymore, it being hard to concentrate when the feeling of bubbling in his belly felt like it could have bubbled up at any moment. ‘Of course you let your nerves get to the point of nausea’ Heat pooled in his cheeks.

Milo sighed and all that followed was the sound of their matching footsteps, the new silence that fell between them

Was no saint to be kind enough to mask the occasional boil inside Milo’s stomach that River was too kind to point out.

He did however take notice of the sounds coming from Milo had started to turn into a more constant watery burble compared to earlier’s growls. Again that wish of courage to reassure Milo he also was going through his own embarrassing gut issues, layered guilt inside the uncomfortableness under his clothes that had become completely tight.

River wanted to be polite. On a normal night he would have wanted to spend as much time as possible with Milo but in his stomach he knew deep down he couldn’t handle that much longer with him.

Saliva invaded his mouth, coating his tongue in the taste of carbonara, he shakily uttered, “Y-you really don’t have to stay, it’s-…. It’s cold out here, I don’t mind if you go.”

The ‘O’ movement made a burp escape his throat. Another one followed a little louder with a spin that was a little sour. “I’m so sorry.” River’s hand went up to cover his mouth “I’m so sorry” the other went to his stomach.

It was that feeling in his stomach that happened every time something went wrong. A deep tug that stirred deep within him before it gurgled up his throat and slipped through his fingers onto the pavement.

River gagged again, the warm liquid felt like it could rival the heat that flamed his cheeks as Milo gasped and made a strangled noise. His body stopped anymore coming up but at the cost he became locked up in complete embarrassment and worst was his gut was still heavily sloshing, still full of bile that desired to make another appearance.

‘You are so disgusting River.’ He could have died on the spot, and he would never be more thankful, his nose and throat burnt, his head was fuzzy, and his eyes went watery. Milo must have been so disgusted with him.

“C-can I touch you?”

River eyes shut tight. His mind fell blank as to why Milo could ever want to touch him after losing his dinner, his heart beat fast like it’s expecting Mill to push him over.

Though all he felt was Milo’s fingers on the chain of his choker loosing it and with care, pulling it off his neck. His whole body relaxed, un restricted now, he managed to straighten up.

He wiped his mouth and finally turned to face Milo. His mind span trying to form another apology but… Milo was trembling. The street light above revealed his pale face and-

“Sorry” Milo said before he pitched forward himself, gagging only once before pasta spilt out of his lips.

Oh, this wasn’t just a nervous stomach anymore….

River had chosen the meal that they shared and “I’m sorry” is all he could say before patting a hand on Milo’s back, he then leaned forward himself with another heave.

[sxfterhearts]

i have a confession to make…

warning: 18+ mdni, explicit content ahead

ok so for the longest time i’ve tried to keep my blog super wholesome and PG with the rare exception of one or two suggestive/smut fics here and there but honestly. i’ve reached my limit 😭 i’m gonna have to do it guys im sorry i disappointed you

(fuck im so dramatic i can’t even)

(it = write that jiung smut fic that’s been living in the back of my head for the past few weeks but has been rudely awakened due to Recent Events IYKYK)

(IM SCARED OK I SUCK AT WRITING SMUT BUT I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS WHAT DO I DO WITH THEM RAHHH)

in the words of my moot — jiung you need to tone down your fanservice and visuals bc youre really making the chocochips act up 😭😭🫠😩

[yannfredericks]

life after - chapter twelve

Green eyes stare back at Albus as he examines himself in the clinical light of the bathroom mirror. Is it written on his face? Could someone tell just by looking at him? He bites his lip and tilts his head, leaning in closer. Is it right there, hiding in the spattering of freckles? Or, more likely, the curve of his mouth when he thinks about Scorpius?

The word has taken to visiting him more frequently now. Tugging on his sleeve, lurking in the corner of the glass. He turns around but it’s never there to face him, it just lingers nearby and haunts his reflection. Occasionally, it’s a little more violent and kicks him in the shin to trip him up, sending him stumbling for purchase. He’s getting used to it, though. This phantom. He thinks they could eventually be friends even.

Maybe.

He frowns. His nervous, freckled face frowns back at him.

If it would just give him time. If it could just accept I know what you are, but I can’t say it for an answer. He’s not stupid or in denial, he’s processing. He’s getting there, and now that he’s off school he has all the time in the world to turn it over in his mind. To mouth that first foreboding syllable.

He thinks of Patrick. Then, of Scorpius. Always of Scorpius.

Keep Reading

[writingsfromhome]

School Photos

A/N: just a quick fluff one-shot to get me back online. happy August and fellow Leo season.

————————————————

“Please!” He begs for the umpteenth time. “Just one picture! I just wanna see one!”

