#I didn’t get them and was annoyed by how they were trying to paint me

[kiwisandpearls]

…some guy tried to argue in my post about how I don’t get antis who fix art saying that it was their right to do so because they’re ‘exploring the moral high ground of art’ and that I’m somehow contradicting me being profic and I’m also being ‘anti-freedom’ which…

?????

[vote-loki]

Didn’t get any sleep last night because I had a migraine and I was still awake when my wife got up for work, which is fine. Except they lost their wallet and I was trying to help look and offering suggestions to where it may be even though my head hurts so horribly bad and they just kept getting more frustrated, because they couldn’t find it, not with me, and being mean and now I’m upset

Like bro I haven’t slept all night after an eight hour shift and I’m in severe pain can you please be nice to me for five seconds while I’m trying to help you

[screampied]

the thought of being fucked full-nelson style by sukuna while sitting on his throne won’t leave my mind

☆ ໋𓈒 tags. fem! reader, tf! sukuna, full nelson, size diff + size kinks, dirty talk, unprotected, brēeding, mentions of tummy bulge, ( little one, princess, brat . . ) mdni.

“hn. how pathetic,” the notorious demon snickers, baring a single fang as he watches the tip of his swollen angered cock disappear between your runny folds. your thighs shook instantaneously, and he’s lazily slouched back on his throne. a bawled up fist rests near his chin as he watches you with crimson eyes filled of nothing but pure amusement and a mocking head tilt. “don’t make me fall asleep, now. you said you could take me ‘n you’re not even halfway in, princess.”

you bite the inside of your cheek at his playful taunts — so annoying, he just wouldn’t shut up. “ ‘m trying, ‘kuna,” you moan, the stretch of his throbbing cockhead making the center of your mouth salivate. the sleeves of his kimono were slightly ruffled from you tugging on it. he’s got the smuggest grin as your legs part themselves just a bit further. seconds go by before you sigh, slumping into his chest. “help me, ‘kuna. please.”

“so easy to give up,” he mumbles in a gruff tone, bringing one of his big hands to pat the back of your head. you lean into his touch, and as you’re so close to him—you’re engulfed by his natural loud musk. “finee,” he sharply adds, and you gasp once he turns your body around, positioning you in such a way. you’re still placed on his lap but he grabs both of your legs, pulling them upward. “i’ll help you, little one. now now, lie back ‘n allow your king to give you a nice ‘lil stretch.”

your mouth slightly drops, dramatically going agape once he restrains you in a safe manner . .

sukuna’s got you taking his heavy cock again, but this time, you feel the stretch reach everywhere.

he’s got two pairs of arms locking behind your head with the other two clinging onto your thighs. a few sharp nails dig into the fat of your skin, leaving a plethora of marks he’d want to kiss over later. “fuck,” he grunts, hearing the squelching whimpers of your sweet cunt. everything’s slow, it’s as if time stood still as you’re trying to take him. you swallow a lump near the back of your throat that seemed to be growing every second.

the demon sat underneath you was big—he liked pounding you ruthlessly in full nelson because more than anything, he loved seeing you stretched.

the dumb sounds you make, it rings through his ears. speaking of, he gets up close to the lobe of your ear, flicking his forked tongue against it. “s- sukuna,” you whine, and with a ‘pop’, you felt your ass grind right into his lap. already, he’s molding a tiny tummy bulge near the center of your stomach. he’s so deep, once he starts, it’s practically over for your limps. “ngh, ‘s big, ‘kuna.”

“keh, obviously. the perfect size for you, princess.” he groans, tightening his grip just a tad bit against your legs. a hand of his feels the bulging spot near the center of your tummy before he hums. “ ‘kuna’s riiiight fuckin’ here, brat.”

he’s got you in a secure lock. his arms felt warm, and through your blurred peripherals, you glance at his ancient cursed markings that paint all across his bulky, burly arms.

so big, you’re already drooling as you’re bouncing on his cock. the crushing compressing weight of both bodies—mainly yours, causes his throne to be more rickety. it’s whining and groaning out creaks each time your speed against his lap increases, and he’s practically treating you like a doll.

a porcelain doll he didn’t want to ever break.

at least, not yet. .

“fuckin’ nasty girl,” he huffs, one of his hands going toward your face. he smears a palm over your mouth, your pouring drool that streams from the corners of your lips landing on his hand. he’s got a wolfish smile, hearing your babbled whimpers get louder as he’s stretching you silly. “i spoil you too much, spoil this sloppy pussy too much too, hmph.”

“mmph. suku— sukunaaa,” your sweet stammers of moans grew more bouncy as you bucked your swiveling hips further onto him. it didn’t take long before your raw vocal chords start to die out, growing strained and weak. you dramatically elongate each syllable of his name that streams from your lips as his cock plummets into you full. the sweltering hot crown of his shaft kisses all around your gummy walls, reaching so deep that you’re practically yanking roughly on the edges of his silky kimono sleeve. “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum, ‘kuna.”

a throaty chortle from sukuna makes your cunt twitch as he holds you upright — so cute, he’s so much bigger than you, merely dislocating your limbs with a few sets of his arms. he barely had to do anything and yet you were easily overpowered by his body. your mouth hangs open as he’s shoving such thick inches in and out of your slobbering pussy, coating his entire base with your cascading slick. “are you asking or are you just sayin’ y’r gonna cum, little one?”

the insides of your thighs were so sticky, already sticking together and you’re a babbling mess as his dick continues to make you stupid. “lemme cum please, ‘kuna. please, pretty please. stuffin’ me so full, fuuuck.”

“there’s those sweet manners,” he purrs in a husky tone—the back of his lips meets near your ear, giving it a soft peck as you continue to move. you feel a swarm of fluttering butterflies circle inside the pits of your tummy, but you knew that could also be the bulge of his cock constantly rutting deep into your clingy insides. “ah,” he snarls, his tip thrashing vigorously against a certain spongey spot. right there, you let off a sweet squeal as his sloppy thrusts start to punctuate again and again until your candied coated moans reverberate throughout the walls of his regal royal chambers. “fuckin’ shit,” he hisses, and as your hips continue to slam onto him, he’s realizing he’s coming close too.

your eyes were droopy as he’s still got you in such a lewd position — he’s so strong, proudly holding you up to where you’re just a doll bouncing on his cock. his throne remains wailing out moans of its own from the heavy masses of weight jerking on top of the furniture. he’s balls deep into your core, feeling how sweetly your cunt’s being massaged.

“c’mon, messy girl. give it t’ me then. make a sloppy mess on your king, princess,” and his sable-darkened nails gently scrape against your skin. it’s almost soothing, he’s got you in a tight safe chokehold hold and you’re basically chasing your own breath.

you whimper as his warm breaths tickle such a carnal itch in your brain. sukuna allows for you to bounce on him quicker and harder until eventually, your release came. your sweet little cry of finishing rapture was adorable—he hears how even after you’ve creamed all down his cock from the salacious skin slapping, your irregular breaths never falter. “ugh,” he grumbles, feeling his own release eventually match up as if it was right on cue. he bellows out a rough animalistic growl before he’s cummimg, shooting blanks. satiny ropes shoot into you, its balmy hot temperature making you gasp. it’s thick and slimy, pumping you full to the brim so good that it even leaks out.

he loosens his taut grip on your numb legs that were positioned in the air before he sighs—it’s still coming out, his angered tip was tucked inside your pussy as you’re just defeated, collapsed back on his chest.

“good girl,” he pants, hearing the erotic sloshes of his own cum continuing to spurt and ooze deep inside you. now, you’re an entire puddled mess. he creeps a broad open hand between your thighs, dragging a thumb down your slobbering slick to gather up a drop of his filthy dribbling cum. “my, my, look at thaaat,” he coos lowly, and you moan once he resumes, dragging a plump thumb down your sloppy cunt. a bit of his own mess soaks onto his finger before he brings it up to his mouth, lapping at your fresh juices, getting a taste himself. “mhm, she’s as sweetest as she’s ever been,” and you let off a gasp once another one of his palms rudely spanks your wet cunt.

“messy baby.”

[rinsoap]

➣ includes : brother's best friend! suna rintaro. oh and also small age gap between him and the reader, only two ish years though. LOWKEY SUGGESTIVE? one mention of the reader not wearing a bra if that is something u deem suggestive.

note : i'm so in love with romantic and sexual tension between u n suna it's so fun to write! also lmk if u want a pt2 or something not sure what i'd do for a pt2 but y'all can send in some ideas lol

suna rintaro who is your brother’s best friend… he likes seeing you around the house, ready for bed looking so cute in your comfy shorts and a little top n no bra. he likes that he gets to see what you look like everyday instead of only seeing you dolled up. he likes when you’re glammed, of course, you always look stunning. he just likes stealing glances of you do everyday tasks.

like tonight, in the kitchen far too late in the night, he’ll lean against the doorframe as he watches you make a snack. he notices the curves of your shoulders, and how the small of your back peeks out from your top riding up a little. you’re still humming the song you’ve had stuck in your head all day. you turn around and surprised to see him, you gasp, causing him to widen his lazy half smile. you roll your eyes, party because he scared you, but also because he looks way too good. hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants loose around his hips, hair messy, and a white tank top on that fits him perfectly. he looks like a slut.

“what could you possibly want,” you sigh, and he shrugs in response. “just wanna see what you’re up to”

“where’s my brother? shouldn’t you be hanging with him?” you question, pointing a strawberry pop tart at him accusingly.

“he’s asleep” he closes the distance between you to take the pop tart out of your hand, taking a rather generous bite.

“rin stop, oh my god you just ate like half of it,” you exclaim, snatching it back, “you’ve already cleaned out half the fridge, when will your greedy ass be satisfied?”

“rin?” he cocks his head, his sleepy smile settling into a smug one, “you haven’t called me that since, like, elementary school” the eye contact he so casually maintains is difficult for you to keep, and your face gets furiously hot, looking away. “yeah well, i kind of thought you were embarrassed by it, so i got embarrassed and i stopped” you try to exit the conversation and walk past him to the doorway he was just standing in, trying to signal that you were going to leave to your bedroom. he follows you, much to your dismay. he leans against the doorway, his back to it, and you mimick his action. you're both looking directly at each other, and it feels weirdly intimate. seeing each other face on meant he could see every expression on your face.

“why would you think that? i wasn’t embarrassed.” he says, his eyes scan you from your painted toenails to the top of your head, but inevitably looking into your eyes. after a beat of hesitation, he continues talking. “...you know, i had a crush on you then. i was really sad when you stopped calling me it.”

the heat in your face returns as he laughs. how can he sit there and laugh after dropping this insane piece of information??

“you’re kidding. i totally liked you back, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you look at him incredulously, mouth agape and growing annoyed as you realize he was not as shocked finding out your feelings as you were in learning his.

“yeah, i figured. but your brother, you know? and just in case i wasn’t right, i didn’t want you to reject me and then show up at your house the next day to watch movies with your brother” he had a point. you remember those movie nights. you always wanted to watch with them, but your brother would always say no and kick you out of the room. suna always let you watch anyways, offering a seat on the couch beside him despite his best friend’s wishes.

the movie nights were not the only thing your mind was pondering on. if he knew about your crush then, did he know now? your feelings were much too complicated for you to call it a crush, and you'd like to think you've learned how to be at least a little subtle, so maybe he didn't know.

"that’s crazy. we just barely missed each other i guess” you finally say with a chuckle that turns into a thoughtful hum, glancing anywhere but his eyes.

"what? so, you don't have a crush on me anymore?" oh, so he did know. he easily closes the gap between you two, and for once, it doesn't seem like he's teasing you. "rin..." you say, mouth slightly open like you're going to add something else, but you don't. "i don't think we missed anything... am i wrong?" he leans towards, and you swear he's going to kiss you but he stops before your lips touch, "you can tell me if i'm wrong."

you grab his shirt and pull him in to press your lips against his, bringing him into a surprising, but long kiss. his hands thread through your hair, lingering in the moment. when you break away, they slide from your hair to the sides of your neck, and he has the dumbest smile on his face. "definitely not wrong."

[byexbyez]

love me more | leon kennedy x f!reader

pairing: re4r!leon kennedy x f!reader

summary:

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

word count: 19k

warnings: 18+ towards the end, angst, yearning, marriage of convenience but there isn't a tangible convenience, strangers to spouses dynamic, grief/mourning, depictions of depression and low self-esteem, also trauma and anxiety, family issues, kinda touch-starved leon if you squint, domestic fluff if you try hard enough, non-linear and vague timeline, mentions of canon typical violence, alcohol and cigarette consumption, p in v smut, brief alternation of POVs, ada wong mention, suicidal thoughts, minor original character, minor character death, spoilers to the hunchback of notre dame, no use of y/n

notes: meant to post this on tumblr after i was done with it but that never happened so here, have it. took me 16 months to post it here lmao. english is not my first language. you have been warned. also beware of a whole lot of mitski and hozier references. enjoy!

-> read on ao3

>> read PART II.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved

Me and my husband We're doing better

—Me and My Husband, Mitski

It’s quiet. It has always been that way from the start. Your husband is late, which is not unusual. You sit in the somber light coming from your living room TV. You don’t like the overhead lights, which explains the abundance of lamps around the living room and bedroom in your home. Your husband found it strange that you never turned on the actual lights but it didn’t take him long to realize that you were right. Any kind of overhead light was annoying to him now. He blamed you for his headaches at work.

No matter how many times you told him that he could turn on the overhead lights he insisted that he did not like them anymore. “I like it like this,” he had said. “You’re right, it’s cozier this way.” His head was on your knee, his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful. You wanted to brush his hair away from his face and maybe scratch a bit as if he was a cat. But you didn’t, you had no idea what he would react like to such an intimate gesture. You turned your gaze away from his peaceful sleeping face to the TV you had been watching on low volume before he stepped through your home’s front door.

It was a fucking joke, really. Thinking twice, three times about touching the man that you call your husband.

You hear his keys jumble from the door. He didn’t tell you what time he would be home, so you didn’t prepare anything for dinner. It’s late anyways. You consider closing your eyes and resting your head on the back of the couch but it hasn’t been long since he told you he could tell when you were not sleeping. You thought about the number of times you pretended and he could tell. Embarrassing. Now that your secret was out, you had to greet him awkwardly.

He calls your name. “Are you asleep?” His voice very faint.

“No,” you answer while untucking your legs from under your butt. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He places the keys on the keyholder. “No lights?”

You reach to your side and turn on one lamp. “I didn’t realize the sun had set.”

“It’s past eleven.” Now that the lamp was on you could see his worried eyes. His five o’clock shadow prominent. “Did you eat anything?” he asks. You can’t tell if he hopes you did or not.

The moment you see the plastic bag in his hand, you shake your head no. Honestly, you were hungry because it had been hours since you ate a bowl of cereal as dinner.

He steps over your legs instead of pushing the coffee table away to make room for himself and plops next to you on the couch. “Brought Chinese,” he says and places the food bag on your lap instead of the coffee table. “You like their fried dumplings.”

You aren’t surprised that he remembers it. He was nice like that, maybe he thinks this is the least he can do. Soon after the wedding, he realized you did not enjoy cooking. It has never been a problem, he knew his way around the kitchen and knew of really good takeout places.  

“Thank you,” you say softly while leaning on the table to place the noodles and the dumplings. “Leon, did you drink?” you ask when you catch a whiff of him.

“Yeah, I’m a little tipsy.”

That explains his lax attitude. He has his arm around you across the back of the couch, he’s sitting close to you. It’s because he wants to eat, you say to yourself. And he’s a little tipsy.

“Did you have fun?” you ask when you separate your chopsticks.

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he says, watching you separate his chopsticks for him. “I had a drink by myself.”

“Only one?” you chuckle.

“One or two,” He cocks his head to your direction and grabs the chopsticks from your fingers. His fingertips are warm.

Unlike you, his body always runs hot. You remember the comment he made when he held your hand and cupped one cheek, kissing you after you two had said “I do”. His breath was hot on the lower part of your face. You somehow felt him everywhere and nowhere at once. “It’s really hot, why are your hands cold?” he had whispered. It was unusually hot on the day you eloped. Leon had to dab his sweat away so often.

“I’m just nervous,” you had whispered back. The hand that he was not holding was trembling, surely, he could tell.

“No need to be.” That was what he said right before your first kiss. It was more of a short peck because he was a gentleman who didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

It was easier for him to say, he didn’t have anything to be nervous about. He looked really beautiful that day and it didn’t help your nerves one bit. You felt like you were committing a crime while signing your documents that sealed the fact that you were now married to Leon Kennedy. You wonder if he felt the same, knowing this marriage was not a real one.

You didn’t lie to anyone really, so why did it feel like you did? You never told anyone you were in love. You never told anyone this was legit. You just told your sister you were married and that Leon was a good man. She had shrieked over the phone, demanded that you quit joking. The moment she was convinced that you were not, she expected pictures of him. The only picture you had of him was from the day you eloped. He had taken your cold hand and placed it on his arm. His other hand on his stomach so he didn’t look awkward. You had raised your small bouquet of baby’s breath to your torso as well. You did not look as nervous as you thought when the photo came in the mail but Leon looked more handsome than you remembered. You emailed it to your sister.

It didn’t take long for her to respond. How the hell did you bag that man??? Do you have blackmail material against him?

We met at work, you replied shortly.

I thought you worked with dudes that are old as fuck.

We don’t work together. Met through a coworker.

Maybe I should change careers. I mean how hard can it be to train as a government agent???

You looked at the multiple question marks she sent after that. I’m telling your husband.

I showed him the picture and he agrees that he’s hot lol. He also would like to have you guys over.

So you both can ask him what he sees in me?

Hey, I’m only joking. We would really like you guys to come over. I want to meet my brother-in-law.

I’ll tell him but he’s very busy.

Sooo what does he do?

Like I said, he’s an agent. Mostly confidential work.

So you can’t tell me?

I really can’t.

You know what? It’s annoying that you can’t tell me what he does but I can understand. What I can’t understand is you getting married. Out of the blue. Without telling me.

That email left a bitter taste in your mouth. She could tell that it was not real. She knew that you were not easy to love. She knew it was impossible for you to get married. That’s why you stalled her invitation for nearly two years. You hadn’t even asked Leon because you did not know how he would react. He knew you had a sister across the country and that she was older than you but never asked about her for a while. You weren’t offended at his uninterest in your life. He didn’t have any reason to be interested in you.

He did say he was an orphan, that one time.

It all made sense after that, he didn’t like to talk about families. Maybe because he wasn’t used to belong. To belong to a family. Belong to someone. Think about them because he belongs to them and they belong to him.

All things considered, you thought Leon turned out more than okay. Closed off but very kind, gentle, understanding.

He leans forward and helps you split one dumpling into two with his chopsticks. His shoulder bumps yours and stays there because he refuses to let go of the back of the couch behind you. When you pull your sleeve over your fingers, he quickly eats one whole dumpling, leaving you with the smaller one that he helped you split and covers your hand with his.

“You cold?” He looks silly when he stuffs his face full of food.

“No.”

“Your hands are cold.” He doesn’t’ say like always but it’s there in his voice.

He doesn’t mind touching you when he’s in a good mood, mostly when he’s a little intoxicated like this. Usually, he’s not a touchy person. You’re glad he’s not, it reminds you that you definitely like him more than he likes you. He needs the little nudge of alcohol to let go of his inhibitions. He didn’t touch you until you gave him the green light on your birthday. He didn’t know what to get you as a gift so he got you yellow roses and the blandest birthday card known to man.

Happy Birthday, from Leon.

“It isn’t anything special, I know.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

But it was special, it was from him; with his emotionally constipated, probably unintended curt message. You knew deep down he had a big heart. He cared enough to stop on his way to get you these. You didn’t think much, because there were times when you didn’t need to think about this, you just reached and hugged him around his waist. “Thank you,” you whispered. “They smell really nice. We need to get a vase for them.”

He finally put his arms around you and you felt the stiffness of his shoulders on top of yours. It was six months into your married life.

Yellow roses. He saw you as a friend. You were okay with it, as long as it meant he was not pushing you away. You were not terrible by any means. Boring and awkward, definitely. But you made it clear to him that he could talk to you about what he wanted when he wanted. He was adamant that it went both ways. However, you genuinely don’t think anything going in your life is worth talking about. Hence, he’s the one who ends up talking most of the time.

He rubs your fingers to bring them warmth. The air of the living room feels awfully similar to that one time he surprised you and laid his head on your lap. That one time you wanted to play with his hair but didn’t. It was just like this. Quiet despite the TV’s low volume, comfortable as the light coming from the lamps was soft on the eyes, smelling of alcohol as he was a little drunk. Unsure as your hands were cold and was this what being friends meant?

Sometimes he craved the quiet. He worked and worked and worked. Voices everywhere. Danger constant. His only quiet was home, you suppose.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

“I ate cereal,” you answer him.

“Has no nutritional value whatsoever,” he mutters.

“Yeah, it’s just me being lazy.”

“I don’t think we have anything in the fridge, I don’t blame you.”

You both finish your food in silence, you pretend to watch the screen in front of you the whole time. You hug your knees to your chest when you’re done and he looks like he can fall asleep any minute.

“How was your day?” you ask to keep him awake. You don’t want him to sleep here and have his back and neck all sore tomorrow.

He rests his chin on his shoulder and gives you a funny look through his long lashes. “Same as always.”

You admit to yourself that you love him like this. He seems free, happy even.

You decide to be bold and tap your shoulder for him to lay his head on.  

He doesn’t seem to be thinking twice as he takes your offer and nuzzles his head on your shoulder. He’s taller and bigger than you, you suppose the position he’s in right now is not comfortable for him. He reaches back around the couch and the other hand crosses his abdomen, gripping your ankle that he is closest to. His thumb draws circles there and your brain short circuits. “How was yours?”

“My day? Nothing exciting. All paperwork.”

He hums as he squeezes your ankle, his hair tickling your nose and lips.

“You really need a shower, Leon.” You make up the courage to smooth down his blonde hair that is sticking up in every direction.

He hums again. “Are you telling me I stink?”

“Yes, mister.”

“I’m tired,” he groans but doesn’t seem tired enough as he pushes his head and messes up your balance on the couch. You have to hold on to the arm rest as he keeps nudging you with his head.

“You’ll feel gross in the morning if you don’t have a shower.���

“You have a point,” he says but does nothing to get up. Maybe it was a bad idea to offer him your shoulder and unknowingly, your ankle. He’s never acted like a kid like this before.

