#And I hope you don't face as much adversity as I did.

[blackh0letempest]

To the kids currently going through abuse from their parents, keep pushing forward. You will get out. You will. It feels huge, it's a lot to think about. You will probably make mistakes. But there is not a single living independent adult that hasn't made mistakes in handling their finances, taking care of themselves, etc. The sooner you get out, the sooner you can start to learn who you are when you aren't being abused, and that self is deeply worth knowing. You are worth the effort.

[shadesoflsk]

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

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

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

word count: 14k

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

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

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

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

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

At least in Leon’s mind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

II. RECOGNITION.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

III. FURTHERANCE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

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

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

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

The government has fucked him up.

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

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

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

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

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

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

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

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

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

A complete fraud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

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

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

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

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

Eventually, you speak.

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

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

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

“That I know.” You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fight… right.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

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

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

If it even ends.

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

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another step.

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

One more step.

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

Stop.

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

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

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

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

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

Why does it have to be this way?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

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

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

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

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

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

But right now he wants to be a child again. 

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

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

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

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

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

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

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

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.” You reassure him.

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

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

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

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

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

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

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

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

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

He was forced to join.

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

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

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

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

He’s too awkward for his own good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You feel like home.” 

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

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

“You’re my home too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, he found himself daydreaming. 

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

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

And he loves being in love.

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

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” He whispers.

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

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

“Sorry…”

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

VI. SERENITY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missed me?”

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

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

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

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

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

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

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

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

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You know what I've never understood?" "Oh, is it philosophy hour with [Name]?" "Not really... I just don't get how Santa could possibly know what children in the entire world are good or bad but would need to be told what kids want. Kids aren't exactly... quiet about their desires."

Pairing: Sebek Zigvolt x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff, Slight crack

TW: NA

It was a cold, silent night. Snow covered the ground like an oversized blanket, glittering under the soft silver light of the moon. Not a single critter made a noise, every soul fast asleep under the watchful and twinkling stars...

"THAT'S TOO MUCH FOOD COLORING, ACE!"

Well, almost every soul.

In the cozy warmth of the Ramshackle kitchen stood the six friends of the Ramshackle Prefect, decorating sugar cookies that they had baked earlier.

"It's fine," Ace dismissed Deuce's wide-eyed horror and Sebek's seething at the amount of food coloring he had dropped into the icing. It was an accident, but Ace was trying to play it off as an intentional action, mixing the red food coloring with a little tune on his lips.

Epel, Jack and Ortho worked together on their share of the cookies, icing them precisely and perfectly to look like little Christmas trees, while you stood at the stove, making hot chocolate for all of you to share.

"Isn't having too much food coloring bad?" Deuce asked, eyeing the way Sebek seemed to turn red with indignation at being ignored by Ace.

"Most food dyes do not cause any adverse effects, Deuce Spade-kun" Ortho answered, "though it is advised by medical professionals not to consume too much of them."

"This isn't too much. Besides, with the white icing, it'll balance out. Relax," Ace rolled his eyes.

Epel smiled as he continued decorating the cookies, while Jack helped him out silently.

The next few minutes were spent in relative peace. Mindful of the late hour, you all tried to keep your volumes down as you worked in the kitchen.

"You know what I've never understood about Christmas?" Deuce started, effectively getting everyone's attention. "Oh, is it philosophy hour with Deuce?" Jack huffed in amusement, used to Deuce's habit of asking questions that could put one in an existential crises due to their being clubmates.

"Not really... I just don't get how Santa could possibly know what children in the entire world are good or bad but would need to be told what kids want," Deuce said as he looked at the cookie he was decorating to look like a candy-cane. "Kids aren't exactly... quiet about their desires."

A silence descended onto the kitchen, as every first year looked at the blue haired boy in varying degrees of amusement, disbelief and curiosity.

"Uh, Deuce... you do know that Santa isn't real, right?" Epel asked kindly, his tone a stark contrast to the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at the taller boy. Deuce flushed and sputtered, "O-Of course I know! It's just-!"

Ace, ever the nuisance, jumped at the chance. "Aw, did little Deucey believe in good ol' Saint Nick all this time?" He teased. "How cute."

"That's not true!"

"There's no need to be embarrassed Deuce Spade-kun. Many young children believe in the myth of Santa Claus," Ortho tried to reassure him, but even he couldn't hide the slight amusement in his tone.

"Little Deucey, did you send your letter to the North Pole this year?" Ace laughed, poking Deuce in the side. "I hope you've been good this year. Wouldn't want you to end up on the naughty list, would you? That'd be bad for your goody two shoes record."

"Ace, you little-" Deuce began to chase the other boy around the kitchen, face flushed red with embarassment. The ginger-haired menace laughed as he weaved his way between the appliances and the people in the kitchen, using them as shields and obstacles to slow down the other boy.

He poked his tongue out at Deuce, slipping away through the kitchen door to the hallway. Deuce narrowed his eyes as he ran after him out of the kitchen, cookies and decorating forgotten.

"I'll go make sure they don't end up killing each other," Jack said, shaking his head as he followed after them. Epel skipped behind him, pulling along Ortho to see the entertaining show.

"Sebek, can you get me some cups from that cabinet over there?" You asked the only person remaining in the room. Sebek hummed in acknowledgement, getting out seven cups and placing them in front of you.

Preoccupied with pouring the steaming hot chocolate into seven cups, you missed the conflicted expression on Sebek's face. As you decorated the beverage with marshmallows and whipped cream according to each one's preferences, sounds of the boys rough-housing in the next room had you smiling in fond exasperation.

"Here, this one's yours," you said, handing Sebek his drink. Sebek thanked you, voice low and expression uncharacteristically serious. You poked his forehead with a finger, smiling as he startled and looked at you with a confused look on his face.

"You're going to end up getting wrinkles way early if you scowl that much," you teased him, leaning against the counter as you spoke. "What are you thinking about so intently anyways?"

"It is not a matter of much importance, human."

"You're blushing though."

"I-I am not!" Sebek protested. His cheeks did nothing to help his case, turning even darker instead. You raised your arms in surrender, as you chuckled at his flustered state. "Fine, fine."

You started gathering up the bowls and spoons that had been used, placing them in the dishwasher to be cleaned. Your work was done in peaceful silence, and Sebek helped with what he could, ever the gentleman.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, he spoke.

"About what Deuce said, earlier..."

"Hm?"

"That is something... I have previously wondered as well... Not that I don't know that Santa Claus is a myth made for young children!" Sebek looked everywhere but at you, evidently embarrassed by his admission. "As Malleus-sama's guard, I cannot be misled by such childish and whimsical stories, of course! I-"

"You believed in Santa Claus too?" You asked, watching in amusement as the colour in his cheeks seemed to explode, climbing up his ears as well. "I JUST SAID I DIDN'T HUMAN, WHAT-"

"I think that's cute."

Sebek stopped, eyes wide as he stared at you. You continued, "It shows that you're innocent and pure-hearted. It's really cute." Sebek looked away and took a sip of his hot chocolate, wincing when he burned his tongue by drinking too fast. Before you could tease him any further, Ace called out, "If yall are done being sappy and disgusting, save me! Wait, shit-"

The sounds coming from the other room grew louder, taking your attention off of Sebek, allowing him to regain his composure somewhat. Deuce must have finally gotten hold of Ace, considering the loud and whiny complaints that could be heard. You turned back to Sebek, shaking your head. "Wanna save Ace from the fate that he oh so rightfully deserves?"

"I would rather have him bear the consequences of his actions," Sebek smiled, as Ace wailed in protest.

Back to Masterlist...

[moodymisty]

Hey Misty, sorry for the incoming braindump. I read a theory on reddit that the primarchs were partly made from minor gods of the Warp and that the Loyalists were gods that Big E bargained with and who went willingly, while the Traitors were gods he subjugated/tricked somehow. I thought this was really cool and had it on my mind all day. Full-on neuron activation moment. But I don't have any friends who know about 40k to talk about it with so I suppose I will leave some thoughts here :) sorry if this is annoying/unwelcome.

This focuses on the Traitors mostly because I find them very interesting.

Like, what if reader is/was a devout and beloved high-priestess/follower of one of those gods(maybe it's a steadily declining religion, even?) And so when the specific primarch in question fleetingly lays eyes on her for the first time while taking over the world she lives on, there is just this instant feeling of desire/attachment/protectiveness that they don't understand. Maybe the primarch had some kind of silent subconscious urge to go to that planet specifically, because the god has/had worshippers there and it sort of calls out to them. Like divine homesickness lol.

For the Loyalists it would be mostly wholesome and cute tbh. It'd be like they found a piece of themselves that they didn't know was missing. Very meet-cute potential.

But for the Traitors it could be soooo spicy. You get snatched by Curze and it is just a shitshow. Mood swings galore and most of the time you have no idea what you even did to trigger them(your silent prayers for mercy made something in his head feel like it was crawling) I think your take on him being really obsessive and almost desperately clingy(in the most unnerving of ways) fits super well. Whatever entity got diced up and put in the Curze soup was probably a fucking scary one.

I think Perturabo would be really scary too. Although maybe finding someone like that would soothe him somehow? You'd definitely be walking on eggshells with him (at least at first) though. Another one with mood swings. Another scary god, but less "horrific torment to cleanse you of your sins" and more of a "You lesser creatures exist for worship and labor." Maybe that's why he's so pissy, the divine part of him was used to having constant praise and offerings and now he gets almost none.

Angron would be soo tragic. His whole thing was empathy so I think whatever god he has in him/was made from might have been a much more gentle one. He's got one side of him crying out desperately to be near you and the nails raking through him on the other.

Lorgar would be hilarious tbh. A guy made from the blended up remains of a minor Warp deity constantly crowing about you being a goddess (when you were just a humble priestess before lol). It's like this comedically backwards situation, the God worshipping the acolyte. Maybe the entity he was made from was literally a deity of worship? I dunno. Kinda stumped on this one lol.

I think Mortarion would be pretty normal tbh. Might even fight against the thing in his chest that tugs him towards your presence. Slow burn city. I think whatever god he was made from very much wanted to be left alone, but wasn't particularly scary. Just a bit cold, distant, and stern. Maybe something to do with resilience in the face of suffering/adversity?