“No! Mum look at me, all albums will be burned if you show anything.”

My family chuckles at my persistence but I was serious. Bringing home my uni boyfriend was going good so far. The only thing I had to avoid was him seeing pictures of me as a child.

“She had braces, even had to wear the headgear sometimes.” My brother teases.

“Shut up!” I glare.

“Yeah and she was obsessed with dolphins so anything she wore had them. And if they didn’t—mom didn’t she have these pictures you ironed on for her.”

“Oh!” Mom gasps. “I remember! The patches, the dolphin patches she bought from that one store um-“

“Remember when she wanted a mole so bad like Aunt Jess that she drew one on.”

“No way, I need to see the proof.” Harry grins, taking in my humiliation like a chilled glass of wine.

“She did it the whole summer until I told her it looked like shit on her face.” My brother says. “It was a kindness now that she looks back right yn?”

“Oh aren’t you Mother Teressa.” I mock. I didn’t want Harry to see me like this either—bothered and acting childish with my brothers but I had to pick and choose my battles here.

“Ok lay off her now boys, let us enjoy the pie your mum made.” My dad swoops to my rescue and I give him an appreciative smile.

“Daddy’s girl.” My brother mutters. Mom scolds him but she’s biting back a laugh. Ugh my family was infuriating.

Since we’d arrived late, right before dinner, Harry hadn’t seen my childhood bedroom so once we’re done around the table we head upstairs.

In between dinner and dessert I’d rushed up with an excuse for the loo and made sure to hide any evidence of my face between the ages of 5-16 in my room.

Now, I give Harry a tour of my childhood bedroom.

“I can imagine you sitting here sketching,” Harry brushes his hand along the oak desk dad had built for me in year 4 and has sat against the window since.

So much of my history lived in all these objects. I was happy that Harry could see it all laid out here, know the past parts of me he couldn’t exactly meet.

Not that he needed to see physical copies of all my past parts.

“And this is my shrine to Jesse McCartney.” I open the top drawer meant for pencils and small items but instead a poster of his face was glued down and tiny trinkets laid around including the ticket from the I went to one of his performances.

“So this is your man on the side. Keeping him tucked away at home hm?” Harry tugs the drawer more to reveal all of my teenage crazy.

“I was obsessed. He’s still a very attractive man.”

“That’s weird.”

“What? That he’s attractive?”

“No, he looks nothing like me.”

“Why would he-“ I roll my eyes when I realize what he’s getting at. “Well you should be flattered you don’t look like my childhood celeb crush. That’d be creepy.”

“I think this is a little creepy.” Harry crosses his arms and leans against the table. I take him in where he stands; he felt so much bigger than my childhood bedroom.

“It’s what teenage girls do. Ask your sister I’m sure she had one of these too.”

“So you’re okay showing me this,” Harry tugs my hand. “But not any pictures of you-“

“No. That’s not happening.”

“I promise I’ll still love you.”

“They’re just embarrassing!” I whine. “I always had a phase I was going through. I don’t want you to see any of them.”

“Why?” He cups my face. “It makes you interesting! I showed you the phase where I spiked my hair every day and thought I was in a boy band.”

“Your hair didn’t even spike,” I laugh into his chest, remembering the photo I had taken a copy of with my phone. His hair had looked like he woken up and taken a chainsaw to it.

“See you’re allowed to laugh at me!”

“Nooo,” I wrap my arms around his waist. “No photos. Now subject change: we’re meeting all my friends tomorrow so what do you want to do today?”

“I can crash.” Harry says. He brushes my hair back and gives my head a kiss. “Driving for 4 hours was more tiring than I thought.”

“Okay,” I was fine with cuddling and going to bed even though it was only 9. As long as I was with Harry, everything felt fun. We’d been dating for over a year now and I loved him in a way I never loved boyfriends from the past. I think he was the real deal.

We lie on my small bed and talk until we doze off. The next morning we wake to the smell of breakfast and my parents spoil us with food and laughter.

I give Harry a tour of my hometown before we meet with my friends from school. Everyone and their partners love Harry and I can’t help but beam as he fits seamlessly into the other half of my life.

He catches my eye every now and then and the smile he gives me makes me fall in love with him all over again.

After an evening spent with family at home and another early night, Harry and I head out to go back to uni the following morning.

Goodbyes are long and multiple hugs are involved all around.

As we settle in and head back onto the motorway, Harry points to the sun visor.

“Sun in your eye?”

“No?”

“Why don’t you flip it down?”

“It’s not?” I look him over. Was he okay?

“Just flip it down yeah? In case.”

“Okay?” I slowly flip the visor down and I gasp. “How could you?”