You get up and turn off the TV before you offer him both of your hands. “You’re not tipsy, you’re drunk. Now get up and wash yourself please.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, you are. You headbutted me.”

He takes your hands and finally gets up. “I think I ran out of shampoo.”

“You can use mine. Brush your teeth while I go get it.” You pat his back.

There’s two bedrooms in the house, one is for guests but you’ve never had guests over since you’ve both moved into this apartment. Leon uses the “guest” room downstairs. He insisted that you take the bigger room. He’s more like a roommate than a spouse.

He’s shirtless in front of the sink, brushing his teeth like you told him to when you knock on his bathroom door and hand him your shampoo. He reads the fragrance and opens its cap to smell it.

“Well, you smell nice so I can’t complain,” he says, toothbrush still in his mouth, dribbling toothpaste everywhere.

You love him in moments like these. This is the moment the wife reaches and kisses the husband. Well, maybe after he’s done dribbling everywhere but you know how this moment should go about. He won’t be like this in the morning. You know very well that he is going to be sober and back to normal Leon. He won’t say anything about his drunk self because he knows you won’t as well.

“Don’t fall in the shower!” you shout as you go upstairs to your room.

“I’m not that drunk!”

The next morning, he sees you making coffee in the kitchen. It hasn’t been long since your schedule got aligned with his. He wonders how the hell you managed to adjust your sleeping hours to the point now you could wake up before him. He used to wake up before you because you often had late shifts.

“Morning,” he says as he smells the delicious coffee that you’re pouring into two mugs. He yawns, scratching an itch on his arm. He did not use to have a coffee machine back when he was living alone. You had brought it with you to this house and saved him from Starbucks’ morning rush hour.

You slide one of the mugs in front of him and give him a warm smile. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

He blows on the coffee before he takes a sip. “Much better now.” He clears his throat, his morning voice gruff. “I was thinking… We should commute together.”

“To work?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Where else?” he snorts. “What’s surprising? Why pay more for gas when we start work at the same time?”

“Wouldn’t that be…”

“It wouldn’t interfere with anything if you think about it. It’s stupid to take both cars to the same place.”

“I might work overtime,” you say and hug yourself.

He nods into his mug and seems like he wants to say more. “Then you can take your car. You’ve just started normal hours. Why are you eager to tire yourself out so quickly?”

So that we don’t have to be awkward around each other.

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

It is what you repeat to yourself over and over again. It was convenient to have slept with him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. You were lonely. You reckon he had to be, too. Because why else would he want to have sex with you? He did not love you or anything. You could only think of one thing when his face was buried in your neck. You still had his yellow roses. You had preserved them between your book pages.

As he was panting above you, hands grasping your hips with vigor, your thighs caging him in and burning, you felt like a rose stuck between thousands of words never read aloud. Yellow all over, sticking out like a sore thumb between words printed in the smallest font size possible, suffocating. Once belonged with other flowers but now settled down in a place where people thought you’d look pretty.

You hate the color yellow as much as you hate the word convenient. If not, more.

He sees you wince. He cannot guess the reason behind it is his choice of words. “What do you say?”

He is offering, you think. He still likes you enough to ask.

“Okay.”

“Good, we need to get groceries on the way back.”   

People don’t whisper much now that it’s been nearly two years since you two announced to your close work circle that you were married. There were a lot of surprised faces at first, thinking maybe Leon was joking or something. People didn’t know you very well. You were only close with Cathy.

“Perhaps we should wear rings,” said Leon once over dinner. “People don’t believe we’re married.”

“Is that a problem? What others think, I mean?”

He stared at your face while chewing, you couldn’t make out what he was thinking thanks to the dim light emanating from one of the lamps. “They think it’s a joke. Is it so bad that I want to be taken seriously for once? You wanted a wedding dress, I want a ring.”

“When do you want to get them?”

That led to you choosing matching rings with Leon. Simple gold bands. You make sure to wear them to work every day because if you don’t, you worry people will start to whisper again.

First it was, Leon’s not the type to get married, he’s taking the piss out of us, is it April fools today?

Then it turned into: Oh God, he’s serious, he says he got married last weekend.

Eloped? To whom?

He said her name but I don’t remember it, said she’s in archives now.

He’s married to an archivist? How on earth did they meet?

Probably in Donovan’s funeral, saw Hunnigan introducing them.

That wasn’t long ago!

I know, right?

You know some of them thought you had a one-night stand and got pregnant from him. The rumors subsided when that didn’t turn out to be true.

However, people were curious about why Ingrid Hunnigan would introduce an archivist to an agent. It didn’t take long for your name to become known because you had recently switched departments. You had been a systems analyst like Hunnigan, working with late Cathy Donovan. You’d switched to archives after her funeral.

People greeted you when they saw you. Leon’s wife, right?

Yes, but not really.

The first time Leon ever saw you was during agent Donovan’s funeral. He’d gotten back from Spain just a week ago. He did not know agent Donovan well but her name echoed in every corner. She was good at her job. Most of the time, nobody had an idea what she was up to.

“Leon, I want you to meet Cathy’s partner,” said Hunnigan, holding the shoulder of the woman standing next to her.

You stuck your hand out for him to shake and told him your name. It sounded disconsolate coming from your mouth, your own name. Your eyes were dazed, you kept your mouth in a thin line. You didn’t even look at him properly as if this was the hundredth occurrence today, Hunnigan introducing you to someone.

“I’ve heard a lot of great things about agent Donovan.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Right, she was great,” you said, your eyes straying elsewhere. It looked like Hunnigan’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing keeping you from crumbling down. You looked so small with your shoulders hunched forward. He cringed when he saw you rip out the flesh of the side of your thumb.

Hunnigan went on about Cathy Donovan’s accomplishments to him. You continued to pick at your thumb, him watching your side profile as you kept averting your gaze from people around you. You seemed to be dissociating hard.

“These two were inseparable. I tried asking Cathy to work with me on a small mission once and she praised her so much in turn, I had to suck it up and meet this woman myself as soon as possible,” said Hunnigan heatedly. “I’m such a big fan of Cathy’s, you see, I couldn’t be upset. I love seeing her work with the best.”

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you managed to say, a beat too late. “I need to use the restroom, be right back.”

Leon knew too well that losing someone was difficult, yet he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. He furrowed his brows the moment his hand made contact with your upper arm. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, he didn’t want to seem like he took pity on you.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

You made the effort to look him in the eye when it was obvious as day that you were having a hard time keeping your head up.

Your voice barely came out, “Thank you.”

Of course, you did not recognize him the second time he saw you. It was his late celebratory dinner for his mission in Spain. His coworkers had planned a small one, saying he deserved it. Once he was done with his food, he excused himself saying he wanted to get fresh air.

Not too far from the restaurant, you were sitting on a bench alone.

“Those things will kill you, y’know,” he said, eyes pointing to the cigarette you were smoking.

His unexpected voice caused you to jump in your seat. You quickly put the cigarette out by stomping it with your shoe. “I don’t usually… smoke.”

He dragged his feet while walking to sit down on the opposite end of the bench. “You didn’t have to put it out.” Though he thought you were very considerate by doing so.

“Congratulations, for the mission.”

“Thank you— name’s Leon, by the way.”

You stuck your chin out to the direction of the restaurant, “Or so I heard in there.”

“We actually met before. At the funeral.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t remember half the people I met there.”  

“No need to be sorry. You seemed out of it.”

“Yeah, we worked together for a long time, Cathy and I.”

“Look, I know it’s hard and anything I say probably won’t make any difference—”

“You don’t need to—” Your voice quite literally got stuck on your throat, you composed yourself by bringing the side of your fist to your mouth and coughed into it. “I’m trying to get better. I’m here today, which is a miracle in of itself. I know people think it’s probably good to talk about her but I’m just not in the mood, okay? Thank you for your understanding but I don’t need to be reminded, it happened not so long ago.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, I know you mean well.” You started to sway your feet on the gravel. It was completely understandable for you to lash out but you seemed uneasy as soon as it was out of you. “Sorry, this is your happy day. I shouldn’t—”

“You realize how many times we said sorry to each other in this past minute?” he laughed. “Also, I lost a partner in Spain. I’m not that happy today.”

Your voice turning faint, seemingly regretting your flash of anger a moment ago, “You probably feel like you shouldn’t be happy.”

He nodded. “He helped me a lot but didn’t make it.” He saw your mouth open and stopped you there. “Don’t say you’re sorry. It loses its meaning when you say it too much.”

“Even if I mean it with my whole heart every time?”

“That means you’re sorry for a lot of things. It’s not healthy to carry that much weight on your shoulders.”

“Right, I’ll be like Quasimodo.” You hunched your shoulders even more forward. “Like the hunchback.”

“From the Disney movie?”

You giggled at his childishness. “Yeah, I heard there’s also a book about it.”

He looked at your squinted eyes and thought you deserved to be happy more.

As you two carried on your now meaningless conversation, he did not know that you were certain on resigning from your job and never turning back to it. You’d started to work on the archives that week, partly because your boss had foreseen you contemplating quitting all together and did not want to lose a highly valuable member such as yourself and partly because you had requested it.

At that point, you were absolutely aware of the fact that they feared you’d never turn back to your former position. And because Cathy didn’t have any plans of ever becoming alive, you also didn’t have any plans on returning. But you knew the reason behind them doing anything you asked was them giving you time to grieve. After that, the pressure would build even more and hopefully make you take your old place.

“It was Hunnigan’s idea,” you said to Leon after he asked you very kindly why you were here tonight. “Basically dragged me here. She thinks I should be around people more.”

“She’s right. I’m glad you came.”

Leon was cute, alright. That didn’t do him justice, actually. It was evident under the street light where the bench was that he worked out regularly. Biceps giving a hard time to his sleeves every time he moved, veins protruding on his forearms, his thighs looking like they’d help him carry ten people on his large back. And oh, his broader-than-the-horizon shoulders. An absolute unit of a man with cheekbones and jawline honed like a Greek statue. With his dark blonde hair falling on his face in that charming way and his oh so kind blue eyes, you knew he was out of your league.

His gentle aura making him seem like a Prince Charming or a white knight or whatever the fuck those Disney movies had.

You planned on never seeing anyone from work again, you had nothing to lose. And Cathy so would say to shoot your shot.

“I’m thinkin’ of getting a few drinks in me, want to tag along?”

“What do you have in mind?” He seemed interested, a good sign.

“You got any suggestions? And don’t say beer because I plan on getting wasted beyond recognition in like an hour.”

“Yeah, be careful. And don’t drink and drive.” The way he took a U-turn on his interest irritated you. You really thought he wouldn’t say no, you were getting along well, flirting even. “Did you come here with your car?”

“Yeah.” You tried to not sound upset. “I’m not a teenager. I’ll take a cab. Drinks will be on me.”

“Ah, thanks but I’ll have to refuse. They’ll probably wonder where I went. It’s my dinner, after all.” The polite smile he gave you was so infuriating.

You got up from the bench. He had the audacity to look you up and down after that. “Then please tell Hunnigan I’m sorry I left early, will you?”

“I will.” He fidgeted and crossed his arms. Oh God, you’d made him uncomfortable. It was just minutes ago he was sort of flirting with you. “Don’t drink too much.”

God, why did he have to be so annoying?

The next time you two met was at the closest pharmacist to work, few weeks after his dinner and your failed attempt to get him in your bed.  

“One box of aspirin, please.” Your head snapped up at that voice. Unmistakably, Leon. With his broad back facing you, he hadn’t seen you yet.

“What can I get you, miss?”

Leon stepped over to the side when they called to you, still not looking at you.

“Eyedrops, please.”

“Miss, are you alright?”

To that, he did a double-take. You’d looked disheveled to the point of worry. Eyes and nose a few shades redder than the rest of your face, eyebags puffy and makeup smudged. With your now extremely frizzy baby hairs doing anything but their job of framing your face, it was apparent that you’d been crying.

“Yes, it’s just an allergy.”

“Can I get you anything for that?”

“No, thank you. I already have meds for it.”

Leon thanked when they gave him his aspirin and turned to you. “Wait here, don’t go anywhere.” He quickly left the pharmacist.

Surprisingly, you did wait for him outside. Why? You had no idea. Frankly, you were hoping to cry more in your car.

Approximately five minutes later, he came to you jogging lightly. He thrusted a water bottle in your hand. “Where’s your medication?”

“What?”

“For your allergy?”

“Oh, um—” You couldn’t find a lie fast enough, usually you were not bad at lying but the way he appeared to be worrying about your well-being was baffling to say the least. “I don’t have it, I mean—” You pressed the water bottle to your stomach and held on to it for comfort. “I don’t have an allergy.”

It was his turn to be baffled. “Are you alright?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You don’t look like it.” He looked at you and around you as though checking to see any injury. “You should drink up.” He motioned to the bottle and watched you take a gulp.

“Thank you. Oh, you should, too,” You tried to give him the rest of the water while his stare questioned you. “For your aspirin.”

“I already took it. I’m supposed to take it with water?”

“Yes, Leon. Have you been taking them without water this whole time? Then why did you bring me water?”

“I didn’t know that! You looked dehydrated.”

“That’s not good for you. Now I’m worried about your stomach.”

His blue eyes shined like he came to a revelation. “That’s why my stomach burns when I take them?”

How are you this stupid, you suppressed saying, if you had known him well enough at that time, you definitely would. You forgot for a second that you were annoyed at him for rejecting you few weeks ago and find yourself flabbergasted at thinking that he is endearing, in a way.

You made small talk with him about his lunch break and he insisted on walking you to your car.

“Can I help you with anything?” he said sympathetically once you stood in front of your open car door. “You still look…”

Like a truck hit me, you wanted to complete his sentence.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. It just happens time to time.” You tried to make yourself presentable by adjusting your blouse and hair.

“It?”

“Sometimes I cry for no reason. It happens randomly, too, I don’t know when and where I’ll be crying most of the time. Like, I’ll be reading something, it doesn’t have to be sad, I mean— I was reading reports before I came here. Sometimes it gets too much, like now.”

“Will you be okay driving?”

“Yeah! Talking with you definitely helped.” His apprehensive gaze pierced through you. You actually felt like crying again, your chest feeling tight, eyes burning. You stood upright with the support of your car door. “I’ll be fine, Leon.”

“I’m choosing to believe you. Drive safe.” He shifted his weight on one of his legs and seemed ready to take off.

“Thank you. See you around?”

“You probably won’t for a while,” he said to the ground, soothing the itch on his calf with his other leg’s shin. He looked up and squinted his eyes against the sun. “I got assigned a mission. I don’t know for how long.”

“Oh, I’ll be at your celebratory dinner then, if I get an invitation.”

“Well, I don’t know how it will go. I’ll only invite you if you won’t talk for the whole dinner but flirt with me outside again.”

“You didn’t need to embarrass me like that,” you chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t say I’m a push and pull kind of woman.”

“You can show me what kind of woman you are when I get back?”

“Very smooth, Leon.”

He seemed taken aback. “I’ll see you then.” Suddenly, he was distant again. This time you didn’t know what made him uneasy.

“Yeah… Be safe on your mission.”

He just nodded. You got in your car and gripped the steering wheel tightly until the sight of his leather jacket clad back disappeared. You hunched forward, shoved your forehead to the wheel and tried to take a deep breath. The crying spell didn’t go away as the tears burst down first and then the sobs jerked your entire body.

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

—Like Real People Do, Hozier

The inside of Leon’s car smells nice, he takes good care of it.

“I’m going to see my sister this weekend,” you say, averting your gaze from the way he steers the wheel with one hand. His other hand is on his knee, tapping away. The effect his toned arms have on you is humiliating.

“I think I can make it.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t have anything that day. I can go with you. It’s your mother’s death anniversary, right? I think it’s time I pay my respects.”

It’s these things he says that leave you puzzled. He’s incredibly thoughtful, no matter who he’s talking to. He very well could have his day off-work for himself, but he asks anyway.

“Do you actually want to meet my sister?”

“I do. I hope to make a good first impression.”

You think about it for a second and end up telling him. “I sent a picture of you to her back when we got married.”

“How’d you get a picture of me?” he asks, appalled. The only picture he has of himself besides the wedding one is on his badge.

“Our wedding picture, dummy. We have one, remember?”

“Oh, right, I forgot.” You can’t complain because you keep it in a dresser drawer in the envelope it came in. He was on duty again when it came and you’d showed it to him once he was home. The left corner of his lips had curled up and for a second, you thought you saw affection in his eyes. “It came out okay? I was sweating buckets, but you—" he’d said and pointed a finger to your face in the photo. “Your hands were ice cold, I nearly asked you to paste your hands to my forehead just so I could cool down.”

“We still have the picture, right?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s in my room. Why?”

“Can I have it?”

“Yeah, they sent two. Can I ask what you’re going to do with it?”

“Give it to the mafia or hire a hitman to go after you, what else?” He lets out a hollow laugh. You want to record the sound and have it forever play in your ears. “I want to frame it and put it on my desk. People usually have pictures of their spouses and children or even their dogs on their desks, no?”

Yes, you know. You have pictures with your best friend and sister on your own desk at work.

It’s his way of saying you mean something to him.

You call your sister’s name as soon as you see it. “Why do you have this picture here?”

She’s carrying the empty plates to the sink as you hold on to her fridge’s door handle.

She looks up to see you pointing at your wedding picture. It’s on her fridge. You don’t even display it in your own house.

“You printed it?”

“I did,” she says. “It’s a good picture.” Her house is littered with pictures of her and her husband on different vacations, of you and your mother and her together in some.

“You just met Leon today.”

“And I think he’s great. You’re happy with him. That’s all I could ask for.”

You were happy since he was in a good mood the entire ride coming here. It was long but you two had a smooth ride and he amused you with his corny jokes and stories. You tore small pieces of bagel and fed him when he said he was getting hungry. He was tired from driving the whole time, but of course he didn’t have it any other way and jestingly banned you from getting behind the wheel. He did make a good first impression like he promised, although he kept bobbing his cramped leg. He’s now in the backyard with your brother-in-law, chatting about football, probably.

Your sister gets your attention by giving you a side hug and rubbing your back. “You’re my only sister, of course I’m going to have a picture of your happiest day.”

You hug her back around her waist. She even had photos of your birth in the living room. Your mom in a hospital bed, one day-old baby you cradled in her arms, your father hugging your mother and looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. Did he know then, that he would never be there for you to look at you like that again?

“You remember dad, right?” you ask quietly. She was older and was able to tell stories about him to you. “How was he like? Before he left, I mean.”

“Like I told you, he loved us so much. I don’t know if it was the same case for my mom. She later told me she saw it coming, that he likely had another woman.”

“How did mom know?”

Your sister sighs and rest her head on top of yours. “She said she could just feel it. Said he felt distant. He used to come home late leading up to it, sometimes drunk. One day I woke up and he wasn’t home. Didn’t say anything, just abandoned us like that.”

There’s that sadness again, creeping up to your chest and placing a big rock there. You feel like you’re being crushed by it. Your mom had always been ambitious, had dreams for herself and her family, deserved so much more than what she got.

Leon’s laughing loudly in the backyard, your head whips to see the sight.

“Come on, go mingle with your husband. I got it from here,” says your sister and starts to place the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I’ll go get us some beer,” says your brother-in-law and gets up from his chair. The weather is amazing today, your sister had set up a nice meal outside. Leon was getting along with them well. What more could you ask for?

You find yourself alone with Leon when your brother-in-law goes inside the house. You sit next to him and he promptly puts his arm on the back of your chair.

“How’s your leg?” you ask him.

“My thighs are sore,” he groans. “Good thing we’re not driving back tonight.”

“Well, I wouldn’t let you anyways.” You put a hand on his knee and start to massage, hoping it will help his aching legs. You’re even bolder than a few days ago. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

“It hurts here,” he says and grabs your hand, placing it higher on his thigh. “You can put more pressure, I can hardly feel it.” His thigh is firm and thank God, your hands manage to stay stable. You ball your hands into fists and start to punch lightly where he wants. The meat of his thighs doesn’t even jiggle, reminding you that he’s mostly made of muscle.

You focus up on his knees. “I’ll drive us to the cemetery tomorrow.”

“I can—”

“No. You’re tired, Leon. I want to drive, don’t make me upset.”  

“Would you actually be upset if I—”

“Yes, very.” You pinch his thigh and that makes him press his lips together.

“They’re really nice, you know,” he means your sister and her husband. “I feel like an ass for not meeting them sooner.”

“You like them?” You raise an eyebrow.  

“I do.”

“So, any propositions?”

“Huh?”

“Got asked for a threesome yet?” you smirk.

“I’m sorry?” He’s horrified and you find it funny.

“After I sent the wedding picture to them, they both said you were hot. I just remembered it.”

“I’d rather not know that!”

“Relax, Kennedy. I’m just joking. They’re not gonna ask you that.”

He visibly relaxes and puts you in a headlock in a play-fight manner with the arm that was behind you. His nose and mouth pressed up against your hair, he says, “I’ll just tell them I’m a one-lady type of man if they ever do.” You consider biting his arm.

“Can the lovebirds look up here for a second?” chirps your sister. She has come with her camera outside. “It’s the golden hour.”

Leon adjusts his head to look towards the camera and relaxes his hold on you, arm dangling from your shoulder, other hand engulfs yours on his knee, rings clashing.  

“Aww,” your sister coos as she takes the photo. “I’ll send this to you.”

She doesn’t suspect a thing, probably because you’re not pretending anymore.

You splash your face with cold water after you’re done brushing your teeth in your sister’s guest room bathroom. Leon’s inside the room, splayed out on the bed, exhausted after today. It won’t be awkward, you say to yourself, hope to God your hands don’t start to tremble from anxiety.

Leon has taken off his t-shirt, bent one of his knees and put his hands behind his head. Not helping your case by looking irresistible. Even the tufts of hair under his arms are endearing to you.

“How are you holding up?” he asks once you sit on the bed next to him, back facing him. He knows you will visit Cathy too when you get back.

“I’m good, Leon.” You take off your ring and place it next to his on the bedside drawer. “Never been better, actually. I missed them.” You twist your upper body to face him. “Here,” you say as you place your newly washed cold damp hands on both sides of his face in attempts to cool him down.

He shivers, his shoulders going up slightly for a quick second. “That’s nice,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. You’re silent, in part because you’re speechless before his beauty, but you also would like to try to give him a little piece of serenity he needs.