Fulgrim is pretty obvious thematically. Another one that wouldn't be too scary. Whatever divine he was made from was some kind of god of perfection/pursuits (obvs). Something you'd pray to before you tried to paint a masterpiece, or maybe even as you tried to learn any skill at all. Praying in the hopes of becoming a master at whatever trade you do. As for why it didn't go willingly, maybe it saw the creations Big E intended to make as flawed, and found being placed in such a vessel as distasteful? Might be why he's so obsessed with achieving perfection, because that part of him is viscerally digusted by his imperfections.

Bonus: Guilliman was made from some kind of deity of order. Or even a god of plenty/growth? He always seems to leave places better than they were before he got there, after all. I know a lot of people see Sanguinius or Vulkan as Konrad's opposite, but I think maybe Guilliman is closer. Guilliman feels like true order. Curze feels like chaos grasping for stability (via his obsession with executing criminals) idk.

Apologies for how long this ended up being >_< I had a lot more thoughts than I'd expected lol. I hope your weekend goes well!

This is an interesting idea! I've not heard of this theory before but given the vagueness behind Emps dealings in creating the primarchs, anything is possible

[isa-ghost]

If you're still doing Philza headcannons, how about some specifically about Phil, Chayanne, and Tallulah? I miss the kiddos...

qPhil headcanons masterlist

(NOT) SINGLE DAD EDITION LETS GO

Those two are the light of his fucking life ok. If you were someone that had something against him, they're how you get to him. They're how you hurt him. He will do ANYTHING for them. He'll kill his friends, he'll fly on broken wings, he'll die for them. Nothing matters more than those two kids.

He's not typically a very physically affectionate person. But to the kids? Suddenly he's a cuddler. Suddenly he's head kisses and carrying them on his hip just because he can. Suddenly he's braiding hair and painting nails and playfully tormenting them with tickles. They flip a switch in his brain.

Nothing could ever make him waver on how proud of them he is. Both of them. Chayanne so brave and strong, stressed to the teeth like his dad but persevering like a true warrior. Lullah is so loving and open, even in the face of so much pain and adversity. She's been through so much, largely alone, and yet she still has the strength to smile and be silly after everything. Ideally he wishes they would've never experienced any pain at all, but Quesadilla says Damn You All

Chayanne & Lullah can make him laugh until his stomach hurts, and they can do it faster than friends he's known for YEARS. Lullah especially is the queen of comedic nonverbal timing. All it takes is a certain look with a slow turn after Phil says something stupid and he's Dying.

His favorite thing is when either of them fall to pieces emote bc smth stupid happened. Or whenever they Orange Justice after smth fucked happens.

Listen. LISTEN. Don't be fooled by this man. He LOVES adventures with the kids. He loves them. The reason he refuses to venture out with them or go dungeon raiding with them super often is because survivalist brain is like if the worst happens, the Feds do not have your back. If you lose the kids you have nothing much to live for on this island. Do not risk their lives, even if it sounds fun.

He fucking loves watching the kids talk to the other eggs. The constant taptaptaptaptap of signs being placed while they chat together makes him giggle. He also loves watching them just crouch and silently communicate.

Dude Rose's love for the two of them makes his heart so full. Like legit the first time she told him "they're under my protection" he nearly cried. And not just from relief that they'd be safe from EK.

And related: Oh my GOD does he fucking love the term "fledglings" for them. It's SO CUTE. Rose was so right for that. Something about it drives home the thought of "these are MY kids" even more. He just 🥺

Chayanne's mask reminds him of Techno's boar one sometimes and it makes him wanna cry /pos. If Chayanne ever mentions being guided by Techno's spirit to fight EK Phil will never recover

He loves this "new era" of Lullah, between her cutting her hair short a while back and now dying it + changing her hat. It feels like she's getting more independent despite everything and considering Phil used to have to Really hover around her to help her out, he's the world's proudest papa about it

He's told them stories about all the hardcore gods (that he knows of) at this point. Rose bc ofc he did. EK bc he kinda had to. The others bc at this point he's expecting them to poke their heads around at one point or another too. Chayanne loves Blaze. Lullah still loves Rose the most. She's gone on a rant about "Papa how the fuck is Ocean Overlord a god when he fumbles things so badly???" He wishes he knew, Lullah.

He wants to take them on a flight so bad it hurts. Literally. He's more angry EK fucked up his wings maybe permanently bc he robbed them of that than he is that EK did it to spite him.

He really really really hopes they do hatch some day and become lil dragon hybrids bc then he can watch them fly and teach them how to do it well (the best he can while he's grounded) (he might get a little envious)

He fucking LOVES sparring with the kids. He goes easy bc he's insanely skilled and experienced compared to Two Literal Children but they catch on and improve So Quick and it makes him so unbelievably proud and excited to see them demonstrate their skills in a real (hopefully non-lethal) situation.

[lament4piligrim]

Frozen heart knows no pain

Part 1

Chapter 1

Bi Han knelt in front of his father, biting his tongue until it bled, not daring to oppose a single word he said. 'You are the heir to this great clan. You should understand better than anyone how important this alliance is to us. Cut this thread and everything we've ever held dear will disappear.'' Of course, Bi Han understood. But he didn't understand why he should commit his life to a woman he had no feelings for. There were enough noble families in their clan that were devoted to Lin Kuei with all their hearts - marrying one of them off to the daughter of a friendly clan was quite possible. Why him? He hadn't even seen this woman's face!

So many thoughts were running through his head that it was about to explode. His father would be happy that this unworthy son would die here with his head bowed in shame. Clenching his hands into fists, scratching his palms, Bi Han nodded in agreement. The Grandmaster wouldn't accept any other answer anyway.

Kuai Liang and Tomas stood outside the door, humbly waiting for their brother. They hoped that their brother would be able to persuade their father not to be so rash, and that he would in turn be sympathetic to his son's choice. After all, there was nothing wrong with Bi Han falling in love with a simple village girl; besides, Mingzhu was a Lin Kuei warrior with potential.

But from Bi Han's slumped and irritable look, they realised that the attempt had failed.

"Don't be upset, Bi Han. Maybe we can try to convince father?" Kuai Liang offered enthusiastically, patting his older brother on the back.

However, Bi Han ignored him and silently retired to his quarters.

How naive they are…

Their father had easily fooled his brothers. He showered them with love and care and let them do whatever they wanted, thus creating the false image of a father they needed. If Bi Han had told them that they had given their hearts to a hypocrite, neither Kuai Liang nor Thomas would have believed it. They would simply conclude that Bi Han was just overheated and not thinking clearly, or that he was simply exaggerating.

Bi Han closed himself in his room without lighting the candles, walked to his bed and heavily collapsed face down on the soft pillows. He was too irritated and tired for any further training. Little did he need to injure someone else out of a fit of rage.

Unsure of how much time had passed, Bi Han heard a knock on his door. The first time, he ignored it. The second time, he ignored it… For the third time, the visitor had no more patience and raised his voice:

"Bi Han? It's me. Are you there?"

Mingzhu.

How would he face her? How would he say he had to agree to this mayhem?

"I'm coming in."

It looked like Bi Han had lain in his chambers for a very long time, since Mingzhu was in her casual clothes that she wore after training. She had a smile lighting up her face that made it seem as if she had never known adversity. The fresh fragrance of the oils on her skin pleasantly hit his nose. Bi Han slowly turned his head towards her, admiring her.

He didn't want to hurt her.

"Bi Han, I… understand. You couldn't resist Grandmaster," Mingzhu had a guilty look on her face.

Why did she feel guilty? It's not her fault at all that he's being tried to marry an unknown person! She shouldn't have to carry that burden on her.

"If I am a nuisance…"

"No."

Bi Han stood up abruptly and approached Mingzhu.

"Don't dare," he gently took her face with his palms and showered her with light kisses, "Let that old man do what he wants. But there's no way I'm giving up on you. As soon as I become Grandmaster, I will break this marriage."

"Bi Han…"

"I won't give up on you. If only you don't refuse, if only you don't want me to be a part of your life anymore, I will never accept this marriage. I don't care what anyone else thinks."

"I won't give up on you, Bi Han."

Cryomancer felt relieved. As long as they have each other, they can overcome this together. His brothers understand him and will accept any choice he makes. Mingzhu is by his side and won't give up on him, even if she has to be as a lover in everyone else's eyes. The rumours will be disgusting, but it will be his father's fault for dragging him into his games. Bi Han will be able to protect Mingzhu from evil looks and cruel sneers. All they have to do is wait until the power is in his hands. Then he can make things right.

Evenings in Harbin had never been warm. For those who once chose a life of luxury in a developed infrastructure, that did not seem to be a problem. But others who followed tradition faithfully, continuing to live as clans among the deserts, mountains and forests, coped with the cold in all sorts of ways. There were times when there was a catastrophic lack of resources for heating, and some clan warriors had to work tirelessly in the nearest towns to earn good money for firewood and coals.

As it happened, this year's winter was even harsher and more ruthless. Everyone in the small village felt its power, not risking to go outside.

Only one person was too insensitive to this weather. She didn't feel the frost that cut through her skin with sharp blades. Her heart and soul had long ago been covered with a thick layer of unbreakable ice.

Xuehua watched the woods from the balcony of her chambers, trying to digest what had happened in the past few days. As a result, they had decided to marry her off. So that she wouldn't feel "hurt" by her younger sister's gross misdemeanour. Both of them would marry worthy young men, but Xuehua would bring great benefits to their clan.

She had never experienced such an insult before. And for some reason, everyone in the clan supported her mother's decision, not caring that the victim should have gone into seclusion, come to her senses and find peace in her soul, rather than going into the arms of a strange man. And worse for the Lin Kuei Grandmaster's son.

Indeed, fate favours her.

It seemed that no one was going to stand up for her. Just hearing that a favourable candidate was coming from Lin Kuei, everyone seemed to lose their heads at the future gains. Her mother glowed with pride that her eldest daughter would be the future mistress of such an esteemed and powerful clan; some only encouraged and supported her enthusiasm. The younger sister might have opposed it, thinking it was too cruel to her. But under the pressure of the adults, she chose to remain silent, holding her fiancé's hand tightly.

'It's too late, sweetheart. There's no need to fake play. You got what you wanted,' Xuehua thought bitterly, clenching her icy hands on the railing.

"You haven't left your room in a while, jiejie. I was worried," the girl behind heard her younger brother's voice.

"It's not necessary,"

"Grandmaster was here. They have discussed things,"

"Of course they did," Xuehua snorted.

Sure enough, they had already decided everything, ignoring her existence. Mother is probably already jumping with joy.