His laughter fills the car as I stare in horror. Tucked into the mirror is a school picture of me, probably Year 6. My braces are full on while I grimace-not even smile-into the camera. I’m wearing a tie-dye dolphin shirt with dolphin clips in my hair. My hair is in plaits except one of them is already fallen out; I’d probably been rough on the playground. It’s all topped off by a silver chunky chain I’d stolen from my brother—thinking it was real silver and would make me look cool.

“It’s my favourite picture of you,” Harry plucks it off and I realize I should have nabbed it while he was laughing. “I don’t think anything can top it really.”

“Harry I beg you to give that back.”

“Nope.” Harry pops the p with joy. He tucks it into his shirt pocket.

“Harry!”

“I love you. Looking at the picture just makes me love you more.” He glances over at me and pats my thigh. “Can you smile like that for me?”

“This is so unfair!” I cross my arms and face the front. “Who betrayed me?!”

“My lips are sealed.” He was having too much fun. I would get my family to crack—dad would probably tell me. Unless it was him.

“I’m gonna go for her for Halloween.” Harry says, trying to get through my wall of silence.

“Fine.” I sit up with an idea and flick through my phone for the picture I’d been keeping. “I’ll go as him.”

I wait for Harry to look over at me and gloat when his face falls.

“You’re not supposed to have a copy of that!”

“Well. We’re even now.”

I plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, feeling better already.

“You’re so lucky I’m driving.”

“You’re lucky or I would have wrestled that photo away from you ages ago.” I say and Harry looks at me skeptically. “I grew up with brothers don’t underestimate me.”

“Fine. Fine. We’re even.” Harry agrees. “And for the record. I love you. And I love her too.”

It’s true that what he says thaws me a little, the little girl in me, but I don’t let it show right now. I just look out the window and mumble a love you too. His hand comes down on my thigh and, still looking out the window, I intertwine our fingers. He could drive me crazy but it was true for me too. As much as I laughed at his photo, I loved him and that little boy too.

“You’re never visiting my parents ever again.” I tell him.

His only response is bringing our hands to his mouth.

I melt in my seat a little.

Whatever.

[necrotic-nephilim]

What do you think about the fab five polycule

(Dick x donna x wally x garth x roy)

i'll be SO honest i wish i had like. insightful interesting opinions on them but i've always been a Young Justice kid and sort of. breezed past consuming Fab Five Teen Titans content-

but of what i *do* know, from the few comics i've read with these characters is this is one of the best ships for Dick, honestly. it always deeply annoys me when fanon content breezes past the Titans as if they're just some distant teammates and not some of Dick's closest friends, if not a second family. *especially* the Fab Five. for most, if not all of them, it's the first time getting to actually connect with other teen heroes. so there's something fun about how sort of terrible they are at it, at first. they all care about each other a lot. but they're kind of chucked into the deep figuring out how to work with each other and get along with *very* different personalities, so it's fun to see where the conflict comes.

as a ship, i do really love it. the Titans are a family. like we call a lot of teams found families, but for the Fab Five, that shit is the truest. they depend on each other and trust each other. when Dick and Bruce are on outs and Bruce fires him, he goes to the Titans.

i also enjoy how, to an extent, all of them are outsiders of some kind. Donna is alone in a new world she's never experienced, the same as Garth. Roy is still new and awkward to living the rich life with Oliver. Wally doesn't connect to his parents well. and of course, Dick has lost his parents and only has Bruce, who isn't the most emotionally available. of course they're going to cling to each other, as the first people they can really develop connections too. they're very clingy with each other and i think that's both cute and *fun* to explore like, codependency issues with them. how protective they can be of each other, how they default to trusting each other over their mentors, etc. it's all very interesting for a polycule, especially since for most of them, it's their first real relationship. i'm a big fan of "none of us know what dating looks like bc we've had such strange childhoods so we don't understand the Rules very well. we're all just going to date each other bc why would i date only one of you. do teamups count as dates now." vibes with teenage polycules. and the Fab Five just. have that on lock. they each fulfill a different "niche" in the group. Garth is the softer, more emotional one you can go to if you're upset. Donna is the one for planning bright fun trips and making sure you don't wallow. Roy is protective and can pretend to be suave, but he shows affection through gift giving and grand gestures where words fail him. Wally can cheer any of them up with jokes and distractions. and of course Dick is the logical one who makes sure they all keep their heads on and don't drown in the responsibility.

overall i think it's a really cute ship and i do wish i just. knew more about them to be able to write them/read fic of it because i do love their dynamic. and i'm just a firm believer in the Titans being Dick's family, just as important to him as the Batfam. they're a disaster and for that you gotta love them.

[eebie]

i will always be a little smug about being all over spot before the movie even came out Before the trailers even dropped When he was just a teaser poster and an actor namedrop… spot superfans rise….