“This used to be my mom’s room when she was living here.”

He hums softly and opens his eyes, his hands coming up to hold on to your bare arms, the skin between his eyebrows pinched.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hands finding place on his broad shoulders.

He starts to rub your arms up and down, his hands stopping after a while to trace a strap of your tank top with his fingers. All of your worries about intimate gestures going out the window the moment you let his hands wander.

This is the tender domesticity that you’ve been longing for so badly, you want to thank him.

He scrunches his nose. “I wanted to kiss you, now I think it’ll be inappropriate.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your grip on his shoulders is now stronger, begging not to tremble. He feels lonely, he shouldn’t have come here. You have to swallow hard. “It won’t.”

His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, he’s staring at your lips like he doesn’t wish for anything else. “C’mere.” He tugs at your hip to get the lower half of your body up on the bed. He drapes you halfway on his torso.

Once you’re situated to his liking and casting a shadow on his face, he brings you down ever so gently to his mouth, massaging your nape. He’s hot all over, his mouth, his breath on your face, his chest, the hand that’s splaying his fingers on the small of your back. With his soft lips moving lazily against yours, you’re quite literally bursting at the seams. The muffled sigh he drags across your mouth tempts you to press your entire body to his harder and sling your leg across his hips.

His kisses turn into open-mouthed ones and he tastes like minty toothpaste and sunlight on golden hour.

A small noise comes out of your throat, hands straying down to his bare chest and he has to cradle your face to stop. “We should sleep.” His Adam’s apple bobs enticingly. “I seriously don’t want to disrespect your mother’s ghost.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he hugs your head and buries it to his chest, his chin resting on top. “You’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

It’s okay, you think when you feel the low timbre of his chuckle on his chest. We’re okay. We’re doing better.

There's no plan, there's no race to be run The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come I'll be your man if you got love to get done Sit in and watch the sunlight fade Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein

—No Plan, Hozier

The fourth time you saw Leon Kennedy was at a bar. You thought his coworkers were going to be there to see him after his mission but it was just you two.

He had emailed you a day before, saying he asked for your email address from Hunnigan, inviting you for drinks the next day and apologizing for letting you know this late.

“Where’s everyone? Am I early?” you asked, despite noticing the table he was sitting at was for two people.

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sight of him. He looked tired. He had a bit of a stubble and his hair was tousled. “No, you’re right on time,” he said, getting up to pull your chair for you. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” you said, ridding yourself from your jacket. You actually put in the effort to look good that day. A nice outfit, a little bit more makeup, hair done.

As you sat down in front of him, a corner of his lips went up, “You look good.”

“The last time we spoke wasn’t my best moment.”

“How have you been?”

You placed your hands on the table and started to play with your fingers, anxious. “Since then? Better, I suppose. How about you? Your mission went well?”

“Depends on how you define well.”

“You’re still in one piece.”

“If only that was enough.” You didn’t get to see his disappointed expression for long when a server came up to your table and Leon quickly ordered a drink, asked what you wanted and waited with his hands together on the table.

Once the server was away, you slightly leaned towards him. “They should be grateful that they got their best agent back alright.” Although you couldn’t ask him any details about his mission, you knew he was a special agent that was good at this job.

“Hunnigan told me you’re in the archives.”

“Yeah, that happened months ago, before your dinner.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“I—uh…” Your throat felt dry under his piercing stare. “I wasn’t needed there anymore. So I transferred.”

“Really? I heard it’s quite the opposite.”

“Oh, they’re talking about me?”

“Yes, seems like they really want you to work with agents again.”

“I know that,” you said and dug your fingernails to the corner of the table, his eyes following the motion.

“What do you mean?” he said, scratching his jaw. “You said you weren’t needed.”

“I felt like I wasn’t being useful. I tried to quit. They tried really hard to keep me there. Now, they’re constantly asking me to come back after everything.”

“They do know how to squeeze the last bit out of everyone,” he nodded. “Are you happy with where you are right now?”

“As in life?” You rolled your eyes thinking about it. “What does it look like?”

“I was worried the last time I saw you.” He sounded sincere.

“I know, I looked miserable.” Probably looked like the physical embodiment of a cry for help, too. “Can we not dwell on it, please? I’m better now. But now you—” You reach and tap on the middle of the table. “You look like you need to sleep for days.”

“That would be great,” he sighed.

You kept looking at the door but no one from work was coming in. “Why is no one coming, Leon?”

“They won’t, to be honest with you. I only invited you.”

Your back was then one with the chair. “Oh.”

“I should’ve let you know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind the quiet,” you smiled. And then you realized, he was doing the same thing you were doing, pushing anyone and anything away.

Him reaching out to you, this was his cry for help. Why you specifically, you didn’t know.

“You told me you lost a partner in Spain, were you close?”

To that, he dropped his chin and stared at his lap. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t know him. We met under strange circumstances and ended up helping each other. I got the impression that he regretted a lot of things but wanted to believe people could change.”

“I believe people can change, for the better or worse,” you mumbled.

Your server came with your drinks. Leon didn’t waste a second and downed nearly half of his drink. “You tried to quit?” he asked.

“I did. I thought it was time for a little stability in my life. This is as far as I can get to it,” you said and took a sip of your drink which was the same one as Leon. It was strong.

“Stability. That’s unlikely in this job,” he scoffed, fingers tapping at his glass.

“Do you see it as impossible, Leon?” You desperately hoped he would say no, you needed to hear from someone that it wasn’t just a pipe dream.  

He seemed to be thinking for a slow moment. “I guess, for some people, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“For you it would?” you inquired.

“I once thought I would marry my first girlfriend. I was like what? Twenty, twenty-one? I was really stupid and in love. If twenty-one-year-old Leon saw this, he would be devastated,” he said and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can find someone who would understand what I do. It’s not like I can tell them. They’d be in danger because of me. I can’t ask them to trust me blindly. I wouldn’t want them to.”

“If someone was willing to accept you as you are, do you think..?”

“Who in their right mind would?” he groaned in exasperation.

“I would. But my situation is different, I have an understanding of what you do. I also can’t be in any more danger than I already am.” There was a beat of silence after you said that. The drink was definitely too much for you, you were sure. Your ears were burning hot, one hand coming up to cool one down with your nervous cold fingers, your eyes roamed the whole place. You chugged the remaining of your drink and wiped your mouth.

“Whoa, slow down there,” he bolted and looked at your abashed face as if he was in a contemporary art museum, trying to understand what the artist meant with their absurd piece.

Feeling self-conscious, you fixed your hair and babbled out, “Why did you get into this line of work in the first place?”

His back straightened, shoulders rolling back. “I was… recruited.” You didn’t quite understand how but remained from prodding any further. “I was the best candidate for what they wanted. An orphan who didn’t have anything to lose.”

It really wasn’t going well for you. You wanted to bang your head against the table and avoid looking at him completely but after what he had revealed to you, you couldn’t be any ruder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

If Cathy were to hear about this, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Good job honey, that’s one way to woo a man. She would’ve said it in that sarcastic tone which she infamously was a master of.

“No, it’s fine,” said Leon. “You could do so much better than me, though.”

Have you seen yourself, you wanted to exclaim.

Your nostrils were wide, trying to sober you up by hogging as much oxygen as possible, you tried to remain calm, you were feral however. “Why do you keep putting yourself down, Leon? You know, you could’ve called your friends today and they would’ve come running to you. You’re a great person, they don’t give a damn about how successful your mission was. They’re happy that you’re back, that’s all. They are your friends, not the alcohol.”  

He was dead silent, staring at his glass with an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m sorry for overstepping but I saw how they were trying to look out for you at the dinner. There wasn’t even a glass of wine there, celebration my ass. Everybody can tell you’re not fine. I don’t know you that well but even I can tell. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t healthy. It’s self-destructive.”

He wiped his forehead. “You’re the one to talk.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hunnigan’s always talking about how you’re running away every time you see her. She has to drag you everywhere. She’s being nice to you, you could try appreciating that, you know? And you’re clearly stuck up on something, are you trying to repent for your sins or what?” He quite literally disarmed you with his icy stare.

“I’m not Catholic,” you retorted.

“Well, would you look at that. We’re more similar than I thought.” The smirk he had on was sardonic, the furthest from being friendly. You felt an urge to get up and never look back.

“Wrong,” you said as you crossed your arms. “I don’t expect alcohol to solve my problems.”

“Yeah, you’d rather run away from them. And that isn’t going well for you, is it?” He finished his drink and motioned for the server for another. “Also, stop being a hypocrite.”

“Excuse you?” you said with seething anger.

“Are you not trying to ‘get wasted beyond recognition’ right now, as you put it?” he sneered and pointed out your empty glass.

“That was one time, I usually don’t drink. And I’m not planning on drinking more.”

“Oh, did I ruin your fun?”

“Stop that,” you said through your gritted teeth. “Stop being mean. I’m not your friend. You don’t have to push me away. I don’t know why you invited me here. I can just get up and go, leave you with whatever you have up your ass that’s making you act like this. I’m only asking you to stop putting yourself down so much and you’re being all defensive. You know what, I don’t deserve this.” You got up from your chair, grabbing your jacket and purse.

He stood up quickly and tried to follow you. “Sit down, Leon. Your drink is coming.” You didn’t give him any chance to reply and threw the amount of cash that covered your single glass of alcohol on the table.

The walk from the noiseless bar to the nearest bus stop was not pleasant, to say the least. The air was biting cold, hitting your warm cheeks and making you shiver.

Leon only lost sight of you because he stopped to tip the server generously. He fucked up big time, he knew that. It was going to be a pain in the ass if you already jumped in a cab but he had hope that no vacant cab was passing the area on a Friday night.

He was stupid to think this would go smoothly. The last time he saw you, he was concerned about you. The way you’d casually admitted you were not fine was echoing in his mind. He wanted to see if you’d be there by the time he was back from duty. He admitted he was scared for you, for that woman who seemed so small during the funeral, for that woman who had a meltdown in her car in the middle of the day, barely hanging on.

He wanted to tell you today that maybe you should quit. But you had already crossed that bridge.

Maybe you wanted to help people, too. At least at the beginning. Now you wanted peace and quiet, because your life has been anything but. Unlike you, he gave up on that a while ago. He wanted to regard your daring words— I would— as being drunk, he really did.

Ada would never admit she’d want something like that to him, to anyone. Ada didn’t want a stable life, she would never live at a place longer than a month, work with someone more than twice. Even after all of their encounters, Leon still didn’t know what her actual motives were. Raccoon City, Spain, his last mission.

It was pitiful, the way his breath would hitch every time he saw a dark-haired woman wearing red out of the corner of his eye. His heart would pound in his ears for a quick second before he’d realize he was mistaken. He would allow himself, for a brief moment, that maybe it was Ada, here to see him. However, she was never the one to be sentimental. Her every action had a tangible intention that Leon could never guess.

But Leon knew she cared. Enough to save him every goddamn time he needed saving. Enough to ask him to come with her. If he was twenty-one, he would’ve chosen to tail behind her, ready to follow her wherever. Except he had changed, he was not naive anymore. He’d like to think he made the right choice by separating their ways back in Spain. He didn’t know if he was going to be used again.

He also didn’t know what would become of them. Needless to say, he wasn’t going to abandon the mission and ride off into the sunset with Ada yet a part of him wondered about their alternate universe in which he chose to follow her. What would have happened if he just hopped onto that helicopter with her? Where would she have taken him? Was she planning on greeting him properly after all those years? Was he ready to forgive her after Raccoon City?

Perhaps she would have dropped him off somewhere, with a phone number or an address, leaving him confused yet again. Maybe he would’ve reached out, met her in a different circumstance where they didn’t have to constantly run away from trouble. Maybe she’d be living in a small flat and then she’d ask him to come over. Maybe he’d continue to visit her, make himself familiar with her small space.

Except that was not feasible at all, since she was a fleeting kind of woman, just like all the moments they shared. Not there to stay. And none of these would happen, it would always be a different hotel room, different city, barring him from being constant in her life.

A puppy love, he used to think. Young, naive, credulous love. No, he realized, it got older and bigger, sicker. It was time to put it down, put it out of its misery.

He sprinted to the bus station, his hunch was right, you were sitting there, arms folded on your chest, alone. You looked up the moment you heard his footsteps. He left a few steps between you two and braced himself by putting his palms on his knees.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, his eyes were focused on your red nose. Probably from the cold, he convinced himself.

“What do you mean? You asked me to,” you grimaced.

“You said we’re not friends, so why did you come here?”

Your head turned opposite of Leon, resting your chin on your shoulder and hugging yourself tighter. “I wanted some company,” you grumbled, the collar of your jacket muffling your voice. “I think Hunnigan’s right and I might need it.”

“Sorry I’m not a decent one.” He took slow steps to sit next to you on the narrow bench of the bus stop, his shoulder grazing yours. That made you perk up at him.

“I’m sorry for the things I said earlier,” you said, holding his gaze.

“You said a lot of things.”

“Well, I’m sorry for all of them, I crossed a line.”

“Don’t be, I needed the scolding.”

“I didn’t mean to scold you.”

He knocked his knee to yours. “Do you always regret the things you say immediately after? I was an asshole, you got angry, rightfully so.”

“But I was the one who started it,” you pursed your lips.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not kids.”

“I, uh, called a taxi, should be here in a few minutes,” you said after a minute of silence.

“Okay, tell me something in the meantime.”

“What do you want to hear?”

His thumb caressed his brow, he was contemplating. “Would you consider marrying me?”

“What?”

“Would you marry me? If I asked?”

“No, I heard you the first time.” Your eyes took in every inch of his face, searching for a sign, anything that might explain this. “Leon, are you drunk?” 

“No, I’m nowhere near drunk. It takes more than one drink for me to get buzzed.” He crossed his arms, imitating you. “Think about it, we can both try to live calm and stable.”

Your face was contorted in confusion, still for a slight pause. “People don’t marry out of spite, Leon. They marry out of love.”

“Who said anything about spite?”

“You’re clearly angry at something or someone.”

“I am not.”

“This life you are living right now… isn’t quite what you planned, is it? Some things didn’t go according to plan and now you’re here, trying to steer the reins again. And you’re angry.”

“What are you, my therapist?” This time his comeback didn’t sound as if it was meant to hurt you, but to make the air between you lighter. “I guess I do resent some things, doctor.”  

You went along with his enactment. “Admitting is a huge step Leon, I appreciate the honesty.”

“Now you be honest,” he said, bouncing his leg in impatience. “Are you in a relationship? Am I being creepy by cornering you like this?”

“I’m not and I don’t feel cornered. If I did, I’d just get up and go. You just saw.”

He nodded, his lips in a thin line. “Experienced firsthand how you run away from your problems and I don’t mean it figuratively.”

You chuckled. “You are not a problem in my life.”

“Not a friend either.”

Your smile dropped. “I don’t think we know each other that well.”

He hummed, looking far away. “That’s probably your cab.” He got up, shaking off dust from his jeans. “Take my number before you get in and let me know when you make it home safe.”

You gave him your number but didn’t get to write your name in his contacts as the cab drew near. “Thanks for keeping me company, you didn’t need to run after me,” you said as you handed him his phone.

“We won’t dwell on it,” he winked as he opened the back door of the cab for you. “And think it over, okay?”

“What?”

“My proposal. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient.”

“Tell me one good thing that will be convenient.”

“Uh, okay. Here’s two for you,” he said and held up two fingers. “A better healthcare plan and tax benefits.”

You laughed and the driver seemed annoyed that you were still standing in front of the open door. “I should get going.”

“Text me when you get home,” he said when you finally got in the car.

You texted him again two weeks after his ridiculous proposal.

Hi, Leon. Do you remember what you asked me after the bar two weeks ago?

Hi. Yes I remember.

Were you being serious or should I pass it as tipsy nonsense?

There was no response from him for a few minutes and you had started biting your nails nervously.

I was being serious. I wasn’t tipsy.

You stared at his short text longer than it took him to reply. You had already made up your mind but it felt cheap telling him over a text. This was not the proper way of doing this. You also didn’t know how to convey this to him, so you resorted to a playful text.

Ask me properly and I’ll consider it.

I’ll ask you again properly over dinner next Friday? I know a good Italian place.

The next Friday, he kept his promise and said those four words in a fancy quiet Italian restaurant. You said yes.

“I have a request,” you said, swirling your wine before taking a sip. “I want a wedding dress, not like a gown or anything. Just a simple white dress.”

“Sure, I already have a suit that I can wear.”

Your heart tugged in your chest. The fact that you had to buy your wedding dress by yourself, no matter how simple you envisioned it to be, without Cathy by your side was making your ears ring, drowning out all the knife and fork clatter around you.

Here's my hand There's the itch But I'm not supposed to scratch

—Love Me More, Mitski

It’s four a.m. and you want to say you’ve actually seen it coming. Every time something good happens, its catastrophe follows eventually. Just like how Cathy’s mission was going so well until it wasn’t.

It’s four a.m. and the meal you’ve prepared for Leon has gone cold on the dining table. You thought he’d be hungry when he came back from mission, so you went out and bought ingredients, followed a recipe word for word, even made soup additionally just in case he didn’t feel like eating solid food after what his body’s been through. He said he’d be back at one a.m. and he hasn’t contacted you since. You’ve called and texted him numerous times but it was radio silence from him.

He had promised you, before you got married, that he would always let you know when he got back from a mission and he always did. He never once forgot because you were very serious about this, wanted to know as soon as possible that he was back safe.

It’s four a.m. and you feel like you’re going crazy, soaring into a heaving fit as each minute passes by.

The sound of his keys makes you clutch at your chest and before you even realize, your legs are walking you to the front door. He’s being quiet and you wait for him few steps behind the door. His steps are feather light, head bowed down to take off his shoes, he exhales a long breath as he places his backpack down.

He flinches when he sees your silhouette in the dark. “God, you scared me. I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“You didn’t text me,” your voice breaks, your hands are clutching at the sides of your pajama shirt like it’s a lifeline.

“I forgot.”

Your tears threaten to fall down and you’re grateful that it’s dark and he can’t see. You bite down your lip strong enough to make it bleed. “I was worried.”

“I’m fine, you didn’t need to stay up.”

It’s not like you chose to, you physically couldn’t lie down or eat anything when your mind went all haywire, creating the worst possible scenarios it could think of.

“I, um, made dinner.” You point to the table. “But it’s gone cold, I can heat it up. Don’t know if it will taste any good, though. Did you have any chance to eat something? I mean, if you ate dinner, it’s been hours and you’re probably hungry—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I also made soup, so it’s easier on the stomach. You’re tired, right? Just eat some soup and then go to sleep. I’ll heat that up and there’s also tea in the pantry, supposed to help you sleep. Oh, I filled up the bathtub, I’ll go drain it, the water’s gone cold and you probably want to have a hot shower—”

He cuts you off again by blurting out your name. “Hey, hey, slow down.” His calloused hands come up to hold your shoulders and you let out a small whimper of surprise, your chin dropping to your chest. “I don’t want anything, I’ll just sleep.”

You shrug and escape from his hold, so he doesn’t ask you why you’re trembling like a leaf. “But shower…” you manage to make out and point to the direction of his room.

“Yes, I’ll drain the tub and shower, you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” you say softly. He’s home, you repeat deliriously. He’s here, very much alive. The thought calms your nerves instantly.

He doesn’t turn on any of the lights while navigating his home in the dark. You crane your neck to watch his silhouette move to his room. He opts to turn on the bathroom light first. You listen to the water droplets as you put away the food you made for him in containers. He says something you can’t quite hear when he gets out of the shower.

“Did you say something, Leon?” you raise your voice slightly.

“Yeah, did you clean my room?”

“It was messy. Thought it’d be nice to see it tidy when you came back.”

He doesn’t reply right away and your head turns to his direction as if he can see you through the door.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to.”

You actually cleaned the whole house when he was away, not that he had the chance to see it.

You were aware from the very beginning that this was what you got yourself into. You and Leon never promised each other love. But why are you feeling like this now? Stupid question, really. Because things have changed, you’ve grown to love him and you’re afraid. You’re afraid that one day you’ll have to face the world without him by your side because he has become your anchor, holding you in place where you now call home. It’s nice having his warm hands on you, it’s nice coming home to him.

However, in moments like now it feels like you’re playing house, actors going their separate ways after the lights go out. It awfully feels like you’re standing in the middle of a dark stage, curtains closed so nobody can see what goes down behind the scenes.

You’re in front of his door, first aid kit in one hand, knocking. “Leon?” You know he’s not sleeping. He can’t sleep well after he comes back from his missions, his insomnia making it impossible for him.

The door cracks open and you slide past him before he can say anything, perching cross-legged on the side of his bed, placing the kit on your lap before propping his pillow against the bedpost so he can sit comfortably in front of you. “Let me have a look.” You pat on the bed. “And turn on the lamp, please.”

You can finally see him when he does. The first thing you see is the big purple bruise on his side because he’s only wearing his sweatpants. His hair is wet from the shower, hanging to his eyes, eyebags dark and prominent, one of his forearms is freshly bandaged. Despite all, he’s standing tall in front of you.

“They already patched me up,” he says, showing his bandage.

You take his hand and draw him near, making him sit on the bed with one leg dangling from the side. Half of his face is illuminated like this and you can see the cut on his jaw in its full glory. Your fingers begin to work quickly, cleaning the wound all the while he winces by closing his eyes. “Seems like they didn’t take a good look at you. What happened to your ribs?” you ask to distract him.

“Got kicked. They’re not broken.”

You put the band-aid on his jaw and search his eyes as they open. He blinks slowly at you, understanding that you want to hear more. “Hurts when I breathe but it should be gone in a few days, it’s not that bad.”

You take his unwrapped hand in yours, the skin of his knuckles is very red, it probably hurts when he flexes it. You grab the ice pack you remembered to bring with you and place it on top on his knuckles.

“Not there,” he mumbles. “Put in on my shoulder, it’s really sore.”

You place the pack on the shoulder he points. He tries to turn his head that way but his face contorts in pain and he gives up, exhaling a long sigh.

“Did you have them wrap it up?”

“No, can’t be bothered to rewrap it later.”

“That’s why you have me to do it for you,” you hum, adjusting the ice pack. You’re closer to him like this, able to smell his soap and shampoo from his body. You can make out the shape of his chapped lips and yours ache to kiss his pain away, except you are overheated with grievance.