"Maybe it's best for you, A-Hua? Away from A-Lu? It won't make you feel any better that she's staying here with that jerk. She intends to move your lab as well…"

"If she goes in there, she can't expect any good from me."

"Jiejie, I will do my best to make sure she is punished later," my brother took her cold hands in his palms, "Though I'm against mother's decision, but I think you'll do better in Lin Kuei. A-Lu gave them all sweet talk, now they're eager to get you out of here as soon as possible. Maybe they'll treat you better there. Think about it."

Brother's words didn't make it any easier. It was unlikely that she would be treated better in Lin Kuei. After all, this was a warrior clan that recognised power. And she was just a healer, albeit the best one currently living in all the clans.

Well, if there's nowhere else for her to go, she'll try to find her niche there. Maybe there'll be someone she'll feel comfortable with.

Maybe she should try to give herself and her future husband a chance.

P.S. Xuěhuā - "Snowflake", Míngzhū - "Pearl"

In the art below Xuehua's appearance close to my imagination. Art is from Pinterest, user @xichdiemcotich

[cinamun]

I love reeading comments on the story and it makes me wonder how much time do I spend reading this story cus I see some reduce all that DJ did was the "cheating " Incident (even tho he himself regrets it says it wasn't worth it) and moaning different girls name and feel bad for him and I'm like.. are we forgetting he repeatedly kept going to Amaya's school and was acting entitled that she can atleast say hello or get a sandwich with him and couldn't take no for an answer for a bit? Cus Amaya says, and I quote, "You don't even go here Darren! Why are you always here?" (Italics included) Ooorrr?? He even said he was mad with Jay for helping her transfer (so she wasn't in a place where she felt miserable.) As if his brother in law owes him not helping her! And then his solution to some shit Isa did was go scream at his momma as if this is her fault he can't just say a 3 letter name! DJ is a growing young adult making mistakes, and that's what makes him a good written character. We're seeing him actively fuck up and getting called out for it. It shows how carefully crafted he is and the work put into him. Darren is gonna make him realize where he fucked up. And he recognizes where he did a little bit but now has to face it. He's growing. And that's a damn good thing!! Idk maybe it's me. I don't feel bad for him, especially if he's actively recognizing where he fucked up. I'm more so intrigued how he's gonna figure himself out, and see him grow.

Damn nonny, no lies told! Even went back to UBrite with it!! There are layers to this and lets keep it a buck: this is our first real introduction to DJ going through some shit. Right?

Some call it ✨character development✨, but haven't we seen how Hope deals with adversity? What about Dira? DJ not so much, until the gawk heard 'round the simblrverse and bro still hasn't replaced that couch.

Anyway....

Y'all want part 2 of Sr. vs Jr. tomorrow or Sunday?

[strwberri-milk]

hi!

maybe love and deepspace guys (okay, rafayel) with an asexual reader? but, uh, hurt-comfort, you know. maybe them talking things out when reader reacts in a confusing way, gets too nervous... whatever, scared, and is kinda being called out

sorryineedreassurance hahaha. ty in advance whether you decide to write this or not!! wish you all the inspiration <3

i honestly think rafs somewhere on the spec too like. i dont see him being super super into casual hookups when you consider in his story how. absolutely whipped he is - also bc there wasnt really any specifications about reader's asexuality so im keeping it as general as possible

Rafayel feels very strongly about you. He adores everything about you and would be happy to do literally any and everything as long as it's with you. Sometimes, his feelings result in him seeking your presence in physical forms, clinging onto you desperately and trying to crawl under your skin.

Sometimes when things get a little too heated he has a tendency to get over excited. But once he feels you resisting against him he'll stop immediately and ask you what's wrong. He's being very careful trying not to overstep your boundaries but when you refuse his advances for the nth time he starts to worry that you don't actually like him as much as he thought you did.

He tries to talk to you about it but you don't seem to want to talk much. He'll let you get away with it for a while but one day he'll sit you down to seriously talk to you about why you're growing more adverse to him touching you. You start off by telling him that it's not that you're afraid of him touching you but it's a little more complicated than that.

He's concerned, trying to understand if he's done something to you. He's uncharacteristically serious for once, making you panic. You don't like the sombre look on his face, the quiet that's so against his normal nature that you start babbling and acting defensive in hopes that he'll drop it. It just makes him retreat even more, worried that he did accidentally do something wrong.

You can't handle how upset he looks, taking his hands in yours and promising him that you don't hate him. You slowly start to explain your feelings, that you love him more than anything but your sexual attraction/urges are a little different but it's not because you don't love him. He listens quietly as you tell him as much as you can, hoping your explanation is enough for him.

He understands better now that you're explaining it to him, nodding and taking things in slowly. He promises that it doesn't matter to him - all he wants is you, in whatever capacity you're willing to give him. He swears it, holding you tightly and reassuring you that he means it. He's waiting for you this long - all he wants is to make sure you're happy with him.

[doumadono]

Emergency Request!

Hi! I've followed your blog for a while now and I always really love your writing style. I have been hesitant to submit an emergency request because it's hard for me to think of something like this as an emergency just because I have to deal with it so often, but I've read a lot of your other emergency requests and I was hoping that maybe it might help me too.. I'm a trans man (he/him pronouns) and a lot of things have just felt so much harder to deal with than normal lately and I feel like most people are only attracted to me because I "look" like a girl and they are always so disappointed/disgusted when they find out that I'm a trans man..

That being said, I really love Akaza's character and unfortunately he's canonically primarily attracted to women/feminine people, and I was curious if you could possibly write something for him where he's with a trans man reader and the reader is extremely insecure about his identity and he is always afraid Akaza doesn't actually like him because of the fact that he's trans but Akaza is there to help calm his anxieties surrounding the topic? I'm sorry this was so long-winded and I completely understand if it's not something you feel comfortable doing. Thank you regardless, and I love your work and your page as always!!

A/N: Dear Nonnie, I want you to know that you are valid and deserving of love and acceptance just as you are! It's natural to have moments of doubt, but remember that your identity doesn't define your worth. The right people will appreciate and cherish you for who you truly are. Keep being your authentic self, and you'll find those who see your inner beauty and strength. I did my best to create this blurb for you, but please understand if it's not entirely accurate - it was challenging for me to capture the reader's perspective

MASTERLIST

In a small, secluded village nestled deep within the forest, he lived in an old, wooden house. It was a place where the tranquility of nature cocooned the world, but for him, it was also a sanctuary from the doubts that clouded his heart.

One moonlit night, as the stars painted the sky with their delicate glow, Akaza appeared as he had been doing for weeks. His pink hair seemed to ignite in the pale moonlight as he stepped into the cozy home his partner had made for himself. Akaza's presence alone was both thrilling and terrifying for the young man, who had become hopelessly enamored with the demon.

As Akaza entered, he could already sense his partner's unease. He took a moment to let his eyes roam the rustic interior, admiring the room the man had created. But his focus soon returned to the one who had captured his attention. "Is something troubling you, darling?" Akaza asked softly, his voice like a soothing melody.

The man hesitated before finally finding the courage to speak. "I can't help but worry. I feel like you're only attracted to me because I… I look like a girl."

Akaza's expression remained calm, his eyes filled with understanding. He approached his partner and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You underestimate yourself," the yellow eyed demon chuckled briefly.

"But I'm someone else, Akaza. I'm not like the women you usually spend time with. What if you finally realize that and decide you don't want to be with me anymore?" Tears started gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not drawn to appearances alone. I come here because of the person you are. Your strength, your resilience in the face of adversity I witnessed during our very first meeting — all of these qualities are what captivate me," the demon replied.

The young man's heart fluttered at Akaza's words, a glimmer of hope breaking through his insecurities.

Akaza smiled, his eyes reflecting the moon's soft light. "No two people are alike, darling. I cherish our time together because it's unique. Your identity doesn't change how I feel about you. You are worthy of love and acceptance just as you are."

"Are you sure, Akaza? Because I've been hurt before, and I'm afraid of getting hurt again…"

Akaza leaned in, brushing his lips against his boy's forehead, a tender gesture meant to reassure. "I promise, I'm here for you. I won't let anything come between us. I'll remind you every night of how much you mean to me. And just tell me who hurt you, and I'll make them pay."

As Akaza's words sank in, the young man felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. The anxieties that had plagued him for so long began to dissipate. In that moment, he understood that his connection with the demon was built on something deeper than appearances or gender.

"Demon's love is eternal and unyielding, my dear," Akaza quipped with a playful grin, "so good luck trying to shake me off."

Over time, Akaza continued to visit his partner, and their bond grew stronger.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Birds of a Foreign Land Must Fly.

...

*Shuichi, hiding out in Branch 2's Head Office, curls up into a ball and rests against the wall, burying his head in his arms and contemplating everything that happened...

Dammit...why...just...Why...?

'Cause life sucks buddy boy. Especially for omniversal immigrants like us.

GAH!?

*He almost falls over as a voice sounds out from near his desk.

K-Kokichi!? When and how did you get in here?

Well, considering you were devoting your eyes and ears to sobbing and crying, I doubt even your detective instincts could have noticed me when I just walked through the door.

...Are you here to cheer me up...?

Hah! Who do you take me for? That is NOT my thing!

Hehe...I guess not...

But even still. I'm DEFINITELY super curious. Whatcha crying about?

We won! Zetsubou are gone, Shirogane's toast, and the world gets to live on another day! So why the soppy face?

The way you ask that implies to me you know EXACTLY why I'm crying. Don't toy with me; now is not the time for your sick ideas of jokes...!

Yeah...Yeah, I figured...I heard about what happened.

*Kokichi runs his fingers across the desk.

Rantaro is permanently dead with no hope of being resurrected...Himiko is stuck as a mechanical-humanoid puppet and has to live out the rest of her life like that...and Tenko's such self-loathing moron that she ran away with her hair twirls between her legs...

That is three additional piles of shitness on top of everything else that you don't deserve to be burdened with.

It's nothing I can't handle...or at least...nothing I can't handle if I sit on it for a bit...

Aw, poor Shuichi...He's doing a ME!

Wh-What? Doing a...What?

What I always do to stay upbeat, positive, and strong in the face of adversity:

Lie to myself and say that everything is gonna be okay, even though I know it's not.

I told you I don't want to hear it! Rrgh!

Okay, I'll shut up now! Promise!