His eyes bore into you, taking you in. There’s an unassuming hand on your bent knee, squeezing lightly. “Did I scare you?” he asks.

“You promised me,” you gripe to him, fumbling with your fingers on your lap after you place the first aid kit next to you. “You promised me that you’d let me know when you were back. Of course I was scared.”

His forehead falls onto your shoulder, damp strands of hair pressed to the side of your neck as the ice pack tumbles down his back onto the bed. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says breathily.

He’s only called you by your name all this time, so this is new. And stomach lurching. Your cheek knocks the side of his head with your startled reaction.

“I have no excuse,” he murmurs. His palm on your knee slides up, leaving a burning sensation as it goes along your thigh, bypassing your hips and finding place on the curve of your waist.

“It’s okay,” you squeak when you feel his thumb caressing your ribs through your t-shirt.

You don’t remember ever sitting down with him, drawing lines about the nature of your relationship, lines that both of you never meant to cross, because you didn’t. You didn’t discuss anything about boundaries because at the time you were getting married, you didn’t know him much. Both of you assumed that it would naturally develop, silent agreements to come.

It was manageable before, now it confuses you to the point of ripping hair from your own head. There were times where you didn’t think twice about giving him a friendly hug, a pat on the back, a reassuring squeeze to his knee but after getting into bed with him, every action was testing the waters.

It wasn’t even a bed; it was the couch in the living room where you had countless dinners and conversations, the heart of the home, if you will. It felt shameful afterwards as if it happened in an open space, because it was quick and devoid of any intimacy, but it was in the confines of your own quiet home still.

You want to go back to the time when you were friends, and not what this was supposed to be. You want to go back to the time when you didn’t know how it felt to have him like that, when you didn’t know his touch would be so tantalizing, his lips unbearably addicting, his warmth conquering.

Initially, you thought you’d cross any bridge regarding him when you came across it, but there weren’t any bridges around to reach him to begin with. You quickly realized that he had burned them before you, for everyone. So, you painstakingly built each and every one of them with your bare hands, desperate to get to him. And him shaking them felt immensely unfair, all your hard work threatened to fall.

Your hand on his chest pushes him away ever so slightly before his hand drops from your waist. He hisses softly yet the action hurts you more than it hurts him. He yields to your touch, back leaning on his propped-up pillow, waiting for you to gather the scatter of your thoughts patiently.

“Stop confusing me, Leon.”

“What do you mean?”

“What am I to you exactly?”

“You’re my wife,” he says. Obviously.

“So why doesn’t it feel like it?”

“We never guaranteed that it would.”

“Yeah, I know that. All this time I thought maybe we were doing better, now I don’t know Leon, you’re confusing me. Either stop giving me hope or just say it outright.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That I’m just a fuck buddy to you.”

His jaw ticks, lips curl in disdain. “How shallow do you think I am?”

“I know we never established any boundaries between each other but it’s gotten to a point where I don’t know how I should act around you.”

His face stays stagnant. “You can’t be serious. Your boundaries were set from the beginning. You never had a place for me in your heart.”

Time seems to stop for you in that dire moment, Leon’s blue eyes serving you a new wrench of dismay. “When did I give off that impression?”

“Our first anniversary,” he clarifies hoarsely. “We ate pizza on the couch, remember?”

You do, you even remember the Disney movie he had rented as a cheeky nod to time you two first flirted. The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“I always wonder why you said yes to my proposal in the first place,” he said after taking a bite from his pizza slice. It had been a year since getting married, Hunnigan was the one to point out to him. Apparently, she was proud of herself due to the fact that she was the one to introduce you two.

“I thought of Cathy and what she would’ve said to me,” you said, watching the animated Quasimodo sing his heart out to the town below him.

“What would she have said?”

“That it is ridiculous and maybe I should say yes.”

“So, you thought of what Cathy would’ve said to you getting married but not your family?”

You turned your head to him, ready to get vulnerable. “Cathy was family to me.”

“I didn’t know you two were that close.”

“Yeah, we met when we were roommates back in college. She urged me to change majors and follow her path.”

“To become an agent?”

“No, she was the one who always wanted to be a special agent. I didn’t know what to do at first but somehow ended up working alongside her.”

“What were you studying before?”

“I was studying to become a nurse. Kind of in my sister’s path, she’s a doctor.”

He scratched his nape, looking ashamed. “I believe I never asked that before, sorry about that.”

You elbowed his side after taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, you better be sorry for not knowing what your sister-in-law does for work.”

He rolled his eyes upon your teasing. “Were they supportive of you changing majors? Your family, I mean.”

“My family’s always been small. It’s just me and my mom and sister. Dad’s never been in the picture. He left when I was a few months old. My mom raised us herself. And yes, she would support anything I did. She loved Cathy because she would make me do things I’d never do myself.”

“Your mom sounds like a great person.”

“She was. She died four days before Cathy did.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he said, much more ashamed than before. You didn’t blame him, the first year of your marriage flew by really fast, with him on duty most of it. Forget sitting down like this to talk, you rarely got any chance to see him.

“Yeah, their deaths being so close fucked me up really bad. We were on mission. My mom was living with my sister then because she was sick. My sister didn’t tell me her condition was even worse than before.”

“Why?”

“Mom knew we were working on something big and begged my sister not to tell me. She thought she’d see me after I was done with the mission. I had a whole fight with my sister about it. I felt betrayed.”

“I think I would, too, in that situation.”

“I was so fucking unprofessional after that. I couldn’t keep on helping Cathy properly. And she—”

“It isn’t your fault.” He shook his head, meeting your gaze in the space between you two on the couch.

“I’m tired of hearing that,” you huffed.

“None of that is on you. It’s the truth.”

“It’s not. I knew the situation was going bad. Cathy tried to make me believe it was not. Somebody else had to be transferred to take my place instead. I insisted but I had to be taken out. That’s when we lost connection to her.”

“How did you know it was going bad?”

“I could tell from her voice. I know her better than I know myself. I failed to get her help. I should have never listened to her.”

“But you couldn’t do that, could you? She clearly gave you wrong intel. You can’t send back-up until—”

“I could’ve made it seem like she requested back-up. That would’ve saved her, exterminated the mission, but saved her. I’d have faced the consequences of my actions sooner or later. If I did that and saved her, she’d be mad at me for years but who cares as long as she’s safe and sound?”

“I get it. I’d also have someone mad at me if it meant they’d be safe.”

“In the end, she died for nothing. The cult she was infiltrating dispersed after they killed her, all fled to different countries. It’s harder to track them down now. They’re everywhere.”

“You follow through with it? It would be impossible to track down each mission.”

“Why do you think I’m in the archives? I have access to mission reports. They don’t think it is bioweapon related, so sometimes they let me see them.”

Esmeralda was dancing along people’s whistles, captivating every man in the square.

“You said Cathy died for nothing but you actually don’t want that to be true.”

Fiddling with your fingers, you said, “Obviously.”

“You’re loyal,” he remarked. “I’m sure she would’ve loved to see her mission completed. Do you ever think of working as an analyst again?”

“Nope.”

From his expression you could tell he wanted an explanation, so you gave him one, “I don’t want to see people get hurt anymore. It’s a dangerous job, you know it. Why are you asking me?”

“No offense, but then why did you agree to marry me knowing I do the same job? If you’re scared of losing someone this much—it just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You sighed, having a hard time thinking where to even start. “You’re going to call me crazy.”

“I would never,” he said, half-jokingly.

“Okay, I really did think what Cathy would tell me to do. I always listened to her, the whole time we got to spend together. She told me what she wanted to do with her life, told me I looked depressed with what I was studying and maybe we should join an academy together. She was larger than life, lit up an entire room with her presence, never spoke ill of someone, liked to help people in any way she could. I’ve always been shy, so she went above and beyond to find me decent blind dates.”

“She sounds wonderful. She was also your matchmaker?”

“In a way, yes. Dragged me to parties with her so I could have some fun.” You gave Leon a smile, recalling Cathy and her antics in your mind, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Nothing sounds crazy so far,” he reassured you.

Finished with your pizza, you dusted off the crumbs into the box and lifted up your knees to sit cross-legged facing him. “I couldn’t keep someone interested in me for more than two dates.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he replied, his eyes traveling up and down.

“No, seriously. This one time, a guy left mid-date, told me he had a phone call, paid for the coffees and just left. I waited there for half an hour. It dawned on me when I couldn’t see his car outside. Didn’t call me after.”

Leon shrugged one shoulder. “His loss.”

You smacked his bicep playfully as a way of thanking him for his compliment. “I only went on these dates because Cathy thought it would be good for me. I had a few fights with my sister about Cathy and her influence on me. She thought I was like her puppet but I genuinely don’t think like that. I told you I knew Cathy like the back of my hand. It was the same for her. Never pushed me to do something I’d be uncomfortable with. Well, I’d feel awkward at times but it would be momentary, I’d learn so much in the long run.”

“That’s a very healthy way of looking at things. I’m still waiting for the part where you think I’d call you crazy.”

“I trusted her judgment because I knew she only wanted the best for me. She’d definitely try to set me up with you if we weren’t so busy all the time,” you said, lips curling into a roguish smile.

His eyebrows shot up, being brazen about it. “Oh, you’re saying I’d have her approval?”

Especially when you keep raking your hands through your hair like that, you wished to say. “Yes, you would.”

“Thank you, that means so much.”

“You didn’t even know her.”

“Well, she means so much to you, I feel honored that you think that way.”

A haze of grief washing over your heart, lungs expanding, you started, “I also… never mind.”

A comforting hand fell on you shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Now you have to say it, don’t leave me hangin'.”

“Here’s the crazy part,” you swallowed dryly. “Whenever I thought of my future, it was always with Cathy. I didn’t even think of getting married. I thought we’d retire together when the time came, she and Allison—her girlfriend—would live next to me. And if they ever had the chance, they’d marry and maybe have kids. I’d look after them like they were my own, be the best aunt. Isn’t it crazy, dreaming of looking after someone else’s kids and not yours? Sometimes I’d lay my head down and imagine myself in a little community, living next door to Cathy and her family, growing my own vegetable garden—though I don’t know the first thing about gardening but I’d learn! I would also grow pretty flowers and give them out to anyone who decided to come over. Go to the bakery in the morning, greet everyone on the way and grab my breakfast fresh out the oven. I’d get so fat! Eating baked goods every day, sounds like heaven to me.”

“Indeed.” With a fond smile on his face, he took of his hand from your shoulder and fully turned to you, bending one leg up on the cushions. “I don’t think I met an Allison at the funeral, was she there?”

“She was,” you said, remembering the painful conversation you had with her. “She arrived really early and left before anyone from work came.”

“What happened?” he asked, noticing you ripping skin off your fingers just like you had been doing during that day.

“I tried to talk to her. She told me I was a liar and walked out—” Leon interrupted your chain of thoughts by taking your hand, preventing you from damaging your fingers further. “I couldn’t keep my promise to her. It’s awful. I told her before the mission that it was going to be okay, we’d done this with Cathy many times and I’d make sure to keep her in one piece.”

Your other hand had a death grip on your knee, nails digging and leaving indents to keep yourself grounded. “They tortured Cathy while she was captive. She died because she refused to give them any information.”

Leon seemed like he didn’t want you to continue, placed your hand in his as though he was reading your palm and started to fidget with your gold wedding band on your ring finger. “Tell me more about that dream of yours. I bet you wouldn’t even install normal ceiling lights in your house. It’d just be little lamps everywhere.”

Giggling, you said, “Yeah! I’d be that auntie that collects little trinkets and displays them all around her house. I’d learn how to knit and make so many ugly sweaters for God knows anyone.”

“So, no partner living with you? Just you with your trinkets?”

“There’s so many types of love and I just didn’t see myself in a romantic one. It just happened that I never pictured myself alone. That’s it.”

His hands slipped away after your raw confession, broad back straightening, appearing tensed up. Yet again, you couldn’t make out what his expression meant.

Esmeralda was now singing a hymn, Quasimodo staring at her in admiration from the shadows.

“I talked so much today, now’s your turn. I feel embarrassed that you know my abysmal attempts at finding love. How about you, Leon? You got any embarrassing stories that you can tell?”

His answer was quick and mischievous, “Yeah, this one time this lady just got up and left me at the bar. In the middle of an argument.”

You pursed your lips and bumped on his knee on the cushions, restraining a laugh you know he’d get satisfaction out of. “Don’t piss me off, that wasn’t even a date.”

“I had a girlfriend when I was twenty-one, she broke up with me before I started working as a cop.”

“That’s so long ago and not that embarrassing if I’m being honest,” you sniffed at him.

“I already told you about how I thought I’d marry her. I really believed my first ever relationship would live to see its future.”

Offering him a new perspective, you explained, “Well, technically it did, it just wasn’t a bright one.”

“Pshh,” he scoffed, turning to the TV, stretching before bending his arms behind his head. “Wait—you’re telling me I’m the only long-term guy you had?”

His late light-bulb moment pulled a chuckle out of you. “Turning it back to me again, okay. No, I did date a guy for nearly one year. And before you ask, he said I worked too much and wasn’t fun.”

Leon’s face scrunching as if he just ate something sour, he blurted out, “Where do you find these types of guys? Did Cathy set you up with this asshole?”

“No, actually, I found him myself.”

“Is he the one who made you think you’re not fun to be around?”

You were left stumped, unable to think of any answer.

“What? If he is, I disagree with him.”

“You only say that because I go along with your corny jokes.”

“Yeah, that’s the only reason,” he chimed sarcastically.

Quasimodo was saving Esmeralda from the burning stake, the sign that the movie was about to end.

“Your dream,” he cleared his throat. “I could just picture it like a happy ending to a Disney movie. You know, they all have happy endings. Besides, I don’t think you’re insane for wanting a happy, peaceful life.”

“What’s insane about it is that I even imagined myself dying before Cathy. Getting buried before I got to bury her. I’ve never thought I’d live the day she wouldn’t, yet here I am… I wrote an entire script for the rest of my life in my mind, that’s why I spiraled down and down and down when it was not possible to play it out anymore. So, I stopped. It wasn’t healthy for me to continue obsessing over my ruined happy ending. I decided to live in the present. Write as I live on. Be more like Cathy, hopefully.”

There was little beer left in his can but he raised it anyway. “In the loving memory of Cathy Donovan, then.”

“I don’t have any drink left,” you gasped, lifting your can. “Cathy, I’m so sorry, you deserve the fruitiest of Martinis.” If Cathy was there, she would’ve laughed like a hyena, found it hysterical that you managed to call her fruity given the context.

After the honorary toast, Leon leaned back and intertwined his hands on his stomach, eyes fixed on the TV screen where Phoebus and Esmeralda were passionately kissing.

“The novel’s ending was not family friendly, I guess,” you mocked.

“I haven’t read it.”

 “If you’re planning on reading it, my lips are sealed.”

“Don’t know if I have the time. I don’t mind, tell me.”

“It’s painfully sad. Esmeralda gets hanged, Quasimodo pushes Frollo from the cathedral tower in grief and rage. That’s the moment he realizes he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. He also refuses to let go of Esmeralda, starves himself holding on to her dead body in her grave. Years later, an excavation group finds their intertwined skeletons and when they try to separate them, Quasimodo’s bones crumble to dust.”

“Now that’s vile.”

Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart Baby, bang it up inside I'm not wearing my usual lipstick I thought maybe we would kiss tonight

Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am I know who you pretend I am

—Washing Machine Heart, Mitski

“How would I know I’d end up here?” you ask him, voice shaking. “We didn’t promise each other anything, so I didn’t have any hope.”

You want nothing more than to ask him about the teddy bear keychain he has in desk drawer, why he holds onto it, ask whether you should be relieved that it no longer has a key attached to it.

There is that gut feeling, clawing at your churning stomach, that tells you he has someone. Someone else who knows him better than you, who is a better match to him, who makes him happier.

Someone he loves.

“But we had sex, it made me question everything and I’ve come to the conclusion that we were both lonely and weren’t thinking straight. You acted like it didn’t change anything, it almost made me go crazy. Please say something so I can finally understand, Leon,” you cry out.

“I don’t regret it,” he declares. “I don’t regret what we did. And I know how we started this marriage, I assumed it would always be the same after you told me your feelings.”  

“I admit I’m hard to be with.” Your head hangs to the side, brows furrowed. “It’s hard for me to trust someone as much as I trusted Cathy. I’m sorry it took two years for us to be candid with each other. I used to be laidback about who I slept around with before. Now, I don’t know, I think twice about how I should touch you, talk to you. I used to think romantic love was not for me, so I wasn’t worried when you proposed because you didn’t expect it. I thought it wasn’t for people like us.”

“But you are capable of love,” he emphasized. “I know you are. You’re so good to me all the time. You stay up all night worrying when I’m not home, cook food for me despite your hatred for it, remember the smallest things and help me out, talk to me when I can’t sleep. I can’t even repay you for any of it and you still continue to be good to me. See, you’re speaking in a way that’s making me think there’s a chance that you love me and I still can’t say it back.”

Your silent tears unsettle him, this is the first time you let him see you cry. He has heard it before, the soft sobs and small chokes at night when you didn’t know he was awake.

You sniffle, “I know you’re capable of it, too, Leon. If the reason you can’t say it back to me is what I think it is, you definitely are.”

You quickly wipe your tears with the back of your hand when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“There is someone, right? You love them.”

His silence speaks volumes and it becomes your acceptance.

“Don’t let this thing between us hamper it, okay? I’m fine with it. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to keep up the faithful husband act.”

“Jesus,” he howls. “Just how terrible do you think I am? This thing between us is our fucking marriage. Not some situationship. Although I can’t make you think otherwise because you refuse to. I’m only gonna say this once, okay? I respect you enough to not sleep around behind your back.”

“Thank you, Leon, but I’m saying it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You take both of his hands, wanting to remember the feel of him. “You love someone else and it’s okay. You’re better off with them. Hopefully they’re better at love than I am.”

You take off your ring and place it in your palm, caressing it. “I know I probably shouldn’t be asking for this but I got so used to the weight of it on my finger. Can I have it as a keepsake?”

He grips your wrist tightly, grimacing. “What are you doing?”

“This is me letting you go.”

“No.” He shakes his head, voice thick. The way he places the ring on your finger again is a wretched overcompensation for not doing it before. You two didn’t have rings at the wedding and you were the one to place it on your own finger after purchasing them. “You’re running away,” he speaks in a hoarse croak. “Where will you go this time, hm?”

“I’ll resign and move close to my sister.”

His palms are cupping your jaw, fingertips in your hair. Him closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours is a way of saying I can love you if you give me time, I know I can.

“Stay,” he whispers, narrowing your whole world down to his warmth and you shudder from it. “Just tell me what you need.”

I need you to love me more, love enough to fill me up till there’s no crack left for me to write happy ever afters that will never come true. I need you to fill me full up, love enough to drown it out. Drown me out.

“Kiss me.”

“That I can do, honey.”

You know perfectly well that you’re selfish for wanting him like this. However, you yearn for the still of his hands on you, the irresistible feel of his skin on yours.

A kiss is placed on your temple, another one on your damp cheekbone, another on your jaw. Your eyes are closed the whole time he moves slow with his kisses. He grazes his nose beneath your ear, bringing you close to the brink of tears again. His hot breath is licking the other side of your face after, pecking the corner of your mouth.

“Scoot,” he says before gripping your waist and tipping you towards his torso. “My back is killing me like this.”

You’re afraid of hurting him with your weight but he insists, pulling you and placing you on his lap, getting you to straddle him, your thighs encasing his on either side. Your face a few inches above his, he tips his head back and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You can see a gash on his shoulder that disappears down his back which you didn’t notice before and you become aware once again that this isn’t the right moment to ask him for this.

“Leon—”

He can tell you’re about to get off him and he shuts you up by pulling you in a crushing kiss, pressing your chest to his with arms around your back so you won’t get away. “Stay here, don’t run away from me,” he says between labored breaths. His fingertips dance on your sides, making the hair on the back of your neck stand. He can probably feel your heart thumping crazy against his chest.

You caress the indent on his chin with your pointer finger, leaning down to kiss it. Leon lets out a delicious sigh, hands feeling up the sides of your thighs.

“Why did you kiss me at the wedding? There was no one to see,” you finally ask.

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the side trying to remember it. “The officiant was there. And the photographer.”

You nod and his lips are on yours again, tender this time. He opts to place quick kisses over and over again when he’s done being gentle. A chuckle escapes you when his nose bumps yours.

Fingers drifting under your shirt, he scratches your back up and down with his blunt nails. Any inch of skin he comes across, he kisses. Earlobe, jaw, neck, shoulder peeking through shirt. One hand splaying his fingers on your back, middle finger in line with your spine, right between your shoulder blades, the other one comes up front, lifting the front hem of your shirt. “Take this off.”

He doesn’t move the hand on your back when you’re taking it off, eyes dropping down to meet the new exposed skin. But you feel too naked, even though he’s wearing the same amount of clothes as you. You hug him around his neck, careful not to hurt him, bare chests pressed together.

He clasps the tops of your arms, biting the inside of one bicep.

“Ouch.” You retreat. “Why did you do that?”

“Let me see you.” He tips you backwards after his hand comes up to your nape, your butt slides on his lap, making you sit right on his crotch. He lets out a content hum, not embarrassed of his half hard erection. You cling to his biceps although his hand on the back of your neck is securing you in place.

A kiss is planted to the base of your throat and then to each collarbone. The hand on the front cups the underside of your breast, goosebumps rising on your skin. A wet kiss on the valley of your breasts, his breath cooling it. A low moan from you when he takes a stiff nipple in his hot mouth, finally giving it some attention. He twirls his tongue around it, teasing, before licking it right.

Your hips move involuntarily, rubbing against him through clothes all the while he sucks, kisses, grazes teeth. A jolt of electricity travels down to your core when he switches sides, underwear clinging to your sticky folds. You keen into him, pushing your chest out when he begins to suck a bruise under your breast. Your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging on his damp strands.

You discern his knitted brows and inclined back before tapping his shoulder. “Leon, stop.”

He halts the moment he hears you. The sight of a string of spit connecting his lips to your chest is obscene. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re hurting. You should lay down,” you say while standing up.

His eyes never leaving you, he gets off the bed as well. He seizes you under your arms, picking you up with ease. “See, honey? I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” He doesn’t let you protest and nips at your bottom lip before sloppily kissing you, tongue claiming every crevice of your mouth.