...*sigh*

Kokichi...This is probably a really stupid question that you're gonna get mad at me for, but I have to ask...

Do you think...mngh...Do you think it would have been better for everyone if we'd returned to the universe we came from?

...Why are you asking this...?

Lately, I've had a lot of thoughts on my mind, but throughout all of them, just one as been really prevalent. And that's the thought that no matter what I do, or how much I think I've done, our existence in this world only makes things worse...

This world was perfectly safe and peaceful until WE showed up...! The Future Foundation had everything covered, but the moment we arrived here...The moment Uchui dragged us into this world and out of our own...THAT'S when things started to go wrong.

So...I've been stuck thinking lately that maybe I'm the problem. That our arrival here was some kind of mistake, and now...now I've just let Shirogane go free! I know as much as Uchui wants to believe it that she's gone for good, but I KNOW she's not dead!

She's still out there, and she's going to hurt so many more people! And because I didn't kill her when I had the chance-!

[cosmicjoke]

hi! hope you're well :) im not sure if my ask went through or not bc my wifi was being glitchy and it didn't seem like it sent so pls disregard this if the ask happened to go through lol during the acwnr arc, we see isabel and furlan interacting with the scouts and it seems like they're genuinely engaging in conversations with them. both of them open up about their pasts and connections to levi, although im not sure whether it's a manipulation tactic to gain trust or if they truly felt comfortable opening up to these people they've gotten to know over the course of several months, according to the manga. my question is: aside erwin and that one interaction with hange, do you think levi interacted with other members of the scouts as well? obviously, levi isn't very approachable and is a pretty blunt guy. but if someone were to be friendly with him and treat him like everyone else, would he engage in a conversation, even if it's a small one, or just remove himself from it all-together?

im really curious to hear your thoughts on this as i always love hearing your analysis on levi <3

Hi there, and thanks for the ask! I don't think your first attempt went through, so no worries about sending it again!

First, about Isabel and Furlan, I can't see Isabel being manipulative, really. Her personality just doesn't seem naturally geared that way at all. She's a lot like Levi in that way, in that she's really honest with her emotions and thoughts, only obviously, a lot more outgoing and friendly than Levi. So I think her interactions with the other scouts was probably genuine. Furlan on the other might have been trying to cozy up to them to give them better cover and make their presence there seem less suspicious. Though given the way Furlan relates the story about Levi, I think he was being pretty genuine too. You can tell how much it meant to him, that Levi saved his life.

With Levi, I kind of doubt he interacted much with anyone, for one thing, as you said, because Levi sort of exudes an unapproachable vibe. Not intentionally, he's just a very introverted and quiet person and also, yes, very blunt, which no doubt rubbed plenty of people the wrong way. If Levi doesn't like you for any reason, he's probably going to tell you so. Most people would pretend just to make their own social interactions easier, but Levi doesn't do that. Like his interactions with Flagon, we see him basically unable to pretend to like the guy, even as it's making his, Furlan's and Isabel's situation more difficult. Or his unmoved attitude when Shadis gets in his face and tries to intimidate him. Levi's not too good at ingratiating himself to people or placating them. So I think that probably had a pretty adverse affect on his ability to get along with people at first, and find any, real social interaction. There's also the fact that Levi was reluctant to get close to any of the scouts, because he knew if he did, he would start to feel responsible for them and want to protect them. When Hange asks him if he would be willing to teach some of them his fighting techniques, Levi turns her down, and when Furlan asks him why, he says he doesn't want to be responsible for anyone else. That's Levi's fear talking. He doesn't want to get close to them or try to teach them anything to protect themselves, only for them to then get killed, because he knows it will weigh heavily on him. He knows he cares too much about people to keep a really detached or unaffected attitude about them and their well being. The difficulty for Levi is, even in trying to keep his distance so he doesn't end up caring about these people, he still does. Like the soldier who he saved at the beginning from impaling himself on a dummy titan, or the soldiers he had to watch die when the first abnormal titan appeared. Levi felt guilty that he learned from watching that happen how to approach killing the titan himself. He'd already developed a protective instinct toward all of them, despite not being close. I think that's why Furlan gets so worried when Isabel starts talking about understanding why the scouts do what they do. He knows Levi, and he knows Levi has a bleeding heart, and that he's already starting to feel an attachment to the soldiers around them. We see this demonstrated again later when we see part of the reasoning Levi leaves Furlan and Isabel behind is because he wants them to help protect Flagon and the rest of his squad.

So I think, if someone were to try and approach Levi and be friendly with him, for one, he'd be pretty surprised, as he was when Hange approached him and the others, but he'd also probably be reluctant to try and engage back, again because of that fear he has of growing close and then losing them. But I think if someone really, genuinely tried with Levi to be his friend, he would eventually reciprocate. Levi's never going to be some effusive, gregarious person. He's never going to be super talkative or outgoing or enthusiastic in his expressions. He's always going to appear very reserved and introverted and flat. But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy being with someone else. I think you couldn't wish for a better friend in the world than Levi. he's always going to be there when it really counts. When things are hard. He'll always be loyal. He'll always do his best to protect you and support you.

Basically, if someone just has the patience to keep trying with Levi, eventually you'll end up finding in him someone worth every ounce of effort.

[omegalomania]

i keep trying and failing to articulate what heartbreak feels so good feels like. but i guess the best way the say it is that the lyricism feels, to me, like a discussion of catharsis through the act of creation. and it sounds SO happy but it genuinely feels a bit sad to me? it might just be me. i swear to god i know i was just like "i dont really do lyrical analysis so much except in little snippets" but this song has me so intrigued and i have no idea if anyone else got those kinds of vibes from this.

but basically. right from the start, we have hope mixed with cynicism. the first line of the first verse is a compelling, optimistic hook: it's about how the future is up for grabs, and you have the power to shape it. and the second line adds in, no matter what they sell you, followed by that reference to the 2022 jordan peele film, "nope." i have not seen this film (yet) so i could not expand on the themes of it, but i did rb a really good analysis of that particular line there and i thought that was super compelling, especially given my read on the rest of the song. one thing that the analysis there says that REALLY got my brain going was how the movie nope comments on how the "bad miracle" is the spectacle of the complacency in watching something self-destruct. and op phrased it better than i did, but it's VERY applicable to the way fall out boy's whole legacy was shaped - through the commodification of the band, and of course primarily of pete, and the deification/demonization of his pain, his intimate details, the invasions of his privacy.

given what the rest of the song says, i thought that was super super applicable, especially paired with the prefix of no matter what they sell you. commodification is already a theme here.

nobody said the road was endless, followed by could we please pretend this won't end?

the road will end. you will eventually overcome that hardship. but crucially, the song doesn't want to overcome hardship. it wants the hardship to never end. it wants it to always be there.

and of course the line between those two - no one said the climb was friendless - because they've always been a band of brothers. they've always climbed this road together. again, that little kernel of hope sandwiched between those subtly saddening implications. nobody said the road was endless - and the road is not a good thing, as the prechorus will indicate to us. the fact that they're not alone is the only consolation they have in this.

It was an uphill battle but they didn’t know we were gonna use the roads as a ramp to take off

naturally, there's commentary on determination and persistence in the face of overwhelming adversity. but i love the way it's not just "we push through despite all that" it's "we succeed BECAUSE of that" - the roads are ramps! you take your pain and turn it into something that will launch you into the fucking stratosphere! but rather critically, you don't get anywhere without the uphill climb. a flat road is just a road. it's only with a steep incline that you can actually use your momentum to head skyward.

and that's the point, isn't it? heartbreak feels so good - not because it actually, legitimately feels good, but because it's only through heartbreak that you can make something profitable. heartbreak feels good because if you are broken, if you are not fixable, you can guarantee that you will remain a fixture in the industry. your pain is compelling. the second verse really cements that for me.

we said we'd never grow up It’s open season on blue moods

because obviously everyone writes about heartbreak. again, blue moods are big themes in music. if you're heartbroken, then as far as the world is concerned you're producing good art. likewise with the idea of "never growing up," since well especially with fob and the way they've been perceived, there's a general preconception that they're at their "best" when they've been kind of frozen in a state where they don't get to grow, change, or learn. if you're at your most prolific creatively at your saddest, then maybe the fans, the world, the industry likes you better like that. never growing up. never getting better.

taking a look back at the chorus, there's the whole interplay of crying and dancing, and that is what really makes my brain go brrrrr

We could cry a little Cry a lot But don’t stop dancing Don’t dare stop

the "don't stop dancing" part reminds me a bit of the song of the same name from bojack horseman. and if you're unfamiliar with bojack horseman, the cliff notes summary is that it's about a washed-up actor who was on a famous 90s sitcom and all the ways he is fucked up and hurts himself and hurts the people around him and how he struggles through it. it is RIFE with commentary on celebrity culture and it's an excellent show but also a genuinely hard watch. it is a show that i know that pete is at the very least familiar with, and thematically i can see why it would interest him.

anyway, the song "don't stop dancing" is sung twice in the show. the first time is while bojack is having a tremendous mental breakdown and he hallucinates/dreams his co-star singing to him so she can mock his self-pity and comment on the inherent absurdity of celebrity culture - the line that stands out for me here is why not sell your sadness as a brand? the second time, it is sung by a mental construct of his former co-star (who died an unnecessary, tragic death for which bojack was directly responsible) while bojack is drowning in a pool. the reprise is about the inevitability of death and what your legacy leaves behind - because bojack is dying in that moment, and the character singing the song here is dead and her death has cast a permanent shadow over the entire remainder of the show.

all this is to say that the "don't stop dancing, don't dare stop" bit feels genuinely kind of...like it sounds joyous, it's delivered as such, but it's also got that darker undercurrent to it? the thing is that the heartbreak is inevitable - the whole song is about how heartbreak is inevitable and it is gonna happen anyway. and you can cry all you fucking want about it, but you are not allowed to stop dancing. you are not allowed to stop turning your pain into art. because your pain is the most profitable thing about you.

We’ll cry later or cry now You know it’s heartbreak

cry later, cry now. cry a little, cry a lot. it doesn't matter when or how much you fucking cry about it as long as you keep dancing - keep creating. keep making something, making your fucking pain and misery and heartbreak worth it. because that is what the people love. that is what the people want to see. that is what sells records.

heartbreak feels so good precisely because it means you can make something out of it.

but then, that last bit of the chorus...oh. oh, my heart.

We could dance our tears away Emancipate ourselves

that last line. emancipate ourselves. i am reasonably confident that this is a direct reference to "redemption song" by bob marley. pete is familiar with marley's body of work and the phrasing is too specific, too deliberate. that line in "redemption song," emancipate ourselves from mental slavery, is in and of itself a reference to a speech made by marcus gavey, a jamaican activist. and there is legitimately so much in that alone. the fact that both the song and the speech are about slavery. the fact that marley wrote this song in '79 while he was already dying of cancer, and confronting his own mortality through his art. i wish i could articulate all that there is in that but i don't think i'm the right person to. but the fact that the chorus ends on that note, punctuating it with one last refrain of we'll cry later or cry now / but baby, heartbreak feels so good, that is what makes the song for me. that's what gives it that little zing. that's what elevates it to something much more hopeful. because again, the song sounds happy but says some pretty saddening/harrowing stuff. but the parting note is on that. emancipate ourselves.

"We are going to emancipate ourselves from mental slavery because whilst others might free the body, none but ourselves can free the mind."

and to have that happen in conjunction with "we could dance our tears away" is like.......you can survive free of whatever pain might plague your legacy - in more ways than one. we could dance our tears away - because while we are required to never stop dancing, never stop creating, it still helps, doesn't it, to make something beautiful from all that has hurt you? and there will always be people who want package that, sell it, make it into something that can be bought and advertised. but you can make yourself free of that, if you have the inclination. and i think the upbeat nature of the song is what supports that. it sounds jubilant but it also sounds...free. for all the ways that you might be weighed down by the onlookers, the people who want to profit off your pain, the people who prefer you broken, your ability to find catharsis and freedom through your craft is yours, and yours alone. and despite everything else, you can still find a release in that.

thats what gets me about this one. i cant stop rotating this song in my head and thats all

[captaincryolicious]

Hi! I love your writing! I just found your blog and have only read a few thing, but I'm fully planning on binging everything you've written so far.

I saw that your requests are open. May I request a Kazuha/reader fic (gn if possible?) where the reader is touch adverse? Like, if someone touches them without their permission/or their terms it can send them into an anxiety attack? Some days are better than others, some days they can be affectionate to an extent but others they just can't handle being touched at all?

It's totally cool if not! I have seen a lot of really cuddly Kazuha content lately, (not that there's anything wrong with that!) and as someone who is touch adverse, I though the change of pace might be cool.

Okay, I'm rambling now. I hope you have a great - insert time of day here-!

Kazuha with a touch aversive s/o

➳ Kazuha x gn!reader

➳ Headcanons ; 1.1k

➳ Fluff, comfort ; No warnings

The title says it all. [03.10.2022]

Zep's Note ; This request was made over a year ago but I finally got to write it (I HAD to, since I really relate to this). I'm sorry it took so long! Also, I went with headcanon format instead of a fic, I hope you don't mind!

content under the cut | masterlist

It was a mystery to you. 

The way people described physical touch as magical, as warm and safe, as loving and comforting, as a spark of joy that erased the sourness from one's mind and body. You couldn't even begin to imagine that; it sounded alien to you, impossible, as if it were something from an utterly different dimension than the one you lived in — which, in a sense, was true. 

All you ever felt when people touched you was panic, the strong urge to push them away and flee in a wave of fear, discomfort and anxiety washing over you. It made your heart race, your skin burned where you had been touched, your breath would hitch before accelerating, but in a way most negative. 

No one, not even your closest loved ones such as your own family, were allowed to hug you, give you an encouraging pat on your shoulder, ruffle your hair or hold your hand when times got rough. It was a barrier so unbreakable, and even you often failed to understand why.

Why couldn't you relish in the affection of loved ones? Why did it bring you the exact opposite of what people described? How could something supposedly so beautiful bring forth such negativity within you? 

What was most painful, maybe, was how no one found it in them to truly love you in a romantic way. You tried, others tried with you, but it never lasted. Of course no one wanted a relationship with someone who did not want to be touched at all, you bitterly thought. That's why you always ended up on your own. Loneliness gnawed at you, and painfully so. Maybe you were meant to be alone, simply because your stupid curse. 

You believed so, until he came around. 

Kaedehara Kazuha. A name that brought so much happiness to your life ever since that awkward moment when the two of you met. He wanted to shake your hand that day, causing you to freeze on the spot. Usually that would lead to taunting laughter and confused faces, but not with him. The male with hair as pale as the moon regarded you with a certain understanding in his ruby eyes, taking a step back and introducing himself with a kind smile. 

You instantly trusted him that day, and until this very day the faith you put in him only grew more and more.

Kazuha is a real sweetheart, so understanding and very patient with your touch aversion. 

He never pushes through when you draw a line, he always respects your boundaries. 

He got used to it so quickly, adapting to what you called your curse seemingly with ease. Of course he slipped up a few times in the very beginning, but his profuse apologies were sincere and he would do whatever it took to soothe you again.

But as I said, Kazuha swiftly adapts and does everything he can to show you how much he loves you in a way that doesn't bring you any discomfort. 

Taking you on little dates, looking at you with the warmest smile ever, being super romantic in ways that don't involve touch, and his favorite; writing you haikus. 

Of course not every day is the same. There are good days and bad days, and the difference between those starts to grow when your bond of trust with Kazuha grows.

On bad days, where being touched will send you into a pit of anxiety from the discomfort that seems to take over, even when it's him, he will always reassure you that it's okay, that he loves you more than anything in the world and that your boundaries are totally valid.

He will keep reminding you, because that one day where you told him how afraid you were of him leaving you because of your curse broke his heart. 

"Love is so much more than physical touch alone," he tells you, and his instincts are screaming to hold you close and comfort you because you look so miserable but he knows better. He simply sits opposite of you, patient as ever, looking at you with calm eyes as he thinks of other ways to cheer you up. 

On bad days, he learns a lot about you. It's those days that show him your preferences and habits, things that make you smile and bring you joy, objects and gestures that bring some peace in the turmoil when a comforting hug is out of the question.

Let's be honest, in the beginning he struggled with what he could do to make you happy if he couldn't shower you with affection. He had to get a little creative, but he picked up all the little details in no-time; your favorite time of the day, your go-to snack, topics of conversation that brought a spark to your eyes, hobbies and other ways of passing time you enjoyed, small things he did that would bring a smile to your face, and so on. 

He got to know you super fast, and despite the lack of affection, the two of you are like, really really close.

But then there are the good days.

It barely happened in the beginning, but as you grew more at ease around Kazuha, there are more and more days on which you feel like you can drop your boundaries a little. 

Days where it genuinely brings you a ginger feeling of joy when the male is hesitantly affectionate.

Those days where you feel like holding his hand, when you can stand the sensation of his fingertips on your skin. Days where you carefully lean against him, your heart beating rapidly as you try to make sense of what you are feeling. Days where you let him cup your cheeks softly and have him gaze at you full of love. Rare days, where you are brave enough to let Kazuha hold you against him in a hug so frail, as if you are made of glass. 

He is so careful with you, pouring all his love into his gentle touches while closely keeping an eye on how you are feeling; as soon as he finds the slightest hint of discomfort on your face, he backs off. But it happens less and less, because you genuinely feel safe with him. 

On good days, you begin to understand why people describe physical touch as something dreamlike. 

But the next day, it could be all gone. 

Kazuha never touches you without permission or without you taking the initiative. He always waits for you. He's so selfless, all he cares about is you and your wellbeing. 

He is so so so patient with you, and he truly respects your boundaries. It doesn't even take effort for him. It comes with ease, as if it grew to be his second nature, simply because he loves you so dearly.

You're safe with him.

[iwritetopassthetime]

home to you (9/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

CHAPTER EIGHT: Epilogue // Previous chapter // Masterlist

Wordcount: 5.9K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: none for this chapter apart from tooth-rotting, diabetes-inducing fluff that will melt your insides and you will shart them out like yesterday's chilli, Bradley and Blossom get the happy ending they fucking deserve woo-fucking-woo!

Song inspiration: Lover by Taylor Swift

A/N: I'm really happy with the ending of this story, it was a joy to share it with all you wonderful people. I don't know you and I wish I did so I could give each and every single one of you a hug (because you basically made me a little happier with your support over the last few weeks). I'm definitely gonna write more about Bradley and Blossom, I already have head canons and shorts in the works, and if you have any thoughts share them, I'll be happy to stay in the bubble I've created with these two lovebirds for as long as I can!

Bradley drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, vaguely keeping in rhythm with the song playing on the radio. Either that or the blinkers, he wasn’t exactly paying attention. He’d put on the radio to pass the time, but had inadvertently failed to pay much attention to whichever mixtape he’d shoved into the player.

The mid-afternoon sun was beating down on the Bronco as it sat in the same place next to the sidewalk for the past twenty minutes. Even with the air conditioning on, the late August heat was uncomfortably warm on Bradley’s forearms. He reached over for the glove compartment, searching for the small bottle of sun cream that you’d casually dropped into the shopping cart few weeks prior. 

‘I can’t allow you to keep getting sunburnt and then wait for it to just go away on its own, Bradley’ you’d justified the off-the-shopping-list purchase and Bradley merrily followed along. He wasn’t going to pretend that the cream hadn’t done miracles for his face whenever you joined the Dagger squad for a weekly trip to the beach. 

So he lathered a good amount of it on his arms.

He checked his watch again; he couldn’t tell if you taking so long was good or not. The interview would’ve finished by now as you were given a very specific time slot. But if they kept you longer, that could only mean that they were interested in you and Bradley would think them stupid if they didn’t. 

Bradley leaned his head back against the seat and stared out his window at the vehicles driving past him. When he got too agitated doing that, he pulled out his phone and checked for any missed calls, messages and emails. When he found none, he opened his internet browser to — at the very least — complete today’s game of Wordle. After three tries he got four of the five letters down and it was a piece of cake to guess the word. How many times a day does he even use or think of the word fjord? 

He checked again to see if you were exiting the building, but there was no sign from you. Just tall French windows that led into a specious lobby with a simplistic receptionist desk. Behind it was an entire wall covered by a vertical garden, consisting of some ferns and other things that you’d most likely know the name of. You’d know how to take care of them, how to pair one plant with another depending on the type of soil, which time of year they’d be best to plant and when they’d flower. Bradley really hoped the interviewers would see that.