“No, put me down!” you wail, kicking your feet in the air.

“Okay, okay,” he grins, setting you down on the floor. Your heated cheeks amusing him, he takes your hand and places it on the waistband of his sweatpants. “This is the only thing you need to worry about.”

You decide to be daring and slide your hand down, palming him through layers of clothing. “Fuck,” he huffs, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours, big hands pawing at your backside, fondling your ass. Your hand slips past his briefs, touching him without any barriers.

“Oh, just like that,” he encourages you when you pick up a pace. His abs tightening, it doesn’t take long for him to fully get hard. “Ah, wait—”

“Hm?” You look up at him, just holding him in your palm.

“Need to get a condom, be right back.” He squeezes your ass one last time. “You better take everything off,” he teases before stepping away to get to the bathroom.

Second thoughts come rushing to your mind the time he’s undressing and grabbing a condom in the bathroom. Maybe, you shouldn’t do this. It’s only going to make it harder for the both of you. You admitted loving him and he wasn’t able to say it back. But he told you to stay, he needs you, wants what you’re able to give him. And you desperately need to give him all you have, mind and body, even if it means for a short time.

Because you know you will never be able to love like this again.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a packet of condom is thrown on the bed in front of you, hands gathering your hair on one shoulder to return messy kisses to your neck from the back.

Your back meets his pecs, his erection snug between your bare ass cheeks, you sigh softly when his fingers find their way to your clit, making your spine tingle. You hold on to his forearm, clawing at his veins as he gathers your wetness from your entrance, back to circling your bundle of nerves with now soaked fingers. His bandaged hand urges you to spread your legs more before finding place on your throat. He ruts his hips against your ass, breathing loudly while you whine out incoherent sounds.

He groans your name, drawing your attention up to his scrunched face. “You’re so good to me.”

“Leon,” you whimper as he drags two fingers all the way along your slit, pumping them inside. The way you stretch around his fingers distracts him from the rhythm of his hips, making him still. But you crave the friction, arch back your own hips to get him to move again. Your hand winds around and finds his aching hard dick, thumb stroking the precum all over his angry red tip. Your head rolls back over his shoulder and you want nothing more than to properly see.

“Leon, I’m close,” you moan and push his hand away. “I want to see you.”

“Anything you want, honey,” he pants in your ear, tip of his tongue tracing the shell of it.

You crawl to the middle of the bed, endowing him the sight of your glistening slit before laying down on your back, waiting for him to get on top of you. He parts your legs, taking a good look before smearing his tip on your folds, a mix of your wetness and his precum making it extra slippery.

“Please,” you manage to make out, one arm across your chest, another resting on his shoulder.

He rips your arm from your chest and pulls both your wrists above your head. “I said let me see you.”  

He doesn’t let you fuss, fucking up his cock against your clit, allowing himself the bare feel of you for a little while.

He kisses your pout away before retreating to roll the condom on. You hiss as his tip breaches your entrance, legs trying to close on instinct, but he’s laying between them. He gets you used to the feel of him inside before you nod for him to move, slowly at first. Once your back arches and your hips shift, he gets the message to piston his hips faster.

He searches for the right pace just by examining you, what your face does when he tries something new, how your back arches, by the sounds you make. Not too fast, not too slow, he eventually finds an angle you particularly like.

“Too good for me,” he chants whilst thrusting, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head. You notice the absence of his ring but you don’t worry about it because you know he leaves it on his desk when he’s away for a mission, not wanting to lose it.

Your legs hug him around his waist, heels pressing him into you deeper. “Yes, yes, yes…” You keep singing his name when you feel it building up inside.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he grunts, listening to the slaps of skin and your frantic cries of pleasure.

“Good ‘cause I’m so close.”

He takes that as a challenge, making sure you reach your high before him. He watches as you do, walls clenching down on his length, lips chasing his.

He’s cooing in your ear between your gasps, coaxing your bliss out of you. “I know, honey, I gotcha. You can let go.”

Your mouth opening in a silent moan as your orgasm ripples through you, hands trembling in his hold, legs trying to shut, your entire body quivering as you ride it out.

Irregular thrusts of his hips bouncing your breasts in front of him, he nestles his face between them, breathing in your scent. He noses the blossoming mark he left under there and moves slow, dragging it out as much as possible.

He sinks boneless on you, his weight feeling comforting rather than crushing. You embrace him as he softens out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He peels the condom off and lays on you for a while, head between your ribs, trying to catch his breath. You wipe away sweat from his temple, frowning.

“You’ll have to hop in the shower again.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he says, voice muffled and nasal. “And you’re coming with me, too.”

“Leon!” you shriek, playfully slapping his twitching bicep. “You shouldn’t tire yourself more.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I was gonna ask you to wash my back.”

After a few minutes, you drag him in the shower, helping him soap his back. He stands under the hot rain when you’re cleaning yourself with his body wash, eyes and hands wandering, groping here and there. You smack his naughty hands each time, can’t help but giggle. However, he’s tired and sleepy, so he’s only playing.

You offer to change his sheets but he insists on doing it in the morning and tugs your arm to your room, preferring to sleep in your clean sheets. He nearly falls asleep as you blow-dry your hair, waiting for you in the bed.

As soon as you’re snuggled up to him, he tucks you to his chest, chin on your forehead. Soft sighs tickle the crown of your hair.

“Can I ask you a question?” he murmurs, barely audible.

Your pointer finger stops drawing circles on his pectoral muscle. “Mhm?”

“After your mom and Cathy passed away, how did you survive? There has to be a reason.”

“I actually planned to end it all after both funerals. I told myself to just get past that week. It’ll all be over in a week. But there’s my sister. She came with me to help with Cathy’s funeral. Forced me to eat anything she could cook while I lived on autopilot. She was washing my hair in the sink when I realized I can’t leave her behind. It’s just not fair. She has a wonderful husband but a husband doesn’t mean forever— I mean, look at what my mother got. A deadbeat husband who left her with two little kids. My sister doesn’t have any kids. Worst case scenario, her husband leaves her and—”

He retracts abruptly to search your face, hand on your cheek to steer you to him. “So, you wrote a script again. With a sad ending.”

“My sister is my only family left. I don’t want her to live unhappily.”

“Hey, I’m your family, too. Why are you talking like I’m not here?” He presses a long, soothing kiss to your lips. His fingers tip your chin up. “Look at me. What do you have in that mind of yours? What kind of script do you have for us?”

You lie. “I don’t have one.”

He smiles. “Good. Because we’ll write one as we go on.”

(a/n: a very short part 2 will be posted here in a few days, keep an eye out for that. ty for reading!) >> read PART II.

[yueebby]

Ok so this is a random and weird scenario i thought of after watching some INTERESTING videos on YouTube, I know but I just need to tell someone(it involves lovesick!Gojo- and no this isn’t a request, more like a rant😭)

imagine- it’s summer and all the second year students are sweating and want something cool to eat. Satoru randomly brings in a watermelon and challenges the others to try and open it without any cursed energy or a knife, just pure raw strength. Nobody can do it except him and he laughs a bit before reader crushes the watermelon between her thighs and opens it just like that…IDK Y I THOUGHT OF THIS AND IDK HOW HE WOULD REACT TO THAT BUT I IMAGINE HE WOULD BE RED IN THE FACE AND LIKE ‘me next🙋‍♂️’ IM SRY IM AWARE THIS IS VERY WEIRD😭😭

2:35pm — gojo satoru

synopsis. a certain challenge makes gojo go feral for you

contents. fluff, CRACK, lovesick!gojo, he is (highkey) a pervert, everyone in jujutsu tech is sick of him

“The one and only Gojo Satoru is here to save the day~” The familiar drawl of a sing-song voice calls over the sound of the dingy fan that you and Shoko were huddling in front of. Both of you were sprawled on a tatami mat with the door wide hoping, hoping to catch a gust of wind.

The grin adorned on his face didn't falter when his only response was three annoyed groans.

“It is way too hot for your antics Gojo,” You look up from the fan to half heartedly glare at the white haired boy in front of you. He stares at you, blue eyes slightly wider than usual before he gulps. You brush it off, knowing that you probably looked like a mess, considering you had just finished training in the sweltering Tokyo heat.

Your usual uniform is long gone, replaced with the dress shirt that you wear below it. Even with the undershirt and your skirt, you’re still suffering from the particularly hot day, skin glowing in the sun as a silent testament.

Gojo is forcibly kicked out of his trance upon Suguru harshly bumping shoulders with him.

“Show them what we got,” Suguru’s smooth voice says. Your eyes follow down to whatever he was referring to.

Without any difficulty, Satoru holds up a large watermelon proudly. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight of the large green fruit. How refreshing!

“Ah you didn’t have to go through the trouble after your mission, Suguru!” You leap from your spot, a bright smile painting itself on your face.

The pleased look on Satoru’s face turns sour. “I was the one that brought the watermelon?” He lifts the large fruit, flexing the muscles that were showcased from his dress shirt being cuffed up to his forearms.

“I should be the one getting the thanks, it was my idea to get it in the first place,” Shoko wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The taller boys in front of you look sheepishly away under her stern gaze.

You wrap an affectionate arm around her, “You’d make a good wife one day Shoko.”

Gojo’s jaw drops incredulously, leaning closer into your face, “What about me? [Name]! Wouldn’t I be a good doting husband too?”

You lean away, flustered at his sudden confrontation. His intense blue orbs never leave your face, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Shoko snorts, shielding you from his heavy gaze. “Anyways, how are we going to cut this thing? You brought a knife didn’t you?”

…

There is a long silence shared between the four of you.

You think you see an irk mark appear on Suguru’s forehead.

“I clearly told you to bring a knife from the kitchen,” Suguru snaps his head to his white haired counterpart.

“Must’ve slipped my mind, heh,” Satoru whistles. “We can just break it ourselves, no?”

TEN MINUTES LATER—

“Ready,” Satoru’s smile grows wide. “Go!”

You watch expectantly as Shoko’s hand descends onto the watermelon in a swift chop. To your shock, the watermelon stays unharmed despite the legs of the wooden table below it creaking loudly.

“Wha–?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

Satoru shrugs, “Better stop smoking and start training. You’re falling behind~”

You and Geto have to hold Shoko back from lunging at the smug white haired bastard.

“Next challenger, step up!” Satoru announces.

Fueled with hunger and the desire to get your hands on the juicy watermelon that awaits, you sit down on the cement floor of the school with the watermelon in your lap.

You gently place the fruit in between your thighs, inhaling slowly.

Squish!

The watermelon breaks in half with a crunch.

“Oh,” You blink in shock, surprised that your plan managed to work. “I did it.”

Your joy is short lived when you realize that your legs are sticky as a result of the juices of the fruit. A sheepish smile makes its way onto your lips.

“Gah–?!” Gojo chokes on air as he watches your thighs glisten with the sunlight. Though his mouth is agape, no words seem to escape. He’s nearly certain that the heat rushing throughout his body is not from the sun.

Shoko whistles, squatting down to eye level with your thigh to assess the damage done. She gives your thigh a good squeeze, “Nice legs.”

You’re too flustered to hear Gojo growl from just a couple of feet away at Shoko’s shameless attempt at flirting.

“My face next.”

extras:

- the only reason why satoru forgot to get a knife was because he was practically skipping to you once he got through the gates of jujutsu tech. suguru was nice enough to spare these details from you.

- despite all sorcerers being able to detect cursed energy, gojo satoru is pretty exceptional, being able to mask his cursed energy usage. that, and you were too tired to even notice it. (he lightly coated the watermelon right when each person went up to break it. suguru noticed immediately, but wanted to see how the prank would play out).

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi I was wondering if u can do more roommate Ethan landry like he walks out of his room to find reader in the kitchen with lingerie and SMUT u can add the rest I love ur work btw🧸

Request: Reader with a slight exibitionist kink where she likes to flash her tits in public places to tease Ethan and Ethan gets hard every time

This smut sucks and I'm so sorry

Warnings: 18+, public nudity, oral (m receiving), 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Ever since he drunkenly confessed to being a virgin and having never seen a girl naked before, teasing your roommate became your favorite hobby. The best way to do so, you found, was by randomly flashing him in public places. In the subway, during your morning runs in Central Park, or even in your apartment building's hallway. 

It was amusing to watch him get flustered and whine every time. 

Your favorite one was at the bodega down the street when getting snacks. 

It was never anything too scandalous. Just a quick flash of one of your breasts when nobody but him was looking. 

Little did you know, all those teasings were driving Ethan crazy. The number of public boners he got lately was embarrassing. All because of your pretty tits. God he wished he could cum on them and paint you with his cum. 

A couple of weeks of teasing later, the game was still just as fun as the first time. You thought Ethan would get less flustered with time, but he didn’t. His whines turned into groans, getting more annoyed at you than scandalized. There were a few incidents where someone else got a peak too, like that one time in the subway, but you got out before the man could come sit next to you and try to get a grope. 

‘’Tara changed her mind, by the way,’’ you told Ethan while finishing your slice of overpriced cherry pie at the café around the block. ‘’She will be joining us on Friday. She and Sam got into an argument and she wants to piss her off by going to the Kappa Phi party.’’

Ethan frowned. ‘’Won’t this aggravate the situation?’’ he asked, already done with his late lunch and just playing on his phone. 

You nodded. ‘’Probably, but Tara is set on pissing her off more.’’

‘’This is not gonna end well and I don’t want to be there when it blows up.’’ 

‘’Me either.’’ You looked around to see if anyone was looking your way, then pulled the top of your cami and flashed a boob. ‘’I can’t finish. I’m full. Do you want the rest of my cherry pie?’’ 

‘’I told you not to take the pie—’’ His words were cut off when he looked up. ‘’Ugh, please stop,’’ Ethan whined half-heartedly, covering his face with his palm to hide how flustered he was. 

You giggled in return, pushing your plate toward him. ‘’Your face matched the pie’s filling.’’ 

In the midst of the jokes and all the teasing, you fell into the cliché of falling for your roommate and found yourself developing feelings for Ethan. You didn’t think this would happen when you signed the lease, but he was sweet, dorky and surprisingly muscled under his preppy polos.  

The problem was, you tried to flirt with Ethan, but he was rather clueless when it came to understanding girls' intentions. Seeing that your hints weren't working, you decided to take a more direct approach. You bumped up your teasing by dressing in lingerie and casually strolling around the apartment one Sunday morning. Perhaps this would finally make him realize your feelings for him.

The bra and panty set you chose was light pink and barely covered anything. It was a guaranteed boner. 

In Ethan’s routine, Sundays were for staying in and watching movies or catching up on his readings for Monday’s classes. However, this Sunday was different. When Ethan woke up and went to get the coffee machine working, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his roommate standing in the kitching in lingerie. 

‘’Shit. Sorry. I didn’t know you were up.’’ 

You turned around when you heard his voice and saw Ethan’s eyes were wide like a deer caught in headlights, pieces of curly hair sticking up at the back from moving during his sleep.  

He gulped, averting his eyes from your body and trying to stay calm — in other words, trying to not get a boner. ‘’Did you have someone over? You probably do… I didn’t hear anything though, which is strange because these walls are paper-thin.’’ Ethan covered his face with his palms, immediately regretting that last sentence. ‘’Eh, I can go to Chad’s and come back later when your date leaves—’’ he rushed, stumbling over his words. 

‘’There’s no one here. I dressed up for you,’’ you responded with a playful smile.

Your words hung in the air, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty enveloping the room.

‘’For me?’’ Ethan echoed skeptically.

You nodded, looking up at him sweet and innocent as you awaited his response. ‘’Do you like it?’’ 

Ethan twitched in his sweatpants, his mouth unable to form any words. 

‘’I've been trying to drop hints, but it's like you're immune to them. So, I thought maybe this would make it a bit clearer…’’ You stepped closer to him, pushing your shoulders back to make your chest more forward. 

Ethan's cheeks flushed a shade of pink darker than your lingerie. He scratched his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. It was too early for this kind of confession. His brain was barely awake. ‘’I... I didn't realize. I thought you were just teasing me because of me being a virgin.’’ 

‘’Initially. But I found myself developing a strange liking to the dorky virgin I was teasing,’’ you said, taking a step closer to him and closing the gap between you. ‘’What do you say we stop playing, Roomie?’’ You reached between your breasts and unclasped your bra, freeing Ethan’s two enemies for the last few months. 

Not knowing what to respond, Ethan simply kissed you. 

While he lacked experience, it wasn’t his first kiss. He had kissed a few girls during high school…and had a lot of practice kissing the back of his hand. 

Luckily for him, you were there to show him the ropes, your hands wandering up and wrapping around his neck to pull your body closer. He gasped softly against your mouth, feeling your breasts press against his chest through his shirt, your body warmth sending waves of electricity through him. 

You slid one hand underneath his worn Star Wars shirt and Ethan pulled back when he felt his cock twitch again. And since your body was so close to his, you felt it too. 

‘’Sorry… It’s just—’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay. I got you,’’ you assured with a sweet smile, wanting to make him feel not so anxious about his lack of experience. You wanted him to focus on what you were going to do to him. ‘’I got you.’’ 

You pressed your lips to Ethan’s once more, taking his hands as you kissed and running them over your body. They found the path to your breasts and Ethan couldn’t help but give them a small squeeze, making you laugh softly. Of course he would do that. 

As you slid down him to the floor, Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. You felt him tense and looked up, telling him it’s gonna be okay. He nodded and you pursued, undoing his  dark grey sweatpants and slowly pulling them down. His boxers were already tented as you moved your hand over his hard cock, a small wet spot of precum making the fabric a darker color.

Ethan was pleasantly big, but not so massive you would need two hands. You slowly slid your hand down the shaft, maintaining the slightest pressure. At the base you grasped a bit harder and dragged your hand back to the now reddish head, circling it in your fist.

‘’Aah fuck,’’ Ethan moaned out. It felt much better than his own hand.

You giggled at his reaction and continued your ministries. ‘’I haven’t put my mouth on you yet.’’ 

‘’I don’t ca—’’ his voice was cut by another moan, his whole body shuddering as you leaned forward to give him a long lick from base to tip. 

You kept licking up and down his shaft, wanting to get him nice and wet as you moved your hands to his balls. Ethan threw his head back, the muscles of his thighs flexing. He was going to cum fast, as most first-timers embarrassingly did. 

Not wanting him to spill before the fun began, you opened your lips and took the weeping, engorged head into your mouth. 

‘’Fuck, that feels so good!’’ he moaned out weakly, his hands searching for something to grab, something to hold onto.

You grinned around his cock and opened your mouth wider, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. 

After a little over a minute, Ethan couldn’t hold it anymore. He was a whimpering and moaning mess above you, gripping the countertop to keep his control. As soon as you felt the first spurt of cum in your mouth, you pulled off and let him cum all over your breasts, painting them in white ribbons. 

You had never done this before, but you thought Ethan would like it. And he did. 

When he was done, he looked down at you, cum running down your chin, and whined as his cock twitched.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld  @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy  @s-al-em  @darylscvmdumpster  @tommysaxes  @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely  @aqshua @lynbubble  @luiise  @planetkt  @vampyrgoff

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

[natailiatulls07]

Can you please do plationic drivers with redbull driver reader and she has all the older drivers and team principals especially Christian wrapped around her finger and can never get in trouble and the younger drivers made it their mission to get them to see she’s not innocent but it always backfires? 🤷‍♀️

OC x Driver!reader Lando Norris x Platonic!reader Oscar Piastri x Platonic!reader Logan Sargeant x Platonic!reader

Summary - The request above x

Warning - Slight smut

A/n - I change it slightly from the request because I feel like I don't write enough Mercedes!reader

Reader drives for Mercedes

-

Mercedes driver, Y/n L/n was loved. She had many people wrapped around her pinky finger; including Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton and her team principal, Toto Wolff. It’s safe to say that she got the best princess treatment imaginable. 

Of course with this treatment, many thought of her as spoiled and also thought she got away with too much both off and on track. Including other drivers such as Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant and especially Lando Norris. They were all a bit suspicious of her.

- 

It was media day. Around the sofa in the conference room sat the two McLaren boys, Logan Sargeant and Carlos Sainz. The press conference was scheduled to begin ten minutes ago, yet it was being held off. Why? Because Princess Mercedes hadn’t arrived yet. 

They were all just waiting for her. Unlike the younger drivers on the sofa next to him, Carlos was patient and was desperately trying to reason as to why Y/n was late to the others. Only getting several groans, eyerolls and annoyed frowns from them in return. 

“Mate, just admit it. This is annoying, she’s wasting our time” Lando argued back with his old teammate. 

But was unsuccessful when Carlos just shook his head before defending her again. “She had a hard weekend last week, we have to be patient with her…” Y/n didn’t have a hard weekend, far from it. She got on the podium but not her usual position of first place, only being able to finish the race in third. Logan couldn’t believe how manipulated Carlos was by the Mercedes driver.

Standing from his seat, Oscar pulled the others' attention towards him. All of them looked at him with confused frowns. “I’m going to find her, she has to be around here. Anyone joining me?” And suddenly the confused frowns on Logans and Landos face turned to smirks that matched Oscars.

All three drivers made their way out of the conference room and through the paddock to the Mercedes motorhome. It was a surprise for the Mercedes team and other people in the paddock to see two papaya drivers and one dark blue driver entering the motorhome. 

Some of the team tried to stop the boys from climbing the stairs up to Totos office and the two drivers' rooms but were unable to stop them. So once they got up the stairs, it was Toto's turn to be confused. 

“Uh excuse me, you shouldn’t be up here…” He tried to reason with them but couldn’t. “Seriously you can’t be-” He was cut off by Lando asking a question.

“L/n? Where is her driver room? She’s late for the press conference…” Logan could see how Totos' eyes softened at the mention of one of his drivers before pointing down the small hall to the last door on the right. “Thanks.”

With big strides in his step Lando followed by the other two, made his way to the Y/n’s driver room. Banging his fist on the door loudly, they could hear some intimate noises. The smirk deepened on his face and his eyes widened. 

-

I wasn’t meant to get intimate with my personal trainer. It was just that he was there, we had that tension between us. 

One second, I was finishing up my instagram live. And next…I was half naked and laid under Don on my sofa. Upon hearing movement outside my door, my whines and moans were quietened.

We were having fun, both of us feeling aroused by the whole thing. Yes, it was risky but that added to it. Smirks were painted on our faces and our eyes were on each other. The two of us in our sexual heavens, it was like nothing could break us from that.

Except a loud banging on my door. I sit up. Clutching my chest protectively and eyes widening. I look over to Don. He’s rushing to pull on his boxers and teamwear. 

Luckily I had pulled a nearby blanket over myself and Don had his boxers on when Lando followed by Logan and Oscar had crashed through my door. All three of them with chester cat smirk on their faces. 

Lando’s the first to speak out of everyone. “Ah ‘innocent Mercedes driver caught mid make out with her personal trainer’ Imagine that all over twitter…” He chuckles, slowly stepping backwards ready to parade around the paddock with this new scandalous piece of information.

Leaping forward, holding the blanket around myself, I grasp onto his wrist. My eyes piercing into his own. This would ruin me, I couldn’t have my innocent image tainted. “Please Lando! Don’t do this!” 

He only replies with a shameless giggle, shaking off my hand and rushing out of the room, with the other two hot on his tail, back to Toto. Almost giving myself whiplash, I turn to look over to Don. Our eyes widened and panicky. 

With the identical look in our eyes, we both move quickly to put everything back in order and to make it seem like nothing happened. I’m quick to pull on my teamwear with Don doing the same with his own. A swift look in the mirror helps me smoothen my hair down and wipe away the soft smeared makeup on my face. 

Only managing to breath out a sigh of relief before we hear the sound of rushed footsteps again. Toto and Lewis softly open the door, behind them I can see the others trying to hold in their smirks.

The older two both look confused as me and Don both feign innocence. “Hey guys, is there something wrong? Me and Don were just going over my new diet” Speaking softly, I know that I will win this. I watch as Toto shakes his head and gives me a sweet smile.

“Oh nothing, these three trespassers claimed you guys were uh…” An awkward tension falls in the air. He was too embarrassed to continue the sentence so in order to help him out I just frown my eyebrows and shake my head innocently.

Behind them, I can see the smirks falling from Landos, Logans and Oscars. They know immediately that they’ve lost. It’s hard for me to hold in my laughter but I manage to do it. “All good, we were just finishing actually…” I turn my back to the five and I face Don, now letting a smirk make its way on my face. “Thank you Don, I will be sure to start on that new diet”

Don nods softly, aware that his boss and the other drivers can all see his facial expressions so he leaves it to a small gentle smile. “Of course, well if you excuse me I have to go. Bye Y/n, bye everyone…”

We all watch as he makes his way out of my room and down the hall, followed closely by Toto and Lewis. This gives me a chance to smirk at Lando, Oscar and Logan who all look defeated. “Don’t we have a press conference to get to? Wouldn't want to be late right?” I quip cheekily in a gentle whisper.

-

[girliism]

senior year was all you and your best friends art and patrick dreamed out. but since you’re threesome became a twosome senior was not what you dreamed.

art spent the first month ignoring you and patrick which was hard given you all had the same classes. patrick was trying to pretend it didn’t hurt him as much as it did but you can only pretend for so long.

the two of you were at his house doing homework. patrick sitting on his bed and you in his squeaky desk chair. “can please stop squeaking.” patrick said very annoyed. you stop your movement. “sorry” you mumble. patrick sighs upset at himself for his outburst. “i didn’t burst at you tennis just sucked today.” you spin around in your chair and crawl onto the bed to take place in his lap. “what happened?” you question pushing your forehead against his. “art traded me for someone else to double with.” art and patrick have been double partners since forever. they never switched not even when patrick kissed art when they were 12 and art punced him in the face and didn’t talk to him for weeks.

you were getting sick of the silent treatment. you missed your best friend you missed art. you missed being with the both of them.

“ok class, today i don’t feel like teaching you so we’re gonna play dodgeball. girls to the left boys to the right.” dodgeball was supposed to be banned in school for promoting violence but your gym teacher could care less. “have we as a society been pushed so far back that you must still separate us by gender in game used as an excuse to be violent.” some girl in class complained. your gym teacher got in her face. “either get to the left or fail my class. now remember nothing below the waist and nothing above the neck.” his whistle rang throughout the gym, and your body moved faster than your mind immediately picking up the ball and chucking it at arts face. “oh my god.” you rush over to him. “what the fuck?” art’s holding his bleeding nose. “what did i just say! jesus someone get this kid to the nurse.” “i’ll do it.”

the two of you walk side by side to the nurse in complete silence.

“you’re our third dodgeball incident this week. hold this i’ll be back.” the nurse leaves. the ticking from the clock cuts through the silence. “so um, how was your summer? is your grandma doing better?” you speak first. “it was fine and my grandma’s fine too. she asked about you and pat.” art’s voice was muffled by the tissue he held on her face. “what did you tell her.” art cocked his head up at you. “that the two of you ripped my heart out and stomped on it.” he said sarcastically. the two of you. art realized this summer that’s his feeling about you and patrick were a lot more complicated. maybe he wasn’t completely upset that you guys were sneaking around maybe it was the fact you guys were doing it without him.

you kicked art in his shin. “ow! will you please stop hurting me.” he lightly kicked you back. “will you please stop being so annoying about this or does a nearly lifelong friendship mean nothing to you?” art wants to forgive you guys it kills him inside, watching the two of laughing and hanging out when it’s usely the three of you. “i’m not ready for that yet.” the nurse walks back in. you and art just staring at each lips saying nothing but eyes saying so much.

“boyfriend.” you smile walking out of your house to patrick’s car. “girlfriend. you ready.” patrick hooks his arm around your neck placing a kiss on your cheek. it was senior ditch day and something you guys always wanted to do for senior ditch day was to go paintballing.

“you guys get an hour in the arena if you run out of paint balloons there’s extra room on the side.” the worker instructed us. “room for one more?” a voice says behind you. “art.” you and patrick say in unison surprised but happy to see he came. picking up on the weird tension the worker added. “also no sex in the arena.” the three of you share a look before heading in.

it’s been five minutes and no one has moved. each seated behind their own pillar waiting for the other to move. “will someone please throw a balloon.” you huff. “i’ll go first. art why don’t you stop being such a jealous pussy.” patrick chucked a ballon at art hitting his arm with paint. “why couldn’t you keep it in your pants.” art threw a ballon back hitting patrick leg. “why can’t we just have a fun time.” it’s your turn to throw ballons at them. “not until he admits that he’s jealous.” patrick steps out into the open. “what the hell would i have to be jealous of.” art steps out too. the two standing face to face. you peak your head up to watch the interaction. “i’m glad you traded doubles partners with me, now i don’t have to do all the work.” patrick stares at art. “only cause you can’t breathe without all the attention being on you.” art smashes a ballon right in the middle of patrick’s chest. “you little shit.” patrick tackles art.

patrick and art roll around on the ground fighting like children. “maybe if you weren’t so scared of your own feelings you would be with us instead of moping around like a lost puppy.” patrick says rolling on top of art pinning him down. art knees him in the back cause patrick to fall over. “fuck you, you don’t know anything.” sick of the both of them fighting you come out from your hiding spot. “would the two of you shut up.” one of them accidentally knocks you in the ankle causing you to fall on top joining in on the rolling. “and what about you huh kissing both of us and making everything confused.” patrick accuses, elbow digging into your side. “don’t blame this on me. it not my fault i want both of you.” the three of you stop rolling and lay on your backs looking up at the sky.

“what does that mean.” art ask even though he knew exactly what it meant. “means she wants to date both of us. freak.” patrick says adding the last part jokingly. you punch his arm. “but you can’t date two people just because you can’t make up your mind.” you groan coving your face. “that not what i meant.” you whisper. the implication of your words float through the air. “oh. i mean i wouldn’t mind you know dating both of you.” patrick understood first cause he too has thought about it. this was all too much for art. “you guys are insane.” art stands up staring down at you and patrick still on the ground. “why are we the insane ones? what’s insane is still after all these years you ignore what you feel for me.” patrick scoffs getting up to confront art. art feels like he can’t breathe and he breaks down crying. “shut up. i don’t have feelings for you i-i can’t.” you and patrick pull him in for a hug letting him cry out everything he’s been bottling up since middle school. “it’s ok art.” you whisper squeezing him tight. “my dad would kill me.” art speaks. “we’ll take care of you.” patrick says. the three up you stand there for a while just hugging before going to get milkshakes.

it took a while for art to get comfortable with the whole throuple thing. you guys told yours and patrick’s parents but were waiting tell you were in college to tell art’s parents though his mom had a feeling. “it’s so good to see the three of you together again.” arts mom set a plate of cookies in front of you guys before leaving you to eat them. she turned around suddenly remembering she had to tell art to call his grandma later but stopped when she saw how the three of you huddled together. your arm looped lightly with arts and how patrick ruffled his hair letting his hand linger longer than normal.

days blended into months and before you know it you and art were pack his car up to drive to stanford for early set up. “you know it’s not to late to join us pat.” you say wrapping you arms around his waist. “yeah i’m sure your dad has contacts there he could get you in easily.” art adds slamming the truck shut coming up to hug you from behind sandwiching you in between them. “as tempting as that sounds i fear life on the road to the pro tennis league is calling me.” you and art pout breaking away from him. “you’ll come visit us right.” patrick looks offended you’d even ask. “my two favorite people in one place together, i’m gonna be there every weekend.” patrick places soft kisses on yours and arts lips before pulls you guys into a hug. “call me when you get there.” you tell him ok getting in the passenger seat and art in the drives as you ride off sticking your hands out the window to waving until your out of sight.

maybe adulthood won’t be so bad now.

(and that is the end. the throuple continues to live happy and healthy forever ☺️.)

[gr1mstar]

heyy can i request a LnD and how the boys will react if them and the reader are in a heated argument, and they accidentally said something extremely hurtful to the reader, which made the reader cry? thank youu

OH, SHIT…

notes: of course. sorry for the long wait, love. ❤️ at first i tried to make is like a story, but i changed my mind and so because you did specify what exactly you want (headcanons, oneshots, etc) i decided to make it this way.

contains: love and deepspace boys x reader, crying, mean words, reaction, angst, strong language.

ZAYNE

at first he didn’t realise what he had done, but realisation hit him when he saw your tears.

“sweetheart, you know i didn’t mean tha-“

he didn’t really get to continue his conversation because of a slap he received from you. he was shocked, eyes wide and mouth open.

“just shit the fuck up, zayne. i do not need your ‘medical advice’ again” you said, making your way outside his office.

and so you refused to answer his calls, texts, facetimes all day, staying in your apartment crying.

after his shift, he regretted all his actions and how he made you cry. the stress and anxiety got the best of him, and so he decided to surprise you with some flowers and chocolate, making his way home ready for another slap and to give some explanation.

“i really, really hate you” you too him, looking at the chocolate he got for you, too angry to eat them.

“i know. i’m sorry. it’s not going to happen again, i promise.”

RAFAYEL

when the first tears appeared on your face, he knew he was fucked. he didn’t really mean what he said, the deadline of his painting stressing him out.

he said your name, putting the paintbrush down and looking at you, with fear in your eyes. ‘i fucked up. they are angry’ he thought, trying to make the distance between you two a little bit shorter.

“just… i’m going to leave. if i’m so annoying to listen, then i’m shutting up and leaving. have a great day, rafayel.”

and so he was left alone, with an unfinished painting and tears in his eyes, thinking that the fucked up his relationship with you.

later in the day, when he made a plan to win you over he called you, asking where you are and what are you doing. he surprised you with something, apologising and saying he was an idiot for snapping at you.

“i love you, darling. you know i need you like a fish needs water.”

XAVIER

two stubborn people. he was wrong, he didn’t really want to say it out loud. seeing you tears after, he realised he fucked up and all his thoughts vanished in a moment.

“baby. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-“

“no. xavier… just. go back.” you told him, leaving him behind in the forest, looking for wanderers.

“no” he shouted back, running after and you taking your hand. “i didn’t mean that.”

“you did. you just said it. that i’m not good enough? that i’m not a good hunter? i should quit?”

“no. fuck.” he said, taking your face in his hand. “i’m just worried.”

“you don’t have trust in me. i hate it, xavier.” was your response, not wanting to look at his eyes.

and so you had a serious conversation in the woods, xavier apologizing and explaining why he is worried. in a way, you understood him, but you didn't want to think that you were a weak hunter.

"i love you. i'm just worried about you."

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile II

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: It's beginning to be a littler darker. Slowly we will see Alastor's mindset. There is blood in this chapter and a bit of sadism from Alastor. But I hope you'll enjoy it. I can't wait for them to grow up so it can get darker and darker~

You were so bored. You were laying on the floor of your bedroom, staring at the ceiling. It's been a whole week since you played with Alastor and you couldn’t wait for the weekend to come. Your mother wanted you to make friends in your new school and the weekend you would be able to go play with Alastor, and she would be able to meet with her precious friend.

 You pouted. You were still trying to find new games to play with Alastor, you didn’t want him to feel bored with you, you wanted him to want to be friends with you!  You didn’t want him to see you as a child, you were eight years old, he was a year older, if you were a child so was he ! You stood up and went downstairs, meeting your mother in the kitchen.

“ Mommy, what do boys like?” you asked, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. You didn’t know why but you felt embarrassed to ask your mother. Most of the time, your friends would follow your lead as you decided the games you wanted to play. Your mother turned toward you with a knowing smile.

“ What do boys like or what do Alastor like?” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes. You shook your head so hard you almost lost your balance. How come she already knew you were thinking about the boy?

“ No mommy ! It’s just… At school, they don’t play the same game I used to.. So I’m asking you, what kind of games were you playing when you were my age?” you tilted your head, proud of you. You weren’t lying , you were also curious about your mother’s childhood, but if it could help you find a game Alastor would like.. 

Your mother held her chin with her finger, looking at the ceiling, searching in her memory. After a few seconds she shook her head and went back to cooking.

“ I’m sorry sweetie, I don’t really remember. It’s a shame you don’t want to know what Alastor likes, Marie told me some information about him but I guess you are not interested.” she sighed with a smile as she cut the vegetable on the kitchen counter. You looked at your mother, eyes wide open, curiosity devouring your inside. 

“ What does he like, Mommy? Tell me, tell me!” you bounced next to her, grabbing her dress with a beaming smile, already forgetting that you wanted to keep your curiosity about the boy a secret. She laughed as she patted your head, putting the knife down.

“ Well, he likes food, he always loves helping Marie when she is cooking but if my memory is correct he doesn’t like sweets. He also loves music, he plays the piano very well !” She told you as you stared at her. He liked food and music… 

You didn’t know how to play an instrument  and you only knew how to make sweets - with your Mother’s help-. how were you supposed to be closer to him with that information!

 “ Well sweetie, don’t look so down! You can sing with him while he plays the piano, can’t you?” she tilted her head as she stroked your cheek. You blushed and shook your head, you loved singing but you didn’t want Alastor to hear you, what if he didn’t like your voice? He didn’t see you as a proper lady, what if he deemed your voice annoying or worse ! Maybe you could try to cook something for him with your mother’s help..? As you shared your idea with your mother she smiled and promised that this weekend you would cook something for Alastor and his mother.

~~~

Finally! You buzzed with excitement as you held the plate that contained the food you made with your mother. It was almost 2 pm as you walked toward the soon to be familiar house.  Your father didn’t come with you this time, saying that he would not interfere with your mother and Marie’s gossip. You couldn’t hide your smile as your mother knocked at the door, laughing at your eagerness. Three seconds later, the door was wide open with Marie hugging your mother and kissing you on both cheeks. You really liked “La bise”, you hoped she would keep doing it.

“ Well, well, what is that my dear? Did you make it for us ?” Marie asked as she took the plate from you, inviting you inside her house. You nodded with a proud smile, looking around to see if Alastor was there. “ If you’re looking for Alastor, I think he is in his bedroom, playing with his radio.” You didn’t wait for her to give you permission, as soon as she told you where Alastor's bedroom was, you were running, trying not to fall the stairs, eager to play with the boy. 

You quietly opened the door and peeked inside the bedroom where you could hear music playing. And there he was, his back to you,his head moving with the rhythm of the melody, sitting on a chair with a radio on the desk in front of him. You grinned and walked slowly and quietly toward him, you were going to give him the scare of his life. As you inhale air to shout near his ear–

“ How rude, entering a boy’s bedroom without permission.” Alastor turned his face toward you with a cocky smile. You almost said a bad word but held yourself and you smiled at him.

“ I see no boy.” you grinned, as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, just like he did the first time you met him. He blinked and brought his face closer to yours, his smile getting bigger and bigger. You blushed and took a step back. “ What ?”

“ You know that I could hear you from the moment my mother opened the door? You aren’t really discrete. “ he took his glasses on his desk and put them on before looking at you once again. “ Why are you here ?”

You almost choked on your own saliva. What did he mean? Didn’t he want to see you again? Trying not to blush from embarrassment you just turn your head to the side, closing your eyes, your lips in a small pout. 

“ Well, my mommy wanted to see your mommy and she brought along. I didn't want to see you again!” you stuck your tongue at him before turning your back at him. Your face was red, disappointment and embarrassment were circling in your body. You felt so upset, so lonely.... You felt Alastor’s hand on your shoulder but didn’t move, you kept your back at him. You were done being nice to him. Serves him right! 

You heard him sigh before you felt his hand on your eyes, covering them. You stood still, confused. What was he doing? Can’t he see that you were angry with him? You opened your mouth to tell him to back off but–

“ I didn’t expect…to be content to see you today.”

You stood there for a minute in silence, his hand still covering your eyes. You couldn’t help the big smile stretching your lips. You put your hand on his eyes, as you could because you couldn’t see anything, but Alastor took your hands and put it on his eyes.

“ I wanted to see you too.”

You both stayed like this for a minute or two until you couldn’t hold still any longer. You took your hands off his face and he did the same. You smiled at him before kissing both his cheeks, just like his mother did to you. He looked at you, his smile twitching but didn’t do anything else. You clapped in your hands, feeling overjoyed once more.

“ I cooked something for you ! And don’t worry, it’s not sweets !” you smiled, pleased with yourself. Alastor blinked, tilted his head and grinned.

“ Why did you not make sweets ?”

“ I thought you did not like sweets?”

“ How do you know?” he teased.

“ Whatever, it’s not important!” you walked toward his radio with big shining eyes. You listened to the music coming out of it and turned to Alastor with a big smile. “ Let’s dance !”

You saw his smile stretched with a glint in his eyes. He held his hand toward you like a gentleman. Just like how your father did when he danced with your mother in the living room. You took his hand and jumped to the rhythm, laughing as you saw Alastor face drop, his smile confused, watching you jumping around as you held his hand in yours. You encouraged him to jump just like you, you didn't know if he was timid or something else but after some time he began to dance with you. 

He took your hand, making you twirl, your dress moving with your movement. You looked at him, surprised. He seemed to know how to dance like an adult! He smirked at you and you couldn't bear to see his face so satisfied, again. You let go of his hand, dancing toward his bed… and then, you took a pillow and threw it at his face. You watched as it hit him right in the face, making him stumbled back, falling in his behind. You laughed loudly, holding your belly.

“ Serves you right Mister Alastor–” you fell on your bottom as Alastor ran toward you and hit you with the pillow. He had a big grin on his face, laughing and hitting you with the pillow as you were laughing, trying to escape him. He pinned you down and held the pillow in his hand above his head.

“ Rule number one, never drop your guard.” He hitted you with his pillow. “ Rule number two, I’m the strongest here.” he hitted you once again. “ Rule number three, give up.” He smiled as he watched you trying to sit up but each time you tried, he would hit you softly with his pillow. As he held the pillow once again above his head, his shirt raised a little, making you able to see his belly. You tilted your head as you saw .. bruises ? You looked at his face and saw his gaze on you, any kind of fun was no longer present, even his smile seemed to have faded a little. 

You quickly took his hand and put it on your eyes, covering your vision.

“ I wanted to make you something, I know you don’t like sweets because I asked my mother what you would have liked…” you bite your lips, your cheeks red. You wanted Alastor to laugh again, you wanted him to have fun so you began to blablated about your old life, what you liked to eat, to do… you let his hand go but he kept it on your eyes. After five minutes of you talking alone you stopped.

“ … So you sing?” he asked.

“Yes! ” 

“ We can try a duet if you are good enough.” he took his hand off your face with a playful smile. You grinned, mission accomplished !

“ Kids, come downstairs !”

Alastor stood up and helped you sit up. As soon as you were ready, you went downstairs where your mothers were waiting for you. You sat on the sofa with Alastor as you began to chat the afternoon away. Beginning to get bored after twenty minutes, you looked at the windows and squeaked in glee as you saw a cat walking. You jumped off the sofa and ran outside. 

“ Kitty, kitty, hello~” you approached your hand and let the cat nuzzle against your hand. You smiled as you petted it, happy to hear it purring. You heard footsteps behind you and soon after you saw Alastor, standing still as he stared at the cat. You didn’t know what happened but the cat began to hiss toward your friend, you tried to calm it but its claws dug into your hands before it ran away. You let out a scream as you held your hand against your chest. That hurts ! You looked at your bleeding hands, tears welling up in your eyes.

“ Let me see.”

You sniffed as Alastor took you hand in his, watching your injury. You tried to not cry, you didn't want him to think you were a crybaby! He asked if it hurted, to which you answered with a nod.

“ You can cry if you want.” You shook your head but let out a shout as Alastor dug his nails in your hand. You looked at him, eyes wide open with tears streaming down your face, why did he do that? But what was even more confusing was that Alastor was staring at you, without blinking.

“ Don’t be ashamed, you can cry. I… I think I want you to cry.” he looked confused even with his smile. You didn’t know why but you began to cry as Alastor was observing you. You didn’t know what was happening and it was kind of scary but maybe Alastor was asking you to cry because he couldn’t cry? You thought about his bruises on his belly and cried louder. You were scared. You opened your eyes to see Alastor’s face closer than a moment ago. 

“ You…–”

“Alastor.”

Alastor flinched as he tored his gaze from you and looked in the voice’s direction. You tried to look behind you but he kept you against him, hugging you. You sniffed but didn’t move. Who was that?

“ Father.”

“ Why is this chick crying ? For God’s sake, what have you done boy?”

“ The cat scratched her.”

“ This stupid cat… I’ll shoot it next time.”

And just like that, the man entered inside Marie’s house, shouting about his arrival and that he was hungry. You searched Alastor’s eyes but he hid your eyes once again with his hands.

“ Never cry in front of this man.”

You just nodded.