The past three months had been filled with change for you; three months since the-dick-who-will-never-be-named turned up at the Hard Deck to try and strong-arm you into going back to L.A. with him. Over my dead body, Bradley had thought then and that position hadn’t changed one bit. You had been pretty shaken up by the ordeal and he remembered that night as well as he remembered the first time you showed him the bruises on your neck. He’d feel angry for what that guy did to you, then he’d grow sad that there wasn’t more that he could do, but those emotions were opposed by two stronger ones: admiration for how strong you were despite your sweet and soft nature, and adoration.

You’d cried your eyes out on his chest when you were both back at Penny’s, laying in bed. Bradley had made sure to keep your injured hand on his chest so it would stay elevated during the night. You’d taken some ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and help with the pain, but no pill could’ve helped with the sadness that washed over you the moment you laid your head on his chest. Bradley’s hand on your hair had smoothed it down repeatedly and very gently, aware that you might be anxious to allow him to do so after having it violently yanked at by that guy. Whispered reassurances and words of praise were the only thing that had accompanied your sniffles as your breathing eased and you had finally fallen asleep in Bradley’s embrace.

Many things had changed after that night. 

All for the better, of course. 

Once Phoenix and Frankie had returned from L.A., with all your belongings hastily stuffed into boxes or bags and their promise that your ex would never look for you again, your days began returning to the normalcy they’d assumed over the past month. 

Penny had started taking you to see her therapist which furthered the improvement. You were more relaxed and felt calmer around people, you’d told Bradley. You had stopped looking over your shoulder every time someone walked through the doors of the Hard Deck.

‘I’m gonna start looking for a job in some landscaping companies,’ you’d told him whilst out on a dinner date. Bradley couldn’t be happier; after the amazing job you’d done with Penny’s backyard, it was clear to him that you had a talent and it deserved all the recognition you could get. So you’d put together a nice portfolio, containing pictures of your work at your last place and plenty of your most recent one. 

Bradley’s personal favourite (and he’d made sure to get a copy of it) was a picture taken from the steps to the backyard, early in the morning when the light of the morning sun shining above the roofs of the house behind lit up all the flowers and made them glow in deep oranges, reds and pinks. The picture was a testament to your skills as a gardener and captured a place and a time that was so special to you both.

Bradley had attached it to his visor so even now when he pointlessly pulled it down just to stare into his own reflection and kill a few seconds, the picture made him feel as warm as the sun rays looked on it. 

The passenger door opened and climbed onto the seat next to Bradley as he snapped the visor shut. He leaned over and gave you a quick peck with a murmured hello again, baby before you reached for your seatbelt. 

You always looked pretty, in anything you wore and particularly when you wore nothing at all. But today you looked stunning; a crisp white blouse with the top two buttons undone, fitted jeans and your black sneakers that were double washed, the white rubber polished to perfection. You looked every bit professional and beautiful, from your exposed, delicate ankles to your hair which had gone through the most drastic change over the past few months. 

After the incident, you had spent days where you felt uncomfortable with your hair, with its length and how it brushed against your shoulders. It pained Bradley that he couldn’t fully understand the extent of your pain and that he couldn’t help you. As far as he knew you had a very special connection to your hair that your mother had nurtured in you from an early age. So having something so special for you attacked… it made sense when you came up to him one afternoon and asked him to drive you to Penny and Amelia’s hairdresser.

The neat pixie cut you’d gotten fit you so well. At the salon, Bradley had tried to stop string at you through the mirror but he had been so terribly excited to see the light come back to your eyes when you ran your fingers through your much shorter hair.

Three months later and it had started to grow slowly, more noticeably around your ears and at the back of your neck. Your fringe would fall across your forehead and tickle against your eyelashes. The hairstyle allowed for your ears to poke out from the sides and give you very elf-like look which you wore well. 

Most importantly, you seemed comfortable in your body and that was all Bradley needed to know.

He watched you patiently as you settled back in your seat and placed your tote bag in your lap with a somewhat dejected sigh.

His heart gave a pang at the sound.

‘Didn’t go well?’

‘No, no, it was great,’ you replied with a small smile, but a pout was in the corner of your mouth. ‘It’s weird… They liked the stuff in my portfolio and I like the company. The stuff they do is really diverse, like, they’ve been contracted to do maintenance on some botanic gardens around the state.’

‘That’s cool.’

‘The salary is good as well. Not that it’s all that matters, but it would give me my financial independency back, you know.’

Bradley nodded. ‘So what’s wrong then?’

‘Twenty rejections from companies that are much less stellar than this one,’ you explained softly. ‘Doesn’t make sense why these people would want to hire me. I’m supposed to get a call back tonight to know for certain, but I really don’t wanna get my hopes up.’

Bradley started the jeep and clicked the indicator before turning left to get onto the road. He lifted his hand from the shift stick at the first red light and placed it tenderly on your knee. Your own hands came atop his and he gave your leg a squeeze. 

‘You might be overthinking it, Blossom,’ he said softly and with an equally soft smile. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s go grab lunch and do some last minute shopping for the barbecue tonight. Don’t think about the call, don’t think about work and when they do call tonight, I’m one hundred percent sure it’ll be to confirm you’re hired.’

‘You think so?’

‘Like I said, hundred percent sure,’ Bradley assured you. ‘Do you want grab some Taco Bell then.’

You tilted your head and gave him a look that said do you need to even ask, making Bradley chuckle to himself as the traffic light turned green.

‘But we’ll have to get Amelia some too,’ you added. ‘She’ll smell it on us from a mile away and give us grief about not also getting her some.’

After a quick trip to Taco Bell, Bradley took you to the nearest park to eat your lunch. He stopped the Bronco near the edge of sprawling grass area where families and their children were enjoying the sunny day. The line of tall trees that surrounded the park casted a colourful shadow on the ground and allowed instant relief from the late summer heat. 

As the two of you got out of the car, you grabbed the paper bags and let Bradley helped you onto the hood of the Bronco. The metal was warm from sitting under the sun for so long but was not too uncomfortable to sit on. A gust of wind blew through the trees, rustling through Bradley’s half-opened shirt and cooling his heated skin a little. 

Bradley leaned back on his palms as he watched you take item after item from the take away bags and array them in a small feast. You scooted closer to him and threw your legs over his, stuffing some fries that were generously dipped in melted nacho cheese in your mouth before feeding him some too. 

Bradley hummed contentedly, taking your wrist in his hand and bringing your fingers to his mouth to suck on the spice that remained on your thumb. You choked out a half laugh, half gasp and he let your hand drop to his chest, grinning devilishly your way. 

‘Did I tell you you look gorgeous today?’ He asked softly. 

You playfully rolled your eyes, ‘Only ten times since this morning.’

‘Only? Man, I should’ve been into three-digit numbers by now, I’m falling behind.’

‘It’s okay, you can make up to me,’ you quipped, handing him a taco. Bradley took it from your hand but immediately put it down on his side as he instead placed his hand on your cheek and pulled you in. His lips pressed against yours without any urgency, just simple affection. 

Bradley pulled back just to leave a quick peck to the tip of your nose. ‘How’s that?’

‘Perfect,’ you sighed through a grin. You turned a little in your place to lean against Bradley’s chest and munched on a quesadilla. He took the taco you’d given him from the hood, unwrapped it and bit down on the crispy shell. 

The light shined through the tree canopy to paint your tangled legs in sunspots. The distant sound of laughter and dogs barking were still louder than cars driving outside the bounds of the park and submerged you both in a sense of calm.

Bradley pressed his nose to the crown of your head and smiled as the sweet aroma of your cocoa butter shampoo hit his senses. It also reminded him of rubbing said shampoo into your scalp earlier that day while your arms were lazily rubbing the loofah down his naked back and he was loathe to admit just how smug that memory made him. 

‘Can you believe it’s been four months already?’ You quietly asked. Bradley shook his head against yours and you leaned further into his touch. 

He could very easily believe it in fact, because he remembered each and every day he’d spend with you in his life, from your first meeting to this day. He’d made up a calendar in his mind and at the end of each night when he’d lay his head on the pillow and you’d curl around him like his very own koala bear, he’d blissfully cross out yet another date. 

You lifted your hand to his mouth again to feed him a couple more fries. ‘Feels like yesterday,’ you admitted through a smile. Bradley hummed, kissing the top of your head again to give his wordless agreement.

A couple of children that had been chasing a ball some distance away from the Bronco, kicked it close enough that it bumped the front left tyre. The two giggled as they skidded off to retreat it, drawing near the car and being momentarily distracted by your make-shift picnic. Bradley stifled a smile into your hair as you waved and warmly greeted the two kids. 

They waved back, but otherwise seemed more interested in the abundance of junk food you were surrounded by. They were quickly warded off by their parents who yelled at them to behave and don’t bother those nice people, Jeremy so they hastily retrieved the ball before running back towards the grassy knoll that was their playground. 

Bradley reached around you for the carton cup holder and offered you your drink before pulling out his. As he slurped the chilled Pepsi, he heard the soft sigh you let out as you noticeably turned your head against his shoulder. His hand that was holding the cup dropped down and he tilted his face so he could peer down at your pensive expression. 

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah… um, would you ever want one?’ You fully turned your face to look at him and your eyebrows scrunched adorably. ‘A kid, that is. I know we’ve never discussed it and I don’t know if you think that three months is too early to be talking about children.’

‘Yeah, I’d love to,’ he gently interrupted your worried rambling and your face visibly relaxed. ‘I’m guessing you do, too?’

‘I’ve always dreamed of it. Not yet though…’

‘Hey, there’s no rush.’

He caught the edge of your mouth drawing up in a smile as you turned your head back around to watch the tranquil park. Bradley rubbed your shoulder with his free hand and kissed your temple. 

Of course, he’d thought plenty about having children and as of these past few months, he’d started to picture that life with you. He agreed with you that it was still very early in your relationship, but that didn’t stop his brain from delving into those deep caverns in his consciousness that contained all his desires of a happy, family life. A couple, maybe three kids — you’d always have final say on that subject — and maybe a dog, he’d always wanted a dog. 

‘Bradley,’ you softly called his name and he hummed in response, prompting you to continue. ‘If I manage to get a job—’

‘When you get the job,’ he corrected, still firm in his decision that this last interview had been a success and you were simply overthinking it.

‘Okay, okay.’ His whispered good girl was met with a tiny noise of appreciation as you wiggled your shoulder against him and looked back up at him. ‘When I get the job…’ Bradley bobbed his head in a nod and smiled around the straw of his cup, ‘where do you want us to live? Because we’re still mostly living at Penny’s, but we’ve been to your place on base a couple of times.’

‘And you hated it,’ Bradley chuckled at the memory of the first time he took you to his assigned flat on North island and the thoroughly unimpressed face you pulled when he parked the Bronco in the driveway.

‘I didn’t exactly hate it,’ you argued. ‘It’s just… there’s no place for me to do gardening and that’s a deal breaker for me.’

Bradley nodded along.

‘I wanted to know what you thought. If you wanna move fully into that flat, then I’ll just get pots and grow herbs in the kitchen. That’s good enough for me.’

But that wouldn’t be enough for him; Bradley wanted whichever place you ended up living in to be as much yours as it was his. He didn’t want you to make that big of a compromise because he knew how much you loved tending to plants. Pots of herbs in the kitchen were fine by him, but not as your only source of diversion. 

There was also the subject of his work and the general sense of uncertainty that came with it. How long would he be stationed on North island with the rest of the Dagger squadron? His last stint at the Golden Warriors lasted about five years and the only way they’d let him stick to his current location was if he married. Which wasn’t an altogether bad idea, just a little early for him to be popping the question. No matter how much it suddenly appealed to him…

‘Here’s my plan.’ You settled your hands in your lap as you patiently waited for him to elaborate. ‘Let’s wait for you to start the job, see how you feel there the first two or three weeks, and we can start looking for some place in the area. And we’re getting a house with a sufficient garden space so you can do your magic, that’s a deal breaker for me as well. What do you think?’

Bradley felt his heart swell with joy when he saw the excited smile that grew on your lips before you planted them briefly on his and your delicate hand rested against his chest. Just above where the thumping organ was making every effort to jump right out of him and land in your palm. 

‘I think it’s a wonderful plan,’ you admitted quietly after parting your lips from his. ‘Let’s just see if they actually hire me before we set anything into motion.’

‘They will hire you!’ Bradley argued and you laughed in response. He shook his head. ‘Oh, I’ll try really hard not to gloat when you get the call back to confirm it.’

‘Alright, alright,’ you poked his ticklish side, making Bradley convulse and let out a very high-pitched shriek. He took your by the arms — ever gentle whenever he held you — hoisted you over his lap and dig his fingers just below your left armpit where he knew you to have a very soft spot.

You squealed with laughter as he tickled you and wiggled against his arms without the actual desire for him to let you go. Bradley stilled his hands against your side, his fingers dropping down to hold onto your waist as your giggling quieted down. You grinned up at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Bradley lowered his face, his mouth ghosting against yours and leaving a trail of gooseflesh wherever he almost left a kiss. 

‘Bradley.’ 

Your sigh of his name was perhaps one of his favourite sounds, made him positively feral. 

Bradley lowered his mouth to your neck and felt you twitch against his chest when his moustache rubbed against the soft skin, just below the line of your jaw. Your mouth opened by his ear for another soft sigh to come out out, impale his senses and drive all the blood from his body down to his cock. Your reaction to feeling him grow harder beneath your ass was instantaneous and you chuckled somewhat triumphantly.

‘Why do I feel like I’m winning at this despite you having me pinned down,’ you purred against the shell of his ear and Bradley felt a full body tremor go through him when your hot breath brushed his skin. 

‘It’s ‘cause I’d let you win at anything.’ His soft admittance was muted against the slope of your neck where he began sucking a small, but evident enough love bite. 

‘Now where’s the fairness and gen- gender equality in that?’ Your response came shakier than you probably intended; what you did next was to slowly lift your chin up and allow him more access. 

When Bradley pulled back to examine his work — the nice round red shape that was partially covered up by the collar of your blouse — he felt warmth rush to his face and neck at the sight. Leaving a love bite like that was so horribly base and primal, but something about it was mildly arousing. Mine, it claimed and a deeply embarrassed groan rumbled in his chest. 

Bradley dropped his forehead on your shoulder. You softly laughed, ‘Aw, what’s wrong, Mr Big-Strong-Navy-Man?’

He loved your teasing. The first time it happened was like the sun had come out and he was seeing you differently, not in a bad way but in a wow-my-girlfriend-is-fucking-amazing kind of way. 

‘As much as I’d enjoy you marking me like that,’ you began softly and made Bradley lift his head to look at you. ‘I’d much rather you do that when there aren’t any children nearby.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley nodded and kissed the tip of your nose. ‘Maybe I should’ve also waited till after the barbecue, huh?’

You hummed and tried to peek at the small red love bite. ‘I dunno. Isn’t that kind of the point of it, show it off?’

There was a humorous lilt to your voice yet it sounded so serious that Bradley’s breath hitched. If you really wanted it he’d leave all the love bites he could, in every place on your beautiful body where you wanted him to. His impassioned thoughts were momentarily ceased as you held up a finger.

‘And though I’d love to continue, we really need to get going if we want to beat the traffic and make a pit stop at the supermarket.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley said again as he helped you off of the hood of the jeep. 

You smirked up at him as you gathered the left over paper bags from your lunch. ‘You know, I’m really starting to like the sound of that.’

‘I bet you do, princess.’

You bumped your hip against his and stuck your tongue out before skipping off to the nearest bin to dispose of the trash. Bradley simply leaned against the Bronco and watched you with a half grin and eyes that were trying their best not to stare at your ass as you walked away from him. With you he discovered just how true hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go was.

Frankie’s red Subaru, Hangman’s vintage Ford Mustang and Fanboy’s Toyota were already parked in a perfect line along the curb outside of Penny’s house when the two of you got there. The sun was getting lower and lower on the other side of the two-storey homes that lined the street and the sky was replacing its soft blue hue for an intense shade of pink and orange with only the occasional wisp of a cloud breaking the continuity.

Bradley turned right into the driveway and killed the engine right behind Penny’s jeep, before grabbing the few shopping bags that were sitting on the back seat.

He took a second to take in the look and size of it, a bit narrow in the leg room but still very much specious. He thought that it could potentially hold a couple of booster seats if he—

‘Bradley, baby, are you coming?’ 

Yeah, maybe he should definitely give those thoughts a rest for now. No use in getting ahead of himself even if the seed was now planted in his mind and there was no way it’d die out with how generously you were cultivating it. Especially with how absolutely ravishing you looked in that outfit.

Bradley jogged around the car with the bags in hand. You offered to take at least one or two of them to help out but he refused, suggesting you head on upstairs if you wanted to change. You kissed his cheek and reminded him to put the cupcakes you two bought in the fridge lest the icing became more like sludge. 

Bradley made a beeline for the kitchen after he watched you rush upstairs and disposed the bags onto the island. He could now clearly hear voices and music coming from outside. The steady hum of the cicada song accompanied them in what sounded like a perfect evening to finish off summer before autumn began. 

As he was moving things to cupboards or to the fridge, Bradley could distinctly make out Fanboy and Bob’s heated discussion about the team’s plans for Halloween which meant that summer was truly done. Next, they’ll probably have to think about Christmas decorations. 

Bradley smiled at the thought of spending Christmas with you, spending any holiday with you really. Made him excited about things he’d spent years avoiding because they used to remind him of just how much he’d lost. But now he had you and the rest of his odd little family which made him eagerly expect the upcoming holidays. 

‘Hey, Rooster!’

Bradley turned to see Maverick walk into the kitchen through the back door. He waved at his godfather as he walked up to the pantry in search of something. He muttered under his nose before poking his head out.

‘Did you get cumin by any chance?’

Bradley lifted a small jar with a small grin and carefully tossed it at the older man who easily caught it.

‘Sorry, we’re late, we grabbed some lunch and lost track of time,’ Bradley explained as he folded the shopping bags and put them in their allocated cupboard underneath the countertop. Maverick waved a hand dismissively.

‘That’s alright. Hangman and I just started putting the, uh… vegan sausages on the grill. Any news from the job interview?’

‘They’ll be calling her by the end of today,’ Bradley told him. ‘She’s a little anxious they’ll turn her down, but I think this might be it.’

‘I looked them up online, they do some really cool stuff,’ Maverick explained, reached into the fruit bowl. ‘Do you think orange goes well with beef?’

‘It does. Blossom took me to a Thai restaurant the other week and we had some amazing orange beef skewers.’

‘Alright, I’ll get Coyote to add this to the marinate at the end so we can try it out. Oh, I actually wanted to give you something,’ Maverick put the oranges back down on the counter before reaching into the pocket of his bomber jackets. He pulled his hand out, revealing a small navy blue box with velveteen lining. A ring box. 

Bradley looked at his godfather with a slightly bemused expression. ‘Mav, I’m flattered, but I’m half your age and you’re kinda like my uncle.’

‘Very funny, Rooster. Open it.’

Maverick pushed the box towards him and Bradley obligingly opened it up. He paused when in the middle of the cushioned inside sat two rings that he was very familiar with. The smaller one — a thin golden band with a single zirconium rock at the head — had rested on the finger of a hand that held his. A hand that ruffled his hair each morning as a greeting. A hand that he’d cherished like his life.

The larger ring — a simple wide band with no embellishments — he vaguely recalled on someone else’s hand but throughout his younger years, it used to hang at the end of a very long chain, along with two dog tags.

His mother and father’s wedding rings. 

Bradley slowly looked up at Maverick whose eyes were still on the box, glistening with mournful tears. He smiled tightly and cleared his throat. 

‘These’s, uh… your mom made me promise I’d keep them safe for you,’ Mav explained tensely. ‘Thought it be a pretty good time to give them to you.’

Bradley’s throat closed up as he nodded in understanding, clutching the box tighter in his hand. ‘Thanks, Mav. I— Blossom and I just talked about moving in together into our own place, once she gets the job… these might be a little early.’

Maverick huffed, ‘I know, I know. I’m just really happy for you two, kids. Thought I’d just pass these along as instructed. Who knows… your dad proposed to your mom by the third month of their relationship and that was considered an extremely long courtship in 1985.’

Bradley grinned and swallowed down the sudden influx of emotion that threatened to spill out of him. He carefully closed the box and pocketed it just in time as the sound of your feet pattering down the stairs reached his ears. 

‘They called! Oh my god, they called!’

You appeared at the entrance of the kitchen in his UVA sweatshirt and a pair of black bike shorts. Bradley looked at you in excitement, waiting for you to reveal what he already knew. He could see it in your wide, elated eyes. 