~~~

Marie was cleaning your cut while your mother was petting your hair, saying that you were a brave girl because you weren’t crying. You couldn’t help but look at the man, sitting on the sofa with a glass of… whiskey was it? Alastor was sitting next to you but his smile seemed so tense. 

“ I think it’s time for us to go home, I wouldn’t want to go back when it’s too dark.” Your mother said as she stood up. Marie did the same and you turned toward Alastor. You whispered into his ear. 

“ I’ve made pizza with my mother. I hope you will like it.” He looked at you as you gave him a happy smile. He took your uninjured hand in his and dragged you to the kitchen. He looked around to be sure that nobody was here then, he took a knife and took your plate. He began to cut two pieces of pizza and offered you one piece. You smiled at him and began to eat the pizza that your mother and yourself made. You stared at Alastor as he munched, looking at the food in his hand. He looked at you and smiled softly.

“ It’s good.” you beamed at his answer. “ Next time, I’ll cook for you.”

You hurriedly finished your food before going toward your mother who was calling for you. You kissed Alastor on the cheek and waited for Marie’s bise. You waved them goodbye and left with your mother.

~ ~ ~ 

You were staring at your ceiling, in your bed. You were supposed to be sleeping but your thoughts were too loud to be able to fall asleep. You sighed and looked at your injured hand. Why did Alastor want to see you cry? Why did he not want you to cry in front of his father? You huffed, next weekend, you’ll ask him. And if he doesn't you will hit him with a pillow.

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova

[sagucpuppet]

painter x reader where they have both known eachother for a long time, reader goes to visit him (but having to obviously go through every door there lmao) and they hang out but for no reason, mid-conversation they lean over and kiss painters screen and continue talking like nothing happened and he's just overheating XD

(i love your painter work to death, please continue writing for him or it'll be my funeral tomorrow, please please please, keep writing it's amazing n beautiful PLEASE)

𓋜⠀⠀⠀i’d always knew i’d find you. <3⠀⠀⠀⠀⨟⠀⠀

ℓ⠀⠀⠀⠀₊⠀⠀⠀⠀extra: painter goes by he/him and reader goes by they/them.⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⟢⠀⠀⠀⠀a/n : CAN SOMEONE CHECK ON ANON FOR ME….YOU OKAY BRO.⠀⠀⠀⠀!

𓋜 ; you stumbled room from room, trying to make it to your friend painter. you were honestly SO. tired from hiding from the monsters you hoped to god that you were about to finally make it to heavy containment where painter was, speaking of him! you and painter has been buddies for awhile now! you always stop by to greet him and have a little chat and catch up on how he’s doing. you’re always worried for the guy whenever new expendables come in his room, he’s particularly violent to them most of the time, yelling at them to stay out of his room, you wished he wasn’t THAT…harsh on them though! but he’s particularly nice to you always, and on your runs the turrets never get in your way, not even good people! in honesty you were glad you didn’t have to deal with them..good people can be annoying sometimes..but you immediately snapped out of your thoughts when you realize you almost walked head first into the heavy containment door…wow..you should really pay attention..

𓋜 ; snapping out of your thoughts about hating good people, you searched for the purple keycard which was on a desk right next to you, cheerfully swiping it off the desk you put the card into the keycard reader which opened both to a heavy metal door, the number read “60” , you could’ve swore that last time you checked you were on door 40…well whatever! you quickly threw the purple keycard somewhere in the room having no need for it anymore. you quickly searched each room, but having no luck finding your buddy. you sighed sadly and went on to the next..and the next…ANDDD the next one…ANDDDD…the next one….pinching your nonexistent nose in annoyance since you still have your diving helmet on, you quickly realized and rolled your eyes, but blinked once you saw those server rooms you remembered you went through each run! you cracked a smile before walking over.

𓋜 ; the metal door quickly opened before you, letting you see the contents of the room, and spotting your buddy painter! painter then snap up as soon as he heard the door open, getting ready to say a sassy remark to the next expendable, before he realized it was you! painter’s screen switched to an annoyed face to a happy one! he quickly said “ooohhh!! reader your back again!” painter said cheerfully, you smiled before taking off your diving helmet and setting it down on a nearby desk, you said “hey painter! how have you been doing?” you said gleefully before strolling over to him, painter happily responded talking about his day, you listening carefully and nodding, times like these are the best thing ever, just enjoying each other’s company and talking about anything and everything.

𓋜 ; you asked about his paintings, and he gleefully starting telling you on every piece he was working on, sometimes stumbling over his words for a moment trying to tell you every detail! you don’t mind him rambling at all! it’s almost endearing in a way…you thought of something for a moment, smiling mischievously, “oh and! about that one art piece i was making for— “ you leaned down and kissed his screen, painter stopped talking and it was almost like his screen was lagging, but you started gushing over happily about his paintings and skills, painter looked at you like he was the happiest computer in the world, he could feel his systems overheating quite a lot…by the minute..he only said “whaa…—“ before shutting off, you quickly realized and you spoke “uhh..painter..?” , “PAINTER!” you yelled before running over to him.

A/N : can’t let a fellow painter fan die🔥🔥🔥

[diabolikangel158]

Plane Rides with Hazbin Hotel Characters

Drabbles with multiple characters: Flying in an airplane with various characters from Hazbin Hotel and you ask to kiss them (I don’t know if they fly in hell, but for scenario purposes, we’re gonna pretend they do. What’s the worst that can happen? They die? LOL). Includes the Vees, Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, and Angel Dust.

Warnings: Reader written either as female or no pronouns mentioned. Suggestive themes in some of the characters’ stories, tooth-rotting fluff in others’.

Vox: 

Vox sits next to you typing away on his VoxTek laptop. You give him a sidelong glance. This is supposed to be a vacation. You take a small sip of your soda and sigh. 

Vox gives a sigh in return. “What is it?” 

You shrug in pretend nonchalance. “It’s just… well, we’re supposed to be on vacation…and you’re still…well, you're still working, Voxy.” 

He grumbles and rolls his eyes, turning to look at you. “I run a whole technological empire, Y/n. I can’t just leave it for two weeks unsupervised. Who knows what would happen with Val and Vel being the only ones there to run the Vee’s.” He states in a factual manner while continuing to type away at whatever document or email he was currently working on. 

You look away, mumbling a slightly annoyed, “Right…”

Vox glances back up at you. “You're frustrated with me, aren’t you.” He says it more like a statement, not a question. 

You shrug again. “Depends. Can I kiss you?”

Vox looks at you with a pause, seeming to consider your request. He starts to smirk. “Such a needy girl, hm? I suppose it’s fine, it’s a long flight after all.” You smile at him, leaning to kiss him gently on his cheek before pulling away. “That’s all you wanted, to give me a little kiss on the cheek?”

You give him a fake pout. “Well, I thought that was all I was allowed… since you’re so busy and all…” 

His smirk widens. “You’re such a princess, needing my attention all the time.” 

You give a smirk of your own in return. “Can’t help it, I’m spoiled like one after all.” You pause for a moment before asking, “Can I have more?” 

Vox leans a bit closer to you. “Depends… beg for it.” 

You feel more courageous than usual on this flight, “I can beg better if we go to the bathroom.” 

His eyes widen slightly at your words, not used to you being so forward. His expression returns to his calm and snarky nature. “You’re lucky there’s no police in Hell, doll, or you’d get us both arrested.” He grabs your hand, practically dragging you to the bathroom.

Seems like you are able to get Vox to relax on vacation after all. With a little work on your part, of course. 

Velvette:

Velvette lays in a comfortable reclined position, feet up,  face mask in place, and of course, phone in hand. Of course she bought out all the seats around you two, stating that she didn’t want to be “disturbed” during such a long flight. You, on the other hand, sit upright. She might as well be on vacation by herself. You were accustomed to her not really talking much to you during work, but you thought that perhaps being on vacation with her, she would be more open to speaking with you at least. Though it seems, you thought wrong.

You clear your throat. Velvette glances at you for a split second. “Something the matter?” 

“It’s nothing.” You lie. 

Velvette straightens in her chair. “You know I don’t like liars, darling.” 

You stiffen at her words. “Well you…” As you try to find the words, she removes her face mask, tossing it in a little trash that was provided. “You look so… relaxed but… I”

She gives you a slight glare, but she also wears a small smirk; it borders on malicious. “Not giving you enough attention, pet?” She strokes your hair, as though you really were just that: a pet. You can’t help but lean into her touch, though. “Poor thing, we’re on vacation, and here I am neglecting you.” She leans over and presses a soft kiss to your lips and she smiles when she sees a light dusting of color paint your cheeks. “How cute.”

With Velvette, who knows her pet so well, you don’t even need to ask. 

Valentino:

You sat on the plane with Valentino, fiddling with your phone as he carefully decided on which jewels he’d like to use to decorate the new gun he bought. “Amorcito, which of these make this gun look sexier on me?” Val asks you, holding up an emerald and a ruby up next to his face. 

You give him a shy smile and say, “Honestly, anything looks sexy on you, Val.” He grins back at you, but motions his hands again, urging you to pick. “Hm… but I think the rubies really match your aesthetic, babe.”

“Aww… you know me too well, carino.” With that, Valentino goes back to gluing on the jewels. Without warning, you feel your stomach growl. Your eyes widen in surprise. Valentino finishes adjusting one of the red gems on his gun before looking over at you. “Oh, amorcito, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling hungry?” He pouts at you. 

“Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother; I can just eat when we get off the plane!” You say hurriedly. 

“Nonsense.” You feel something inside you cringe, making sure it doesn’t show on your face. Here we go… Valentino angrily waves over a flight attendant. “Hey! Didn’t you hear her stomach growl? She’s starving!” He yells. 

The poor attendant rushes over to see what the commotion is about. “Sir?” 

Val glares at him as you look down between your knees in embarrassment. “Did you not hear me? She’s hungry. Take her order. Now.” Your boyfriend demands. 

“Of course.” There is a nervous shiver in the man’s voice. Poor guy. “What would you like, miss?” 

“Um… I’ll just take a Coke and like…a bag of chips. Thank you.” You mumble out the first, simplest things that came to mind. 

Valentino places a hand on your thigh, shaking his head. His tone is sickeningly sweet in stark comparison to how he has been speaking to the attendant. “No, no amorcito, that’s not a proper meal.” He turns his attention back to the attendant, the harsh anger returning to his voice. “She wants a steak, medium well and a side salad. Oh, yes and we’ll both take a glass of Chardonnay.” The attendant just looks at him, perhaps trying to figure out how to tell Val that they don’t carry that or maybe just in general fear. A beat passes. “Well hurry up, don’t you think you’ve made my princessa wait long enough?” He runs a finger along his gun, the threat plain. 

The demon nods immediately. “Yes of course. So sorry.” He runs off without another word. 

You let out a sigh and Valentino plays with the fat of your thigh. “Only way to get the bitches to fall in line, amoricito.” You only nod in response. Despite yourself, a faint blush rises to your cheeks. He tilts his head with a sly smile. “Naughty girl… you enjoyed that didn’t you?” You only nod, but you knew if you could, you would tell him that sometimes you were just happy that you weren’t the one bearing the brunt of his abuse. 

“Can we kiss?” You ask in a hushed voice. 

Valentino’s hand rises higher up your thigh, brushing against the seam of your panties. His grin is salacious. Valentino leans close into your ear and whispers, “Oh, we can do a lot more than that.” The demon rushes back, careful not to ruin any of the items the two of you– well, Valentino– had ordered. He gently places everything in front of you and Val. Everything looks perfect and you dare to give a smile, thanking the demon softly, words tinged with apology; Val doesn’t even acknowledge him, seeing as something else more… interesting… has captured his attention. The demon just appears relieved to not have to interact with Valentino and quickly takes his leave.

Valentino busies himself with marking up your neck with little love bites. “You best hurry and eat, amorcito. You’ll need your energy for what I have planned for us on this flight.”

You shakily take the knife and fork into your hands and begin to eat and Valentino finally pulls away to take a sip of his drink with one hand, a wicked grin gracing his features. He leaves another one of his hands on your core, the remaining two absent-mindedly returning to toy with the decorations on his gun while you eat.

You shiver, but you know better than to shut your legs. You should also have known better that you wouldn’t just get mere kisses from Valentino of all people. 

Alastor:

You sit comfortably in the well-cushioned seat of first-class with Alastor, the one and only Radio Demon. You notice as other demons walk by, making their way to the back of the plane, that they make all the effort to avoid eye contact with him, and you by association. He sits on the seat near the walkway, and you by the window, something about how it’s safer for you that way. You huff slightly, taking a peek out the window. Being with Alastor had its perks, but making friends or even speaking to people outside of those who lived in the hotel was rather…difficult. Being the Radio Demon’s girlfriend made it quite hard, since everyone was scared off by that simple fact alone. 

Alastor doesn’t seem to mind, and actually appears to revel in the other passengers’ fear of him. Your huff doesn’t go amiss by him, though. He turns to look at you, ever-present Cheshire cat grin on his face. “Is something not to your liking, my dear?” You turn to look at him, shaking your head. He clicks his tongue at you. “Now, now, you know I dislike liars.” He leans over, affectionately squeezing your cheek.

“Well… you know I love you…” Alastor nods, closing his eyes with a smug expression, as if this were an obvious fact. “I just think how sometimes…” 

As you're about to express your feelings, a demon walks by and notices Alastor, stopping dead in his tracks trembling. You offer a shy smile, to which Alastor cranes his neck completely around; if he were normal anyone would have thought he had broken his neck. “Can I help you, my fine fellow?” His eyes light up with radio dials and his voice distorts like it’s on the radio in the middle of switching channels, full static. The poor demon screams an apology before running off to the back of the plane. You regret smiling at him, sighing. Alastor turns his attention back to you, his regular smile back on his face. “You were saying, my dear?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to make new friends because I’m… well I’m with you. They don’t see “Y/n,” they see “The Radio Demon’s Girlfriend.” You know?”

His smile doesn’t falter, but his eyes lose their smile a bit. “I see. Well, darling, there really isn’t much I can do about that. I recall you having made plenty of acquaintances in Cannibal Town, though!” He replies cheerily. 

“Yeah… but even those are kinda weird, because they only like me because I’m with you, Al’.” 

Alastor nods with understanding. “Well, I would never willingly get in the way of you making friendships with other demons, dear. If it is too much, we could always part ways.” He tilts his head, waiting for your reaction.

You sit up suddenly, grabbing his hand. “Of course I don’t want to break up! I just… I was just expressing my feelings. I love you.”

Pleased, Alastor gives you a small smile, one of the less unsettling ones. “And I you, darling.” 

You blush a little at his words, heart filling with genuine affection for a demon most others abhorred. “Alastor can we…?” 

Alastor faces forward in his seat with his Cheshire grin back on his face, continuing to hold your hand. “Absolutely not, haha!” 

You pout. “Please?”

“Patience is a virtue, my dear!” Some radio laughter is heard coming from his microphone. “Wait until we arrive at our destination for such affectionate actions, haha!” Your frown deepens, feeling the rejection of a kiss personally. Alastor leans forward to whisper in your ear. “Be a good girl, and I am sure to make it worth your while. You trust I always keep my end of a deal, yes?” You perk up, nodding in understanding. 

No, Alastor isn’t into public affection, but behind closed doors? Let’s just say, waiting in anticipation sometimes does make the reward at the end all the more enjoyable. 

Lucifer:

You sit quietly next to Lucifer in his jet. Yes, of course, the devil himself has his own private jet with his face plastered on the side of it, so everyone knows that he has one (Charlie definitely face-palmed upon seeing it).  He, however, is anything but quiet. 

He thrusts a stack of pamphlets towards you. “And I think we should explore these rides, too, don’t you think, love? And here!” He holds out another pamphlet. “Of course nothing will compare to Lu Lu World, but it’s worth a shot.” He says with a grin. 

You give him a polite smile, nodding along. It was nice to see him out of his depressed state and somewhere where he could be a bit more relaxed. You flip through one of the many pamphlets. “This is a lot, Luci. I don’t think we’ll have enough time to attend all of these attractions. Perhaps we should just stick to the most popular ones?” You suggest.

Lucifer snaps his head to you. “Oh, very true, love, very true.” He almost looks bashful. “I guess I might have gotten a bit ahead of myself. I just want to make sure we have the best time!” He gives an awkward chuckle, starting to turn away.

You grab him by his shoulders before he can fully turn away. “And we will have the best time!” You gently caress the side of his cheek. “But I don’t need some silly attractions to have a good time. I have you.” Your face lights up with a bright, honest smile; Lucifer can’t help but follow suit, the corners of his own mouth pulling up. A slight blush is noted on his cheeks as well, and you softly pinch at them. 

“You always seem to know just what to say, don’t you?” Lucifer laughs. You gaze at him as he laughs, taking in his features. He catches you staring and smirks. “Uh oh, I think I know what you want, hm?” He says in a knowing tone. 

Now it’s your turn to blush. “I…well… only if you’d want to…” It’s comical how sometimes you seem to mirror his personality at times when your nerves get to you. 

“Of course I want to. I always want to.” Lucifer looks at you lovingly, his expression soft. You lean in close to him, closing your eyes. Lucifer grants your unspoken request, gingerly pressing his lips against yours, trying to get as close as possible to you in the expensive plane seats. Once the two of you part, you bashfully scoot back into your own space and Lucifer does the same. He mumbles something incoherent. 

“Wait, what did you say?” You ask. 

He turns red, all the way up to his ears. “I had… a… bed put up…” He points behind the two of you. “Back there. A bed.” 

You turn red as well at his words. “O-oh… I see. Mile high club then?”

He grins. “Mile high club.” He quickly picks you up bridal-style taking you to said bed. His expression full of excitement and joy disappears when he pokes his head out the private bedroom, looking at one of the demons who are attending his plane. “Don’t let anything interrupt us.” Lucifer then slams the door shut. 

You were right about not needing any attractions to have a good time with Lucifer. In fact, you don’t even need them to experience a nice, exciting ride. 

Charlie:

  You patiently sit in your seat as the rest of the people board the plane. You give a quick glance around the plane looking for your girlfriend. Just where did she go? 

Just as you pull out your phone to try and give her a quick call, a figure comes looming towards you. You tilt your head in confusion, trying to discern just what you were looking at. There seems to be an abundance of snacks: popcorn, crackers, cheese, lunch meat, various kinds of chips, and even chocolate. From behind the huge amount of food, Charlie pokes her head out from behind the pile. “Babe! Look at all these tasty snacks they have on here!” A demon grunts as Charlie accidentally bumps into him. “Oops, sorry! Excuse me! Don’t mind me, just making my way through! Oh… so sorry!” 

Charlies gives a nervous chuckle as she finally sits down next to you. She hands over some of the snacks so that you both have an abundance of items on your laps. “Charlie… Why'd you get so much stuff? No way we’re gonna eat all this!” You give her a small smile, feeling warmth at witnessing yet another of her silly antics. 

“Oh well you know I thought to myself, ‘What if Y/n doesn’t like the food at the resort?’ So we can just have these as back up just in case!” Your smile grows wider as you look at her with adoration. Of course she was thinking about you when doing something as mundane as shopping for snacks to munch on during a short flight. 

You place your hand softly on her knee, looking up at her. A faint blush rises to her cheeks. “Everything okay?” She asks. 

You simply nod, leaning in closer to her. “Can I kiss you?” 

Charlie’s eyes dart around the place nervously. “Right here? Are you sure?” You tilt your head to the side. “Haha…it’s just there’s so many people and–” You interrupt her, pressing your lips softly against hers. “Haha…yeah…” She stares at you as if caught in a daze once you pull away.

You tear open one of the bags of chocolates and pop one into your mouth. You make a noise of content, pouring some into Charlie's hands. “Oh! These taste great, try some!” 

You wonder briefly if anyone else would believe you if you told them that the Princess of Hell gets flustered so easily. 

Angel Dust:

You look at Angel Dust with sympathetic eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs on your lips. He angrily crosses and uncrosses his four arms, then moves to crossing and uncrossing his long legs. He gives you an annoyed groan. “God damn it! I know we’re flying economy, but did they have to make the seats so damn small?!” A light chuckle escapes you, and you quickly cover your mouth. His eyes dart to look at your smaller frame, looking much more comfortable than he could ever hope to be. “Oh, you think it’s funny, huh?” Now, a smirk tugs at his own lips. 

You shake your head fast in response, trying to hold your laughter in. “It’s just…I remember when you were bragging to Charlie and the others at the hotel about—“ You burst into a small fit of giggles. 

“About what?!” He somewhat yells out dramatically, shaking you lightly by the shoulders.

  You mimick his Italian accent effortlessly. “‘I’ve got the legs, I got the stamina, oh hoho I got the legs!’” You take a breath before continuing in your normal voice. “Seems like those assets aren’t really…assett-ing right now, that’s all.” 

Angel Dust’s eyes narrow at you, but for some reason is still smiling. “I see…well alright then. Have it your way.” He lunges the very short distance at you into your seat, using not one, not two, but all four of his hands that he has readily available to tickle your sides. You try to thrust your arms down by your sides to protect yourself, but Angel Dust efficiently uses one pair of hands to pin your own two by your head to the seat, and the other pair to continue tickling you. 

You laugh continuously and loudly, tears coming to your eyes. “A-Angel no! Stop!” You struggle against his arms, but it’s no use. You are at Angel Dust’s mercy. 

“Aw what’s the matter, baby? I thought you loved laughing?” He continues his torture on you with a wide grin, his gold tooth on display. 

“Angel, please! I’m gonna pee myself!” You exclaim. 

Your words fall on deaf ears. “Hm…give me a good reason why?!” He chuckles in a playful-menacing tone. 

You can barely think, but the words come out your lips as smoothly as you are able. “Can I apologize and give you a kiss? And then I’ll apologize some more! Pinky promise!” You feel one of his hands that were holding yours by your head intertwine it’s pinky with your own, securing the oath. Once completed, he releases you, withdrawing into his seat, a smug expression on his face. 

You pause to catch your breath. “Well? I’m waiting.” His voice drips with ego. 

You breathe in one more time, “I’m very sorry I made fun of your long, beautiful, gorgeous legs which I love to have wrapped around me and are a gift to Hell. The real reason they couldn’t send you to heaven was because Hell needed something to add some mmph, and your legs provide just that.” You say breathlessly. He nods his head at every sentence in total agreement, eyes closed and arms crossed. There is a momentary pause and he cracks open one eye to look at you. He takes one hand and rotates his wrist, fingers splayed out. And? 

You refrain from rolling your eyes, though you really wish you could. You lean forwards and softly press your lips against his. A chaste a quick kiss. He opens both his eyes and rolls them. “Ugh, what was that?! C’mon gimme a better one, baby!” 

He leans in forwards again but you hold him off by his shoulder with a laugh. “Nuh uh. I never specified what kind of kiss! I just said kiss, so I held up my end of the bargain just fine.” 

Angel Dust raises one eye brow. “Oh, you wanna tease me, huh? Kinky.” 

You don’t hold back your eye roll this time, slapping his shoulder playfully. You lean over and mess with the controls of his seat. “Here, this should help.” It isn’t much, but it does provide Angel Dust with more room. His eyes widen a bit. He isn’t used to being cared for in such a way, even if it is something that that would be considered a “little” thing. You kiss him again on the side of his cheek, settling into your own seat. “I’m going to try to sleep through the ride, you do your best too, okay?” 

As you shut your eyes to try to sleep, he grabs ahold of your hand in one of his, leaning his head back. He may be one of the most famous porn stars in hell, but sweet little chaste actions like the ones you supply him with are what really gives him pause. The little flutter he feels in his chest when he looks at you can attest to that. 

[theemporium]

I’m so stupid I sent the blues lagoon with prompt 36 and I forgot to say with Max Verstappen 😐

there is no 36 so i assumed you meant 26! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

26. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

.

Max took pride in the fact he never let the outside voices get to him. 

He had always been thick-skinned, always able to block out the countless comments and opinions of the media and the public. When he was younger, it was a tragic reality that none of them could say anything that hurt more than what his father said. As he got older, the truth of the matter was that he didn’t care about the opinions of anyone except those who were helping him race. 

The team behind him—the engineers and strategists and analysts—were the people he would listen to. They were the people who would give their opinions because they knew the car, they knew him, they knew the world of motorsports. 

And he knew how the media liked to paint him. He knew they needed a villain and he fit the role well despite never auditioning for such. He knew that nothing he would do or say would change it, so he doesn't bother with it.

But everyone has a breaking point, even villains. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

You blinked, lifting your head from the book you were currently reading to look at your boyfriend instead. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing you and his head looking down. He had been there since he got out of the shower ten minutes earlier, his hair still wet and the collar of his shirt damp from the dripping water. 

“What?”

“Just…all of this shit,” Max muttered, letting out a heavy sigh with his shoulders tense and his body stiff. 

You frowned, placing your book to the side and pushing the duvet off your body so you could shuffle towards him. “What do you mean?”

“Every little fucking thing I do, they need to comment on. And I know they are biased but, fucking hell, they could at least try to hide it better,” Max grumbled, his words bitter and annoyed, but his exhaustion was also loud and clear. “I know I shouldn’t care. And I don’t. Not really but…you’d think they would have a day off every once in a while.”

Your frown deepened as you settled in the spot behind him. You wrapped your arms around him, your chin hooked on his shoulder and his body sagging back against yours with comfortable ease.

“I say something, they complain. I stay silent, they complain,” he continued, his hands moving to cover yours and squeezing softly. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can stand. I’m a person too. I have fucking feelings. I’m not a robot like they assume.”

“They are intimidated,” you murmured, pressing a soft and reassuring kiss on the base of his neck. “As much as they try, they know they can’t always target your driving because you’re talented so they need something else, some other way to get under your skin.” You paused before continuing. “They are a bunch of spineless dickheads.”

Max snorted, his lips twitching upwards. “Yeah, they are.”

“Want me to fight them?” You offered, playful and teasing and your smile widened a little when he laughed.

“No,” he murmured and squeezed your hands again. “I prefer you here, with me.”

“Always,” you promised and hugged him tighter.

.

[deepfivetraveller]

King Baldwin x Time!Traveler!reader

chapter 1

Chapter 2 here

Okay I’m a little new to writing romance so please take it easy on me. Btw I’ll try to keep y/n as neutral as possible but since this is set in the ancient era and religion is very important, y/n shall be hinted as being Hindu since that’s the only one that seems neutral in this situation.

“Alright that's all for the lesson. And since its complete I expect all of you to be thorough with ‘Life of King Baldwin iv’ during this weekend since there will be a test on this very topic next wednesday. Have a great weekend by the way.” The professor stands up and closes his laptop and all the other students start packing up.

“He had a pretty hard life didn’t he?” One of your friends chimes in. You look at her unsurprised. “You mean king Baldwins?”

“Duh! Poor man suffered an incurable disease almost his entire life! Imagine having skin infested in bacteria, euggh!” She recoils in disgust. “Imagine the cure to that disease being bacteria itself! Pretty sure Leprosy can be cured using multi antibiotic therapy.” Another friend joins in the conversation. You finished packing up your bag so you get up. “But no matter what, you gotta respect him. He never used his illness as an excuse to be a bad king.”

“That’s true….” Your first friend agrees. “He’s tough. When I catch a normal cold I give up all of my responsibilities since I’m sick. Wonder how hard it must have been for him.” All of you exit the classroom. A few minutes go by and topics have changed. A fun conversation lasted for a while before it was time to go, so you three parted ways.

As you entered your home your first thought was to take a cold shower after a long, hot and sweaty day. While eagerly hopping into the shower you get reminded of the conversation you had with your friends a while ago. What did king Baldwin even look like? There were no images in your textbook. Curiosity got the best of you, making you draw back the shower curtains to leave. You wrapped a towel and went towards the table where you kept your mobile, typed a quick ‘King Baldwin the 4th images’ and hit enter. Two images popped up. One being an actual painting from the 12th century while the other being an image reconstructed by scientists which looked…realistic to say the least.

His face in the second photo was majestic. His mouth and nose were almost non-existent, having only two triangular shaped holes instead of a nose. His skin was dry, withered and stretched while having the hue of a dry leaf during autumn. Even though he was severely disfigured his eyes were pure and bright, having a child like innocence towards them. King Baldwin was…Quite handsome.

Okay that’s enough now snap out of it! It’s probably just some AI prompt message image anyway. If anyone found out you found him handsome they’d call you crazy. Plus now is not the time to fangirl over a dead king, now's the time to study. In an attempt to distract yourself you pick up your books to do work. Hours painfully go by as you study but finally, finally it was bedtime. You could care less about eating dinner or even taking a shower, you plop yourself onto your bed and wrap the soft blanket around your body. Thoughts about King Baldwin strike your mind again. Seriously, what's wrong with you?! Why is this man plaguing your thoughts all day?

A sigh escaped your mouth from irritation. If only it was possible to console him for his losses or better yet, cure him entirely. The world would have been a better place if he had the lifespan of a normal man.

But there is no point thinking about this, time to go to bed now. As you try to go to sleep your body keeps doing the fake fall thing, annoying you to the core. And finally when your bodys heartbeat was steady and your breathing was quiet, your body did that fake fall thing again but this time it was actually a real fall.

Eyes widen as you try to grab onto the air to prevent your fall but of course, you fail. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for that split second before you finally make an impact on the cobblestone path?

Owch! That fall really hurt, especially at the back of your shoulders! You hope it’s not bruised there. But after that reality check, you look around only to find yourself in some village?

You can see a few small huts and buildings beyond the grassy field. Where are you? How are you here? Why are you here? Too confused and dazed from the fall, you try to look around for people for help. That is until a holographic screen with text pops up.

Congratulations Ms. Y/n. Your wish to cure King Baldwin has been approved by the ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. You are now at Jerusalem, Year: 1181.

“What?”

Yes it’s true Ms.Y/n, you really are in the 12th century.

Your blood is now boiling in anger. “Just because….Someone wishes pity over a dead king DOES NOT ACTUALLY MEAN THEY WANT TO CURE HIM!” You try to grab onto the screen to shake it vigorously but your hands go right thru.

Now now, let’s calm down and try to get over with this together I’m sure we’ll find a solution.

“Calm down…CALM DOWN?!?!?!? I’m in the middle of nowhere in Jerusalem during the 12th century and you want me to CALM DOWN???? I don’t even know French and not to mention I’M NOT CHRISTIAN!” You were screaming with your hand in the air. Pretty sure you woke someone up.

Y-Yes but that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about communication, the language module for french had been uploaded into your brain while you fell here.

The screen flickers a little, maybe due to fear.

Uploaded knowledge? “But I’m a woman from the 21st century! I can’t live here! I’m wayy to accustomed to the privileges of my time!”

That’s one of my perks miss! By using currency of this time you may purchase products of your time thru me! The screen changes to an online store. For now you have access to basic necessities like food and clothes. As you complete missions you shall unlock other parts of the online market! The screens display brightness increases due to enthusiasm, convinced it has impressed you.

You however look at it in exasperated shock. “How is this even possible?” You say with dread in your voice. “Who sent me here?” You ask, no, demand.

Like I said You’ve been sent here by ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. I’m pretty sure you can’t read that since mortals don’t have the capacity to….

Mortals? Is this the play of some higher being? God even? Too many questions float through your head, making you visibly tired. You can feel the bottom of the skin beneath your eyes folding, an indicator you’re developing dark circles.

Ah. It looks like you’re tired. It’s night anyway. You should sleep.

“But where do I-”

“Excuse me madam.” You turn around to see a man standing behind you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.”

So he can’t see the screen. From his ragged outfit he seems to be a commoner. He also genuinely seems worried so you guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

“Yes, sorry for that.” You say embarrassingly while you get up. “You see I’m from the family of wandering traders, here to sell spices from my land. I was talking to myself since I was quite irritated at how I didn’t have an inn for the night.” The explanation seems responsible enough I guess.

“But I don’t see any goods with you… And how did a young lady such as yourself travel alone? Where is your husband?”

Crap. He’s doubting you. You need to give him a reasonable explanation fast or he’ll call you a witch or something.

“Oh no sir you’re mistaken! My father is the one who has the spices, it’s his business after all. We had to split ways during travel due to inconveniences, I’m merely here to help him!” You put on your best smile to convince him.

“O-Oh I’m sorry madame! H-Here let me lead you, I know an Inn nearby.” Good. Looks like he believes you. But now it’s your turn.

“I’m sorry sir but how can I trust you?” You step back a little. “What if you take advantage of me? How shall I testify my innocence? The locals would definitely believe you over me.”

“No no please don’t! I’m a married man. My wife’s right there.” he points at the lady standing just outside the house, looking worried. You look at her and she nods her head in reassurance. “You seem like a noble from your land madame judging from your colorful dress, why don’t the both of us show you where the inn is?”

Hmm….Guess colorful clothing is rare here. And he really does seem like he wants to help.

“Very well then. Both of you show me they way.” The man eagerly tells his wife the incident and both of them show you around. The screen follows you, showing you a winking emoticon.

Congrats Ms. Y/n! You have officially begun your first mission!

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

what about all of the tkatb characters reacting to reader having a kid or smt like maybe reader adopted a kid from someone they knew or smt "bad" happened to reader and reader had said kid, how would they react? Srry if your not taking reqs rn or smt like that, but I luv your blog!

Stalwart (All x MC/Reader - Having a Kid HCs)

So...it has been a long fucking time since you've requested this Anon, and oh-my-God am I sorry it took this long. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, but @deathcvltcivilofficial? Thank you for entrusting me with this.

Also, if anyone who reads this has been abused or assaulted, you've still got worth. You still matter, even if your culture or religion dictates otherwise. <3

TW: A lot of mentions of RAPE and SEXUAL ASSAULT!

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Stalwart: loyal, reliable, and hard-working.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Sol came to your home (because of the art project), you had warned him a child would be present, but he assumed you were babysitting.

Until you dropped the bombshell on him; that the adorable midget copy of you happens to be your child.

He would be livid deep inside. You have a child, a biological child?

He’ll immediately want to know who the mother/father of it is; and you bet he’s gonna find out.

If you have a child, it means someone got their disgusting hands on you, used you and was trying to trap you! He can’t have that, no no no.

Will be doing a lot more stalk- I mean *coughs* reconnaissance, y’know, to find out who this filthy pestilence was.

Emphasis on ‘was’. That person is going to poof from existence before the next morn.

Will be incredibly enthusiastic if you offer to have him meet your spawnling. He’d treat them like they’re a glass vase, he literally loves that child.

Would be intrigued as to how it was conceived, and, well, depending on your response, will make the murder way more deranged.

If you’re both dating (you will be), he will be incredibly cautious on how to push the subject forth, because he has all intent on marrying you (and painting your holes with his seed).

If said conceiving occurred on accident, say you both were drunk, he’d be annoyed. Less info on this other person, the worse.

If the sex was entirely consensual, he would be silently fuming. You had been with another. Someone who wasn’t him. And they dared to have sex with someone as hallowed as you? My guy will be itching to punch something.

If you end up having a more angry or avoidant response, or snapping at him about it; he’ll suspect something is wrong, probably won’t pry much further for now, he believes through time and trusts you’ll tell him…he hopes.

He’ll do digging afterwards, maybe even get closer to your child, and if your child spills the beans on how you never talk about their mother/father, and even get furious or upset for asking, he’ll become a lot more concerned. His mind will be thoroughly searching for a reason.

Until the day you start to crack…when you start to hint more and more towards the most horrific thing Sol could’ve ever thought of, something he would rather kill himself than even dare to think of.

If your child had been conceived under…well, if you’d been abused. Assaulted. Raped.

Sol didn’t want to believe it. Some sick, disgusting worm had…no. He knows if he thinks about it he’ll descend into a wrath-filled hysteria., and he can’t have that around you, or God forbid, the child.

All he can think of is how desperately he wants to find the (wo)man who did this and torture them in the most despicable, horrific ways imaginable.

If anything, his respect for you, for being able to cope with university and a child would be a massive toll mentally.

He doesn’t view you in a different light, or your child for that matter. It only means he’ll do the absolute best to aid you in any way possible.

Is willing to overcome his distaste of kids for your child (everything has exceptions). Would be trying to be seen as a father figure to it (although he’d much prefer if you called him daddy-).

Won’t push you into anything sexual, or anything extremely physical unless he’s:

A got explicit consent, and 

B. the knowledge that you’re not opposed to it in the first place.

He’s 110% gonna try to have a good relationship with your child, partially for…familial reasons (especially if he's gonna be their step-father and your step-ladder) and also so that your child will be okay with his existence, after all, him being with you also depends on whether your child actually likes him or not.

Man is trying his absolute best for you, no matter what occurred with you and your miniature clone. <33       

Hyugo would’ve probably heard from the Student Council that a couple students had children, so of course one day he’d find himself getting curious.

Will be pretty shocked when he sees you’re one of them, especially if he already knew you for a while.

Won’t really be opposed to it, he only detests extremely loud, spoiled kids. (You raise your kids well guys good job *insert vigorous HAND clapping*).

Will be curious when he realises you’re a single parent, won’t pry though, it’s not his business. Maybe you simply fucked around and found out. *shrug*

Depending on how closed off you are about the topic of your child, he will eventually start finding out details, either from you or just piecing information together from off hand comments.

Either way, somehow he gets into your home and there, in the corner of the living room, is a spitting image of you. Just…smaller. 

Said child side-eyes him harder than Geo could dream of. To be fair, this child does kinda remind him of a young Geo, especially in personality.

After being acquainted with you both for a while, will offer the Small One candy (with permission from you obviously and no, not in a white van).

Small One is very on the fence about him, is judging his fashion sense very harshly the whole time.

The child called him a walking aquarium when he first showed up btw.

If he finds out (either from you or said child) that you were sexually assaulted or raped? He’ll be angry, but also proud that you were able to:

A. Keep the child and raise it.

B. Actually somewhat live your life.

Doesn’t lose respect for you at all, just tries to make it clear that he’ll support you in any way possible. 

If you know the person who assaulted you, they’ll be subjected to Hyugo Sugimoto’s vigilantism. You, on the other hand, will be subject to Hyugo committing crime to try and aid you and the child in any way possible. 

Geo resents children with a vehemence, he sees them as stupid and overly sensitive; mans just avoids them like the plague.

He’s known you well enough to establish that you’re not an annoying dumpster fire, and has come to the conclusion that you’re a somewhat tolerable person to be around.

Will hear (either from Brittney or Hyugo) that there are rumours about how you have a child, and he won’t believe them at all.

Until you confirm them, that is. Then he will simply be discombobulated.

Will feel a weird sense of disgust around you. (probably from his own daddy issues lmfao, my guy will think you’re like his parents subconsciously).

Anyway, after he ‘happens’ upon you and your kid one day, and sees how oddly kind you are as a parent; he’ll start to see you in a different light.

It might be a long while (it takes about 32 decades), but eventually he’ll become more curious about your descendant.

If you’re comfortable enough with telling him, you just state how you either had a fling or just broke up with a previous partner; he will be unsurprised, but a tad irked. (he thinks he’s way better smh how dare you MC)

If your child was conceived via…unpleasant means, he will be apathetic for a few mins, until it hits him one day that some sick person willingly, consciously violated you. It ends up making his blood fucking boil.

He will be the type to drop random spouts of blunt affirmations like; “You are competent, good job.”

Will end up being very awkward with the child, has no clue how to interact with one so he just offers them money and tells them to go play in an arcade or some shit while he watches and deathstares random people.

Will teach said child Japanese insults, if your child gets bullied for being a product of nonconsensual sex, he will teach the child how to punch people.

He tries his best, because your child is the only one he will tolerate; and also he needs them to like him so he can rizz you up by forgetting you exist lmfao.

Deryl is often seen as an uncle or big brother by a lot of kids, his warm exterior tends to make a lot of them really like him, and to be fair, he doesn’t mind kids that much either.

He’s known you for a while, and in all the time he’s known you, he’d have *never* guessed that you were a parent.

Let alone a single parent. Your grades are so high, you work your ass off and you’re a parent? Simultaneously?!

He’ll be genuinely awed, impressed as well.

Will definitely be curious about this child of yours, but won’t pry except its something you initiate.

If he ever meets this child of yours, he will end up  being adored by them. This guy is actually extremely good with kids.

Will end up becoming closer with you as well due to this, and if he finds out this child of yours was a product of abuse or assault, he’ll just be…solemn.

And seeing Deryl solemn is like seeing a cat bark, shit’s fucking weird.

He will be angry that someone did such a vile thing to you, but if you’ve moved on, he’ll try to as well. Although, if you know who it was that did this…expect them to end up hospitalised.

Him and the child will bond over candy. You and him bond over knowing one another. 

Also teaches the child how to play sports. Yippee. Also gives life advice and counselling. <3

And you eventually trust him enough to accept him fully into your life (and maybe heart who knows).

Crowe is quite fond of kids, he’s not someone who avoids them.

He’s also quite fond of you, although his interest in you is more…well, romantic. 

He’s genuinely interested in you, so he wants to know more about you; and fortunately for him, he's known you for a while. You opening up to him (and vice versa) isn’t that new, although when it happens he embraces it wholeheartedly.

When you tell him you have a kid, he’s shooketh, but not upset in any way.

Would be a smidge jealous that someone had you before him, but oh well.

Would be very intrigued by this enigma that is the child, and when he eventually meets them, he tries to be nice (not over the top, just polite).

If he wants to be with you he has to get the child to like him, so he just acts naturally, which is him being a saint, and just overall serving as a source of aid for both of you, whether it be financial, educational or general. He’ll try his best.

He’s willing to help you in any way humanly possible, and I mean it. He goes all out. He also tutors the child if they need help with exams or homework.

If your child was conceived under force or against your will, he’d simply make himself an emotional backbone for you. He doesn’t pity you, but he does try to treat you a bit softer, for the sake of trying to make you feel more comfortable around him; he understands such an event is traumatic and quite detrimental psychologically.

If you’ve moved on and gotten therapy or aid, he will remain a source of support, my guy will just ensure to avoid sexual things around you, he doesn’t want to push any of your boundaries or upset you in any way, shape, or form.

He’s trying guys. <3

Brittney is actually really good with kids, which shocks a few people.

Not as shocked as when she hears you of all people are a parent, although, now that she knows, she can kinda see it.

Won’t really think much differently of you, although if she meets this kid she does become their rich single aunt eventually.

My girl will teach our spawnling about:

- Fashion, along with judging other people’s clothing styles;

- Skincare routines, depending on the age she’ll either recommend the bare minimum or just give a couple of things she uses;

- Makeup, won’t care whether it's a son or daughter, they’ll learn cosmetics;

- Boxing, girlypop can definitely fight, so she’ll teach your kid self defense and emotionally damaging insults to scare off bullies.

Will be willing to babysit for you, your child ends up becoming very fond of her and the two just tend to go to Zara or Myer and discuss what clothes are good (more based on fashion the older your kid is).

She’ll do your child’s hair (and yours as well dwdw you both have your own beauty sessions).

Also serves as a gossip generator, along with a pretty strongly morally-coded source of comfort for both of you. Tries her best when possible to be there.

If she finds out the child is a product of rape, she’ll only look at you as someone much stronger and resilient than she could’ve guessed. You stuck through something like that, and she can’t say much other than: “You’re safe now, you’re among friends.”

Will often use distractions as a way to try and ease your mind.

Is genuinely a great person to be around, and when she has the time and energy, she’s lovely to both you and the child (it’ll be her stepchild soon muahahhahahaah).

Jess honestly would gawk at the thought of anyone in her friend group being a parent. You’re all so young and just experiencing life for yourselves!

When she finds out you have a kid, she’ill be astonished, will blink a couple of times and then repeatedly confirm that you’re actually a parent and not kidding.

You looked too fresh and epic, especially for a single parent. Her ones always looked drained and half-dead, yet you were hopeful, lively, regal.

May or may not be terrified that your kid is a menace and will stab her-.

It’s okay she gets over it, she believes that if you’re as excellent as you are, your kid will be similar.

And she’s partially right, your kid is based af; although, like most kids, they are a menace.

They don’t trust her much at first, but overtime they both form a genuine camaraderie.

And it’s wonderful. They both recommend each other fanfiction (this is if your kid is a teen dwdw).

Otherwise they just watch anime and listen to K-pop.

If your kid was a product of…well, rape, Jess’d just be mortified.

Horrified, even. The fact you went through that, had your child, still chose to study and work…she’s a bit astounded that you were able to take on so much.

Would try her best to use her money to help, whether that be groceries or buying things for your kid. She’d try her very best to formulate a bond between them and you. <3