Your bare feet padded against the wooden floor as you ran up to Bradley and engulfed him in a hug, your arms wrapping around his middle. 

‘I’m hired! You were right, I’m hired!’

‘That’s great, baby!’ Bradley kissed the top of your head, his chest filling with instant pride. He didn’t doubt for a second you’d make it even after all the rejections you got from from previous places. He knew that was the place for you.

‘Congratulations, kiddo!’ Maverick came around the island to pat you on the shoulder as you lifted your head off of Bradley’s chest. Your eyes were glistening and the smile wouldn’t fall off your lips whatever happened. He loved seeing you like this, without a single worry hanging over your head. 

Bradley kept one hand on the lower of your back as you pulled away. You took a deep breath to calm down but it was obvious that you were too exhilarated. You looked between Bradley and Maverick.

‘Did I interrupt a conversation?’

‘No, no,’ Bradley hurried to assure you.

‘I was just grabbing something for the marinade,’ Maverick added. He grabbed the oranges from the island countertop and made for the back door. ‘Bradley, grab a six-pack from the fridge and let’s head out.’

‘Be there in a second,’ he told his godfather before turning back to you. You smiled up at him and stood up on your toes to give him a kiss, arms coming about his shoulders to pull him closer. Bradley let his own arms wrap again around your waist and rub soft circles though the material of the sweatshirt. 

The two of your separated after a moment and Bradley nuzzled his nose against yours, drawing a soft giggle from your mouth. Your fingers clutched at the lapels of his shirt. 

‘I’m so proud of you, Blossom.’ 

‘It’s unreal,’ you admitted shyly. ‘I feel like I need to pinch myself.’

Bradley shook his head. ‘It’s real and you deserve it. Did they say when you start?’

‘Monday next week,’ you told him. ‘I’ll get my own office in their building, but they’ll need me to jump on a project that their previous horticultural expert left. Can you believe it? They said that my knowledge puts me at expert level!’

‘Okay, so we have the whole weekend to celebrate your new title, Madam Horticultural expert.’

You chuckled and playfully slapped his chest.

‘Come on now.’ Bradley jogged to the fridge to pull out a six pack of Budweiser before taking your hand and walked you towards the backyard. ‘My girlfriend got a cool new job and I need to brag about he to all my friends.’

‘Alright then, Lieutenant.’

Bradley grinned widely, an expression was reflected on your own face as he pushed the door open and called out to everybody, ‘Blossom got the job!’

The exclamation was met with loud cheering from the squadron that was at different ends of the garden space.

The picnic table was extended by another small circular table and more chair were added around it to fit the big party. Bob, Fanboy, Payback and Amelia were sitting around the main table, playing Uno which Amelia was seemingly winning to the three men’s dismay. Coyote was mixing up marinade at a foldable table next to the grill with Hangman hanging over his shoulder and giving unnecessary instructions that his boyfriend who was pointedly ignoring them. Penny was making her way over to you and Bradley with Frankie and Phoenix in toe to congratulate you.

Bradley made room for the three other women by taking a small step back, but lingered by your side as he was too happy to even think of going anywhere else. He wanted to stay by your side and see that look of joy on your face every day for as long as he lived. 

The box in his cargo shorts weighed down and its importance was not missed by him. Bradley patted it, promising himself to hide it well tonight. He already knew he’d spend the rest of his life with you, he already knew he’d want to have children with you. But if he was going to do it, he wanted it to be a perfect moment. 

Tonight was such a moment, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he took away the spotlight from your achievement. You deserved all the praise that your aunt and your friends were showering over you as you swatted them away, humbly promising that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Bradley felt your fingers thread through his as you pulled him with you to follow the other three women to the picnic table. The two of you were directed to a foldable loveseat by a very smug Phoenix who kept eyeing your neck. 

‘Can we can start looking for our own place?’ You asked him as soon you were both sat down. 

Bradley reached for two bottles of Bud and handed you one. ‘Yeah, I don’t see a reason why not.’

You smiled brightly as you looked up at him. Bradley wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to himself. Neither of you knew it at that time but the same thought came to your minds as you watched the other; wherever life took you, wherever you lived, that place would be home because it’s what you and Bradley were to each other. 

Home.

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tags: @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @youlightmeupfinn @craftymoonchaos @the-winter-marvel33 @agent-jbarnes @blahehblah @katieshook02 @amysteryspot @daisyhollyxox @marantha @piceous21 @mak-32 @twoosinrooster @adoringsebstan @everyoneslovechild @shityoudidntaskfor @alluringshawn @marsontoast @lemur46 @taytaylala12 @benhardysdrumstick @strangeangelflapsuitcase @shanimallina87 @beachesandboats @ishipit1420 @machsachds @wishfulhope (crossed over names are people I wasn't able to tag, sorry)

[speedane]

Sugar Crash

Prompt: "wtf Q" (this prompt was taken randomly)

Tags: slight mentions of drugs and addiction

Summary: Sugar, in moderation, can improve one's mood. Of course, anything in excess is bad.

I don't usually write, but content drought has pushed me to pick it up again.

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Life has its ups and down. When faced with comfort, there is no reason to worry about tomorrow. Live, laugh, love, they say. Everything becomes some sort of a game. Time tends to pass by so quickly when having fun… that sometimes it becomes too noticeable when things start crashing down.

“Everyone wants to be a critic these days! Nothing is enough for these people!”

When faced with hardships, people had to cope. There are different ways to deal with stress. Some sleep it off, others resort to vices, while some…. consume copious amounts of sugar. 

“When I’m sad, I eat candies to make myself better! Or cake… mmm cake.”

Sugar can improve someone’s mood occasionally. There is nothing wrong with eating sweets once in a while. Of course, excess leads to ruin. 

“What do you mean you splurged your money on sweets??”

“I’ve had a tough week, let me have this Brynn!”

“Q!!”

Relying on sugar to manage your emotions could cause adverse effects to the body. Like a drug, you get stuck in a loop that your brain and body wouldn’t want. 

“Mr. Q, I do not advise too much sugary sweets...”

“It’s my cheat day today, old man! Leave me alone!”

“I’ll prepare you some tea then.”

Sugar as a stress-suppressant makes you overly-dependent on it. You pick it up once, and it was the most exceptional feeling ever. You pick it up a second time, and it wouldn’t be the same as the first one despite still feeling good. In hopes of feeling that same level of happiness again, you’ll keep consuming more sugar to satiate yourself in the short-term. 

“Hey, you didn’t tell us you’ll be having cake!”

“Look David, there’s gum drops, chocolates, soda, and gummy worms too!”

“Hey hey! Don’t touch those without asking me!”

“Whoa hey, no need to be snappy…”

At a certain level, there will be a time where sugar can no longer make you happy. You would feel terrible, like you’ve hit rock bottom. But your body has become too reliant on sweets that it crashes along with your mood. Lack of control could lead to disastrous results. 

“Goodness, Q, what is all this..?”

“I don’t feel so good…”

“Did you try consuming all of this into your tiny little body?”

Sugar must be consumed in moderation. Like any other coping mechanism, it’s not meant to make problems magically disappear.

 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just want to make people happy… but whatever I do, it’s not enough!”

“Calm down, don’t start throwing stuff now!”

Hardships are meant to be shared, and one man can never handle a burden alone. There is no shame in admitting you need help. Humans are not solitary species, after all. 

“Ashley, I’m sorry..”

“I can sense that you are having a tough day.”

“My body really feels terrible right now… I can’t move my legs.. urk..”

“No more eating sweets for you for a week or two… Don’t worry, I’ll carry you to the infirmary.”

You may not feel good today, nor even tomorrow. But nothing stays down forever. 

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Sorry for the chaotic writing, but I need to drag you all into total chaos in the most effective way possible. :D

[radiocrypt-id]

The Princesses are already dead. Daughters of the Crown, passive characters in their own stories, knowing just enough to know the world is much smaller than they thought but not enough to comprehend what that means.

Of course, when faced with the existential understanding that you are nothing but words on paper, a story told to children to make them behave or teach them a value of some kind, one would fall apart. Of course learning that you have no agency in your life would be suffocating. Of course it would crush your heart to find that the people that are specifically there to help you are not in fact there to help you specifically, they are there to fulfill a requirement so your specific story may play the way it's meant to, because they don't care about you, they care about doing their job. Of course you would rally against that, history is full of people being told to fall in line and obey and them refusing, of course the Princesses would refuse. They're people. People hate being controlled.

Snow White wanted to have hope, but hope failed her. She wanted her friends to survive and be happy, she wanted life to be good and kind, she wanted what anyone wants in life, but she was denied it. And when she went asking why, why was she denied the life she was meant to have? Why was her life miserable? Why did her friends have to die? What went wrong? Had she done something wrong? Of course she didn't do something wrong, she was written to suffer. They all were. So they all did what anyone would do when faced with adversity and pain, they started doing something about.

The path they chose to walk is so close to their purpose and they don't see it. To defy, to suffer, to rise despite it. They all told the controlling people in their lives no, and with help, they achieved a life for themselves. The only difference is now that they don't fully understand what's happening. They have pieces, just enough to know the picture is bigger and to be afraid of it, but not enough to see and understand it. Of course they'd come to the conclusion that there's something wrong with them at the core, they were literally written to be different and wrong to someone, of course they'd see themselves as a fault. Of course they would see their existence as the problem. Of course they'd view death as the way out.

When there's no one around to give you hope and guidance, when no one has answers and the answers you do find are bleak and terrible, when your knowledge is so limited and you have to make assumptions to fill in the gaps, how could someone not look at a broken world and see it as unfixable? When hope has failed you time and again and the ones that are supposed to know better refuse to help you and the world you live in does nothing but hurt you, how are you supposed to look at it and want to save it?

I don't blame the Princesses for looking at the Neverafter and not knowing what else to do. I don't blame them for focusing on a tangible enemy like the fairies. They didn't know the Authors (arthurs) existed until the party told them, who else are they to suspect of being puppeteers? How painful must it be to be told that the Gods not only exist, but they're cruel on purpose? Not that they just don't care, but that they made you specifically to suffer for their entertainment. What sort of rage and emptiness would you feel? How much pain can a person take before they just want to give up?

They were written to defy. Why wouldn't they take out what they can while they go down? Why wouldn't they want to deny their creators of the entertainment they so desperately wish for? Why not destroy it all?

It's all ink on paper anyway.